The Tintagel Secret

by Sarah Till

  So, I know what day it is today, and what year. Just for today. I have a gentle acceptance that I have slipped back into other people's world; that my audience is growing ever closer and that, some day in the future, someone will be so close that I'll give up all my secrets. But for now, we have no choice but to carry on, people like us.

  READ AN EXCLUSIVE CHAPTER OF SARAH TILLS NEXT BOOK - Chapter One of The Tintagel Secret

  Chapter One

  I lock the bathroom door behind me and lean on it. This is the first week in my new job. I thought the feeling of it all being too good to be true had retreated long ago, but it hasn’t. Here it is again. I feel bile rise in my throat. I have to go back out there. I have to do something to stop this.

  Every single day since I left drama college led to this week. Luke and the kids, the perfect family, cheering me on in my quest to reach the top of the industry. Luke’s support for my working at home on screen plays while the kids were pre-school, then his delight when I got my big break. His excitement, despite his own accolades in architecture and design, when Louis Berry called me and practically head-hunted me for the senior script development position at his production company.

  So here I am, in the toilets at Berry Prince Productions. Pale with terror at the horrible realisation that I hadn’t, after all, laid my past to rest. I was so sure that it was truly gone. That I may have even imagined some of it, built it up to be something it definitely wasn’t.

  Yet it’s creeping up on me. I knew it as soon as Jacinta started to read. My first week was celebrated here with an open script call. I’m responsible for scouting ideas and finding the next new voice. After ‘Hide the Bodies’ ran for three series, the whole industry had been holding its breath to see what I did next.

  I could have stayed freelance, but Louis’ offer was tempting. We announced the open call the day I signed my contract. Send us your scripts. Unproduced writers were welcome to submit a pilot episode of a series. A short-list would be drawn up and the best ten pilots would have the rest of the series called in, episode by episode, until there was a winner.

  Over the next month the dedicated inbox opened for the avalanche of scripts was sorted by a small army of interns. The scripts were read and clustered into genre. Incorrect formatting was tossed out, as were the obvious copycat scripts. This left a decent number of screenplays for the next level of sifters to read. Fifty were chosen and printed out. Jacinta, Laura and myself shared them out between us and spent my first week drinking coffee and reading intently.

  I loved it all. I loved my office, I loved bubbly Jacinta, who constantly asked after my children. I liked Laura, but sensed tension; I probably took the job she wanted. Even so, it had been five days in heaven. But sorting the scripts was difficult. The standard was high and although I was drawn towards crime, there were some fabulous family sagas.

  Jacinta had ordered Chinese food for lunch. We read right through and at twenty to two she looked up.

  ‘I’ve found one. Edgy. Unpredictable. A little bit disturbing, but not too much.’

  Laura looked up from her prawn crackers.

  ‘Go on then. Let’s have it.’

  I smiled. I’d noted the time because I wanted to call Luke, and he wasn’t available until three. I wanted to let him know I would be home on time. And that, if he was up for it, we could go for dinner at The Royal Overseas League at St James’ with Charlotte and Ben. I was excited. Celebratory. I would wear my red silk dress. The one he likes. I’d hardly listened as Jacinta began to read.

  FADE IN

  INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

  TINA (17) and JOE (18) are in a friend’s bedroom at a party. Bass booms through the walls and Joe jumps backwards suddenly. He’s holding a school compass in one hand and a black marker pen in the other.

  TINA

  Ouch. That hurts. Be gentle.

  JOE

  It’s going to hurt. Do you still want me to?

  TINA

  Yes. Yes, I do.

  Tina swigs from a vodka bottle and screws up her face as Joe bends over her. When he leans back Tina has a heart shaped, home-made tattoo on her thigh.

  I’d tuned back in suddenly. It couldn’t be, could it? No. It was coincidence. No one else could know about it. I listened as Jacinta read through the party scene. Whoever had written this had created an uneasy ambience between Tina and Joe. I had to admit it was good. She treated him with a detached coolness yet held his attention at all the right places. She had a sex-laden allure, held off just enough to make him chase her.

  But it was the plot that resonated. I listened as she continued.

  EXT. SUBURBAN ROAD – NIGHT

  Tina laughs loudly and chases Joe up the road. She takes off her t-shirt, then her jeans. There’s frost on the ground and she’s shivering

  TINA

  Come on. Your turn.

  JOE

  What, here?

  She moves closer to him. The electricity between them is palpable. A light goes on in a nearby house and they begin to run through the street. They stop at the end of the road and Tina takes off Joe’s jeans. Tina runs her finger over her heart shaped tattoo, then places a pill on the end of Joe’s tongue, and one on her own.

  EXT. FIELD BEHIND CAR PARK – NIGHT

  Tina pulls Joe behind a low fence and pushes him to the ground.

  JOE

  Wait a minute. What are you doing?

  TINA

  (Chicken noise)

  Why? Not up for it? You were before?

  JOE

  It’s just that... I’m not sure... It’s a bit... public

  TINA

  (Laughing and straddling him)

  Come on. You know you want it.

  She rolls over and gets the compass and pen.

  TINA

  Your turn.

  I’d interrupted. I had to or I would have thrown up right there and then. I’d calmly asked Jacinta to wait to read the rest until I came back from the bathroom. Not that I needed to hear the rest. I know what happens. I know exactly what Tina and Joe get up to and how this ends.

  It’s Jed. It has to be. It’s everyone’s worst nightmare. That their teenage self catches up with them. I expect some teenagers were perfectly well behaved and need never worry about someone from their past reappearing to unravel the amends they have made for previous bad behaviour. But not me. Yet none of it was my fault. Jed was gorgeous. He wasn’t even my boyfriend. We would end up together every so often and it just seemed to fit, at first.

  Like the script said, it was electric. But he’s turned everything around. It’s not what it looks like in this script. He took the lead. He made me... But I can’t think about that now. I need to go home and calm down. I mentally check the submissions to see if there is any way I can delete this one. I didn’t manage to see the name he was using and I realise that I never knew his last name. I’m shocked. I‘d slept with him and never even known his last name. He was a year older than me, in the year above me at drama college. Jed. That’s all I knew.

  My life is so different now. So measured. I flush the toilet and run the tap, splashing cold water over my face. I’m numb with shock and my first instinct is to leave. But I need to face it out. I need to play for time.

  My stomach churns as I open the bathroom door and hurry back to the development office. Jacinta is still holding the script.

  ‘Ah, here she is. I was just saying to Laura, this is very promising. Different. There’s a build up to something...’

  I rush in a little too quickly.

  ‘I don’t like it. It’s a little bit, I don’t know. Too... edgy.’

  Laura nods.

  ‘It is edgy, but you know, this could be the new Skins. It could.’

  I stare at the pile of papers.

  ‘Anyway. I need to make a move. I’m meeting one of the writers at three thirty. Look, I’ll take it with me and read it over the weekend.’

  I won’t. I won’t fucking read it. I’ll throw it into the
nearest bin as soon as I leave. And hopefully they’ll have moved onto the next new thing by then. I can feel the droplets of sweat dripping down my back. My past is sitting there on the desk in front of me, threatening to ruin my future. I grab the script and push it into my bag.

  ‘Have a good weekend. If you find anything else that looks promising send it over by email. I’ll make my shortlist selection on Monday.’

  I’m out. Running down the stairs and out onto the street. Berry Prince Productions is on the second floor of an office block at Moorgate just opposite the tube and London is busy in the early afternoon. I’m meeting a freelance writer I used to work with, Julie Croft, in a nearby Costa, and she’s late. The script is like a ticking bomb in my bag and I’m itching to get it out and tear it into a thousand pieces, but instead I pull out the cover page.

  Dead Weight by Jake Silver. There’s no address or agent details, just an email address. JakeSilver@gmail.com. No clues there. I quickly Google Jake Silver on my phone and search Facebook, but the list is long. I glance down the profile pictures and no one looks like Jed. I need to focus. Julie is suddenly sitting opposite me.

  ‘You alright, Tara?’

  I smile.

  ‘Yeah. Been a long week. First week nerves.’

  She looks uncertain. She knows as well as I do that I got where I am today with a mixture of unwavering perseverance and confidence. Nerves are not my territory.

  ‘Right. You just seemed miles away.’

  I laugh. Miles away. Yes. That’s exactly where I was. Miles away and years ago. Back in a state of high anxiety, just like the year after I left drama college and escaped to London. Before I met lovely Luke and my beautiful children. Before I began to write. I couldn’t write back then. I could hardly breathe for fear that we would get found out and it would all come tumbling down.

  Julie and I talk about her current work and my new job and an hour goes quickly. I promise to bear her in mind for any future work and she’s getting ready to leave. She picks up her bag and puts her hand on my arm.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright? You don’t seem yourself. If there’s anything...’

  ‘No. No. I’m fine. I must be coming down with something.’

  She leaves and I’m not fine. Not fucking fine at all. The anxiety has turned to fear, and I try to rationalise. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. Maybe Jed – or Jake Silver – has simply decided to try his luck at a screenplay. But who am I fucking kidding? He would have had to read the call. Tara Whyte, newly appointed senior script developer, is looking for new talent. It had a photograph. Jacinta had grafted it straight from my CV onto the website before I had a chance to ask her not to.

  I feel sick. He knows it’s me. I haven’t changed that much, maybe a little blonder, a little more weight after two children. My face is the same. My careful regime has so far warded off the wrinkles and I eat sensibly. Even my hair is cut in the same long bob, designed to emanate youth. A quick web search would turn up all my details, once he’d recognised me. Up until now, I’d taken a lot of trouble to keep my face off social networking, but there are no secrets in this game. He’s deliberately written it and sent it to me.

  I finish my coffee and fear turns to deep sadness. There’s still a chance that I can make sure the script is rejected. Louis Berry might hate it. The other shortlisted scripts might be better. But the fact is that this incident from my past has raised its ugly head. It puts everything I have worked for at risk. My family, my job. Yes, even my marriage.

  I take the tube home and Luke is waiting.

  ‘You didn’t ring, honey. Are we still going?’

  I smile, even though I don’t feel like it. I can’t help it. I am practiced in controlling myself. Making everything seem right on the outside as the storm rages within.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah. Give me an hour and I’ll be ready.’

  He touches my face and I kiss my children. They’re watching TV and Julia, the current nanny, is washing up. The remnants of sausage, egg and chips are on the kitchen side and the tiny yoghurt pots they love scraped clean. I go upstairs and hide the script at the bottom of my wardrobe, the one with the tiny lock. Then I realise that there’s no need to hide it because only two people know it’s real. Me and Jed. To everyone else this is just a wild teenage story of a sullen, stoned boy and a girl with dubious morals. I could play it cool and just see what happens. But that’s dangerous. That’s just too fucking risky.

  The bedroom door clicks open and I see Luke smiling at me through the mirror. I turn on the shower in the en suite. The warm water washes over me and I relax a little. I used to like danger back then. The fear of getting caught added an edge to everything. I was just a teenager experimenting, but Jed was different. Jed would always take it just that little bit too far. It was like second nature to him. One more drink. One more pill. Like the scene in the script, the scene from my life, one more thrill.

  The water crashes around me and there are hands on my body and, for a moment, I am unsure if it is Jed or Luke. I snap back to reality as I turn to face my husband and he kisses me. Luke’s touch is always gentle and I watch his hand caress my body, resting on my thigh and I see the heart tattoo and know that I have to stop Jake Silver. I have to stop this. I have to make sure that episode two never arrives and is never read.

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  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank everyone who has helped me with researching this book. Writing a book is difficult because it requires you to put in your heart and soul and then a little bit extra. My mission was and is to write the book I want to even if it is quirky and a little bit strange! Thank you to everyone who supports this and who has read my work and commented on it.

  Thank you to my publishers who have worked hard to bring this book to life.

  Thank you to the public officials who let me sit in their offices and ask them awkward questions.

  Thank you to my fellow writers who offer scaffolding and support.

  Most of all, thank you to my family. They have endured my furious typing and endless chatter about my stories and characters and I love you all.

  Biography

  Sarah Till writes books about the human condition and what can go wrong. She is interested in what makes people tick and nature. The combination of the two provide her with a rich landscape. She lives with her husband and her pets and walks the field and moorlands looking for material.

  Before her writing life she worked in an office. She likes family, painting and knitting and researching family history.

  Sarah has written five novels to date and has had short stories accepted for publication in anthologies.

  Contact:

  books@sarahtillbooks.com

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