‘Right, team, we’re filming the run-through in the BBC newsroom today. Are we all set? Alan, questions? Jude, contestants turning up?’ JR asked.
Alan and Jude confirmed everything was set for the run-through. It had been decided the show’s location needed to reflect it’s highbrow content, so rather than being set in a quiz studio, we’d be shooting the pilot in an actual newsroom. It hadn’t been done before, and the channel were excited by the ‘fresh new setting’ idea. The only caveat to this plan was that we had to fit filming around the actual news, which needed to be broadcast throughout the day. I wasn’t sure how this would work, but JR no doubt had it all worked out.
‘Poppy, can I see those questions you wrote yesterday?’ JR asked.
I handed him the neatly printed cards with the questions on Cuban politics. I waited nervously as he scanned them.
‘And you’ve triple-checked the answers from multiple sources?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very good, Poppy. We’ll use these in the opening round today.’
JR handed the cards back to me. I reached up to take them but, instead of letting them go, he kept a tight hold on the cards. It forced me to look up at him, to see why he wasn’t letting go. Our eyes locked and he just looked at me, our hands both on the cards. I didn’t know how to respond. The look he was giving me, I couldn’t quite work it out: a challenging look, a look of approval, but something else as well, something that made me blush. I quickly let go and looked away. He stood there for a moment, celebrating some minor victory, then gently tossed the cards back onto my desk as he walked away.
We spent the morning getting organized and boxing up what we needed for the run-through. After lunch we piled into a people carrier and headed across London to the news studio.
‘I’m going to be pretty busy dealing with the contestants, so are you two okay to set up for studio?’ Jude asked Alan and me.
‘Sure, no problem,’ I said.
At the news studio, a very serious-looking man called Leonard greeted us and escorted us through security. Leonard had a grey comb-over and wore a thick pin-striped suit. We walked across the news floor with our boxes and a hushed silence descended. The reporters turned to look at us as though we were some strange species they hadn’t encountered before.
‘You’ll be in here,’ Leonard said, opening the door to a broom-cupboard-sized room covered in clutter and dirt.
‘I was told we’d have a proper production office to work from,’ said JR irritably.
‘We don’t really have “production rooms”.’ Leonard shrugged. ‘The news isn’t really a “production”.’ Leonard made a little ‘jazz hands’ gesture to illustrate his point.
‘I see,’ said JR, putting down the box he was carrying.
‘Anything you need…’ Leonard said, but he’d already turned his back on us.
‘What was all that about?’ I whispered to JR.
‘Nothing. They’re old school in News; they don’t like change. Do what you can in here, I’m going to find Magnus.’
Alan and I did what we could to tidy the place up, but the room was ill-equipped.
‘There isn’t even a power socket in here!’ Alan moaned.
I walked out to the open-plan newsroom to ask someone for help. Initiative – that’s what this situation required.
‘Excuse me,’ I said to a girl my age, ‘we’re trying to set up for this quiz, and we don’t have a power socket in there. Do you know where we—’
‘Busy!’ she said, holding up a finger, then pointing to her screen. I turned to the man sitting next to her but he shook his head.
‘I don’t think we’re popular here,’ I whispered to Alan, looking around the room and sensing a lot of negativity aimed in our direction.
‘But we only have thirty minutes until the studio’s free! I need to print the changes JR made in the car,’ whined Alan.
Looking around the news floor, I found a plug socket behind one of the news team’s desks. I carried the printer out of our broom cupboard and plugged it in. Sitting down on the floor, I set to work, quickly making the changes JR had asked for. Just as I was about to finish, I felt a tug on my ankle. I turned to see Leonard flying across the floor, landing in a sprawled heap next to my leg.
‘What the hell!’ Leonard bellowed. ‘What are you doing there, tripping everyone up? I knew this quiz would spell no end of trouble.’
People were looking at us now. Another man with glasses and slicked-back hair joined in the attack.
‘RealiTV in a newsroom – what has the world come to?’
‘I said over my dead body they turn this newsroom into a charade,’ Leonard growled.
‘There wasn’t a plug socket in that room,’ I tried to explain, though I feared this hostility ran a little deeper than me using one of their plug sockets.
‘My father would roll in his grave if he knew they were letting you make reality television in the newsroom. The newsroom, for God’s sake. Is nothing sacred?’ said the man with the slicked-back hair.
‘Well, it’s not actually a reality show, it’s a topical quiz,’ I muttered, looking for Alan to back me up, but he’d scuttled away.
‘What’s happening here?’ JR pushed through the clutch of people standing over me.
‘“No trouble”, you said,’ Leonard snarled at JR. ‘“Wouldn’t get in the way”, you said.’
‘Poppy, what’s happened?’ JR asked me.
‘There wasn’t a socket in there.’ I pointed to our tiny cupboard. JR held out a hand to help me up.
‘Call off the dogs, Leonard,’ JR said. ‘I won’t have them shouting at my team. We’re all just trying to do our jobs here. Let’s be professional, shall we?’
JR stared down the braying mob until, one by one, they sloped back to their desks.
‘I’m sorry, Poppy,’ he said to me. ‘It’s a bit political us being here.’ JR put his hand on the base of my back as he guided me back to our little room. ‘Don’t take it personally.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘You get what you need?’
‘No, I hadn’t managed to print the changes yet.’
‘Give me five minutes.’
JR headed over to Leonard’s desk and called him into one of the clear-glass meeting rooms. The way JR was gesticulating, it looked as though stern words were being exchanged. After about five minutes, Leonard emerged, his face a rather unusual shade of crimson, and escorted Alan and I into a meeting room, fully equipped with power sockets galore.
‘You can work in here,’ said Leonard. ‘I’m sorry for the confusion about the rooms.’
If I’d been in awe of JR as a producer before, he’d now attained superhero levels of admiration.
We were finally organized with everything we needed: upto-date scripts, eager contestants, Magnus Jerome and Magnus Jerome’s intimidatingly bushy eyebrows. As soon as the two o’clock news wrapped, we could move into the news studio and begin filming.
‘I won’t be able to read those,’ Magnus said to me as I handed him the question cards to look over. ‘They need to be printed in Arial; I can only read Arial font.’
With only ten minutes to go, I sprinted back to the office to reprint the cards, but as I ran through the newsroom to get there, people at the far end of the room waved frantically at me to stop. I looked around, trying to see what the problem was. They hit their hands against their heads, astounded at my idiocy. I shrugged my shoulders in an overblown gesture of incomprehension.
‘What?’ I asked, utterly confused.
A news reporter sitting nearby grabbed my arm and hissed, ‘You can’t walk through the newsroom when the news is transmitting, you moron.’
I looked up in horror. The whole news floor served as a backdrop to the two o’clock news, and I’d just bounded through shot during transmission. Panicking about what to do, I slowly slunk to the floor and began crawling across the carpet, attempting to get out of shot, unnoticed, by keeping below desk level. Watchin
g this back later, it was the worst thing I could have done – it only served to draw more attention to me. I’d also failed to duck low enough, so as I crawled across the floor, my bottom could be seen bobbing its way across the room like a floating tortoise, swimming its way to safety.
I popped up the other side of the news floor, only to come eyeball to eyeball with Leonard.
‘You do not walk across the newsroom when we are transmitting,’ he said through clenched teeth.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know,’ I said.
I really think people should tell you these things when you arrive if they are so important.
STEP 21 – OFFER TO DO MORE THAN IS EXPECTED ON EVERY ASSIGNMENT
LUCKILY, THE REST of the run-through went without a hitch. JR and Magnus hadn’t even noticed my blunder in the newsroom, so I assumed I’d got away with it. I could handle stuffy old Leonard and his team being cross with me, I just didn’t want to disappoint JR.
Magnus was a fantastically terrifying host and the contestants Jude had lined up had exactly the right level of knowledge to make the game work perfectly. JR appeared very happy with how it had gone, and took Alan, Jude and I out for a drink at the pub across the road to celebrate.
‘What would you all like?’ JR asked us at the bar.
‘Champagne!’ I said, feeling as though we had something to celebrate.
‘Um, orange juice for me,’ said Jude.
‘I’ll have a pint,’ said Alan, pulling his lank hair back into a ponytail.
‘Well, no, wine for me then,’ I backtracked.
‘No, no, if Dangermouse wants champagne, champagne Dangermouse shall have.’ JR looked at me with amusement. ‘If that run-through doesn’t get us a commission, I don’t know what will. You all did a great job, team.’
We went to sit down and JR brought me over a miniature bottle of champagne with a straw in it. I was embarrassed at having asked for champagne, so drank it quickly then volunteered to get the next round in.
‘I have to head off,’ said Jude with a shrug.
Alan stayed for one more and then it was just JR and I. Alone with him at last, in a pub, two drinks in. (Which was the perfect amount: I’d be confident and amusing, without being drunk or embarrassing.)
‘I’ll stick around for one more if you will?’ I said, super casually.
JR looked at me, assessing me. I mentally pleaded with him to stay, willing him to have one more.
‘I could have one more, I guess. We are celebrating your first wrap on a production, I suppose, Penfold.’
‘Yes!’
‘What will you have? I’ll get these.’
‘Champagne!’ I said, making what I thought to be a hilarious reference to the awkward nature of my first order.
‘Really? Poppy, you do have expensive tastes for a runner, you know?’
‘Oh, I was joking,’ I said. ‘I was just saying that because obviously when I said that before it was quite… awkward. Wine, I’ll have wine.’
JR rolled his eyes at me. He headed to the bar and returned with another miniature bottle of champagne.
‘Oh no, honestly, I really was joking. Let me pay you back.’
‘Poppy, it’s fine. You are odd sometimes, aren’t you?’
‘Odd? Odd how?’
‘Well, when you’re being good and organized, running around getting me coffee and scripts, you really are very good…’
‘But…’ I said.
‘But sometimes I look at you and you’re like a flustered little fairy, flitting around the place – a chaotic little elf.’ JR smiled.
‘A fairy?’ I said, leaning back on two chair legs, then quickly having to catch myself from falling backwards.
JR laughed. ‘Yes, a clumsy, galumphing little Tinkerbell.’
I must have looked crestfallen, because JR reached out to touch my hand reassuringly.
‘Don’t worry, you’re doing a good job, Poppy.’
‘You must watch a lot of cartoons,’ I said.
‘Why?’
‘Dangermouse, Tinkerbell?’
JR gave the hint of a blush, a dimple appearing on one cheek beneath his stubble.
‘Maybe you just remind me of a cartoon, Penfold.’
We stayed in the bar for another hour and I felt as though I was on the best date I’d ever been on. I loved the fact that JR was this big scary producer on the one hand, but this quick-witted, funny guy on the other. Everything he said, I fizzed in response to, desperate to say the right thing, for him to like me too.
‘I should go. Come on, Dangermouse, let’s get you a cab,’ JR said suddenly, as I tottered back from the loo, realizing I was a little tipsy.
‘No! More champagne!’ I cried.
JR laughed. ‘I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Come on, I’m cutting you off. I’ll get a bad reputation, getting my pretty little runners drunk.’
Did he say pretty?
He guided me out onto the street and I savoured the feeling of his hand against the small of my back.
‘I heard you already had a bad reputation, JR…’ I said.
‘Did you now?’ JR said, looking up and down the road for a cab.
I tripped on the cobbled pavement and JR reached out to stabilize me. I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to kiss him. We were standing face to face; I knew he felt it too, this fizz between us. He’d never make the first move, he was my boss – I would have to kiss him, to let him know it was okay…
This was definitely a good idea. This felt like the moment in the movie when the hero and heroine finally get together.
As I lurched my lips toward him, I felt his hands, suddenly strong on my forearms. He was going to pull me into his arms for a passionate embrace… But then I realized he wasn’t pulling me into his arms at all, he was pushing me away.
‘Woah, Poppy, what are you doing?’
I opened my eyes, which I must have closed in anticipation.
‘Kissing you?’
He obviously hadn’t realized what I was doing; perhaps it wasn’t clear. I lunged again.
‘Woah, Poppy, no. Seriously, that’s not a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m your boss, and you’re twenty-two, and drunk… and… well, a million other reasons.’ He ruffled his hair in frustration.
Hmmm. I didn’t quite understand what was happening here. What about the fizz, the chemistry, the movie moment?
‘But you f… fancy me, I kn… know you do,’ I slurred.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, you’ve been flirting with me all night, and… and you must have felt it, between us, no? These last few weeks?’
A cool breeze swept along the street, momentarily sobering me up. I blinked, glimpsing the reality of the situation.
‘Oh god, really? No!’
‘Poppy, come on, don’t worry about it, let’s just get you in a cab,’ he said, looking down the street, willing one to appear.
‘Oh, I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be embarrassed. Come on, it’s fine.’
‘You’re just saying that to make me feel better.’
There were no cabs. An overwhelming desire to run away suddenly hit me. The cringe-worthy nature of the situation, coupled with the look in JR’s eye, like he really didn’t want to deal with this, just made me want to leg it. So I turned and fled.
‘Poppy!’ JR shouted after me. ‘Poppy, come back.’
But I kept running. I could work out where I was later and find myself a cab home. I crossed the road and saw a glimpse of the river through some buildings. I glanced behind me, hoping JR wasn’t following me. I was alone, so I sprinted off through the alleyway. I just needed to sober up, to regroup.
I walked over to the railings and steadied myself, looking down into the murky depths of the Thames. The moon was bright, and the dark, churning water looked strangely beautiful, the swirls of water dancing this way and that. As I stared out over the water, I felt a tug on my arm. JR spun me arou
nd – he had followed me. Perhaps he’d tried to resist, but now he just had to kiss me? What a romantic setting for our first kiss; much better than the street. I collapsed into his arms in a dramatic swoon.
‘Poppy, don’t run away like that. I’m not chasing you halfway around bloody London, and I can hardly leave you here in this state, can I? You can barely stand. Come on, I’ve found you a cab.’ He pulled my arm, dragging me back to the road.
‘Just leave me here, I’m not your responsibility! I want to look at the river, it’s all swirly!’ I tugged back.
‘Stop being childish, Poppy.’ He sounded really quite cross now.
We got back to the road and there was a black cab waiting, its passenger door open.
‘Where do you live?’ JR asked me.
‘Greenwich,’ I said, feeling like an admonished child. I crawled into the cab and slunk into the corner, defeated.
‘You are an expensive runner,’ JR said, shaking his head and handing the cab driver fifty pounds. ‘Take her wherever she wants to go,’ he said, and then slammed the door of the cab without even saying goodbye.
STEP 22 – YOU WILL NEVER GET A SECOND CHANCE TO MAKE A FIRST IMPRESSION
THE NEXT DAY was a Saturday. I woke with that nagging feeling something bad happened the night before, but it took me a few minutes for the whole thing to come back in all its Technicolour glory.
Nat brought a cup of coffee down to my basement bedroom.
‘Wow, Poppy, you were shit-faced last night.’
‘Was I?’ I tried to sit up, but the sudden throbbing headache forced me back down beneath the duvet.
‘Oh no, no, you are not having a duvet day, you’re helping me try on bridesmaid dresses today, remember?’ said Nat, pulling back the covers.
‘I think something bad happened last night,’ I said, my voice hoarse.
‘Something bad? Bad how?’ Nat asked, looking concerned.
‘Embarrassing bad.’
I’d already admitted to Nat that I’d developed a minor, somewhat all-consuming crush on JR, so she knew the background as I relayed the hazy details of last night’s events.
‘I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think,’ she offered.
How to Get Ahead in Television Page 10
