by Anita Notaro
She spent most of the day on the phone to Annie, who laughed at her preparations and refused the offer of a loan of her hair and make-up team.
‘You’re a big star, I’m only an actress with a tiny part.’
‘Start as you mean to go on, darling.’
‘I think I’ll wait for a while before I start making demands.’
‘You really are the most un-actressy actress I’ve ever met. You need to be more dramatic, throw a few tantrums. Make lots of demands. Get your agent to handle it. Mel organizes everything for me.’
‘Listen I’m fine, Libby, honest. But I am so nervous.’
‘Me too.’
They arranged to meet at the station before the show.
When the limousine arrived to collect her, Libby really wanted a glass of wine to steady her nerves but knew she couldn’t indulge. At reception she was greeted by Leo Morgan and an array of producers.
‘It’s good to have you back.’ He kissed her and as they made small talk, Libby realized he was another whose calls she’d never returned.
Her dressing room was the best they had and her agent had ensured that fresh flowers, fruit, magazines, a TV and a hundred other niceties vied for her attention along with a bottle of good champagne in an ice bucket. Libby knew she’d do justice to that afterwards.
‘So, who else is on?’ Annie asked the guy who came to meet her at reception. The cool, trendy researcher was happy to show her the running order. There were one or two major international names, a couple of bands she was really into and, of course, Libby.
‘She’s one of my heroes,’ Annie said like a child. ‘She is so gorgeous and, do you know something—’
‘Well, between you and me she’s been overindulging a bit lately, I’d say.’ Annie never got to tell him they were friends; Dan Pierce was a talker, and not known for his discretion. ‘Looks years older. Still, she’s an audience-puller, that’s for sure, although she won’t talk about what everyone wants to know.’
‘You mean her husband?’ Annie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He gave a knowing nod.
‘Well, why on earth should she? She doesn’t need to do this and it’s all very recent.’ Annie was surprised at how fiercely protective she felt.
‘Well, if you believe the rumours, her new series is a turkey, so I’d say she does need this.’
Annie decided she’d listened to enough: she was not taking any more shite from this horrible little man.
‘It is not, I’ve seen it,’ Annie lied. ‘It’s fantastic and so is she and what’s more, she’s a friend of mine so please don’t say anything else, particularly as you seem to be talking through your arse.’ Annie headed for her dressing room, feeling she’d just thrown the first tantrum of her career. The room was empty except for one fake leather chair and a lamp with a broken shade that had seen better days. She sat quietly and went through it all again in her head, just to be sure she wouldn’t run out of things to say. Then she went in search of her friend.
Libby was putting pressure on the make-up artist. ‘I think I need a stronger base and more well-defined eyes, Zoe darling.’
The younger woman, who’d known Libby Marlowe for years, had been shocked by her appearance and was trying to minimize the lines and soften the jowls.
‘I don’t want you to look too made-up.’
‘Trust me – these days I need it.’
‘No, you look great, but I was going for a soft, dewy look.’
‘Not this time, Zoe. I need the works. Pile it on.’
It was an unusual situation, because in all the years she’d known Libby, Zoe had never known her to get it wrong. Normally, she knew exactly what worked and what didn’t. But tonight she was already looking a bit too ‘done’.
‘Why don’t I give you stronger lips and cheeks and see how it looks?’ The artist was using all her powers of persuasion. She’d been working for an hour and a half now and still Libby wanted more emphasis on her gorgeous eyes, even though less was definitely the way to go.
Eventually, they compromised. Then her hair was fingered and waxed and Libby added some amazing jewellery and the overall effect was a sophisticated, confident, beautiful woman who, when you looked at her closely, seemed older and more tired than her legion of fans would remember.
Annie was totally taken aback when she saw the penthouse suite version of her bedsit dressing room. ‘Hello, I don’t think I’m on the same show as you, bitch.’
The styling team were startled at their easy familiarity.
‘I did try to tell you but you ignored me as usual. Anyway, who are you again?’ They hugged and Libby asked what she thought.
‘You look fabulous, as always,’ Annie insisted. ‘I’m just sorry that I have to go on after you, you’re a hard act to follow.’
‘Make-up – too much, too little?’
‘Well,’ Annie wanted to be honest. ‘I might take it down a bit round the eyes, but that’s just me.’
Zoe wanted to hug her but instead seized the moment. ‘I agree, so you’re outnumbered.’
‘OK, I know when I’m beaten.’ Libby sighed and Annie settled down and watched, enjoying the build-up. Soon Libby was called and they promised to meet back in the room for a drink afterwards.
‘Have mine poured, otherwise I might drink from the bottle and I’m sure you’re not normally so gross,’ Annie warned.
‘Zoe, lock up the booze. This woman can’t be trusted.’ Libby laughed and blew her friend a kiss.
The interview was exactly as she expected. They plugged the new series and showed several clips. There were questions from the audience, which Libby had been shown in advance. She dealt with them easily. Towards the end came the bit she’d been expecting.
‘We all know that this year has been perhaps the most difficult of your life, with the sudden death of your husband and I suppose I can’t let you go without asking how you’re coping.’
She couldn’t imagine what the audience would think if she told the truth. That she hadn’t been coping at all, except for the past few weeks. She wondered if Andrew was watching. ‘I’m fine, getting there,’ she said. ‘It has been a very difficult time but I’ve been helped by the thousands of letters I’ve received and I’d like to say thank you to everyone who wrote and sent cards and flowers. Far too many to acknowledge.’ She knew when to stop.
At last the charade was over. She got a huge round of applause and they immediately cut to a commercial break. She was indeed a hard act to follow.
Annie was waiting in the wings on the other side of the studio. Libby waved and held up two crossed fingers. ‘Break a leg,’ she mouthed.
‘You were brill,’ Annie mimed back.
‘Do you two know each other?’ The producer was surprised.
‘Yes, we’re best friends.’ Libby felt like a child. ‘She’s great.’
‘She sure is. Going places fast too, I’d say.’
Annie’s nerves had vanished. Libby seemed to fill her with confidence. She chatted easily, as if she’d been on the champagne already, and was funny and natural and charming and the audience loved her. There were lots of questions about Bobby and she assured them she was nothing like her. Then they talked about the research she’d done for the part and she had them in fits telling them about turning up for the audition dressed like a hooker.
As it ended came the question she wasn’t prepared for. ‘So, how has all this changed your life?’
‘I don’t think it has, really.’ She was still relaxed. ‘I’m exactly the same as I was, I live in the same house, go about my life as normal.’
‘And what advice would you give to a young girl starting off with all the same hopes and dreams as you’ve just told us about? Have there been any negatives, for instance, any bad experiences?’ It was a totally innocent question, and if it took Annie by surprise then her answer nearly knocked her out.
It was the ‘young girl’ thing that did it. She felt a responsibility. Her mouth felt dry. She look
ed at him for what seemed like minutes, then said, ‘I did have one bad experience, actually and I am only sharing it tonight in case it might help someone else, because I was pretty naïve, really.’ She recounted the events of that night in a calm, flat voice, feeling the now familiar cold sensation slide down her spine and he had to tease out the details of the story very gently and was careful not to push when he saw she was close to tears.
‘And has he been caught?’ Annie shook her head and he sighed.
‘Well, you are very brave to talk about it. I want to tell our viewers that I didn’t know anything about this before now and I’d like to thank you for sharing it with us tonight. It must have been very painful for you.’
‘It was.’ She managed a weak smile. ‘But I’m getting there and I’m determined not to let it take over my life.’
He paused to allow enough time to effect a change of tone. ‘Can I finish by wishing you every success and good luck in the awards and we hope you’ll come back and talk to us again soon. It’s been a great pleasure to meet you. Annie Weller, ladies and gentlemen!’
One final, deafening round of applause which she couldn’t hear properly because of the ringing in her ears, and then it was all over. She kept a smile pasted to her face until she heard the music that meant they were on a commercial break.
Chapter Fifty
LIBBY WAS WAITING in the corridor as a pale-faced Annie almost fell into her arms.
‘My God, you poor darling.’ She was full of concern. ‘What a brave thing to do. I can’t imagine how you must have felt, talking about it again.’ She shuddered and ushered the worn-out girl inside.
‘I hadn’t intended to, as you know.’ Annie was still close to tears. Libby handed her a glass of champagne.
‘Here, sit down. Don’t talk for a minute or two. Just relax,’ she ordered.
‘I can’t get over this dressing room. I don’t even have toilet paper and you’ve got champagne in an ice bucket.’ Annie looked around, still in shock.
It was a completely ridiculous conversation to be having after what had just happened. Libby looked almost as surprised to be told that all dressing rooms weren’t the same. ‘I thought you were exaggerating earlier.’ They laughed together, as they seemed to often. It usually helped.
‘You were extraordinarily brave. I couldn’t have bared my soul like that.’ Libby, suddenly wistful, was envious.
‘Well, it wasn’t in the plan. You were the only one I spoke to. Christ, my father was watching and he didn’t even know,’ Annie remembered, putting her face in her hands. ‘Oh God.’
‘Ring him now and get it over with. Then you can forget about it.’ Libby thrust her mobile in Annie’s direction. ‘Would you like some privacy?’
Annie shook her head. This was going to be difficult.
The conversation was tearful. He was upset and bewildered. ‘I’m sorry, I know I should have told you but I hadn’t really come to terms with it myself yet,’ she explained.
He struggled to understand. ‘And you’re sure he didn’t . . . interfere with you in any way?’ It was all he wanted to know.
‘I’m sure, Dad.’
They talked for a while and she hung up, dejected and disheartened all over again.
‘Look, why don’t we get out of here? There’s a car waiting outside. Will we go somewhere quiet, maybe grab a bite to eat?’ Libby asked.
‘I couldn’t really touch food right now, to be honest. I feel sick. Christ, will this ever go away?’
‘Right, that’s settled, you’re coming to my house and I’m minding you for the rest of the evening. Get your things.’
The stretch limo was another source of amazement to Annie, miles away from her smelly taxi where the only elastic was in the leopardskin covers.
Despite her earlier protests, Annie managed a small plate of the delicious tiger prawns with chilli and garlic that Libby produced effortlessly.
‘Every time I eat with you here I wonder how I ever manage to go back to flat, brown burgers and flaccid chips.’
‘That’s another thing I keep meaning to say to you. I’m teaching you how to cook. No excuses. You need to stay healthy after your illness.’ Annie wasn’t about to protest. ‘Anyway, I need something to keep my mind off doctors.’
‘Maybe one of us will get food poisoning and he’ll be the doctor on call at the hospital. I could cook a few of my specialities. That should put one of us in bed for a week, at least.’
They giggled and made mad plans until Annie yawned twice in as many minutes.
‘My God, it’s two-thirty. I’d better call a cab.’ She couldn’t believe they’d been talking for hours.
‘Sure you won’t stay?’ Libby didn’t want her to go.
‘No, if it’s OK with you I think I need to go home tonight. Sort of puts the incident into perspective.’
‘I know.’ Libby hugged her friend. ‘The car’s waiting outside to take you home.’
‘What?’
‘Why not? That’s what he’s there for.’
‘You mean there’s some poor eejit sitting in a car for all this time waiting on me? I feel terrible.’ Annie picked up her bag and scarpered. Libby followed.
‘I’m telling you, he’s fine.’
‘I’ll have to give him a tip.’
‘You’re mad. One doesn’t tip a driver.’
‘This one does. Goodnight darling.’ Annie did her Libby impression, air-kissing her friend on both cheeks.
She hoped the neighbours could all see the limo. It meant she’d arrived. It said famous as clearly as if it was written in dust on the bonnet. She gave the driver a 10-euro note and legged it, still mortified at keeping the poor man from his bed. Her answering machine was winking at her as she opened the door and there were two messages to ring John Reynolds.
‘John, hi, it’s Annie Weller.’
‘Annie, I was beginning to get worried about you. I called round earlier.’
‘I was on the Late Late.’ She was feeling very pleased with herself.
‘So I hear. I believe you were brilliant. Where are you now?’
‘At home. Where else would I be if I got your message? Not very good detective work, Garda Reynolds!’
‘True enough. Well, young lady, you’ll have to get yourself a mobile. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours.’
‘I was with Libby.’ Annie still loved telling people they were friends and now she sounded like a child telling an adult she’d just been given a puppy.
‘Wow, you really are becoming quite a celebrity. What d’you think of her now that you know her?’
‘Listen, I’ve been in love with her for years. There’s nowhere for this one to go except that we become lesbian lovers.’
He roared laughing. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Champagne. Dom P.’
‘You’re not cheap, I’ll say that for you. Listen, could I call round in the morning?’
‘Come now.’
‘Sure?’
‘I’m making tea and toasties.’
‘I’m on my way so.’ He was still smiling as he hung up. He hoped his news wouldn’t upset her.
Twenty minutes later they sat by the glowing two-bar, munching and sipping. She told him all about the show and how she hadn’t intended saying anything but it had all come out.
‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’ He watched her carefully. ‘We’ve got someone in custody.’
The bubbles left her system in an instant. ‘You caught him?’
‘We think so.’ He hesitated, not wanting to upset her. ‘He was mouthing off in a bar in town when he saw you on the show. Seems he was out of it. The barman rang us and tipped us off.’
Annie was terrified all over again.
‘He was . . . watching me?’
He nodded slowly.
‘And bragging about . . . what he’d done to me?’ It all came flooding back.
‘You and a number of others, it seems.’ He wa
sn’t sure how much to tell her.
‘There were others?’ Her eyes filled up.
‘Annie, don’t let him get to you, please.’ He wanted to hug her again. ‘You were lucky. It seems not all of them got away.’
Annie cried when she heard it and he put his arm around her.
‘I think it’s the champagne. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK. Perhaps I should have left this until the morning but I thought you’d want to know that he’s not a threat to you any more.’
‘Or any other woman.’
‘Or any other woman. There is one more thing . . .’ He watched her closely again. She looked up sharply.
‘What?’
‘We need you to identify him.’
‘No, please, don’t ask me. I couldn’t . . . look at him.’
‘It’s important, Annie. I wouldn’t ask you otherwise.’
She sat and said nothing for a long time, staring into the plastic flames.
‘OK.’
‘Good girl. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you.’
‘Will he be able to see me?’
He shook his head.
‘When?’
‘In the morning.’
‘What time?’
‘Say I call around about eleven?’
‘OK.’
He stood up, knowing he’d spoiled her evening. Damn, he should have left it until morning. He cursed his lack of sensitivity.
‘Thanks for telling me.’
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
Annie nodded but didn’t look it. He left her biting her lip. She wanted to ring Libby but didn’t want to disturb her. She’d moaned enough at her for one night.
When she awoke she was surprised to discover she’d slept at all, but last time she’d looked it had been four-thirty and now it was after nine. She jumped up and into the shower, despite the headache that threatened to saw her head in half.
She shivered each time she thought about what she had to do today. Her phone rang non-stop, everyone calling to congratulate her and offer support. Very few on the show knew exactly what had happened and all her new friends were horrified. Marc Robinson was one of only half a dozen or so who didn’t call.
