by Lynne Shelby
‘Thank you,’ I said, climbing out of the car and onto the pavement in what I hoped was a suitably elegant manner for a girl wearing a designer dress and a faux fur coat.
‘You’re very welcome, Miss Ashford,’ the driver said. ‘I’ll be back at one a.m to pick you up. You have a good night.’
‘Thanks,’ I said again. When I’d told Cassie I was intending to travel to the Star Gazer Gala by tube she’d been horrified, and had insisted on booking me a car, and charging it to her account. I did appreciate not having to negotiate the Saturday night crowds and the escalators in a floor-length gown.
The car drove off. I looked around for Owen. The pavement outside the hotel was crowded with people in evening dress heading into the gala, but I spotted him standing by the entrance. He scrubbed up rather well, I thought, even if his borrowed DJ was a little tight across the shoulders. He was talking to a girl wearing a red dress, who I recognised as Julie Diaz, and a tall, dark-haired man, who since he had his arm around her waist, I assumed was Julie’s husband, Zac. They were a strikingly good-looking couple. And according to Owen, they were well-known in showbusiness. Feeling slightly intimidated, I went and joined my client.
‘Lucy. Hi.’ Owen greeted me with a kiss on each side of my face. ‘You’ve met my friend Julie…’
Julie and I smiled and nodded at each other.
‘This is her husband, Zac Diaz,’ Owen went on. ‘Zac, this is Lucy Ashford, my agent.’
‘Good to meet you,’ I said.
‘And you,’ Zac said.
‘Julie and Zac have been asked to sing for us tonight,’ Owen said.
‘I’ll look forward to that.’ If Owen’s friends are performing at the Star Gazer Gala, I thought, they must have played leads in the West End. I decided to Google Zac and Julie Diaz at the first opportunity.
‘I hope you don’t mind, Lucy,’ Zac said, ‘but when Owen told me that you and he were coming tonight, I phoned my aunt and had her put us all on the same table. She’s on the Star Gazer fundraising committee.’
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ I said, happy to sit with Owen’s friends. Besides which, I was pretty sure that sharing a table with the relatives of one of the gala’s organisers counted as good networking.
Julie said, ‘Shall we go in? I’d like to check out the stage.’
We went into the hotel where an army of hostesses, all wearing slinky black evening gowns, stood ready to relieve us of our coats, and usher us into a flower-bedecked, candle-lit ballroom. Our table was one of many placed around a small dance floor, and we were sharing it with an actress friend of Julie’s and her lawyer husband, and a young up-and-coming comedian and his scriptwriter (I was quite unable to tell if their relationship was anything other than professional). Looking round at the people sat at the other tables, I saw many famous faces, actors I recognised from TV, several of Reardon Haye’s clients, a politician who was known to be a generous patron of the arts and a couple of casting directors. Then, as my gaze wandered over the tables on the far side of the room, I found myself looking directly at Nadia.
She was sitting with a group of people I didn’t know. I did, however, recognise the man sitting next to her. Sam Hurst, the film director. The last time I’d seen them together had been at BarRacuda. The night Ryan had been photographed with a mystery blonde. The night I was convinced that Nadia had cheated on her boyfriend Leo. Who was not amongst the people sitting at Nadia’s table.
Owen, sitting next to me and noticing who I was looking at, said, ‘Isn’t that Nadia Pincher?’
Before I could answer, Julie Diaz, who was sitting on the other side of Owen, said, ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Oh, do you know Nadia?’ I said.
‘Not really,’ Julie said. ‘Not any more. I used to work with her, but I haven’t seen her in years. Is she a client of yours?’
I shook my head. ‘She’s my friend Cassie Clarke’s PA.’
At that moment, Nadia looked up and saw the three of us staring at her. For an instant she looked startled, but then she smiled and waved. I waved back. She said something to Sam Hurst, and then she got to her feet and walked across the dance floor to our table. She was wearing a gold dress that clung to her in all the right places, and however much I disliked her, I had to admit she looked good in it.
‘Julie!’ Nadia exclaimed as she reached our table. ‘Zac! How lovely to see you both. It’s been an age.’
‘Hello, Nadia,’ Julie said, with considerably less enthusiasm.
Zac, who was talking to the scriptwriter, nodded at Nadia, but didn’t interrupt his conversation. Nadia positioned herself behind my chair.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight, Lucy,’ she said. ‘If you’d told me you were coming, we could have shared a cab.’
I felt compelled to say, ‘You can travel home with me, if you like. I’ve a car booked for one o’clock.’
Ignoring my grudging offer of a lift, Nadia said, ‘You look different tonight, Lucy. Not at all your usual style. That dress you’re wearing… Is it Cassie’s?’
‘Yes, it is. Well, it was. She gave it to me.’
‘And I see you have one of her bags as well. She’s so generous to you.’
‘She certainly is.’ You patronising cow, I thought.
Nadia turned to Owen. ‘And here’s another blast from the past. Long time no see, Owen. I hear you’re an actor these days. How’s that working out?’
‘It’s working out just fine.’ Owen smiled at me. ‘Thanks to my amazing agent.’
‘Lucy is doing well, isn’t she?’ Nadia said. ‘Particularly for someone so young and in her first job. Did you know that before she started at Reardon Haye she’d never worked in showbusiness?’
‘No I didn’t know that,’ Owen said.
‘Oh yes, if it wasn’t for Cassie Clarke persuading Eleanor Haye to take her on,’ Nadia continued, ‘Lucy wouldn’t have had a chance of becoming a theatrical agent. She knows very little about the industry.’
‘Is that so?’ Owen said.
‘But you mustn’t worry that having Lucy as your agent will hold you back in your career. I’m sure her hard work makes up for her lack of experience.’
Nadia has just told Owen that I’m not fit to represent him, I thought. My face grew hot. I opened my mouth to say something in my own defence, but no words came out, so I shut it again. Mortified, I glanced at Owen. His expression was unreadable. Next to him, Julie Diaz, visibly embarrassed, shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Fortunately, the others at the table, engrossed in their own conversations, hadn’t heard what Nadia had said. Or if they had, they were pretending they hadn’t.
Owen said, ‘Lucy does work hard on my behalf. That’s how she gets me so many auditions.’
I flashed Owen a grateful smile. Nadia, however, wasn’t listening to him. Her attention was on her own table on the other side of the room, where Sam Hurst was talking to a curvaceous Shakespearean actress.
‘Well it’s been great catching up with you all,’ Nadia said, ‘but I mustn’t abandon my other friends. I’ll let you know if I need to come home in the car with you, Lucy.’
I gaped at her. Did she seriously expect me to give her a lift home when she’d deliberately humiliated me in front of a client?
Abruptly, Nadia turned on her heel and walked back across the dance floor to her own table. I watched as she slid into her seat next to the film director, touching his arm to get his attention, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes, and leaning close to whisper in his ear.
Poor Leo, I thought.
‘That woman is a piece of work,’ Owen said.
I took a deep breath. ‘Owen, what Nadia said about me –’
Owen’s blue eyes looked directly into mine. ‘You’re good at what you do, Lucy, I really don’t care how long you’ve been doing it.’ With a grin, he added, ‘Anyway, from what I’ve seen of the agency, the extremely experienced Eleanor Haye keeps a pretty close watch on the rest of you.’
; Our talk was interrupted at that point by the arrival of the first course of our five-course meal, and I made a conscious decision to put Nadia out of my mind for the rest of the evening. The food was delicious and exquisitely presented (and more than enough for me, although I noticed Owen eating his way through the bread basket), and the wine and the conversation flowed. Like most actors, Owen’s friends were good company, with an endless supply of anecdotes about their chosen profession, and the comedian had us in fits of laughter with his jokes.
The waiters were bringing round the coffee when Julie said, ‘Zac, we need to get backstage.’
‘Yeah, time to sing for our supper,’ Zac said.
‘Break a leg guys,’ Owen said to them.
A few minutes after they had gone, a piano was wheeled out onto the low stage at the far end of the ballroom. The lights dimmed and then went out altogether. The talk and laughter, which had been deafening until then, faded into silence. A spotlight came on to reveal Julie Diaz alone in the centre of the stage. Another spotlight shone on Zac Diaz sitting at the piano. He played a few bars of intro, and then Julie started to sing. I didn’t recognise the song, but Julie’s pure soprano voice literally made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. This girl is incredible, I thought.
Julie finished her song to rapturous applause. With a smile for her audience, she walked over to the piano, where Zac sat with his hands idling over the keys. As she reached him he started to play a tune I did recognise, the famous duet from the musical A Tale of Two Cities. He sang the first verse of the song, and Julie sang the second, and then they sang the last verse together, their voices blending perfectly.
Owen whispered, ‘They’re good, aren’t they?’
I whispered back, ‘They’re outstanding.’
For the next half hour, Julie and Zac sang a selection of solos and duets from musicals and contemporary pop ballads. Their performance ended with Zac singing a love song to Julie, him sitting at the piano and gazing up into her face, while she stood very still and gazed back at him, a smile playing about her mouth all the while. Zac sang with such emotion that it almost made me cry.
The last notes of the song faded. There was a moment of silence as the entranced audience came back to themselves, and then the applause began again, growing ever louder as Zac led Julie to the front of the stage and they took their bow. When he pulled her towards him and kissed her, the cheers were ear-splitting. Beside me, Owen stood up and clapped harder still, and the rest of the audience were quick to follow.
The clapping and cheering only stopped when Zac and Julie left the stage and started to make their way back to our table. As they were accosted by someone wanting to talk to them at every table they passed, this took them quite some time. They had barely sat down, when a four piece band started setting up on stage. The music began, and they were the first couple on the dance floor, their dancing as impressive as their singing.
‘That last song Zac sang,’ I said to Owen, ‘is it from a musical?’
‘No, it’s not from a musical,’ Owen said. ‘It’s called Julie’s Song. Zac wrote it for her.’
‘That is so romantic,’ I said. ‘I may be just a tiny bit envious of your friend Julie.’
‘Isn’t your boyfriend the romantic type?’
‘Daniel?’ I said. ‘I’ve not been with him long enough to find out. You probably know him better than I do.’
Owen looked puzzled. ‘How come?’
‘You were at drama school with him.’
‘You’re dating Daniel Miller?’ Owen said.
‘I am,’ I said. ‘We got together at the Reardon Haye Christmas party.’
‘I remember,’ Owen said. ‘I was there. Daniel wanted the three of us to go on to a club.’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘But you couldn’t come. So I went to the club with Daniel. And now we’re an item.’ At least, I hope we are, I thought. Under the cover of the damask table cloth, I crossed my fingers.
‘So what’s it like to date a famous film star?’ Owen said.
‘No different from dating any other guy,’ I said. ‘Except for the fame.’
‘And where is the famous Fallen Angel tonight?’
‘In New York, on location for Fallen Angel II.’
‘Oh, well, if Dan’s off gallivanting in the Big Apple, he can’t have any objection to my dancing with his girl.’ Owen stood up and held out his hand.
‘I can’t dance, Owen.’
Owen grinned. ‘Do you need to phone your boyfriend and ask his permission?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘No. But I’m a terrible dancer. You might want to reconsider the invitation.’
For an answer, Owen took my hand and led me out onto the now crowded dance floor. He turned out to be a very good dancer, while I lurched from side to side in my usual awkward fashion, and tried not to step on his feet. When the music stopped, I thought I’d be able to make my escape, but before I could head back to our table, he caught hold of my arm.
‘One more dance,’ he said.
‘Really? Haven’t you suffered enough?’
The music started again, a slow dance this time. Owen rested his hands lightly on my hips. I stepped closer to him so that I could put my hands on his shoulders.
‘Relax, Lucy,’ he said. ‘Let me lead.’
‘If you must,’ I said. Owen laughed and began to dance, moving easily with the music.
‘Look at me,’ he said.
I looked up into Owen’s blue eyes, and let the gentle pressure of his hands guide my movements, and suddenly I realised that my body was moving in time to the music. I was dancing. I was sorry when the dance came to an end and Owen led me back to our table.
‘I don’t know how you did it,’ I said to him, ‘but I really enjoyed that.’
Owen smiled. ‘If I don’t make it as an actor, I guess I can earn a living as a dance instructor.’
‘But you are going to make it as an actor,’ I said.
Owen smiled again. ‘Yes, I am.’
The evening went on. People moved from table to table, chatting to old friends, and making new ones. Zac introduced me to his aunt, who told me to be sure to remember her to Eleanor Haye. Nadia left the gala arm in arm with the film director. She did not come over to our table to say goodbye. The band announced the last dance. The comedian and the scriptwriter decided to call it a night, as did Julie’s actress friend and her lawyer husband.
It was well after midnight when Owen and Zac went out to the bar to fetch one final round of drinks, leaving Julie and me sitting at the table.
Unexpectedly, she said, ‘Nadia Pincher upset you tonight didn’t she?’
‘She did a bit,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t seem to like me much. I don’t know why.’
‘Don’t let her get to you, Lucy. She’s like that with everybody. It’s as though she can only feel good about herself when she’s putting other people down.’
‘It isn’t just me then?’
‘No it isn’t.’ Julie hesitated, and then she added, ‘When I first graduated from drama school I couldn’t get any work as an actress, and I took a job handing out flyers for a nightclub…’
‘Is that how you met Owen? He told me he’d had a job handing out flyers.’
Julie nodded. ‘Nadia worked there as well. I hadn’t been dating Zac very long when she took great delight in warning me that he was the type who slept around, because she didn’t want me to get hurt. He doesn’t sleep around, by the way.’
‘The way he sang to you,’ I said, ‘I’d kind of worked that out. Nadia is such a stirrer.’
‘She’s a bitch,’ Julie said. ‘I feel bad saying it, but that’s what she is. My advice to you is to ignore her.’
‘I will in future. It was just that tonight I was so angry about what she said to Owen.’
‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ Julie said. ‘Owen really rates you. Actually, I’m glad I’ve had a chance to talk to you, because I’ve been thinking about getting an age
nt. Would it be OK if I sent you my CV?’
A West End star was asking if I’d take a look at her CV!
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Let me give you my card.’ Thanking the patron saint of theatrical agents that I’d thought to stash a handful of Reardon Haye business cards in my bag before I’d left home that night, I passed one to Julie. ‘Which agency are you with at the moment?’
‘I’m not with anyone,’ Julie said.
‘That’s very unusual,’ I said. Very few performers managed to get work without an agent to introduce them to directors and producers. For a West End actress not to have an agent was virtually unheard of.
‘I know,’ Julie said, ruefully. ‘I did try to get an agent when I first left drama school, but no-one seemed to be interested in yet another wannabe with stars in her eyes. And without an agent, I didn’t get any performing work for a whole year. I nearly gave up acting. I was very lucky to get cast in my first role from an open audition. That really was the proverbial big break for me.’
‘You’re a successful actress.’ At least, I thought, I’m pretty sure you are. Even if I’ve never heard of you. ‘Why have you decided that you need an agent now?’
‘That’s the thing. I’m an actress. I want to spend my time acting, not negotiating contracts with production teams. Now that I’m getting so many offers of work, I need an agent to do the negotiating for me.’
I thought, I may just have found Reardon Haye another prestigious client. I felt a rising excitement.
Julie went on, ‘I feel it’s important that I’m not with the same agency as Zac. We do like working together, but we’re not a double act.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Email me your CV and give me a call on Monday. We’ll arrange a time for you to come into the office to discuss whether Reardon Haye is the right agency for you.’
‘Thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure.’ The successful West End actress is thanking me, I thought. Owen rates me. I am good at my job – whatever Nadia thinks.
Owen and Zac came back from the bar with four glasses of champagne.
