‘I really am sorry . . . I didn’t know . . .’
She smiled. ‘Hey, no worries. He may be my nephew but that doesn’t mean I don’t know that he can be a bit of a tosser on occasion. But, as I said, he’ll learn.’
I almost choked laughing as the car approached the pub where we’d seen Roland earlier.
‘Er, Bill, could you slow down a moment,’ said Charlie, as we spotted Roland. He was still at the same table and still had his mobile stuck to his ear. She rolled down her window as Bill slowed the car down.
‘Hey, Roland,’ she called. ‘Try and keep the phone line free in working hours. Oh, and this is Squidge. I just hired him so make sure you put his name on the books.’
She rolled her window back up and the car picked up speed. I turned round to look out of the back window. Roland was gawking after us with his jaw hanging open.
THE FOLLOWING Monday, Mac and I set out for our first experience of the wonderful world of film. I felt fantastic. T.T.T. Tip Top Tastic. This was my dream and it was about to come true. I’d be working in the movies and mixing with the stars.
We’d heard that Savannah, the American teen star, was going to be playing the part of Estella as a young woman, and Donny Abreck was taking time out from his band’s European tour to play Pip. Mac was over the moon as Savannah was one of his pin ups. At least she used to be before he removed all his babe posters so that Becca wouldn’t get jealous when she came back to his bedroom. I couldn’t wait. I’d be rubbing shoulders with celebs. I’d be a part of it. Nothing could be more glamorous. I felt like this was the beginning of the rest of my life.
We’d been told to report to the unit base that had been set up in the car park to the right of the main house on the Mount Edgecumbe estate.
‘Get a load of this!’ gasped Mac as we rode up the drive on our trusty bikes and got our first glimpse of the set.
‘Looks like the circus has come to town,’ I said, parking my bike and taking in all the trailers, vans and cars that had taken over the car park in the last few days. The set was far bigger than anything I’d imagined and already was humming with activity. People were buzzing around looking purposeful and important. There were workmen carrying ladders, cables and tool kits; others were erecting a marquee at the back of the car park; others were putting up what looked like outside loos. Girls in parkas were rushing about, shouting into mobiles; others – the actors, I supposed – looking more relaxed, lounging about in the catering tent, drinking tea and reading their scripts.
Some bloke in a black puffa jacket pointed out the production office, which I’d been told to ask for, and Mac took off towards the back of the car park to begin his car-washing service under the watchful eye of the security men. As I set off to find Roland, I saw Cat waving at me from a marquee with a trailer behind it over in the right-hand corner of the car park. No harm in just saying hi, I thought, as the inviting aroma of bacon and toast wafted my way.
‘Posh nosh,’ she said, pointing to tables heaving with serving dishes. ‘Eggs, bacon, croissants, coffee, fruit – you name it, it’s here. Becca and I haven’t drawn breath since we started. It was only an hour ago but I feel like I’ve done a full day’s work already. Everyone’s been stuffing their faces non stop.’
‘An army marches on its stomach,’ I said. ‘So give us a bacon sarnie.’
‘Coming up,’ said Cat, reaching for the bacon.
Just as I was taking my first bite, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
‘Skiving already?’ said Roland.
‘Nuuoo,’ I protested through a mouth of bacon.
He looked at his watch. ‘Four minutes past eight. You were supposed to be here at eight.’
‘I was,’ I said. ‘Sorry. I was just on my way.’
Roland glanced at the sandwich in my hand. ‘Yeah, I can see that.’
Cat gave me a sympathetic look behind his back before turning away and beginning to load bread into a toaster.
‘Right,’ said Roland. ‘First job. Some of the actors are on health kicks and no way would they eat any of this.’ He indicated the food in the tent. ‘They only eat organic. So, Squidge, I trust that you do do organic down here in the country?’
‘Yeah, think so,’ I said. Like, yeah, course, I wanted to say. Where does he think he is? Clearly to him, this is the back of the back of beyond and it’s a surprise that we have electricity. Organic wouldn’t be a problem. Cat’s dad runs the local store, and he does the full range, some of it supplied by Becca’s dad, fresh from his allotment. But I decided not to be a know it all. I needed to get on with Roland so I wanted him to feel like he had the upper hand.
‘Think so, won’t do,’ said Roland. ‘Know so. We need food that hasn’t been sprayed with chemicals and doesn’t contain preservatives or additives. Savannah, for one, won’t eat anything else when she gets here. And she only eats wheat-free bread; apparently she’s glucose intolerant. So, here’s a list. I expect you’ll have to go across to Plymouth,’ he said smirking, ‘or even Exeter, so I’ll give you until lunch-time.’
Easy peasy, I thought. It would take me ten minutes to get to Cat’s dad’s shop. Ten minutes there and ten minutes back. But I wasn’t going to let Roland know that. He obviously thought he’d set me a horrible task that was going to take me hours. I didn’t feel it was my place to disillusion him.
As I walked to my bike, I realised that he hadn’t given me the list, so I backtracked and found him in the production office. He was in there with a couple of the girls I’d seen earlier.
He smirked when he saw me, and held up the list. ‘Forget this, did you?’
‘Actually you forgot to give it to me,’ I said, before I could stop myself. ‘And I need some cash to pay for it all.’
He gave me a pitying look, counted out some notes, then glanced at one of the girls, as if to say, ‘What can you do with these country idiots?’
I stepped up and took the list. ‘Thank you so much, sir.’
One of the girls laughed and Roland looked perplexed for a moment like he wasn’t quite sure what was going on.
Eejit, I thought as I left.
Roland had me go back and forth between the village and unit base time after time, all day. This actor wanted spring water, and only Evian mind you, nothing else would do. Another actor wanted gingko biloba capsules, to help their memory, another wanted postcards, another fags, another stamps. Then one wanted Earl Grey tea but when I turned up with it, Roland told me it had to be decaffeinated. When I came back with the decaffeinated tea I was told another actor wanted green tea. This was when I began to realise that Roland was taking the piss. He could have got himself organised and given me one long shopping list, so that I could have bought everything in one trip. But then, that would have taken the fun out of it for him. Clearly, giving me a hard time was one of the perks of his job. What’s that quote? I asked myself. Mine is not to question why; mine is just to do or die. That’s it. Or is until I am a director with my own team of runners. The likes of Roland won’t even get a look in on my film sets.
At around five o’clock, I was returning from yet another trip, when I saw a familiar figure striding across the grass towards one of the actors’ trailers. It was Martin Bradshawe. The Martin Bradshawe. Actor, pianist and legend in his own time though he was a pianist before he really became famous, and a lot of people who know his face from TV or movies don’t know about that part of his career. What was he doing here? Which part was he playing? Before I knew it, I’d shot across and was walking next to him.
‘Hi, I’m a runner. Can I get you anything?’ I asked.
Martin turned and smiled. ‘A decent coffee and a packet of fags wouldn’t go amiss,’ he said. Then he jerked his finger towards the catering trailer. ‘The machine in there’s kaput and they can only do instant. Sorry, but I don’t do instant. I think it’s sacrilege against the great God of Coffee Beans.’
‘Filter or espresso?’
‘Oh, don’t tease me.’
&nb
sp; ‘I’m not.’
‘Espresso.’
‘Back in a minute,’ I said.
I ran to my bike and rode like the wind until I reached the pub by the ferry. I flew through the door. There was my cousin Arthur behind the bar, as always.
‘All right, Arthur?’
Arthur grunted. He was never one for conversation, but he did like his coffee. He owned a cappuccino machine, a filter machine, a cafetiere and numerous other coffee-making appliances. He’d got married only the year before and for a laugh, lots of the family got him coffee makers as wedding presents. ‘Makes a change from toasters,’ my Uncle Bill had said. Now Arthur has the best collection of coffee machines in the south west. Within minutes, I had hot, fresh coffee in a flask and was racing back to the actors’ trailer with it.
Martin couldn’t believe it. Nor could he believe I knew about his career as a musician.
‘You’re kidding,’ I said. ‘My dad’s got all your CDs. I grew up with your music.’
After that there was no stopping us. I found out that he was playing the part of Mr Jaggers, the lawyer, and we got talking about music, movies and coffee. We were getting along like a house on fire, discussing our favourite movies (Citizen Kane directed by Orson Welles for him and Reservoir Dogs directed by Quentin Tarantino for me), when suddenly a dark shape appeared at the trailer door. It was Roland.
‘Ah, Squidge. Where have you been?’
‘Um, getting coffee for Mr Bradshawe,’ I blustered. I hadn’t stopped for a break all day so I figured it would be all right to chat to Martin for just a few minutes.
‘And what are you doing in here?’
‘Um, talking to Mr Bradshawe.’
‘Word in private,’ said Roland. Giving me a really false smile as he beckoned me out.
I followed him and as soon as we were out of hearing distance, he turned to me with a face like thunder.
‘What the hell were you doing in there?’
‘Just chatting,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t believe it. Martin Bradshawe. He’s a legend.’
Roland obviously didn’t share my enthusiasm. ‘Legend or not, you keep out of the actors’ trailers. The actors aren’t interested in the likes of you. Don’t try to get friendly with them. They don’t want it. You have to know your place on a set like this. There are the stars and there are the runners and the two don’t mix.’
‘We were getting on great.’
‘He was being polite.’
‘I was trying to make him feel comfortable.’
‘Not your job, mate.’
Part of me wanted to say, ‘I’m not your mate, mate’ but I bit my tongue. It was only my first day and I didn’t want to blow it with him. Like it or not, he was the one I took my orders from and I had to play the game.
I glanced at my watch. Only half an hour to go before the end of the day. ‘So what would you like me to do next?’ I asked.
Roland grinned. ‘Savannah will be here at the end of the week. So her trailer needs a bit of cleaning, nothing too bad.’
No problem, I thought. Cleaning I can do. I’ve always done my share of chores at home. Mum says she doesn’t want her kids going out into the big, wide world without a clue about how to look after themselves.
‘Over here,’ said Roland, pointing to a large trailer to the left of the car park.
As he started off towards the trailer, I saluted behind his back and fell into step, marching behind him like he was an army major and I was a soldier. Martin Bradshawe came out and stood on the steps of his trailer. I could see he was laughing.
‘She has her own private facilities,’ explained Roland as he led me up into an enormous Winnebago. It was fabulous inside. Like one of those rooms you see on decorating programmes on the telly after the experts have been in: simple, tasteful, all soft colours, minimalist furniture.
‘Looks immaculate to me,’ I said.
‘Yeah, should be,’ said Roland. ‘The cleaners have been in all day, but they’ve just knocked off and didn’t get this bit cleaned . . .’ He opened a door to the right of the trailer. ‘Smells like some real yob was in here.’
He didn’t need to tell me more. The stench finished the story. Disgusting and a half. No way could a babe like Savannah use it. She’d probably sue.
‘It’s been left locked up and it obviously wasn’t cleaned after it was last used,’ said Roland. ‘It needs airing, scrubbing, disinfecting – I want it smelling of roses by the time you’ve finished.’
With that, he left, but not before giving me a big, cheesy grin. He was enjoying every second. I looked back at the stinky room. I was supposed to finish at six but this was a job that would take ages.
I set off for the cleaning trailer and bumped into Mac, who was just getting ready to leave for the day. He held up his hands. ‘If I have to do any more washing, I think I may lose the will to live,’ he said.
‘Tough day?’ I asked.
Mac nodded then shrugged and shook his head. ‘Yeah, actually, no. It’s been OK. There are some nice people around here and we’ve had a laugh. It’s just that washing cars gets tedious after the first few. Meeting some of the make-up girls made up for it though. Have you checked them out yet?’
I shook my head.
‘Some hot babes. Like the girls you get on make-up counters in big department stores. They’re a breed all of their own. One of them, Julie, keeps checking I’ve had a break and a hot drink and so on. I think she wants to take me home and mother me.’
‘Better not let Becca catch you,’ I said.
‘I know,’ said Mac. ‘She’s been watching me like a hawk. But no worries, it’s only a bit of fun. Julie’s probably twice my age. So how’s your day been?’
I filled him in on the trips back and forth to the village and told him about the last job Roland had given me.
‘Oh, tough call,’ he sympathised. ‘Here, I’ll help you get some stuff together.’
We gathered up some cleaning things from the supplies cupboard, then, with rubber gloves and bucket in hand, we walked over to Savannah’s Winnebago. As soon as I opened the door to the bathroom, Mac held his nose.
‘Woah, Major Stinkingtons, sir,’ he grimaced. ‘Who’s been in this trailer before it came here? A bunch of football yobs with a taste for curried eggs and pickle?’
‘By the smell, something like that, I reckon,’ I said. ‘Anyway, thanks for the cleaning stuff. I guess you’ll be off now.’
Mac looked at his watch. ‘Yeah, my shift has finished for the day.’ He surveyed the room. ‘This is going to take you ages.’
I nodded. ‘Tell me about it. Best get started . . .’
Mac let out a huge sigh. ‘Peanuts. I can’t leave you with this. I’ll give you a hand. Many hands make light work, etc, etc.’
I could have hugged him. ‘You’re a real mate,’ I said. ‘I owe you one.’
And so ended my first day: on my hands and knees with my face down a very pongy loo.
‘Welcome to the glamorous world of the movies,’ laughed Mac, as he dowsed the toilet bowl with pine disinfectant.
‘Yeah right,’ I said as I got down on my knees and wiped some suspicous slimy soap remains from the bottom of the shower unit. ‘Eukkkk.’
Mac grinned. ‘OK, time for a tune. Ready . . . And a one, a two, a one two three . . .’
‘There’s no business like show business,’ we sang, as we tried to ignore the smell and scrubbed.
FOR THE first week, I cleaned, I fetched, I carried. I fell into bed at night then dragged myself out of it early each morning. At unit base, Roland clearly had it in for me, and there was nothing I could do to win him over. Charlie gave me a wave sometimes when she saw me and once even came over and asked how I was getting on. ‘Great,’ I said. I wasn’t going to tell tales on Roland the Rat. I’ve had to deal with boys like him all my life. There’s one in every year at school, so he was nothing new.
By the end of the week I was shattered. It was hard work, and a few fellow workers f
rom our school quit. But for me that wasn’t an option: I still had my camcorder to replace or repair. And despite the hard work, for the most part, I was enjoying myself immensely and wouldn’t have missed the experience for the world.
On Saturday morning, I rolled out of bed extra early. It was the big day: Savannah was due to arrive that morning and I wanted to be sure that I made a good impression. Although there were a few big names in the production, she would be my first encounter with a real superstar. Savannah and Donny Abreck were the only two who were mega, as in known all over the world. It was awesome that I would be on the same set as them.
As I fumbled my way into the bathroom and reached into my soap bag for my razor, my thoughts turned to Lia. I’d managed to put my big foot in it with her yesterday. She’d phoned to tell me that Charlie had asked if she’d like to be an extra in the ballroom scene that they were filming tonight.
‘You?’ I’d said. I guess I must have sounded incredulous, as she was quiet for a few moments.
‘Yeah, me,’ she’d said finally. ‘Why not?’
‘Loads of reasons,’ I’d said. ‘Charlie must be mad. I would never cast you as an extra . . .’
She’d hung up on me before I could explain that an extra has to be in the background and a girl as beautiful as her would attract attention away from the main action. She’d left her phone on answer all evening. I’d left loads of messages asking her to call me back but she hadn’t.
Starstruck Page 4
