Lucky Break (24 page)

‘Oh, I forgot . . .' Ian frowned, his hand already on the door. ‘A man called for you . . . Rob, I think it was.'

‘Thanks,' she yawned, but as soon as he'd retreated up the stairs she picked up the phone. ‘You rang?' she said, imperious.

‘I did indeed.' Rob's voice was low and teasing. ‘I'm coming into town tonight, wondered if you fancied a drink?'

Charlie hesitated. A drink meant many drinks. His hand on her arm, a tussle on the pavement while she tried to resist his kisses and then, giving in, a thrilling, thrashing film-star fuck up against the wall of the hall with the door slammed hard behind them.

‘Do you know what?' Charlie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. ‘I can't tonight. Filming at the crack of dawn. Sorry.' She yawned to show how tired she was. ‘Another time maybe?'

‘Baby . . .' Rob said enticingly. ‘Just one small drink?'

‘Sorry. No.' She held fast, savouring her power.

‘Hmmm.' Rob paused. ‘So what's the story? Got someone new?'

Charlie gasped in mock outrage. ‘I'm tired, that's all. And I've got lines to learn. Some of us take our careers seriously.'

‘It's that new lodger, isn't it? I expect he's cooking for you right now, while you take a bath and slip into something comfortable.'

‘Hardly. He's only got one thing on his mind and that's an advert for Munchy Mix.'

‘Tasty.' Rob laughed. But her cruelty had infected her and she asked coolly after his latest girlfriend, a regional theatre director with a ten-year-old child, the last in a long line to have lured Rob away.

‘OK, OK,' he said huffily. I just wanted to catch up, that's all. Another time. Sweet dreams.' And he put down the phone.

 

Charlie lay in the bath and worried about Melina. She knew she could write a back story for her, dissect her actions, imagine for herself every intimate detail of her life, but she'd always claimed to despise such methods. ‘Have you never heard of Acting?' she liked to quote Laurence Olivier, with whom no one was inclined to argue, and she'd looked on scornfully as her fellow students sat ensconced in their research. But Melina was tricky. She was so hard, so relentlessly cold. If I was her, she thought, I'd have run off with the gorgeous Colonel by now. Or at least abandoned myself to him behind the topiary, and then, although she'd promised herself she wouldn't, she began thinking about Rob. The magnets in the pads of his fingers, the electric current that shocked her each time they touched.

Fuck it, she decided, I'll call him back. So what if I look hideous? We'll go somewhere dark. And she leapt out of the bath, and grabbing a towel, she flung open the door just as Ian appeared on the landing. ‘I'm sorry,' he stammered, his eyes widening, his neck flushing deep red, and shaking her head, Charlie retreated into the bathroom. ‘Bollocks,' she said, although she was grateful too for being saved, and she splashed back into the water, where she lay, her long brown body submerged, the smell of nut roast, nauseating, drifting in under the door.

 

The next morning her skin was worse. There was a fourth spot, and a raised ridge of tiny white pimples in the crease of her chin. She peered at herself in disgust.

‘What am I going to do?' she said to Lauren, silently beseeching her to say that it was nothing – but Lauren took her face in her hands. ‘I suppose you could see a doctor.' She was sombre. ‘Get some antibiotics or topical lotion of some sort.' She began to mix a mud paste of foundation. ‘Before it gets any worse.'

All afternoon they worked on an exterior shot of the garden. Melina bending gracefully in long shot to gather armfuls of white flowers, meandering between the box hedges, sniffing the occasional rose. But as she neared the camera her self-consciousness rose up and strangled her, and twice, just the thought of her lumpy face swimming into focus made her stumble, and they had to start again. ‘Cut!' The director was flustered. ‘I've told you, no emotion! No one should know you care.'

 

As soon as she was safely in the car Charlie scrolled through her list of contacts. ‘Nelly?' she managed, turning away from the driver. ‘It's me. Something . . .' and then, unable to control herself a second longer, she began to cry.

‘Oh my God.' Nell was alarmed. ‘Sweetheart, darling, what is it?'

‘It's . . . umm . . . I . .  it's . . .' but she couldn't get a hold of herself. ‘I've got . . . oh it's so terrible . . .' Her tears turned to painful rasping sobs. ‘I've got spots!' Now she'd said it she was laughing. Sobbing and laughing, and wiping her nose.

‘You what?' Nell, relieved, was laughing too. ‘I thought someone had died!'

‘They have. Me. And the new spotty Charlie Adedayo-Martin has been reborn.' Charlie sniffed and without looking up, took the box of tissues offered by the driver.

‘Sweetheart,' Nell soothed. ‘Honestly. Do you want me to come over?'

‘Would you?' Charlie felt her eyes well up again. ‘I'll be home in forty minutes. I'm warning you I look horrific.'

‘Likely story,' Nell snorted, and she promised to be there by seven.

 

Ian was sitting at the table eating his nut roast when Nell arrived. ‘Hi,' he looked up, still chewing, when Charlie introduced them. Nell had brought a bottle of wine and Charlie set about opening it. ‘Do you want a glass?' She turned to Ian, but he shook his head, and pointed to his tumbler of water. ‘Nothing impure shall pass my lips.'

Charlie carried the bottle through to the sitting room and Nell followed with an ashtray and two glasses. She pushed the door shut behind them and they grimaced at each other. ‘Where did
he
come from?'

‘Some friend of a friend of Dan's. He's here to help pay the mortgage.'

Charlie poured the wine and went and peered at herself in the expensive gilt mirror above the fireplace. ‘See?' she turned to Nell. ‘Look what's happened to me.'

Nell came closer, creasing her forehead and screwing up her eyes as if she'd have to search for years before finding anything. But even though Charlie knew she was pretending, she was grateful all the same. ‘Well, I do see a few small . . . blemishes.' Charlie's heart sank. If even Nell was prepared to admit she looked like a monster, then what hope was there? She wished she hadn't rung her. She wished she hadn't come. ‘But I promise you,' Nell carried on, ‘unless I was this close, staring at you, searching for something wrong, I'd never notice. Truly.'

‘Really?' Charlie loved her again. ‘It's so strange, for the first time in my life I don't want anyone to look at me. And this job doesn't help. I'm meant to be a flawless beauty. Able to transcend impossible social barriers by the sheer irresistible gorgeousness of my looks. Yesterday they shot my whole scene from the point of view of the servant. All anyone will see is the back of my head.'

Nell laughed. ‘I don't believe you.' And Charlie, her hand up to her face, feeling for the little bumps along her jawline, agreed it wasn't entirely true.

 

Charlie and Nell curled up at either end of the sofa.

‘So how are
you
?' Charlie remembered to ask.

‘Not bad.' Nell poured herself more wine. ‘You know we're taking
Two Lobsters and a Prawn
to Edinburgh. To the festival.'

‘That's great.'

‘We've got these brilliant posters. Me and Sita with our guns, and once we're there we're going to go out flyposting. There won't be a person north of the border who doesn't know our show is on.'

Charlie had never seen Nell so happy. ‘Maybe I'll come up and see it, if I get a few days off.'

‘Yes, that would be great. But the place we're staying . . .' Nell looked worried. ‘It's a friend of Hettie's and she said if we didn't mind we could kip down in the kitchen . . .'

Charlie laughed. ‘I'll stay in a hotel. But I'm not sure anyway. I don't have my schedule yet. I may not have time.'

‘If you can . . .' Nell drained the last of her wine. ‘Bloody hell, this bottle's finished already! Shall I run out and get some more?'

‘No. I'll go. Stay right here.' Charlie snatched up her bag and ran down the stairs to the front door. As she stepped out on to the street she came face to face with the man who paced daily back and forth, shouting and cursing, his eyes darting sideways as if it may not have been him. Sometimes it seemed that Charlie never opened her door without confronting him, his stick raised, his mouth open in a roar. She waited a moment until he was ahead of her and then darted across the road, round the corner and past the chip shop to the off-licence. She chose a chilled bottle of white and waited while the man in front bought three cases of lager.

‘All right,' he winked at her as he stacked them into his arms and she smiled her most unfriendly smile.

 

‘Ian's got a crush on you,' Nell whispered delightedly once they were back on the sofa.

‘Don't be ridiculous,' Charlie shook her head – she'd found them chatting together in the kitchen – but all the same she went and looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, and the spots had darkened to maroon points under the concealer. They felt itchy and sore. ‘What makes you say that?'

Nell looked at her. ‘Just the usual signs. Blushing. Stammering. An inability to stop mentioning your name . . .'

Charlie flung herself back down. ‘He's all right. Just one more insecure actor, that's all.'

‘You know what's happened to me?' Nell's eyes were sparkling.

‘No? What?'

‘I've met someone.'

‘You're joking. Why didn't you say? Who is he?'

‘He's . . . well, the really amazing news is . . . he's
not
an actor.'

‘My God . . . there are such people!?'

Nell was excited. She knelt up on the sofa. ‘I did this thing. I read about it. I made a wish list. Apparently if you write down everything you want and put it in a drawer, it all comes true. So at the top I put “A Boyfriend – But No Actors”.'

‘What else?'

‘A job. A flat of my own. With a view.' She looked round wistfully at Charlie's large sitting room which she'd helped paint in a ragged distressed yellow. ‘Children. Umm. What else. A waist . . . smaller tits.' She was laughing. ‘Anyway, three days later, literally, I went to see a play at the Finborough Theatre. You know Samantha was in
The Maids
, again. And I got talking to this guy.'

‘And did you warn him?'

‘What? That I'd sworn off actors. No. Well, not until I found out he was a stage manager.'

‘What's he like?'

‘Well.' Nell went dreamy. ‘He's good at moving furniture around.'

Charlie kicked her.

‘No, he's lovely. He's about 5.10, curly hair . . . Green eyes.'

‘Sounds like Dan.' Nell kicked her back. ‘I hope he appreciates you, that's all.' Charlie was already prepared to hate him. She wouldn't admit it but it suited her when Nell was single. ‘So, not a hopeless loser like all the others?'

‘You can talk!'

‘True,' Charlie agreed and she reached for the wine.

‘I'm starving now,' Nell said hopefully. ‘Do you have anything in?'

‘Sorry.' Charlie shook her head. There was nothing in the house except fifteen boxes of nut roast mix and they weren't even hers.

‘You don't look after yourself,' Nell told her.

Charlie put a hand to her face. ‘Maybe it's all the location food. It is particularly disgusting this time.'

‘You know, there's a brilliant Chinese doctor round the corner from here. He cured a friend of my sister's who had eczema. I'll get you the number. Or a nutritionist. Or maybe you should see one of those homeopaths that tell you about your allergies.'

‘Yes,' Charlie sounded unconvinced.

‘Well, if I'm going to get the bus . . .' Nell looked round for her bag, ‘I should get going.'

‘So where's the gorgeous stage manager tonight then?' Charlie asked as she hugged her goodbye.

‘On tour. I'm going to stop on the way to Edinburgh and see him.'

‘Have fun.'

‘I'll ring you with those numbers. As soon as I get them.'

‘Thank you. And thanks for coming round.'

‘Bye.' Nell trotted down the stairs, her lovely homely body swaying with wine and the knowledge she was useful.

‘Bye,' Charlie waved. ‘Bye.' And she was gone.

 

Charlie was woken by the bell. Who could that be? Today was her day off, and no one visited at ten in the morning. She waited, hoping Ian might rise from the cave of his room and answer it, but assuming, rightly, that no one ever called for him, he didn't stir. The bell rang again. Sharp and insistent.