‘Are they here?’ said Amy, following her through the house towards the stable block.
‘Got here half an hour ago. Miranda’s in hair and make-up already. Liz Stewart is in there doing the interview.’
Amy felt her shoulders fall. It was good news that the talent was here on time, but she was never convinced that interviewees distracted by stylists and publicists made for the best copy.
‘Her manager insisted. Apparently they’ve got to be out of here by lunchtime.’
Miranda’s American manager, Karrie, was sipping at a cup of coffee impatiently, frowning with every sip as if it were toxic.
‘I hope this isn’t going to take long,’ she snapped, putting her drink down on the windowsill. ‘Miranda’s just bouncing back from tonsillitis.’
Amy had her platitudes at the ready. She was used to dealing with celebrity entourages, who tended, as a breed, to be sullen and negative, perpetually whining about their client being on the verge of succumbing to Asian flu or whatever jet-setting disease was in the news that week.
‘It helps that we have a really strong idea. When the concept is good, we can usually nail it quickly,’ she said.
‘About that,’ said Karrie. ‘I was just talking to your art director, and she told me about the bubble bath . . .’
‘That’s right,’ said Amy. ‘The image we had in mind for the cover is Miranda in a big bath full of bubbles. It will be fun, glamorous. Very Rolling Stone meets Vanity Fair.’
‘Miranda is a serious actress,’ said Karrie pointedly. ‘Persuasion is out in November and there’s Oscars talk already. We can’t let anyone be distracted by photographs that are not on brand.’
Amy didn’t like to point out that until twelve months ago, Miranda Pilley was best known for an ABC sitcom.
‘Elise von Keist is one of the best photographers in the world,’ she said. ‘Almost every set of pictures she takes becomes iconic. Miranda’s publicist seemed very keen on the idea when we signed off on it two weeks ago.’
‘We do want to make this work,’ said Karrie, her threat not even thinly veiled. ‘But a bath. Bubbles. You’re going to have to rethink.’
‘Shit,’ muttered Amy after she’d gone. She was aware that Josie was standing awkwardly behind her. ‘Can you go and find some coffee, and then Janice, can you show Josie the clothes we’ve brought along to the shoot.’ It wasn’t the most exciting job she could give her, but she was sure Josie wanted to feel useful.
‘Nice girl,’ said Janice, watching Josie trot towards reception. ‘I had her in the fashion cupboard yesterday, sending shoes back to the PRs. No one likes doing returns, but she did it all in half the time my assistants usually take, and she didn’t bother me once. If she needed an address, she just picked up the phone.’
‘She’s keen, I’ll say that much,’ said Amy, still thinking about what they were going to put on the cover.
Liz Stewart, the journalist commissioned to write the cover interview, emerged from the dressing room.
‘That was quick,’ frowned Amy.
‘I was shooed away.’
‘How was it?’ she asked hopefully. Liz was one of the best celebrity interviewers in the business and had once won a writer-of-the-year award on the back of a ten-minute interview she’d done with Catherine Zeta-Jones in a bathroom in New York. If anyone could get good copy from a twenty-minute tête-à-tête, she could.
‘About as responsive as a week-old corpse,’ Liz said tartly. ‘Apparently she’s ill.’
‘So we’ve been told. Did you get anything?’
‘I tried. She was difficult. Every time I veered onto the personal stuff, they just shut me down.’
‘Isn’t she dating Leif Tappen?’ said Janice with interest. Tappen was still one of the bad boys of Hollywood, even though he was in his fifties.
‘She won’t sit in a bubble bath for a cover shoot. She isn’t going to admit to dating Hollywood’s baddest bad boy,’ replied Amy.
‘I heard he was on heroin.’
‘In the nineties. But all is forgiven when your movies have made three billion dollars at the box office. Liz, I need something, anything for a cover line.’
‘It will be a great piece,’ said Liz, returning to her usual bluster. Somehow Amy didn’t believe her.
Liz left and Janice went to show Josie the dressing room. The art director, Gemma, emerged from one of the suites looking frazzled.