‘Are you thinking about staying with the acting stuff or are you going to try for production shit?’ Lockwood so eloquently asked Nelly.
She shrugged. ‘I’m worried if I just direct or produce that I’ll lose my nerve and skills to act, but I’d like to direct more than anything.’
Lockwood’s eyes widened. ‘Wouldn’t it be the coolest thing in the world ever if we were all in a film together and Cathy was the star, Nelly you were the director and I was the production manager?’ he sighed.
‘Let’s just make that happen,’ I said. ‘Oh, I sounded like one of those inspirational gift cards then.’
Nelly put her hand down flat on the table with a bang. ‘You are right, Cathy. Let’s make it happen,’ she said.
I put my hand on top of hers and then Lockwood did the same and we all raised them and high-fived.
‘That is bound to happen now,’ I teased. ‘Maybe one day we’ll have our own production company and then we can pick and choose roles and productions,’ I suggested.
‘Now you are talking,’ Nelly said.
‘And we’ve only had two drinks,’Lockwood grinned.‘Imagine what we could come up with after four!’
*****
My audition was at 9.45am in a hired studio near Oxford Circus Station – I hoped it wasn’t an omen that my audition was going to be a circus. In a clinical hallway that looked a bit like a doctor’s waiting room was a row of chairs where three or four people sat waiting. To the side of them were a desk and a girl with a very stylish haircut accentuating her heart-shaped face. She could have been a model or a star herself. She gave me a practised smile that didn’t look happy at all, ticked my name off the list, and gave me a two-page script.
‘Your part is the female,’ she said, with a smile bordering on a smirk.
I thanked ‘Happy’ and sat down with the other actors to get up to speed. An Indian guy and an older woman caught my eye and we exchanged brief nods and smiles. Another girl about my age didn’t look up or acknowledge me. Clearly, we weren’t all going for the same role.
Then a woman who was about my age and height burst through the door of the room in front of us. She was all smiles which she dropped pretty quickly once the door closed. Must have been part of her performance. She scanned the waiting actors, her eyes reaching mine and she sussed me out with a less-than-excited look. The competition. Then, Happy got up, walked to the front, stuck her head in the room and moments later told the Indian guy he was on. He caught my eye and I gave him a look of encouragement and he smiled.
I went through the two pages in front of me. I knew from the brief my agent gave me that it was a Romcom—a romantic comedy—and my role was the dizzy sister of the lead actor. He was unlucky in love and needed help. I was determined to have him married if it was the last thing I did on this earth. Sounds like Jane Austen’sEmmameetsBridget Jones’s Diary.It wasn’t going to be award-winning stuff, but if it was as big a hit asBridget Jones’s Diary, who’s complaining?
Righto, dizzy, huh, I can do that. A giggle, a hair toss, a look of determination at my brother, some arm folding and ‘tsking’, let’s do this. My phone vibrated and I looked to see a message from Edgar wishing me luck. My heartbeat hastened and my adrenaline spiked at seeing his name. He was filming this morning but still he remembered and sent me the message. I replied with a heart and kiss. I smiled like a love-sick teenager – ooh, I must channel that for my audition.
And then I waited. Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, forty minutes … I was losing my shine and energy, but eventually, the three people in front of me came and went, and by that time there were four behind me. My call-up came.
I fired up and entered the room. On the stage was a guy sitting on one of two stools, who I guessed was going to read the lines to me. Three people sat in the front row with folders on their laps, making notes.
‘Hi Catherine,’ the guy in the middle seat of the front row said. He rattled off their three names and I nodded to each of them and then introduced myself to the fellow actor next to me. He seemed to appreciate that.
‘Hey, the name’s Callum,’ he said, introducing himself and extending his hand to shake. ‘Hope you get it,’ and he gave me a wink.
I sat next to him and jokingly eyed him suspiciously. ‘Thanks. How many people have you said that to today?’ I asked.
He laughed. ‘Only twenty, honest.’
I grinned at him, and then waited for the cue. There was a method in my madness – I wanted to make him like me and I wanted to feel comfortable with him so that we’d come across as natural. Let’s hope that worked. There were a couple of coffee cups on a small round table between us and that was the total props for improvisation.
‘In your own time, thanks Catherine,’ came the call, and I began.
I took a deep breath and began acting with Callum. I cocked my head to the side, studied him and crossed my arms.
‘You know what you need?’ I asked.
‘God, yes,’ Callum said.
‘No, seriously, as your sister, it is my duty to say this…’
He groaned. ‘I feel a lecture coming on.’
I gave him a sympathetic look. ‘I’ll make it a short lecture.’