A Desirable Residence Part 9

Piers forced himself to break his train of thought. He'd been here before; too often to allow himself the self-indulgence of a.s.suming everything was OK. He had only met the guy, for G.o.d's sake. It wasn't as if he'd even done an audition yet. There was really nothing to get excited about. And yet, as he stared deliberately blankly round the room, taking in the bank of four television screens mounted on the wall, the framed awards, the rows of books and magazines, the piles of folders and papers and scripts, he felt his heart thudding with an incipient exhilaration. Alan Tinker was an important man. He was a head producer. If he liked someone, he had the power to make them big. If he liked them.

'We know you can act,' had been almost his first words. Piers stared down at the pale blue carpet of the office and allowed a secret, painful thrill to run through him. Alan Tinker knew he could act. Alan Tinker had told told him he knew he could act. him he knew he could act.

'But all of this isn't just about whether you can act or not,' Alan had added impressively. Piers nodded intelligently.

'Of course not,' he murmured, then wondered if it was a mistake to say anything.

'What we really want is commitment,' said Alan. Piers looked straight back at him, trying to adopt his most committed expression. 'We don't want someone who's going to disappear after six months to do, I don't know ...' Alan waved his arms airily '... a juicy part in the West End.'

'Of course not,' said Piers again. Some f.u.c.king chance, he thought bitterly.

'You've been doing a lot of stage work recently, haven't you, Piers?' Alan gave him a penetrating look.

'Yes,' said Piers. He thought desperately. 'But I'm very committed to working in television as a long-term aim.'

'Is that so?' Alan raised his eyebrows at Piers, who remembered, too late, the announcement in the latest edition of The Stage The Stage that Alan Tinker was setting up his own theatre company. f.u.c.k it. He just couldn't win. But Alan relented. 'Good, good,' he said encouragingly, and leant forward. 'Now, Piers, we on that Alan Tinker was setting up his own theatre company. f.u.c.k it. He just couldn't win. But Alan relented. 'Good, good,' he said encouragingly, and leant forward. 'Now, Piers, we on Summer Street Summer Street like to think of everyone, cast and crew alike, as part of a team. A family. If you're working as hard as we do, there's no time for not getting along with this person, or thinking yourself better than that person. You're just a part of the machine. A cog. Do you see what I mean?' like to think of everyone, cast and crew alike, as part of a team. A family. If you're working as hard as we do, there's no time for not getting along with this person, or thinking yourself better than that person. You're just a part of the machine. A cog. Do you see what I mean?'

'Yes, yes,' said Piers, trying to sound as convincing as he could. 'Everyone working towards the same goal.' What was he saying? The guy would think he was taking the p.i.s.s.

'Many actors,' Alan continued, 'consider themselves too important to blend in with a lot of others. After all, you have to be pretty self-centred to be an actor in the first place.' Piers wondered whether to dispute that. Was this some elaborate test to see whether he had any character; whether he could stand up for himself? He eyed Alan's face. But Alan looked in deadly earnest. And he'd always heard that the guy had some weird ideas.

'So what we like to do,' said Alan, 'as well as, obviously, a screen test, is to let each contender for a part come into the studio for a couple of hours, and rehea.r.s.e a few scenes with the rest of the cast. That way, if anyone is obviously not going to get on with the others, isn't going to blend in easily, then we realize it straight away.'

'Good idea,' Piers had said heartily. 'That really makes sense.'

Now, left alone, he rose to his feet, too keyed up to sit still. He paced over to the window, allowing his eyes to skim the papers on Alan's desk for anything interesting, then adopted a relaxed but elegant pose by the side of the window. Rupert, the character he would be playing in Summer Street Summer Street, was, if not exactly camp, then certainly not hearty-and it would do no harm to try to show Alan that he could look the part.

The door opened, and Piers turned his head unhurriedly. There in the doorway was a woman dressed in a pair of crushed-velvet leggings and suede boots up to her thighs.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but Alan asked me to tell you that he's been held up. He'll be in touch later this week.' Piers stared at her, blankly, stupidly, for a moment, and then realized what she was saying.

'Oh, I see,' he said. 'So I'll go now, shall I?'

'If you wouldn't mind,' said the woman, in tones that weren't quite sarcastic. 'Alan did ask me to apologize. But he's terribly busy at the moment.'

'Oh, no!' said Piers, hurriedly. 'That's fine. We'd finished our meeting, anyway.' The woman didn't look convinced.

'I'll show you out,' she said.

Piers followed as she marched along the carpeted corridors, nodding to people as she pa.s.sed but neither looking at Piers nor speaking to him. By the time they reached the entrance, he felt rather deflated.

'Well, goodbye,' he said, trying to summon up some cheer. 'Thanks for showing me the way.'

The woman didn't smile, but said, 'Could you give back your visitor's pa.s.s please,' and Piers handed over the white card feeling as though he'd been found infiltrating the building under false pretences. He pushed open the swing door, and threw his head back to a blast of chill winter wind. Who gives a f.u.c.k anyway? he thought to himself. They can keep their c.r.a.ppy little part.

But by the time he was on the train to Silchester, his initial excitement had returned. So what if some secretary had made him feel stupid. It was Alan Tinker who counted. And Alan Tinker had said he knew he could act. Now Piers sat staring out of the train window, running down the list of cast members in his mind. The characters of Summer Street Summer Street were mainly young, laid back, his kind of people. He would get on with them fine. He'd b.l.o.o.d.y well have to. were mainly young, laid back, his kind of people. He would get on with them fine. He'd b.l.o.o.d.y well have to.

It was dark when the train arrived, and even colder than before. Hurrying along the streets, Piers wondered idly if it might snow. He was not normally one to rejoice at snow; Ginny's inevitable raptures at the sight of even one snowflake usually amused and sometimes irritated him. But even he had to admit that a snowy Silchester might be quite pretty. And it was certainly cold enough. b.l.o.o.d.y freezing. As he strode along, he pictured in his mind the comforting image of a roaring, crackling, log fire. A gla.s.s or two of mulled wine. Perhaps even some mince pies. It wasn't quite December, but Christmas had been apparent in Silchester's shops for quite a while. He should be able to get hold of them. He looked at his watch. Half-past four. He would take Duncan along with him to the supermarket. Duncan would know what to put in mulled wine.

But as he neared twelve Russell Street, he saw that the windows were darkened, and a sense of disappointment came over him. He was in a mood for people and noise and celebration; the house would be cold and dark and empty. He was almost tempted to head back for the bustle of the town centre.

Then he saw a pair of feet poking out from the doorstep. His first thought was that it must be Ginny or Duncan, locked out, and he began to hurry towards the house. Ginny, in particular, was not good in the cold; if she had been sitting there for long, her fingers would be blue and she would be miserably snappy. He began to wonder if the water was on; if he would be able to run her a bath straight away and get a fire going downstairs. As he neared the gate, however, he saw that the legs were skinny and clad in thick tights, and that the feet were shod in incongruously large boots. It couldn't be Ginny. Of course. It was the kid. Alice.

He opened the gate, and she looked up, with a pale, startled face. She was sitting wedged up against the door, with her shoulders hunched up in her jacket and a pair of earphones on her head.

'h.e.l.lo there,' he said cheerfully. 'No one home?'

'No,' she said hesitantly. She reached inside her jacket pocket and turned off her Walkman. 'I wasn't going to wait long. I just thought I'd see if anyone came.'

'And a good thing you did,' said Piers heartily. In principle, he thought they were seeing a bit too much of this kid. She seemed to appear nearly every day, awkwardly popping her head round the kitchen door, or arriving in the front garden, waving at them through the sitting-room window. She never rang the bell; sometimes he wondered whether there were times when she'd failed to catch anyone's attention and had simply gone quietly away again. 'Now you can help me,' he continued. 'I need someone to come shopping with me to buy stuff for mulled wine. You know what to get for mulled wine, don't you?' Alice thought frantically. It was spices. She didn't know what sort. But she couldn't say no.

'Yes,' she said breathlessly.

'Good,' said Piers. He put his key in the lock. 'Now, come in for a sec. I want to get out of this jacket and put on something warmer.' He looked at her suspiciously. 'You look freezing. Do you want to borrow one of Ginny's sweaters?'

'No, no,' said Alice, 'thanks.' She blushed, but Piers was opening the door, and didn't see.

'Right,' he said, bounding up the stairs. 'Won't be long.'

Alice hovered in the hallway and hugged herself, half from cold, half from an unspecified nervousness. Even though she'd been coming round to see Ginny and Piers and Duncan quite a lot, she hadn't really ever spent any time with Piers. He unnerved her slightly; his voice was so loud, and sometimes she wasn't sure if he was being serious or not.

Ginny and Duncan were much easier to get along with. They always seemed pleased to see her, and made her cups of tea, and asked what had happened at school. Which was, in a way, Alice admitted to herself, just what her parents did-but with them it was completely different. When she told Ginny and Duncan about things, it all suddenly seemed far more interesting than before. Duncan always listened really intently, and made loud exclamations all the time, and called it the Unfolding Saga of St Catherine's. And Ginny always knew what she meant and understood why things were important, not like her mother, who always said things like, But if you've got a free period, why can't you spend it getting some of your homework done? But if you've got a free period, why can't you spend it getting some of your homework done?

Sometimes Ginny would tell her to come upstairs, and show her some clothes she'd bought, or some perfume, or make-up. Once, she'd made Alice up to look really glamorous, and another time she'd actually given her a brown jumper which she said she couldn't wear and would look stunning on Alice. Sometimes she brought stuff home from work and asked Alice to give her a hand, folding up press releases and putting them in envelopes, or labelling photographs of big country houses. She'd promised that when Alice had to do work experience for school, she could come and work in her office, and actually go on a press trip with real journalists.

Duncan didn't ever seem to do any work, but he always had funny stories about what he'd done during the day and about what he called the Good Burghers of Silchester. At first Alice thought he meant Burger King and McDonald's, but then she'd realized he actually meant all the people he met in the town centre. He seemed to go into town nearly every day, and he always saw something exciting or weird or revolting, or had a long conversation with a complete stranger. He never seemed to do normal things.

Sometimes Alice wondered whether she went round to see them all too much. Once or twice, when she'd arrived, Ginny had said kindly, 'Actually, Alice, this isn't a great time,' and Alice always felt like running away and never ever going back. But then Ginny always said something like, 'But how about tea on Sat.u.r.day?' or 'You will come back tomorrow, won't you?' And so she always did.

And, really, she couldn't bear to keep away. When she was with them, everything seemed exciting and glossy and fun. It made home seem even more drab and boring. Once, Ginny suggested that they should invite Alice's parents round for a drink, to meet them properly.

'They're very trusting,' she said, 'letting you spend all this time with a bunch of people they hardly know. Why don't you bring them round sometime?' Alice wriggled uncomfortably on her chair, and said her parents were very busy, and never went out, and they didn't mind where she went, honestly. In fact, that wasn't quite true. When she'd eventually told Liz and Jonathan where she was spending all this time after school, Liz had immediately suggested that Ginny and Piers come round for supper. Alice gasped in horror.

'They're really busy,' she said, 'and they never know when they're going to be free. But I'll ask them,' she added hurriedly, as she saw her mother opening her mouth to protest. 'I'll ask them.'

Ask them! Alice shuddered at the thought of it; of leading Ginny and Piers and Duncan through the empty pa.s.sages and cla.s.srooms of the tutorial college; of taking them up the narrow stairs to the tiny flat, of expecting them to sit down and eat shepherd's pie and talk to her awful parents. Her mother would pretend to be really hip, as if she knew all about acting, and her father would say things like, 'Which one is Summer Street Summer Street? Is it the one in Australia?'

Alice now knew all about Summer Street Summer Street. She knew that Ian Everitt was leaving the series, that they'd definitely decided to recast his part and that they'd asked Piers to audition for it. And she knew that he simply had to get it.

A few weeks ago, she and Ginny had spent the evening together alone while Piers and Duncan were seeing a play in London, and after a few gla.s.ses of wine, Ginny had told her all about it. How Piers hardly had any work any more, and how wonderful it would be if he was in Summer Street, Summer Street, and how then they could afford to move to a big house in Berks.h.i.+re and have lots of children and Alice could come and stay with them every summer. She got really excited about it, and so did Alice, and then they opened another bottle of wine and phoned up for some pizza and watched all the videos of Piers in old episodes of and how then they could afford to move to a big house in Berks.h.i.+re and have lots of children and Alice could come and stay with them every summer. She got really excited about it, and so did Alice, and then they opened another bottle of wine and phoned up for some pizza and watched all the videos of Piers in old episodes of Coppers Coppers.

Alice had never seen Piers on television before, and she was amazed. Amazed at how good he was, just like a proper famous actor, and amazed at how spooky it was, seeing him on the screen. And how weird she felt when she saw the bit where he kissed one of the police girls. She wanted to ask Ginny what she felt like when she saw that, but didn't quite dare. So they both sat, hugging their knees, watching in silence, as Piers slowly undressed the girl, and murmured things against her neck, and kissed her all over, and then the next thing it was morning and Piers and the girl were in bed together.

And then Ginny looked at Alice really strangely, and started asking her about her parents. Things like how long they'd been married, and wasn't it really hard for them running a business, and did her mother get much chance to have a social life. Alice had never really thought about either of her parents having a social social life before. But she answered all Ginny's questions as best she could. And then suddenly Ginny leant over and gave Alice a big hug, and said, 'Oh, poor little Alice!' life before. But she answered all Ginny's questions as best she could. And then suddenly Ginny leant over and gave Alice a big hug, and said, 'Oh, poor little Alice!'

Alice thought it was all a bit odd. But when she shyly told Duncan what had happened, he said that was just like Ginny, the old lush. And then he explained what a lush was, and then he somehow ended up being Sir Toby Belch for the rest of the evening.

'Right then!' Alice gave a startled jump as Piers appeared by her side, now wearing a huge cream aran jersey under a Barbour. 'Let's go shopping!'

They headed off down the street, Piers striding along briskly, Alice scuttling beside him; taking three steps for every two of his. For the first few minutes they proceeded in silence. Alice tried frantically to think of something to say. At one point she actually opened her mouth, but then thought better of it. It was only when they got to the short cut that she spoke.

'Actually, this way's quicker.' She flushed, as Piers stopped in his tracks.

'Really? Down there?'

'It's a short cut. I mean,' she floundered as his gaze fell on her, 'we don't have to go that way. We could carry on. It's just-'

'Of course we'll go that way.' Piers bestowed on Alice a charming smile as they began to walk again. 'Aren't I lucky to have had you with me? I would never have thought of looking for a short cut.' Alice glowed silently with pleasure.

'I went to see the producer of Summer Street Summer Street today,' said Piers suddenly. today,' said Piers suddenly.

'Really?' Alice looked up at him in awe. Piers had never said anything to her about Summer Street Summer Street, only Ginny.

'It's all looking quite good,' Piers added. 'He's going to set me up with an audition in the New Year.'

'Wow. That's so cool. Will you meet, like, all the people?'

'Yes.' He looked down at her. 'In fact, that's part of the audition. I've got to get along with the cast. Be part of the team.'

They had arrived at the supermarket now, and Piers held open the door for Alice. He picked up a basket and looked around expectantly.

'Now come on,' he said. 'What do we want? Cinnamon sticks? Cloves?'

'I think so,' said Alice vaguely. She had just spotted Antonia Callender on the other side of the shop, with her mother. It would be so cool if she could just walk past with Piers, and kind of nod to Antonia. She tossed back her hair nonchalantly and risked a friendly smile at Piers. Antonia might even think Piers was her boyfriend.

'I think the spices might be that way,' she said, pointing to the other side of the shop.

'OK then.'

As they approached Antonia, Alice could feel her cheeks becoming pinker. She clenched her hand in her pocket and squeezed the lining material tighter. Any minute now, Antonia would see them and ...

'Hi, Alice!' Antonia's voice rang across the aisle. Alice waited for a second, then casually looked up at Antonia's eager face. Antonia's gaze s.h.i.+fted to Piers, and then back to Alice. Her eyes were bright. Alice gave her a blank look, almost as though she didn't recognize her. Then a bit of a smile.

'Hi, Antonia,' she said shortly. Antonia looked at Piers again and blushed.

'Oh, h.e.l.lo, Alice.' It was Antonia's mother, coming over from the frozen fish counter, looking disapprovingly at Piers. 'Doing some shopping for Mummy?'

'No, actually, we're buying some stuff for mulled wine.' Piers's voice resounded through the shop, confident and arresting. 'Is it cinnamon we want? And cloves?'

'Well, it depends.' Antonia's mother looked at Alice again. 'The way I usually do it is to stick some cloves into oranges. And add brown sugar and water.'

'That's right,' exclaimed Piers. 'I remember now. And lots of brandy.'

'Well,' said Antonia's mother. 'It depends how strong you want it. It depends who's going to be drinking it.' She looked meaningfully at Alice. Antonia s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

'Oh, I think we want it as strong as possible,' said Piers cheerfully. 'Don't you, Alice?'

'Oh yes,' said Alice joyfully. She grinned at him and forced herself not even to look at Antonia. 'Had we better go?' she added bravely.

'Yes, we'd better crack on.' Piers smiled charmingly at Antonia and her mother. 'So nice to meet you,' he said. 'And thank you for the cookery tips.' His voice held just the faintest tinge of mockery, and as they walked away, Alice could hear Antonia wailing at her mother, 'Mummy, why did you have to say say that?' that?'

'Friend of yours?' Piers asked, as they rounded the corner.

'Enemy,' said Alice succinctly.

'Thought so,' said Piers. They grinned at each other; collaborators' grins, and Alice felt a sudden pull of yearning in her stomach. She looked at Piers, and felt herself growing hot. Somewhere, dim and distant in the back of her mind, resided permanently the silhouetted image of a couple kissing each other pa.s.sionately. The girl was Alice; the man had always been faceless. But now, in spite of herself, she could see the face of the man. And it was Piers.

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When they got back, Ginny and Duncan were sitting on the floor, playing Scrabble. Ginny's head shot up as they entered.

'How was it?'

'What, the supermarket?'

'The meeting! Summer Street! Summer Street!'

'Christ, yes. I'd almost forgotten about it.' Piers grinned and began to shrug off his Barbour.

Ginny sat perfectly still and waited. She mustn't say anything; mustn't start hectoring him. But a throbbing feeling, somewhere between excitement and dread, was nearly driving her mad. It couldn't be bad news, surely. Not with Piers looking so cheerful. Now he was going out to hang his Barbour on the banisters, and she nearly squeaked with annoyance. Why couldn't he chuck it onto a chair like he usually did?

'It went really well.'

'What?' Her head jerked up.

'I think he likes me. He said, get this, "We know you can act." '

'He said that to you?' Ginny's eyes lit up. 'Alan Tinker?'

'It was practically the first thing he said.'

'And what did you say?'

'I can't remember. I think I just sort of nodded.'

Ginny drew her knees up, and hugged them tight, trying to quell her pounding exhilaration. We know you can act We know you can act. Her mind lingered lovingly on the phrase for a few moments, then firmly put it away in the back of her mind, to be brought out and savoured in the future.

'And then what happened?'

'Then he said he'd fix up an audition after Christmas, and that the most important thing is being able to get on with the rest of the cast.'

'What?' Duncan looked up. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Oh, you know. The usual b.o.l.l.o.c.ks. Team work and stuff. I guess they don't want some prima donna.'