him. ‘What’s the grand plan?’ I’m hoping the ‘grand’ will subliminally massage his enormous ego.
‘Aw, dunno, Lulu,’ he says, suddenly coming over a little Mockney. There’s a new Guy Ritchie film out this week, I’m sure it’s no coincidence. ‘I want it to be bold and brash, you know?’ Tarquin’s the master of meaningless hyperbole. ‘Kind of like Star Wars.’
Star Wars?! What possible relationship can there be between Star Wars and our bonnets-on-a-budget extravaganza?
‘I see,’ I say uncomprehendingly, nodding sagely to play for time.
‘Yeah, like utterly surprising.’ He’s thrashing his arms around for emphasis. ‘There’s so much underlying conflict – rich and poor, men and women. It’s a battle as well as a ball! It should be visually mesmerizing, Lulu.’
‘I’m sure it will be.’
‘I guarantee it, my old china.’ My old china?! ‘It’s good to kick it around with you, get some juice into it. I’ve always said you’re the brains on this shoot. I was telling Suzanne that only this week.’
He’s such a bullshit artist. But who am I to talk, casting him looks of heartfelt admiration as he spouts his faux auteur nonsense? A flash of fear strikes me as I consider whether or not my choice of career means a compulsory pact with the devil. Leave your soul at the door, do not pass go. Ali flashes into my mind momentarily, a man who’s utterly confident in the fact he’s doing good. Perhaps he’ll be the saint with the clipboard turning me away from Peter’s Pearly Gates when the time comes.
Either way, I’m glad Tarquin’s perked up, and all Emily requires is a bit of reassurance that she’s going to be the hottest bitch at the ball.
‘I just know what colours suit me, you know?’ she says, head winsomely tilted to one side. ‘Aquamarine brings out my eyes like you wouldn’t believe.’
I don’t have the heart to tell her she’ll be dressed in magenta.
‘The thing is, Emily, you’ve got such a versatile look that you can carry off a huge range of shades. It’s very rare, in fact.’
‘Really?’ she says. ‘Thank you, darling! You always make me feel you’ve got my back. I don’t care what anyone says, you’re brilliant.’
What does everyone say? Does the whole crew hate me? Do even my own team think I’m a rank amateur? I pull myself together: if I stay here much longer I’m going to get as self-centred as Emily. I need the normality of home; the steady rhythm of my relationship with Alice, forged a million miles away from the maddening hall of mirrors that is the television industry. I head back to the car. Even so, I can’t help but look back, wondering if Charles will suddenly appear from nowhere. A part of me longs to see him – to glean more of where he’s at and undo the awkwardness of earlier – but the wiser part of me knows it’s the last thing I need.
The traffic’s Friday-night terrible and it’s gone nine by the time I get back. I thought Alice would be out with Richard, but she’s hunched over her laptop in her tracksuit bottoms.
‘I have to pick a night,’ she says disconsolately. ‘He’s got someone else covering for him tomorrow so he said he’d have to work tonight.’
‘Are you OK about him meeting Dad so soon? It’s only been a few weeks…’
‘I know, but Dad only pitches up once in a blue moon. I really think me and Richard have got something, and if I don’t introduce them this time it’ll be forever.’
‘Mm,’ I say non-committally, worried she’s going to terrify the hell out of him. But maybe I’m behaving like some self-hating misogynist, assuming that all men need to be subtly lured into the forest of commitment with a trail of emotional breadcrumbs. After all, he’s agreed to come. Surely that’s a good sign?
‘I’m so glad you’re back!’ says Alice, enthusiastically sploshing about half a bottle of wine into a glass for me. ‘I’m actually surfing Facebook on a Friday night. You know how it is when you get a boyfriend, you completely forget how you entertained yourself when you were single.’
‘Er, being Jenna’s wing-woman on some misjudged bar crawl? Snogging classroom assistants in that pound-a-pint pub in Mare Street?’
‘Yeah, that’s about the size of it. God, why are we never single at the same time? Pl-e-e-e-a-se give Ali another once over.’
‘What, so we can go on double dates? They’ll probably have to take place in the exercise yard at Holloway, you realize.’
‘No,’ says