Take Two

CHAPTER 10

There were a dozen photographers huddled around the gate at the entrance to the grounds of the country house hotel and flashes went off as the Mercedes drove by. ‘Why do they bother?’ asked Harrington.

‘Because they might get lucky and catch an actor smoking a joint or picking their nose,’ said Carolyn.

‘That bad?’

‘Worse than that, Jake. A thousand times worse. What they want is a reaction. Sometimes they’ll shout out the most obscene stuff, just to get a reaction. That’s why every now and then someone will snap and take a swing at them.’

‘You haven’t though?’

‘You can’t because the picture of you screaming at them is the one that’ll be on all the front pages. You just have to grin and bear it.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Besides, if there’s one thing worse than being pursued by the paparazzi, it’s being ignored by them.’

The Mercedes pulled up in front of the hotel. The driver got out and hurried around to open the door for Carolyn. As she got out, two pretty girls in short skirts and impossibly high heels tottered over. They both had tight tops with sashes across their chests with SOAP OPERA DIGEST across them. One of them presented her with a small bouquet and they escorted her into the hallway. To the left, a large banner had been set up and to the right was a bald photographer in a black suit who winked at her. ‘Miss Castle,’ he said. ‘Big fan.’

Carolyn took off her coat and gave it to one of the girls, then posed for half a dozen photographs, then waved for Harrington to join her. Standing next to the photographer was a young woman with a clipboard. She smiled at Carolyn and nodded at the dress. ‘Stella McCartney,’ said Carolyn, and the woman scribbled on her clipboard. She looked up again and smiled at Harrington. ‘And who are you?’ she asked.

‘Me? Nobody.’

Carolyn slipped her arm through his. ‘Jake Harrington,’ she said. ‘He’s a fabulous director and we all love working with him.’

‘And your new boyfriend?’

Carolyn laughed. ‘My director,’ she said. She smiled as the photographer took a few more pictures, then led Harrington away from the banner towards the main ballroom.

‘I don’t know how you put up with it,’ said Harrington.

‘With what?’

‘Being photographed all the time. I’d hate it.’

‘That’s funny, you being a director and all,’ said Carolyn. ‘That’s your job, taking pictures of people.’

‘My job is to let actors tell a story,’ said Harrington. ‘The paparazzi are more like peeping toms, sticking their noses where they’re not wanted.’

Carolyn gestured at the banner, where another actress was being photographed. ‘That’s not paparazzi,’ she said. ‘That’s part of the game. You come to somewhere like this and you get photographed and the photographs go out to the papers and the magazines. The magazine sells, my profile is raised and Stella McCartney gets free publicity. Everyone wins.’

‘Well, it would do my head in. I prefer the fact the girl back there didn’t know me from Adam.’

They stopped at the entrance to the ballroom. A large seating plan had been set up on an easel and it was flanked by two pretty blondes. There were twenty-five circular tables each seating sixteen. The tables were identified with the name of the various shows and production companies. The tables closest to the main stage were taken by the BBC, ITV, Channel 4 and Sky. Behind them were the tables of Coronation Street, EastEnders, Doctors, Holby City and the rest of the popular soaps. The Rags To Riches table was off to the right, closest to the kitchen. Carolyn frowned as she studied the seating plan. Hands seized her by the shoulder. ‘How’s my favourite actress?’ asked Paul Day, looming over her.

‘Wondering why all these reality shows are here,’ she said, pointing at a table marked The Only Way Is Essex and another labeled Made In Chelsea. ‘Since when are reality shows classed as drama?’

‘They’ve a new category this year,’ said the producer. ‘Reality and Constructed Factual.’

‘What the hell is Reality and Constructed Factual?’ asked Carolyn.

‘The future of entertainment, darling,’ said Day. ‘You take suntanned bimbos in tight dresses and you give them lines to shout and wine to drink. Costs next to nothing to make and the punters love it.’ He released his grip on her shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s grab our seats.’

Day, Carolyn and Harrington walked into the ballroom. There were huge posters on the walls, blown-up photographs of the shows that had been nominated, and at the back of the room a stage with two podiums and, behind them, a large viewing screen.

Carolyn had to walk by the Coronation Street and EastEnders tables and she had to air-kiss at least a dozen people. She knew most of the actors though there were a few younger cast members she hadn’t met before. Most knew she was being given a lifetime achievement award and wanted to congratulate her. It was the only award that had been announced in advance.

Seb and Andrea were already at the Rags To Riches table, along with Phillippa Lansdale, the director who was due to take over after Harrington’s episodes had wrapped. Carolyn had worked with Phillippa before and liked the woman. She was in her early thirties, anorexically thin and, like Carolyn, a confirmed smoker. She stood up and hugged Carolyn. ‘So we’re working together week after next,’ she said, brushing her dyed blonde hair over one ear.

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ said Carolyn. Day gave Phillippa a bear hug and then sat down, facing the stage. Carolyn sat next to him. Seb was sitting next to a pneumatic blonde model with vacant eyes, one of half a dozen that he used whenever he needed to prove to the world that he was a red-blooded heterosexual male. Carolyn had met her before but couldn’t quite remember her name — Mandy, or Sandy, or Candy or something similar. She had red-painted fingernails that were at least an inch long and lips that had clearly been pumped full of collagen. Andrea was sitting next to her long-time boyfriend, Charlie Russell, a good-looking Scot who managed his family’s multi-million pound trust. He was devoted to Andrea and always had a lop-sided grin on his face when he was around her.

They were joined by three more actors from the show — Fatima Dowling, Mo Julyan and Barry Hinton — as the ballroom began to fill up. Across the room, Carolyn saw the network executives take their places. Day waved over at Sally Westlake, the head of drama, and she blew him a kiss.

‘So where’s Eddie?’ asked Phillippa.

‘It’s not his thing,’ said Carolyn. She didn’t want it generally known that the relationship was in trouble. In fact, in her heart of hearts she hoped he would call her and apologise because the one thing she wanted most in the world just then was to have him back in her life. She missed him. She missed him a lot. And while the pain of his infidelity still burned, she was starting to feel she was partly to blame. She had been working stupidly-long hours for several months and hadn’t spent enough time with him. A waiter appeared and began pouring champagne. ‘Besides, with Eddie here I’d have to watch how much I drink.’ She waved at the waiter and mouthed ‘red wine.’ He nodded.

The head writer on the show, Zach Atkins, arrived in a white jacket and a black Mickey Mouse bow-tie. With him were two more writers — both earnest young men in their late twenties. They sat together next to Phillippa. Carolyn smiled over at Zach and he smiled back, but he looked away quickly and was soon deep in conversation with the director.

The room filled up over the next twenty minutes and then the meal was served. The food was excellent, way above what was normally served at an award ceremony, brought to the table by fit young men who looked as if they had just walked out of a fashion magazine. The starter was baked scallops, the main course was an apple and cranberry stuffed pork roast and the dessert was vanilla cheesecake with Scottish raspberries. There was a vegetarian option but as Carolyn was an enthusiastic meat-eater she didn’t even look at it. It turned out that alcohol had to be paid for but Day made sure plenty of wine ended up on their table.

When the coffee arrived, the lights dimmed and Ricky Gervais and Dawn French walked out to thunderous applause. The next hour was spent with the two presenters bantering back and forth and a succession of actors, writers and directors making their way up to the stage to be presented with a gold statuette. Gold coloured, anyway. Carolyn had two Soap Digest Best Actress awards in her downstairs bathroom and the gold had long worn away even though the cleaner only dusted them twice a week.

The first award was for Sexiest Female, won by a Hollyoaks actress, and a young hunk on Emmerdale won the award for Sexiest Male. Two photographers snapped away while four camera teams moved around the audience, shooting reaction shots. Carolyn, like the rest of the actors, smiled professionally when there was even a chance they would be caught on film.

‘What is he, twelve?” asked Seb, nodding at the Emmerdale actor, who was posing next to Dawn French as the photographers snapped away.

‘He’s fit,’ said Carolyn.

‘He’s a male model, not an actor,’ sneered Seb.

‘You’re just upset because he’s not gay,’ whispered Carolyn.

‘Bitch,’ said Seb.

‘And he didn’t get his award for his acting, he got it for his chiseled good looks and six-pack abs.’

The next award was for Best Scripted Reality Show. Carolyn looked over at Day. ‘What?’

The producer shrugged. ‘It’s the new big thing, darling.’

‘So now we’re doing away with sets and studios? Why don’t we just film in our own homes? They’re not bloody actors, Paul.’

‘You’re preaching to the converted, darling,’ said Day, leaning over to refill her glass.

The comedian read out the list of contenders, adding — ‘These are my favourite shows on TV. Fit birds, am I right?’

The table where The Only Way Is Essex actors were sitting went wild, shouting and cheering. They were followed a few seconds later by whooping from the Made In Chelsea table.

The comedian opened the envelope and expressed mock surprise. ‘I love these guys,’ he said. ‘And I’m not saying that because I’m from Essex. Because I’m not.’

The TOWIE table went crazy and a chair was tipped over as one of the actresses stood up and waved a bottle of champagne over her head.

‘Nice,’ said Carolyn.

Half a dozen girls with orange fake tans and silicon-enhanced breasts tottered onto the stage and made a series of embarrassing speeches, punctuated with loud whoops.

‘Do you think there’s going to be an award for worst tan?’ asked Seb.

‘And most silicon,’ laughed Andrea.

The girls were ushered off the stage, still whooping and yelping like overexcited puppies.

The award for Best Newcomer was next, and it was taken by Mr Sexiest Male. He went back up on stage to rapturous applause and screams from the TOWIE table.

‘So who did he have to sleep with to get two awards?’ scowled Seb.

‘Anybody he wants to. I’m guessing,’ said Phillippa. ‘I’m going to have to start watching Emmerdale more.’

Mr Sexiest Male and Best Newcomer made quite a sweet speech thanking his agent and his mother and everyone there for making him feel so loved.

‘Sweet,’ said Carolyn, and she actually meant it. Like Phillippa, she decided to make more of an effort to watch Emmerdale.

EastEnders picked up the next three awards — Best Comedy performance, Best Villain and Best Storyline, then Coronation Street won the award for Best Single Episode.

‘This isn’t looking good,’ Carolyn said to Harrington.

‘I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Best British Soap,’ he said. ‘And my toes.’

Ricky Gervais announced the contenders for the Best Actress. Andrea was one of the four names and she beamed as a TV crew moved in for a close-up. It was the killer moment at any awards ceremony. If you won, it was important to look surprised and humble. If you lost, it was just as vital to look as if you were thrilled for the winner. The camera was unforgiving and would pick up the slightest hint of jealousy or bitterness, so smiles had to be broad and eyes wide. Andrea sat with her back ramrod straight, her head up and a slight smile on her face as she listened to the comedian announce the winner.

Carolyn’s jaw dropped when she heard him call Andrea’s name. ‘Oh, my God!’ she said. Then she realised a television camera was pointing in her direction so she changed her look of surprise into admiration and started to clap.

The full range of emotions was flashing across Andrea’s face. Surprise. Amazement. Delight. She stood up and allowed Day, Harrington and Seb to embrace her, then she headed for the stage. ‘Did you know she’d won?’ Carolyn asked Day as he sat down again.

The producer shook his head. ‘They played their cards close to their chest.’

‘But you must have put her up for it?’

‘The network did,’ said Day. ‘They didn’t even ask me.’

‘The green-eyed God rearing its ugly head, darling?’ teased Seb.

‘Don’t be silly, Andrea’s a sweetie, and one hell of an actress,’ said Carolyn. She looked over at the network table and saw Sally and Lisa standing as they applauded Andrea on her walk to the stage. Carolyn drained her glass and held it out for Day to refill.

Andrea’s speech was clearly rehearsed and Carolyn wondered if she had known about the award in advance. A TV crew began filming the Rags To Riches table and she smiled supportively and increased her clapping rate.

Best Actor went to Chris Gascoyne of Coronation Street, which Carolyn figured was well-deserved as she’d seen several performances of his that were as good as anything she’d seen on the London stage.

‘What’s he got that I haven’t?’ asked Seb, only half-joking.

‘An award, for a start,’ laughed Carolyn.

‘Seriously,’ said Seb.

‘He’s a good actor, a real pro,’ said Carolyn. She raised her glass to Seb. ‘But he’s nowhere as good-looking or charming as you are, darling.’

Seb grinned and clinked his glass against hers.

The two presenters took it in turns to announce the contenders for Best British Soap — Coronation Street, Doctors, EastEnders, Emmerdale, Hollyoaks and Rags To Riches. They showed clips of each show and Carolyn was pleased to see she was in the Rags To Riches selection, a three-hander with Seb and Andrea.

Dawn French opened a gold envelope, paused theatrically, and announced the winner. EastEnders. Carolyn clapped enthusiastically, as did everyone else on the Rags To Riches table. The camera covering their table was pointed at Seb and Andrea and they both did a great job of portraying rapt enthusiasm.

The EastEnders cast made their way up to the stage, flanked by the producers and two of the directors. Sixteen people in all. One of the producers accepted the award and made a short speech. Carolyn couldn’t help but notice one group he didn’t thank was the poor licence payer who funded their extravagant salaries. It always seemed unfair to her that the BBC should pay for a soap opera because they were never constrained by the same budget restraints as the independently-produced shows.

Carolyn looked over at Day and saw the look of disappointment on his face. Unlike the actors, Day wasn’t great at hiding his true feelings. He caught her looking at him and he forced a smile. ‘There’s always next year,’ he said.

‘We’re the better show, no doubt about that,’ said Carolyn. She looked at her watch. It was ten o’clock and the ceremony was supposed to be over by ten-thirty. She couldn’t help thinking about Eddie and wondering what he was doing. She had so wanted him to be there with her. Her bag was at her feet and she wanted to take out her phone and check to see if he’d called, but she knew she would be wasting her time. She felt tears prick her eyes and she blinked them away, then realised that everyone at the table was looking at her and that Rick Gervais was talking about her. She smiled and nodded and sat bolt upright as the comedian poured praise on her and introduced a two-minute clip of some of her most memorable moments on television — her appearances on Spooks, New Tricks, her spell on Dancing With The Stars, the first time she appeared on Rags To Riches. When it finished there was a roar of approval and everyone got to their feet and applauded. The cheers and claps echoed around the ballroom as Carolyn walked up and onto the stage.

The comedian handed her the award and kissed her on both cheeks, then Dawn French came over and gave her a hug. ‘I’m a huge fan, have been for ever,’ she said, which was nice whether or not it was true.

The two presenters moved back to their podiums, leaving the stage to Carolyn. She cradled the statuette and looked out over the audience. ‘This is such an amazing honour,’ she said. ‘And such a lovely surprise. I have to say I hadn’t expected to get a lifetime’s achievement so early in my career, but this is one gift horse I won’t be looking in the mouth.’ A ripple of laughter went around the room and she waited for it to subside. ‘I’m so grateful for Soap Digest magazine, and for its readers.’ She looked over at the table where the magazine executives were sitting and flashed them a grateful smile. ‘It makes it all the more meaningful knowing this award comes from the fans. Because without the fans, there’d be no point at all.’ The audience started clapping and she nodded enthusiastically until it died down. She gazed at the statuette with affection, and allowed her lower lip to tremble, just a bit. Truth be told, it was just one of more than a dozen awards she’d won over the years and they were all on a shelf in the guest bathroom on the ground floor of her house. But it was important to show humility, so she made a show of composing herself. ‘I have so many people to thank,’ she said. ‘Although it’s the actors that the fans see, we’re only the tip of the iceberg and the true creativity takes place on the other side of the camera.’ More applause, and she smiled as she waited for it to die down. Timing was everything when it came to delivering a speech. Timing and lots of eye contact with the audience.

She turned to look at the table where the network executives were sitting and she raised the statuette to them. ‘First, the network, who have been behind the show from Day One. It’s great to have such a supportive team behind us, so thank you from the bottom of my heart to Sally, Lisa, Nick, Francesca, Karen and Martin. I love you all.’ More applause. Actually she didn’t love them at all, they were a talentless bunch of bean-counters who cared nothing about the quality of the show and she would quite happily have nothing to do with any of them ever again, given the choice. But, unfortunately, the network executives had the money and the power, so she had no other choice than to bow down before them. They applauded her and she just hoped her smile didn’t look as fake as theirs.

When the applause had subsided, she looked over at the Rags To Riches table. She caught Harrington’s eye and he winked at her. She blew him a kiss. ‘I want to thank Paul Day, of course, for creating and producing such a wonderful show. And all the great directors who have worked on the show over the years. That’s Jake, and Phillippa, and Raj. And Frank, who has been DP on the show since I started. The crew is more like a family to me than anything. Heaven knows, I spend more time with them than I do with my own relatives.’

More laughter, though this time with a harder edge because most of the men and women in the room knew the long hours they worked were no laughing matter. The divorce rate in the television industry was beaten only by that of doctors and police officers.

‘But, seriously,’ said Carolyn, lowering her voice and speaking slowly and clearly. ‘There are two people I have to thank from the bottom of my heart, two people without whom I would never have had the success that I have been so fortunate to enjoy.’ She waited a couple of beats until she had everyone in the room hanging on her words. ‘My mum and dad, God bless them. I know they would be so proud if they were here today but, sadly, that’s not to be.’ She swallowed, and smiled bravely as she held the statuette up towards the ceiling. ‘This is for you mum and dad. I love you and miss you so much.’ Right on cue a single tear rolled down her cheek. She moved her head slightly, knowing it would glisten under the lights. The audience erupted with applause and one by one they got to their feet and stood clapping and cheering for a full minute. They were still clapping as she left the stage and went back to her table, stopping to exchange air kisses with half a dozen well-wishers on the way.

Carolyn waved the statuette in the air for a final time as she went to sit down next to Harrington. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Cry on command.’

She grinned and waggled the statuette at him. ‘A lifetime of experience, darling,’ she said.

Paul Day poured more red wine in her glass. ‘That was one hell of a performance, Carolyn,’ he said.

‘Don’t tell me, you want me to do it again for my close-up,’ she said. She picked up her glass and clinked it against his.

‘Seriously, you had them in the palm of your hand,’ said Harrington. ‘Have you done any theatre work?’

‘Panto,’ interrupted Day. ‘She’s plays a mean wicked stepmother.’

‘Oh, no, I don’t!’ said Carolyn.

‘Oh, yes, you do!’ chorused Day and Harrington. All three burst into laughter. Day waved at a passing waiter and pointed at the bottle of red wine. ‘One more,’ he mouthed and the waiter hurried off.

‘I’m not just saying this, Carolyn, but you really do have a stage presence. I know how good you work a camera, but that’s the first time I’ve seen you up on a stage and, really, there’s magic there. Every single person here was totally focused on you.’

Carolyn smiled and stroked his cheek. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she said.

‘Trust me, I don’t. You should talk to your agent, get him to get you some stage work.’

Carolyn shook her head. ‘The theatre doesn’t pay, you know that. Not unless you’re in a West End hit and even then it’s got to be Shrek or Les Mis.’

‘You could play Shrek, darling,’ said Day.

‘And you’d make a great donkey,’ said Carolyn.

The MC was bringing the show to a close, thanking the sponsors one by one. Once he’d finished, there was more applause, then the doors behind them were opened. Carolyn felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look up at Martin Waites. Waites was in his late twenties but looked as if he was barely out of his teens, with gelled blonde hair and a girl’s cheekbones. He was wearing a black Armani suit and a grey shirt, buttoned up and tie-less. ‘You were fantastic, Carolyn,’ he said. ‘And never was an honour more well-deserved.’ He flashed her a beaming smile and she caught his eyes flicking down to her cleavage and back to her face.

‘Why thank you, kind sir,’ she said.

‘And I can tell you that everyone at our table was chuffed to bits that you mentioned us all by name. That was a nice touch.’

‘I meant what I said. The show would be nothing without the network.’

‘I wish everyone on the show felt the same,’ said Waites. He smiled at Day. ‘There are those who think we’re the enemy.’

‘We have different expectations of what a show should be,’ said Day, rising to the bait. ‘We want to make the best show we can, you want to sell as much advertising as you can with the minimum up-front expenditure.’

‘Paul, you know full well your budget is way above that of EastEnders, Corrie, even Holby. They look at your location budget and salivate.’

‘And the money we spend shows on the screen,’ said Day. ‘That’s why we get the viewers. Because we have a quality product.’

‘And the best stars,’ said Waites. He’d moved to stand behind Carolyn and he reached down and began massaging Carolyn’s shoulders. ‘We wiped the floor tonight. That demonstrated how much the fans love the show.’ He patted Carolyn’s arms. ‘Now a Bafta or two, that would be nice.’

Carolyn looked up at him. She wanted to ask him to stop touching her shoulders but she didn’t want to sound over-sensitive. He looked down at her and winked. She smiled tightly.

Day waved at an empty seat. ‘Sit yourself down, Martin. You need to spend some time with the troops.’

Waites laughed and sat down between Andrea’s boyfriend and Phillippa. Carolyn smiled at Day and he winked at her. She realised he’d noticed her discomfort and done something about it. She raised her glass and mouthed ‘thank you’.