There were parts of working in TV I loved, but doing six people’s jobs at once was not one of them.
I reapplied some powder to Ruthie’s already completely matte face – for a woman in her forties, she had great skin, probably due to the two hundred pound a pop ‘vampire facials’ she was always banging on about. Mind you, she was also always going on about how perfect my skin was, with the sense being that she was slightly annoyed about it.I’ll be thirty next year, it’ll go downhill then, I always said to make her feel better, but secretly I hoped it wouldn’t. My dad still look much younger than fifty-two, and his sisters – my aunties, who were in St Lucia – all had the most amazing smooth, brown, glowing skin with barely any wrinkles. Then again, they did have tropical fruits on tap, lots of fresh air and year-round good weather – I wasn’t sure London pollution levels were conducive to ageing quite that well.
‘Need any help?’ I asked Lou, who was looking back at the footage she’d just shot.
‘Sure. What do you think of this?’ she asked, moving aside so that I could see the monitor.
Lou was a brilliant camera operator and she’d framed the shot beautifully, making Loch Lomond look all enticing and gorgeous, and managing to make the sky look wispy and ethereal. If I squinted, I could almost be in Vietnam, not Scotland.
‘Lovely,’ I said. ‘You’ve even got sparkles on the water.’
‘Have I?’ she said. ‘Let’s see.’
‘What’s going on here, ladies?’ asked Tim, appearing behind me. ‘I think I should be the one checking the footage, don’t you?’
‘Go for it,’ I said, stepping aside and giving him a tight smile.
I had another little nose at the diving group while Tim was otherwise engaged. They were all kitted out now and the instructor had the tanks out. Wetsuit guy had his back to me, but I could spot him easily – he was several inches taller than everyone else for a start. He had his hands on his hips and was listening intently to the instructions being given.
‘It’s not grabbing me,’ said Tim, crossing his arms and pouting in the style of a teenager having a tantrum. ‘This place is deathly boring and it shows on camera. I mean, there’s no one around, is there? No atmosphere and no sun. How come everyone else gets to go to the Canary Islands and I get stuck here? How the fuck am I supposed to make this bleak, miserable landscape look in any way exciting?’
‘It’s not bleak and miserable,’ I protested.
‘It is,’ moaned Ruthie.
‘It’s so peaceful, though,’ said Lou. ‘And just smell that air – no car fumes, just oxygen with a hint of heather. I reckon our viewers would love it here.’
‘But there’s nothing to do!’ complained Tim. ‘We need to demonstrate that there’s more to Scotland than lakeside walks and whisky.’
‘I don’t see what’s wrong with either of those two things,’ I said.
Tim instantly threw me daggers.
‘There’s tons of other stuff to do,’ I carried on, determined to get my point across. ‘Glasgow’s only a half-hour drive away, we could go and shoot some footage there, maybe, if we can fit it in on our last day. Or what about …’ I desperately searched around for inspiration. There had to be something that would help Tim see Loch Lomond in a more positive light. ‘Water sports!’ I blurted out, catching Wetsuit Guy’s eye again.
He was looking over his shoulder at me with a sort of bemused look on his face, probably wondering why there were loads of loud people with English accents causing a commotion on the beach. I thought he was probably Scottish – he had that sort of tall, rugged stature, a kind ofBraveheartvibe. And I wasn’t really in to men in kilts, but he looked like somebody who, if he had to wear one, could probably pull it off.
Right, I needed to stop daydreaming about Wetsuit Guy in a kilt and get back on task.
‘Look!’ I said to Tim, hoping to drum up some enthusiasm. ‘There’s some diving or something going on over there. And I saw a sign about kayaking trips. And then at the hotel they’ve got leaflets about paddleboarding. We could make it very visual, get Ruthie out on the lake doing waterskiing or something.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Ruthie, looking repulsed.
On second thoughts, I couldn’t imagine Ruthie doing anything that would involve getting a speck of water on her bouffant, dyed-blonde hair which never seemed to move, no matter the weather.
‘It could work …’ said Tim, desperately trying not to look impressed.
On the odd occasion he gave me credit for something, I could tell it pained him.
He clicked his fingers, making sure he had everyone’s full attention. ‘Guys, I’ve had a great idea for this afternoon. Instead of yet more boring beach shots, we are going to get out on the water to do some … activities.’
He’dhad a brilliant idea?
Lou raised her eyebrows at me.
‘No way,’ said Ruthie. ‘I’m not doing it. Water sports are not in my contract.’
‘Oh come on, Ruthie,’ trilled Tim, doing his best impression of being a nice person. ‘Don’t be like that. We can make this work, together, as a team. We’ll be right there with you, supporting you, making sure you look and sound as fabulous as ever.’