‘Well, yeah,’ says Art. ‘I have directed before, you know.’
‘I know!’ I said. ‘I just … I never thought you’d be directingNorthside.’
The plan is to shoot late on Friday afternoon, the last shots of the week. Because Ma Cusack’s scenes are monologues, she won’t need any other actors to do a run-through – she can just walk straight on set and shoot the scenes as quickly as possible. If the worst happens and we’re forbidden to air the Ma Cusack scenes, we’ll at least have the official scenes as a backup. There’s going to be an anniversary episode one way or another.
But the scale of the task facing us is daunting. We have to get the official scenes finished by Monday, as planned, and then write Honoria’s scenes by Thursday morning to make sure she has time to learn her lines (‘Though we can use an autocue if we really have to,’ says Des). And those lines have to be good. They have to be better than good. They have to be worthy of Ma Cusack.
‘Where do you want to work now?’ says Art, as he turns the car in the direction of town. ‘Should we go to the office?’
‘We could,’ I say. ‘But … we’ll have to talk about the new top-secret scenes. Obviously.’
‘Well, yeah, talking would make the job a lot easier,’ says Art.
‘And there’ll definitely be people around the office this weekend,’ I continue. ‘What if they overhear us? I know the room is soundproof but what if—?’
‘Don’t say “what if they’ve bugged us”,’ says Art. ‘Even Bernard wouldn’t go that far. I think. But yeah, I don’t think we’d be particularly relaxed in there.’
‘I’m never relaxed anywhere,’ I say.
‘I’m starting to believe that,’ says Art. ‘Well, we could go to my place but it’s not ideal unless you fancy talking to my mother and her book club for an hour. They’re meeting there right now and they do like to chat. The bridge club was there for drinks last night.’ He sighs. ‘I love my mum but living there can be … challenging.’
‘We can go to my house,’ I say. ‘Roo and her friends will be there but they won’t insist on chatting to us for hours.’
‘That,’ says Art, ‘sounds perfect.’
I can hear laughter coming from inside as we walk into the hall. Somehow it’s only now it really hits me that Art and I will have to work in the small, confined space of my bedroom. I try to remember if there’s anything embarrassing lying around. Although why should I be embarrassed about anything in front of a man who flung my knickers across the sitting room last week?
‘Annie?’ says Roo from the kitchen.
‘I’ve brought Art back,’ I call.
‘Well, bring him in,’ says Roo. I look apologetically at Art but he seems completely unfazed as he follows me in to the kitchen, where Roo, Francesca and Nadia are sitting around the table.I’ve only met Francesca and Nadia on nights out or, last week, when Francesca was on duty, and I’m relieved to see they’re less intimidatingly glossy in their Saturday-afternoon casual wear. But only slightly.
Roo makes introductions and asks Art if he’d like a coffee.
‘I’d love one, thanks,’ he says. He points at the embroidered panels lying on the table. ‘Hey, those are cool. Did you make them?’
As Roo puts the kettle on and I start spooning coffee into the cafetière, Francesca explains the concept of sashiko to Art, who sounds genuinely interested in Japanese embroidery. He asks Francesca and Nadia how they know Roo and about their work in PR and they’re so obviously taken with him that Nadia, the coolest, most aloof girl I’ve ever met, literally giggles at one point.
Jesus, the Sullivan charm is ridiculously effective. Not that I’d ever tell him that, even under pain of death.
I almost feel like I’m interrupting their cosy little gathering when I hand Art his coffee. He smiles at me as he accepts it. ‘Thank you, McDermott. I suppose we’d better start working on that script.’
‘Sure you don’t want an embroidery lesson?’ Nadia looks up at him beneath her impossibly long eyelashes. God, is she flirting with him? She is, isn’t she?
‘Annie and I have lots of important work to do,’ says Art. ‘But I appreciate the offer!’ He raises a hand in farewell as we leave the room.
‘Everything all right?’ he says, following me down the hall towards my room.
‘Yeah, of course,’ I say. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘You didn’t say much in there,’ he says, as I open the door.
I shrug. ‘Roo met Francesca and Nadia after I moved to London. I don’t know them that well.’
My room looks smaller than ever once Art is standing in it. The childhood photo of me and Laura is on the desk, next to a photo of me and Roo at seventeen, both of us looking stonily into the camera. My hair is dead straight and I’m wearing black muslin and a necklace in the shape of antlers.
Art picks up the photo and gives me a meaningful look.