‘Is this because you don’t wantNorthsideto show up in your IMDb credits?’ I say.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ says Art, too quickly.
‘So you’ve suddenly developed a love for the Irish language,’ I say. ‘Is that it?’ I hear the accusatory tone in my voice and pull myself together. ‘Sorry. Ignore me. It’s none of my business what you call yourself.’
Which is true. So why is it getting to me so much?
Art almost looks uncomfortable, but not quite. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘writing for this show is … it’s very different to my previous stuff. It makes sense to use another name. You know, like how authors use different names to write books in different genres.’
‘You’ve written for different types of TV shows before,’ I say. ‘LA Medicwasn’t exactly the same asSlow News Day. Did you use Ó Súilleabháin for that?’
‘No, but that’s not the same,’ says Art. ‘First of all, it wouldn’t exactly trip off the tongue in America.’
‘You could have used another pseudonym.’ I can’t let this go.
‘Those were all Hollywood shows,’ says Art. ‘Big shows, with serious money behind them. Serious shows. EvenLA Medic.’
‘And what’s this?’ I say. ‘If it isn’t a serious show?’
‘This is …’ he says. ‘Well, you know. It’s Irish television. It’s … it’sNorthside!’
And that’s when I realise why his use of a nom de plume is bothering me so much. I know it’s ridiculous but I feel … hurt. Hurt by the fact that what had long been my dream job is so incredibly embarrassing to him. More embarrassing than writing for a medical drama in which a character once had to perform brain surgery in the presence of his dead wife’s ghost. So embarrassing he’s made an effort to ensure he can never be publicly associated with it. So embarrassing he’s basically hiding it from the rest of the world.
‘Yes,’ I say, as briskly as I can manage. Which isn’t very brisk. ‘It sure is.’
‘Look,’ says Art, ‘it’s not a big deal.’
‘Not to you, clearly,’ I say. ‘You’ve onlychanged your name.’
‘I haven’t changed my name! I’m just using the Irish version of it for a job.’ Art sighs. ‘I can’t believe I’m arguing about this. I don’t know why you’re taking it so personally.’
‘Who says I’m taking it personally?’ I say.
‘Your face, for one—’ begins Art. I immediately remember the last time he talked about my face and I suspect he might remember it too because he stops himself and says, ‘I mean, you look pissed off.’
‘I’m not.’ Which is true. I’m insulted. I’m upset. I’m embarrassed about feeling both of those things. But I’m not angry. Not really.
‘You know, I really think you’d find this job easier if you just accepted it’s like a factory,’ says Art.
This again. Okay,nowI’m a bit angry.
‘Yeah, I’m quite sure I would,’ I say. ‘I know that’s how you think of it. But unlike some people, I actually respect my work.’
Ugh, I sound so self-righteous. But I can’t help it. I can’t spend five minutes talking to this man without wanting to snarl at him.
At least I think that’s what I want to do to him.
‘Northsideisn’t at its peak now,’ I say. ‘I won’t pretend it is. But it’s been great before and it could be great again. It really could. And the fact that this has never evencrossed your mind—’ To my horror I feel angry tears spring to my eyes. Okay. Okay, this is going too far. I need to drop it. ‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘I’m going to get some lunch.’
And before he can say anything else, I pick up my bag and walk out.
After I come back from the canteen Art and I barely speak for the rest of the day. And my mood isn’t helped by my awareness thatBernard might appear in the office at any minute and accuse me of causing Ritchie’s injury.
But I pull myself together when I get home. Right now the focus has to be on Roo as she gets ready for her first post-Justin date – although there’s not a huge difference between her date clothes and her work attire. She calls me up to her room where I find her adjusting the neckline of a black lace seventies maxi dress.
‘Is this too much for a first date?’ She turns to face me. ‘I thinkallmy clothes might be too much for a first date.’
‘They’re not too much,’ I say firmly. ‘They’re pureyou. And you are brilliant.’