‘You’re right,’ I admit. ‘But I still don’t trust him.’
‘Neither do I,’ says Art. ‘I don’t think he’s a saboteur, but he’s still a prick.’
‘So I suppose we just … remain vigilant,’ I say.
Art looks like he might laugh but he says, very seriously, ‘Vigilance will be our watchword.’
Unsurprisingly, the revelation that Bernard is even more unhinged than I thought doesn’t make me feel less antsy. It’s starting to feel like nothing can do that. I wish I were into exercise, any form of exercise, because maybe going for a run or to the gym might work off some of this restless energy, but I hate doing both those things so I put my head down and try my best to write my script. I’m aiming to get some sort of second draft finished by the end of the day so I can spend tomorrow morning giving it one last polish before I send it to Susan. This episode has to be good. No, it has to be great. It has to be good enough for theNorthsideanniversary. This might be the most important script I’ve ever written. And I’m determined to stay in the office until I’ve got this draft done.
Art’s clearly feeling the same way – though, being Art, he’s constantly moving between different spots around the room. At lunchtime I stand up and see him lying on the floor, his head and shoulders propped against the wall, his laptop on his chest.
‘Comfortable down there, Mr Ó Súilleabháin?’ I say.
‘Perfectly,’ he says, without looking up from his screen.
I hope he’s got a good physio. But I’m not going to scold him about his posture now. What happens to his body is absolutely none of my business.
We get takeaway sandwiches and eat them at our desks without talking. For the rest of the afternoon we both keep our heads down and work. And work. I don’t think I’ve ever worked so intensely on any script in my life. And as the hours go by I realiseit’s actually coming together, this second draft. At around nine o’clock – sooner than I expected, to be honest – I reach the end of a scene and realise I’ve done it.
I’ve written a second draft. I want to sleep on it and go through it tomorrow, but it’s good and it’s done.
I stare at my laptop screen for a moment, feeling strangely emotional. Then I take my headphones off just as Art closes his laptop with a smack.
‘Are you okay?’ I say. But when I turn around he’s almost smiling.
‘I’m grand,’ he says. ‘I’ve finished my draft.’
‘Oh right,’ I say. ‘Me too.’
For a moment we look at each other in silence. It feels weirdly anticlimactic. We should be celebrating, shouldn’t we? We did it! We met our deadline under incredibly stressful circumstances!
There’s a knock on our office door and my first reaction is stomach-churning fear that something new has gone wrong. But when Art calls ‘Come in’, the door opens and there’s Nora.
‘How are you holding up?’ she says.
‘Good, I think!’ I say. ‘We’ve both just got the second drafts finished.’
‘Excellent,’ says Nora. ‘Same here. How do you feel about going for a celebratory pint and some food with me and Simon and Sorcha – have you met Sorcha?’
‘Not properly.’ I remember her from the meetings, though, a dark-haired woman in her forties. I don’t think she laughed at any of Bernard’s digs at me and Art. Or did she? I’m on the verge of overthinking this invitation.
‘We’re going down to the Cat and Cage in Drumcondra,’ says Nora. ‘Fancy joining us?’
I hesitate. My head’s wrecked with tiredness and Art weirdness and possible sabotage.
‘I’m up for it.’ Art looks at me. ‘Annie?’
Fuck it, I was just thinking I wanted to celebrate. Also, I’ve realised how starving I am.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Great!’ says Nora. ‘I’ll see you down in the lobby.’
Art packs up his things and follows her out the door. But he turns back at the doorway.
‘Keep your enemies closer, McDermott,’ he says in a stage whisper. And winks.
Half an hour later, we’re sitting in the pub drinking pints and eating pizza. Sorcha seems lovely, not least because her whole family are fans ofOur Toon(‘My kids were so impressed when they heard I’m working with the woman who killed Tony Barton!’) and I wish I could relax but I’m wondering if that will ever be possible for me again. I want to be funny and charming and friendly (but not too friendly, not, like,weirdlyfriendly). I want Simon and Nora and Sorcha tolikeme.