In Art.
‘So,’ I say. We’re on the floor, our clothes still in disarray. ‘How did I get on in the performance review?’
I can’t believe I’m making jokes about performance after sexwith someone I’ve only known properly for a fortnight. Usually I would never, in a million years, have risked saying something like this to someone unless I’d been properly going out with them for, like, at least eight months. Just in case they thought,Hmmm, actually, it wasn’tthatgreat – maybe we should call things off. I suppose it’s because I obviously don’t care about what Art thinks of me. I think of relationships that fell apart in the past because I was so worried about messing them up. Maybe this is the good thing about fooling around with someone you don’t want to have a relationship with. You can’t mess everything up if there’s nothing to mess.
‘Incredibly well,’ says Art. He kisses me. ‘But you know, if you’re not too tired I think I could help you hit another peak target of your own today. Just one peak a day doesn’t feel like enough. I don’t know where I’m going with this metaphor, I didn’t do business studies in school.Anyway…’ He kisses me again and suddenly I’m not tired at all. ‘What do you say?’
I say yes.
Art’s just started doing something very effective when the doorknob rattles. We both freeze.
‘It’s locked,’ says a voice. It takes a second before I recognise it. It’s Bernard’s assistant Gina.
‘Andwhyis it locked?’ says a voice I recognise immediately.
Bernard.
‘I don’t know,’ says Gina patiently. ‘There was a memo last week about people taking home printer paper, maybe management have locked it. Or maybe there’s a meeting on.’ She knocks on the door and raises her voice. ‘Hello? Is someone in there?’
I think I might be holding my breath. I look at Art, my eyes wide. Neither of us says a word.
Gina knocks again.
‘There’s no one in there, it’s fine,’ says Bernard. ‘This corridor’s private enough. I wanted to make sure you’d talked to Doctor Comerford again.’
‘I have,’ says Gina.
‘And?’ says Bernard impatiently. ‘Is everything all right? I know it was short notice but we have to take advantage of what’s going on here. We have to show Triona Clancy what she’s messing with.’
‘It’s all confirmed,’ says Gina. ‘But … are you sure about this, Bernard?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, these are the anniversary episodes we’re talking about.’ Gina’s voice is sounding a little strained now. ‘I mean, is it worth—?’
‘Gina.’ Bernard’s voice is like steel. ‘We’ve talked about this. They’re all against me. Triona Clancy is trying to push me to take early retirement.’
‘Notthatearly—’
‘Too early!’ snaps Bernard. ‘I’m only sixty-two! Well, she’s going to see just how much this show needs me. They’ll all see what a mistake this ridiculous new regime is. This “writer’s room”. Do they think a bunch of overpaid hacks are going to know what’s best for their scripts?Iknow what’s best for their scripts!’
‘Of course you do,’ says Gina.
‘And a two-month hiatus every summer?’ says Bernard. ‘To dowhat? Who needs two months off work?’ His voice rises. ‘I’ve given my life toNorthsidefor twelve bloody years! Mylife!’ His voice cracks and I remember what Simon said about his marriages ending. About him not being invited to his son’s wedding. If he weren’t so horrible I might even feel sorry for him. ‘Andthisishow they repay me? By taking my show away from me? Well, fuck them.’
‘But Bernard …’ says Gina. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about this.’
‘Oh, really?’ Bernard’s tone is pure acid. ‘Go on.’
‘Everything with those new writers,’ says Gina. ‘Are you sure that’s all necessary?’
Art looks at me again, his eyes now as wide as mine. My heart is starting to race.
‘Thosenew writers,’ says Bernard, ‘are what’s not necessary. I thought I’d made that clear.’
‘Yes, of course, but what you’re doing—’
‘Whatwe’redoing,’ says Bernard.