Don’t glower at him, Annie. Don’t snap. This is your boss. This is the legend who shook upNorthside.
‘I’m Annie McDermott and I’m from Drumcondra,’ I say loudly. Too loud? Dial it down a bit. ‘Just down the road, hahaha!’ Oh God, that laugh sounded a bit manic. ‘I started in TV production in London and later I worked in the story rooms of a couple of programmes.’ I name them; everyone in the room apart from Susan and a short round-faced man wearing a fluffy cardigan looks resolutely bored. ‘I moved into writing scripts, and for the last few years I’ve been in Newcastle working onOur Toon. Actually,’ I add with a smile, ‘I murdered Tony Barton.’
If I was expecting anyone to be impressed by this, I’m sorely mistaken.
‘Is that it?’ says Bernard.
‘Um, yes,’ I say.
‘Well, let’s hope you haven’t picked up any bad habits from those Geordies. What about you?’ He points at Art.
‘Hi, I’m Art Sullivan,’ says Art. ‘I grew up near the Royal Canal.’ I force myself not to roll my eyes. He’s implying he grew up on the mean streets, not a large townhouse. ‘And I went to school in the north inner city.’
Despite the fact that I’m still reeling from the deadline bombshell, I stifle a snort of appalled laughter. I can’t help it. My friend Sinéad’s brother was Art’s best mate at school, so I know for a fact that he went to Belvedere. Which, yes, is situated in the north inner city, but is also a prestigious Jesuit private school.
‘I got into college,’ continues Art, as if attending university had been a struggle against the odds as opposed to an automatic next step. ‘Then I went to Los Angeles for a while and worked in film and TV. And now I’m back home.’
‘Why are you back?’ says Bernard.
‘Personal reasons,’ says Art smoothly.
I’ve been so worried about all our new colleagues hating us that I haven’t had much time to ponder why the hell golden boy Art Sullivan is slumming it here with the likes of me. Now I can’t help wondering what the personal reasons might be. Whatever they are, this is a bit of a comedown for someone who was once so scornful of the entire medium.
‘How kind of you to grace us with your presence,’ says Bernard. ‘I hope it won’t seem too boring to you after LA.’ He says the last bit with cartoonish sarcasm.
‘I’m sure it won’t,’ says Art.
‘Good,’ says Bernard, ‘because you’d better read the new scene-by-scenes and story documents in about thirty seconds so we can get this meeting started properly. Gina, can you resend everything to these dilettantes?’
The new documents arrive in my inbox. I frantically scan them as Susan starts speaking. ‘As most of you know,’ she says, ‘the original anniversary-week episodes were centred on Amanda discovering that newcomer Louisa was her long-lost sister. Then just as Amanda turns to Joe for comfort and it looks like they’ll finally get together, we were going to reveal that Louisa had a baby with Joe ten years ago, conceived when he went on that work trip to Galway for a few months.’
‘When Paul was in gambling rehab,’ someone mutters. ‘Again.’
‘We’d already cast the bloody sister,’ says Bernard mournfully.
‘Yes, well, we’ve found a way to work Louisa into the new stories,’ says Susan. ‘And because Amanda and Joe played key parts in the other stories in this block, all those storylines had to be totally reworked too, and the story team has done a fantastic job. So let’s show our appreciation.’
She starts clapping and everyone joins in apart from Bernard, Gina and a few very tired-looking people at the far end of the table, who nod modestly.
‘Right,’ says Bernard. ‘Now you’ve reminded us of what I thought you all knew already, let’s start this tone meeting. Or story meeting. Whatever the hell it is.’
Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be no fun at all.
And I’m right.
Chapter Three
INT:NORTHSIDEOFFICES
Susan said the plan was to makeNorthsidemore collaborative over the coming months, and based on this morning those changes can’t kick in soon enough.
Because whatever Bernard might have done forNorthsideten years ago, right now he’s just being a dick. There are six episodes in this fortnight’s block, and as I skim through the story documents I try to listen to the discussion of the first one, but all the discussion amounts to is Bernard tearing everything to shreds.
I haven’t seen anyone be so mean and dismissive to another human being since … well, since school.
Maybe that’s why I find myself getting more and more angry with Bernard as the meeting goes on. The man in the fluffy cardigan –his name turns out to be Simon – has a really good suggestion for tweaking Louisa’s entrance scene but Bernard snaps ‘No!’ and starts talking about the next scene. How does he think dismissing everyone’s ideas is going to make them write better scripts? And it’s not like his approach is making the show particularly brilliant, based on the grim episodes I’ve watched recently. At one stage when Bernard is berating Simon, I’m so enraged I let out an involuntary noise that sounds, I have to admit, a little bit like a growl.
Bernard stops mid-rant and turns to me, his eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have something to say, Ms Newcomer?’