‘Great fit,’ says Matthew, picking up the baton smoothly.
‘So is that a go thing for you guys?’ says Sam.
‘A bit of work to do, but it’s well on its way,’ Matthew replies. He turns to Emilia. ‘Look, if it’s something you’re interested in, we haven’t gone to anyone yet and you’d be top of our list for Medea.’
‘I’ve been so busy I’m behind on my reading …’ Emilia glances at Sam.
‘I need to cut more space into your schedule. I’ll get onto that. But it’s a great piece of work.’ Sam nods at his client and turns to Becky. ‘And if you put Sharon on it, well, that’s a movie.’
‘Can I read it and let you know?’ says Emilia.
‘Of course,’ says Matthew. ‘We’d be thrilled to talk to you about it.’
‘I actually talked to the screenwriter about one of your performances before he went to draft,’ says Becky. ‘That moment in Your Daughter when you stand at the edge of the sea and then walk in. There was something about the endurance and sacrifice of that character. It really got me. And even though this role isn’t anything like that, apart from those things, it was one of the only performance steers I gave him. I thought your work in that scene was incredible.’
Emilia is listening to her now. Really listening.
‘If you like,’ Becky continues, ‘we could even try and find time to sit down with Sharon while we’re all here together?’ It’s a push, but Becky knows that the promise to read something fades fast. Getting into a room with a director you admire – that makes things real.
‘That’d be great,’ says Emilia.
‘I’ll hook us all up,’ says Sam. ‘Let’s make a fucking movie, guys!’ He raises his coffee cup in a toast, and then four coffee cups meet in mid-air, and Becky hears the blood pounding in her ears.
Sam consults his iPhone. ‘We need to get you up to the Peacock Suite for the junket, we’re a little late already,’ he says to Emilia.
‘See you soon,’ says Emilia to Becky, giving her a big smile. And then they’re gone.
Becky and Matthew sit there in silence for a full minute. Becky is savouring the moment, and hopes that he is, too.
‘Sharon McManus it is then,’ he says.
‘Was that OK? I’d have rather run it by you first.’
‘No. Look, Emilia gets it made. You could have my brother’s Labrador directing and someone’d still finance it with Emilia in the lead.’
Disappointment pricks at her. She had wanted to impress Matthew with the value of what she, alone, had brought to the party. ‘Do you not rate Sharon?’
‘I think she’s good. My point is she doesn’t have to be better than good. Because you’ve landed Emilia.’
‘Have we?’ She feels better again.
‘I think so. Sam knows her better than anyone and he’s a big fan of the script. He wouldn’t roll out all that “let’s make a fucking movie” bollocks if he didn’t think she was thinking that. I’ll call him to check, but I think we can start talking about it.’
‘Don’t we need to get Sharon to approve Emilia first?’
‘No!’ Then, softer, ‘It’s your film. If you want to make Sharon feel like she’s in charge, that’s up to you. Personally I don’t think it hurts for a director to feel like they’re coming onto something substantial. Something that will very easily survive them exiting it, if it comes to that. But you have to figure out what works for you and for the situation. It’s different every time.’
‘But you think we’ll get it made?’
‘I do. And I need to spend more time hanging out in the toilets. Not a tip anyone’s ever given me before.’
‘I got lucky.’
‘Bollocks. You somehow managed to attach Sharon to your project between pissing and washing your hands. That’s a rare talent, Becky.’
She fills with happiness at these words, the ones she’s been waiting for. She feels silly for the disappointment she felt earlier. She should know Matthew by now. He always picks his time to roll out a deserved compliment for maximum effect. His eyes are shining and he is still smiling at her in an enquiring way, as if she is an artefact that has caught his eye. She wonders whether she’s closer to being more like Emilia, more alluring to him, and in the same thought, the possibility repulses her. Instinctively she takes hold of her own wrist.
‘What would you have tabled otherwise? To convince Emilia? Just out of interest?’ Matthew’s question is so professional that she is torn violently out of her magical, ridiculous thinking.
‘She did a fundraiser for a women’s refuge back when she was a teenager. Her mum was disowned by her family when Emilia was a baby. The father ran off with another woman and left them with nothing. She’s talked about it in a few interviews. I was going to go for a take on Medea as someone who gives love, gives birth, honours her family, and then gets left, disowned, betrayed. Despite having done nothing but try her hardest, men blame and punish her. That was going to be my thing. Try and make it personal.’
‘No, I get it.’
‘You can’t just launch in with all that over an Americano though, can you?’
Matthew laughs. ‘Not a bad Plan B though.’ They grin at each other. Thoughts of being alluring now firmly shelved, she likes that she and Matthew are in on this together, side by side, players on the same team. If nothing else, she is on her way to feeling like she is someone interesting.
Good news travels fast but rumours fly faster here, where knowing things is the one currency everyone understands and values.
Sit somewhere visible, Matthew has told her, and watch them come to you. That’s when you know. Bringing her in on his secrets now.
So she sits outside a café, sheltered from the sun by a canopy, blue and branded with the insignia of a well-known champagne – drinking
