Shopaholic to the Stars

TWELVE

I’ve done my research. I’m taking this seriously. I’m going to be the best extra ever.

No, not ‘extra’. The proper term is ‘background actor’. I’ve found out so much on the internet about being an extra, I feel really well prepared. For example, you should always bring playing cards or a book in case you get bored. And you shouldn’t wear green, in case they’re using a green screen for CGI. And you should bring a variety of outfits. Although that doesn’t apply in this case, as apparently our costumes will be provided. A limo has also been provided to take us to the film set, which is definitely not standard practice. They’re being super-nice to us because of Suze being married to Tarkie.

In fact, I’m secretly hoping they might be so nice that they give us each a little line to say. I mean, why not? Obviously not big lines or speeches or anything. Just something small. I could say, ‘’Tis true, cap’n,’ after the Pirate Captain makes a speech. And Suze could say, ‘Land ahoy!’ or ‘Ship ahoy!’ or ‘Pirate ahoy!’ Anything ahoy, really. I’ve been practising a special growly, piratess voice in the mirror, and I’ve read an article on acting for film. It says the most common mistake, even for trained actors, is to over-act, and that the camera picks up the most infinitesimal movements and magnifies them, so you need to make everything tiny.

I’m not sure Suze realizes this, because she’s spent the whole of breakfast doing all these loud warm-up exercises and shaking her hands out to ‘loosen herself up’ and saying ‘Wibble-wobble’ over and over again. But I can’t tell her anything about acting, because she just says, ‘Bex, I went to drama school, remember.’

The film is being shot at a soundstage in Burbank, and that’s where we’re heading right now. Luke is dropping off Minnie at pre-school today, as well as Suze’s children. (As soon as the headmistress found out who Tarkie was, she fell over herself to offer the Cleath-Stuarts temporary places, and the principal of a nearby school immediately found space for Ernest too.) We’re sitting in the limo, watching the billboards speed by and grinning madly at each other. This is the most exciting thing I have done in my life, ever.

I don’t know what the scene’s about – in fact, I don’t really know what the film’s about because all it says online is ‘Drama set on the high seas’. But I’ve done a bit of practice at swinging a cutlass (I used a kitchen knife) because you never know, it might be a fight scene.

‘Hey, Suze, if I have to fight someone, bagsy it’s you,’ I say.

‘Me too,’ agrees Suze at once. ‘Except, will the womenfolk fight? They might just look on and jeer.’

‘There are female pirates,’ I say knowledgeably. ‘We can be one of those. Look at Elizabeth Swann.’

‘I want to fight Captain Jack Sparrow,’ says Suze longingly.

‘He’s not in it!’ I say for the millionth time. Suze is a bit hung up on Johnny Depp, and I think she was hoping that we were going to be in a new Pirates of the Caribbean. But it’s not that. It’s called The Black Flag, and I don’t recognize the names of any of the stars except April Tremont, who is playing ‘Gwennie’.

‘I know he’s not. But still. Wouldn’t it be amazing?’ She sighs.

‘There’ll probably be an even hotter pirate king in this one,’ I point out, as my phone rings. It’s Dad calling, which surprises me. Normally it’s Mum who rings, and then passes me over to Dad, and then instantly grabs the phone back as there’s something she’s forgotten to tell me about Janice’s new sofa covers or the geraniums.

‘Dad!’ I exclaim. ‘Guess what Suze and I are doing right now?’

‘Drinking orange juice in the sunshine,’ says Dad with a laugh. ‘I hope you are.’

‘Wrong! We’re in a limo, going to the film set!’

Mum and Dad already know we’re going to be extras in a movie, because I phoned them up to tell them, straight away. And Janice and Martin. And Jess and Tom, and my old bank manager Derek Smeath …

I suppose I did phone quite a few people, now I think about it.

‘Wonderful, darling!’ says Dad. ‘Make sure you hobnob with the movie stars.’

‘We will!’

‘I was just wondering, did you ever manage to look up my old friend Brent?’

Oh. Damn. What with Golden Peace, and Suze arriving, it completely slipped my mind.

‘Not yet,’ I say guiltily. ‘I haven’t quite had time. But I will, I promise.’

‘Well, that would be marvellous.’

‘I’ll go and see him really soon, and I’ll give him all your details.’

We’ve arrived at a barricaded entrance to a large complex with buildings and courtyards, and as the driver slows down, I see a row of trailers out of the window. Real film trailers!

‘We’re here! There are trailers!’ I say in excitement. ‘Oh Dad, you should see it!’

‘Sounds fantastic,’ says Dad. ‘Well, you let me know about Brent.’

‘I will,’ I say, only half paying attention. ‘See you, Dad.’

The driver is giving our names to the gate man. As Suze and I stare out of the window, agog, I see a man in a pirate costume walk to one of the trailers, knock on the door and go inside.

‘Oh my God,’ says Suze.

‘I know!’ I can’t help giggling.

As we’re whisked into the complex, my head is swivelling this way and that, trying to take in every detail. It’s all just as I imagined. There are girls with earpieces and clipboards. There’s a guy carrying what looks like a marble statue under his arm. There’s a woman in a crinoline, talking to a man in a leather jacket.

‘I’m nervous,’ says Suze suddenly. ‘What if I’m crap?’

‘Nervous?’ I say in astonishment. ‘Suze, you’ll be great!’ The car stops and I squeeze her arm encouragingly. ‘Come on, let’s go and find some coffee. You know, the main thing about being in a film is the catering.’

I’m so right about the catering. After wandering about for a few minutes we find this great big table called Craft Service, covered with a fabulous array of coffee, tea, biscuits, cupcakes and even little sushi rolls. As I’m eating my third cherry-almond cookie, a guy in a headset comes up, looking a little hassled.

‘Are you Lady Cleath-Stuart?’

‘Here,’ says Suze, her mouth full of muffin.

‘I’m Dino, the second AD. You were supposed to meet me out front.’

‘Oh, sorry. We wanted some coffee.’ Suze beams at him. ‘This hazelnut latte is delicious!’

‘Oh. Great.’ He mutters something into a tiny walkie-talkie, then looks up again. ‘Well, let me take you to meet Don. He’s our publicist and he’ll be looking after you today.’

Don is very dapper and has the strangest cheekbones I’ve ever seen. What has gone on with those? Has he had them filled? Or has he had his cheek fat sucked out? Either way, it hasn’t been a success, not that I’m going to mention this or stare at his face. Much. He ushers us into a massive warehouse-like space, and lowers his voice as we pick our way over wires and cables.

‘Lady Cleath-Stuart,’ he says with reverence, ‘we’re delighted to welcome you to the set of The Black Flag. We want today to be as enjoyable and interesting for you as possible. Please, follow me. We thought you’d like to see the set before we take you to Wardrobe.’

Suze is totally a VIP! This is so great! We both hurry after him, dodging past some guys carrying a fake stone wall made out of wood. We head towards a cluster of directors’ chairs and a monitor, and lots of people with headphones and serious expressions.

‘That’s what we call “video village”,’ Don says in an undertone. ‘This is where the director watches the action. Please make sure your phones are switched off. I think we’re about to have a take.’

We edge round until we can see the set properly. It’s the interior of a library, and two actors are sitting on armchairs. The lady is all dressed up in a velvet crinoline and the man is in a tailcoat. Bending down, talking to them intently, is a skinny guy in jeans with bright-red hair.

‘That’s Ant, the director,’ murmurs Don. As we’re watching, Ant leaps back to his chair, puts on his headphones and stares intently into his monitor.

‘Rolling!’ yells someone from the set.

‘Rolling!’ several other people echo at once. ‘Rolling! Rolling!’ Even behind us, by the door, two girls are yelling, ‘Rolling!’

‘Rolling!’ I join in helpfully. ‘ROLLING!’

This is so cool. I feel like a member of the film crew already!

‘Action!’ calls Ant, and, like magic, the whole place becomes totally still. Anyone who was walking has stopped dead, and all conversations have ceased, mid-sentence.

‘Kidnapped,’ says the lady in velvet. ‘Kidnapped!’ The man takes hold of her hand and she gazes at him mournfully.

‘Cut!’ shouts Ant, and leaps down on to the set again.

‘This scene is set in the home of Lady Violet,’ whispers Don. ‘She’s just learned that their daughter Katriona has been kidnapped by pirates. Would you like to go closer?’

We tiptoe forward, till we’re at ‘video village’. There are several directors’ chairs with names printed on the backs of them and I look at them lustfully. I would die to have a chair with my name on it. My mind is suddenly seized with an image of a chair reading: Becky Brandon, Wardrobe Designer. Just imagine if I started working in movies and I got my name on the back of a chair! I wouldn’t ever want to stand up. I’d walk around with my chair stapled to me.

The wardrobe designer on this movie is called Renée Slattery. I’ve already Googled her and planned what I’ll say if we meet. I’ll compliment the costumes in Saw Her Too Soon, which is another movie she worked on, and then I’ll talk about the challenges of working with period dress. (I don’t know much about that, but I can busk it.) And then I’ll ask casually if she needs any help, maybe with shopping for grosgrain ribbon, or button boots, or whatever.

I mean, she’s bound to need help, surely? And then we can start working together and bouncing ideas around, and I’ll edge myself in that way.

Both Suze and I are given directors’ chairs with Visitor written on the back, and we perch self-consciously on them, watching as they shoot the scene twice more. I can’t actually tell the difference between the takes, not that I’ll admit that. Ant keeps swigging coffee and staring into the monitor and shouting instructions to some guy with a high-up camera to the left.

Suddenly he swivels round and stares at me and Suze, then says, almost aggressively, to Don, ‘Who are they? What are they doing on my set?’

Don ducks his head down and I can hear him murmuring, ‘Lord Cleath-Stuart … financier … special guests … studio …’

‘Well, keep them out of the way,’ says Ant brusquely.

Honestly! We’re not in the way! I roll my eyes at Suze, but she has found a script from somewhere and is reading through it, mouthing lines to herself. Suze would really have loved to be an actress. (Or an eventer. Or an artist. Or a newsreader. She’s had lots of career ideas, to be honest.)

‘Dylan!’ The director suddenly raises his voice. ‘Where’s Dylan?’

‘Here!’ A mousy guy in a grey T-shirt hurries forward.

‘This is the writer,’ Don explains to me and Suze. ‘He stays on set in case we need extra dialogue.’

‘We need another line here for Lady Violet,’ Ant is saying. ‘We need to convey the gravitas of what’s happened, but also, like, the dignity of Lady Violet. She’s not going to buckle. She’s going to fight.’ He pauses. ‘Only in, like, three or four words.’

‘Right.’ Dylan is nodding anxiously. ‘Right.’

As Ant strides away, he starts scribbling on a yellow legal pad and I watch him in fascination. He’s creating a film, right here. We’re watching film history being made! Then suddenly an idea comes to me. It’s so good, I almost gasp out loud.

‘Sorry,’ I say, waving to get Dylan’s attention. ‘Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but a line came to me, and I thought you could use it. It just popped into my head,’ I add modestly.

‘Well done, Bex!’ exclaims Suze.

Dylan sighs. ‘What is it?’

‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ As I say it out loud, I can’t help feeling proud of myself.

‘That’s brilliant!’ says Suze. ‘Only you should say it with more passion. “With great power comes great responsibility,”’ she repeats in a low, throbbing voice. ‘“With great power comes great responsibility.’”

‘Perfect!’ I add to Dylan, ‘She went to drama school, you know.’

Dylan is looking at us as though we’re both insane.

‘That line is from Spider-Man,’ he says shortly.

Spider-Man?

‘Really?’ I wrinkle my brow. ‘Are you sure? Because I don’t remember it—’

‘Of course I’m sure! Jeez!’ He crosses out the line he’s writing and scribbles something else.

‘Oh,’ I say, discomfited. ‘Right. Sorry.’

‘Well then, what about, “With great grief comes great challenge”?’ suggests Suze.

‘Or, “With great trouble comes great fortune,”’ I chime in eagerly. ‘Or, “With great sadness comes great light.”’ I’m quite proud of this one, but Dylan is looking more and more rattled.

‘Could you let me concentrate, please?’ he snaps.

‘Oh, OK. Sorry.’ Suze and I subside, making faces at each other. We watch, fascinated, as he covers his page with writing, then abruptly heads over to Ant.

‘How about this?’

‘OK. We’ll try it.’ Ant walks on to the set and I can see him showing the page to the actress in the velvet dress.

‘Why don’t you just take the line to the actors yourself?’ I say as Dylan sits down.

‘I don’t approach the set.’ He sounds shocked at the idea. ‘The director approaches the set.’

He sounds like he’s saying, ‘I don’t approach the throne.’ Blimey, film sets are complicated places. ‘So, I hope you enjoyed your visit,’ he adds, clearly forcing himself to be polite. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘Oh, we haven’t finished our visit yet,’ I explain.

‘We’re going to be in the film!’ adds Suze.

‘We’re extras!’

‘You?’ He looks from me to Suze and back again.

I’m about to say he needn’t look so dubious, when Ant appears, scowling at Dylan, and chucks the legal pad at him.

‘Yolanda says this is flaccid, and I agree. Can’t you do better than that?’

Honestly. What a bully. I bet Dylan’s written a brilliant line. (Although not as good as ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’)

‘I was distracted by these two,’ says Dylan meanly, gesturing at us, and my sympathy instantly evaporates. He didn’t have to blame us! We were trying to help! Ant glowers at us, then glowers even more at Dylan.

‘Well, give me some more options. We’re taking five.’ Ant strides away, and Dylan frowns over his legal pad again, chewing his pen. The atmosphere is quite tense, and I’m relieved when Don appears and beckons us away from the chairs.

‘The actors are having a break,’ he says. ‘So I thought you’d like to look over the set before we head to Wardrobe.’

We follow him to the set, and step cautiously on to the carpet. We’re standing on a real movie set! It’s quite small, but really well designed, with shelves of books and a table with ornaments and a fake window with a velvet curtain.

‘Excuse me,’ says Don as his phone buzzes, ‘I must take this call.’

He steps off the set, and Suze sits on Lady Violet’s chair. ‘Kidnapped,’ she says in a mournful voice. ‘Kidnapped!’

‘Really good!’ I say. ‘D’you think Lady Violet’s dress is a bit bunchy? I think it could be more flattering. I might tell the wardrobe person.’

‘Kidnapped!’ says Suze again, and stares out to the camera, extending her hands as though she’s on a massive London stage and that’s the audience. ‘Oh my God. Kidnapped! Will our nightmare never end?’

‘Everything looks so realistic,’ I say, trailing my hand over a row of fake book spines. ‘Look at this cupboard.’ I rattle the door but it’s stuck fast. ‘It looks so real, but it’s fake, like everything.’ I wander over to the little table. ‘I mean, look at these cakes. They look totally real. They even smell real. It’s so clever.’

‘They might be real,’ points out Suze.

‘Of course they’re not real. Nothing on a film set is real. Look.’ I lift one up confidently and take a bite out of it.

Shit. It was real. I have a mouthful of sponge and cream.

‘Bex!’ Suze is staring at me in consternation. ‘That cake is in the film! You can’t eat it!’

‘I didn’t mean to!’ I say defensively.

I feel slightly outraged. They shouldn’t have real cakes on a movie set. It goes against the whole spirit of the thing.

I look around, but no one seems to have seen me. What shall I do now? I can’t put half a cake back on the table.

‘OK, we’re going again,’ comes a booming voice. ‘Clear the set!’

Oh God. The actors are returning and I still have half a cake in my hands.

Maybe they won’t notice.

I hastily leave the set, my hands hidden my back, and find a place where I’m almost hidden behind a stone pillar. The two actors are sitting back down on the chairs and everyone is gathering for a new take.

‘Wait a minute.’ A girl dressed all in black comes running on to the set. She squints into the screen of a little camera, then peers at the table. ‘What happened to the other cake?’

Damn.

The actors are looking around blankly, as though they hadn’t even realized there were any cakes in the shot.

‘Cake?’ says the man at last.

‘Yes, cake! There should be six!’ She jabs at her camera screen. ‘What happened to it?’

‘Well, don’t look at me!’ says the man, sounding affronted. ‘I never saw the cake.’

‘Yes you did!’

‘I think there were five,’ says the actress playing Lady Violet.

‘Excuse me,’ says the girl in black tightly. ‘If I say there were six, then there were six, and unless you want to reshoot everything we’ve done this morning I suggest you don’t move the props around.’

‘I didn’t move anything around!’ retorts Lady Violet.

I have to confess. Go on, Becky. I force myself to step forward on to the edge of the set and clear my throat.

‘Um, excuse me?’ I say awkwardly. ‘It’s here. Sorry.’

I proffer my hand and everyone stares at the half-eaten, crumby cake. My cheeks are flaming with embarrassment, especially when a chunk falls on the floor. I quickly bend to get it, feeling worse than ever.

‘Shall I put it back on the table?’ I venture. ‘We could hide the eaten side …’

The girl in black raises her eyes to mine disbelievingly.

‘You ate a prop?’

‘I didn’t mean to!’ I say hurriedly. ‘I thought it was fake, and I was just biting it to prove it—’

‘I knew it wasn’t fake,’ puts in Suze. ‘I told her. I said, no fake cake could be that good—’

‘Yes it could!’ I object. ‘They have amazing modern technology.’

‘Not that amazing—’

‘Anyway.’ A thought suddenly occurs to me. ‘Maybe it’s a good thing. Because would they actually have that many cakes?’ I appeal to Ant. ‘Six is a lot for two people. You don’t want them to look greedy, do you? You don’t want the audience thinking, “No wonder Lady Violet needs a corset if she’s eating all these cakes—”’

‘Enough!’ Ant suddenly flips out. ‘Get these girls off my set!’ He glares at Don. ‘I don’t care who they are, they’re banned.’

Banned? Suze and I exchange shocked looks.

‘But we’re going to be extras!’ says Suze in dismay.

‘I’m really sorry we disturbed you,’ I say hastily. ‘I didn’t mean to eat the cake. I won’t eat anything else.’

‘Ant, listen a moment,’ Don says soothingly. He hurries over and starts murmuring in Ant’s ear.

I can see Ant shooting us baleful looks, but at last he puffs angrily and says, ‘Fine. Whatever. I need to get going.’

I’m holding my breath as Don returns to us and firmly ushers us away from the set.

‘Can we still be extras?’ demands Suze anxiously.

‘Of course!’ he says, smiling tensely. ‘No problem. Let’s just get you to Wardrobe and then … well. What I would recommend is that in the upcoming scene you take more of a backseat role.’

‘You mean, don’t talk to the director,’ says Suze. ‘And don’t eat the props.’

He nods. ‘That kind of thing.’

‘Hear that, Bex?’ Suze nudges me. ‘No scoffing the set.’

OK, I’m going to make amends. I’m going to be really quiet and unobtrusive on set. Or at least, as unobtrusive as I can be, bearing in mind I’m now in a curly red wig, blackened teeth, hoop skirt and a laced bodice which makes my boobs look … Well. Prominent would be one word. Ridiculous would be another.

My make-up was slapped on in about five seconds by a girl listening to an iPod, but still, I’m transformed! I look dirty, grimy, wrinkled and kind of scary. As for Suze, she looks like an old crone. She’s got a black matted wig and some kind of tooth plate which changes the shape of her mouth, and warts all over her hands. She’s walking around with a limp and, honestly, she looks just like a pirate. I’m not doing a limp, but I think I might do a little palsied shake in my hands. Or a twitch. Just a very subtle one.

We’ve been put in a side room and all the other extras are sitting around reading books and looking bored, but I’m roaming about, staying alert. The only slight downside is I haven’t yet managed to speak to anyone about job opportunities in Wardrobe. Renée Slattery is nowhere to be seen, and all the wardrobe staff are quite harassed. I asked a question about my petticoat length, and the girl in charge said, ‘Doesn’t matter. Next?’

Doesn’t matter? How can a petticoat not matter?

Then I asked her how she got into her job, and she said, ‘I was idiot enough to want to get up at five a.m. my whole life,’ which is not an answer, and shooshed me along.

‘Background actors!’ The second AD, Dino, is standing at the door. ‘Background actors to set, please!’

Ooh! That’s us!

As we file through the soundstage and on to the set, I feel a sizzle of excitement. It’s really happening! I’m going to be in a film! This set is far bigger than the last one and is the inside of a ship’s cabin. There are about ten extras, including me and Suze – all women – and according to a conversation I overheard just now, this is a really key, important scene.

A key, important scene! What if it becomes one of those really famous movie scenes that gets shown on the telly all the time and I’m in it! What if I get discovered! I feel a ridiculous flicker of hope. I mean, I know I’ve never really considered acting as a career, but what if I have the right face for film and I never realized it before?

I’m gripped by a vivid fantasy in which Ant suddenly stops the shooting and focuses the camera on me, and then turns to his assistant and says, simply, ‘My God. Look at her cheekbones.’

I mean, OK, I know it’s not that likely. But I do have quite good cheekbones, and everything’s different when you look at it through a camera and—

‘Bex!’ Suze prods me. ‘Dino’s calling you!’

I hurry over to Dino and look expectantly at him, hoping he might say something like, ‘I’d like to audition you for the small part of Pirate Princess.’

‘OK, you. Cake-eater girl.’ He looks up from a list.

Cake-eater girl?

‘I’m called Becky,’ I tell him.

‘Nice.’ He’s clearly not listening. ‘Now, I’m placing you where Ant can’t see you. We don’t want him wound up any further. You’ll be polishing Gwennie’s shoes with this rag, and you stay in this position the whole scene. Keep your face down, away from the camera. Got it? Away from the camera.’ He turns away, summoning the next girl and I stare at him, crestfallen.

Away from the camera? But no one will see me. What about my family? I want to wail. How will they know it’s me?

I feel totally crushed as I get into position, grovelling on the floor and clutching a manky old rag. This isn’t what I imagined at all. A girl who looks a bit like April Tremont has sat down on the chair and shoots me an uninterested glance. I guess she’s the stand-in.

‘People!’ Dino is clapping his hands. ‘A little background to the scene we’ll be playing. The pirates’ womenfolk are preparing for the marriage ceremony. Gwennie, played by April Tremont …’ There’s a burst of applause from some of the extras, and Dino smiles in acknowledgement. ‘Gwennie is being given to the pirate bandit, Eduardo, played by Curt Millson. However, she’s in love with the rival pirate Captain Arthur, aka captain of the Black Flag, and in this scene we’ll see this fact being discovered by Eduardo.’

‘Hi,’ I say miserably to the stand-in. ‘I have to polish your shoes.’

‘Fine.’ She lifts up her skirt and I rub her shoe dispiritedly.

‘OK, we’re going to rehearse!’ comes Dino’s voice. ‘Action!’

‘Marriage to Eduardo,’ says the stand-in, in a monotone. ‘Never while I’m alive.’ She takes out a scarf and fondles it. ‘Oh, Arthur.’

‘Background actors,’ instructs Dino. ‘I want you to look at the scarf. You’re interested in it.’

Obediently I crick my head to look at the scarf, but Dino immediately says, ‘Not you, cake-eater girl.’

Great. Everyone else gets to look at the scarf while I get to grovel on the floorboards. The door swings open with a creak and I hear the tramp of heavy boots.

‘What is that pretty thing?’ comes a deep, masculine voice. ‘Show me.’

‘Never!’ says the stand-in.

Then there’s some sort of tussle, but I can’t see because I don’t dare lift my head. This is so frustrating. I’m longing to see what it’s all about, but I can’t see a bloody thing, stuck down here. I’ll never get to do my twitch, let alone say, ‘’Tis true, cap’n.’ It’s so depressing.

‘Cut!’

I sit back on my heels and wave at Suze, trying not to feel envious. It’s OK for her, she’s on a step, where everyone can see her. She’s even been given a proper prop – an old broken comb – and she’s combing her tangled hair with a theatrical flourish.

‘Excuse me.’ A mellifluous voice hits my ear, and a tiny button boot appears in front of my eyes. I look up and feel a jolt of awe. It’s April Tremont! Herself! She’s stepping into the chair, and lifting up her skirts so I can rub at her boots.

‘I guess you’re polishing these,’ she says with a nod. ‘Poor you.’

‘Oh it’s fine!’ I say at once. ‘It’s fun. You know. I love polishing boots. I mean, not just on film sets, I love polishing them at home, and in the garden and … er …’

Argh. Stop babbling, Becky.

‘I’m April,’ she says pleasantly.

Like I didn’t know that. Like she’s not really, really famous.

‘I’m Becky.’

‘You’re the one who ate the cake?’

‘It was a mistake,’ I say hastily.

‘That made me laugh.’ She smiles, that amazing smile which I’ve seen in loads of movies. Well, not loads of movies exactly. Two movies and one sitcom and an ad campaign for moisturizer. But still.

‘April. Curt. A word with you both?’ Ant is heading over this way and I hurriedly bury my face in April’s skirt, so he won’t notice me. Not that he seems to notice any of the extras, anyway.

‘I want some real violence in this scene,’ I hear him saying above my head. ‘Curt, when you see the insignia of your enemy on Gwennie’s scarf, everything changes. You know she’s in love with Arthur, and it infuriates you. Remember, this scene is the pivot; it’s what drives you to attack the Fleet of Foes; it’s what starts the whole chain of events. OK, guys? Passion. Intensity. Let’s go for a take.’

Despite everything I can’t help feeling a jolt of excitement. A take! We’re going for a take! It’s happening!

An hour later, I’m feeling a teeny bit less excited. We’ve done the scene over and over, and every time I have to keep my head down while all the action goes on above, and I’m getting achy knees from being in this position.

Plus, the more we do the scene, the less I understand it.

‘Are you OK?’ April Tremont smiles down from where she’s having her make-up touched up. ‘Pretty tough down there.’

‘Oh, it’s fine!’ I say at once. ‘Fine! Really fab!’

‘Enjoying the scene?’

‘Er …’ I hesitate. I know I should say, ‘Yes, it’s brilliant!’ But the truth is, I just can’t relate to it.

‘I don’t get it,’ I say at last. ‘But you’re really good,’ I add quickly.

‘Which part don’t you get?’ says April, looking interested.

‘Well, why are you playing with your scarf?’

‘It’s a memento from my lover, Arthur,’ explains April. ‘It has his distinctive insignia on it. See?’ She holds the scarf out so I can see.

‘I know that.’ I nod. ‘But you’re on Eduardo’s ship. He’s really violent and he hates Arthur. So wouldn’t you keep it hidden? If you really loved Arthur you’d protect him, surely.’

April Tremont stares at me silently for a few moments. ‘That’s a good point,’ she says. ‘Why am I playing with it?’

‘Maybe you’re supposed to be quite stupid?’ I suggest.

‘No!’ says April sharply. ‘I’m not. Ant!’ She raises her voice. ‘Ant, come over here!’

Oh God. I tuck my face down into her skirt and try to look as inconspicuous as possible.

‘Ant, I have a problem with my motivation,’ says April. ‘Why does Gwennie get out the scarf?’

I sneak a quick glance upwards – and Ant is staring at April as though suspecting a trick question.

‘We went through this already,’ he says. ‘It’s sentimental. She’s thinking of her lover.’

‘But why get the scarf out now, when it’s so dangerous? She’s on an enemy ship. Why would she be so foolhardy?’

There’s silence for a few moments, then Ant yells, ‘Dylan! Get over here. Please explain to April the motivation of her character.’

At once Dylan comes hurrying over, his sneakers squeaking on the floor of the soundstage.

‘Oh, OK,’ he says, sounding a bit nervous. ‘Well, Gwennie is thinking of her lover Arthur. She’s remembering the times they had together. So she gets out the scarf—’

‘Why?’ interrupts April.

‘To remember him by.’ Dylan sounds a bit flummoxed. ‘That’s her motivation.’

‘But she can remember him without a scarf. Why would she risk his life for the sake of a scarf?’

‘She’s a woman,’ says Dylan feebly. ‘She’s sentimental.’

‘She’s a woman?’ retorts April, sounding suddenly livid. ‘She’s a woman? That’s no kind of answer! Just because she’s a woman, it doesn’t mean she’s an imbecile! I’m not doing it,’ she says firmly. ‘I’m not taking out the scarf. Gwennie isn’t a moron. She wouldn’t do it.’

‘But you have to take out the scarf!’ says Dylan in consternation. ‘That’s the point of the scene!’

‘Well, you’ll have to find a different point for the scene.’

‘April, sweetie,’ says Ant, breathing hard. ‘You have to take out the scarf. If Eduardo doesn’t see the scarf, then he won’t launch the attack on the Fleet of Foes. That’s the whole second act. That’s the whole fucking movie.’

‘Well, it doesn’t make any sense,’ says April obstinately. ‘Becky’s right.’

‘Becky?’ Ant sounds at the end of his tether. ‘Who’s Becky?’

Reluctantly I raise my head from April’s skirts to see Ant staring at me with a thunderous disbelief.

‘Oh, hi,’ I say nervously, and risk a little smile. ‘Fab directing,’ I quickly add. ‘Really inspired.’

‘You again?’ says Dylan incredulously.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Ant expostulates. ‘You’re derailing my movie!’ He almost looks like he might hit me.

‘No I’m not!’ I say in horror. ‘I mean – I didn’t mean to!’

‘You should be thanking her!’ says April. ‘The scene has a big hole in it and she’s the only one who noticed.’ She stands up. ‘Sort out your scene, gentlemen. I’ll be in my trailer. Gilly, Uggs?’

One of the wardrobe girls hurries forward and unlaces April’s button boots.

‘April!’ says Ant. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘If you don’t pick it up, the critics will,’ she snaps. She steps into a pair of Uggs and strides across the soundstage. She’s leaving. Oh my God.

‘Come back here!’ says Ant furiously.

‘Fix the scene!’ she retorts over her shoulder.

I can see Ant and Dylan exchanging perturbed looks.

‘April, be reasonable.’ Ant hurries after her. ‘Look, we’ll discuss it.’

As I glance around, all the extras and crew are watching, riveted. What do we do now?

There’s a hurried confab going on between Dino and some other guy in a headset, then Dino strides towards the set.

‘OK, lunch. Lunch, everybody.’

At once, the extras all start to head off, and Suze bounds across the set to me, as fast as she can in her big skirt.

‘What did you do?’ she demands.

‘I didn’t do anything!’

‘Well, everyone’s blaming you.’

‘Really?’ I stare at her in dismay. ‘That is so unfair!’

‘No, they’re pleased. They might get overtime. Shall we go and get some lunch? They might have some more of that sushi. You know, I might become a full-time extra,’ she adds as we walk along. ‘I’ve learned such a lot. There’s a special agency you join, and there’s plenty of work if you have the right look. You can make good money!’

Good money? I want to point out to Suze that she already has good money, what with her husband being a squillionaire, only she looks so animated, I don’t like to.

‘And if you can ride a horse that counts as a special skill,’ she’s saying, when a fresh-faced girl hurries up to us.

‘Becky? Is one of you Becky?’

‘That’s me,’ I say, a bit nervously.

‘Miss Tremont would like to see you in her trailer.’

Suze and I look at each other, agog. A trailer! A proper movie star wants to see me in her trailer!

‘Can my friend come too?’ I say.

‘Sure. This way.’

I’m slightly disappointed in the trailer, to be honest. I was expecting it to be full of roses and champagne buckets and cards from the producers and maybe some signed photos from George Clooney, not just look like a mini-caravan with magazines and bottles of Evian and energy bars scattered around. April is on the phone as we enter, and I sit down cautiously on a bench-thing next to Suze.

I wouldn’t mind having a trailer, I find myself thinking idly. Imagine if, everywhere you went in life, there was a little trailer waiting for you to go and relax in whenever you felt like it.

Imagine taking a trailer shopping. God, yes! You could put all your bags in it, and have a little rest, and make yourself a cup of tea and—

‘Becky.’ April puts down her phone and smiles at me. ‘How are you?’

‘Er, fine!’ I say. ‘Thank you. This is my friend Suze.’

‘Hi, Suze.’ April bestows her radiant smile on Suze, then turns back to me. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were OK. I don’t want you getting any backlash from Ant. You have any trouble with him, you let me know.’

‘Thank you!’ I say, touched.

‘Well, I owe you.’ She sighs. ‘I should have picked up that issue at the read-through. Or someone should have. Those guys are idiots.’

‘What will they do now?’ I say, in slight trepidation. ‘Have I really derailed the whole movie?’

‘Sheesh, no!’ She laughs. ‘They’ll write another scene. They’ll fix it. That’s their job. But I’d like to do you a favour in return, if I can.’ She looks earnestly at me. ‘Do you have an agent? Do you need a better one? Would you like a contact? I know how tough it is out there, anything can help.’

‘Actually, I don’t have an agent,’ I start to explain. ‘This isn’t really what I do—’

‘I’d love an agent!’ chimes in Suze. ‘I want to be an extra. I really think it could be my new career.’

April Tremont surveys us both curiously. ‘You’re not actors?’

‘I went to drama school,’ says Suze quickly. ‘I’ve got a diploma. I was highly commended in my modern speech.’

‘I’m in fashion.’

‘We got on the film because of Tarkie.’

‘Tarkie’s her husband,’ I explain. ‘He finances films.’

‘Now I find out,’ says Suze bitterly.

‘So everyone was like, Do you want to watch a film being made, and we said, No, we want to be in it.’

‘So here we are!’

We both come to a halt and look expectantly at April. It seems as though she’s having slight trouble following.

‘So you need an agent,’ she says to Suze.

‘Yes please!’ says Suze.

‘And you need …’ She turns to me. ‘Do you need anything?’

‘I’d love a job in styling,’ I say. ‘That’s what I do. I used to work in Barneys, and I’m trying to make it in Hollywood, but it’s really hard to get a foot in the door.’

‘Bex is brilliant,’ says Suze loyally. ‘She makes anyone look good. Even my sister-in-law Fenella, who believe me …’ She makes a face.

‘She’s got good shoulders,’ I say. ‘You just have to focus on the shoulders.’

‘OK,’ says April thoughtfully. ‘Well, how about this? I have a friend who’s a stylist and she’s run ragged. I know she’s always looking for talented people to work with her. How about I fix up a meeting for you?’

‘That would be amazing!’ I gasp. ‘Really?’

‘We’ll both be at the Actors’ Society Awards, Friday night. How about I get you a ticket? I’ll get you both double tickets. It’s a fun evening.’

‘Thank you!’ I grin delightedly at Suze. ‘Thank you so much!’

‘My friend’s name is Cyndi.’ April scribbles the name on a piece of paper. ‘She’ll be there with her new client. You can meet her too. Maybe you guys will all end up working together!’

‘Wow!’ I take the piece of paper. ‘Thanks. Who’s her new client?’

‘Lois Kellerton,’ says April, and I freeze. I’m aware of Suze opening her eyes wide and I try desperately to ignore her.

‘What’s up?’ says April, sensing the tension. ‘Do you know Lois?’

‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘Not at all. No. Never met. Why would I have met Lois Kellerton?’ I give a shrill, unnatural laugh.

‘OK. Well, Lois’s lovely,’ says April. ‘We’re friends too, in fact we’re neighbours. We’ve both lived on Doheny Road for ever. You’ll get along great.’

This is the first time I’ve heard anyone describe Lois as ‘lovely’ and April clearly notices my surprise.

‘What is it?’ she says.

I know I should keep my mouth shut, but I can’t resist it.

‘It’s just I heard Lois was … tricky to deal with?’ I venture. ‘Isn’t her new film running into problems?’

April sighs. ‘I wish Lois didn’t have this reputation. She’s a wonderful girl. And the film will be wonderful. It’s the story of the early female athletes, you know, using some original footage from the Olympics. So smart. And yes, there have been glitches, but every movie has glitches.’

‘Sorry,’ I say awkwardly. ‘I didn’t mean to … I just heard …’

‘I know.’ April drops her hands as though in exasperation. ‘Everyone says the same. The thing is, Lois’s bright, she expects high standards, and she doesn’t necessarily win herself friends. But you’ll like her. I’m sure you will.’

A text bleeps in her phone and she reaches for it. ‘Sorry, I have to go. Give your address to my assistant and I’ll messenger the tickets over. Let yourselves out when you’re ready.’

She heads out of the trailer, clumping down the steps in her Uggs, and Suze and I just stare at each other.

‘Lois Kellerton,’ says Suze at last. ‘Oh my God, Bex.’

‘I know.’ I rub my head. ‘Freaky.’

‘What will you say to her? I mean, about … you know.’

‘I’ll say nothing. It never happened, OK? And I never told you, either.’

‘All right.’ Suze nods fervently, then looks up. ‘Hey, what will Luke say about you meeting Lois? Isn’t Lois Sage’s big nemesis? Aren’t you supposed to be on Team Sage?’

Oh God. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten all about that. Damn. I reach for an energy bar, thinking hard. OK, so it’s not ideal. If I could have chosen any other celebrity, I would have. But I can’t turn down this amazing chance. I can’t.

‘Luke will be completely supportive of my career,’ I say at last, a bit more firmly than I feel. ‘I mean, we don’t both have to be on Team Sage, do we? We can have Chinese whatsits.’

‘What?’ Suze looks blank. ‘Fortune cookies?’

‘No!’ I can’t help giggling. ‘Walls. Where you’re on different sides but it’s OK because you don’t pass on any secrets.’

‘Walls?’ says Suze mistrustfully. ‘I don’t like the idea of walls. You shouldn’t have walls in a marriage.’

‘Not real walls, Chinese walls.’

Suze doesn’t look convinced. ‘I still don’t like it. I think you should be on the same side.’

‘Well, so do I,’ I say defensively. ‘But what am I supposed to do? I tried styling Sage and she wasn’t interested.’

‘Style a different celebrity, then.’

‘Who? They’re not exactly queuing up for my services, are they?’ I feel a bit ratty with Suze, partly because I know she’s got a point. ‘Look, it’ll be fine. It’ll be like that film where the husband and wife are opposing lawyers in the courtroom, but when they’re at home everything’s fine and lovely.’

‘What film?’ says Suze suspiciously.

‘Er … you know. That one.’

I’m making this up as I go along, but I won’t admit it.

‘What’s it called?’ demands Suze.

‘It doesn’t matter what it’s called. Look, I’m only in Hollywood once, Suze. I have to at least see if I can make it as a stylist.’ As I say the words, I realize how much I’ve been wanting this opportunity; how disappointed I’ve been at all my failures. And now a real, proper chance is within my grasp. ‘Luke will understand,’ I add. ‘I’ll work it out with him somehow. It’ll all be OK.’