Miss Wrong and Mr Right (31 page)

There was a silence. I realised I was leaning over the table at them. I stood back.

‘Natalie,’ said Craig softly. ‘I totally agree with you, but the fact is that Ryan has missed rehearsals and I don’t think he’s going to pull himself together and be ready… We open in a few days, and if he doesn’t pull it off, people aren’t going to want to see our understudy. We would have a colossal amount of returns at the box office.’

‘And this brings me back to my point Natalie,’ said Morag. ‘We’ve spent hundreds of thousands of pounds. And it’s highly likely that we will be forced to pay it back to ticket holders. I suggest we let this Ryan Harrison go. We have grounds to claim on our insurance policy. Isn’t that right Nicky?’

‘Well, yes…’ said Nicky cautiously.

‘And we would find it harder to get future insurance, our reputation would be badly damaged, we’d let everyone win!’ I cried.

‘I say we take a vote,’ said Morag.

‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘We have had some very trying weeks here at the theatre, but ticket sales are strong, isn’t that right Nicky?’

‘Yes… but we have had a lot of returns,’ said Nicky.

‘What if I said I can guarantee Ryan Harrison is back at rehearsals sober tomorrow?’

‘He was found slumped in the doorway this morning by a road sweeper!’ said Morag.

‘Just give me a few more days. If you’re going to claim on insurance and close it down, what does a few more days matter anyway? You can fire me too. Good luck finding someone who is happy to do two jobs for the price of one, who has the relationships at the Arts Council, who has a vision and passion for this theatre… I’ve just discharged myself from hospital with FAT stamped across my head!’

There was a silence.

‘You’re saying you can guarantee Ryan will be here tomorrow and sober?’ asked Craig.

‘I’ll guarantee he’s here this afternoon,’ I said. Nicky glanced across at me.

‘And he will come to rehearsals over the weekend, and he’ll open next week word-perfect?’ said Craig.

I nodded.

‘This is getting tiresome, let’s take a vote,’ said Morag. ‘All those in favour of cancelling the Scottish play starring the drunk American television personality…’

Morag raised her hand. So did two other members of the board. She looked shocked.

‘All those against,’ she said. Nine hands went into the air. William Boulderstone gave me a wink.

‘Right then. Well, that seems to have delayed the hangman’s noose… I look forward to personally handing over your P45 Miss Love,’ snapped Morag. She pushed herself away from the table and stalked out of the conference room. Everyone followed after her staring at my forehead as they passed. Craig stopped to give me a hug on his way out.

‘Nine am tomorrow, yes?’

‘Yes,’ I smiled. When everyone had gone, leaving Nicky and Xander, I sat down.

‘I didn’t know about this meeting,’ she said. ‘Nat. You really impressed me with what you said, when we’re watching stupid award shows and haggling over the price of beer for the bar, you forget why you work at a theatre.’

‘I meant it all,’ I said.

‘Just one question,’ said Xander. ‘How are you going to get Ryan on stage and sober?’

‘I have to make a phone call,’ I said.

Sharon’s lodger

I was dreading giving Gran back her diamond necklace, which was now in pieces in the grease-spotted McDonald’s bag. When I got back to the flat, she seemed excited that I had stayed out all night.

‘Did you
get lucky,
as the saying goes?’ she asked.
 

I thought it best to tell the whole story, building up to the broken necklace. I made her laugh when I described the awards ceremony, and then gasp when I pulled off Tuppence Halfpenny’s hair.

‘My God! She’s bald?’ asked Gran.

‘Yes, as a coot…’

‘How did she react to you unmasking her?’ Gran asked.

I placed the McDonald’s bag on the breakfast bar. She looked puzzled and opened it. Her face clouded over as she pulled out the parts of the necklace. A few diamonds came skittering loose over the surface of the breakfast bar.

‘I’m so sorry, I’ll get it fixed… It will be as good as new. There’s a guy in Hatton Garden I’ve looked up,’ I said. Gran’s mouth was set in a grim line.

‘That bald bitch,’ she growled finally.

‘She can’t help that,’ I said. Gran noticed the bruise on the side of my face.
 

‘Vat happened here?’

‘She hit me with her award, for Best Hair…’ I said.

Gran stared at the bruise for a moment, and started to laugh. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she had to grab at a box of tissues and blow her nose.

‘You couldn’t make this stuff up Natalie!’ she said, still laughing. ‘Aren’t you glad I brought you to London, all those years ago?’
 

‘There’s never a dull moment,’ I said. ‘Are we okay, about your diamonds? I’ll get them fixed.’

‘Of course. Diamonds are the toughest material known to vooman, your head is far more important. You should lie down.’

‘I will do, but first I have to go and see Ryan…’ I said.

I took a shower, got changed, and after a bowl of Gran’s goulash felt better. Despite our best efforts with make-up I couldn’t quite cover up the FAT bruise emblazoned on my forehead.

‘I used to know a mortician from Whitechapel, but he killed himself drinking embalming fluid,’ said Gran.

‘How does that help me?’ I asked, gently building up a layer of liquid foundation over the bruise.

‘He could take a middle-aged car crash victim and make him look seventeen again… not that you’re middle-aged my darlink,’ she added.

I turned to show her my handy work.

‘You look like a very beautiful girl with a touch of the mumps,’ she said.

I drove over to the Langham Hotel, and went up to Ryan’s room. When he answered the door, it was a tip of takeaway cartons and pizza boxes, cans of beer and empty bottles. He was bleary-eyed and still wearing the shirt and trousers from last night.

‘Can I come in, please?’ I said. He gave me a look and then let the door swing open. I followed him in. He went and sat down on the end of the bed. I opened the curtains, and saw the beautiful view across Green Park.

‘We need to make a decision,’ I said.

‘About us?’ he said shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in.

‘No, Ryan. There is no us. I’m here to talk about you, and the theatre.’

He shrugged.
 

‘What?’

‘First I need to ask you if you want this job?’

‘I’ve kind of got it already,’ he said.

‘Not for much longer…’

Ryan looked surprised.

‘I’ve been showing up every day. I’m doing everything in my contract,’ he said.

‘There was a meeting this morning to discuss firing you,’ I said.

‘You can’t afford to fire me,’ said Ryan.
 

‘The thing is, we
can
fire you. We’ve got good insurance. And then we’d stop paying for this hotel and your flights home…’

‘What is this?’

‘It would be a pity for you because you’ll make most of your money when
Macbeth
opens. And then of course there will be all the casting directors and writers who will get to see you in a different light… Right now you’re the drunk guy who’s been fired. You have no manager anymore. This play is your last chance.’

Ryan suddenly burst into tears, his shoulders heaved as he sobbed. I went over and put my arm around him.

‘What do I do?’ he said.

‘Have you spoken to your sponsor?’ I asked. He shook his head. ‘Well, you should.’

‘Ok, then what? I just can’t stop, I have no one to stop me,’ he said.

‘I thought you had friends in London?’

‘They’re party friends… And I had a mortifying experience with one of my fans.’

‘I don’t want to hear about any one night stands,’ I said.

‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ he explained. ‘There’s been this young girl who’s shown up everywhere I go since I’ve been in London. She was at the airport when I arrived, she’s been outside the theatre every day, and my hotel every night. A couple of days ago I saw her waiting on her own outside the hotel… And I was about to have dinner alone, again, so I thought heck why not? And I invited her to have dinner with me…’

‘And what was that like?’ I asked.

‘Awkward. Her excitement slowly drained away during the entree, she was so disappointed in the real me. By the time they came round with the dessert menu, she made an excuse, saying she had to feed her cat. I’ve never seen her again. She’s stopped waiting outside.’

There was a pause.

‘Do you remember when we were at the farm, and you said you longed to be part of a family?’ I asked.

He looked up and nodded.

‘Well, I’ve arranged just that. For the rest of the play’s run you’ll be staying in my friend Sharon’s back bedroom. She’ll give you food, and you’ll have to do chores. There will be a curfew, and you’ll be driven to and from her house every day. There will be no alcohol or drugs. And if you are found with any, you’ll be fired instantly.’

Ryan wiped his eyes and sniffed.

‘So, do you want to carry on down this road to ruin? Or do you want a chance to change your life and your career?’ I asked.

‘I want a chance to change,’ he said meekly.

An hour later Ryan had showered and changed and we heaved his suitcases down to my car. He was quiet as we drove from Green Park to New Cross, watching the majesty of Central London change to the unvarnished reality of Greater London.

‘And this is still London?’ He kept asking every few miles… ‘Even this?’ he added when we drove up the Old Kent Road, past houses with metal panels nailed over the doors and windows, and boarded up shops.

‘Yep, still London,’ I said. There was no space outside Sharon’s house, so we went to the big Sainsbury’s car park and I gave Ryan a pound, and told him to get a shopping trolley. We piled it up with his suitcases and he wheeled it round to her front door.

‘This seems a nice house,’ he said uneasily when I rang the doorbell.

A little gnome by the pond in the tiny front garden grinned at us over his fishing rod.

When I had phoned to ask Sharon this huge favour, she had been adamantly against it.
 

‘I can’t have
Ryan Harrison
living in my house!’ she cried.

‘Are you worried he might go on a drinking binge?’ I asked.

‘No. I’m thinking about everything embarrassing I have lying around. He’ll see my frumpy old dressing gown with the cocoa stains on the back of the bathroom door, and I’ve got thrush cream in the bathroom cabinet. And my tea towels are a state. And then there’s his calendar in the pantry.’

I explained that the theatre would no longer be paying his hotel bill, so we could pay for Ryan renting out her back bedroom.

‘Please. We’d be helping each other out,’ I said.

‘I can’t compete with the Langham Hotel, Nat! Amy and Felix get Coco Pops for breakfast, and there is always a queue for the bathroom… And often it’s a no-go area after Fred has been, he never opens the window… No. I can’t have my fantasy idol coming into the house and seeing all our reality.’

‘Reality is what he needs right now,’ I said. ‘A routine. Everything is on the line for me Sharon. I’d have him at mine, but I’ve got Gran. We’ll pay you the same rate as we’ve been paying for him to stay at the Langham Hotel…’

I told her how much it was.

‘I’ll have a quick tidy round, and make up the spare room for him,’ she said.

When Sharon opened her front door, she stood in full make-up with her best skinny jeans and jumper combo. Amy and Felix stood shyly a little way behind her.

‘Hello!’ she said. ‘Do come in Ryan. I’m Sharon, and this is Amy and Felix.’

‘Hey, didn’t we meet at the theatre?’ asked Ryan.
 

We all bundled in, lugging in cases. I left the trolley in their front garden.

‘Yes, we did. I had a bad reaction to antibiotics that day,’ said Sharon blushing. ‘All that gabbling rubbish…’

We all went through to the kitchen. Amy and Felix watched Ryan as he had a look round, noting the garden through the long windows at the back.

‘Who’d like a drink? Cup of tea, or coffee?’ asked Sharon.

‘We’ve got loads of booze, too. Mum’s been stashing it in the cupboard under the stairs,’ said Felix.

‘Is it true you enjoy drinking lots of booze?’ said Amy shyly.
 

‘Amy! Felix! What did I say?’ trilled Sharon filling up the kettle.

‘You look much more real than you do on the calendar Mum has,’ said Felix.

‘Dad reckons you stuffed a sock down your Speedos in March, did you?’ said Amy opening the pantry. The Ryan Harrison calendar swung from side to side on its hook. She flicked to March.

Ryan laughed.
 

‘They do a lot of airbrushing.’

‘Airbrushing? Is that cockney for hair brushing?’ asked Amy. Ryan laughed.
 

‘No, it’s when they make a picture look better using a computer. You see right now I have this zit on my nose,’ he said leaning down to Amy and pointing at his nose. She peered at it.

‘Euuuwww,’ she said.

‘Yeah it is euuuw. They can take a photo of me and with a computer and airbrushing make it disappear.’

‘Wow,’ said Amy.

 
The kids looked at Ryan weighing him up. Amy looked to Felix and gave him a nod.

‘Do you want to see my remote controlled Dalek?’ asked Felix.

‘It’s OURS!’ said Amy. ‘Do you want to see OUR remote control Dalek?’

‘Kids, why don’t you let Ryan settle in a bit first?’ said Sharon.

‘It’s cool. I’d love to see a real Dalek,’ said Ryan. ‘I’ve heard so much about them.’

‘Come on.’ Amy grabbed Ryan’s hand and led him out of the kitchen. Sharon poured me a cup of tea and added milk.

‘What do you think Ryan Harrison will want for tea?’ asked Sharon. ‘God I never thought I’d say that! I’d planned egg, potato waffles and beans, but I can’t give him that? He eats at Nobu in Los Angeles.’

‘Cook him that, and make him wash up, it will do him good,’ I said. I took a big gulp of tea and picked up my keys.