The Director's Cut (15 page)

“No coffee?” Callum sounds shocked.

“Ok. Sure.” It’s occurring to me I do probably need one. “
Latte, thanks.”

Callum steps ahead of us to take a selection of drinks and pastries from the van.

“Hey listen,” I say to Lorna, “I’m sorry, about disapproving of you and Ben. It’s not that I don’t think a guy would like you. You do know that, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’m sorry for saying that. I know that’s not what you were implying. I was just being dramatic.”

She gives an adorable little smile. “You’re probably right to be disapproving,” she admits. “But just give me space to make my own mistakes, ok?”

“Ok.” I smile at her.

Lorna clutches her head again.

“Anyway,” she says, “I’m not sure I can spend too much time with Ben in Barcelona. I feel like shit.
This drinking and working thing. It’s not good.”

Callum
turns to us. He has gathered up an armful of coffees, drinks and pastries.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s sit on that fountain.” He nods with his head towards a large fountain in the centre of the plaza.

“It’s probably the only time we’ll sit down today,” adds Callum.

“Seriously?” Lorna looks even greener as we make towards t
he fountain.

“Oh yes,” says Callum. “Filming is a long day. You can wrap at nine, ten, midnight. It depends on whether the director gets what he wants.”

Memories are coming back of Berkeley as a director who pushes actors to the brink.

“And James will probably work us late?” I ask.

Callum nods. “From what I’ve heard,” he says. “And I’ve never started
quite
this early. It will be interesting to see if Natalie can stick to the schedule.”

We seat ourselves on the fountain, and Lorna is looking distinctly nauseous.

“Here,” says Callum. “I got you a Coke. World’s best hangover cure.”

“Thanks,” says Lorna, taking the bottle and opening it with a hiss. She takes a deep chug. “
Huh,” she says, “that’s good.”

She stares up at the morning sky, as if hoping her head pain will magically dispel.

“I think this will be the first and last time you end up hung-over on set,” says Callum. “Take it from me, it’s a long day.”

I gaze out over to where the crew are setting up.

James explained that he’d brought the least possible staff. But it still looks like a lot of people to me.

I can make out James
in the thick of it, pointing out where camera men should set up and directing other crew members to their stations.

Hello baby.

I find myself staring in awe at him as he tirelessly directs crew members who are still blinking away sleep.

It’s all I can do to sit here and drink coffee. I don’t know how he has the energy.

“Wardrobe, hair and make-up,” he bellows suddenly, his voice echoing around the large square. “Cast into wardrobe please!”

Lorna looks at us in confusion. “Does that include me?”

“There’s a list,” says Callum. “It’s pasted up by the big trailer. Come on,” he adds, clutching his giant sized coffee.

Chapter 16

We make it to the list to see that Lorna is scheduled as a fellow diner in a cafe scene.

“You’re due over there,” say
s Callum, pointing. “Isabella, you and I are over here. Come on darlings. It’s time to get the catwalk look.”

He says this last word with a comic toss of his head, and both Lorna and I laugh.

“Ok,” says Lorna, “I’m going over there. I might not live through today, but if I do, I’ll see you later.”

“Small sips of Co
ke,” advises Callum sagely.

Lorna gives us one last
hung-over grunt, and then follows the milling crowd of other extras.

Callum leads me towards a selection of rolling hangers, and I’m pleased he’s here to guide me. I know plenty about wardrobe from
drama college. But I’ve never seen how it works on a real location shoot.

I’m excited though. In theatre, there’s a wardrobe mistress who designs the costumes. But in films, the actors usually get a whole array of carefully
chosen clothes.

I’m dying to see what my character will be wearing.

“There’s no one on wardrobe today,” Callum explains, “because of the reduced crew.”

He doesn’t mention the reason for this, and I feel a usual pang of unease.

“But wardrobe have sent a selection of location clothes,” Callum adds, “and you’ll get to meet the designer back in England. He’s a riot. You’ll love him.”

“There’s a designer?”

I’ve never heard of this. Usually wardrobe is run by a regular person who’s worked their way up from fixing costumes.

Hiring an actual designer is an unheard of luxury.

“Yep,” Callum nods. “That’s Berkeley for you. He employs a designer to make a collection for each of the characters. They’re given all your character notes, everything.”

“Wow.” I’m even more excited now. What will a designer have made of Grace’s character?

We’re by the rolling hanger racks now, and I make out one with Callum’s name scrawled on a piece of card and stapled to the end of the rack. “There’s you,” I say, pointing to a selection of jeans, T-shirts and stylish sneakers. Clearly Callum’s reporter look is to be casual.

I spot my name and approach my hanger.

“I can choose what I like?” I ask Callum, letting my hand trail over the clothes.

“Yep. Whatever you think will work for the scene.”

We sure do have a lot of agency on this set
, I think, looking carefully at the clothes.
Better make sure I choose right.

Based on what I can see, the
costume designer has a pretty similar idea of Grace to me. He’s styled Grace in fashionable work wear with a formal edge.

I pick out a deep blue pencil skirt and matching top with a peplum hem.

Perfect
.
This is exactly the sort of thing Grace would wear in Spain
.

In the movie, Grace is a little control
ling, and insular. I think she’d be the kind of girl who wore semi-formal wear in a European café. Even when everyone around her was in tight tees and flip-flops.

I smile. I’d never realised how much fun it could be to add definition to a character in this way.

“Ready?” asks Callum. He has already slung his outfit over his arm and is holding a pair of sneakers.

“Give me a sec.”

I duck down and select a pair of polka dot flats in a shade to match. “Ready.”

“Ok,” says Callum. “We change
in those cabins.”

I change as quickly as possible. The small cabin has a mirror, and I take a quick glance at myself. The blue pencil skirt is tight, and to my dismay, the outline of my panties is on clear view.

I chew my lip, thinking of a solution. They’re ha
rdly likely to have a spare G-string in the wardrobe department.

There’s nothing else for it. I’ll have to dispense with my panties altogether. The skirt is knee-length in any case. There’s no
t really a risk of exposure.

I tug my panties
off carefully and fold them discretely amongst my other civilian clothes.

I can’t help but smile to myself as I head out to meet Callum. Wearing no panties is like having my own sexy secret. I feel slightly daring as I walk back out into the main square.

O
nce again, Callum knows the drill concerning hair and make-up. Apparently, one of the trailers will be where we get made-up.

“Don’t you have your own hair and make-up people?” I ask
Callum as we make towards the trailer.

From what I’d heard, all Hollywood A-list had
their own staff.

“Sometimes,” says Callum. “But it’s not such a big deal. If I’m on location and it’s difficult to arrange, I just go with the on-set staff. Besides,” he adds, “I’m not in too many scenes today, so it doesn’t matter if I’m not looking
devastating
.”

I laugh, and Callum opens the trailer door.

He gestures that I should step inside first, and I’m surprised at how much room there is. It really is massive.

One
wall is all mirrors, with a table chock-full of make-up and hair products. There are palettes of eye-shadow, foundation, and blush, long bottles of hairspray, and countless other products.

None of them are brands I recognise, and they all have an industrial look to them. As though they were bought in large quantities.

There are huge lights above the mirrors, and it’s so bright inside, it’s almost dazzling. The lights throw out a lot of heat too. And there’s a waxy smell in the air, as though products are already melting in here.

There are two director-style chairs in front of the mirrors.
And to my mixed embarrassment and delight, there’s a chair with a big gold star and my name on the back. Another bears Callum’s name.

A girl around my age stands behind
my chair. She has a perfect hot pink bob and impeccable goth-style make-up, with lipstick to match her hair.

“Ms Green?” she asks.

“Hi,” I say shyly, extending my hand. I’m wondering how she could apply her pale foundation so perfectly. She looks like a box-fresh doll.

The girl
shakes my hand warmly, and the long lashes of her eyes blink. “I’m Kristy.” She has a neutral English accent, which I can’t place geographically.

“Call me
, Issy,” I say. “Please.”

I look towards my chair. “I didn’t know the
y did that in real life,” I say, pointing to the star.

Callum is behind me now.

“Absolutely they do,” he says. “You know what actors are like. We have to be told we’re big stars at every opportunity.”

He stands beside me.

“Kristy?” he says, struggling for the name for a moment.

Kristy’s hot pink lips break into a wide grin. “I can’t believe you remembered,” she said. “It’s been years since I saw you last.”

“I never forget a pretty face,” says Callum. “But you fooled me. Your hair was blonde the last time.”

“Yeah,” says Kristy, grinning and tugging a strand of hair. “I like to keep things fresh.”

“So, you’ll be doing our make-up?” asks Callum.

“Yes
,” says Kristy. “Mr Berkeley said you wouldn’t mind sharing me with Ms Green.”

“Absolutely not,” says Callum. “In fact, I can do a lot of my own. Free you up to make Isabella even more gorgeous.”

“Really?” Kristy sounds relieved. “Honesty. That would be great. I’m on a tight schedule. I was up arranging things for Ms Ennis’s make-up artist, and I’m running behind.”

“No problem,” says Callum, and he seats himself in the chair next to mine.
“Isabella, you are in good hands,” he adds. “Kristy is one of the very best. Mr Berkeley must have pulled some dark deals to win her over.”

Kristy grins.

Callum begins plucking bottles and lotions from the array in front of him.

“You can do your own mark-up?” I say curiously.

“More or less,” says Callum, frowning in concentration as he selects products. “I started on the stage. Worked my way up through a lot of lowly roles. You do your own everything when you’re at the bottom.”

“Oh
.” I take a seat, thinking about this.

I guess Natalie started at the top, and more or less stayed there. No wonder
she and Callum are often at odds. I can’t imagine Natalie offering to do her own make-up.

The door thuds open again
, and another girl launches through the trailer door, brandishing a hair dryer. She has shoulder length hair, strobed with perfect blonde highlights. And her generous curves are crammed into a floral print dress, with a large amount of cleavage spilling over at the top.

She has an unusual kind of face. Not pretty exactly, but kind of cute, in a
n owlish way, with large brown eyes and a chin which tapers away to nothing.

Then again, with Kristy’s perfect doll features, she’s got a tough compare.

“Ms Green?” she asks. I nod, and she gives me a tight nod in reply. “We’ve got
one
of the female cast then,” she says, sounding annoyed. “No one can find Ms Ennis. And we’ve only got an hour to get them all on set.”

She’s speaking only to Kri
sty now, as though Callum and I weren’t even here.

Then, w
ithout another word, she takes two strides towards me, grabs my head, and begins working product through my hair.

I try not to flinch i
n shock as she manipulates my head this way and that.