Authors: Anne Styles
'Last one in London,' he quipped as Nick dropped a tip into his discreetly extended palm and swept out into the pouring rain 'NGA in Wardour Street,' he snapped at the driver as he pulled away from the kerb. 'Please?' he added, slightly sarcastically, as the driver glared.
'You'd be quicker walking, mate,' he commented, equally sarcastically.
Nick looked down at his cashmere jacket and expensive Italian shoes and decided to stay put. 'Do your best,' he said, for once biting back his desire to snap. 'I'm on a deadline.' And he flicked open the magazine to find the article about the beautiful Miss Campbell, reading it with growing excitement. He was getting desperate, he thought ruefully, if he was resorting to a lightweight children's TV presenter to replace an established star.
It wasn't as if they weren't trying. Since Monday afternoon, as soon as they had realized that Harriet was out of the running, he and Caroline, the casting agent, had searched all the London and provincial agencies looking for her replacement.
From the very start Abigail had been a nightmare part to cast. To find a girl who looked young and innocent but had enough screen presence to carry the technically difficult later scenes of the film had proved almost impossible the first time round. This girl, he thought with growing optimism, as the taxi driver battled through the rain, might well be his last hope. Please God, he prayed, let her be able to act as well as she looked, Do or Dare was an incredibly popular children's programme that had been running for two years, in which the two young presenters worked alongside animal puppets to explain and promote sporting challenges. He knew his own daughter watched it when she was home from boarding-school. Sarah Campbell had been on TV once a week and he had managed to miss her!
She was leaving now, after a year's stint, and the magazine was obviously doing a selling promotion for her, as it reviewed the catalogue of her talents used to the full on the programme. He only spotted the drama still that confirmed she was also an actress as the driver finally pulled up outside the office-studio complex in Wardour Street which was the headquarters of Nicholas Grey Associates, his successful commercial-making operation.
He had fully intended to collect his car and go home at a reasonable time for once, because of an academic dinner his wife was involved in, but the excitement of his find suddenly took precedence over his social life.
Protecting the magazine from the rain, he flung in through the front door - to the consternation of his staff.
'Is Caroline still here?' he demanded of the startled receptionist. 'If not, find her, please,' he ordered over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs to his office.
Sandy grabbed the phone, sensing the urgency in his voice.
Jane Brough, his long-time assistant, looked up in surprise as he swept in, throwing his sports bag onto a chair. 'Nick, for heaven's sake,' she protested. 'I promised Diana. You swore you'd play squash and go straight home!'
'Never mind Diana's bloody dinner,' he answered, pulling a copy of Spotlight from the shelf behind his desk. 'I think I may have found Abigail!' Jane gave a shriek of glee and forgot about Nick's wife for a moment as she watched him leafing through the industry's bible listing actors and actresses.
Thank goodness she was listed - not in "Leading Actresses", where they had been looking, but under "Juveniles" at the back. It was a tiny picture, too, not a bit like the magazine photographs.
'Sarah Campbell,' exclaimed the casting agent as she came in. 'Cradle-snatching from children's programmes - are we that desperate. Nick?'
Yes, we are!' said Nick. 'Charlie and I had a very nasty meeting with the distributors at lunchtime. Caroline, just look at her - she's fantastic! Like a Rossetti painting -perfect period face and that has to be the sexiest mouth I have seen in years!'
'I know of her,' Caroline said cautiously. 'She's an actress, certainly, and I agree she's lovely, but I don't know if she would do those nude scenes. She's been known to turn them down in the past.' She reached over and checked Spotlight then picked up the phone to dial. 'She's got a tough agent; he's going to want big money for her to do those anyway, because it would screw up her children's stuff.'
'If she does Home Leave she won't need to do children's stuff again,' Nick said firmly. 'And Harriet was costing a bloody fortune anyway. Sarah Campbell is fairly new - at least she won't demand the residuals that Harriet wanted.'
'Oscar, darling,' Caroline said sweetly into the phone. 'It's Caroline Geddy - how are you? Listen, sweetheart - Sarah Campbell. What's her availability? Great - email me over her CV, would you? Nick Grey may be interested in her . . .' While they waited for the email to come in Caroline filled them in on the rest of her conversation with Oscar Venner.
'Has he got a showreel?' Nick was still transfixed by the photograph, still unable to believe they could have over-looked this girl.
'He's getting one sorted out.' Caroline made a gesture of impatience. 'He'll make sure he's got the right stuff on it before he sends it - you know Oscar. She must be good he's one of the best agents around.' At that moment Sandy brought the printed sheets in.
'These came in from Oscar Venner for you. Nick,' she said, and dropped them on his desk.
Nick flicked through the sheets quickly. She was taller than he had expected, at five feet eight, and at twenty-four older than she looked, but dancing in clubs, TV plays and commercials added to her Do or Dare stint made impressive reading.
'She's got guts as well,' Caroline commented, reading her stunt list. 'Anyone who can hang-glide has got to have plenty of those!'
Nick laughed, and read over her shoulder, impressed, despite himself. 'Even I would draw the line at that,' he commented drily. 'I think I'd like to meet this young woman - out of curiosity if nothing else!'
Jane, worrying about Diana, slipped out of the office to go and phone her. She knew it would be hopeless nagging Nick to go home now. She was fond of Nick's wife, even if Nick wasn't particularly, and did a great deal to keep their complicated lives running smoothly. Luckily, the bike messenger arrived with Oscar's package at that moment, so she had the package in her hand when she went back into the office, disguising her mission beautifully. '
He must have had a biker waiting,' she laughed as she tossed the envelope to Nick. 'Talk about service!' Nick shook the photographs out of the packet and leafed through them, whistling with delight.
'Get Oscar back,' he ordered. 'Set up an audition time. Jane, what's tomorrow like? Is there a studio free?' Jane reached for his diary. 'The ad agency at nine, accounts here at ten-thirty,' she reeled off. 'Lunch with Charlie Hastings, and the small studio is free until two o'clock.' Charles was Nick's associate producer on this film, as well as his long-time friend and partner in NGA.
'Make her eleven o'clock, if you can, and get James in to do the audition with her -1 really do have a hunch about this one. Christ . . .!' And he held out a sheaf of photographs to Jane as Caroline pressed the redial button on the phone. They were a collection of fashion shots - outdoor shots taken on a beach. Fresh air and sunlight obviously suited her, and the camera patently adored her.
There was one shot particularly that caught his attention. She was leaning against a rock, eye-catching legs stretched out in front of her. Nick had always been a leg man, but it was the expression on her face that caught him. Dreamy, innocent, and yet with a mocking look in her eyes that simply said "Abigail" to him.
'Look, Nick, I'll call you at home,' Caroline was saying as he jerked his attention back to the office with a start.
He had not felt that flash of sexual excitement for years - especially over a photograph. 'Oscar has to check with Sarah, and they're just finishing transmission at the studios.'
'I know.' Nick sighed. 'I must get home. You women do gang up on me! It's only a bloody academic dinner, and I didn't want to go to it in the first place.'
'But it's important to Diana,' Jane said. 'Don't be mean, Nicholas!'
'We'll get the showreel over to the flat,' Caroline promised. 'I'll wait for it to come and bring it myself. Go on,' she urged. 'Go home and make your wife happy for once!'
'As if anything will satisfy my wife!' Nick shrugged, and picked up the file and his briefcase before fishing in his pocket in panic. 'Where the hell did I put my car keys?' Jane found them and threw them to him.
'Stop fussing,' she laughed. 'Go on - leave it to us!' Nick smiled as he crossed the entrance foyer with its display of the many awards the company had won over the years; it never failed to cheer him. In a couple of hours he had gone from despair to elation, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. He had to wait and find out if the girl could really cope with the part in the morning.
Normally he lived alone in his flat in Regent's Park. His wife, a part-time lecturer at an Oxford college, prefered to live in their Oxfordshire farmhouse with their only daughter most of the time. They commuted in and out of each other's totally opposing worlds - aided by Jane's efficiency - and had done for years, managing to astonish their friends, and Diana's disapproving family, by somehow staying married for fifteen years.
If Nick strayed occasionally, Diana confidently lived with it. She was secure in the knowledge that it was her he was married to, and that whatever happened she was going to make sure it stayed that way. As a Catholic, divorce was not something Diana had ever dreamt of considering, and Nick respected her beliefs. She was also well aware that, although Nick was no longer in love with her - if indeed he ever had been - he still had a great deal of loyalty towards her, and was far too attached to their daughter. Charlotte, to risk rocking the boat too much.
Pleasure at the thought of seeing Charlotte quickened his step as he parked his classic Porsche and ran through the lobby and up to the flat. Nick had driven one for years, long before they were fashionable, and clung to it defiantly, despite the teasing he sometimes got for his loyalty to the model - the first exotic car he had been able to treat himself to when his business had taken off.
Charlotte had come up with Diana for the last few days of the Easter holidays, and as he unlocked the front door she rushed into the hall, hurling herself at him and talking nineteen to the dozen at the same time.
'Mummy's cross with you, Daddy,' she chided. 'You're late.'
Nick sighed, and, rescuing the file that had hit the floor under her onslaught, braced himself as they went into the living room. He was sure his daughter grew several inches every term; at only fourteen, she was certainly taller than Diana.
For once Diana Grey swallowed her temper and presented her husband with as serene and genuine a smile of pleasure as she could manage as she crossed the room to him. Quietly elegant rather than pretty, she was always beautifully groomed, and tonight was no exception. He suddenly felt guilty that he had not been out to their Oxfordshire farmhouse for weeks, and to hoots of derision from Charlotte he kissed her with as much warmth as he could manage.
'Sickening how these old people carry on,' exclaimed Charlotte, laughing, happily taken in by his display of affection - though Nick knew by Diana's cool reaction that she wasn't.
'Less of the old!' retorted Nick. 'I really did mean to get back early, but. . .'
'Tell me while you change,' Diana chivvied. 'Bill will be here in a minute to pick us up.' While Nick showered she looked at the file of photographs with a distinct feeling of unease. This girl was lovely, and Nick would be on location with her for several months. The budget was fairly low, by Nick's usual standards, but at least he was saving on enormous studio costs by shooting most of the film at Hastings Court in Wiltshire, which was Charlie Hastings' home.
Charles had, like many of Nick's other friends, been hit by Lloyds, and Nick, being anxious to help him out, had decided that Charlie's home would be a perfect location. He also had the distinct advantage of knowing the estate well himself, since he had almost been brought up there by Charlie's parents while his own Army parents had been stationed abroad.
'What do you think?' Nick asked, coming back into the bedroom, rubbing at his wet body furiously.
'Stunning,' Diana said reluctantly. 'If she's going on location I think Charlotte and I may just come down very frequently to spoil your pitch! How old is she?'
'Twenty-four.' He grinned, unabashed. 'Bit young for an old man like me! She's far more likely to be swept off her feet by James Willoughby, particularly since - if I employ her - they'll have a lot of fairly steamy scenes together, and you know what James is like.'
'I certainly do, and I hope you're right!' Diana flicked a brush through her dark hair and repaired the damage he had done to her lipstick. Already half dressed. Nick came behind her to drop a kiss on her bare shoulder.
'Why should I bother with Beaujolais Nouveau when I have champagne at home?' He knowingly recognized and soothed her fears.
'Bill's here,' Charlotte called through the door as he was tying his bow tie.
'Told you I'd make it!'
'By the skin of your teeth, as usual.' Diana retorted, and picked up her bag and coat.
Following her. Nick was issuing instructions to Charlotte about Caroline's impending visit and where to put the precious delivery. 'I'll ring you during the evening,' he promised.