The Best of Times (35 page)

“Perhaps we should move on,” said Sergeant Freeman. “Can you give us your account of what you saw of the collision?”

“Well, this is where I really am going to disappoint you. I fell asleep, you see, and woke up as we stopped and the car behind drove into us. It was very shocking, and of course if we hadn’t been in the inside lane, it could have been very much more serious …”

She was silent for a moment; her eyes filled with tears.

“Take your time,” Freeman said gently. “Just tell us what you remember.”

She proceeded to describe with great lucidity the position of her car related to all the others near her, and to the lorry, and what she had observed.

• • •

“Pity all our witnesses aren’t that clear in their accounts,” said Rowe, as they drove away.

“Indeed. Those letters might be a help. I’m certainly beginning to want to talk to that van driver. Maybe we could get him mentioned on the TV programme as well.”

• • •

Oh, my God. Oh, my God …

Just as well God hadn’t answered that particular prayer, then. The one about the read-through being cancelled. They still hadn’t finally cast the grandmother’s friend and wanted her to do a read-through with the two they were down to, and she’d tried to tell Linda she couldn’t do it. But Linda had told her to get a grip, and thank goodness she had or she’d never have set eyes on … on Him. Not God, but still worthy of a capital letter. The most unbelievably gorgeous bloke she’d seen for … well, she’d ever seen …

Who was he; what was he doing here …?

And he was actually—
God
—actually walking towards her, smiling at her, saying, “Georgia?”

“Yes,” she said, and her voice sounded odd, slightly squeaky.

“Thought so. I’m Merlin. I’m the second assistant director on
Moving Away
. So we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other, once shooting starts.”

“Great!” Not the cleverest answer. But what could you say that was cool, but still friendly, in response to such a discovery? A discovery that you’d be working with someone who looked like a dollop of Orlando Bloom, a smidgeon of Johnny Depp, maybe even a sliver of Pete Doherty at his most savoury? Tall, he was, and very thin, with almost black spiky hair and dark, dark brown eyes and a rather narrow face, and really great clothes: tight black jeans and combat boots and a white collarless shirt …

“Great,” she said again, rather feebly.

“Yeah, it looks like it’ll be fun. Casting director’s been raving about
you.”

Hmm. Bit of a luvvie
. But then … what was wrong with that? They were in the luvvie profession, weren’t they? Her included. In which case …

“Thank you,” she said, and smiled. He smiled back. He had absolutely perfect teeth. “I’m pretty excited about it, I can tell you. Still pinching myself about getting it.”

“Have you worked with Bryn before?”

“No.”

“I have. He’s a great director. And he makes it fun too. Anyway, come on over, Georgia; everyone’s here.”

He steered her towards a group chatting together like lifelong friends. She recognised some of them—Tony, the casting director; Bryn Merrick, the director, of course; but not a rather scarily efficient-looking person called Trish, who was the producer—and smiled politely, moving round the group shaking hands, smiling nervously, saying how thrilled she was to be part of the production. She felt very
shaky, partly because of being with all these brilliant people, partly because Merlin was … touching her. Even if it was only on her shoulder. Well, you had to start somewhere …

“Right, Georgia. A word …” Tony, the casting director, drew her aside. “Now, we’ve got two actresses reading for Marje. Both very talented, both very suitable—it would be very helpful in our decision to see how you relate to each of them. I expect Linda’s explained.”

“Yes, she has.”

“So we want you to read the same scene, first with Barbara, who’s already here, and then do a bit of improvisation with her—and then Anna is coming in later. Same thing with her. Oh, and by the way, Davina—you know she’s playing your mum—is coming in around lunchtime; she’s got a meeting with the executive producer, and she specially wanted to meet you. So if you can hang around for a while—”

“Yes, of course,” said Georgia. “No problem at all.”

• • •

The first read-through was fine; she liked Barbara very much—she was funny and fun, and put her at her ease. But somehow when they did the improvisation it became more difficult. Barbara made Georgia feel rather insipid and too low-key for her own part. She did her best, but it was a struggle.

“Marvellous,” said Tony as they finished, “thank you both. God, this is going to be difficult. Barbara, thank you so much for coming in. You like our Rose, then?”

“Very much,” said Barbara. “We’ll have fun, won’t we, Rose?”

Georgia said she thought they would and Barbara left.

“Right,” said Sue, “coffee, I think. Anna’s coming in at twelve—Merlin, could you get that organised, darling?”

How wonderful, Georgia thought, to be old enough and sophisticated enough to be able to call everyone darling. Especially Merlin …

• • •

Anna didn’t look so right, Georgia thought; she was rather beautiful in a hippie sort of way, with silvery blond wavy hair and intensely blue eyes, and was surely much too young for the part; but she was a marvellous actor. Georgia was amazed at the way she simply put on ten years with the first line she spoke. And she was surprised to find how she could relate to her in the improvisation, far better than with the overjolly Barbara.

Tony said all the same things again: a lot of marvellouses and thank-yous and how difficult it was going to be making a choice. Anna left. The four of them went into another room and Merlin grinned at Georgia.

“Well done. You were awfully good. Honestly.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“No, you were. Tough decision now, I’d say.”

“Yes, I should think so.”

Why couldn’t she say something witty and incisive, for God’s sake?

• • •

They all emerged smiling; she was terrified they might ask her which of the two she had felt more comfortable with, but they just told her how well she’d done and thanked her again.

“Now, Davina’s been held up for a couple of hours, Georgia. It’s up to you, of course, but if you’d like to meet her, she’ll be here about three. Can you find something to do till then?”

Georgia said she’d go shopping and headed for Topshop.

• • •

She got back on the dot of three, to be told Davina now wouldn’t be there till four.

“Drink?” said Merlin.

“Oh—yes, thank you. Diet Coke if you’ve got one.”

“There’s white wine.”

“No, honestly, I’d prefer the Coke.”

“OK,” he said with his amazing smile. “I’ll follow your example.” Now he’d think she was a killjoy as well as boring.

• • •

“Sorry about the wait,” Merlin said suddenly. “I’m sure if you wanted to go, it’d be fine.”

“Well … do you think I should?”

“No, no, I’m sure she meant it about wanting to meet you. But if you’ve got something important going on, I know she’d understand. She really is great.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I don’t have anything to do this evening.”

She shouldn’t have said that; what kind of loser had nothing to do on a Friday night?

“Wish I didn’t.”

No doubt he had to go out clubbing with some glamorous actress.

“My parents’ silver wedding party.”

“Oh, really? Where is it?”

“Elena’s L’Etoile. They’ve got the private room upstairs.”

“Oh … great,” she said, hoping she’d sound as if she knew all about the private room at Elena’s L’Etoile.

• • •

Davina turned up at five, when almost everyone had gone except Merlin. He was clearly an important ingredient in all this, Georgia thought. Well … good. Davina was an absolutely dazzling black woman, with a wonderful wide grin showing big perfect teeth, her fountain of black hair braided.

She kissed Georgia, said how much she was looking forward to being her mum for a bit. “Bryn says you’re a real find,” she added.

“Now, do we know who’s doing Marje yet, Merlin?”

Merlin said he didn’t.

“Go and find out, darling. I’ve got my fingers crossed for Anna; she’s such fun, and such wonderful stories.”

Merlin went off obediently; Georgia smiled at her.

“I love your hair,” she said tentatively into the slightly long silence, and then felt silly; but Davina smiled and said, “Well, I’m hoping everyone will; it’s taken me four days.”

“Do you do it yourself?” asked Georgia.

“Of course. I enjoy it; it’s therapy. Hard on the arms, but—”

Bryn came into the room.

“Davina, my darling, how totally gorgeous you look. Come on into my office; meet Mariella. Georgia, you were great today. And I hope Davina’ll be pleased to hear Anna’s cast as Marje. She related very well to Georgia here.”

“That’s marvellous. Georgia, I’d have loved to chat a bit longer, but I’ve got to go after this. Got a train to catch to Paris.”

Georgia thought how glamorous that sounded, and indeed how wonderful all the rest of the day had been, and then of her own train going to Cardiff, and suddenly felt the nightmare closing in again. She didn’t want the day to end; she really didn’t … She wondered what Linda was doing and if she’d have left the office yet. She might be able to go and see her—she was pretty near—and she could tell her about her day. It would keep the glamour going a bit longer …

• • •

Linda was delighted to hear from her; she told her to hurry round to the office and they could have a glass of wine to celebrate what had obviously been a successful day.

• • •

Mary was up in her room at six o’clock; she had just had a bath and was lying on her bed, in her dressing gown and slippers, before getting dressed again for supper. She liked to do that; it gave Christine the run of the kitchen, and helped ease the general tension. Which was still not easing much. She had spent much of the day reading another letter from Russell, over and over again. It was the most wonderful letter,
four pages of it, telling her how much he loved her and was missing her and how he had been wondering where they should live.

“It will be difficult deciding; we will both want to be in our own countries. Right now I’m thinking we might split the year and do six months in each—buy two houses. Or maybe three months and then a change. You have a rival, I’m afraid—I have fallen in love with Bath and the surrounding countryside—and I know you will love many places in the States. That way we can each see as much or as little of our respective families as we and they wish.”

The thought of having two homes made Mary feel quite dizzy.

She was just getting the letter out of her bag to read it yet again when Christine called up the stairs.

“Quick, Mum, they’ve just trailed an item about the crash. Come on, hurry up or you’ll miss it. And do be careful on the stairs in those slippers.”

She sounded more her old self, seeing Mary as some sort of elderly child. Well, it was better than being an adulteress …

• • •

Linda decided to watch the news while she waited for Georgia. She felt she needed a glass of wine; she was just pouring it when a familiar, a horribly familiar scene presented itself …

• • •

The children were all in bed when Maeve arrived home, still deeply upset at Patrick’s behaviour. Her mother told her to go and sit down in the front room while she made some tea. She brought it in on a tray, together with some biscuits and the remains of a box of chocolates, and then joined Maeve and suggested they watch TV for a bit.

“Put your feet up, darlin’; it’ll do you good. This’ll soon be over, the news, and then we can watch—Oh, my God. Maeve, do you see what they’re doing …”

For there on the screen was some old footage from the crash: the
horrible, horrible footage of Patrick’s lorry, the trailer lying on its side, and the cars scattered about it like toys, and then there was a quick rundown about it, when it had been, how many people had been involved …

• • •

“But two weeks later, there is some good news. The lorry driver is recovering well and is expected to be out of intensive care in a few more days; the baby boy born prematurely is thriving and is going home this weekend; and the famous golden retriever who was lost in the chaos turned up at a farm and has been reunited with her owner. In fact, you can see Bella for yourselves in a couple of minutes; we have her in the studio with one very happy owner. But before we do that, there is one rather more serious matter. The police are still gathering evidence on events leading up to the crash and would be interested in hearing from anyone who may have seen something they feel is relevant that afternoon: a car or van possibly driving erratically—or perhaps some debris on the road …

“All calls would be treated as confidential. They are particularly interested in a young girl who—”

“Oh, my God,” said Maeve. “Oh, my dear Lord.”

• • •.

“Laura, put the telly on quickly. Channel Eight, the news. Don’t ask; just do it …”

• • •

“… a young girl who was seen by several people at the scene and is thought to have been possibly travelling in the lorry, and who has not yet come forward …”

• • •

“Hi, Linda, I brought you a bottle of—Oh, my God, what’s that about …? Oh, my God …”

• • •

“So if you know anything of this girl, or you think you know where she might be, please do get in touch with the police—in confidence. They do stress that there is no suggestion of anything suspicious, merely that in a crash as big as this one, there must be no stone left unturned in the subsequent investigation. And now, as promised, we have Bella and her owner, Jenny Smith, from Northamptonshire …”

• • •

“Oh, Mother Mary and all the saints,” said Maeve.

• • •

“Oh, I do hope Maeve is watching,” said Mary.

• • •

“How extraordinary,” said Laura.

• • •

Georgia made an odd sound; Linda looked at her. She was absolutely ashen, her hand clasped over her mouth. She suddenly sat down, as if her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer, her eyes still fixed on the screen.