The People at Number 9

“He was in the year above me at St Martins. Very talented. Always wanted his name up in lights and now he’s got it. Just a shame he had to compromise the integrity of the film.”

“Compromise how?”

“Oh everything. The aesthetic, the soundtrack, the casting,” said Lou. “That grainy, cine-film thing? I mean, sorry, but yawn.”

“Mmmm,” said Sara.

“And the lead actor? Totally unbelievable in the role. Straight out of RADA, but, you know, he’s up and coming. Getting him’s a coup, so…”

“Right,” Sara nodded, thoughtfully. “Who would you have cast?”

“Oh an unknown,” said Lou. “I’d never compromise the integrity of the film for a ‘name’ actor. It’s just not worth it.”

Sara took a sip of her drink and tried to appear nonchalant. “So, I’ve been dying to ask: what’s your new thing about?”

“What’s it about?” Lou frowned humorously, and Sara blushed. “Well, it hasn’t got a plot as such. It’s not that kind of film. But I suppose, if I had to sum it up… it’s a sort of urban fairy tale.”

Sara nodded. “And it’s a short?”

“Yes. But a short film has to work that much harder to earn its keep. No indulgences. No flights of fancy. Every frame counts. And because shorts aren’t really made for a mainstream audience, there’s a… I won’t say higher... a different expectation on them to deliver.”

Sara nodded again.

“So, forgive my ignorance, but who actually watches them?”

“Well, there are all these amazing festivals now…”

“Sundance?”

“Sundance is a bit old hat, but there are lots of other really interesting ones all over the world: San Sebastian, Austin, Prague. You just hope to premiere your film at one of them and get good notices…”

“So that’s who they’re for, the critics?”

“Well, no,” Lou said, “they’re for everyone.”

“But they don’t go on general release?”

“Well, you’re not really looking for bums on seats…”

“What are you looking for?”

“Well an audience…”

“But not a big audience.”

“A discerning audience.”

“Ah…”

“And enough money to make your next film. Making the things is a doddle compared to financing them. I sometimes wish I’d studied accountancy…”

“Lou…”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering…”

“What?”

“Oh, no, you’re busy…”

“Come on, out with it. Gav said you’d got some writing on the go. You want me to have a look?”

Sara smiled hopefully. “I would love to know what you think.”

“It’d be an absolute privilege.”

“You might hate it. If you hate it, you’ve got to promise you’ll say so…”

“How could I hate it? I would tell you, though, of course I would. Not to would be a betrayal of our friendship, but I can’t imagine someone as clever and sensitive, and off-beat as you, could possibly write anything bad.”

Sara glowed with pleasure. Was she off-beat? She certainly hoped so.

***

It turned into another late night. They were pretty well-oiled when they tumbled out of the taxi and Lou eagerly accepted Sara’s invitation of a nightcap. Neil must have only just gone to bed, because the wood burner required only a little stoking to send flames licking up the chimney again. Sara put Nick Drake on the stereo, broke out the Calvados and the conversation turned, once again, to matters of the heart. Sara found herself reminiscing, dewy-eyed, about Philip Baines-Cass, the boy who’d played opposite her in a fourth form production of Hobson’s Choice.

“He wasn’t really good-looking,” she remembered fondly, “but he had this incredible charisma. He was the kind of person you couldn’t not look at. He was clever but cool and you didn’t really get that combination at my school. I’m kind of surprised he didn’t go into acting actually – he seemed like he was made for it.”

“Probably a computer programmer in Slough,” Lou chuckled. “Go on…”

“Well, so he was this… amazingly gifted actor and I was this stilted little am-dram wannabe, and there was this one scene where we had to kiss, and I would be literally shaking as it got nearer. On the one hand, I was dreading it, because every time we did it in rehearsal, everyone whistled and slow-handclapped and stuff; but on the other hand…”

“…You couldn’t wait.”

“Exactly. So, anyway, it comes to the big night and the play’s going really, really well. You can sense the audience is on our side. Even the rubbish people aren’t fluffing their lines and our big scene’s coming up and I’m just crapping myself. But then it’s like someone flicks a switch and I think, ‘Fuck it’. I just go for it. You could have heard a pin drop. It was amazing.”

Lou grinned. “How long did you go out with him for?”

“Oh, we didn’t go out,” Sara replied, “he had a girlfriend.”

“But you got a shag at least?”

Sara shook her head.

“He wanted to. At the after-show party, but I was a virgin.”

“I thought you said…”