Authors: Kate Kray
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Rosie dropped her eyes to Andrew’s hands resting on the table. They were beautifully manicured. Realising their elegant masculinity was having an effect on her, she looked up at him again.
‘I shall do my very best, Andrew. I won’t let you down.’
‘I know.’
‘This is a dream role for me. I’ll give it one hundred percent.’ She looked him directly in the eyes, and smiled. ‘Thank you to
everyone
at Straw/Gold. And to you in particular. This is a great opportunity.’
As they touched glasses, Andrew’s eyes lingered on Rosie, and a subtle, but unmistakeably pleasurable sensation, swelled inside her.
‘So, tell me about you,’ Andrew asked, after a loaded pause. ‘Married? Kids?’
‘Well, yes,’ she said, quickly adding ‘but we’re not together any more.’ Rosie took another sip of champagne. ‘I have a daughter. Her name’s Ruby. Twelve, going on eighteen.’
‘Really? I know the type.’
Rosie nodded. ‘Do you have any children?’
‘Yes,’ he relied, nodding slowly. ‘I have an ex-wife, and two step-daughters. My ex lives in Berkshire now with her new partner and the girls.’
Just then the menus arrived. By the time they had decided what to eat, the subject had returned to the business.
‘Ordinarily,’ said Andrew, ‘the director will be taking you to lunch. But as Stella is one of the topics I want to discuss, I thought it should just be you and me. Anyway, you’ll meet her properly at that lunch next week… the one the executive producer and production manager are hosting.’
‘So what about Stella?’
‘Well,’ said Andrew, clearly choosing his words carefully. ‘However stern, authoritarian or uncompromising she might seem, Stella Evans is really a sweetheart. I just wanted to tell you that, for goodness sake, don’t make the mistake of taking anything personally. You’ll have her full support, and you will soon discover that she is a first-rate director. But – and it’s a big ‘but’ – she doesn’t see her work as a popularity contest. She just wants to make excellent dramas, which is something she has an excellent track record of doing. Believe me, she could win awards for this one.’
‘She sounds scary,’ said Rosie. ‘She won’t bite me, will she?’
‘No!’ laughed Andrew. His laugh made her laugh too.
‘I’ll admit, I’ve heard how scary she can be. I was a little nervous… now I think I’m terrified!’
‘I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble standing up to her,’ said Andrew, still laughing. ‘And please do so. She has a lot of time for gutsy characters. In fact, your genuine, East End persona was a major factor in you getting the job. We could have chosen someone more accomplished, but you can’t
learn
that true, street grit. You’re born with it. We wanted to inject some realism in the story… and you fitted the bill perfectly.’
Sitting back in her chair, almost to physically escape the pull of his charm, Rosie said, ‘So how involved will you be in the shoot?’
‘On a day-to-day basis, not very,’ he replied. ‘I will probably be on-set once or twice a month, depending on commitments. I’ll be more hands-on in the post-production, and keep an eye on the editing. I might give a few pointers, but only ever through Stella Evans, never directly. She’s a safe pair of hands.’
The waiter returned with their food, and Rosie watched as the Waldorf salad she had ordered was set down in front of her. In spite of how delicious it looked, she knew she was far too excited to manage more than a couple of mouthfuls.
‘The next subject I wanted to cover,’ Andrew continued, as the waiter reappeared with an enormous pepper mill, ‘is publicity. You were in
EastEnders
, so you’ll have a vague idea already of how much is going to come your way. Obviously, once it’s broadcast, public interest – and more to the point, media interest – will really intensify. My advice to you is to make a friend of the press. Be available, up to a point that’s reasonable. Be charming and accommodating, again within reason. But whatever you do, don’t lie to them. They’re a foxy lot and, if you do, they’ll find out. The last thing you want is for them to turn against you.’
He took a mouthful of food and poured them both some water.
‘I know what I’m saying is basic common sense,’ he went on, ‘and the publicist will go over it again this afternoon. I’m just keen to stress how important it is for you to start dealing with any skeletons that you might have in your cupboard now. A stitch in time saves nine, so to speak. Presuming you have some skeletons – and, let’s face it, most of us do – you could do yourself an enormous favour by outing them now, right at the beginning. That way, you should have nothing to fear from some slimy young hack who’s trying to get “the scoop of the year”.
‘Believe me, Rosie, once you step foot into the public arena, you open yourself and your family up to media scrutiny. Everything’s considered fair game.’
‘I see,’ said Rosie, deep in thought.
‘This is the point at which I invite you to tell me your deepest, darkest secrets,’ said Andrew, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. This is simply to get you to think about what I am saying, so you can assess the situation, before you start spilling the beans.’
‘There is one thing, Andrew, that I ought to mention,’ Rosie heard herself say.
‘Yes?’ Andrew tilted his head to one side, appearing neither shocked nor worried, just mildly intrigued.
‘It’s Ruby’s father. He’s in prison.’
‘Mmm, I see. Do you mind me asking what the offence was?’
‘Drugs,’ said Rosie, reluctantly. She knew that a drugs conviction has a certain stigma attached to it, and saying the word made her cringe.
‘What sort of drug offence? Are we talking serious? Misdemeanour?’
Rosie hunched her shoulders and shrunk back into her seat. This was excruciating, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
‘Serious, I’m afraid. Well, serious enough for him to be sentenced to eighteen years.’
‘Eighteen years!’ exclaimed Andrew, sitting bolt upright. ‘Goodness me!’
Almost too afraid to say the words, Rosie said, in a hushed whisper, ‘Yes, eighteen years, for drug importation.’
‘I see. Well, I’m sorry to say that this is
exactly
the sort of thing I was talking about. You should get it out right from the start. Tell the story your way, before someone jumps on the bandwagon and uses it for their own gain.’
‘Which is inevitable,’ she muttered, looking down at her barely touched plate of food.
‘I’m afraid it is.’
Suddenly, and violently, Rosie was hit by another thought. It flashed into her head with such dizzying speed that her heartbeat actually halted.
The other secret
… the one she had only ever confided in Stevie. Once her face was out there, someone would be sure to recognise her.
‘Until recently…’ she said, then paused.
This could ruin everything
. She took a deep, unsteady breath. ‘Until recently, I was working at a gentlemen’s club called the Keyhole, in Mayfair.’
Immediately her cheeks started to burn, certain that the connotations must already be obvious. ‘My job primarily was behind the scenes, in the offices. But occasionally – well, twice to be precise – I worked in the club as a hostess… greeting clients, taking their coats, showing them to the private rooms.’ Though Andrew’s eyes were firmly fixed on his food, she could tell he was listening intently.
‘The kind of things…’ she stopped and started again. ‘The financial situation had become… Ruby needed…’
She took a sip of water before trying again. ‘I’m not sure if you know what this means, Andrew?’ She paused, hoping she wouldn’t have to spell it out.
‘I think so.’ He nodded. ‘But it can depend on the kind of place we are talking about. What sort of club is the Keyhole, Rosie?’
‘Well… the Keyhole is a little more… how can I put this? Up market than some, I think. Like all the hostesses, I worked… you know… without much on. I can’t speak for what everyone gets up to in the private rooms. I only know what happened on those two nights.’
‘Mmm.’ Andrew nodded soberly. Rosie suddenly felt so ashamed, and wondered if mentioning it was a big mistake. After all, it might never have got out.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ she said, hastily. ‘Honestly, I didn’t. I had offers, but I refused. And if anyone ever says any different, they’d be lying.’
Andrew’s eyes came up and met Rosie’s. It was obvious how ashamed she looked, as his expression immediately changed.
‘You know that I don’t judge you in any way for what you did. And that, if this gets out, you would have our
entire
team behind you… lawyers, everyone.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And now I am going to say something you probably won’t like very much, but here goes anyway – this is exactly the kind of thing that, given the right spin, the publicist will go to town with. You know, they can really turn negatives into positives.
‘If you are willing to talk about
why
you worked there – which, by the sounds of it, had a lot to do with providing for your daughter – then the public will support you. Mark my words. You’re… sexy, you’re glamorous, and it’s a mother’s sacrifice for her child.’
He was looking straight into Rosie’s eyes as he spoke.
‘I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I’m sure that’s how it’s going to read. Men will love you because you look the way you do. Women will empathise, and understand the terrible dilemma that drove you to it – a husband in prison, wife fighting to make ends meet for her daughter… a daughter who has wants and needs, the same as any of their own children. Who wouldn’t sacrifice to provide for their child? With the right angle, Rosie, this could work in your favour. And, I’m ashamed to admit, the production’s too.’
Rosie swallowed hard and lifted her glass. ‘Apart from my best friend, you are the only person I have ever told about this. And you’re right, I can see why it would make a good story, but …’
There were so many thoughts rushing around her head that she hardly knew which to tackle first. ‘There are other actresses working at the club,’ she said finally. ‘I know they won’t be able to keep it to themselves. So, yes, it would be best if I beat them to it. I’m worried about Ruby, though. And my Aunt Madge, who’s more like a mother to me.’
‘Then obviously you must tell them before you give the green light to the publicist.’
Rosie nodded. ‘Actually,’ she went on, ‘I’m more concerned about my husband, Johnny. He’s… um… I don’t know how to put this. Well, he’s a gangster. And he is totally unaware that I worked in a gentlemen’s club. I think if he read it in a paper or someone told him in prison, he’d be mortified. I’m serious, he’d go ballistic. It would be humiliating for him, the ultimate mug-off. He’d kill me.’
Andrew leaned back into his chair. Rosie could see that he was shocked, but was doing his best to hide it. There was an uncomfortable pause. Rosie looked around at her fellow diners. She briefly made eye contact with the man on the nearby table who had entered soon after her, but he quickly glanced down at his coffee.
‘Well, I can’t make that decision for you, Rosie, the decision has to be yours,’ Andrew said, breaking the silence. ‘Secrets don’t always come out, you know. If you want to keep it hidden and hope that no one comes forward…’
Rosie shook her head. ‘That would be crazy. Even if one of the girls didn’t try to sell their story – and I know they will – there are always the men that I encountered. Any of them could easily recognise me. Although, I suppose it’s a bit naïve to think anyone was looking at my face.’
That comment finally broke the tension. Andrew stretched back and looked around the restaurant, his eyes lit with humour. He dabbed his mouth with a crisp white napkin.
‘Probably,’ he said, in a way that made her smile too. ‘Look, you get to call the shots. Take some time and think it over. Talk to your family. Then decide whether or not to confide in the publicist. As far as I’m concerned, it will go no further than this table.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
An hour or so later, as they stepped out onto the street, taking care to dodge the black Hackney cabs with irate drivers that constantly whizzed up and down, Rosie felt so alive that she could have flung her arms around Andrew and kissed him.
‘Okay, so you’re off to see the publicist now,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘And I have a meeting on Goodge Street. Which means we’re going in opposite directions. Thanks for coming today, Rosie. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you a little better.’
‘I’ve enjoyed it too,’ she told him, with an enigmatic smile. ‘Very much. In fact, having unburdened my sins, I’m so relieved that I’m in danger of gushing. So, let’s spare your blushes and make the parting swift.’ Rosie held out her hand.
‘Consider me gone,’ Andrew said, before gently kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You have an extremely busy few weeks ahead, but you have my number if you need it. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the pre-shoot meeting.’
‘I look forward to it,’ she said warmly. ‘And thanks again.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘O
h my
God
! That’s wicked!’ Ruby laughed, her mouth open as wide as the Dartford Tunnel. ‘Oh Mum, you really did that?’ Then she looked over at Aunt Madge, with her butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth expression, her grin widening all the time. ‘Did you know?’