He pushed past her and slammed the window closed.
His proximity caused her to flinch slightly and shrink away from him. Turning to Becca he bowed his head almost religiously, seeking blessing, and then with a well-practised gesture peeled his toupee off from back to front, letting it fall into his cupped palm where it nestled like a moribund rodent scraped up off a busy road.
Becca quickly checked there were no members of that dreaded species the General Public outside who might glimpse him less than complete, and although they were safe she steered him gently with a stagey gesture about a hand on his shoulder across to the other side of the room.
Here she took the mop of perfect hair from him and began to brush it meticulously. George scratched his shiny scalp with stubby fingers; tiny flakes of dry skin showered into the air around him.
“And touting for work! All that s*** about some play and who’s going to get the part. Who f****** cares?”
“Every actor in England cares, George,” she snapped.
Kate would defend her thespian corner with the fury of a mother fox protecting injured young. He might be the great star of television but he knew nothing of her world, the real world of talent and craft: the stage.
“It’s not just any production, it’s O Jackie, the biggest thing since the stage version of Dances with Wolves. And who gets to play Jackie matters to every actress between at hirty and sixty. This is an Evita of a part. It’s made a star of the woman on Broadway, that Dyane Schotts. It’ll do the same over here. So don’t belittle it.”
“My, my, we are touchy, aren’t we? Just because that little milk chocolate bar kid didn’t think you were leading lady material. Hal Perhaps his granny hasn’t told him about the days when you were a starlet.
That hurt. Anything did that rubbed in the differences between their careers, his riding the crest of an apparently never-ending wave and hers in terminal slump after that early promise. The events that had mysteriously changed both their professional lives and so much else – would be with them, even if unacknowledged, always Kate tightened her lips and determined yet again not to sink to his level. Not in front of a third party, at least.
She took a sly, sideways look at Becca. There was something unnerving about her,the way she watched and never spoke out of turn. As if she had no thoughts or feelings of her own, no personality at all, other than what was necessary for looking after a Major Media Commodity. Everything about her was perfect. Perfect hair, dark brown and scraped back off the face, held in a gold clip. Perfect
manners and an appropriate peasantry always ready to oil the wheels of communication or calm a potentially volatile
situation.
Perfectly polite and perfectly correct. Perfect
clothes. Unexciting and conservative, but always immaculate. Today she was in a tailored cream jacket over a pale blue silk blouse with a classic navy skirt. Not a crease or piece ol fabric Quff marred the effect.
There had been a time when Kate thought George was having an affair with Becca, especially when she was rapidly promoted from typist to researcher to PA and began
to assume more and more responsibility for running his daily life. But that thought had passed; no, she was just bloody good at her job. And so patient. She never protested
pury at his foul-mouthed invective or his attitude to the public –‘the Scum’ he called them.
“Hello. Alec?” Becca was speaking into her mobile.
“ Would you bring the car round. please? Mr King will be, leaving in three minutes Thank you.”
There was a knock at the door. Becca called “Just a moment” , and motioned for him to lower his head. Obediently he did so, allowing her to fit the toupee on to his bald crown again swiftly and professionally.
She checked the effect, teasing a few stray hairs into place, the better to convince, then she nodded at him that all was well and answered the door.
It was Hal Brand, collar loose and holding a glass of wine, He came in and shook Kate’s hand.
