Scott came with us in the limo, having changed out of the conservative Austin Reed suit which he had worn on camera, into jeans and a sweatshirt, the same gear as me in fact.
‘You’re a lucky bastard, young Blackstone,’ he said, sincerely but not unkindly, as the driver pulled out into the evening traffic. ‘I had to slog my guts out for twenty years in theatre companies, bit parts on telly, Edinburgh Festival crap, and dodgy pantos all over Scotland, to reach my present standing in the profession. You do a couple of years as an MC and a few voice-overs, and here you are getting equal billing with me.’
He shot me an ironic smile. ‘The world’s fuckin’ ill-divided son, is it not?’ I noticed that off-screen, he had a Glasgow accent.
‘It is that, Scott.’ I agreed, returning his smile. ‘Did Miles tell you I won the fuckin’ lottery as well?’
He stared at me for a few seconds, then realised I was serious and exploded with laughter. ‘Ah,’ he spluttered. ‘It was bribery, was it? That’s okay. I can live with that.’
‘Not at all,’ Miles protested. ‘He hasn’t got enough to bribe me. It was nepotism; he lives with Dawn’s sister.’ He paused. ‘That and the fact that he’s damn good.’
‘Aye,’ said my co-star. ‘That’s the saving grace, I’ll grant you.’
At the Treetops, the old actor and I showered off our make-up in our rooms, then met downstairs in the bar to top up our fluid levels. Our denims drew a slightly disapproving look from the barman, but we ignored him. ‘Scott,’ I asked after a while, sat beside him on a high stool, ‘am I doing someone better out of a job? Should I be feeling guilty about all this?’
He laughed. ‘Not for one minute, son. This is the most cut-throat business in the world. . apart from the law, that is. You are where you are by sheer random chance, so accept it.’ He paused. ‘The truth is that there are two other young Scots actors who, I would say, could have played your part better than you, and who have names that would mean something in the billing. One’s working on another movie and the other one’s agent was daft enough to turn the part down because Miles wouldn’t bill the boy above the title.
‘You at least have a recognisable face through your grappling work, and a known voice from your commercials. The part’s no’ too difficult either, so you were a reasonably safe choice.’
A short hoarse laugh sounded behind me. ‘Now is not that an ironic thing for someone to say about you, Oz.’
I couldn’t help it, I gasped with surprise, even before I turned round towards her. ‘Noosh,’ I heard myself exclaim, astonished. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
She hadn’t changed a bit in the three years since last I’d seen her. She was still dressed in the inevitable formal business suit, which seemed to highlight the austerity of her features: the high Slavonic cheekbones, the ash-blonde hair with the odd grey streaks, the silvery look about her eyes.
‘The same as you, I guess. I often drop in here for a drink after work.’ The accent was still the same, slightly East European.
‘Last I heard, you were working in St Petersburg.’
She nodded. ‘I did, for a while. I was transferred back to Scotland a year ago, to head the Aberdeen office.’
I remembered my manners, and turned back to my pal. ‘Sorry, Scott. This is Anoushka Turkel, a friend from Edinburgh. Noosh, this is Scott Steele, a prince among actors.’
The veteran slipped off his bar stool, shook her hand formally, with a short, classic bow. ‘Delighted to meet you. Now I’m going to be rude and bugger off. I like to dress a bit better than this for dinner.’
As he left, Noosh climbed up on his vacated seat. I ordered a white wine for her and another pint of lager.
‘So. .’ I said. Now that we were alone, the awkwardness returned. It had always been there between the two of us — inevitably, since we had both been Jan’s lovers, and in turn, she had left each of us for the other.
‘Yes, so indeed.’ She paused and her gaze, usually rock-steady, faltered, and lowered. ‘I heard, of course. But. .’
‘No point in talking about it,’ I said, trying not to be abrupt. ‘We’ll never compare notes, you and I.’
She laughed, short and brittle. ‘Indeed not.’ Then her eyes caught mine once more.
‘So now you are an actor. It doesn’t surprise me, you know. You were always a crazy guy, and always playing a part, I thought.’
‘Which one was that?’
‘The part of the young, free and single; as if you thought that was how you should be living your life and were determined to do it with style.’ She snorted again. ‘I mean, having a bloody iguana as a pet in your flat.’
‘Loft, please, Noosh.’
‘You see? Another part of the act. Everyone else lived in a flat, but you had to live in a loft. How is your old loft-mate these days? Did you put him in a zoo when you and Jan got married?’
‘In a way. He lives in St Andrews with Jonathan and Colin, my nephews.’
‘And where do you live now?’
‘Glasgow.’
‘Let me guess. In another loft?’
I laughed. ‘No, in an old church tower actually. We have a great view of the centre of the city.’
‘We?’
‘Primavera. She came back from Spain. We’re together, in business and in life; we’re getting married in a few weeks, once I’m finished with this gig.’
There was an awkward silence as Noosh sipped her wine. ‘I see. Maybe this time it’ll last.’ If there was a trace of bitterness there, she snuffed it out at once. ‘What you doing in Aberdeen? Is it your movie?’
‘Yes. Scott and I filmed some scenes today. Tomorrow morning we’re doing some scenes in Union Street. Just me, walking along the pavement through crowds of pedestrians. We’ve got an army of extras standing by from seven o’clock.’
She chuckled. ‘Crazy boy,’ she muttered. ‘Hey, can I be an extra? I’ve always wanted to be in a movie too.’
‘Sure,’ I told her. ‘If you can get yourself to Union Street for seven, I’ll see that you get on camera.’
She drained her glass and gave me a long cool smile for the road. ‘It’s a date,’ she said, as she turned to leave. ‘Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you there.’
Chapter 17
When the phone rang in my room at five-thirty a.m., I suppose that was my real introduction to the world of movie-making. On most days when production is in full swing, it really does involve early starts and late finishes.
It was fun though; the whole crew had eaten at a long table in the hotel, where I was made to feel, for the first time, not like a curiosity but like a fully fledged member of the team. One or two of the technicians even turned out to be GWA fans, and talked themselves round to asking the inevitable question. ‘Can those guys really fight?’
I had never thought of Mike Dylan as a creature of habit, but for the second night in a row he managed to interrupt my dinner. I was in the middle of explaining to the Best Boy, who was in fact a girl, that Jerry Gradi really was so tough that he could crush walnuts with his arse, when my mobile trembled in my pocket. I had called Prim from my room, so I knew it couldn’t be her, but still, I was surprised when the intrepid detective inspector spoke.
‘I’ve got it, Oz,’ he began.
‘What? Paranoia? Social dysfunction? Genital warts?’
‘No you daft bastard. I’ve got a tap on Stephen Donn’s mother’s phone. My boss signed the application this morning and we were in place by this afternoon.’
‘Congratulations. Does she have a mobile as well?’
‘No, but no problem if she does. They’re simple to tap; MI5 do it all the time.’
‘Comforting to know that,’ I said into my cellphone. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything yet?’
He laughed. ‘Well, we know that the principal of her college fancies her. He called her about six o’clock and asked her if she’d go to the Lakes with him this weekend. She said she’d only go if the guy’s wife called her to say it was all right.