‘What, it’s turning into Fight Club, is it?’
Sinead laughed. ‘I’ll tell you, of course I will, but mum’s the word and you didn’t hear anything from me.’
Carolyn had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was certain she was going to hear bad news. ‘Sure. Of course.’
Sinead blew a plume of smoke up into the leaden sky before continuing. ‘Hastings wants a clear out of the cast. He wants to bring in new blood. He thinks a young cast will boost ratings.’
‘Shit,’ said Carolyn.
‘Jeff said he thought you were a vital part of the cast and that your character should be at the forefront of any storylines.’
‘That was nice of him.
‘Carolyn and Jeff, sitting in a tree,’ sang Sinead. ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G.’
‘Very funny,’ said Carolyn.
‘Seriously, he’s a fan. And Sally is, too.’
‘Now that surprises me,’ said Carolyn.
‘No, seriously. Sally is right behind you. Lisa was siding with Hastings and I think they had a power play thing going on. Oh, and that little runt, Martin, is with them. He really has something against you.’
‘Does he now?’
Sinead nodded. ‘He said you couldn’t act your way out of a paper bag, but you didn’t hear that from me. He wants you to go out in a blaze of glory, a car inferno or a rape-murder.’
Carolyn gritted her teeth. ‘Bastard.’
‘Don’t worry, Sally knocked that straight back. But you need to watch Martin, he’s got it in for you. And with him, Lisa and Hastings on your back, you’ve got a rough road ahead of you.’ She flicked ash away.
‘I had a feeling something like this was going to happen. So where do I stand?’
‘Sally’s allowing the writers to introduce new characters. And Andrea is going to get a big push. But you and Seb will stay centre stage, for the next three months anyway. At that point, they’ll talk to focus groups and see how the new characters are being received.’
‘That’s better than nothing, I suppose.’
‘Sally’s in your corner, and Jeff is keen to write for you. And you know Paul is on your side.’ Sinead took a long pull on her cigarette.
Carolyn sighed. ‘It’s a nasty business, isn’t it?’
‘TV? Always has been. But it’s worse now that the network controls everything. These days you only have to piss off one set of suits and your career is over. But seriously, Carolyn. Sally is on your side.’
‘Until the focus groups start saying they want more teenagers. Then she’ll have me out of the door faster than you can say Holby City.’ She dropped her cigarette butt onto the ground and stamped on it. ‘Still, I’ve got three months.’
‘And a lot can happen in three months. Network executives come and go, you know that.’
Carolyn nodded. ‘Thanks for the pep talk. And thanks for the info.’
CHAPTER 49
Terry poured red wine into Carolyn’s glass. ‘That better not be Ribena,’ she said. ‘I spent all morning sipping blackcurrant juice.’
‘Darling, this is a Nuits St Georges and it cost Gabe thirty quid a bottle.’ They were in Terry’s home, sprawled on a sofa in front of the television. Carolyn had been shooting on location until nine o’clock, scenes of her arriving at the townhouse they used as Diana’s home and a scene from another episode where she and Seb were having an argument. That had been quite good fun because she got to slap Seb across the face and Harrington had made her do it half a dozen times from different angles.
The house wasn’t far from Terry’s place so Carolyn had asked him if she could pop around. She wasn’t planning on being there for long so Billy was waiting for her outside in the Mercedes. She’d asked if he’d wanted to come inside to wait but, ever the professional, he said he’d stay with the car. On reflection, he had probably made the right choice – Terry didn’t live in the best of areas and there was every chance they’d get back to the car to find it on bricks with the wheels missing. She sipped the wine and sighed appreciatively. ‘Now that is nice,’ she said. ‘Well worth Gabe’s money. Where is he, by the way?’
‘He’s gone to see his grandmum. She not getting any better.’
‘And he still hasn’t told her he’s gay?’
Terry shook his head. ‘The thing is, with her Alzheimer’s he could tell and she’d forget about it within hours. But he says she’s lived this long without knowing and he doesn’t want to cause her any distress now. His mum and dad know and they’re cool about it. About the gay thing, anyway. The dad’s still coming to terms with the fact I’m black.’
‘Seriously?’
‘He pretends to be cool about it, but I can see it in his eyes that he’s not comfortable.’
‘You’ll grow on him, babe,’ said Carolyn.
‘That’s what Gabe says. So dish me the dirt on Richards. What’s the story?’
‘My private dick has checked him out,’ she said.
‘Darling, I love it when you talk dirty. But really, you should have got a better class of detective. You know, Magnum butch or Hazell cute. Maxwell Dunbar is just a sleazebag.’
‘Terry, you’ve got to stop watching those old TV shows.’
‘Come on, Nicholas Ball in the Eighties, couldn’t you just eat him alive?’
‘I think you’ll find Hazell was late Seventies,’ said Carolyn. ‘He was good in EastEnders, remember? Played a gangster. What was his name?’ She grinned. ‘Terry, that was it. Terry Bates.’
‘Who the hell comes up with these names?’
‘The writers?’
‘Yeah, but Terry Bates? How is that a villain’s name? Now Warwick Richards, that’s a classy name for a villain.’
‘But he’s not,’ said Carolyn. ‘Not a villain. That’s what Max says, anyway.’
‘He’s sure?’
‘Says he’s spoken to the cops and he doesn’t have a record.’
‘That’s good news,’ said Terry. ‘I suppose. Or is it?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘It would have made more sense if he was a gangster or had been inside for assault.’
‘Nice guys don’t commit murder? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘He’s handsome and charming. Hard to think of him as a killer.’
‘Ted Bundy was handsome and charming,’ said Terry.
‘You’re not helping,’ said Carolyn. ‘And you’ve clearly got a thing about Ted Bundy.’ She sipped her wine and sighed. ‘I’m so bloody confused.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s still this nagging doubt at the back of my mind it was him I saw in Cohen’s house.’
‘Darling, was it or wasn’t it? It’s a simple enough question.’
She sighed again. ‘I don’t know for sure it was him, and I don’t know for sure it wasn’t. I mean, yes, when I saw him I thought he looked like the guy I saw in the house. But maybe that’s because he’s tall and good-looking and has dark hair.’
‘Carolyn, is it him or not?’
‘That’s the thing, I really don’t know for sure. If I was in court and a barrister asked me was I absolutely one-hundred percent sure, I couldn’t say hand on heart that I was. And what if he has an alibi? I mean, what if it wasn’t him and I say it was and it turns out he was in the nightclub that night and he’s got a hundred witnesses. How am I going to look then?’
‘You’re over-thinking it again, darling.’
‘I’m just considering the options. When I saw him at the charity do, I was sort of sure it was him. At first. But then he sat down and talked to me and I wasn’t so sure. And now, when I think back to that night, it’s Warwick’s face I see. But is that because I’ve met him? I’d been drinking. It was late at night. I might be wrong. And he doesn’t drive a Bentley. He has a Porsche. A Cayenne.’