that we can move –’
But Felix had moved on. ‘Apparently there is a café just round the corner. How about we take half an hour now, and then, if the sofa’s not sorted, move on to the next location –’ he glanced across at Natalia. ‘Which is where? The theatre?’ He glanced around at the crew for confirmation. ‘So, café then? It’s not looking like we’re going to get much in the way of comps from the ice queen behind reception there. I would have settled for a plate of fucking ham sandwiches for God’s sake.’
Ms Mackenzie glared in their direction; she had frosted over considerably since her big moment on screen.
‘So you don’t want to go upstairs?’ Helen said.
Felix and Natalia both swung round.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ Natalia blustered. ‘I thought you’d already gone up, Felix and I have been here a while, doing a recce, your suite – the best sofa, you know –’ She giggled and blushed, which made Helen wonder if maybe she fancied Felix. ‘Would you like to go upstairs and see your suite, take a look around, get unpacked? Get settled? Are you hungry? I’ll get them to organise some food for you – and then are you okay with what we’re doing this afternoon? You have got a copy of the schedule, haven’t you?’
Helen smiled. Natalia talked to her as if she might be senile. ‘I’m fine; you do understand that I’ve got a live show tomorrow night, don’t you?’
Felix and Natalia glanced at each other. ‘Well, yes,’ said Natalia after a second or two.
‘And that’s not something we can mess with,’ said Helen firmly. ‘We’ve got a full house, and I have to be there for a technical run-through, sounds checks, lighting –’
Felix nodded. ‘Okay, okay, we get the picture; not a problem. That was one of the reasons why we got you here today. Obviously we’re going to want to talk about how it all started. Road to stardom and all that. And we talked to your agent and he said it would be fine to do that in the theatre?’
Helen nodded. ‘I know, and I’m okay with that. But I’ll still need to spend time there getting ready for the show.’
‘Oh yes, of course, obviously,’ said Felix, without a shred of sincerity.
‘So let’s get you some food; would you like room service or would you prefer to have something in the restaurant?’ Natalia asked taking her arm, making as if to guide her towards the stairs. ‘Apparently the chef here is really good.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I can sort it out,’ said Helen, disentangling herself. ‘You go and eat with the crew. It’ll give me a chance to get my bearings.’
Natalia hesitated. ‘I’m not sure –’
‘I’ve got some calls to make.’
Natalia looked her up and down. ‘You sure you’ll be okay with that? I really ought to stay with you. It’s our company policy.’
Helen smiled ruefully, wondering what Ruth had told Natalia about her drinking habits.
‘I’ll be fine. What time are we going to start again?’
Natalia glanced across at Felix. ‘What time?’
Felix broke off the monologue he was subjecting the cameraman to on the importance of ambience, and glancing at his watch said, ‘Say three quarters of an hour? But don’t worry, we’ll come up and find you when we’re ready.’
‘Is that okay?’ Natalia asked, brightly.
‘Fine,’ said Helen.
Finally given the go-ahead, Christov guided Helen towards the lift. He grinned. ‘So you, you’re like a big TV star then, eh? ?’
Helen laughed. It wasn’t quite the deferential approach she might have expected and she was glad. ‘Not really, not these days, but thanks for asking.’
Christov pulled a comic sad face. ‘That’s a big pity. I was hoping that you might help me to get my face onto the film.’ He struck a pose to make the most of his profile and then indicated the crew, as the lift doors closed behind the two of them. ‘I was hoping that meeting you, this might be my big break. I sing too, you know, you like to hear me sing maybe?’
Helen smiled. ‘I’m not sure that singing to me would help further your career.’
‘But you can pull strings.’
Helen raised her eyebrows. ‘Not any worth pulling.’
He looked hurt. ‘That’s a big pity. Okay, so maybe now is not the moment, but before you leave you listen, yes? You like Frank Sinatra?’
The lift made silent stately progress to the third floor, the doors gliding open like oiled silk as they reached their destination.
‘You’re really planning to sing for me?’ she laughed as the lift doors re-opened.
‘I think it would be a very good idea. What about your husband? Is he coming? I have seen him in the newspapers, very pretty, maybe you both like music. I will sing for you both, something lovely – Dean Martin maybe. You know him?’ Grinning, he burst into the opening bars of ‘That’s Amore’.
Helen took another look at him and laughed. ‘Thank you, that is wonderful. Now where do you recommend that I eat?’
‘You think so?’ Christov said brightly, rolling the luggage trolley ahead of him and unlocking the doors to her suite. ‘I like them all, Sinatra, Sammy Davis Junior, Dean Martin and that Mack the Knife song –’ he shimmied his hips and sung a line or two of the chorus, ‘it’s very good, very good indeed. They don’t write songs like that any more – Beyoncé, ‘Single Ladies’ – what is all that?’
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