Chapter 14 - part ii

[girlyswot]

Author's note: This one's for all of you who've been patiently waiting to find out what everyone else is doing...

Lawrie, meanwhile was thoroughly enjoying life.  The casting director for a new TV series had been utterly captivated by her and was in the process of demanding a rewrite that would give Lawrie twice as much screen time.  Much, much more exciting than this was the idea of working with Michael More.  Even Nicola must have heard of Michael More, thought Lawrie gleefully.  Star of the most successful British films over the last ten years, he was being hailed by all as the new Olivier.  And Lawrie was going to be in the same programme as him.

Taller than she'd realised, and leaner, nonetheless Michael More was instantly recognisable by the curl of his lips and the slant of his eyebrow.  Lawrie bounced up to him and introduced herself.

'I'm Lawrie Marlow.  I'm going to be playing Lydia.  You don't look nearly old enough to be my father.'

He grinned.  'Flattery will get you everywhere, Lawrie Marlow.  And let me tell you, you certainly don't look young enough to be my daughter.'  Lawrie frowned, trying to work out whether there was any compliment lurking.  He laughed and pinched her chin.  'Run along and tell Janet I'll be another ten minutes with the Press.  They can start the read-through without me if she likes.'

'Can't I come and meet the Press with you?'

'No you can't.'  He sounded cross and Lawrie thought she'd better not push her luck any further.

 

The first read-through was terrible.  The woman who played Lawrie's mother had a cold and sounded squeaky and hoarse by turns.  The other young actors all seemed to be suffering acute embarrassment at the company they found themselves in.  Only Lawrie was enjoying herself.  She caught Michael's eye and instinctively he grinned back at her.

 

Rehearsals over and a throughly nasty dressing down for everyone from the director, Lawrie picked up her things and made as if to leave.

'Not so fast.'  It was Michael More.

She waited, wondering what on earth he wanted to say to her.

'You weren't bad today.'

Lawrie bit back her usual self-congratulatory comment.  'Thank you.'

'Compared to the others, anyway.'

Lawrie prudently refrained from giving her own thoughts on the rest of the cast.  There was a pause while she became increasingly conscious of his eyes gazing on her face.

'Is that all?'

He stepped aside at once.  'That's all.  See you tomorrow.'

'Bye.'  She rushed out, dropping half her script and having to pick it up all in a muddle, still under his ironic gaze.

 

The next day, Lawrie found she was by turns excited and terrified about seeing him again.  No doubt she liked him.  And, she was almost certain, he liked her.  But… he was so much older, and married.  Lawrie skimmed over this uncomfortable fact quickly and went back to remembering what he'd said and how he'd looked and pleasurably wondering what she would say when she saw him again.

 

But he wasn't in that day.  Rehearsals had become more focussed.  Lawrie spent most of her time with the other girls who played her sisters.  Even those who were older than Lawrie seemed inclined to be giggly and, she thought, rather childish about working with famous people.  No, she told them firmly, they couldn't ask Michael More for his autograph.  Nor Lynda Kennedy.  Nor Terry Green.  Perhaps they'd be better off making sure they knew their parts after their embarrassing performances at the read-through she added, in her most crushing voice.

 

In fact it was a week before she saw Michael again.  He'd grown a small moustache for his role.  Lawrie teased him about it but privately thought it was rather dashing.  Over coffee, she was struggling with the crossword when he sat down beside her.

'Give us a clue.'

Immediately Lawrie began to mime a film camera and indicated three words.  He laughed but played along, making the most ridiculous guesses as her efforts became more and more dramatic until the pair of them were in fits of giggles.

'Oh stop.  I've got to go on in a minute and my face is all red.'  He studied it seriously.

'Yes.  Plus you've biro marks all down your cheek.'  He traced the marks with his finger, very casually and Lawrie struggled with herself to breathe normally.

'I'd better go and wash.'  She stood up, uncertainly.

'Yes.'  He picked up her paper and the pen and began to fill in the gaps quickly and confidently.

 

It wasn't until the final day of filming that Michael finally asked Lawrie to join him for a drink.

'I'm going to miss you.'  He sounded surprised.

'Are you?'  Lawrie was desperately trying not to show how much she minded.

'It's been fun.'

'Yes.'

'What are you doing next?'

She struggled to remember.  'As You Like It.  At Chichester.  But not for a couple of weeks.  I'm going home for a bit first.'

'Where's home?'

'Dorset.'

'And what will you find to do in Dorset?'

'Ride.  Swim.  Visit my twin and her hordes of children.'

'Hordes?'

'Four.'

'She is quite different from you, your twin?'

'Nicola.  Well, we look pretty much the same.'  He smiled.  'But yes otherwise quite different.  When we left school, I went to RADA and Nick sailed round the world single-handed.  Then she married Patrick and she's been having babies ever since.'

'There are just the two of you?'

'No.  Nick and me, we're the youngest.  Then Peter, he's in the Navy.  Then Gin, Ann, Rowan, Karen and Giles.  He's in the Navy too.  So's Father.  Karen's married with three stepchildren.  Rowan's a farmer.  Ann's a nurse.'

'And… Gin, is it?'

'Gin-short-for-Virginia.  She doesn't really do anything.  She married a terribly rich man but s'far as I can see, he pretty much lives in New York and works and she lives in London and goes shopping.'

'And you?'

'What about me?' Lawrie was confused.

'Are you married?'

'No.'  Her voice seemed to have disappeared.  She tried again.  'No.  Are you?'

'Yes.  I have a wife and two daughters.  Much younger than you,' he added before Lawrie could comment.

'What are their names?'  She tried to sound as if it was mere polite interest.

'Carla and Polly.  My wife is Maria.'

Lawrie stared into her drink, unable to think of anything to say.  Suddenly she jumped as she felt a warm, strong hand press itself over hers.

'Lawrie,' a voice whispered close to her ear.  'I think we could have a lot of fun together in the next two weeks.  Much, much more than you could have in Dorset.'  She gulped.  'I'm not making any promises.  I've told you all the truth about me.  But I think you'd like to, and I know I would.'  She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the beermat, desperately trying to think clearly.  But then his other hand touched her jaw and turned her face up to his and she was lost.

 

Comments

[colne-dsr.livejournal.com]

Don't do it, Lal! It'll end in tears.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my goodness. I'm not sure Lawrie would end up as a total victim here, however. She is just about self-centred enough not to give a toss about Michael's wife and daughters, isn't she? And she isn't a teenager here, she's old enough to know what she's doing.

[nzraya.livejournal.com]

'I think we could have a lot of fun together in the next two weeks. '

Classic bounder-ese! Love it. Really enjoyed the reference to Give Us A Clue as well -- I miss that show!