Authors: Graham Hurley

Nocturne (37 page)

Sandra was already there, and so was the company accountant, a
grey-faced man from somewhere in the City. His visits to Doubleact,
mercifully rare, always spelled big trouble. I joined the three of them
at Brendan
’
s little conference table. They were drinking iced water.
Another bad sign.

Brendan launched off. He hadn
’
t been away since Los Angeles but
I
’
d seen very little of him. Night after night he
’
d come crawling in the
wrong side of midnight, never hungry, never thirsty, never wanting
anything except a deep and dreamless sleep. These days he seemed to
live in a fog of near-permanent exhaustion, shrouded against the
outside world. I
’
d tried so many times to get through, it had almost
become a joke.

The file on the table in front of him had the letters CHR in big
black Pentel on the front.
He opened it and I recognised the letter- head of one of our American partners on the top sheet of correspondence.

‘
An op
portunity has come our way.
’
H
e glanced round.
‘
This
may be the biggest break we
’
ll ever get.
’

I tried to focus on my empty notepad, wondering why on earth I
’
d
been invited. With
Home
Run
,
I had quite enough on my plate. Was
he expecting me to shoulder something else as well?

Brendan was talking about some agent or other on the West Coast.
The agent had secured some big name agreements. In principle, stars
of the order of Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise were prepared to talk to us.
Not only talk but maybe, just maybe, contract.

‘
For what?
’
the accountant inquired.

I shot him a grateful look. Someone, at least, still lived in the real
world.

A frown briefly clouded Brendan
’
s face. Then he glanced sideways
at me.

‘
Celebrity
Home
Run
,
’
he said.

At first, I didn
’
t think I
’
d heard him properly. Neither did the
accountant.

‘
Celebrity
Home
Run
,
’
Brendan repeated.
‘
We
’
re having to adapt
the format.
Our sponsors insist.
So do the networks.
’

‘
How?
’
I asked at once.
‘
How do we adapt the format?
’

Brendan steadied himself for a moment and I began to understand
why the last couple of weeks had been so conversation-free. He must
have known, I thought. He must have known since Los Angeles.

‘
There
’
s been a little unease,
’
he began,
‘
about elements in the mix,
chiefly the documentary thing. It
’
s a great concept, kids from the
ghettos, but the worry - understandably - is there. The people out on
the Coast are anxious about the thing getting too preachy.
’

‘
Preachy
?
’
I said hotly.
‘
What does
“
preachy
”
mean?
’

‘
It means they
’
re unhappy about having the show issue-base
d.
They
’
re saying it
’
s a people-
medium, not an issue-medium. And
they
’
re right, of course. That
’
s exactly what it is.
’

I was thinking about Gary
’
s gang from Portsea. Dean. Gimble.
Crater-face.
Jason.

‘
We
’
ve got people
in spades,
’
I said.
‘
Real people.
People people.
’

‘
No,
’
Brendan shook hi
s head.
‘
We
’
ve got a bunch of C2
/Ds from
the wrong side of the tracks. We
’
ve got a social issue here and we
’
ve
bolted on a game show to give it a bit of zip. The game show
’
s no
problem. They love the game show, the shoot-out, the Brecon
Beacon
s,
all that special forces shit,
they think that
’
s great.
’

‘
I bet they do.
’

‘
Sure,
’
Brendan leaned forward.
‘
And that
’
s where guys like Brad
figure. They
’
re queuing up. They
’
re after part of the action. They want
to be
in
it.
’

‘
With the kids?
’

‘
Instead of the kids.
’

‘
You
’
re dreaming. Brad
Pitt
?
’

‘
Sure.
’
Brendan wasn
’
t looking at me any more.
‘
The way it works,
they
’
ll each pick their own teams. An American star, an English star.

They
’
ll go for fellow actors, more faces, more names, more profile.
’
I
watched him smile at Sandra.
‘
The networks are creaming themselves.
’

I pushed my chair back, meaning to get up and leave. Then I had
second thoughts.

‘
Just say I believe you? What about Gary? And Everett?
’

‘
They think it
’
s great, too.
’

‘
They do?
’

‘
Of course.
’
Brendan was pouring himself a glass of water.
‘
It
wouldn
’
t work without them.
’

‘
And they
’
re happy? Just to…
’
I made a hopeless, despairing
gesture,
‘
…
swop boats like that? Mid-stream?
’

‘
Of course,
’
Brendan said again.
‘
Wouldn
’
t you? Brad Pitt? Hughie
Grant? Ken Branagh?
’

I said nothing. Shock had robbed me of the power of thought. Then
the details came seeping back, the small print of the last three
impossible months, the little battles we
’
d fought and won, the kids
we
’
d found, the lives we
’
d change, the stories we
’
d lay before an
audience of millions. All that was gone? Just tossed aside? Because of
some fantasy about Brad Pitt?

‘
We
’
re on a learning curve here,
’
Brendan said briskly.
‘
That
’
s what
development
’
s about. Some things work, some don
’
t. Lame horses you
leave for the Indians.
’

I couldn
’
t stop thinking about Portsea.

‘
The kids would have worked. You know they would.
’

‘
Brad Pitt works better.
’

‘
Who says?
’

‘
The West Coast says. The sponsors. The networks. Everyone.
’

‘
And you ? What do you think ?
’

The question was deeply personal, a challenge, and everyone knew
it. Brendan frowned, sipped a little more water, then reminded us all
that we were running a business. Sentiment was fine, but it was
money
that talked. He glanced up at me. I wa
s absolutely welcome to stay on
board, stay in charge, in fact Doub
leact expected it. On the other
hand, if I found the change of direction
too traumatic, there were other
options open to me.

By this time I was on my feet.

‘
These kids have nothing,
’
I said.
‘
The Brad Pitts of this world have
millions. Where
’
s the justice in that?
’

‘
Justice?
’
Brendan looked briefly pained.
‘
Is that an issue here?
’

‘
Yes, it is. Don
’
t you think so?
’

Brendan wouldn
’
t answer. The accountant looked at his notes.
Sandra was smiling. At length, Brendan closed his file. Those initials
again. CHR.

I bent to the table, my mouth close t
o Brendan
’
s ear. In a moment or
two, I
’
d be gone. But not before I
’
d told him what I really felt.

‘
Celebrity
Home
Run
,
’
I said softly,
‘
is a pile of shit.
’

Brendan and I parted the following even
ing. I hadn
’
t been to work that
day. I spent most of the morning sorting out the
things
I w
anted to take
away and by the time I
’
d finished I was
exhausted. I slept most of the
afternoon, though by the time Br
endan came in I was back in the
kitchen, making myself a peanut butter sandwich.