The girl in black raises her eyes to mine disbelievingly.
“You ate a prop?”
“I didn’t mean to!” I say hurriedly. “I thought it was fake, and I was just biting it to prove it—”
“I knew it wasn’t fake,” puts in Suze. “I told her. I said, no fake cake could be that good—”
“Yes, it could!” I object. “They have amazing modern technology.”
“Not that amazing—”
“Anyway.” A thought suddenly occurs to me. “Maybe it’s a good thing. Because would they actually have that many cakes?” I appeal to Ant. “Six is a lot for two people. You don’t want them to look greedy, do you? You don’t want the audience thinking, No wonder Lady Violet needs a corset, if she’s eating all these cakes—”
“Enough!” Ant flips out. “Get these girls off my set!” He glares at Don. “I don’t care who they are, they’re banned.”
Banned? Suze and I exchange shocked looks.
“But we’re going to be extras!” says Suze in dismay.
“I’m really sorry we disturbed you,” I say hastily. “I didn’t mean to eat the cake. I won’t eat anything else.”
“Ant, listen a moment,” Don says soothingly. He hurries over and starts murmuring in Ant’s ear.
I can see Ant shooting us baleful looks, but at last he puffs angrily and says, “Fine. Whatever. I need to get going.”
I’m holding my breath as Don returns to us and firmly ushers us away from the set.
“Can we still be extras?” demands Suze anxiously.
“Of course!” he says, smiling tensely. “No problem. Let’s just get you to wardrobe and then … well. What I would recommend is that in the upcoming scene you take more of a backseat role.”
“You mean, don’t talk to the director,” says Suze. “And don’t eat the props.”
“That kind of thing.” He nods.
“Hear that, Bex?” Suze nudges me. “No scoffing the set.”
OK, I’m going to make amends. I’m going to be really quiet and unobtrusive on set. Or at least as unobtrusive as I can be, bearing in mind I’m in a curly red wig, blackened teeth, a hoop skirt, and a laced bodice, which makes my boobs look … well, “prominent” would be one word. “Ridiculous” would be another.
My makeup was slapped on in about five seconds by a girl listening to an iPod, but, still, I’m transformed! I look dirty, grimy, wrinkled, and kind of scary. As for Suze, she looks like an old crone. She’s got a black matted wig and some kind of tooth plate, which changes the shape of her mouth, and warts all over her hands. She’s walking around with a limp and, honestly, she looks just like a pirate. I’m not doing a limp, but I think I might do a little palsied shake in my hands. Or a twitch. A very subtle one.
We’ve been put in a side room and all the other extras are sitting around reading books and looking bored, but I’m roaming about, staying alert. The only slight downside is I haven’t yet managed to speak to anyone about job opportunities in wardrobe. Renée Slattery is nowhere to be seen, and all the wardrobe staff are quite harassed. I asked a question about my petticoat length, and the girl in charge said, “Doesn’t matter. Next?”
Doesn’t matter? How can a petticoat not matter?
Then I asked her how she got into her job, and she said, “I was idiot enough to want to get up at five A.M. my whole life,” which is not an answer, and shooshed me along.
“Background actors!” The second AD, Dino, is standing at the door. “Background actors to set, please!”
Ooh! That’s us!
As we file through the soundstage and onto the set, I feel a sizzle of excitement. It’s really happening! I’m going to be in a film! This set is far bigger than the last one and is the inside of a ship’s cabin. There are about ten extras, including Suze and me—all women—and according to a conversation I overheard just now, this is a key, important scene.
A key, important scene! What if it becomes one of those really famous movie scenes that gets shown on the telly all the time and I’m in it! What if I get discovered! I feel a ridiculous flicker of hope. I mean, I know I’ve never seriously considered acting as a career, but what if I have the right face for film and I never realized it before?
I’m gripped by a vivid fantasy in which Ant suddenly stops the shooting and focuses the camera on me, then turns to his assistant and says simply, My God. Look at her cheekbones.
I mean, OK, I know it’s not that likely. But I do have quite good cheekbones, and everything’s different when you look at it through a camera and—
“Bex!” Suze prods me. “Dino’s calling you!”
I hurry over to Dino and look expectantly at him, hoping he might say something like, I’d like to audition you for the small part of Pirate Princess.
“OK, you. Cake-eater girl.” He looks up from a list.
Cake-eater girl?
“I’m called Becky,” I tell him.
“Nice.” He’s clearly not listening. “Now, I’m placing you where Ant can’t see you. We don’t want him wound up any further. You’ll be polishing Gwennie’s shoes with this rag, and you stay in this position the whole scene. Keep your face down, away from the camera. Got it? Away from the camera.” He turns away, summoning the next girl, and I stare at him, crestfallen.
Away from the camera? But no one will see me. What about my family? I want to wail. How will they know it’s me?