My Pear-Shaped Life. Carmel HarringtonЧитать онлайн книгу.
to be made.
Greta grabbed her résumé and headshot folder from her handbag and walked to the centre of the room. She stood in front of the panel, who were seated behind a long rectangular desk. Louise Cavendish, a casting director, sat at one end. Greta had auditioned for her a few times and she’d also taken one of her workshops. And while it was never promised outright, rumour had it that by attending a course taught by Louise you had a better chance at being picked for a role cast by her. It cost Greta a full month’s wages to go to it, so she hoped the rumours were true.
Greta smiled in Louise’s direction. She got nothing in return. Not even a cursory nod of acknowledgement. So she turned her attention to the guy in the middle. He looked as though he was no more than sixteen years old and was more interested in his phone than in Greta. A little less brightly, Greta smiled at the last member of the panel, a woman who was wearing earrings the size of satellites. Earring lady just shook her head in response to her smile, then looked away.
Why didn’t they say something? I should say something. This must be a test to see if I can channel Clara!
‘Hey everyone.’ It might not have been fierce, but at least it sounded more confident than she felt. She wiped a bead of sweat that had pooled above her lip with the back of her hand and willed her body to cool down. Her body ignored every plea she whispered, until her face was covered in a layer of sweat that dribbled down her double chin, landing in big plops onto her black tunic top. The panel began to whisper to each other, glancing back and forth towards her.
Louise was the first to speak. ‘Would you like a napkin?’ She waved a white tissue in her direction.
Greta nodded and bit her lip. She needed to pull herself together, fast. She walked over to Louise and took the tissue, which disintegrated into mush within seconds when she dabbed her face.
‘We’re going to need a bigger boat,’ Greta joked in her best Sheriff Brody voice from Jaws.
Laughter. Thank God.
Louise handed her the full pack of tissues. Greta nodded her thanks, then walked at a snail’s pace back to her mark, mopping her face as she went.
‘Would you like a glass of water?’ the man-child asked. His face had landed on a sneer.
Greta felt that she was in danger of losing them before she’d even started. She had to take control of the situation. So she straightened her back and said, ‘No thank you. I’m excited to read for you. I have never felt more connected to a part before. I am Clara. Albeit a sweaty one right now. But that’s real life for you. If Clara had been through my commute of a flight, the Gatwick Express, and then two Tube rides that frankly felt like an endurance test, then she’d be …’ She motioned towards her soggy face.
‘The Tube was like a sauna this morning,’ Man-child agreed.
‘Why do you think you’re a good fit for Clara?’ Earring lady asked.
‘Well, to start with, I look like her. Or at least how you described her, and how I read her in the script. She’s sassy. She’s got style. I’m the same size as her – not Bridget Jones fat – which has to be a plus.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Louise asked.
‘Bridget Jones was meant to be overweight. But clearly in the movie she was just an average-sized woman. I mean if Bridget Jones is fat, what does that make me? Actually, don’t answer that.’
Earring lady smiled. ‘You know what bugs me every Christmas? The way everyone keeps referring to Natalie in Love Actually as chubby and plump! Martine McCutcheon has a lovely figure.’
‘Yes! I felt sorry for Aurélia’s sister in that movie. They described her as Miss Dunkin’ Donut 2013. And pretty much said that she was too fat and ugly to get a man,’ Greta said. ‘Mind you, she was a bit weird the way she kissed Colin Firth.’
Heartened by their laughter, Greta continued, ‘I want to assure you that most days I can pull this look off.’ Greta laid her headshot and CV onto the table in front of them. She was proud of that photograph. She looked like herself, just the very best version possible.
They picked it up and passed it from one to the other.
‘Actually, this is how I saw Clara in my mind’s eye,’ Earring lady said to Louise and the man-child.
Louise said to her panel, ‘By the way, Greta played the part of that cute kid in the biscuit Christmas advert.’
‘I love that advert!’ Earring lady said.
This was Greta’s only real claim to fame. Her one big TV moment. Twenty-five years earlier, she had been cast in a Christmas advert for biscuits. The advert in question was played for the first time just before The Late Late Toy Show began, one of Ireland’s favourite Christmas TV shows on RTÉ One.
‘You were so cute!’ Earring lady enthused, clearly a fan.
And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. The nation sighed a collective aww when the pigtailed little Greta, in her red plaid pyjamas, filled their TV screens. She walked into her living room, wiping her tired eyes with her little chubby hands, where she found a rosy-cheeked Santa eating biscuits she’d left for him earlier. ‘I want one too, Santa!’ she cried with a perfect pout, one hand held on her hip. Then she snatched a biscuit from Santa’s white-gloved hand. He laughed a big ho, ho, ho, and the advert ended with the little girl winking at the camera. It was an instant Christmas hit, one of those adverts that never failed to make people yearn for yesteryear and good old family values.
‘Say the line!’ Earring lady begged.
Greta put a hand on her hip, then said, ‘I want one too, Santa!’, then winked at them all. They all clapped and Greta took a bow. The biscuit advert that had haunted her for years was helping her out of a tight spot. ‘Twenty-five years later and some things never change!’
‘I like that! OK, let’s hear your prepared piece,’ Louise said, scribbling something into her notebook.
Greta straightened her back and began to recite her Clara monologue. As soon as the first word left her, she felt a familiar shift, as she morphed into Clara. She felt the energy in the room change too as the panel sat forward and listened to her words. This was it. The stars were finally aligning in her favour.
She finished her lines, ending with a perfectly arched raised eyebrow. Greta took a moment to compose herself, then looked over to the panel to check out their reaction. They loved it!
‘Excellent work, Greta,’ Louise said. ‘I really enjoyed that, a truly believable performance.’
‘Thank you!’ Greta said and resisted the urge to do a victory dance. ‘If you cast me, I promise I’ll eat, sleep and dream Clara! I’ll work so hard, I won’t let you down.’
‘I believe you!’ Man-child said, grinning now too. It was an unadulterated smile-fest in the audition room now. ‘Can we confirm that you are available in September for filming?’
She might not know his name, but right now Greta wanted to run across the room, take his baby face between her hands and kiss him. ‘I know I should be all cool here and tell you that I need to check my diary. But honest to goodness, I’d cancel my own wedding to do this show if you cast me.’
‘I told you she was funny,’ Louise said, then turned to Greta. ‘We’ll be in touch. Now go and get a cold drink – you look like you need one.’
Greta grabbed her bags, adrenalin pumping through her body, and she Beyoncé’d her way out of the room, messaging Dylan as soon as she got to the lobby.
Greta: I nailed it! They asked me if I was free for filming later this year.
Dylan: I knew you would. You better not forget me when you get this part and leave Inspector Clueless behind.
Greta: How very dare you. I liv