was a pause as the two men regarded each other across the desk.
‘Hot on the alliteration today, aren’t you?’ was all Hugh said.
‘Aren’t I though,’ replied Larry equably.
Martin shuffled his feel uneasily and adjusted his position in his chair. The conversation seemed to have drifted into emotional waters and Martin was feeling like the proverbial fish. He was well aware of Hugh’s abiding passion for Bella. As was Hugh’s wife, Mona. She had learned to live with it. She knew that by comparison with Bella, she was ordinary, the unkind might even say plain. She also knew that Hugh would never leave her. Bella knew it, too. She had been aware from the beginning that the series was a sort of consolation prize. Hugh was giving her all that he was able.
Bella had had a drink problem for some time, ever since she had realized that her career was not going to go the way she had hoped. She had wanted to be up there alongside the greats, among the great classical actresses of her generation. That’s why she had come into the profession. She was not able to put her finger on exactly what had gone wrong. But whatever it was, it had been compounded by seven years as the star of the most popular drama series of the decade, and the alcohol helped to blunt the keenness of the disappointment. She had been twice married and had had innumerable affairs, nearly always with younger men. Hugh had remained the constant element in her life, a sort of father confessor. They had long since ceased to have physical relations. For him, however, she had never ceased to hold an all-consuming fascination. He admired her undeniable talent, her husky beautifully modulated voice, her voluptuous good looks, but he loathed her drinking, not least because he knew he had contributed in part to her reliance on its dubious comfort.
‘We’ve lost the bite this show had at the beginning. The almost unbearable tension between warring husband and wife. The will-they-won’t-they-make-it situation. Everybody knows they won’t because he’s been floating around with a flotilla of fatuous floozies.’ Larry was getting into his stride. ‘And furthermore,’ he continued, ‘I have spent the morning wading my way through Episodes Ten and Eleven and I am now seized with an urgent desire to find a quiet corner somewhere and hang myself!’
The other two regarded him steadfastly and waited. They knew that this histrionic outburst was simply the prelude to an inspired suggestion. Larry would attack the problem in the most extreme terms and then quite casually supply the solution.
Larry Matthews’s position at South Eastern Television was unique. He was ostensibly PA to Hugh Travis, and responsible for the smooth running of the studios during recording days. But he had somehow managed to engineer himself into a position immediately behind Hugh’s right ear, and had a very large say in the casting, story lines and even budget allocation. He had been at drama college with Hugh twenty-five years previously, where they had become fast friends. When Hugh had reached his exalted position as Head of Series at SETV, Larry had suddenly turned up one day demanding a job. Acting, he had said, bored him. He needed a new challenge and it was absolutely certain that he, Hugh, was the man to provide it. It was true that Hugh was at that very moment in need of a personal assistant, a fact that he was quite sure Larry had somehow ferreted out for himself. They had gone off for a long luncheon together, during which Larry had poured out his heart to Hugh. His personal life, he confided, was in disarray. He needed a new start in life. He begged his old friend to give it to him. He was prepared to work his balls off for the chance. Hugh knew, looking at the intelligent good-looking face, now showing signs of age, that Larry would be as good as his word. He also knew he would make an invaluable assistant. As to what personal problems Larry might have, Hugh did not know and didn’t care to enquire. He had never been quite sure as to Larry’s sexual predilections – he had a feeling that he had possibly had a string of attachments of both sexes, but he let that pass. He gave him a job, and after a couple of minor successes together they had thought up and put on The McMasters, which was, and had been from the first episode, a smash hit. Hugh regarded him now with an amused tolerance. Larry had certainly breathed life into South Eastern Television. Things were never dull when he was around.
‘I take it you have a solution?’ Hugh said eventually, aware that Larry was waiting for a cue.
‘Of course,’ replied Larry languidly. ‘I’ve rewritten them,’ and he closed his eyes, as though the exertion of his labours had been too much for him.
‘I thought you might have,’ said Hugh mildly.
‘What’s Colin going to say?’ Martin looked perturbed.
‘Fuck Colin,’ replied Larry blithely. He opened his eyes and looked at them. ‘You’re the producers of the series, you’re the arbiters of taste, for God’s sake, and we all know that what has been served up in Episodes Ten and Eleven is nothing more or less than sentimental drivel!’
There was a longish pause, then Hugh said, ‘Right! Well, we’d better hear your rewrites then.’
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ observed Larry dryly, as he sat up, put his half-glasses on the end of his nose and opened the first script. ‘That’ll teach me to take holidays,’ he muttered as he found the right page. ‘That load of twaddle that passed for “prime-time drama” last night was perpetrated when I was in San Francisco, of course. Ah, here we are. Now first of all I think I should mention I’ve introduced two new characters –’
‘You’ve done what?’ exploded Hugh, sitting bolt upright. This time Larry had gone too far.
‘Two new characters,’ repeated Larry patiently.
‘Without consulting me?’ Hugh was outraged.
‘I’m consulting you now,’ said Larry, unimpressed by Hugh’s outburst, ‘that’s why I’m here. This is the consultation.’
‘Have you any idea how much two new actors will cost the series? Yes, of course you have,’ said Hugh, answering his own question. ‘We’ve been over the budget together!’
‘I know exactly how much it will cost – and we solve the problem by losing two of the others.’
Throughout this exchange Martin had looked aghast and was incapable of speech.
‘Who do you suggest?’ asked Hugh, scarcely able to believe his ears.
‘Well, the appalling Patsy for one,’ Larry said, looking beadily at Hugh, whom, he noticed, had the grace to blush. ‘Crotch casting never works,’ Larry had stated bluntly at the time. ‘Then, there’s dear old Fred – he’s finding the going a bit rough. We could put him out to pasture – or not have him in the series quite so often,’ he added hurriedly, seeing their horrified faces. ‘Oh come on, girls, we’ve got a hit series on our hands here, which has at least another couple of years’ life in it. We’ve got to keep it up to scratch or, let’s face it, we won’t be asked back again. It’ll go down the pan at the end of the season.’
There was another silence as they considered the prospect.
‘All right,’ said Hugh, finally. ‘What’s your idea? Who are these newcomers?’
Larry looked at him over the top of his spectacles. ‘I want to put the cat among the pigeons,’ he said quietly. ‘A threat, a rival, a stunning young woman. She tries to steal Paul McMaster’s clients, his business, and, finally, his heart.’ There was another pause.
‘I like it,’ said Hugh simply. Martin nodded in agreement. Larry allowed himself a small smile. ‘And the other character?’ asked Hugh.
‘An American,’ said Larry, watching their faces closely. ‘A rich American playboy with a weakness for fine art, who falls for the new girl and decides to back her financially.’ And he sat back to watch their reactions. They both stared at him unblinking.
‘I like that, too,’ said Hugh sanguinely.
‘What do you think, Marty?’ demanded Larry cheekily.
‘I think you’d better read us your rewrites,’ was the quiet response.
‘Attaboy!’ said Larry