Chapter 21

“That’s no problem,” Cal said, “I can walk home by myself, it’s only ten minutes.

“Kathy and I will walk you home, then I’ll walk Kathy,” I said, “that makes sense.”

“No it doesn’t,” Kathy insisted, “the sensible thing to do is for you and Cal to walk me home, then you and Cal walk home together.”

“No seriously,” Cal said, “I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.”

“That is not going to happen,” Kathy said, “the rule is girls don’t walk home alone. David, tell her.”

“I just don’t want to be piggy in the middle,” Cal tried.

“You won’t,” Kathy answered, “he’ll be between us, so David will be piggy in the middle.”

They both let out a giggle at that witticism.

I looked at my watch, and that made the decision for us.

“Come on,” I said, “we just about have enough time to get Kathy home by her curfew.”

I took Kathy’s hand and we started off towards the centre of town and Kathy’s house.

We hadn’t gone more than an hundred yards, when Kathy whispered to me.

“David,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Hold Cal’s hand as well,” she told me.

“What?” I asked again, my eyebrows heading towards the sky.

“Hold Cal’s hand as well, it’s what friends do.”

“But,” I objected.

“Just do it, it’ll be all right.”

I reached out my left hand and enveloped Cal’s right hand in it.

Her expression changed, suddenly she was smiling. She looked across at Kathy and the two of them gave little nods to each other.

“Don’t you have to choose your subjects this year?” Cal asked Kathy.

“Yes, by the end of next term,” Kathy replied.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m thinking of going down the arts route, I want to be a lawyer,” Kathy answered.

“I’ve heard it pays well,” I said.

“Any particular type of law?” Cal asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Kathy replied, “I have to get through GCSEs and A levels first, then get into University, then survive three years there, and find a training contract. I’ll probably not decide what to specialise in until then.”

We arrived at Kathy’s house with two minutes to spare, which didn’t leave any time for long goodbyes.

“Will you be down at the Blue Cup tomorrow morning?” Kathy asked as we broke our severely truncated goodnight kiss.

“No,” I replied, “Dad and I are going to Manchester in the morning. I have to read for a part in a TV crime drama.”

“Oh, will it mean you being away again?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “probably ten weeks, and it will be during term time.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised, “can you do that?”

“Yes, the company has to get a permit from the local council, and they have tutors on set, so my school work won’t suffer. Assuming I get the part that is.”

“Well,” she said, “we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

We said goodnight and I watched her walk in through the back door, then went round the front to find Cal sat on the garden wall, staring into space.

“Penny for them,” I said as I rounded the corner, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

“Kathy told you to hold my hand, didn’t she?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“She’s a nice kid,” Cal said, “I hope it works out between you.”

“It won’t,” I answered.

“What?” she exclaimed, “then why are you two...”

She trailed off.

“Going out together?” I asked.

“Well, yes.”

“Right,” I began, “she’s fourteen and she wants to know what it’s like having a boyfriend, her father won’t let her go out on dates, except with me. So she gets to go out on dates in a safe environment, with her father’s approval.”

“Because you’re Mike’s best friend, and he knows you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that?” she suggested.

“Yes, that’s what it is.”

“But what about you? What do you get out of it?”

“What do I need to get out of it?” I asked, “I’m doing a favour for a friend. But, I do get a benefit. How many of the girls at school know that we split up?”

“There may be a few that don’t, but most of them.”

“Yes, that’s about right,” I answered, “and of those, if they thought I was available how many of them would have a try for me?”

“Just about everybody who didn’t have a steady boyfriend, and even a few of those that do.”

“But I don’t want a ‘proper’ girlfriend right now, so Kathy keeps them at bay. But what about you? Are you getting hit on at school?”

“No,” she said, “I think the boys at school are all waiting for you and me to get back together. There have been a few, one in particular.”

“Solly?” I asked.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “why does he think that just because you’re not there, I’ll automatically go for him.”

“Ego,” I said, “that and his great desire to get one over on me.”

We reached her front gate.

“Thanks for walking me home, David,” she said, as she opened it.

“Hey, I was coming this way anyway,” I quipped.

“Yes, but I felt that I sort of cramped your style a little,” she replied.

“No it was the lateness of the hour that did that,” I said.

“Well thank you, anyway,” she said, kissing me lightly on the cheek before she turned to walk to the door.

“Goodnight,” I said, to her retreating back.

“Goodnight,” she replied, then I thought she said something else, softer, that I couldn’t make out.

I turned and headed down our driveway and let myself in.

I said goodnight to the parents, who were sat on the sofa, cuddling of all things, then headed off upstairs to my bed.

I was up early on Saturday, my Dad and I had to be off to Manchester for the audition. As we got into the car my Dad stopped.

“David, haven’t you forgotten your script?”

“No,” I replied.

“Well where is it?” he asked.

I just tapped the side of my head and got into the passenger seat.

He put one of his Sinatra CDs on and I sat back to listen, it wasn’t exactly my taste but I doubt my Dad was ever going to play Meat Loaf or Led Zep.

We were heading up the hill towards the Saddleworth exit on the M62 when it came on, I didn’t really notice the verse, but suddenly, I noticed what Sinatra was singing.

“But Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week I sing the song that I sang for the memories I usually seek Until I hear you at the door Until you’re in my arms once more Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week.”

And I thought of Cal.

Most of the rest of the way we drove just listening to the music, we arrived twenty minutes before the appointed time and walked up to the reception desk. The very pretty, slim dark haired young woman at the desk looked up as the automatic doors and smiled.

“David Barker?” she asked as we reached her desk.

“Yes,” I replied, “this is my father James Barker.”

“Can I ask you both to sign in please,” she said, indicating a folder open on the desktop.

I put in my name, left the company name blank and entered the car registration, she then tore off a paper strip, folded it and handed it to me instructing me to keep the badge visible at all times. She did say please though. Then she repeated the process with my Dad.

“If you’d like to take a seat gentlemen,” she said, “Ms. Shaw will be with you shortly.”

We sat in two armchairs over in the foyer window space where we could see the comings and goings on the street outside.

True to her word, it was less than five minutes before Emma Shaw came down to greet us. She was a tall, stately woman in her mid thirties with short blonde hair and the most piercing blue eyes I’d ever seen.

“Good morning David,” she greeted me, “and good morning Mr Barker, welcome to Abacus Productions. My name is Emma Shaw and I’m the production manager on this production. Have you brought your copy of the script with you?”

“No,” I replied, “I didn’t.”

“Not to worry,” I answered, “I know my lines.”

“What?” she exclaimed, sounding incredulous, “but there were eight pages of dialogue.”

“Eight and a half to be exact,” I replied, “I just seem to have this knack of learning lines.”

“Now that, is unusual,” she said, “would you both like to come through. The scene we are asking you to read is the one between Richard and his mother in the kitchen when he gets home from school.”

Once we reached the upstairs conference room, we were introduced to the other two members of the production team. Steven Alcott, the producer, and Mark Walton, the director.

Hands were shaken all round and then Steven started off the proceedings.

“Tell me Dave,” he started.

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, it’s David, I don’t shorten it.”

“Sorry,” he smiled, “David. Why do you want to play this part?”

“I don’t particularly,” I said, seeing my Dad visibly wince, “you approached me if I recall correctly. However, it fits my plans. It’s ten weeks of work at a decent rate, and to be honest, it’s not a difficult part to play. I’m the right age, the right physical build and if I read the situation right, you’re stuck, someone has let you down and you need a replacement quickly.”

“You’re not a raw beginner are you?” Mark Walton asked.

“I’m sure you know I’ve just finished shooting on a Sci Fi film for Disney that should be coming out by Christmas. When would this drama be airing?” I asked.

“Early next year,” Emma answered, “probably February or March.”

“So the advantage for you, should the film be a hit, is you have a featured player in your programme who is also featured in one of the most recent big hits. That should put your viewing figures up a bit,” I told them.

By this time my father was looking decidedly gob-smacked.

“Well,” Emma said, looking perplexed, “shall we get on with the run through?”

“Let’s,” I said.

“Very well, page four, from where the mother comes in,” Mark said, “and, when you’re ready David.”

I closed my eyes for a second, then began.

“Mum, where’s Dad?” I asked.

“Richie darling,” Emma replied, “sit down, we need to talk.”

“Why Mum, what is it?”

“It’s your father, son, he and I have been having some problems lately. He’s, well he’s decided to move out,” she went on.

“What?” I yelled, “he’s gone, and couldn’t even tell me he was leaving himself?”

“Richie,” she said, “your father and I both still love you, we, just well we don’t love each other anymore.”

“That’s rubbish Mum,” I replied vehemently, “if he still thought anything of me at all, he’d have been man enough to face me and tell me himself.”