Chapter 36

Monday’s filming went like clockwork, everybody seemed to be on fire, we had a few wraps after one take, mainly we didn’t need more than two. There was one scene that we repeatedly messed up when Sarah Cox, who was playing my friend Samantha Britten continually kept corpesing while delivering our lines. We also lost some time because with the school in session we’d occasionally get outsiders walking into shot, or some of the students would decide to come over and say hi, ask for an autograph or try for a selfie with one or other of us. By two-thirty we were back at the studio, where the setup for the following morning’s first scene was already done.

We were taking a break around five when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and looked at the screen, it was Maria.

“Hi Maria,” I said, “wazzup?”

“I’ve had a call from Rebecca,” she replied, “they’ve got a date for shipping Sandy home. Next Friday eleven am from Vancouver to Newark.”

“Are we booked on the same flight?” I asked.

“No, it’s not a passenger flight, she’s suggesting that we fly redeye on Thursday night, which is convenient, since the flight leaves about an hour after your Dad and Alison.”

“Then say yes to it,” I said, “I’ll make sure they know I’m not going to be here for at least the week afterwards. Alternatively you could ask them to try and rearrange the whole flights thing so that we can travel with her.”

“One other thing,” she said, “your Mom will still be with us, should I book for her to come with us?”

“Discuss it with her, if she says yes, then do it. What are you going to do about the funeral?”

“I’ll ring the funeral home over there now,” she said, “how about we aim for the Saturday of that week. That way you’ll only miss one week of filming.”

“I’ll just fit in with your wishes,” I said.

“OK,” she replied, “I’ll get on with things and see you when you get home?”

It was almost ten when I walked in through the front door, tired, but we’d got a lot of stuff on tape.

Mum, Dad and Maria were up, Alison had gone to bed, excited about visiting the studio tomorrow.

“You look tired,” my Dad said as I flopped down on the sofa in the living room.

“That’s because I am,” I said.

“Hot chocolate to go to bed on?” Mum asked and, without waiting for an answer walked through to the kitchen to get it.

I looked at Maria who nodded her head to me.

“Everything’s arranged,” she said,

“Kostas?” I asked.

“That too,” she replied.

Mum came in carrying a tray, she’d made hot chocolate for all of us and we sat there in silence, sipping at it.

“Your sister’s really excited at going with you tomorrow,” Mum said.

“She probably won’t be by lunchtime,” I replied, “she’ll discover just exactly how boring the whole thing is. Don’t anybody bother getting up with us tomorrow, we’ll have a bowl of cereal and get breakfast at the studio.”

Despite her having gone to bed early, I still had to almost drag my sister out of bed the following morning. We had cereal and coffee and finished just in time for the car to take us to the studio.

“So what happens when we get there?” she asked.

“First stop is hair,” I said, “they’ll make sure that I have the right style and length for the first scene, then make-up. After that I get into costume for my first scene, then we go to the canteen for breakfast. After that we’re on set. Just make sure your phone is on silent and don’t answer it while we’re filming.”

Once we arrived at the studio we headed straight for my trailer, where Alison dumped her bag and we walked across the yard to the hair, make-up and wardrobe building.

“Can I take pictures?” Alison asked.

“Yes, of course,” I replied, “so long as they aren’t embarrassing ones.”

When my sister gets that wide-eyed, innocent, ‘who me?’ look I get worried.

“Pip,” I growled.

She held up both hands.

“I’ll be good,” she said.

This morning’s first scene called for me to be sporting longer hair than usual, so the hair was easy, pin back my natural hair and cover it with a wig of the same colour but the right length.

All the way through the process, Mandy, my hair stylist explained to Alison what she was doing.

Just as we were leaving Mandy stopped us.

“Alison,” she said, “you have lovely hair, if you get bored, come back and let me restyle it for you.”

“Thank you,” Alison replied, “I will if I get bored.”

I knew she’d taken a couple of pictures of me having the wig fitted and I suspected that, even as we walked down the corridor to make-up, they were already on their way to assorted people back home in Yorkshire.

As we walked into make-up, I introduced Alison to Sally Barnes, our make-up designer and my make-up artist and her namesake Alison Caterham, who plays my stepmother in the show. Within seconds they were chattering away like old friends, despite the nineteen-year age gap between them. Once I was fully beautified it was time for wardrobe. Our Wardrobe team, Jaime and Lesley Peters, were mother and daughter and already had all my costumes for the day on a rack labelled with my name.

As I started to strip off my outer clothes I turned to my sister.

“No underwear shots,” I instructed her, causing the two ladies to laugh.

As we walked round to the sound stage, Alison looked up at me.

“Do you have to go back there for every costume change?” she asked.

“No, the rack will be taken round to the trailer and I’ll change in there. Then, before every scene the continuity person will take a polaroid of everybody in the scene and the set itself, to make sure we don’t have me changing shorts or something in mid scene. And that there’s nothing in the shot that doesn’t belong there, like the Red Ferrari in Ben-Hur.”

When we arrived on the set, the living room of the family’s house in Chicago for this scene, Alison got a surprise. There was a row of canvas and wood director’s chairs in front of the actual set and, right in the middle of the row was one that looked newer than the rest. One with Alison Barker in yellow script across the canvas back rest.

Her eyes went wide when she saw it.

“Is that for me?” she asked.

Sammy Richards, our first AD smiled.

“Unless there’s someone else around here by that name,” she said, then looked around theatrically, “nope, just you.”

Then she introduced herself and dashed off to gather the troops for a rehearsal.

We ran through the scene until the very last segment when the director called cut.

“Where’s Becky?” he asked, irritation in his voice.

After a few seconds, someone reported that Becky hadn’t showed up.

He threw his hands up in frustration.

“Damn the girl,” he said, “all right, find me someone from amongst the extras who can do a passable British accent.”

Sammy scooted off to where the extras, who were playing guests from school at David’s birthday party were gathered.

She returned five minutes later shaking her head.

“There’s only one,” she said, “but it’s a boy that just wouldn’t work.”

“OK, then, we’ll just have to shoot round that part and fill in when she deigns to show up.”

He looked around and when he saw Alison, he stopped and went striding towards her.

“Miss Barker, Alison, could you help us out here?” he said.

“How?” she asked, confused.

“Well the young lady we booked for a small part in this scene hasn’t arrived. Could you help us by rehearsing the scene with your brother?”

“I’ll do my best,” she answered, “but I’ve never really done any acting.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s not acting, just rehearsing.”

“What do I have to do?” she asked.

He quickly outlined the scene. It was my birthday party and Becky, the part Alison was playing was an exchange student from England, there with her exchange host’s daughter. She tells him she recognised his accent and asked which part of England he was from. He tells her and she responds with a line about hoping to see him around, then returns to her group. After wishing him a happy birthday.

“Don’t worry if you mess up,” he told her, “unlike a stage play, here we can just do it again.”

“And probably a few times more,” she added, which made him chuckle as he walked back to the monitor desk and announced, “OK, rehearsal. Places everybody.”

“Everybody ready?” he called out and when there were no replies of ‘no,’ he called, “Action.”

Pop music was playing and people stood around chatting, everybody holding drinks.

“All right Alison,” the director called, “now, look around and spot David, then after a few seconds turn back to your companion and say a few words then walk across to David and deliver your lines.”

She did as she was told (which amazed me) and at the end the director called ‘Cut,’.

“Thank you Alison, that was brilliant,” he said, “can we try it one more time, but this time could you maybe swing your hips a little more? You fancy this boy and you want to attract his attention. Right folks beginning places please.”

The camera assistant stood in front of number one camera, clapperboard in hand and announced the details, slapped the two parts of the board together and we all heard the shout of “Action.”

We ran through the scene once more and, once more, Alison did well.

“Thanks Alison,” our director said to her just after he’d called ‘Cut,’ “that was great. Since you’ve helped us out, would it be all right if we listed you as an extra? You’d get paid for it.”

“How much?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, honestly, “I think somewhere around a thousand dollars, American, about a thirteen hundred or so Canadian.”

She looked at me and I whispered, “About eight hundred.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Thank you,” she stammered.

“So, how do we pay you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“My company can bill you and we’ll pay her,” I offered, “that way it falls under UK tax and eight hundred pounds won’t be liable to tax.”

“Right then, we’ll do that,” he said, “I’ll see what the actual rate is and you can send us an invoice.”

“All right folks, it doesn’t look like Becky is going to grace us with her presence this morning, so let’s take fifteen and move on. Scene Fourteen oh seven.”