‘The Hedda character,’ added George tersely. Imogen coloured slightly, seeming to take this as some kind of rebuke, then continued: ‘We think the idea of a woman dissatisfied with her lot, and torn between a sensible-choice husband and a wildly creative—’
‘Exactly, exactly,’ I said as the phone vibrated again. ‘I mean, even though it was a long time ago, women are still making these decisions. And I think Queen’s Park has exactly the sort of—’
Glanced furtively at the text. Roxster!
<What are you wearing and how is the film meeting?>
‘Right, right, what we’re thinking is – we set it in Hawaii,’ George interrupted.
‘HAWAII?’ I said.
‘Yes.’
Realizing this might be a crucial juncture, I gathered my courage, and added: ‘Although, it is meant to be more Norwegian. So like, in November, all dark and miserable, in a dark, depressing house in Queen’s Park.’
‘It could be Kauai,’ said Imogen encouragingly. ‘It rains all the time there.’
‘So instead of being in, like, a dark depressing house it’s—’
‘On a yacht!’ said Imogen. ‘We want to bring in a sort of 60s/70s glamorous feel.’
‘Like The Pink Panther,’ interjected Damian.
‘You mean it’s going to be a cartoon?’ I said, furtively texting <Navy silk dress. Nightmare.> under the desk.
‘No, no, you know, like the original Pink Panther with David Niven and Peter Sellers,’ said Imogen.
‘Wasn’t that set in Paris and Gstaad?’
‘Well, yes, but it’s the feel we’re after. The mood,’ said Imogen.
‘A yacht in Hawaii with a Paris/Gstaad sort of feel?’ I said.
‘Where it’s raining,’ said Imogen.
‘Dark, dark, cloudy skies,’ added Damian.
I slumped. The whole thing was meant to be about everything being disappointing and shabby. But, importantly, as Brian the Agent says, if you’re a screenwriter you don’t want to be sort of a nuisance.
The phone vibrated. Roxster.
<GBH x. Is that the navy silk dress I had my head up last week?>
‘So . . .’ said George. ‘Hedda is Kate Hudson.’
‘Right, right.’ I nodded, writing ‘Kate Hudson’ in my iPhone notes and quickly texting <GBH?> while trying not to think about Roxster’s head up my dress.
‘The boring husband is Leonardo DiCaprio and then the alcoholic ex is . . .?’
‘Heath Ledger,’ Damian said quickly.
‘But he’s dead,’ said Imogen just as Roxster texted: <Great Big Hamburger. I mean, Hug.>
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Damian was saying. ‘Not Heath Ledger but someone like Heath Ledger only . . .’
‘Not dead?’ said Imogen, staring at Damian coldly. ‘Colin Farrell?’
‘Yup,’ said George. ‘I can see that. I can see Colin Farrell. If he’s on the straight and narrow, which I think he is. So what about the other girl?’
‘The friend – the one Hedda Gabbler was at school with?’ said Imogen. The phone vibrated.
<Billy has stopped being sick so I can get first, but Cosmata’s mother still doesn’t want him to come to the door. Can I leave him in the car?>
‘Alicia Silverstone,’ said Damian. ‘It should be like Clueless.’
‘Nope,’ said George.
‘No,’ Damian disagreed with himself.
‘You know what?’ George was looking thoughtful. ‘Hedda could be more of a Cameron Diaz. What about Bradley Cooper for boring husband?’
‘Mmm! Yes!’ I said. ‘But isn’t Bradley Cooper quite sex—’
‘Jude Law in Anna Karenina,’ concurred Imogen, with a knowing smile. ‘Or cast the whole piece older and have George Clooney playing against type?’
Felt in some strange twilight world where we were just bandying about incredibly famous people, who would have absolutely no interest in being in it at all. Why would Cosmata’s mother think that nits and sick germs could hop from the pavement into the front door and why would George Clooney want to be in an updated version of Hedda Gabbler, set on a yacht in Hawaii, playing against type, written by me?
‘What if she doesn’t die?’ said George, getting to his feet and starting to walk around. ‘She dies, right, in the book?’
‘The play,’ said Imogen.
‘But that’s the whole point,’ I said.