‘Well, you’d better bring this Sophie up to see me, then.’
Dennis took her up to the fourth floor the following afternoon. She looked enchanting, he thought. When she’d come in to audition she looked like a film star, but she’d toned it all down a little for Tom, who was a stern Presbyterian. The dress was longer and the lipstick wasn’t as bright.
‘You look terrific,’ Dennis said as they were waiting for the lift.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘For the interview, I mean.’
‘Oh.’
‘And … in life. You look terrific in life and appropriate for the interview. At the same time. Terrific and appropriate.’
He decided to stop there.
‘Have you got any advice?’ said Sophie. ‘Should I be flirty?’
‘Now?’
‘With Tom Sloan.’
‘Oh. Yes. I see what you mean. No, not flirty. And he’s very suspicious of people who he thinks are telling him what he wants to hear.’
‘Right-o. What happens if he says no? What do we do then?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’
‘We’re about to come to it.’
The lift had arrived, but Sophie made no move to get into it. The doors closed and it was called elsewhere.
‘Brian doesn’t think he’ll say yes.’
‘He’ll love you.’
‘But what will we do if he doesn’t?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Dennis. ‘We’d have to have a chat.’
‘Would you just make it without me?’
‘The boys wouldn’t like that. They’re writing for you.’
‘So what could they do?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘What are their choices?’
‘It depends on how cross they are, I suppose.’
‘What about if they’re very cross?’
‘They could march off and show it to the other side, I suppose.’
‘They don’t have Comedy Playhouse, do they?’
‘No. They’d have to sketch out a series, but they’ve got lots of ideas. Anyway. It’s not going to come to that.’
‘Would you go with us?’
‘No. I’m a BBC employee. More’s the pity. The money’s much better over there. But please. It’s all going to be fine.’
The lift came back and this time Sophie got in it.
‘Thank you,’ she said when the doors had closed.
‘For what?’
‘I’ve got something to come back with if he doesn’t think I’m a good idea.’
‘No,’ said Dennis. ‘No. We don’t want to mention any of that to Tom. He hates the other lot. He’s losing all his best people.’
‘I can see why,’ said Sophie.
‘He hasn’t even done anything yet!’ said Dennis.
He didn’t want to get out of the lift when the doors opened upstairs, just as Sophie hadn’t wanted to get into it downstairs. But Sophie had already gone, and he was obliged to chase after her.
‘So,’ said Tom Sloan, when they had been served tea and talked about Sophie’s favourite BBC series. ‘I understand the boys are jigging the script around a bit for you.’
‘They’re chucking the old one altogether.’
‘I rather liked it.’
‘Well,’ said Sophie, ‘there’s no accounting for taste,’ and she laughed.
Dennis felt a sudden urge to go to the lavatory.
‘What was wrong with it?’
‘Ooh, it was awful,’ she said. ‘They were a right couple of drips.’
‘And there was me hoping it might become a series,’ he said, and laughed.
‘Oh, no,’ said Sophie firmly. She was, Dennis could see, trying very hard not to tell him what he wanted to hear.
‘Well,’ said Sloan, ‘the thing is, as Head of Light Entertainment, if I want something to be a series, it usually happens.’
‘Was Talk of the Devil your idea?’
Dennis didn’t know whether he could stay in the room. Talk of the Devil was a comedy series about the Devil. He had gone to all the trouble of adopting human form so that he could work in the Vehicle Registration Department of a provincial town hall. It hadn’t gone down terribly well with either critics or audiences, and hadn’t been commissioned for a second series. Nobody talked about Talk of the Devil, not out loud.
‘Unfortunately it never quite found its feet,’ said Sloan. ‘I thought it had some very good things in it.’
‘It couldn’t have found its feet if you’d cut them off and stuffed them into its mouth,’ said Sophie. ‘You don’t want another one of those on your hands.’
Tom Sloan had gone from enchantment to irritation and mild outrage.
‘There are a lot of good actresses from the North who could play Barbara,’ said Sloan.
Sophie was amazed.
‘Really? Comic actresses?’
‘Yes.’
‘Like who?’
‘Marcia Bell, for example. She’s very good.’
‘I’ve never heard of her.’
‘That’s a coincidence, because we’ve never heard of you,’ said Sloan.
‘Marcia Bell, Dennis?’
They both turned to look at him.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘she’s one way we could go, certainly.’
Sophie didn’t draw a finger across her throat, because she was on her best behaviour, but she managed to convey, with a little smile and her eyes, that Dennis was a dead man.