AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘But he’s dead,’ said Imogen just as Roxster texted:
‘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.
‘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.
‘Yeah, but if it’s a romcom?’
‘It’s not a romcom, it’s a tragedy,’ I said, then immediately regretted my presumptuousness.
The phone vibrated again. Chloe.
‘She shoots herself,’ said Imogen.
‘Shoots herself? Shoots herself?’ said George. ‘Who does that?’
‘But you can’t say “Who does that?” about someone shooting themselves,’ Imogen was saying.
‘That’s exactly what they say! In the original play!’ I said, trying to overcome feelings of annoyance with Cosmata’s mother. ‘“Good God! People don’t do things like that!”’
There was a silence. I knew I’d said completely the wrong thing.
Imogen was looking daggers at me. I had to stop looking at the texts and CONCENTRATE. I was clearly in the middle of some incredibly complex power struggle, which I didn’t fully understand, and one or other of the children would have to remain abandoned and Roxster’s food obsession unsatisfied. Imogen had supported me over the fact that you couldn’t question whether people shot themselves or not – because clearly they do sometimes and not just in plays – but then I, instead of supporting her in her support, had supported George by saying that his views were supported by the opinions of . . .
‘I mean, I agree with you, Imogen,’ I said. ‘People shoot themselves all the time. Not actually all the time, but they do shoot themselves sometimes. Look at, look at, um.’ I looked wildly around for inspiration, wishing I could google ‘Modern Celebrities Who Have Shot Themselves’. Instead I quickly texted Chloe:
‘Right,’ said George, sitting down again, in an important, businesslike way. ‘So. We’ll give you a couple of days. No Kate Hudson shooting herself. It’s a comedy. It’s the comedy we like.’
I stared at George aghast. The Leaves in His Hair is not a comedy. It is a tragedy. Had the tragedy in my writing somehow inadvertently come out as comic? The fact that Hedda Gabbler shoots herself is fundamental. But, as Brian said, in the movie business, artistic integrity has to go together with pragmatism and . . . There was another text from Roxster!
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. Suddenly the previously mentioned Pink Panther concept combined with Roxster’s ‘Nits’ suggestion triggered a brilliant notion in my mind.
‘What about Tom and Jerry?’ I burst out. George, who had now opened the door to leave, stopped in his tracks and looked back.
‘I mean, Tom and Jerry is a comedy, but terrible things happen to both Tom and Jerry. I mean, more Tom – he gets flattened, he gets electrocuted, yet somehow . . .’
