Chapter 14: Casting Call
Saturday Morning
Pauline lifted the bacon out of the pan and onto a plate, then set the potato cakes in to fry as the kettle began to whistle. "Mum, I don't know how you can eat all this."
"I suppose you'd rather get by on yoghurt and muesli or some such rabbit food," her mother replied. "I need a good fry up in the morning. They run me ragged on my feet at the supermarket, I don't sit behind a desk all day staring at a computer. Not that you're even going to work today. Why are you all dressed up?"
Pauline was wearing her brown dress with the daisy pattern and a plain beige jacket over it. She considered it her most business-like outfit since the flowers were daintier than the bold patterns she usually favoured. She originally bought it thinking she would wear it to her university interview, but since there would be no university interview she figured she might as well get some use out of it.
"The casting call, Mum, don't you remember?" Pauline poured the tea and turned back to the potato cakes. "It could be a good thing, this movie. A chance to try something new. I've got a two week holiday from the surgery coming up so I could make some extra money. And who knows what it could lead to?"
Mum looked up from the morning paper to open a large envelope Pauline had put on the table. She opened it and studied the photo inside. "Is this the picture you're bringing?"
"It's from Uncle Bruce's wedding. They said to bring a head shot – a portrait photo that shows you 'as you currently appear and reflecting your best qualities.'"
Her mother eyed the photo critically. "You never did look good in pictures. Not like your brother. He could have been a male model. And he played Mungojerrie when the Portwenn Players put on Cats. Maybe he should be the one auditioning for movies. Too bad he's off with the Army Reserve.
"What's wrong with my photo? Elaine said my hair looked great that day."
"Elaine, what does she know about hairstyles, with those ridiculous pink braids," Mum sniffed. "Still, at least Elaine got herself out of her Dad's house, going off to Pompey to be with her boyfriend. Bruce says she's got a good job with the DVLA, not swanning off to movie auditions."
"Dad would be excited for me getting in a movie," Pauline muttered, more to herself than to her mother.
"You're not in any movie yet. Don't count your chickens, girl. And your father doesn't give a toss about what you get up to here. He's too busy with his new family up north, innit."
Pauline scooped the potato cakes out of the pan and onto a plate, then slammed the spatula on the counter. She sliced some hog's pudding, pulling a face as she did so. She never liked the greasy sausage but Mum always insisted on it for breakfast.
Mum went back to scanning the newspaper. "All right, I reckon this audition is a good thing if it gets you out from moping around the house, moaning about how that nutter held you hostage and you missed the deadline for university and Al let you down and all."
"I've forgiven Al. He was bereft at the thought of me leaving and he had a momentary lapse of judgement. And if he hadn't come on the scene when Jonathan was in the surgery… I don't know… I don't know what could have happened."
"It's a wonder Doc Martin even keeps you on now, after you let that mental case into his office to cause trouble."
Pauline was just about to scoop the hog's pudding out of the pan when she threw down the spatula in disgust. "I don't even like cooking and you don't appreciate it when I do it. Fry up your own breakfast. And what happened at the surgery wasn't my fault!"
She grabbed the envelope with her photo and ran out the door, pulling it shut behind her with a satisfying slam.
Don't let her get to you, don't let her get to you, she repeated to herself as she walked along Fore Street. No tension. You need to look calm and relaxed for the audition.
She went over to the Large house and knocked. Bert answered the door, wearing a white dress shirt and blue-and-green striped tie that had seen better days, incongruously paired with his usual wool hat. He gave her a big smile. At least someone was happy to see her, she thought. She smiled for the first time that day.
"Have you had breakfast yet, my love? I've got some lovely quiche lorraine, with tomatoes and mushrooms on the side. Sit down, I'll make you up a plate."
She sat as he poured her a cup of tea. "You're such a good cook, Bert."
"Had to fend for myself and Al these many years since our Mary's been gone. No reason you can't eat well while you're livin' the bachelor life." He served them both and joined her at the table.
Pauline tucked in. "Too bad Al hasn't inherited your culinary skills. You should open your own restaurant."
"Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind," Bert said, between mouthfuls.
"So Al is out already?"
"Up at the crack of dawn. You know what all work and no play did to Jack." He shook his head, chuckling. "Is that your photo you're bringin'?" He took it out of the envelope and smiled some more. "You're a looker all right, Pauline. Those movie people'd be crazy not to cast you."
Pauline was feeling better already. "Al doesn't appreciate you Bert, you're a great Dad."
"I do my best." They finished breakfast and he put the dishes in the sink. "Come on, we'll worry about these later. We don't want to be late." He slipped on a tattered suit jacket, whipped off his wool cap and ran his fingers through his sparse hair.
Bert grabbed a cardboard folder with his photo from the counter and they headed out the door. They walked together over the cobbled streets, Bert keeping a surprisingly spry pace for such a heavy man.
As they neared the Village Hall, dark clouds were moving in from the sea. There was already a long line of people waiting outside even though they were still 15 minutes early. They joined the queue right behind Lorna Gillet, who was dressed in her usual shorts, flowered top, flip flops, and handmade seashell necklace and earrings.
"You're awfully casual, Lorna." Pauline said. "You look like you just came from beachcombing. Don't you want to make a good impression on the movie people?"
"It's not like we're applying to be secretaries here," Lorna replied. "I'm an old hand at this movie extra business. I been in lots of stuff with on location filming all over Cornwall - World War Z, the TV version of Frenchman's Creek, and a blink-and-you-miss-me part in the original Poldark, that was back when I was a girl. I was in an episode of Wild West, and I got to stand next to Catherine Tate on set all afternoon for that one. They even gave me a couple of lines when I was in Saving Grace, but my scene ended up on the cutting room floor. Still got paid though. It helps supplement my handicraft business, when the opportunity comes along."
"So what's your secret?"
"They're always looking for people that just look Cornish. And I'm as Cornish as they come. I just blend right into the scenery, don't I."
"I'm pretty Cornish looking, I reckon," Pauline said.
"Me too," Bert chimed in. "Well, my Dad was from Swindon, but you'd never know by the looks of me."
"Of course, sometimes a casting director will surprise ya, pick someone you never would have thought in a million years," Lorna said.
The doors opened and the line began to move forward, not a moment too soon. Everyone crowded into the hall at once as a light rain began to fall outside.
"Hello everyone, thank you for coming out today to our casting call." A tall woman in designer jeans and tailored black jacket addressed the crowd. "I'm Tamsin Todd, the casting director. As you know, we're looking for background talent for our film Rebecca. There are over 200 of you here today and we're only looking for about 25 people, both males and females, various ages and looks. This isn't a 'cast of thousands' type of production, so don't worry if you're not chosen, it's nothing personal. Please have your head shots ready. My assistant Jim will be doing a quick review of everyone, and if we're interested we'll call you up here for a second look."
Jim started to go down the line looking at each person and talking a little with most of them. Every fourth or fifth person got sent up to the hall's small stage, where Tamsin was sitting at a small table. She looked at their photos and chatted some more with them.
The process was slow, and with so many people packed into the un-air conditioned community room the atmosphere became uncomfortably hot and close. The crowd grew restless.
"Half these people here aren't even from Portwenn. Locals should get priority," someone grumbled.
"Has anyone seen the script?" Lorna asked.
"Do they actually write it down, do they," someone else said. "I figured they started out with the story in their heads and said whatever popped out."
"Don't be ridiculous," said Sally Tishell, who was a few places ahead of Pauline. "Each character has a writer who makes up what they say. The writers talk to each other. That's called 'dialogue,'" she stated authoritatively.
"What happened to the ladies' loo? The toilet's all clogged," said a woman, getting back to the place in the queue her friend saved for her.
Half the crowd, the half that was local, turned toward Bert. "Large and Son are the only plumbers in town," someone said.
"Don't look at me," Bert said. "A plumber's entitled to a day off now and again, you know."
"We've called the parish council about the toilets, they're sending someone over," Jim said. He continued to move down the line. When he came to Lorna, they talked for a moment and he sent her over to his boss.
Then he came to Bert. "Ever done any acting?" Jim said.
"I was the Portwenn Player's Falstaff." Bert struck a dramatic pose. "Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about thrift…"
"Mr., er, Large," Jim said, glancing at the name on the back of Bert's photo. "We're not looking for that sort of…"
"I know you only need bit players," Bert interrupted. "They say there's no small parts only small actors, so I'm here to tell you Large's the name and Large is how I'll play it, no matter how small the part."
"That's what I'm afraid of. Sorry." Jim handed back Bert's photo and moved on.
Pauline was next and she was ready. She saw how Bert had overplayed his hand and that was not going to happen to her. She ran one hand over her ginger hair and drew herself up with all the poise and grace she could muster, envelope with her photo clutched under one arm in a casual yet business-like pose. This was her moment.
Jim glanced at her and gave a polite nod. He moved on without a word.
Pauline was devastated.
The door to the community room opened and a young man dripping in wet mac and overalls walked up to Jim, who looked him up and down. "Did you bring a head shot?" Jim asked.
"A what? The parish council called me. Toilet needs unclogging."
"Hmmm, well you can get to that in a minute. Never mind the head shot for now, I think my boss might want a look at you." With that, the assistant casting director sent Al Large up to the stage.
To be continued…
Notes:
Pompey: Nickname for Portsmouth (not Pompeii, which it sounds like).
DVLA: Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency, U.K. version of the DMV in the U.S., with the same reputation for poor customer service.
Hog's pudding: A sort of Cornish haggis.
Mac: A macintosh or raincoat.