LITMIR.BIZ

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solemnly. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He is talking to Sam who is still lying on the floor with her hands over her head to shut out the noise.

      ‘Look, Mr Tymely –’ Sidney hurries after Justin and Sam and I are left alone.

      ‘Oh dear,’ says Sam. ‘That was awful, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Awful,’ I agree with her.

      ‘Just when we were having such a lovely time, too.’ She looks at me out of the corner of one of her eyes and smooths her skirt over her thigh.

      ‘It was good, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Sometimes when something like that happens it’s difficult to pick up the threads.’ She pulls her sweater down so that her nipples jut out like bell pushes.

      I suck in my breath. ‘Yes.’

      ‘What are we going to do now?’

      ‘Where’s the light switch in this place?’ I ask her.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      ‘Of course, you were done, weren’t you?’

      ‘Look at that one. She’s a bit of all right, isn’t she?’

      ‘I looked up Guttman in Who’s Who of the Screen and he doesn’t have a daughter.’

      ‘Fantastic legs.’

      ‘He couldn’t even get her name right.’

      ‘Blimey. I’d give her a part any day of the week.’

      ‘You’re not listening to me, are you, Sid? I’m telling you that you were conned. That scene in the projection booth was a put-up job to pressure you into signing the contract.’

      ‘I put up as well, didn’t I? I’m not grumbling. Don’t worry, Timmo. We can’t lose money on a film that has got chicks like that in it.’

      It is a few days after our lunch with Justin and we are attending a casting session for Oliver Twist, this being the vehicle into which Sid has sunk a considerable amount of moola. Just how much, he did not realise until he got his copy of the contract. Certainly my memory of the conversation at the lunch table revolved around a figure approximately half of that which Sidney has now contracted to lash out.

      At least Sidney is not the only backer of the movie and I am amazed at how many blokes there do seem to be in on the deal. About a dozen people have a slice of the action and most of them are attending the casting session.

      ‘Sidney, I’d like you to meet Alma Mater. I think she’d make a wonderful Nancy.’ Justin is introducing a tall, slim dark girl with straight shoulder-length hair and eyes that blaze like truck headlights. She is wearing a black leotard with a white apron – at least, that is the effect achieved.

      ‘You’ve got enough Nancies around here already, haven’t you?’ says Sidney, never slow to impress with his salty wit. ‘Pleased to meet you, Nancy.’

      ‘I hear you’re one of the backers,’ says Nancy. ‘That’s fantastic, that really is. I think people who put money into art are just unbelievable. I’m a dancer really, you know. I’m very lucky because I’m double-jointed and I can do things with my body that most other people can’t begin to attempt. It really is a pleasure meeting you, Mr Noggett, because I’ve heard so much about you. I hope you don’t mind me going on like this but I feel I can talk to you. You have a sort of warm quality. You really come over, if you know what I mean?’

      I am practically reaching for my vomit bag but Sidney, being the kind of stupid twit that he is, laps it all up like it is the flavour of the month. It is funny but Sidney can be quite effective when he is dishing out the chat. Give him some tongue-tied little bird and the words break over her in waves. When he is on the receiving end his mind seems to put on diving boots. I think it is because he reckons that all birds are stupid he never takes anything they say at anything other than face value. That is why my sister Rosie can put it across him so easily. Rosie used to be dumb but she has changed. Sidney has not. Funny how smart I used to think he was when I first met him.

      ‘It’s very nice of you to say so, Miss Mater,’ says Sid awkwardly. ‘I suppose one always tries to look for the best in people. Look – er, let’s have a cup of coffee. I’d like to hear more about your dancing.’

      He leads her away – or thinks he does – and I am left with Justin who has a satisfied expression on his mug.

      ‘Going well, is it?’ I ask, allowing a trace of sarcasm to creep into my voice.

      ‘Splendidly, Timothy. Quite splendidly. It may sound a trifle cynical but one does try to marry the action on the screen to real life. Those who invest money in our productions are often frustrated thespians and if we can transplant them into a relationship with some of the protagonists on the filmic level, then their reward is twofold. Do I make myself clear?’

      ‘You mean if you put up some ackers you can get your end away with the cast?’

      ‘Precisely. Or, at least, you stand a better chance of doing so.’ Justin pats me on the back. ‘Very good, Timothy. What a pity I’ve already cast the Artful Dodger.’

      ‘Justin. There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why are we doing Oliver Twist? I mean, it’s been flogged to death, hasn’t it? There’s the stage version and a couple of films –’

      ‘Exactly, Timothy! You put your finger on it. It’s become a classic, you see. All great works are being revived, the whole time. Look at the Bible. People are always making films and plays about it. It becomes a question of interpretation, searching for new meanings, revealing hidden truths. The creative process is a mirror capable of infinite representations of the same object.’

      He is a lovely talker, Justin, there is no doubt about it. When I listen to him rabbiting on it makes me realise how ignorant I am. Also, how difficult it must be in the film industry if a person of his obvious genius has to make films like Up the Ladder, Jack in order to scrape together a few bob. I suppose people like me should blame ourselves for not having superior tastes so that people like Justin can do things worthy of their talents.

      ‘Another thing I don’t understand, Justin,’ I say apologetically, ‘is why you seem to be casting so many birds. It’s not a musical, is it?’

      ‘No, no. Good gracious me, no. No, I’m getting the women out of the way today, and casting the male characters tomorrow. Also’ – he looks round to see that no one is listening – ‘I might as well be completely honest with you. Some of the backers, as you already surmised, do demand slightly more than their pound of flesh. Many of the girls here today have no chance of a part in the film – and know it.’

      ‘Like Alma?’ I venture.

      ‘Precisely. Alma would have difficulty walking across the set without someone chalking out footsteps for her to follow. She has other talents.’

      I get an inkling of what these talents might be the next day when Sidney limps into view with his earhole practically on his shoulder.

      ‘That bird wasn’t kidding when she said she was double jointed,’ he croaks. ‘Blimey, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. It quite put me off sometimes. I reckon she could have done me a serious injury.’

      ‘You mean you took advantage of that poor star-struck child,’ I scold him. ‘Shame on you, Sid. How could you have done it?’

      ‘Come off it, Timmo. She was crazy for it. It was the old Noggett magnetism driving her out of her mind into a hailstorm of torrid ecstasy.’

      ‘You mean maelstrom, Sidney,’ I tell him. ‘Although I reckon it probably was more like a hailstorm. Little icy balls banging away –’

      ‘Hey, wait a minute. Just because you’re jealous, there’s no need to be like that.’

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