‘Help yourself then,’ Zoe said, handing him the whisky bottle and pouring herself a gin and tonic. ‘I’ll just go and get some ice. Want some?’
‘No thanks.’ He topped up the tumbler and waited for Zoe to return.
‘Making yourself at home, then?’ He motioned to the different art pieces on the wall.
‘I just moved a couple of pictures down here from my bedroom to brighten the room up.’
‘Nice to have a legacy like this,’ he muttered.
‘Not that again! Marcus, I hate to remind you, but Dad did give you enough money to rent your very nice flat in Notting Hill a few years ago. On top of funding your many film projects.’
‘Fair point,’ Marcus agreed. ‘So, tell me what you and he discussed the other night.’
‘Well –’ Zoe curled up on the sofa – ‘even though you’ve been totally ungracious over the business of the will, I can understand how you’ve felt.’
‘That’s very perceptive of you, sister dear.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Marcus. I’m only trying to help.’
‘I would have said you’re the one doing the patronising, sweetheart.’
‘Christ! You are so bloody impossible! Now, just shut up for five minutes, while I explain how I might be able to help.’
‘All right, all right. Go on, then.’
‘To be fair, I think the deal has always been that you were looked after financially by Dad, while Jamie and I were taken care of by James. And because I’m raising Jamie by myself, I think James wanted to make absolutely sure that whatever happened, we’d both be okay.’
‘Maybe,’ Marcus grunted.
‘So –’ Zoe took a sip of her gin – ‘given all the money’s in trust for Jamie, there’s only one area of the will from which I can legally and honestly extract some dosh for you.’
‘And that is?’
Zoe sighed. ‘I don’t think you’re going to like this, but it really is the best I can do.’
‘Come on then, shoot.’
‘Do you remember at the reading of the will, the bit at the end about the memorial fund?’
‘Vaguely – although by then I was about to blow a gasket.’
‘Well, it’s basically an amount held in trust to provide fees for drama school each year for one talented male and one female actor.’
‘Oh. You’re going to suggest I use that and go back to college, are you?’ Marcus quipped.
Zoe ignored him. ‘What Dad and I are suggesting is that we put you in charge of the trust and pay you a good salary to organise and administer it.’
Marcus stared at her. ‘Is that it?’
‘Yes. Oh Marcus!’ Zoe shook her head in frustration. ‘I knew you’d react like this! We’re offering you something that will only take up a couple of months a year, maximum, but will at least give you a regular income whilst you try to get your film going. Yes, you’ll need to do the initial promotion and get the media interested in it to help encourage applications. Then there’ll have to be a week or so of auditions in front of a panel of your choice – I’m happy to come – and some administration, but really, it’s money for old rope. You could do it standing on your head.’
There was silence from Marcus, so Zoe decided to play her trump card. ‘It’ll also make those that have doubted you in the film business stand up and take notice, help your reputationandthe young future of British theatre. There’s no reason why you can’t use the media coverage to raise your own profile and that of your production company.’
Marcus raised his head and looked at her. ‘How much?’
‘Dad and I thought thirty thousand a year. I know it’s not the amount you need,’ she added hastily, ‘but it’s not bad for a few weeks’ work. And you can have the first year’s salary upfront if you want.’ Zoe pointed at the folder on the table. ‘All the details on the trust and the amount we have to invest in it are explained in there. Take it home and have a look at it. You don’t have to decide now.’
He leant forward and fingered the folder. ‘That’s awfully kind of you, Zoe. I thank you for your generosity.’
