‘Hmm, I’ll just have to plan another way to bump into Dr O’Hara,’ replied Jack dreamily.
Instantly Robin’s ears pricked up. He certainly knew that name, the very buyer of his flat. He opened his mouth to tell him, then closed it, choosing to surprise his mate instead.
‘I’m sure you’ll meet again,’ replied Robin with a knowing smile.
Felix stared in horror at the headline before him. He’d taken to hunting through the tabloids of late, in search of Anika’s name. Only it wasn’t her name that blazed in bold letters on the screen. It was Mel Nichols. He gulped at reading the article.
Melvin Nichols, casting director, was found unconscious in his central London flat this morning. It is believed Mr Nichols had taken an overdose. He is currently in a stable condition. His family are devastated by his actions and ask for privacy at this very sad time…
Felix reached for his phone and rang Jennifer, his PA.
‘Jennifer, have you heard?’ he rasped.
‘Yes,’ came the cool reply.
‘But why did he try to take his own life?’ Felix asked gruffly, then added in panic, ‘You don’t think it was anything to do with my last conversation with him?’
‘No. I suspect he couldn’t face the shame of being exposed.’
‘Who by?’ cut in Felix abruptly.
‘Rumour has it, he was caught by the chief executive in flagrante with a runner in the dressing room,’ replied Jennifer, whose phone had been busy all morning. ‘I was just about to ring you.’
Felix took a sharp intake of breath. He closed his eyes in relief. He hated the thought of any potential blood on his hands.
‘So,’ continued Jennifer in the same chilly tone, ‘the old queen was finally ousted.’
‘But, to do this?’ said Felix incredulously.
‘He certainly doesn’t get my sympathy vote. Just remember what he was, Felix. And besides, it looks like he’s going to make a full recovery.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Felix. There was an empty, poignant silence.
‘And it may not even reach the press, how he abused his power. He could still get away with it.’ The scorn in Jennifer’s voice was evident.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ replied Felix. ‘After this, I’ll wager there’ll be a few actors ready to spill the beans.’
‘Well, let’s hope so.’
They said their goodbyes but not before Felix invited her to the end of show party.
As the glorious weather had held out, the TV crew had been able to complete all the outside scenes, leaving the filming ahead of schedule. This had put everyone in high spirits and the much-anticipated knees up was most welcome.
Emma too was elated at hearing theLady Scarlett Investigatestheme tune, which Laurence Willis had very kindly sent her on a CD. She’d jumped for joy when Felix had blasted it out on surround sound. Her very own track! She, Emma Scholar, was about to sing to the nation. Or, as Felix pointed out, possibly the world, if the rights to the series were sold internationally. This could only open up further doors to a singing career.
As for Felix, he was just plain relieved he’d managed to complete the filming well within time and on budget, which wouldn’t go unnoticed at the studio. Hopefully, this would bode well if he wanted another stab at directing. For now though, he relished the time off and the peace and quiet it gave him. And he hadn’t forgotten that holiday he promised Emma. They both deserved a much well-earned break. That said, the last few days had been rather hectic, organising the end of show party.
Felix wasn’t one to scrimp and had ordered enough booze to sink a ship. Emma had arranged for outside caterers to prepare all the food. She smirked to herself, wondering if, under different circumstances,she’dhave been the one to sort it out, then giggled, recalling when Polly had called her ‘the real lady of the house’. Well, she was now.
Felix and Emma had asked for a 1920s dress code. Each thought it would add a touch of glamour and fun. Bunty had been thrilled when hearing this, claiming it would be just like the ‘old days’ when her mother had enjoyed the same style at her parties in the Art Deco house. Both she and Perry had been invited, as had Jasmine and Robin.
On Felix’s insistence, Emma was to wear the same outfit he’d seen her in for the first time. Emma had sat playing the piano in the hall at Bunty’s open house day wearing a gold beaded dress, complete with a crystal chain headpiece.
‘You will sing for us, won’t you?’ Felix asked.
‘Maybe,’ she shrugged, not wanting to steal the limelight.
‘Go on,’ he coaxed, with a winning smile.
