Daisy
Daisy had been subbed in to cover an interview with the cast of the new action filmSilent and Deadly. She left the office early and walked to Mayfair, joining the other journalists who were waiting in one of the hotel rooms at the Dorchester. There was a selection of sandwiches and cakes and tea and coffee, with big posters around the room featuring stars Annabelle Fletcher and Nate Bark, back-to-back, staring at the camera.
Daisy and Zack had gone to see the film the previous evening. Free screenings of early-releases were the one part of Daisy’s job that Zack really committed to, and for once they’d agreed on how much they loved it. She could see why it was getting so much attention. It was more than just an action film; there were hard-hitting themes of betrayal and grief and trust that left journalists staring at the screen for a long time after it finished. In Daisy’s experience that was the sign of a hit movie. As she waited for her interview slot, she started to scribble down some questions that could be used repeatedly, especially around award season—no doubt it would get nominated.
“Be careful,” a reporter said, walking back into the room and grabbing a sandwich. He worked for one of the nationalradio stations and Daisy had seen him at most of these junkets. “Annabelle isnotin a good mood today. Pretty much one-word answers which is entirely fucking useless for radio.” He picked up his bag and another sandwich and left the room.
Ten minutes later another journalist returned.
“Jeez, what do they expect us to do with those interviews? There’s no sound bites. I might not even bother running it.”
Frowning, Daisy typed Annabelle’s name into Google for a second time, this time clicking on the news tab. Something must have happened. She was normally one of the nicer A-listers to interview, sometimes even appearing to enjoy the publicity part of the hamster wheel she was on, unlike most of them. Daisy was used to being met with straight faces or eye rolls, because it was audio-only. One celebrity had even done the entirety of an interview lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed. Annabelle wasn’t like that.
Daisy scanned a few articles dating back through the months and years. She landed on the story just as her name was called, pinning it to her memory as the assistant led her into a different hotel room down the hallway, where Annabelle sat waiting in an armchair.
Daisy took the seat opposite her and waited for the nod from the assistant.
“Congratulations on the film,” she said, taking her seat.
“Thanks.” Annabelle kept her gaze on the table ahead of her, where a bunch of pink roses gave off a scent that filled the room.
“How was it to work with Nate again after the success ofLife Before?”
“It was fun,” she said, looking down at her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, Daisy caught the assistant’s shoulders drop as she let out a sigh. Three words wasn’t enough of a quote to put out on national radio. She’d try one more time.
“It’s quite a different genre of film for you. Is action something you’ll do more of now?” she moved the microphone toward Annabelle’s mouth.
“I guess I’ll see what scripts come my way,” she replied, glancing away again.
Daisy had done interviews like this before, and it took so much longer to slice together tiny bits of audio to make a clip that even lasted ten seconds. She could already tell she wasn’t going to get anything more from Annabelle if she continued down this path. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back in her chair. She didn’t have anything to lose.
“I can’t imagine you want to be doing these today,” Daisy said and Anabelle looked up, her dark brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail as her infamous bright blue eyes landed on Daisy’s face. She continued. “My dad died fifteen years ago and I still struggle with the anniversary of his death and I don’t know that I’d be able to be sitting where you are, and I’m really sorry.” Tom appeared in her head as she said those words and she smiled lightly. “In fact, my friend and I were talking about the worst responses we’ve had to telling people one of our parents has died and he said he didn’t like ‘I’m really sorry,’ but I don’t mind it.” She was talking too much. The assistant took a step forward, frowning.
Anabelle’s mouth twisted into a tight smile. “I was estranged from my dad when he died,” she replied. “To be honest he wasn’t a very nice man, and I’m annoyed I woke up feeling so sad about it.”
Daisy swallowed. She needed to stay professional, try not to make it about herself. “It makes the grief even more complex, doesn’t it? When you’re not even sure if you liked them that much.”
Annabelle’s face creased as she broke into a real smile, her eyes sad but shining. “Right? Like should I even be grieving thisarsehole? Does he deserve my tears? I don’t know... What’s so messed up about it all is that the reason I took this role is because I knew he would have loved this movie. It had everything in it that made him happy. Guns and shoot-outs. Action. A male hero,” she added, rolling her eyes. “A woman just wanting someone to love, even if that man is flawed.” She turned to glance out the window, which looked out over Hyde Park. “My dad was a romantic and so am I. I guess amongst all the shit he left behind, he left me with that, right? Like a small part of me wonders if he sent me this film.”
Daisy nodded. She understood. “It would make perfect sense.”
“Only to people like us, who know,” Annabelle replied. “I look for signs all the time, do you?”
Daisy shook her head, a cold chill moving through her. “I used to,” she said, trying not to think too far back.
Annabelle reached across and rested her hand on top of Daisy’s. “I understand,” she whispered, patting it. “Sometimes it’s easier to avoid the disappointment.”
“It is,” Daisy said. “Speaking of disappointment, you narrowly missed out on the Best Actress nomination at the Oscars last year, but I’m hearing a lot of talk about it for this. How do you feel?”
“I feel like my time will come,” she replied. “It’s very difficult to be a woman of a certain age in this industry. A lot of the roles lose all substance. You go from being the love interest to the mum, with no real gap in between.” Her eyes darkened and Daisy leaned farther forward, nodding. The assistant stepped back and, finally, sat down.
On the bus the next day, Daisy beckoned Tom toward her, excited to show him what she’d found. She’d been sucked intoOrlandothe moment she got home, gripped by the beautifulprose Woolf was so famous for and underlining any important-looking lines as she went through.
“Okay, so I figured we’d try one thing at a time, and I’ve got my first idea,” she said to Tom, a smile on his lips as he took the seat beside her, hair ruffled and eyes bright, as the bus pulled away from his stop and out into the darkness toward King’s Cross Station. From the scent filling the air, the woman who got on at Essex Road with some prawn cocktail crisps had now opened them.
“Hit me,” he said. “You’re wearing your black jacket,” he added, motioning toward her. “I like that one.”
Daisy looked down at the outfit she’d pulled on under the light of her phone torch that morning, one of her five on rotation.
