There’s an undertone here. It seems to imply that it wouldn’t be too hard for her to recast one of the leads. That if she were to do so, it wouldn’t necessarily be Steele.
Bonami gets the message. ‘It’s your film.’
‘It is,’ Clara says. ‘And I don’t need to ask your permission about casting. That’s not in your contract.’
A frosty silence. Each waits for the other to speak. It’s Clara who relents, eventually. She seems to know it’s her job to keep things running smoothly.
‘Look,’ she says, with a sigh. ‘I’m not asking you to be his best friend. I’m just asking you to trust me.’ A silence. ‘That wouldn’t have been so outlandish, once.’
Adèle can’t help but wonder at the meaning of this. What’s happened between them. What’s still happening.
‘You’re good together, the two of you,’ Clara adds, testing the water.
‘So people keep saying,’ Bonami replies. ‘It’s intensely annoying.’
Another silence, less cold, but not exactly warm. Over thesoundtrack of the west London traffic, Adèle hears a progression of sighs, of clicked teeth, of two people shifting on their feet.
‘OK,’ Seb says finally. ‘I trust you. I believe in you.’
‘Thank you,’ Clara says, her voice rigid and professional.
‘I want this film to be good,’ Seb says. ‘You deserve it. If anyone knows how hard you work, it’s me.’
A pause. ‘Thank you,’ she says again. Softer. More sincere.
Another silence. Another topic neither of them wants to broach.
‘When is it happening?’ Clara asks, after a while. She isn’t speaking as a director any more. Her tone commands nothing, does not demand an easy answer. ‘Did Nimesh say when?’
‘He said it’ll be obvious,’ Bonami says. ‘It’s about quality of life.’
‘Obvious,’ Clara repeats, sounding almost angry. ‘That’s easy for him to say.’
‘It’s not easy for him. And it’s not his fault.’
The sharp response doesn’t seem to surprise Clara. She’s touching a nerve.
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘It’s an impossible decision.’
‘I know,’ says Bonami. His own voice is distant, like he’s lost in his own head. ‘I don’t want to make it.’
Another pause, and Adèle imagines Clara reaching for his hand. Does he take hers? Does he hold on to it for long? Perhaps she doesn’t reach out after all. Perhaps the distance between them has grown too wide.
‘I don’t know how to fix this,’ Clara says. It’s clear she isn’t talking about the film, because there’s something new in her voice. Something fearful. Something desperately sad.
Bonami says nothing at all.
a veterinary nurse
There’s an electric candle on the front desk, and a sign in front of it that asks visitors to be respectful when the fake flame is lit. You don’t have to spell out everything. That’s why they write ‘P.T.S.’ in the schedule when they have to do this, and why the shadow of this particular P.T.S. has been looming over everyone at the practice all day. It will be done last thing, once the final patient has been seen. That way, Nimesh won’t have to put on a brave face for anyone afterwards.
‘Are you OK?’ the nurse asks, after that last patient has left.
Nimesh takes a slow breath. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘It’s not about me.’
Her boss wants to solve everything. To save everyone. It affects him, when he can’t. Most vets have to do this at least once a day. Sometimes, half a dozen times. How could that not take a toll?
They arrive late, a small bell above the door tinkling at their entrance. First, Seb, beanie hat and flannel jacket, a leather lead in one hand. Then Jasper, hobbling slowly across the threshold on legs that seem as if they’re made of wood. He totters, his head bowed, waiting patiently to be pointed in which direction he should go.
