Page 46 of Not Moving Out
‘Definitely. Crack on with it. I really think this could be something. In the meeting today they were asking if I had something like this. A multigenerational prime-time comedy series, and I mentioned it, explained the concept and that you were attached, and they thought it was a fabulous idea.’
‘Blimey, right, I’d better get cracking then.’
‘I’ll send over the pilot to my contacts at the BBC and see what they think, get some early feedback, but if they love it as much as I think they will, this could really be something. Everyone loves a good comeback story, and this, Joe, could be yours! Now, have you told Freya about it yet?’
‘Well, umm, not exactly.’
‘Then you must because if this does get commissioned, I don’t want any problems down the track. The last thing we need is to get the green light, and then the ex-wife gets pissed off, and the whole thing gets pulled because of the threat of legal action. Have the conversation, Joe.’
‘Right, will do.’
‘But otherwise, I’m all in and very excited. This has the feeling of a hit, and now with all the streaming platforms, plus all the old boys desperate not to get left behind or miss the boat on something, there’s more chance than ever of something like this getting made. It’s bang on the zeitgeist, Joe, and you know how much I love the fucking zeitgeist!’
I couldn’t believe how positive he was about it. Carl was an agent, and it was his job to blow smoke up the bottoms of creatives like me, and wine and dine the people who bought scripts like the BBC. Carl knew how to work people and how to get what he wanted, but he was also a realist and he hated wasting anyone’s time, especially his own. He knew giving me the green light to go ahead and write a full series of six episodes would mean a serious chunk of time, and if he didn’t think it was good, he would have told me. He knew how to make things sound better than they were, but he also knew when something was never going to work, and he would tell you straight. I had pitched him numerous ideas over the years that he had told me weren’t strong enough. He would tell me to come back with something better, bigger, funnier, more dramatic with a higher concept. He didn’t blow smoke up my bottom because he knew we didn’t have the time, and also we had worked together for so long, he knew I didn’t need the smoke.
‘There is one thing I want you to focus on going forward,’ said Carl with a slight note of caution in his voice.
‘Right.’
‘The daughter. I think her story needs more layers, Joe. At the moment she’s just a little, err, one-dimensional, you know. A bit of a clothes horse. Any ideas?’
Fuck. I had already thought about using Dolly coming out as gay in the show, it was gold, but I couldn’t. It was bad enough that Freya didn’t know I was writing a sitcom about the break-up of our marriage, the last thing I could do was use my own daughter’s sexual awakening, too. I already knew I was on thin ice with Freya after the whole therapy argument, I couldn’t risk losing Dolly as well. Whatever I did with the character, it just couldn’t be that.
‘Leave it with me, Carl. I’ll think of something.’
‘Because I think you’ve nailed Kate and Dan, but it feels like the daughter is a little too, you know, pointless. She needs an edge. Find the edge, Joe!’
‘Right. Got it. Find the edge!’
‘Good man.’
Carl and I spoke for another twenty minutes on the show, and his ideas going forward, and a possible timeline of future episodes, before we said goodbye. I promised Carl I would have some more scripts for him soon. I would deliver each episode after it was done, and he would offer editorial advice, script changes, ideas, and together over the next few months we would craft the first series. Perhaps if the BBC really loved it, we would get into meetings with them soon.
One thing Carl said before he left was that he wanted to get this done quickly because he felt like we had a window of opportunity. At that moment, there was nothing else like it in production, and if we could get it ready for meetings as quickly as possible, it stood a better chance. All I heard was:Start writing and don’t stop until it’s done because your whole bloody future depends on it!The biggest issue was that I needed to tell Freya about it and soon.
After the dinner with Maya, things with Freya had been marginally better. It really felt like having that night together had somehow connected us again, and I didn’t want to ruin it by telling her about the show. On the other hand, surely the longer I waited, the more difficult it would become, and I didn’t want that either. Plus, there was the constant guilt that moved around inside of me like a computer virus, shutting down apps and causing involuntary glitches. I was caught between a particular jagged rock and a very hard place, and I wasn’t keen on either.
After the Zoom meeting, I went downstairs and popped the kettle on. I would get my tea, and then head back upstairs to work. I needed to find some additional layers for the daughter, which definitely couldn’t be that she was gay. Perhaps an abusive boyfriend? No, too dark for a sitcom. Recently dumped and heartbroken? Perhaps but a little cliched. I obviously needed to spend more time on this. She needed an edge, and I had to find it. Perhaps the success or failure of the whole project depended on it.
I trudged back up the stairs, my cup of tea in hand, thoughts swirling through my mind. A deluge of ideas and things I had to do. I had never been particularly good at multitasking and now I had so many thoughts carefully balanced one on top of the other, I had the notion that I needed to be careful, or they might all come toppling down one after the other, and I would be left in a messy heap. It wasn’t the first time I’d had that thought recently, and it was slightly unsettling because there had been times in my life when I had been so clear-thinking, focused and completely in charge of my life, but perhaps these complications were good because they were at the very heart ofHouse Shared. Love was more straightforward when we were younger, at the beginning of life, but as we got older, our lives were full of baggage, and maintaining love became harder and harder. My marriage had started out as this beautiful, wonderful thing that had come to me so easily like the world’s greatest gift, but it had been inflicted with the intricacies of middle age, and crumbled under the weight. This was what I was writing about, and so I had to embrace the carnage because that was life and truth, and surely life and truth could both be fucking hilarious.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Freya
I had been to Cold Water Club, showered, had breakfast with Dolly, and I had finally arrived at work, full of energy and purpose. Since dinner with Maya, my relationship with Dolly had significantly improved to the point where this morning we actually laughed together over breakfast, and had an interesting and in-depth conversation about Extinction Rebellion. Luckily Joe wasn’t involved because he hated Extinction Rebellion and thought they were quite annoying. The last time we had spoken about them he had said, ‘I just don’t think pissing everyone off and destroying great works of art is the way to get your message across.’ Dolly and I didn’t share that view. It was lovely to have breakfast with my daughter where she wasn’t glued to her phone and we actually chatted.
I was in the kitchen at work making a coffee, and preparing myself for the day ahead, when Sam walked in. I had just put the milk back in the fridge, and I was stirring my coffee, when Sam was suddenly next to me. He looked ever so handsome in a slim navy suit, a crisp white shirt with a cutaway collar, a knitted navy tie and his usual delicious aftershave that hit my nose, sending waves of dopamine and serotonin coursing throughout my body. I had no idea how much his aftershave cost, but surely it was worth every last penny.
‘Morning,’ said Sam.
‘Morning,’ I replied.
‘How are you?’ said Sam, getting himself a pod for the coffee machine, and grabbing a mug from the cupboard. They had twenty or so white mugs with the Becket, Godwin & Anderson logo stashed away in cupboards for us to use.
‘Good. I went to Cold Water Club with Lucy this morning.’
‘Ah, yes, she mentioned that to me before. You take a dip in the freezing cold sea at some ludicrous hour of the morning, I believe.’
