Page 72 of Not Moving Out
‘Elle can make it at about seven, does that work?’ said Dolly, who quickly sensed the tension between us, and probably saw my face. ‘Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
‘No, it’s okay,’ I said. ‘Seven is fine.’
‘Right, okay,’ said Dolly uncertainly, and then she turned around and left.
‘I’ll see you at the restaurant,’ I said to Joe, and then I left, walking quickly out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my bedroom. If there was one thing I needed at that moment, it was some peace and quiet. I flung myself down on my bed, and I lay there staring up at the ceiling, unable to comprehend the conversation I’d had with Joe. Did he really want to get back together or was he just freaking out because the reality of Dolly leaving and us selling the house was fast approaching? Did he really want to see a marriage counsellor, or was it just one final futile attempt to save our marriage because he was more scared of being alone than talking to a stranger about his feelings? The problem was that I just couldn’t trust him any more. He had lied too much, too often, and it had left a hole in my heart I wasn’t sure he could fill again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Joe
I was standing outside the BBC on Langham Street plucking up the courage to go in. Carl was already inside waiting for me, and had texted me multiple times to make sure I was on time. We had a meeting with the head of comedy and drama, the head of output, the head of format, director of creativity and inclusivity, and someone else whose title I hadn’t yet been made aware of. This was it. I’d had a meeting with Carl two weeks before where he had told me that the BBC loved the script, loved the idea of working with me again, and all I had to do was show up for a meeting to cross the t’s and dot the i’s. They were so worried about losing another sitcom to Channel 4, Netflix, Amazon, or basically anyone else who might be interested, that Carl was convinced everything was in my favour. I wasn’t letting myself get carried away though because this was television and it was, if anything, fickle. One moment you were the flavour of the month and the next you were the flavour nobody ordered and had to get taken off the menu because they literally couldn’t give it away.
I took a deep breath, then I started walking towards the building, ready to hopefully begin the next chapter of my life.
The last few weeks with Freya had been challenging to say the least. After our big argument we had barely spoken, but then we got together to celebrate Dolly’s A-level results, and I laid everything on the line. I was ready to try again, I would see a marriage counsellor, and I told her I still loved her because I did. Perhaps it had taken losing her to realise just how much I wanted her, but I had been too late. She hadn’t wanted to discuss it then, said she needed space and time, and I had given her nothing but space and time and still she hadn’t said anything. She had moved home at least, and we had settled into patterns of uneasy communication around each other, which was somewhat unsettling. Obviously, I was too late with my big speech, and now it felt like we were just waiting for Dolly to move to Durham at the end of September. Freya was off to New York for a week with her Cold Water Club ladies, and I had this meeting. All talk ofushad been postponed until an unknown time in the future. I had been trying not to think about it too much because I needed this meeting to go well. This felt like a tipping point.
I met Carl in reception, and we were greeted by a young girl called Lottie, who took us up to a meeting room where we were met by the BBC team, headed by the head of comedy and drama, Peter Darcy-Hopkins. He was fifty-something, tall and dressed in a navy suit.
‘Joe, it’s wonderful to finally put a name to a face,’ said Peter, in a posh voice.
‘You, too,’ I replied.
‘Carl, welcome. Right, Lottie, umm, coffee for everyone, and pastries,’ said Peter, and then Lottie left the room. ‘Right. Joe, this is Magda Blackman, head of output, Jacinda B, senior communications officer, Jasper Hynes, head of format, director of creativity and inclusivity, and that was Lottie Whitehall, my personal PA.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you all,’ I said, and we sat at a long wooden table in a trendy and contemporary meeting room. The energy of the BBC was just as I remembered it when I first met to discussThe Morningsall those years ago. The people had changed but the vibe was very much the same. It felt good to be back on the inside again, after years of feeling like I was in the wilderness.
‘Right, let’s start by talking aboutThe Mornings,’ said Peter.
‘Loved it!’ said Magda Blackman. ‘I must have watched it at least ten times.’
‘Yes, we all loved it,’ said Peter. ‘But that was very much then, and this is definitely now.’
Lottie opened the door to our room, and returned with a tray full of coffee, before she left and then returned with another tray of pastries. Everyone immediately started helping themselves. Carl was next to me, and he just had a coffee, while I grabbed an apple Danish and a coffee. After she was done, Lottie took a seat at the table.
‘The thing is, Joe, that we loveHouse Shared,’ said Peter, a pain au chocolat in his hand. ‘And it’s exactly the sort of thing we want to add to our line-up.’
‘Right, great,’ I said, taking a sip of coffee, which had definitely improved over the years.
‘Yes, it is rather great,’ said Peter. ‘The thing is, we had an idea, or rather Jasper had an idea, didn’t you, Jasper?’
‘I did,’ said Jasper. Jasper was younger than Peter, perhaps early forties, dark hair, well groomed, with a colourful yellow tie, and he had a northern accent of some sort. Leeds? ‘And this is the idea. Are you ready?’
I looked at Carl, who nodded at me.
‘Ready,’ I replied.
‘What if, and this is very much a what-if scenario, but what if we tookHouse Sharedand expanded it, this way, that way, and perhaps if needed, another way?’ said Jasper, using his hands to fully demonstrate all the ways in whichHouse Sharedcould be expanded.
‘Sorry, you’ve lost me,’ I replied. ‘What do you mean by expanded?’
‘That’s the exciting bit!’ said Jasper. ‘That’s entirely up to you!’
‘In many ways, what Jasper is trying to say,’ chipped in Peter, when he could see the look of complete and utter bafflement that had moved onto my face, ‘is that we loveHouseSharedin its current format, but perhaps there is room to add to it, certainly in terms of content and perhaps also format.’
‘I’m sorry, Peter,’ said Carl. ‘What is it that you’re saying, exactly?’
‘The thing is, we loved the show, but I also thought that maybe it could be more than just a sitcom in the literal sense of the term, “sitcom”,’ said Jasper, not really adding an awful lot of clarity.
