Page 58 of The Good Part
‘I thought you weren’t allowed to offer cash prizes to kids any more,’ Leon says. ‘Ever since that boy onWho Wants to Be a Child Billionairegot mugged by one of the show’s producers.’
‘It doesn’t have to be cash,’ I say. ‘It could be anything, sweets, vouchers.’
‘Sweets?’ Trey asks horrified, as though I’ve suggested we reward them with class A narcotics.
‘Does it feel morally dubious to be rewarding kids for lying?’ Dominique asks.
‘Okay, forget the lying idea. How about a kids’ talent contest? We get a team of children to put on their own circus each week. They’ll have to do everything; find all the acts, organise rehearsals, and then every Saturday night is the big live show – it’sThe ApprenticemeetsThe Greatest Showman.’
‘What are those shows? Sorry, I’ve not heard of them,’ Trey asks and I realise these must be very dated references now.
Michael is looking at me in bemusement, as though these are not the kind of ideas he was expecting me to suggest.
‘I love talent shows,’ Callum says, grinning up at me like a loyal Labrador.
‘Or, I had this other idea.’ I decide to just keep talking, throwing everything I’ve got at the wall, and hoping something sticks. ‘A fish out of water show, called “Geeks Go to War”. We get the nerdiest, geekiest, least outdoorsy teenagers we can find, and then we send them to train with the marines! Hilarious, huh?’
There’s a collective intake of breath around the room.
‘What?’ I ask, looking down to check my shirt hasn’t just popped open.
‘Um, I imagine you’re using that term ironically,’ Michael says, ‘but that kind of marginalising language would never wash with the channel. Especially in a show aimed at young people.’
‘As someone who identifies as “technologically inclined”, it’s a little too soon to be reclaiming the pejorative,’ Leon says, shaking his head. ‘Geek’? Pejorative? Perhaps I’m out of step with modern sensibilities.
Michael’s eyebrows have furrowed into new depths of concern. I’m drowning here, and I need to pull out a sure-fire winner. Rummaging in my bag, I find the book I brought in, a middle grade series about space exploration. Future Me had an adaptation proposal saved on her laptop under ‘New ideas’. It’s perfect for this time slot.
‘So, this book,Star Gazersis ideal for an adaptation – it’s informative and exciting...’ I’m about to go on, but everyone is looking at me warily again, as though not only is my blouse undone, but I’ve now sprouted a second head.
‘You want to re-pitchStar Gazers,’ Michael frowns, ‘even though Sky didn’t go for the pilot?’
They’ve already made it. Damn, that detail didn’t come up in any of the notes. That was my fail-safe big idea. My mind goes blank, but my mouth keeps talking.
‘Right, scrap that then.’ Here goes nothing. ‘Three words for you – helicopters, conger, eels.’
Silence. Something tells me this pitch meeting has not gone well.
‘Team, let’s rain check on this,’ Michael says, pushing back his chair and standing up. ‘We’ll resume play when Lucy and I have had a chance to talk strategy a bit more.’
The team all shoot each other worried looks as they troop out. Striding over to the window, I yank it open. ‘Is it hot in here?’
Michael shuts the door behind the others before saying, ‘Lucy, what’s going on?’ His voice is full of concern, puncturing my delusion that I could pull this off. I feel myself physically deflate.
‘I’m sorry I’m off my game,’ I say, still facing the window, bracing myself. I’ll have to tell him. ‘The truth is, the reason I was off last week, I’ve been having some memory issues.’ I pause, wondering how best to phrase it, but when I turn to face him, Michael is nodding, as though he’s been expecting this.
‘Brain fog?’ Michael suggests, and I nod. ‘I suspected it might be that, what with the hot flushes and the mood swings. One never wants to presume. Jane went through the same.’
‘Mood swings?’
‘Sorry if I’m overstepping. It was hard not to notice you came in on Friday an entirely different person. Just like Jane, she was up and down like a yoyo. The hormone patches did wonders to level her out, though.’ He reaches out to squeeze my hand. ‘I’ve done my Menopausal Sensitivity Training. Anything you need, Lucy – a longer break, extra support, a desk fan, you just let me know.’
‘I’m afraid it’s a little more than brain fog, Michael. It’s – ’ I pause again, distracted by the sight of Trey through the glass. He’s sitting with his head in his hands.Is he crying?
‘Just like Jane, she was always losing track of what she was saying mid-sentence.’
‘No, I don’t remember anything. Last week I didn’t know your name, I didn’t know I worked here, I didn’t even know I had a husband and children.’
‘Just like Jane.’ Michael puffs out his cheeks, then lowers his voice. ‘I haven’t told you this, but I once found her in bed with a man she met at a bus stop. She was so apologetic, but it was all down to the menopause, she simply forgot she was married.’
