Page 19 of Mistaken Impression

“No. She thinks actors are two a penny.”

“Thanks. I only came here to get insulted.”

Ruby smiles. “Sorry. It’s her opinion, not mine. The only people to whom she’s prepared to pay the going rate, are directors and scriptwriters. She says they’re the ones who can make or break a show. The rest of us are eminently replaceable.”

“And you put up with that?” Ella’s clearly shocked.

“Yes, but only because it suits me. I enjoy working here, because I actually get to see my husband.” I don’t think Ella or I do a very good job of hiding our surprise, judging by the smile on Ruby’s face.

“Who’s your husband?” I ask.

“Gavin.”

“The scriptwriter?” Ella says.

“Yes. And that’s why Kennedy can’t afford to fire me. She knows if I go, Gavin will leave, too… and he’s one of the best in the business.”

“So, not eminently replaceable?”

“Anything but…”

“Did you meet here?” I ask, feeling intrigued, even though I know it’s a personal question.

“Yes. Three years ago. That was when I started here. We’ve been married for eighteen months, but with the hours we have to keep, if we didn’t work together, we’d never see each other.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a couple who worked together, as well as lived together… not successfully.” I can’t think of anyone, anyway, and I know I’d never have been able to do it with any of my exes.

“I have,” Ella says, and I turn to look at her. “My brother’s just got engaged to his PA.”

“You see? It can be done,” Ruby says, and we both look back at her to find she’s smiling up at us. “Now… before Kennedy comes back and finds us all still talking, I think you two had better get back to work, don’t you?”

Ella nods her head with a half-hearted smile and heads for the door. “I’ll bring my ideas over as soon as they’re ready,” she says, although her lack of enthusiasm is hard to miss, and I follow her from the room, closing the door behind me.

Back in the rehearsal studio, Ella flops down into one of the chairs, puts her elbows on the table, and dips her head, resting it on her upturned hands. She’s a picture of dejection and I wander over, standing beside her.

“I’m sorry,” I say, resisting the urge to put a hand on her shoulder.

She looks up, frowning. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who called you a puppet.”

“I know, but it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

She’s not wrong. I didn’t ask to be here, or to be a puppet, but she’s upset and I want to help.

She sighs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this…”

“Believe what?” I ask.

“This…” She waves her arm around the room, sitting back. “Doing this job was going to be complicated enough as it was, but I assumed I’d be working with a professional.”

“Thanks…” I was trying to be nice, but I don’t know why I bothered.

“What for?” She frowns up at me again.

“The half-arsed apology.”

“Half-arsed?”

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