Page 91 of The Last Train Home
‘Where’d you get that idea from?’ I deadpan.
‘Ah, you know. Genius just arrives, doesn’t it?’ he sniggers.
‘Maybe one should be a daughter,’ I suggest. ‘Might alienate a few girls if the show’s too boy-centric.’
He nods, ‘Yeah. Yeah, true. Then it can be about how dads navigate raising girls alone, as well. But funny,’ he’s quick to say.
I watch Teddy and Oliver as they both bundle downstairs, raid Teddy’s crate of toys for something specific each and then hurl themselves back up the stairs again.
‘Maybe make it a little bit close to the bone,’ I suggest. ‘But not close enough that five-year-olds start asking awkward questions.’
‘Two single dads trying not to fuck up their kids,’ Andy says. ‘Obviously that’s not going to be the pitch I’ll go in with.’
‘Go in with?’
‘To investors or production companies, or whoever. I’m not really sure how it works. I’m serious about this, though,’ he enthuses. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but it’s only since getting to know you that it’s really come to me how this could work. I’ve tweaked the original concept a bit, you know. Because we actually live this life,’ he says. ‘It’s painful, it’s funny, it’s energy-zapping, it’s brilliant.’
Itisall of those things, and so much more. ‘Will it be humans or animals?’ I ask.
He turns the drawing round to show me a tired-looking dog, upright – not quite a Labrador, but not quite identifiable as any breed I know, either. Beside it is a bright-eyed puppy with a football shirt on.
‘Dogs? That could work. Who’d write it?’
‘I’m a book illustrator, but I know loads of funny children’s authors. We can rope a couple of them in.’
‘We?’
‘You’re coming in on this, aren’t you?’ he says as if it was never in question. ‘You know finance people, and you’ve got a brain. Two things I don’t really have going for me.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’ve got a brain – you’ve created a children’s cartoon.’ I sip my beer thoughtfully. ‘I do know people,’ I say. ‘Quite a few actually.’ I’ve kept up with people in the City, even if I haven’t managed toreallykeep up with them. My old graduate trainee, Samuel, works at an investment bank now and has his own graduate trainee to look after. And Debbie, who I worked with years ago and always got on with, is now PA for the director of a hedge fund. And there’s loads of others I know in good positions around the City. Not sure how I never managed to slot back in. Perhaps I never really wanted it. ‘I suppose I could ask around, see what investors we could be introduced to. Our investments are doing pretty well. We could cash out a bit more and put in a healthy chunk, to show serious willing.’
‘Tell me again what you used to do in the banking world?’ he asks.
This must be the hundredth time I’ll have told him. ‘Analyst.’
‘That’s right.’ He sits up straight, clicks his fingers for emphasis. ‘You can analyse the children’s cartoon market – make our pitch strong.’
‘That’s not quite what—‘ I start, but Andy’s in full flow now.
‘Find out where we’d sit in the market, which production companies have room for another cartoon, which don’t have any at all, and who might be interested. What are our strengths? What are our weaknesses, opportunities, threats?’ he says as if reading from a business-studies textbook. ‘Who’s our competition?’
‘Peppa Pig,’ I say without hesitation.
He tuts. ‘Other than the sodding pig.’
We sit quietly, each drifting off into another world, five years from now when we’ve done really well out of a children’s cartoon.
‘Just think,’ he says. ‘This year, it’s a pilot episode—’
‘This year?’ I cut in. ‘Running before we can walk a bit, aren’t we? Let me guess: next year it’s a range of backpacks, lunchboxes and pyjamas?’
‘Nah, mate,’ Andy says, raising his beer to cheers me. ‘Next year it’s a BAFTA.’
Chapter 58
Abbie
March 2010
