Cherringham--Playing Dead Read Online Free Page A

hospital, I’ve had the maid quit muttering about the theatre being dangerous after food poisoning … and we are just weeks away from opening night. So, how do you think I feel about all those accidents?”
    Sarah nodded. Then her eye caught a small bureau in the corner, and a battered old trunk overflowing with papers and what she assumed were scripts. On a table beside it was a laptop and some gold and silver plaques.
    Even from here, she could see they were citations … awards of some kind.
    He travels with his awards.
    Then back to the director — who she was sure was about to give her the heave-ho.
    “No theory on the food poisoning, or the light that hit Graham?”
    “Things happen, Sarah. We’re all being extra vigilant now. Trust me; there will be no more accidents. And yes, that’s exactly what they were.”
    She nodded as if Kramer’s assurances were enough.
    Then she pointed to the array of plaques.
    “You have won some major awards. Mind if I…?”
    She stood up.
    This new direction clearly suited Kramer. “Oh, just a few things. To remind me of how high the quality bar can — and should be — held.”
    Sarah walked over to the bureau and picked up one plaque.
    “A BAFTA?”
    “Yes, for directing that series the The Fading Light . The one about the returning soldier, Indian Army story, remember…?
    “Gosh I certainly do. At school it was all we talked about. I think mum had a crush on the star — what’s his name?”
    “Hmm, well ‘what’s his name’ is in his sixties now. You know, I still get fan mail about it, decades later. And—”
    Kramer’s phone trilled and he dug it out of his pocket. “Hel-lo? Tim? Good man. Was expecting your call, and … oh. I see. But I would still love to — oh, right. The producer’s not in yet. Got it. Right. LA, sure.”
    Kramer nodded at Sarah a single finger in the air indicating that she need not rush.
    After all, they were discussing Jez Kramer’s brilliant achievements.
    “I know. Traffic is crazy. Right I, well, I’ll be here. Maybe this afternoon … oh, okay. Whenever, then. ‘All ears’, as they say. By-e!”
    He quickly explained the significance of the call.
    “New project for BBC America. Operating out of Los Angeles, can you imagine that? They could use a steady, experienced hand like mine at the tiller. So, yes—”
    He did a good job of dissembling and hiding his disappointment at the visit that had obviously been deferred.
    She guessed that LA and BBC America weren’t summoning Jez Kramer to ride to the rescue.
    Then he took a step closer to Sarah.
    “Say, I just had a thought. That is, if you have no more questions.”
    Enough for now, Sarah thought.
    “We’re down a maid in the cast. Not an enormous role, but you’d be perfect . And, for your profile, you’d get to see me ‘in action’, as we say. Add a bit of ‘colour’ to the piece.”
    Sarah laughed. “I’m not really an actress, Jez. I think the last thing I did was play a shepherd in the Christmas play when I was seven.”
    “Listen. You look the part, and you speak well—”
    This guy judges everyone and everything it seems.
    “—I won’t take no for an answer. Will you at least, think about it? A ‘maybe’? We have the next rehearsal tomorrow night. I do believe that you’ll fit the maid’s costume perfectly.”
    She smiled, nodding, “Okay I will think about it.”
    He put down his teacup and clapped his hands together. Then — another unwelcome move — he gave her a big hug, probably standard behaviour among the directing/acting set.
    “Fantastic. You will have a ball.”
    Based on what her mother had said Sarah thought that was unlikely.
    “As I said — I’ll think about it,” she reminded him.
    “Yes, absolutely.”
    He guided her out to the kitchen and the back door.
    “And do be careful reversing. Lovely cottage, but that horrible driveway was made for grocery carts, not cars!”
    Then he opened the door.
    “Thanks,” she said,