People don"t usually resign without another offer on the table.
12.06 p.m.
I"m standing outside a house near Hove Park, watching the filming of next week"s Where There"s a Will. In front of me, Dan is flirting with the make-up girl, who looks about twelve years old. As she fusses over his hair, he catches my eye and makes the "what-can-you-do?" face.
I often like to kid Dan that he owes his entire television career to me. And it"s true, almost. About three years ago, Natasha had given me a couple of tickets to some charity auction she"d been invited to but couldn"t make. I"d of course asked Jane but she"d not been particularly keen-"Some drunken p.i.s.s-up where you"re supposed to pay fifty pounds for a pair of Robbie Williams" soiled underpants? No thanks!" had been her exact words. When I"d mentioned it to Dan, once he"d ascertained that there would be women there, he"d gone for it like a shot.
Anyway, we"re in the bar afterwards, where I"ve accidentally (if you can call any actions induced by the imbibing of two bottles of champagne an accident) poured my drink down this girl"s top. She would have made a scene if Dan hadn"t flashed his smile and rushed to her rescue, and they immediately hit it off, if you see what I mean. It turns out that she"s a TV producer for the BBC, and the next thing you know, Dan"s screen-testing for this new antiques programme she"s working on. The rest, as he likes to say, is entertainment history.
With a couple of dabs of a sponge, the make-up girl reluctantly finishes whatever it was she was doing. Dan turns and grins at the camera.
"We"re rolling," shouts the director.
"h.e.l.lo," says Dan, smile on full-beam, "and welcome to this week"s edition of Where There"s a Will. As the saying goes, "You don"t know what you"ve got until it"s gone." Well, this is the show where you don"t know what you"re going to get until your parents are gone. Today, we"re in Hove at the home of John and Susan Walters, to help them sort through the estate of John"s parents Ted and Renee."
"Cut," shouts the director. "Perfect, Dan. Let"s set up for the next shot."
The camera equipment and lights are moved into position, and Dan is joined in front of the house by a nervous-looking middle-aged couple.
"And...cue Dan," shouts the director.
Dan"s expression changes from sycophantic to sympathetic. "h.e.l.lo John, h.e.l.lo Susan," he says. "Now, John, I believe your parents died in particularly tragic circ.u.mstances?"
"Yes," replies John gravely, as Susan sniffs quietly behind him. "They were killed when a tanker from the local dairy hit their car."
"I am sorry," says Dan, putting a consoling arm round Susan, which causes her to perk up somewhat. "But still, there"s no point crying over spilt milk, is there?"
"Cut," shouts the director. "Just stick to the script will you, please, Dan?"
"Okay. Sorry."
The cameras move to close-up, and Dan readies himself for the show"s catchphrase.
"So..." he announces, letting Susan go and rubbing his hands together. "Let"s see what you"ve been left."
"Cut," shouts the director, and the filming moves inside John and Susan"s modest semi, where what looks like a load of junk from a car-boot sale is spread around the lounge.
"So, this is what they"ve left you?" asks Dan, once the cameras are rolling.
"That"s right," replies John.
"Well, as you know, we have our antiques expert Digby on hand to tell us if any of these, er, heirlooms are actually worth anything."
At the mention of his name, an orange-skinned man wearing a pinstripe suit and a bow tie moves into shot. He shakes everyone"s hands, then casts a knowledgeable eye over the a.s.sembled objects.
"What do you reckon, Diggers?" says Dan, as John and Susan gaze on expectantly.
Digby picks up a Charles and Diana commemorative wedding mug and holds it reverentially up to the light, as if he"s just stumbled across the Holy Grail.
"Well, it"s too early to tell, but these, for example, are very collectible."
"Great," says Dan, turning back to the unhappy couple. "And what are you hoping to do with the money?"
John speaks up first. "We want to buy a new car."
"Or perhaps do up the house," says Susan.
John doesn"t miss a beat, and picks up a photo of his parents. As he gazes at it, the camera zooms in to catch the tears welling in his eye. "It"s what they would have wanted."
Dan turns back to camera. "Okay. But will it be a new Porsche or a new porch? We"ll let Digby get on and do his stuff. Join us after the break, and remember, where there"s a will..."
"There"s a way!" shout the a.s.sembled crew, somewhat unenthusiastically.
"Cut," shouts the director. "Take five, everyone."
Dan ambles over to where I"m standing, looking a little disgruntled.
"b.l.o.o.d.y amateurs," he says, shaking his head.
"Well, I liked your ad-lib," I say. "Very funny. New director, is it?"
"No, these people we work with every week. The "public". They sniff a few times in the right places but quick as you know it they"re ready to bin the sentiment, flog the family jewels, and spend the cash. I sometimes think the only thing they really want is to be on TV."
"Ah. Right." I decide not to point out to Dan the irony of what he"s just said. Apart from his constant pursuit of the opposite s.e.x, his whole life is dedicated to increasing his screen time.
"Anyway," he says. "What are you doing here? You haven"t got the sack as well?"
"I should be so lucky. No, Natasha"s given me the day off. Thought I"d try and sort out a few things. You know, work out where to start."
"Tell you what," says Dan. "Why not come round later, and I"ll give you a hand? Two heads, and all that."
"Sounds good. What time?"
Dan looks at his watch. "Well, I should be finished here about fveish, so lets say about six?"
"Six o"clock it is."
Dan glances back towards the make-up girl, who"s gazing adoringly in his direction.
"On second thought make that seven."
7.00 p.m.
I"ve spent the best part of the afternoon getting the flat back into some sort of a liveable state, which really just meant spreading the remainder of the furniture around a bit, buying some batteries for the portable stereo I find in the cupboard under the stairs, and hiring a TV and video combination from the shop at the end of the road and resting them on a stand that I made from the cardboard box Dan"s mirror came in.
By early evening I"m bored, and it"s a relief when seven o"clock comes. When I press the buzzer for Dan"s flat, and he answers the door wearing a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves, my first thought is that little miss make-up is still there.
"Dare I ask?" I say as he shows me in.
Dan looks at his Marigold-clad hands as if seeing them for the first time. "Oh, these? Cleaning the flat, would you believe."
Dan lives in what I guess is known as a loft development: a converted perfume factory that"s now all stripped floorboards, chrome fittings, and exposed brickwork. It"s very modern, very flashy, very trendy. Very Dan, in fact.
"Really?" I almost don"t want to know why.
"I was just about to defrost the refrigerator but," he nods towards the huge stainless-steel Smeg appliance in the corner, "a fridge too far, and all that."
"What happened to your cleaner?"
"Christina? Went the way of the others, I"m afraid."
"You didn"t...?"
Dan has a habit of employing stunningly attractive Eastern European cleaners, and then does his usual trick of trying to sleep with them. He feels so guilty about this afterwards that he invariably has to sack them.
Dan grins sheepishly. "Afraid so." He peels his rubber gloves off and dumps them in the pedal bin. "How are you doing?"
"I"ve been better."
But the truth is, I"ve been worse as well. I can"t quite rationalize it; I feel lonely, I feel hurt, I feel cheated, even. But I also feel motivated to do something about it.
When I tell Dan about my conversation with Natasha, he just laughs it off.
"Typical female response. It"s not all about marriage, you know."
"No, Dan, I don"t know. And that"s the problem."
Dan checks his watch. "Come on. You can buy me a drink and we can go through some strategies. Set out some guidelines."
"Such as?"
"Well, why don"t you start by trying to remember what it was Jane fancied about you in the first place?"
"What good would that do?"
"She was attracted to you once, right? Well why not try and remember what it was about you she liked, and then see if you can"t reproduce that?"
In the absence of any other ideas, this one seems as promising as any. "Should we take a pen and paper?"
Dan walks over to his couch and picks up an expensive-looking silver laptop.
"No need, mate. Modern technology."
7.10 p.m.
We"re in the Admiral Jim, sitting down at a table by the window. I"ve bought us both a drink and ordered something to eat-my usual, fully loaded "Admiral Burger", and a somewhat healthier chicken salad for Dan. As we wait for the food to arrive, Dan fires the laptop up and then sits there, fingers poised above the keyboard.
"Right. Here we go. Start, Programs, Excel..."
"Am I going to get a running commentary of every key you press?"
Dan ignores me. "File, new, save as "Edward Middleton. Spreadsheet". Or should that be "Middle-Age Spreadsheet". Get it?"
"Yes, Dan. Hilarious. Can we just get on with it, please?"
"Suit yourself. Okay-cast your mind back. What was it Jane said first attracted her to you?"
"Er..."
"Come on, Edward. Don"t be embarra.s.sed. What was it?"
"She always used to say that I was a good listener."
"Er...Okay. That"s something, I suppose. But what else? I"m thinking physical characteristics, rather than rubbish like that."
"She said I had lovely eyes."
"Well, that"s a good start. You"ve still got them, although they"re a little bloodshot, and hidden behind those awful NHS reject pieces of plastic that you call gla.s.ses."
"b.u.g.g.e.r off. They"re designer. Or they were when I bought them."
Dan rolls his eyes. "Mate. They, unlike you, have dated since then. What else?"
I think back to when Jane and I started going out, which seems like a long time ago, especially now. "My smile. Jane always said I had a lovely smile."
Dan peers at me closely. "Let"s have a look, then."
"What do you mean?"
"Smile at me. Give us a grin."
"This is ridiculous."
"Edward, we"re trying to conduct an objective a.s.sessment here. Come on-give it your best shot."
I glance around the pub to check no one is looking in our direction. When I beam at Dan, he makes a face.
"Blimey, mate. What have you been trying to chew through? Apart from a lifetime of coffee and cigarettes."
I can feel myself blushing. "What do you mean?"
"Well, look at these," says Dan, flashing me his perfect TV grin. "What do you see?"
"I can"t see much. I"m too dazzled. They"re like piano keys."
"Exactly. Whereas yours are more like the sharps and the flats. Have you never heard the word "dentist"?"
"b.l.o.o.d.y cheek. Of course I have."