A Winter’s Tale by Carrie Elks (1)

‘Kitty Shakespeare,’ he said, looking up at her, his lips curved into a smile. ‘That’s an unusual name. Where does it come from?’ Drake Montgomery was the executive assistant to the famous movie producer, Everett Klein. He had her resumé balanced on his lap like a napkin on a diner. His long legs were crossed in front of him, his elbows casually balanced on the armrests of his chair. On one side he was flanked by a beautiful woman he’d introduced as Lola, giving no clue as to her job title or reason for being there. On the other was Mr Klein’s other assistant, Sheryl. Older, with glasses that kept sliding down her nose, leading to a constant battle with her finger. She pushed them up, the glasses slid down. It was almost hypnotic to watch.

Taking a deep breath, Kitty looked around the room. Like all the others she’d been interviewed in, it was bland and impersonal. She’d long since given up hope that she’d be allowed into the producer’s office, where no doubt the walls were plastered with movie posters and photographs of actors, and the shelves stacked with constantly dusted awards. A mere intern – no, not even an intern, more a wannabe – didn’t merit entrance to the inner sanctum, and certainly not an introduction to the producer himself. Which in Everett Klein’s case seemed like more of a blessing than anything else. One of the top producers in Hollywood, he had a reputation that struck terror into everybody that came into contact with him. He was larger than life, with a temper to match.

And of course, everybody wanted to work for him. Having an internship at Klein Productions would be like getting a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. According to her supervisor at UCLA, even God stopped talking whenever Everett Klein opened his mouth.

With every second that passed, she could feel her heart rate increasing. She hated interviews. Hated talking about herself at all. Every time she opened her mouth she could feel her face heating up until she resembled a ripe strawberry. No wonder she hadn’t got an internship yet.

Drake lifted her resumé up to his eyes, frowning, as if it was the first time he’d read her details. Then he laid the paper back down on the table, folding his beautifully manicured hands on his lap. His eyes scanned her, taking her in. Was he staring at her bitten fingernails? She self-consciously shifted in her seat, trying to hide her hands beneath her as she kept the friendly smile on her lips. ‘Kitty’s the name my older sister gave me when I was born. She said I looked so cute all curled up in my cot, she thought I was a kitty cat. The name stuck.’ She glanced up at him to see if he believed her. It was only a partial lie, after all. The truth was much less heartwarming.

Though according to family lore it was Lucy, the eldest of her three sisters, who gave her the name, the rest was a fabrication. In reality their mother had walked back into the house from the hospital, carrying a newborn Kitty in her arms, and told Kitty’s sisters she had a present for them.

‘A baby?’ Lucy had said, her distaste obvious. She already had two sisters – why on earth would she need another? ‘I’d much rather have a KitKat.’

Yeah, Kitty wasn’t planning on sharing that one with the perfectly coiffed Drake Montgomery.

‘And you’re British?’ he asked, as if her clipped accent and place of birth on her resumé wasn’t enough to give it away.

She could feel the tell-tale beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. Why wouldn’t her foot stop tapping? She really needed to focus. ‘That’s right. I was born in London. I moved here last year for a postgraduate course in Film Studies.’ She could feel the self-consciousness washing over her again. She swallowed hard, though her mouth felt as dry as the desert. They were all so intense as they stared at her, she felt more like a specimen than an interviewee.

‘And before that you worked with children?’ He winced, showing his perfectly white teeth.

‘I was a nanny for a few years, yes.’ She nodded vigorously. Was she overcompensating? She was definitely on her way to hyperventilating. ‘After I graduated with my bachelor’s degree I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do next, so I took a job with an American couple living in London.’

Unlike most of her fellow students at UCLA, she hadn’t gone straight onto the course from her undergraduate studies. She hadn’t been able to afford to, for a start. It had taken two years of vigorous saving to pay for her year over here.

‘That must have been interesting.’ Sheryl, the other assistant, offered her the tiniest of smiles. ‘I imagine it’s a bit like looking after the acting talent.’

‘Except children have less tantrums,’ Lola joined in, her voice deadpan.

‘Well, yes.’ Drake cleared his throat, then hastily changed the subject, as though the possibility of children might be catching. ‘What made you decide to move over here to study?’

Kitty grabbed the glass of water that Sheryl had kindly placed on the table in front of her, lifting it up to moisten her lips. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to remember the words she’d rehearsed over and again in the mirror. How was it possible to explain the way that movies had saved her as a child? The way she’d immersed herself in the silver screen, found herself comforted by strangers pretending to be somebody else. The way she’d dreamed of having the kind of Hollywood family that only existed in fairy tales.

She swallowed down her mouthful of water, catching Drake’s expectant gaze as she replaced the glass on the table. ‘I’ve always wanted to make movies,’ she said quietly. ‘From the earliest age I was fascinated by films. Not just the stories, but how they’re made.’ She offered him the faintest of smiles. ‘I want to transport people to another world, take their worries away for an hour or two. I want to inspire them and entertain them, and make them leave the movie theatre wanting more.’

It had sounded so much better when she said it in front of the mirror. For a start, her voice hadn’t been wobbly. And she hadn’t been wriggling in a hard plastic chair, either.

Lola checked her phone, then whispered rapidly in Drake’s ear, her voice too low to make out her words. Drake’s eyes grew wide. ‘Tell them I’m busy,’ he whispered back. He pulled his own phone out and looked at it, swallowing hard when he read the screen. He flicked the button on the side that turned the volume on to mute. The girl shrugged, and tapped a message on her own phone without bothering to look up.

Kitty’s hands started to tremble in her lap. How many interviews like this had she been on? She’d already lost count. The rejection letters were piling up on her desk in the Melrose apartment she shared with three other girls, and they were just from those who bothered replying. But this one felt even worse – they seemed to have forgotten she was even here. The bead of sweat that had been clinging to her hairline finally started rolling down her overheated face.

A buzzing noise cut through the loaded silence of the room. Drake checked his phone screen again, wincing when he saw the caller. ‘Shit,’ he whispered, clearly not wanting to be heard. ‘Now she’s calling me.’

Clearing his throat, he looked up at Kitty. ‘I really need to take this,’ he said, sliding his thumb across the screen, and lifting the phone to his ear. ‘Drake Montgomery speaking.’ He paused as he listened to the person on the other end. ‘No, Mr Klein’s on set today, he can’t be disturbed. He left strict instructions not to forward any calls.’ Another pause as he winced again. Clearly whoever was on the other end of the line wasn’t happy with the brush-off. ‘I understand, Mrs Klein, I really do. That must be awful. But I still can’t patch you through.’

The shouting that resulted from his refusal echoed around the room. Drake pulled the receiver away from his ear, his face a picture of panic.

‘Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a nanny around here?’ the female voice screeched. ‘I need Everett to pull in some favours. You get him on the phone right now, before I lose it, Drake. This is a life and death situation here.’

Lola let out a little snigger, and Drake looked at her, his eyes wide. ‘Hold on, Mrs Klein, I’m just in a meeting. Let me take this call outside.’ He stood up, and covered the mouthpiece. Kitty didn’t dare meet his eye, she was too afraid she’d join in the giggles.

‘I’m so sorry, I have to go, I think we have enough to make a decision, though,’ Drake said, looking almost apologetic. ‘Sheryl will show you out. Thank you for your time.’ With that, he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving her staring open-mouthed at the two women left in the room.

A glance at her watch told her she’d been here for less than ten minutes. That had to be a new record. It was only a matter of time before the rejection letter arrived in her mailbox, and she added it to the stack she already had.

It was officially time to start panicking.

 

Even after living in Los Angeles for a year, she still hadn’t got used to the temperate climate. As she left the shiny office building that housed Klein Productions, Kitty stepped onto the pavement, feeling the sun warming her skin as she walked towards the parking garage. It was early December, but the temperatures were still in the mid-sixties, warm enough to walk about the town without a jacket. She couldn’t remember the last time it had rained. Over here, a bad day consisted of a couple of wispy clouds that occasionally obliterated the sun. No wonder everybody looked so healthy and tanned all the time. It was almost impossible not to.

In a desperate attempt to look festive, the shops and offices lining the street had decorated their windows, filling them with fake snow and tinsel, and trees that sparkled with hundreds of tiny lights. But even with the faux bonhomie it was almost impossible to feel Christmassy. For a moment she thought about London – of the wet streets, of the darkness that descended before four in the afternoon, of the roasted chestnut stands and the hot-chocolate sellers, all the sights and aromas that made the season feel right.

And none of them were here.

It was strange, really, that a city whose livelihood depended on selling the idea of the perfect American Christmas had to fake it for themselves.

Climbing into her small Fiat, she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. She slid her keys into the ignition, leaving them dangling there, before lifting her mobile and checked the caller.

Cesca. 

There was something about seeing her sister’s name that always made Kitty smile. As the youngest of four sisters, Kitty had always looked up to them, and even as adults she looked forward to speaking to them.

‘Hello?’

‘Kitty? How are things over there?’ Cesca’s voice was warm. ‘It’s pissing down here. I told Sam that next time he wants to film on location he needs to choose somewhere warm with a beach.’

‘I thought he was over all that lifeguard stuff.’ Sam Carlton – Cesca’s boyfriend – was an Italian-American actor, best known for his role in Summer Breeze – a movie franchise about a sexy teenage heart-throb. He’d met Cesca the previous summer, when they’d both been staying at a villa in Italy. She’d spent hours on the telephone telling her sisters how arrogant he was, and how much she disliked him, when they’d all known she was falling for him. The rest was Hollywood history. He’d declared his love for Cesca on a TV chat show then flown into London to sweep her off her feet.

One of the best parts of living over here in LA had been when Cesca and Sam were in town. Sadly, their visits to the city of stars were all too rare these days.

‘There’s only so much of the tortured, rain-soaked character movies I can take. Give me Sam in a pair of red shorts and nothing else any day.’

‘A million American girls would agree with you,’ Kitty said, smiling. ‘There was an outcry when he said he wouldn’t be starring in any more Summer Breeze movies.’

‘Yeah, well everybody’s replaceable, even Sam. And don’t tell him you said that thing about a million girls – his head is big enough already.’ Cesca’s voice lowered an octave. ‘And how are you? Have you had any news about your internship yet?’

‘I just left another interview,’ Kitty told her. She leaned her head back on her seat, her legs stretching out until her feet hit the pedals.

‘How did it go?’

‘About as good as the others,’ she said. ‘Which means terrible. I got all sweaty and panicky again, and said the stupidest things. I even made up an idiotic story about Lucy calling me a cat.’ It was time to face it, she was terrible at interviews. ‘Every time they asked me a question, I felt like an actor who’d forgotten his lines.’

‘Who was it with?’ Cesca’s tone was sympathetic. ‘Maybe Sam can have a word for you?’

‘It was for an internship with Everett Klein.’

‘Oh. Yeah, I don’t think Sam could say much to change that guy’s mind. I’ve heard on the grapevine he’s a bit of an arsehole.’

‘So have I,’ Kitty confessed. ‘But to be honest, I didn’t even meet him. It was his assistant who was supposed to interview me. But even he couldn’t concentrate on me, he was too busy talking to some screaming woman on his phone.’

Cesca sighed, her soft breaths echoing down the line. ‘Do you want me to talk to Sam about helping you with this? He must have connections, I bet he could help you find an internship in no time.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but no thank you.’ Kitty closed her eyes, blocking out the shaft of sun that had found its way through the gaps in the concrete wall. It wouldn’t feel right asking Sam for help. She didn’t want to be known as the girl who only found a job thanks to her sister’s boyfriend. ‘I want to do this by myself.’

‘There’s no shame in asking for help,’ Cesca said softly. ‘I should know, I thought I could do everything on my own, and I just ended up digging my own hole.’

Cesca’s problems were well known among the Shakespeare sisters. At the age of eighteen she’d written an amazing play, and won a contest to have it staged in the West End. What had followed was a spectacular fall from grace, leaving Cesca destitute and depressed, barely able to support herself.

Thank goodness she was on the mend now. During her time in Italy she hadn’t only managed to fall in love with Sam, but she’d also written a new play.

‘I’m not at rock bottom yet,’ Kitty said lightly, though sometimes it felt as though she might be teetering on the edge. ‘I’ll keep practising – who knows, maybe I’ll be able to get through one without breaking out in a sweat. But if things get worse, I’ll let you know, OK?’

‘OK.’ Cesca sounded reluctant to agree. ‘But seriously, think about the offer. Sometimes all you need is a little step up.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Kitty promised, knowing full well she wouldn’t.

‘And we’ll see you for Christmas in London, won’t we?’ Cesca asked. ‘Have you booked your tickets yet?’

Kitty rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking about her negative bank balance. She really needed to find some extra hours at the restaurant she’d been working at. ‘I haven’t made any concrete plans,’ she told her sister. ‘I’ll let you know when I do.’

There was a pause for a moment. Kitty could hear the pounding of the rain against the window wherever Cesca was. ‘You do that,’ Cesca finally said. ‘Because you know that Lucy will be grilling us all about our plans on Sunday.’

As the eldest of the four Shakespeare sisters, Lucy had played the maternal role in their family since their mother’s death when Kitty was only ten. She was the one who took care of them all, worried about them, and made sure they all video conferenced once a week.

‘I might be working on Sunday,’ Kitty said, trying to remember her rota that week.

‘You can run but you can’t hide,’ Cesca warned her. ‘If you don’t dial in, you know she’ll track you down.’

There were pros and cons to being the youngest of four sisters. Being constantly nagged was a definite con, even if their concern made her feel secretly warm inside.

After they ended their call, she started up the Fiat, driving in the direction of her small shared apartment in Melrose.

She needed to pause, regroup and work out how the hell she was going to find an internship. Her future depended on it, after all.

 

Her supervisor paused the video, turning in his black leather chair to look at her. ‘This is great, Kitty, really imaginative. I love what you did with the effects in the second half.’ He clicked on his mouse, dragging the cursor back across the screen to highlight what he meant. ‘What was your budget for this one again?’

Pretty much non-existent. Thank goodness for struggling actors desperate for any kind of exposure. ‘We did it on a shoestring,’ she told him. ‘Does it show?’

He shrugged. ‘A bit, I guess, but you’ve managed to achieve a lot out of very little. That’s a skill in itself.’ He scribbled something down on the printed assessment sheet in front of him. ‘I noticed a couple of errors at around ten minutes in, and near the end the boom was in shot a few times, but apart from that you’re doing great. If you do another run-through of edits, it should be ready to submit in January.’

She couldn’t hide the grin that threatened to split her face in two. This short movie was part of her final assessment, and if it was good enough it should smooth her path to graduation.

‘And how’s the search for an internship going?’ he asked her.

Kitty’s smile faltered a little bit. She tried to stabilise it, the muscles in her cheeks complaining at the effort. ‘I’ve had a few interviews, but nothing concrete yet.’

‘You’ll be fine. Even Kevin D’Ananzo has got a placement.’

That was supposed to be reassuring, Kitty guessed, but it was anything but. Even if he was bottom of the class, Kevin D’Ananzo’s interview skills were obviously better than hers. It wasn’t hard – a stuffed rabbit would probably have impressed Drake Montgomery more than she could.

Stuffing her laptop back into the leather case, she said goodbye to her supervisor and headed out across the campus and to the Young Research Library. The sun was high in the pale blue sky, the light casting shadows on the concrete pavements as the rays were halted by the leafy green trees. The campus was quiet – most undergrads had already returned home for their winter break, and her mind filled the silence with worries, about her lack of internship, her showreel, the two assignments that were due in before she left for Christmas.

She had almost reached the steps to the library – a grey, concrete building that always looked more like a parking garage than a place of learning – when her phone started to buzz. She crouched down, rifling through her heavy leather bag, eventually locating her cell on the third ring.

‘Hello?’

‘Is that Kitty Shakespeare?’ The female voice had a valley twang. For a moment Kitty held her breath, wondering if she was finally going to be offered an internship.

‘That’s me.’ Ten out of ten for originality, Kitty. She was really going to knock them dead.

‘My name’s Mia Klein. I hear you’re looking for a job.’

It felt a bit rude to say she had no idea who Mia Klein was. ‘Um, yeah, that’s right.’ She frowned, trying to work out who it was. She’d been to so many production companies they were all blurring into one. Mia Klein… hmm.

‘That’s wonderful. Can you start tomorrow?’

Kitty blinked in the bright sunlight. Tomorrow? ‘I don’t graduate until January,’ she pointed out. What was the best way to politely ask who Mia was and what company she was calling from? ‘I wasn’t looking for a placement until after that.’ She felt a little bit of excitement growing inside her. Had she finally managed to get an offer?

‘Can you work part time?’ Mia asked. ‘I really need you as soon as possible. It’s very important.’

‘I guess,’ Kitty said, still bent down on the concrete in front of the library. ‘Though I work part time in a restaurant, and it’s their busiest time of year. I’d need to work my notice.’

‘You’ll be fully compensated. If I give you an address can you come over tomorrow? Make sure you bring your ID and your references.’

‘Will a reference from my college supervisor work?’ Kitty asked. She didn’t think the restaurant manager would give her anything if she walked out at short notice.

‘I was hoping you’d be able to give me the details of your previous employers. The ones in London.’

Kitty frowned. ‘But I was a nanny over there.’

‘That’s right.’

‘They won’t really be able to say if I’d make a good intern or not,’ Kitty told her, still blinking away her confusion. ‘My supervisor here at film school will be much better placed to say that.’

Mia laughed, a tinkling waterfall of a chuckle that made Kitty feel about two foot tall. ‘Oh no, I’m not calling about an internship, I’m calling about a nanny position. I need somebody to look after Jonas, my son, over the holidays. His last nanny quit, and the new one can’t start until January.’

‘I’m sorry, did you say your name was Mia Klein?’ It was beginning to make sense.

‘Yes. My husband’s assistant passed me your resumé. Drake Montgomery. I believe you met him.’

‘Oh yes. I definitely met him.’ He’d made a big impression, after all. Especially when he abandoned the interview halfway through.

‘So can you make it tomorrow?’ Mia asked. ‘At about two.’

‘Um.’ Kitty looked up at the library, at the grey walls, the shiny windows, her crouched body reflected in the glass.

What was it her eldest sister always said? Never look a gift horse in the mouth. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure if this offer would turn out to be a gift or a poisoned chalice. It wasn’t an internship after all. Nowhere near. But it was an opportunity to prove herself, to get close to one of the top producers in the town.

She thought again of that pile of rejection letters, and of Kevin D’Ananzo, the student at the bottom of the class who’d still managed to achieve what she’d found so elusive.

‘Sure, I’ll be there,’ she finally said, standing and picking her bag up. ‘Just text me the address.’