Take Two (A psychological thriller)

‘Not unless they were using a magnifying glass, darling,’ said Carolyn Castle, the actress playing the part of Diana. She kept the gun pointed down at the floor until Danny Brett, the former soldier who worked as the production company’s armorer, took it from her, made it safe and placed it in a steel case.

‘Bi-atch,’ snarled the man. He was Sebastian Lawton, her husband on the show but, in real life, as camp a homosexual as you’d meet in Soho on a Saturday night. He was in his sixties but had paid for enough surgery, Botox and hair transplant work that he could pass for fifty and was a good enough actor to come across as the ultimate ladies man.

‘Diana, you can pop back to make-up,’ the director said. ‘We’ll do close-ups on Seb and Andrea, so you’ve got time to get your hair fixed.’

Carolyn turned around and fixed him with her steely green eyes. ‘Darling, one, my name is Carolyn and two, what exactly is wrong with my hair?’

Jake Harrington jumped out of his director’s chair and hurried over to her, arms outstretched. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ he said, hugging her. ‘It’s just you are always Diana to me. I’ve watched Rags To Riches from the very first episode.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘If it makes you feel better, we’ll get Danny back and you can shoot me here and now.’ He released his grip on her. ‘I’m sorry. Really.’

Carolyn stroked his chin.  ‘Darling, half the fans who ask for my autograph get upset if I sign as Carolyn,’ she laughed. ‘They want Diana’s signature, not mine. A lot of them have never heard of Carolyn Castle. To them I’m Diana Bourne, end of story.’

‘But I’m your director, and if I ever confuse you with your character again you have my permission to knee me in the crotch, at the very least.’

Carolyn smiled sweetly. She knew he was only over-reacting to make her feel good but she appreciated that he’d made the effort. ‘And the hair problem?’

Harrington made a flicking gesture with his hand. ‘It’s more of a lighting problem,’ he said.  ‘We’re shooting you with quite a bright light behind you and its shining right through your hair so we’re seeing a bit of scalp.’

‘A bit of what?’ said Carolyn, horrified.

‘The outline of your scalp, darling, it’s nothing to worry about, Tracey will take care of it.’

‘What are you saying, Jake? Are you saying I’m going bald?’

Harrington laughed but Carolyn saw the nervousness in his eyes. ‘Your hair is lovely,’ he said. ‘You’re lovely. Now get yourself over to make-up so I can get started on Seb’s close-up.’

CHAPTER 2

Carolyn settled into the chair and stared at her reflection in the mirror in front of her. She turned her head slowly to the left and then to the right. ‘Tracey, is my hair thinning?’

‘Of course not,’ said Tracey, who was rooting around in the blue plastic fishing tackle box that she used to hold her brushes.

‘Don’t bullshit me, Tracey, I need an honest opinion.’

Tracey straightened up and ran her hands through Carolyn’s hair. Tracey was in her early twenties, with long natural blonde hair and a tight figure that came from genetics rather than time spent in the gym. ‘It’s fine,’ she said.

‘The truth, darling,’ said Carolyn.

‘It’s fine. Fine as in thin. You don’t have thick hair, Carolyn, you never have.’

‘Is it finer than it was?’

Tracey exhaled through pursed lips. ‘Maybe.’

Carolyn cursed under her breath.

Tracey put her hands on Carolyn’s shoulders. ‘You’ve got great hair,’ she said.

‘Don’t say for my age,’ said Carolyn.

‘For any age. But yes, it’s fine. And Jake said the light was shining through it, which never looks good. But it’s easy enough to put a bit of thickening through it.’ She took a step back and looked at her reflection. ‘You might want to start thinking about a wig.’

‘A wig? Are you serious?’

‘Half the actresses on EastEnders have wigs,’ said Tracey. ‘The older ones, anyway.’

‘Oh, thanks Tracey,’ said Carolyn.

‘I didn’t mean you were…’

‘Old?’ Carolyn sighed and leaned towards her reflection. She examined the crows feet at the corners of her eyes. ‘Do I need my eyes doing again, do you think?’

‘Your eyes are fine. Everything’s fine.’

‘Including my bloody hair?’

One of the runners popped his head around the door. ‘Miss Castle?’

Carolyn twisted around to look at him. He was a good-looking boy on his gap year, the son of one of the network producers. ‘Yes, Harry?’

‘Mr Harrington says he doesn’t need you for the rest of the day. They’re having camera problems.’

‘Thanks, sweetie. Can you dig up my driver for me?’

Harry flashed her a beaming smile and closed the door.