Chapter 40.

“Is that Anna Mayhew?” the woman asked on the other end of the phone. The cut-glass accent and timbre suggested a mature individual.

The phone had rung on Anna’s bedside table at the flat three times before she’d answered, the number unknown but the caller clearly persistent.

“Yes?” Anna replied, leaning up on her pillow. It was Monday morning but she was indulging in a lie-in. Her schedule was still quiet at the beginning of the year although, she reminded herself, they were already into February.

“This is Celia Hartingham.” The woman announced it with such confidence that Anna struggled for a moment, assuming she should know her. “Oh,” she said at last. “The agent?”

“That’s right.”

“Well,” Anna said, flummoxed. “Hello.”

Celia was a high-profile agent who represented a number of actors, but out of context Anna had struggled to place the name. She hadn’t the foggiest idea why she would be calling.

“I understand you don’t have representation at the moment,” Celia continued.

“That’s right?” Anna replied, wondering where the conversation was heading. “I stopped acting a few years ago.”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Globe was your last performance, I believe.”

“Yes.”

“Five years ago.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t renew your contract with your former agent?”

“No…I….” Anna frowned and rubbed her eyes, not quite fully awake. “Could I ask what this is about?”

“I wanted to offer my services, dear.”

“Oh,” Anna laughed. “I’m afraid I haven’t done any creative work in that time and I’m not looking to.”

“I know, but there’s a new role with your name on it.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “I’m no longer acting.” She said it by rote, but the disappointment still gripped and her spirits sank. “I’m not interested in auditioning,” she said quietly.

“No audition,” Celia batted back. “The producer has you specifically in mind. He would like to discuss the role.”

Anna was torn between curiosity and wanting to end the conversation, the offer a cruel reminder of what she missed. She chose the latter. “I’m sorry. Please pass on my gratitude but I’m unable to pursue the role.”

“He warned me that you might be reluctant, so he suggested a screen test to alleviate any concerns either way, yours and his.”

“Screen test? This isn’t for theatre?”

“No, television series.”

“Oh.” It was so out of the blue that Anna didn’t know what to think or feel. “I haven’t done any studio work in a long time.”

Celia persisted. “That is as may be, but he’s convinced of your suitability for the role after seeing you on stage recently.”

“Sorry?” Anna sat up in bed and drew up her knees. “I think you must have me confused with someone else.”

“I don’t think so. Matt Abramson was very clear.”

“Matt Abramson?”

“Yes, you have heard of the Atlassia phenomenon?”

Anna paused, her mouth open. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest at the same time her stomach dropped, making a hollow. “Yes, of course.”

“The producer wants to cast you in the new series they’re shooting at studios outside London.”

“A new series of Atlassia?”

“Yes.”

“Starring Jessica Lambert?”

“The very same.”

Then surely Jess knew about this. Matt wouldn’t have approached Anna without Jess's knowledge, would he? Did that mean, if indeed she did know, that she was amenable to working with Anna? How quickly her mind had gone there.

“Ms Mayhew…?”

“Sorry.” It was so unexpected that Anna genuinely had no idea how to react. “I’m flattered,” she said. Her body fluttered with nerves. “I…” She’d not even allowed herself to dream of performing again. “I’m not sure I could manage even a small role.”

Could she? Could she perform in front of people – a small group of trusted cast and crew in a studio not open to the public? Her heart rate rocketed at the thought.

“It’s best if you take up those concerns with Mr Abramson. He’s quite convinced of your suitability after what he saw. If you want to talk yourself out of a role, by all means take that up with him, but are you happy for me to represent you come what may?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” And Anna felt a bit silly.

“Are you available this afternoon?”

Oh god this was moving fast. “Yes. My schedule’s quiet this time of year.”

“Good. The studio will send a car for you at one o’clock.”

And Celia rang off.

What had just happened? What on earth did she think she was doing? Anna had dismissed the notion of acting so long ago that the offer had caught her unaware and she’d stumbled through the conversation chivvied along by Celia. She had the feeling that, should she need it, Celia’s representation would be effective.

So, acting? A series? It hadn’t been her first love, that would always be theatre, but she wondered if she could pull off a role on camera. Her confidence crashed as she imagined being the focus on set, even as a co-star, eyes all on her. She almost called Celia straight back to refuse the role.

Anna shivered but it wasn’t a chill. She was overwhelmed with nerves and excitement. The prospect made her nauseous. The chance to act again, that made her heart sing, but what if she was terrible? She was woefully out of practice and she shivered again.

And yet, she didn’t pick up the phone.

Was this to see Jess? Was that tempting her out of her comfort zone again? She was afraid to acknowledge it and didn’t want to examine her hurt feelings too closely. Besides, this offer said nothing about Jess's desires. She’d made no attempt to contact Anna, had made a step to avoid her in fact, and Anna suddenly regretted agreeing to the meeting.

But, with the time approaching one o’clock, she hadn’t cancelled.

“A small role,” she murmured to herself. “A bit part for old time’s sake.”

And a chance to see Jess. She’d said it loud and clear in her mind and she closed her eyes as if hiding from that admission.

She readied herself for an afternoon of, well, what exactly? A screen test? A meeting with Matt? She hadn’t even asked where the studios were and she slumped on the bed as her breathing threatened to accelerate into hyperventilation.

There was a driver, right to the door. She could always tell them to turn around and take her home. This was really stepping into the unknown and she felt unprepared.

She dressed comfortably – jeans, loose T-shirt and jumper – then unable to overcome her upbringing she chose her long woollen overcoat to make herself more presentable.

Telephone. She patted her pocket several times. That was her lifeline.

Glasses. Dark glasses. A comfort sometimes when she wanted to hide.

Bag. She shouldered it. That had everything else from paracetamol to Valium. She was sorely tempted by one now. God, she felt like she was going on an expedition.

She smiled at last.

Anna Mayhew, pushing middle age, a bag of nerves and anxiety, was going for a role.