A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

I dismissed it in disgust, but not before dwelling for a few seconds on that six-pack…). It seemed to be a cross between Jane Austen and the Regency period, and King Arthur and his knights. In this scene there were soldiers on horseback, and they were wearing a weird mix of nineteenth-century dress and armour. That’s what they mean by a ‘fantasy period drama’, I thought. They bought a mixed job-lot of costumes off eBay and wanted to use them all…

We watched as a group of noblemen (including Tony, which made us both giggle) waited at the door of the house. Zack stood in front of them, his sword drawn, looking bored, as Sam Pritchard spoke to a group of actors on horseback a few metres away.

We took advantage of the momentary break in filming and moved closer to the action. I caught Tony’s eye and gave him a thumbs-up, but Zack saw me and thought I was looking at him, and he gave me a big cheesy grin and a wave. Daisy looked at me in amazement; her old mum was cooler than she’d thought. Tony, however, who had seen both my initial gesture and Zack’s response, was not quite as impressed, and actually looked quite put out. Oh my God, is Tony jealous? I thought. I wasn’t sure why that idea seemed surprising to me; after all, I had been just a teeny little bit jealous of Faith’s fawning all over Tony after he’d kicked her door down. Hadn’t I?

I was saved from these rather uncomfortable thoughts by the director striding decisively away from the horses and Lucy herding the two-legged actors into place. Daisy and I crept closer until we were right behind the camera.

The atmosphere had changed. It had gone from a group of slightly bored people standing around in daft costumes, tired of waiting, to the collective human equivalent of a coiled spring; everyone was suddenly alert and ready to go.

Lucy looked around. ‘Quiet on set!’ she called. I had a horrible premonition of my phone ringing and mucking up the shot, so I took it out and turned the ringer off, gesturing to Daisy to do the same. Lucy saw us and looked annoyed, but didn’t tell us to leave. ‘Roll sound!’

‘Speed!’ called a crew member in headphones, who I assumed was the sound guy. He nodded to another crew member holding a microphone on a long pole – the boom, I remembered hearing someone call it. The boom operator gave Lucy a thumbs-up.

‘Turnover!’ called Lucy.

‘Speed,’ said the camera operator. Ooh, this is exciting, I thought. The magic of the movies!

‘Mark it.’ Lucy nodded to a young girl holding a clapperboard. She stood in front of the camera.

‘Scene eight, take six, mark,’ she said, snapping the clapperboard shut and scuttling out of the way.

There was a pregnant pause, and then—

‘Action!’ called Sam. It was so cool it made me quiver a bit. Although I had absolutely no acting pretensions or desire to see myself on the big screen (unlike Tony and Debbie), I had, like so many others of my generation, grown up going to the pictures every week with my mates – no Netflix or streaming services for us. Seeing stuff on the big screen rather than the telly really did make it feel like there was some kind of magic at work, a magic that could transport you to faraway places, to past times or an imagined future, or into the life of a princess, or a gladiator, into a hero or a villain, or even a ghostbuster. The kind of magic that—

‘Cut!’ called Sam. What? Was it over already? The actors had barely moved! The director strode back over to the group on horseback, who had trotted forward a grand total of about three metres, waved his arms about a bit until they turned around and got back into position, and then headed back to his spot behind the camera operator. I could see that he was watching the action (such as it was) on a monitor, so he could see exactly what it would look like on screen.

Lucy went through the rigamarole with the sound, camera, and clapperboard girl one more time, we all held our breath again, and then—

‘Action!’

I made sure to pay attention this time, in case it was over in seconds again, but this time Sam was obviously happy as the actors on horseback made it all the way to the house before parting to reveal Jeremy on a white stallion. His perpetual air of blokey leather-jacket-and-jeans-ness had disappeared, to be replaced with an upright, regal bearing, and a cold, aloof expression. The riders halted and Zack stepped forward to greet him.

‘Your Maj—’

‘You!’ snarled Jeremy. He drew the sword from the scabbard at his side and held it out straight, the tip coming to rest millimetres from Zack’s throat. I couldn’t see Zack’s face from this angle – they would have to film the whole thing again, I realised, with the camera pointing towards Zack rather than the riders – but he didn’t flinch, just stood his ground.

‘You dare come to my house?’ demanded Jeremy. His voice was disdainful, imperious – the voice of a king, not Jezza the Liverpudlian scally who was only interested in women, football, and beer. ‘You, peasant!’ He addressed one of the extras, not taking his eyes off Zack for even a second. A scruffily attired, skinny boy stepped forwards, and I recognised him as being a trolley collector from the Co-op, which slightly spoilt the effect, but not for long because King Jeremy on horseback was mesmerising in his emotionless menace. ‘Prepare the stables. And tell my queen I am here.’

The peasant scuttled off and Jeremy remained staring coldly at Zack, the sword in his hand firmly pointed at his target and never wavering. Oh my God, chills! I thought.

‘Cut!’ said Sam, and immediately His Royal Highness disappeared and Jeremy the cheeky scouser came back to life. He lowered his sword