Funny Girl(16)

‘Then I want to go,’ said Sophie.

‘It’s a rotten script and you’re completely wrong for it. But if you really have nothing better to do, be my guest. Next week you’re mine.’

She took the script home and read it through three times. It was even worse than Brian had made it sound, but when she was back at home doing the washing-up, probably in a couple of months’ time, she’d be able to tell her father that she’d met the writers of The Awkward Squad. It would be the only memory of London worth keeping.

The auditions for Wedded Bliss? were in a church hall in Shepherd’s Bush, just around the corner from the BBC. There were four men in the room, and two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing when Sophie walked in.

If this had been any other audition, she would have turned straight round and walked out, but she couldn’t tell her father she’d met Tony Holmes, Bill Gardiner or Dennis Maxwell-Bishop until all three of them had looked her in the eye.

‘Charming,’ she said instead of leaving.

One of the two who had managed to keep a straight face looked pained. He was the oldest of the four, she guessed, although he probably wasn’t even thirty. He had spectacles and a beard, and he was smoking a pipe.

‘What on earth has got into you two idiots? I’m so sorry, Sophie.’

‘It’s not what you’re thinking,’ said one of the idiots.

‘What am I thinking?’ said Sophie.

‘Good point,’ said the other idiot. ‘What was she thinking, idiot?’

Both idiots had London accents, which made Sophie warm to them, despite the unpromising start. They couldn’t throw her out because she was common, at least.

‘She was thinking, Oh, they’re laughing at me because I look so wrong for the part. But it wasn’t that at all.’

‘What was it, then?’ said Sophie.

‘You look like someone we know.’

The fourth man, who was neither idiot nor pipe-smoker, looked at her properly for the first time. Up until that point he’d been smoking and doing the crossword in the newspaper.

‘She was probably too distracted to be wondering why you were all laughing,’ he said.

‘We weren’t all laughing, thank you very much,’ said the pipe-smoker.

Sophie had sorted out who was who, to her own satisfaction anyway. The crossword-puzzler was Clive Richardson, the pipe-smoker was Dennis the producer, the idiots were Tony and Bill, although she didn’t know which one was which.

‘Why was I distracted, then?’ said Sophie.

‘Because you were too busy worrying about how wrong you look for the part.’

‘You’re Clive, aren’t you?’ said Sophie.

‘How did you know that?’

‘I recognized your voice. Because of Captain Smythe.’

Captain Smythe from The Awkward Squad, the factory owner’s dim-witted, public-school-educated son, spoke in a ridiculous voice, like the Queen if she’d been born simple.

This time all three of the other men laughed, although Clive was clearly stung.

‘Have you actually read your own work?’ he said to the idiots. ‘ “Well spoken, petite, varsity-educated, the daughter of a vicar”.’

‘You don’t think I’m petite?’ said Sophie. ‘This duffel coat makes me look bigger than I actually am.’

She made her Lancashire accent broader, just to make sure she got the laugh. She did, from three of the four. Clive, on the other hand, looked as though he might never laugh again.

‘All this laughter,’ said Clive. ‘It’s ironic, really, considering the script we have in front of us.’

‘Here we go,’ said Tony or Bill.

‘Excuse me,’ said Sophie. ‘Which one are you? Bill or Tony?’

‘I’m Bill.’

He was the older-looking one of the two. He wasn’t necessarily older, but Tony had a young face, and his beard wasn’t as bushy.

‘Sorry,’ said Dennis, and he introduced everyone.

‘Clive thinks this is the worst comedy in the history of television,’ said Tony. ‘That’s why the laughter is ironic.’

‘And he’s right. We haven’t laughed much today,’ said Bill gloomily.

‘Well, I enjoyed it,’ said Sophie. ‘It must have been fun to write.’

The writers both snorted, at exactly the same time.