Where Have All the Boys Gone?(67)

Both of them grunted at her. This discomfited Hortense, who was used to people being delighted to be on television.

“I said—HOW’RE YOU DOING!?” she repeated.

“We’re great,” said Harry.

“Great! Fantastic! We’re going to have a fantastic show then! Great! Now, let me introduce you—”

She stared at her clipboard, until there could be absolutely no doubt that she had no idea who she was introducing to whom. She indicated an elegantly dressed, very slender woman with an anxious expression and a large mane of put-up hair.

Harry leaped to his feet.

“. . . this is Fennellopy Crystal. She’s just written a book on crosstraining dogs and men.”

Harry stared at her. “You’re crossbreeding dogs and men?” he asked, in incredulous tones. “How does that work?”

“Crosstraining,” she said in an annoyingly patient voice, as if she’d been asked this question a lot before.

Katie snorted.

“You just have to teach them all the same. Talk to men sternly and reward them with praise.”

“To get them to do what? Eat your post?”

The woman laughed an annoying tinkly laugh. “It’s the latest way to get a man, you know.”

“By whistling at them in a very high pitch?”

“It’s sold four hundred thousand in paperback.”

“Yes,” said Hortense, nervously. “And this is Star Mackintosh.”

Star Mackintosh looked about twenty years old and was wearing odd ankle boots that zipped up the middle, pink fishnets, a pale pink leather bomber jacket tightly fitted over enormous boobs, and a tiny fringed denim skirt that only just covered her arse. There didn’t seem to be anything underneath the bomber jacket.

“Hello!” she said in broad Mancunian tones. “I’m the new girl in Coronation Street. I always just say what I do, otherwise it’s embarrassing for people to come up to me.”

Katie nodded. She’d stood up too, as standing around seemed to be what they were doing at the moment.

“That’s why I changed my name to Star. From Tina. It saves time with people having to ask me what I do, ha ha ha!”

“That’s great, well done,” said Katie.

Star leaned over conspiratorially. “You know, I’ve got nothing on under this bomber jacket.”

Katie nodded.

Star checked out Hortense, who was busy shouting into a walkie-talkie.

“So, I was thinking, the show’s live, innit?”

Katie was there ahead of her. “You’re going to get your norks out?”

Star smiled. “Well, it’ll get me the coverage, innit? And Judy’s like, already famous for it. I can’t believe nobody’s done it before.”

“Me too,” said Katie. “Considering it goes out at teatime in a family slot.”

Star shrugged. “I’ve tipped off the tabs, and they’re going to try and get one of the cameramen to do a close-up of Richard’s face.”

“That’s not very sporting.”

Star smiled again. “Gets me in the papers, dunnit!”

“You should do that too,” said Harry to Katie. “In case there’s anyone out there who hasn’t seen them.”

Katie glared at him. “Jealous?”

Harry sneered. “God no.”

“You can’t do the tit thing,” said Star, sounding agitated. “It was my agent’s . . . I mean, it was my idea first, but I’m the biggest star, so I’m on last. So you can’t do it first.” She took out her mobile and started texting furiously on it.

“Don’t worry Star,” said Katie, putting her hand on the girl’s shoulder, “I won’t. I’m afraid we’ve just ended up on a show with a horrible sexist pig.”

“I thought Richard was meant to be really nice!” said Star, as Katie wandered off to the catering table by herself, to get away from Harry and try to eat a sandwich without getting it covered in lipgloss.

“OK everyone,” said Hortense. “Richard and Judy will try and pop in to say ‘hello.’”

“Ooh,” said Star.

“Now just remember, be yourselves and have fun—we want to see your natural personalities come through. Although I trust you’ll remember this is a teatime show, it’s not Frank Skinner.”

Star let out a tiny giggle.

Katie sighed. If Harry could stop being a prick for five tiny seconds, she could concentrate on this—their biggest break so far—being a success, get the job done, get the attention levels up, scare the developers off, job done, go home, and forget the whole bloody thing. Plus, this was her first time on telly—her mum would be watching and everything. She didn’t want to mess it up. She wondered if Iain would be watching. Well, of course he would—the entire town would be out in force. She smiled ruefully. Well, at least her make-up was nice.

THE STUDIO WAS much smaller than Katie had imagined, although she’d been to these things before, on the sidelines, and she always thought that. It was hot, and there were cables everywhere—she heard Harry curse as he hit his foot as they were led along the dark passageways behind the cameramen.

In front of them now, Fennellopy Crystal was talking to Richard in her slow, modulated, somewhat infuriating voice.