It Only Happens in the Movies, Page 8

  “I didn’t know zombies could get PMS.”

  I can’t really remember what I did but suddenly there was a pause, then clapping. Loud echoing clapping that bounced off into the night.

  “That. Was. Amazing.” Harry put his camera down so he could clap harder.

  Rob sat up, grinning. “Where did that even come from, Audrey?”

  I smiled back, pulling my veil up. “Where did you come from? After you’ve eaten my brains you can suck my fat one?”

  He shrugged. “I’m good at improv… Hey, can you untie me?”

  Harry and I both dived down to help him, our hands brushing as we went for the same knot. “Sorry,” we both said. I pulled my hand away and went red. I always feel self-conscious after a scene, after I’ve lost myself that way. I tried to remember what I’d just done, or said, but it felt like a blur. Harry undid the knots and Rob got up, laughing, and I laughed too – high on knowing I’d done a really good take.

  “Audrey, how are you so talented?” Harry looked at me in wonder.

  Tad lowered the lamp, his eyes all bloodshot. He giggled softly to himself. “I don’t even know what happened there, but it looked cool.”

  “I love this new angle.” Harry kept running his hands through his hair. “I was already excited about this movie, and now I’m really excited. Thank you, Audrey.”

  I felt myself get red again but then…

  “I don’t think it works,” Rosie stated, her voice dry and unimpressed, cutting through the darkness.

  Harry spun to face her. “What do you mean, it doesn’t work? That entire scene was inspired.”

  She stepped in front of Tad’s light, so it lit her from behind, like a Bond girl in the opening credits.

  “Audrey just pissed over the entire rules of being a zombie. I.e. they don’t have self-restraint! They can’t decide when and where to eat someone’s brain. They’re not human, they just look human, that’s the point, that’s why they’re scary.” She sighed into the night, like she genuinely, proper cared, which I guess she did. “Zombies represent a deep dark fear inside us all,” she explained. “A fear of just being a shell, of having everything that’s good, everything that makes us us, ripped out.” I widened my eyes, blown away by her knowledge and understanding of it all. It almost made me like her, until she crossed her arms and said, “So I don’t think you can, like, break the laws of zombies just because you’re trying to pull a girl with some batshit idea.”

  Awkward silence descended and Rosie didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact, she just reached into her back pocket and withdrew a stick of gum, folding it into her mouth.

  Harry coughed and grinned. “I don’t need to pretend to like Audrey’s ideas to try and pull her,” he said lightly, though he’d narrowed his eyes. “I’m capable of pulling Audrey without ruining the zombie film I’ve spent the past six months writing.”

  “Umm, well, you’re not capable of pulling me.” I put my hand up to talk, like I was in class. “I’m sworn off men at the moment.”

  The others laughed, the atmosphere diluting a bit.

  Jay moaned, “Hey, aren’t we finished now? Can we just hotbox the car already?”

  I had no idea what hotboxing was, but luckily for me, Rosie explained in a primary school teacher voice. I ended up standing outside in the dark again so I didn’t get high off the fumes. I leaned against the bonnet as the car filled with flowery fug. Harry didn’t hold back now filming was finished. He lit a joint and took several deep drags before finally passing it around. That was all I really saw before the fog of smoke eclipsed my vision. The tiredness hit me then. I was in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of druggies I didn’t even know, wearing a wedding dress.

  I’d never seen anyone do drugs before. The closest anyone in Drama Club got to living hedonistically was doing improv. I found it mildly disgusting and then worried that made me uncool.

  Just as I got bored, the back window rolled down a little, letting a cloud of smoke rise out of the car. Harry’s large mouth gaped at the window, his teeth looking even teethier than normal. “You sure you don’t want some?” he called over the music, giggling echoing behind him. Like maybe they’d built up to asking me, laughing at my uncoolness as I sat outside by myself.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I called back.

  Rosie’s face emerged through the smoke, her delicate nose pressing against the glass. “She’s an innocent girl, aren’t you?” she said between giggles.

  I shook my head at them. Suddenly tired and pissed off, and really, really not in the mood for a girl I’d hardly met before making me feel like this. Like I was sad, like I was naïve. I’d done a good enough job making myself feel like that since Milo swapped me for Courtney. “I don’t do drugs, that’s all.”

  “Oh, so you’re too good to do drugs?” she asked, her already-narrow eyes like slits. “Not a bad girl, then?”

  I shook my head. “Forget it.” Thinking of all the ways you can be bad. Like leaving your loving family to start a new one and not wondering what that meant for the family you left behind. Like sleeping with a girl and then shrugging her off, like she was an ill-fitting coat. Like falling apart when you’re supposed to be the grown-up one. Like going away, knowing you’re leaving a big mess behind and then getting annoyed by the desperate phone calls of the people you left…

  Dougie. Phone.

  I dug for it in my bag. I’d asked him to call Mum. How was she? How could I have forgotten?!

  I had one message from eight hours ago.

  Dougie: Just called Mum. She’s bad, Audrey. Really bad. She said you left her all day? You need to look after her better.

  I felt instantly sick. With anger. With guilt. With him always guilt-tripping me. Suddenly nothing mattered apart from getting back. Was she okay? What did he mean by really bad? His understanding of her good patches and bad patches was not as complex as mine.

  I tapped on the window, next to Harry’s face.

  “I need to go home.”

  “Someone’s wigging OU-UT!” He started laughing. “Only NOW you’re scared of the woods?”

  I pulled open the door so he almost fell on top of me. A thick cloud of smoke hit the back of my lungs, making me cough.

  “Please? Can we go now? I have to get home.”

  “Relax, Audrey. We’ll go in a minute,” Rosie said.

  “No. I need to go now. It’s my mum…”

  Even through his red eyes and clouded brain, something in the way I said the word “mum” must’ve got through to Harry. He stopped grinning and turned to Tad. “Let’s go, man.”

  Tad was using the steering wheel as a pillow. “Man, I’m too stoned to drive right now.”

  I felt panicked, sick. Why was I here? How had I got myself here? In the woods, miles away from Mum when she needed me? Why had I been so selfish?

  “I’ll walk,” I said, knowing it was useless, that it would take for ever, but it was better than nothing. So I turned and walked into the darkness. My lungs still hurt from the smoke.

  She wouldn’t hurt herself, would she? There was only that time… That one time. She threatened to. But she hadn’t done anything. And Dougie didn’t know about that night. She’d made me promise not to tell.

  “Audrey, wait!” Harry ran after me. “I’ll drive us. It’s fine.”

  I spun on my heel. “You’re wasted!” The disgust was all over my voice, bleeding all over my face.

  “I’m FINE. I’m a good driver.”

  “But you’re…you’re…under the influence.” At that, I lost him. He burst into giggles again. “You sound like a grandma.” He bent over, propping himself up on his knees. “Under the influence…” And he was gone again. I reached out and took his hand to stop him, aware of how warm it was compared to mine.

  “Please, Harry. I really need to get home.”

  When a dangerously-out-of-it Harry dropped me off, I’d rushed straight upstairs to find Mum happily asleep in bed, snoring quietly. But I was so shaken, so f
reaked out by what could’ve happened, that I took for ever to drop off and I was in a whole new realm of tired the next day.

  Mum woke me at ten.

  “Audrey, wake up. I’ve made us pancakes,” she called through the floorboards.

  I stumbled down the stairs, my feet aching from standing up all the previous day. I stopped in the kitchen doorway. It had been too dark to see last night, but it was spotless. Show Home spotless. I turned and looked back at the living room – also spotless. Like a house elf had been overnight.

  “Morning, sweetie.” Mum was at the Aga, a frying pan in hand, a giant bowl of batter wobbling on the counter. “I’ve put blueberries in and everything.”

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  The surfaces were so clean I could lick them. All the unopened mail and other clutter on the breakfast bar had vanished. There was even a vase of flowers. I perched on a stool and took a sip of my pre-poured glass of proper orange juice.

  “How was work? I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “It was long. And then I went out afterwards.” I paused, watching her cook, trying to figure her out. Dougie had said she was bad, and, on the surface, she looked more than okay right now. But Mum never made pancakes, and never kept the house this tidy. We’d never, ever, had blueberries. “Milo turned up, with his new girlfriend,” I tested, seeing what her reaction would be.

  She flipped the pancake over, the raw side sizzling as it hit the pan. “Great, just great. I mean, I didn’t even know you could get blueberries in autumn. But they were on offer and everything.”

  That’s when I knew to worry.

  “Mum?”

  “Yes?”

  “I said Milo turned up at work yesterday.”

  She half-turned around. “He did? Well, I guess that’s just like him, isn’t it?” She turned back to her pancake while I blinked back tears that had appeared straight out of nowhere. She’d actually been doing okayish the last couple of months or so. I’d thought she might finally be getting over it – after two years in the sanity wilderness – but this house thing had undone everything…

  The manicness continued. I ate four blueberry pancakes out of fear of what would happen if I turned one down. She kept up a steady stream of inane conversation, hardly eating. “Sandra told me the blueberries were on offer, so I went to check it out…we don’t normally have pancakes, do we? … It’s so great you’re enjoying your job… What’s Walking with Sausage Dogs like then? …I finally got that stain off the carpet.”

  She was bad. Dougie was right. She was wound right up which meant she would unravel fast – flinging mess all around her when the energy ran out, like a Catherine wheel. I shouldn’t have left her yesterday. But then yesterday I’d felt free and I’d made jokes and I’d felt like…me again.

  “Well, they’re amazing pancakes, thanks, Mum.”

  She beamed at me and sipped at her third cup of coffee since I’d sat down.

  “Nice to have a treat at the weekend, isn’t it?” Another sip. And then, “Are you still seeing your dad today?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yes, I guess. I was going to go yesterday, but then I had to do the double shift.”

  Mum tipped coffee down her throat rather than sipping it. “And you’ll talk to him?”

  “I’ll try. You know what he’s like.”

  “I thought I did.” She smashed her cup down so hard it shattered, pieces of it bouncing off the table. I jumped as she pushed her chair back abruptly, its legs screeching. “OH, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE,” she yelled to the ceiling, to me, to nobody, to the world.

  I went to get the dustpan out.

  “Just leave it.”

  “Okay.” I stood frozen, too nervous to move.

  “Just…well…” She seemed to regain control of herself. “Just, well, try to talk to him, Audrey.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Dad’s new wife, Jessie, picked up the phone on the third ring.

  “Audrey, hi.” There was a distinct amount of screaming down the line. “Hang on… No, Albert, I said, NO. Put it down. PUT IT DOWN. Paul? PAUL? Can you come take Albert?” A clatter and Dad’s voice in the background, and more crying, and then quiet. “Sorry about that. Is everything okay? Why are you calling?”

  “I was hoping I could pop round today? There’s something I need to talk to Dad about.”

  A long pause. “Today?”

  “Yes. Maybe if I can speak to Dad?”

  “Today’s not great, Audrey.” Jessie sighed. “Albert, what is it? WHAT IS IT? Paul? Paul? Can you get him his snuggle?”

  “I don’t care, he’s my fucking dad,” I said.

  …I didn’t say that.

  I said, “I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, well, we’re having a roast at two, so if you come at one and stay for an hour?”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that she didn’t invite me to the roast, but it did. It hurt too.

  “I’m really full from breakfast so I couldn’t eat anyway,” I replied. “Mum made pancakes,” I added.

  But I was only met with crashing down the line and, “Lola? Lola? No. No. Give Albert back his snuggle, give it back NOW.” More crying and yelling and clattering. “Yes, Audrey. See you later.” She hung up before I even had a chance to say goodbye.

  I sighed as the phone beeped. I tried not to hate Jessie, but she made it so easy. I mean, if you’d plucked a husband away from his wife and children, yanked a family apart, chucked industrial bleach on two teenagers’ sense of stability…well…you’d think you’d TRY to make up for it. Wouldn’t you? An invite for a fucking roast should be the least of it. But not Jessie. It was like she’d declared war. Like Dougie and I were annoying blemishes on her otherwise-perfect life that she wished she could wipe away. Like we ruined the moment just by existing. Like we were a side-plot she wished she could rub out.

  Mum crashed into my room, like she’d been listening in. Which, let’s face it, she probably had.

  “And?”

  “I’m going over before lunch.”

  “Oh, thanks, Audrey. Thank you so much.”

  “I really don’t think it will help.”

  Screenplay for

  ALL THE THINGS I NEVER SAY

  TO MY FATHER

  Written by

  Audrey Winters

  FADE IN:

  EXT. AUDREY’S DAD’S HOUSE – DAY

 
  Audrey’s father, PAUL, who we find sitting in the

  living room, his head in his hands. AUDREY

  stands over him, looking fierce and confident>

  AUDREY

  How could you do this to us, Dad?

  How could you just leave?

  PAUL

  I don’t know. I’m sorry, Audrey.

 

  AUDREY

  Sorry isn’t good enough. How about not doing it in

  the first place? How about don’t cheat on your

  wife? How about don’t knock up another woman?

  Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me?

  Having to stop Mum practically killing herself?

  Having two siblings I hardly get to see? Having a

  stepmother who makes no effort to

  include me? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO

  OUR LIVES, DAD? DON’T YOU CARE?

  PAUL

  No. I obviously don’t. That’s why I fucking did it.

  I walked the twenty minutes over to Dad’s new house, messaging Leroy to give him updates on my zombie brideness.

  Audrey: I’m acting again. In a zombie film.

  Leroy: Great!! You going to audition for Guys and Dolls too?

  Audrey: No way in hell.

  Leroy: You should. HANG ON…ZOMBIE FILM?

  Audrey: Yeah, Harry from work is making one.

  Leroy: The bad Catholic?

  Audrey: He seems to be a good film-maker.

  Leroy: Be careful.

 
; Audrey: Leroy, I’m dead inside. When you’re dead inside you don’t have to worry about being careful.

  Leroy: I wish you’d stop referring to yourself as dead inside.

  Leroy: …Tho I guess at least you’ll make a good zombie;) x

  I didn’t feel dead inside as I rocked up Dad’s gravelly front path, dodging the pot plants and all the other manicured garden stuff that surrounded his small stone cottage. It hurt too much for that. I spotted the freshly-dug vegetable patch as I pressed the doorbell and scowled.

  Dad opened the door, beaming, cradling a topless Albert on his hip. “Audrey! Hey! Jessie told me you were coming. Come in, come in.”

  I couldn’t help it. Just the sight of Albert, his pudgy belly sticking out from above his nappy and the way he beamed at me… I melted a little, and held my hands out to take him.

  “You want a cuddle with Audrey?”

  Albert gurgled and made a break for me.

  “He’s missed his sister!” Dad stepped to one side so I could get into the tiny hall. “Audrey’s here!” he called, then he kissed me on the head and I closed my eyes, savouring it for a second.

  The cottage smelled of roast lamb, the scent shooting up my nostrils, smelling of Sundays and Home.

  “Where’s Lola?” I asked, leaning into Albert’s face, inhaling his lovely toddler scent. He nuzzled into me, melting off more pieces of my armour.

  “AUDEE!” Lola appeared, also topless and covered in what looked like Nutella. It was smeared all over her, like warpaint.

  “Yikes, what’s happened to you?” She toddled at me, colliding with my ankles and decorating my jeans.

  “Lola, we need to get you washed up!” Jessie appeared at the door of the kitchen, apron on, her face red from the stove. “Sorry, Audrey, she runs away whenever I try to clean her up. We’ve got to the point where we have to strip her when she eats, otherwise we’ll ruin all her clothes.”

  “It’s okay, these jeans need a wash anyway.” I bent down to squidge her cheeks. She squealed and laughed.

  “You want a cup of tea?” Jessie asked.

  “Please.”

  I carried Albert through to the living room and Lola tottered after us. The floor was cluttered with primary-coloured toys – cars and blocks and dinosaurs. I sat with them on the carpet and Dad and I didn’t really talk – just played with the kids, making car noises, building a tower of blocks that they smashed down and laughed manically at, wiping Lola’s belly off with a damp cloth. It was easy when it was like this. If I just slipped into their new life, like a star guest in a sitcom who only stays a few scenes. Jessie brought in my tea and I sat up on the sinking armchair that used to be in my house and sipped at it, watching Dad play with the twins.