Oona may look like your typical, sweet, old granny. But take away the grey wig and padding, and behind that Mrs-Doubtfire exterior, is a glamorous, go-getting sixty-something, who drives a Lamborghini, has a toy-boy husband, and is signed up to do the next series ofStrictly Come Dancing.
‘Just ignore the camera, dear,and if you fluff your lines, so what? You can do it again. If you survived weekly rep, then this’ll be a doddle, so it will.’
A make-up girl bustles in to re-do us and tuts as her eyes are drawn to a blob of ketchup on my cream blouse.
‘Okay, we’re ready for you,’ pants Jules, popping her head through the window of the trailer.
* * *
‘Emily, my darling, can you hear me?’ boomsRob through a megaphone at the bottom of the hill.
I give him the thumbs-up. ‘Good. Now, onaction! I want you to cycle like you’re a woman on a mission – you’re bursting to tell Elspeth that you’ve just seen the village floozy coming out of Tam MacLeod’s house. Stop outside number nineteen, which is where the washing line is, okay? You then deliver your first line over the hedge. Clear?’
‘Cool,’ I casually cry, as if I’m an old hand at this, stomach churning noisily, like a cement mixer.
‘Quiet, please! Cameras rolling … sound running … aaand …action!’
I swiftly pull my hat down so it’s secure, firmly grip the handlebars, take a deep breath, and I’m off.
‘CUT!’ roars Rob over the high-pitched squeal of brakes.
One of the crew runs over and hurriedly appliessome WD-40. He pushes the bike back up the hill, while I totter behind, aware of several sets of eyes upon me, impatiently waiting to start the scene again. I’m tempted to shout out,I’m not normally this slow at walking, but they didn’t have any shoes to fit me,but decide against it, as that would sound whingeing and pathetic. I tell myself to just get on with it, and mount the bike again.
‘Quiet, please! Cameras rolling … sound running … aaand … CUT! Plane overhead!’
I abort take-off in the nick of time, saving myself from another embarrassing uphill stagger.
We roll again, and as I rattle downhill, I rehearse my first line quickly in my head:
Morning, Elspeth. I was on my way from the kirk, when I saw Jeannie MacLeod coming… aargh! …I was on my way from the kirk,when I saw JeannieFrazercoming out of Tam MacLeod’s house…Morning, Elspeth… I apply the brakes, but slither past number nineteen, eventually coming to a halt outside number twenty-seven.
‘Cut!’
Someone pokes about the brakes with a spanner, as the technical crew prepare for another take. A make-up lady appears from nowhere and attacks me with a powder puff, tucks in some stray hair,and readjusts my hat.
‘Right, can we crack on, folks? I’d like to get this done before the rain comes!’ yells Rob, twitching with impatience as he glances up at the storm clouds gathering in the distance.
Huffing and puffing, I mount the bike again. Surely this time …
‘Quiet, please! Cameras rolling … sound running … aaand ACTION!’
Morning, Elspeth. I was on my way from the kirkwhen I saw Jeannie Frazer coming out of Tam MacLeod’s house. Morning, Elspeth. I was on my waaaaaay…
I’m applying the brakes, but nothing’s happening. I fly past a bewildered Elspeth and her line of washing, and am now freewheeling at dangerously high speed, heading for the huge light reflectors, lamps, crew, and extras at the end of the street. I swing my leg out and drag my foot along theground, in an attempt to slow myself down, but end up parting company with the bike, falling flat on my face, tweed skirt over my head, stocking tops showing.
‘CUTTT!’
I lift my grazed chin, just in time to see Rob smacking his forehead, throwing down his headphones, and storming off the set.
Concerned crew and make-up ladies swarm round.
‘I’m fine, really I am,’ I lie, forcingmyself to my feet, mortified by all the fuss, stockings and pride in shreds. My knees and chin are stinging like mad, and I’m on the brink of tears – more from embarrassment than pain. I am whisked away, cleaned up, and brought a cup of hot, sweet tea.
‘If you feel up to it, we’d like to try the scene again as the light’s starting to fade,’ says Jules with a sympathetic smile. ‘And don’t worry,we’ve tested the brakes and they’re fine now.’
Poised for take-off, I shut my eyes for a moment, then take a deep breath. My chin is on fire, and my feet are throbbing, but goddammit, I will not be beaten by a wonky, old bone-shaker …
As Rob looks through the lens, a hush descends over the smoking chimneys and plastic cobbles of Doon Place.
