It was such a bloody cliché – the actress getting exploited by men who swore they loved her for herself, not for the stardom or the money. Odette told herself that if it happened to Marilyn Monroe, it could happen to the best of them.
Calvin’s chin was on the ground. ‘Noooo. So, hang on, did you know that it wasn’t legal?’
‘Of course not. If I had, I wouldn’t have bothered with the prenup. He just keeps coming back, looking for ways to get a payday from the cash cow. That would be me.’
‘Well, the cash cow is about to have her way with a satay stick, so such matters will have to wait.’
Odette paused. ‘In case I don’t tell you this enough, I know I’m a handful…’
‘Caustic but true,’ Calvin retorted.
‘But I really appreciate every single thing you do for me. And I’m aware that this is our last day together too. I supposed I hadn’t really thought about that.’
‘Odette, you’re not dying. You’re just retiring. I’ll still be in the office if you need me, and I’ll still handle any enquiries we get for work for you.’
‘Urgh, the bloody optimism is almost as annoying as the relentless happiness. There should be a law against it.’ They both knew that there had been zero enquiries, zero offers, zero interest. She was done. Washed up. Over. But right now there was still one more part to play. If it was an Oscar category, it would be ‘Sacked Actress in a Graceful and Dignified Exit’. ‘Right, let’s go show those bastards what they’ll be missing.’
She touched up her own lippy in the mirror, using her trademark Dior Rouge scarlet lipstick. Agnes McGlinchy would have been outraged at the extravagance.
Calvin held the door open for her, and for the second time today, Odette pulled herself up to her full five foot two inches, shoulders back, chin out, and wafted on down the corridor. After her emotional response earlier, she was determined to show that she was a paragon of calm composure, class and elegance, even though inside, she was still screaming at the injustice of being pushed out to pasture. For forty years, she’d called the shots and enjoyed the acclaim. This was the first time in her professional career that she was being rejected. She didn’t need a therapist to tell her that she was going to have a visceral reaction to that. She just hadn’t expected it to be in public.
As soon as she walked into the canteen, the room erupted in applause and Odette began to work the crowd, steering clear of the buffet that had probably had sticky fingers all over it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the documentary camera following her every move, so she made sure she gave them her best side and never dropped her face. They weren’t getting any loose chins on this chick.
There were only two genuine goodbyes in the room. The first was to the team of women who ran the canteen. After hertenure as a school dinner lady, she’d always had an affinity with the women, some of whom had been there as long as her. The second was to Tress, who, as promised, slipped a piece of paper into her hand with her telephone number on it. The younger woman had been standing chatting to Rex Marino, but she took a step to the side to speak to Odette.
‘Please do keep in touch, Odette. I’ll miss you. And it would be lovely to have a proper chat when we’re not surrounded by all these ears,’ she joked.
Odette, not usually one for public displays of affection, gave her a hug, then cursed herself when the entanglement of arms somehow got caught in her hair and shifted her wig. She swiftly readjusted it and prayed the camera hadn’t caught it.
A quick glance to the side told her that Elliot was gesturing to the cameraman to pan the room, so hopefully she was in the clear.
The sound of a spoon clanging on a glass rang out and a hush fell as the show director, Carl Newman, stepped up onto a makeshift stage at the front of the room. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.’
Of course, everyone obliged. Carl was one of the new hires that the studio had made to shake the show up and bring in a new generation to its dwindling viewing figures, so, of course, everyone was concerned that they’d be next on the chopping block and therefore treated him like he was the second coming of Jesus.
Carl cleared his throat, and then held his hand out in Odette’s direction. ‘Odette, if I could ask you to join me on the stage, please?’
All she wanted to do was tell him to foxtrot right off, but she couldn’t drop the congeniality act, because she refused to look petty. Instead, she glided gracefully to the front of the room, and elegantly stepped up, ignoring the hand he was offering her forbalance, an internal monologue running in her mind.I’d rather fall flat on my face than take your hand, you two-faced little shit.
‘Odette, it really has been magnificent to have worked with you over the last few months…’
Right up until you fired me.
‘And I know that I speak for everyone in this room, when I say that your talent and your presence will be greatly missed by us all.’
You won’t give me a second thought from the minute I walk out of that door.
‘Hear, Hear!’ Rex Marino cheered loudly.
Her internal voice now lashed out at her co-star.And you should stop trying to attract attention to yourself, you flash arse. I see right through you.
Carl was speaking again. ‘So, on behalf of the cast, the crew and the studio, we wanted to honour you with this award…’ With that, he handed over a glass ornament, carved in the shape ofThe Clydesidelogo, with the words on the front…
Odette Devine,
a shining star onThe Clydesidefrom 1983–2023.
With love and thanks from all at the show, and your millions of fans.
