“Yes, I mentioned the possibility to Don when we had lunch. We’ve both been in touch with Didrik Holgersson about working in a new format, and your idea is a perfect fit.”
Didrik Holgersson? Hang on, had Elnaz misunderstood? This was Bente’s show, a show about wine. She had come up with the concept—were they really planning to bring in someone else?
“I mean, of course you’d be involved,” Elnaz added quickly, as if she’d read Bente’s mind. “But we need someone else too.”
Someone else too.
“It would be interesting to have a stronger history angle, and someone for you to team up with,” Elnaz went on.
“Didrik Holgersson,” Don clarified, as if Bente hadn’t already gotten it.
They had clearly worked through their vision for the show. Bente couldn’t help feeling blindsided, but then again, that was how things were in the television industry. She knew that perfectly well. Sometimes a show was based on an idea by someone who was credited only in that capacity. Bente had been naive to think she would just get her own show.
And Didrik Holgersson was famous. Really famous.
“You’re both around the same age, and he’s incredibly popular,” Elnaz said. “I think the two of you would be a great match, with his knowledge of history and your unique vision for the story.”
Bente tugged at her sweater. She had gone for a wool turtleneck with dark-blue stripes, worn with black slacks—formal, but relaxedenough for the meeting. No one wore suits at the production company. However, the top part of the sweater was beginning to feel like a brace, making it impossible for her to move her head. She felt as if it was squeezing her throat, like she couldn’t breathe.
“So this is what I’m thinking.” Elnaz gazed up at the shiny brass-colored sphere of the ceiling lamp as she spoke. “A format where the two of you discuss and kind of educate each other about your specialties while researching the history of the wine bottle at the same time.” She glanced at Don, seeking his approval. “This would be something completely different for Didrik. He can still talk about history, but also ask questions and engage in a discussion. It’s a fresh concept for him—he’ll love it.”
“Exactly.” Don nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a cool concept, and Didrik is super-popular. He’s personable, people love him, he’s good on TV, and he’s a hot property right now. If we can get him on board, then TV24 is in.”
Elnaz looked delighted. “He works hard, and he’s so nice. Very professional.”
Had Bente landed in the middle of some kind of in-person fangirl forum for Didrik Holgersson? No one seemed remotely interested in her opinion on the matter. She didn’t doubt for a second that Didrik was hardworking and nice, and no doubt fantastic in every possible way. The many people who loved him couldn’t be wrong. However, this push meant that Don and Elnaz thought the show needed someone as popular as Didrik in order for it to happen. What were the implications of his involvement as it related to her role—both behind and in front of the camera? Would she be totally overshadowed? She had already been sidelined in their discussions about the concept, and about how the show could be shaped to suit Didrik Holgersson, TV24’s star.
“And he speaks French!” Elnaz’s eyes were sparkling.
“So do I,” Bente pointed out. “My idea was to do this on my own, with a strong wine angle. I think it would be really good,” she added, managing to get a word in edgewise at last.
“If TV24 is going to run with this, we need someone like Didrik,” Don insisted. “Someone the viewers like.”
At least he was honest. Bente wasn’t enough. They needed a star to carry the show, otherwise Bente would not be appearing on it.
“But naturally you’d be credited as the creator and a producer.” Appeasing words from Elnaz. “It’s your concept, after all.”
Bente nodded, keeping her expression pensive.
Elnaz leaned forward. “And you will be in front of the camera, too, along with Didrik—it will be yourjointshow.”
Bente forced a smile. What could she say? Besides, wasn’t it amazing that they wanted a star like Didrik on her program? The fact that they wanted to buy it was incredible, but she still felt stupid and naive. What had she imagined? That her own contribution would be sufficient? She was a has-been, a nobody. Of course they needed someone that the public loved. She had to face facts—she wasn’t going to pull in the viewers.
“We’ll send you a contract in a few days, and you send us everything you’ve got. Then we’ll get some of our researchers on the case to confirm whether we’ve got a real story. So we know if we’ve actually got a show.”
Elnaz’s tone was jocular, but Bente knew she was deadly serious.
No story?
No show.
8
1944
Mathieu gazed at his father as he walked into the kitchen. The sunbeams followed him in from outside like glowing shadows. The rows of vines beyond him swayed beneath the burning sun.
“Looks pretty good.” His father wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Parts of the vineyard had been turned over to growing vegetables, something to eat. “But the cabbage isn’t going to come to anything.” Unfortunately, the stony ground of the Médoc wasn’t suitable as a growing medium for anything but vines.
