I had some biscuits and another warm cup of tea as I mulled over the events of today. As far as the first shooting experience, it was fine. Oh, who was I kidding? It was terrible. I received no direction, no feedback. I had no idea if I was doing a terrible job or a decent one.
"Will, come here," Alex called out.
"We need to get another shot and you're done for the day."
"Okay," I said.
"Pam, can you get him to H&M?"
"Yeah."
Alex was off, and I was being led away to the makeup trailer. This time they put on scratch marks on my face.
"Like you've ran through a thorn bush. You look really good!" Lorraine said, trying to cheer me up.
"Mhm," I nodded.
"What's got you in a tissy?" Lorraine asked me, worried.
"It's nothing," I replied.
"Well, it's not nothing, or you wouldn't look like you've been beaten up."
"That's the makeup."
"Of course I know, I'm the one putting it on you." She sniggered, "But that's not what I'm talking about. You look sad, was someone being a tosser?"
"It doesn't matter. I mean, I just expect there to be more, you know?" I sighed, not sure what more to say.
"More what? You wanted there to be glitter and glimmer everywhere on set? I know it's your first time on set, Will. So I'll tell you this for free, you listen well." Lorraine said, puffing herself up.
"It's your first time, but it's just another day to everyone else. It's only April and this is my thirteenth basecamp I'm working out of. Director may not have done as much work, but the crew have been to almost as many places as I have. It's just work, it's not a fairy tale, set is not a magical place." Lorraine concluded.
"I see…" I avoided her gaze.
That made sense. Maybe I'd just been romanticising the whole industry too much. This was no Hogwarts nor the magical Britain. I was in plain old England, out in the sticks in a place called Dorney, place made you feel sorry. People here were irritated by the mosquitoes, bugs, and nettles. This TV show was just another job to them; they cared more about their family and putting food on the table. I was earning thirty-one pounds per day; my entire earnings from this project would dry up with the trips me and Mum would have to make just to go home or to London. I wasn't here for the money but for the experience. That was why I was pissed off. I wanted to be paid in experience, but it wasn't enough. No direction, no feedback. I was being paid the thirty-one-pound equivalent of experience per day. Was it wrong want an hourly rate?
Questions, questions.
"Hey, chin up, Will," Lorraine said with a ghost of a smile.
"There is magic in the scene when it's all done. And you'll feel the pride when you watch it on TV. Behind the scenes, it may not be all glamour, but out there it will be." Lorraine gestured, encompassing everything else.
I couldn't help but smile.
"You're so dramatic!" I laughed. "Out there, it'll be magical!" I said, imitating her voice then giggling.
"Hey, it's true," Lorraine protested. "I make everyone look great on TV, but I will never be on it" sighing, she continued, "I've tried, acting that is. It's not for everyone, but my work is still on the screen and it'll inspire people."
"Do you think Children of the New Forest will really inspire people?" I pressed, perplexed.
"Course it will, it was massive the last few times. It's a timeless story and relatable to children. Inspiring children is more important than inspiring the old and infirm. Remember that."
I considered the conversation odd as a revelation struck me. Taxi drivers are philosophers, it said. Well, it didn't really say that, but I found it to be the lesson. Taxi drivers, barbers—these were the people that you could talk to in a private space about life and your experiences. You may not tell your priest everything, because you see them every week. But the barber? You may not even like the cut, bin him off and never see him again. The taxi driver? Chances of seeing them again are slim to none. Makeup artists were the equivalent for the entertainment industry. Cooped up in a trailer together, stuck doing touchups, fixing up hair—you were bound to end up talking. Lorraine was able to see right through me and make me feel better while imparting on me a valuable knowledge.
"Thank you, Lorraine," I said.
"You'll thank me once I get all this makeup off you," Lorraine said, smiling.
Alex came by again. Lorraine hurriedly made a few touches with her brush—though I wasn't sure how much it would help. Pam wasn't there with me; instead, Mum stepped in alongside me. Alex led us to the back of the house, where a makeshift barn had been set up. Apparently, a farmer from Dorney proper had lent us his heifer and some chickens for the shoot.
"Alex, get him in the hay over there," Andrew commanded.
"What does he mean?" I asked. I didn't remember this scene in the script.
"Pauline changed the script just today. Dorney folks are nice, scene is more funnier this way," Alex explained.
"What do I do?"
"You'll hide under the hay while Emily and Joanna do their takes. We want your feet sticking out of the hay, you see."
Alex went on to explain what would happen in vivid detail, then asked me to get under the hay.
"You're not allergic, are you?" Alex said, frowning.
"I don't think so," I replied, glancing toward Mum.
She shook her head. I couldn't read her expression—she looked tense.
"Okay, get in. Emily's here."
So, I went inside the loose hay. Dried straw and leaves clung to me, itching each part of my body that it made contact with. I dived into it, trying to fully enclose myself. Alex seemed to lend a hand because there was someone piling things on top, but I was blind to it all.
"Where's your feet?" Alex asked, voice slightly muffled.
I wiggled it around until he grabbed it. I giggled from the accidental tickling.
"Okay, hold it there. When I call for it, you'll wiggle it, okay?"
"Yeah."
I tried to breathe, taking stock of my predicament. Surprisingly, it was easy.
Remember being forgotten? This time, I was actually hidden—things happened around me, and no one checked up on me. My mum notwithstanding, of course. Bless her.
"Cut, damn it. Peter, get her to do it better," Andrew screamed.
"Whoa, hey there. Don't cry," Peter said. I heard sniffles.
Emily—she had done eight takes so far. Before this I thought Andrew didn't like doing more than one take, but Edith's actor apparently had issues. All the child actors aside from me had at least three credits on TV or film, so I was shocked to learn Emily was having issues.
"Bloody hell, go get her sorted out," Andrew shouted. The crying girl left my hearing range.
"Okay, look," Andrew paused. "We'll film Joanna's back, zoom on the hay, and focus on Will's reveal. Cut back in with a camera change, does that work?"
People—by which I assumed Peter and Pauline—made agreeable noises.
When all was agreed and action was called, Joanna read out her line.
"Out of there, you! I warn you, I've got a poker and I'm quite prepared to use it!" Joanna said in her posh voice, not sounding quite so threatening.
"Okay, hold the poker like that," Peter the AD said.
"Will, wiggle your toes a bit," Alex said.
I felt a draft on my toes, so I wiggled it awkwardly before trying to make a motion to pull it back into the hay.
"Cut. Moving on."
"Get in place, Will, on three, two, one," Peter the AD counted.
I made the exaggerated movements that I was required to do to show the hay moving unnaturally, building up the mystery. Out came me, in the homeless costume now with straw and plant matter all over me. My eyes adjusted to the light; I looked up and down Alice, shying away from the poker in her hand.
"CUT!" Andrew shouted.
I was forgotten yet again as Andrew discussed with his assistants. Once they were finished, Alex came over to get me out.
"You're free to go. We'll finish Emily's scenes with just the hay; you don't have to suffer." Alex smiled kindly.
—
The pull of wanting to see what would happen with Emily was almost irresistible. However, there was a limit of hours I could work for. Also being on set when you didn't need to be probably broke some etiquette. I couldn't recall Andrew saying anything about that, but then I wasn't paying too much attention back then. Lorraine stripped the makeup off of me but promised that I would get back in it one final time for another scene.
So far I had no speaking parts; it would change the next time we filmed. I'd have to practice my Spanglish. Ms. Burton greeted me and taught me about topics I already studied a lifetime ago. Usually it was easy to get away with not paying attention to my classes, but it was impossible now with no other pupils around me.
"Ms. Burton, can we do languages?" I asked, bored out of my mind.
"Maybe when you're in secondary. Doesn't make sense now though."
"Ughh, but I'm already done with all the primary material."
"Well, that's not what the council said. When did you transition to secondary, Wilfred?" Ms. Burton said teasingly.
"I've competed in the UKMT Intermediate Challenge. Got a gold star, even did the Olympiad too," I informed her.
"You won't fool me that easily." Ms. Burton chortled.
"It's true. My Mum can confirm it, but my certificate is home," I said indignantly.
"That may be well and true, but we'll stick with the council-approved lessons for now," Ms. Burton said, her tone final.
I looked to the heavens in defeat, my mouth hung open. I'd have to only endure this for one week. Hopefully, the other scenes will be shot with the other children so I don't have to have a single tutor to myself. My face paled as I thought about the rehearsals in London. Would the two other Tommy Stubbins rehearse with me at the same time? Being the only child role was terrible, and logic seemed to dictate that the children couldn't practice together. Because Steven Pimlott and Leslie Bricusse would want as much practice as possible, you'd need the Tommys to be spread around. Damn it.
—
"So how was your experience today?" Mum asked.
"It was weird, Mum."
"How so?"
"No one talked to me, except you."
"Oh bach, probably because you were the only child actor today."
"Yeah, I guess. But I thought the director would tell me if I was doing anything wrong."
"I'll talk to him."
"You probably shouldn't. He made Emily cry today."
"I was there, silly," Mum said.
"I was under the hay, couldn't see, remember?" I said with a scoff.
"Okay, okay. Emily had some issues, but I don't think it's got anything to do with the director. Emma's been on the phone all day, I should get one as well. Seems convenient, that."
"What happened?"
"Nothing good, I think. We'll find out in time. Don't push them."
I nodded.
"Let's go home?"
Mum shook her head. "Hotel is no home, but yeah. Do you wanna go to Slough? Grab scran there?"
I shook my head almost violently. "No one ever wanted to go to Slough in history."
"What would you know about that?" Mum asked curiously.
"Everyone says it's a—" I caught myself. "They say it's a bad place," I finished awkwardly.
"Hmm, it's that Craig fellow, isn't it? I'll tell him to mind his language," Mum promised.
"Let's go to Windsor. I want to see the castle."
Mum shook her head to clear it. "Yeah, that's much better. Come on." She rested her hands on my shoulders, trying to guide me forward.
Putting my belongings back into my bag, it struck me that I didn't need to love work—I just needed to cherish my time with family.