Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [55]
Heavens, so strong and brave, thought Bev, just like one of those Danielle Steel heroines you secretly longed to punch in the teeth. She gazed at Chloe, impressed.
Miranda, who had never read a Danielle Steel book and was altogether less gullible, said, `So how much of that was bullshit? Seventy-five, eighty per cent?'
`Pretty much,' Chloe admitted with a grin of relief. `Still, getting better. A fortnight ago it was ninety.'
Miranda spent the next hour washing and blow-drying her hair into a less spiky and altogether more grown-up style, and getting her make-up done.
`I'm sorry, we've come to the wrong house,' Danny Delancey apologised when she pulled open the front door.
`Oh, ha ha.' Why did he always have to make fun of her? `Bev did my face for me. It's okay, isn't it?'
`The face is fine.' Danny took a step back in order to admire Miranda's outfit, top to toe. `It's the rest of you that's taken me by surprise. I'm just trying to think who you remind me of.'
Somebody nice, I hope, thought Miranda.
`Got it!'
Some gorgeous, bright-eyed perky young actress, preferably. The kind everybody fancied.
`Margaret Thatcher,' Danny announced, pleased with himself. He turned to the man behind him. `Don't you think?'
`Minus about sixty years.' His companion stepped forward, holding his hand out for Miranda to shake. `Hi, anyway. Tony Vale. I'll be pointing the camera at you this afternoon.'
`This time I've definitely got it! She looks like a teenager going to a fancy-dress party as Margaret Thatcher.' Danny grinned at her. `Is that your going-for-an-interview suit?'
Miranda ran her hands protectively over the navy-blue knee-length gaberdine skirt. However had he guessed?
`Um…'
`Have to take it off, I'm afraid.'
She bit her lip.
`You mean, actually while you're filming?'
`That's entirely up to you.' Cheerfully Danny lugged a heavy tripod past her into the hall. `We wouldn't force you.'
`We're in here.' Miranda led the way through to Florence's living room. `I'm not sure about this nude stuff, though.' She sounded doubtful. `I mean, is it absolutely essential to the script?'
`Nude stuff! What the hell's going on here?' Bev leapt up, outraged.
`This is Bev,' said Miranda, as Florence and Chloe started to laugh. `Told you she was gullible.'
The filming, once Miranda had changed out of the terrifying navy suit and into her favourite cropped top and white jeans, took less than an hour. Danny's interviewing style was
informal, which helped a lot, and Tony Vale organised the lighting and camera positions and generally made himself as unobtrusive as possible in the unnaturally tidy bedroom. Before Miranda knew it, Danny was saying, `That's great, now let's shift this stuff downstairs,' and Tony was scurrying out through her bedroom door with the light reflectors tucked under one arm and the camera cases swinging from the other.
`Er… why?' said Miranda.
`Your landlady. Great character,' Tony called over his shoulder.
`Ten minutes, if that,' Danny explained. `She's just going to say a few nice things about you. Well, that's the general idea, but I suppose with Florence you never know.'
`She'd better say nice things.' Miranda held the door open so he could manoeuvre the tripod through. `Or I'll twist her arms off.'
`Florence, you're a natural,' said Danny when it was over. `A disgrace, you mean.' Miranda shot her an accusing look. `She was flirting with the camera.'
Florence's grey eyes sparkled. Thanks to the attentions of Bev, her make-up was immaculate and, for once, symmetrical.
`Why not? You never know who might be watching.' She spread her gnarled fingers, palms upturned. `Just think, there could be some lonely Texan billionaire out there, desperate to find someone to keep him company in his rich old age… then he switches on the TV one day and boom, one look at me and he's smitten-'
`I think that's being a bit greedy,' said Miranda. `You've already got Orlando.'
Danny looked interested.
`Who's Orlando?'
`Clear the table,' Chloe shouted, emerging from the kitchen with two massive plates