Second Chance - Jane Green [123]
But she learnt that in Los Angeles nothing and no one is quite what they seem. She learnt that she would be called back to audition again and again, promised a part, told she was the perfect fit, that they had wanted her and only her, were thrilled she would be in the movie, only to open Variety a few days later and find Drew Barrymore had the part. No one ever bothered to tell her; they had clearly been lying through their teeth, which came as naturally to them as waking up in the morning.
She learnt never to get excited about a movie until the contracts arrived at her agent’s office and were signed. She learnt not to trust anyone, not the actress friends she thought she had, who would have dropped her friendship in a second for a part, and not the good-looking producers and directors, who subtly – oh so subtly – offered to make her huge if she would just do something for them.
She tells them that integrity is something she has found to be in short supply and that when she went to that first AA meeting, it wasn’t just that it stopped her from drinking, saved her life, it was that for the first time in LA she found real people. People who may have been in the same business as she was, but were living honestly, had the humility to know they were no better nor worse than anyone else they met, were able to say what they meant and to do so lovingly and kindly.
Not everyone, she says. AA meetings are filled with wannabe actors and actresses who have heard that this is the place to get work, the place to make contacts, to see and be seen. But you quickly learn who is real and who is not; and the wannabes, the fake alcoholics, are quietly left alone by the members who need this programme.
She tells them about Pearce. About how honest he is in the meetings and how brave she thinks he is when everyone knows him, anyone could go to the press.
‘But it’s Alcoholics Anonymous,’ Anna says. ‘Who would go to the press?’
‘It happens,’ Saffron says. ‘There are breaches all the time.’
She tells them that one of the traditions is not to gossip, and yet she has lost count of the times she has overheard members gossiping about others, even gossiping about Pearce.
She tells them that he is a kind man, that he genuinely thinks of others, treats others as he himself wants to be treated. The money he makes – the millions from his movies – he describes as a blessing. He gives a huge proportion away each year to charities he supports, but quietly, often anonymously.
She describes him as funny. Gentle. Sweet. She says he is the wisest man she has ever known, with a sensitivity and perceptiveness that is almost female, and yet he is also the most male man she has ever known.
She says that, above all else, she considers him her best friend. That whatever he is doing or wherever he may be in the world, he has always been there for her when she needs him.
And finally there is his marriage. A business arrangement, Saffron explains. He has too much to lose if he leaves. They have been waiting for the right time.
‘Wouldn’t now be the right time?’ Paul ventures.
‘One would think so, right?’ Saffron snorts to hide her fear. Because, of course, that is exactly what she thinks and has always thought, what a secret part of her has often fantasized about: if their relationship were to come out in the press, what reason could there possibly be for him to stay?
‘Who wants to play Monopoly?’ Anna pulls Daisy’s hat off as they all stomp inside after their nature walk, Oliver swinging a plastic bag half full with feathers, stones and pebbles they found down by the creek.
‘So much for you helping me,’ Paul says, coming into the kitchen and smiling as he watches Anna crouch down to help Daisy off with her coat. So lovely to see her with children, so clear that she is one of those women whose maternal instinct is just so entirely natural. What a horrible irony it is that she is not able to have her own children.
Paul doesn