we meet again.
A romantic comedy.
Normally Victoria Barlow would have passed on the opportunity. Romantic comedies tended to have a stigma within the industry for being - well - crap. Predictable, stupid, full of privilege and a whole load of horse shit. Even when her agent had told her to just ‘give it a chance’ she wanted to say no. Only in a dream world would it do wonders for her already vulnerable career - she was still relatively young in the industry, and one bad move could have ramifications that would last for years. She wasn’t yet at the stage where she could choose a bad film simply for the pay package. Oh no, as much as that would be favourable sometimes, Vicky had to plan for the future, not just the short term gains. However, when she’d read the script for Love Actually, she couldn’t say no. It was so very clever that she knew she had to do it. Her part was small, but painfully beautiful. A woman who’s in love with her co-worker, but can’t sacrifice it for the love she has for her mentally ill brother. Some of the names attached to the project were huge, meaning most of the cast was kept a secret, even from the other actors, until the first read through.
Which is where she was when she was reacquainted with the love of her life. Only she didn’t know he was the love of her life then - or she did - maybe they both knew but were too scared to admit it to themselves, or one another. Her fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the table she was sat at, making the water in her glass vibrate slightly, in little waves as if there were a tiny earthquake. She’d graduated from RADA six years ago - but some of the faces sat across from her made her feel a little sick with nerves. Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman were sharing a giggle over one of their scenes as they flicked through it before the read through began, and she was pretty sure she’d seen Colin Firth nip to the loo a few minutes before. It was certain. Vicky Barlow was going to have a coronary there and then.
“Sorry I’m late” someone said as they strode in. With her eyes glued firmly down at her lines which were now starting to squiggle a little bit in front of her (bloody nerves), she paid no attention to who they were.
‘How unprofessional’ Vicky couldn’t help but think as the latecomer made their way into the room and sat opposite her. Her eyes were cast down at her script, thankfully so, meaning that whoever it was couldn’t see the small eye roll she cast in their direction.
“Hang on, it’s not - you’re not - it can’t be - Vic?”
Her head shot up. She’d recognise that anywhere.
“Izzy?” She asked, her eyes wide in amazement and glee.
“Oh my god, Vicky!” he cried, springing up from his chair and darting around to her, bumping into Bill Nighy on his way. Vicky laughed at the commotion he was causing and clung on to him as he threw himself into her arms.
“Izzy! What are you doing here! Who are you playing!” The words came out in a jumble but he seemed to catch most, if not all of what she was saying.
“Karl! The sexy office worker” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Vicky to splutter out a laugh, both in shock and amusement.
“I’m playing Sarah!”
They both looked at each other, eyes boring right into the other’s depths - before bursting out laughing again.
“This means- ” Vicky began
“We’re going to have have to- ” Izzy said at the same time.
They both knew what the other was referring to - but somehow it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that after years of missing opportunities to meet up, and occasional phone calls, they were together again.
Even if it did mean they had to almost have fake sex.
