Sounds Like Radio Episode 08
Now that Miriam was more settled, and seemed more cheerful, Cesca could make a start. She was sure that the girl had potential.
“I noticed that you had to cancel a booking for a novel reading when you spotted that the actor lives in California?” she asked.
Miriam grimaced.
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“The actor we actually wanted lives in Coventry.
“She’s one of the most popular audiobook readers.
“It’s worth familiarising yourself, Miriam.”
“Oh, yeah, ’course,” Miriam said. “The name was really similar.
“You’d think actors would make sure they had a different name from other actors, wouldn’t you?”
“They do,” Cesca said. “They do exactly that.
“We wanted Charlotte Nairn and you tried to book Charlotte Norris.
“Miriam, you said at interview that audio is your passion.”
“Oh, yeah, ’course,” Miriam repeated, more quietly. “Can I get you some tea? I got some in.”
Cesca picked up the mug on the table.
“Gerry made me tea just now, thanks. Which stations do you listen to? Which drama podcasts do you like?”
There was an awkward grimace from Miriam.
“I like Wild FM in the morning.”
Wild FM, as far as Cesca could recall, played Grime music to about two hundred and fifty loyal listeners in the south-east Birmingham area.
It could safely be said to be niche.
“I was desperate for a job,” Miriam said.
Cesca could not bear to bring up the quill pen incident yet, but as her eyes strayed round the room she noticed another bit of “tidying” in the corner.
“Did you by any chance throw away the quarter-inch tape that was in that bucket?” She nodded her head to where Rustling Leaves was written on the side of a tin pail.
She watched Miriam read the words, her eyes widening in a way that indicated she hadn’t read them before.
“You mean . . . that mess of tangled old tape, it was for a sound effect?”
“It was,” Cesca said with a sigh. “I can probably find some more. We still have relics lying about from the days of reel-to-reel.”
“I’ll scrunch it all for you,” Miriam said. “Just show me where it is.”
“And when you notice a hinge attached to a small piece of wood squeaking loudly, could you –”
“Not oil it? Because . . . it’s meant to squeak?”
They were getting somewhere. It wasn’t that Miriam was lazy; she was just young, and her mind had been elsewhere.
“Do you know any hardware stores?” Miriam asked.
Cesca’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?” she asked.
Miriam looked away.
“Well, there was this bit of chain, really thick –”
“Not the horse bridle! You didn’t throw away the horse bridle!”
Miriam headed out of the room, bumping into the desk as she went.
“I’m going to look in the dustbin for that chain, right now!” she said.
Cesca was supposed to be getting ready for a recording but it seemed everybody at the studio wanted to talk to her.
Kevin came in two minutes later.
“The new woman,” he said. “Jennifer?”
“Gerry.”
“She wants to touch the equipment,” Kevin said, looking appalled.
“Kev, it’s not brain surgery, and everybody has to start somewhere.”