Melt. Lisa Walker

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      The train stops and I get out. On the way to the office I see a guy I know slightly from his appearance on a Channel Five sports show. I wave. ‘Hi, George, that was such bad luck you didn’t make the football team. You’ve been training for ages and I know you wanted to make your father proud of you because he’s always thought you were a sissy, not like your older brother Michael who plays for Australia.’ My head is so full of scripts I sometimes sound like an extra in Neighbours. It’s an occupational hazard.

      George is a silent type. He smiles vaguely. ‘Hot day.’

      I stop at the corner and buy a copy of The Big Issue as always. ‘Hey, Bill, this issue looks great. I loved the story in the last one about the woman who met up with her brother after thirty years. The story about the Titanic was excellent too.’

      ‘Hot day,’ says Bill as he pockets my change. He is obviously a silent type too.

      Bill and George are right. It is a hot day. The sun beats on my head as I walk the last block to the office. State is a tinderbox, screams the headline on a newspaper stand. But they always say that, don’t they?

      My fingers itch and I reach into my bag. I try to restrain myself to once a week but today, although it has only been three days, I touch Marley’s number on my phone. It rings, and I hear him: Hello, Marley here, please leave a message. ‘Hey, Marley, it’s Summer here, I miss you.’ I press ‘end’ and suck in a gulp of hot air as I drop the phone back in my bag. That is it. That is definitely it for another week. I have got to stop calling Marley. I have got to stop.

      The glass doors swish open and a delicious cool envelops me as I step inside the foyer of Channel Five. Twenty-three degrees. Perfect. A huge bunch of red roses decorates the reception desk. As Jacinta the receptionist is a hipster, these must be an ironic statement of love from her boyfriend, a lank-haired indie muso. They only just got back from a holiday in Iceland where they had a ball writing doleful poetry in bars. For short breaks, they usually do the same thing in Melbourne. Melbourne, according to Jacinta, is much hipper than Sydney, but nowhere near as hip as Reykjavik. Hipness appears to be inversely proportional to sunshine. Hobart, Jacinta says, is about to become the hippest city in Australia.

      ‘Hi, Jacinta,’ I say. ‘Wow, is that bunch of flowers from your boyfriend? I’m so glad you’ve finally got a nice guy. You’ve been going from ratbag to ratbag for ages and you deserve much better, especially now you’ve dyed your hair that gorgeous colour and ditched those heavy glasses.’

      Jacinta tucks her fire-engine red hair behind her ears. She is used to it. All the scriptwriters speak like that. ‘Hi, Summer. Maxine’s in a state. Harry from Up and at ’Em got a better offer at Four.’

      ‘Damn. They can put him in a coma, can’t they?’

      Jacinta shakes her head, her teardrop-shape retro glasses shining in the down-lights. ‘Jo’s already in a coma.’

      Jo is Harry’s screen wife, who in real life is currently getting married in Hawaii, hence the coma. ‘It could be contagious?’

      ‘She was in a car crash.’ Jacinta puts her head on one side.

      ‘True.’ I consider this. ‘Hospital bug?’

      ‘Maybe. But there’s still the long-lost uncle plot.’

      I wave my hand breezily. ‘Let him stay lost.’

      ‘You should be a scriptwriter, Summer.’ Jacinta flicks through her notes with her long, black fingernails. ‘Production meeting for In the Wild is in meeting room two.’

      In meeting room two, Maxine, my boss and Channel Five’s creative director, is looking anxious. Consequently, the rest of the team are even more anxious. This is nothing new. People are always anxious in production meetings for In the Wild with Cougar.

      Maxine has perfectly coiffed flaxen hair and large blue eyes. While she looks like a fifties-style Stepford Wife she is in fact one of the most feared people in television. I have seen large men weep after meetings with Maxine. Even in an industry rife with neurotics, divas and power-hungry stress-heads, Maxine has a reputation.

      When I first joined Channel Five Jacinta took me aside. ‘There’s something you need to know about Maxine.’

      I waited expectantly.

      ‘Never say can’t, only can. If someone says can’t, it sends her berserk.’ She drew her finger across her throat. ‘I’m not joking. There was a meeting once, it was before my time, but I’ve been told about it.’ Jacinta’s eyes darted around the room and she whispered, ‘She sacked everyone in the room. On the spot.’ I must have looked doubtful because she added, ‘You can ask anyone. Just mention Charlie’s Adventure. You’ll see.’

      I thought Jacinta was exaggerating until I saw a set designer tell Maxine he couldn’t find a live elephant for a dream sequence in Up and At ’Em. It was horrifying, like that scene in Alien where a fanged monster bursts out of John Hurt’s chest and tears its victim to shreds. So far, I have managed to avoid being on the receiving end of that attack.

      In the Wild with Cougar is one of our highest-rating shows. This makes it high stakes in the ratings war against Channel Four, our closest competitor. We put it up against their popular Kitchen Talent show at seven-thirty on Thursday night. So far, In the Wild is thrashing Kitchen Talent but far from making our team cock-a-hoop it has the opposite effect. The problem with In the Wild is that it all rests on the dynamic, beautiful, charismatic, highly intelligent and unpredictable Cougar Gale.

      This is problematic for two reasons. One being that a star performer can so easily be lured away. Two being that Cougar Gale is poison to work with and only becomes worse as each TV poll shows her to be one of the biggest stars in Australian television. Cougar has cross-­demographic appeal. Both men and women love her tough-girl sexiness while kids are drawn to her can-do attitude to wilderness survival. Cougar is that rare star who families, singles and, it is rumoured, even the Prime Minister, love to watch. Hence, as I walk into the production meeting, right on time, the anxiety in the room hovers as palpably as the smoke haze outside.

      I take my seat at the table and open my laptop. ‘Is Cougar coming?’

      Maxine takes a sip of her coffee, leaving bright red lipstick marks on the paper rim. She gestures with her chin. A glass of freshly squeezed mixed vegetable juice sits in front of an empty, expensive, ergonomically-designed chair with a knee rest but no back support. Cougar believes the human race started declining when we discovered chairs.

      ‘Fill us in on the details for the next series while we wait, Summer.’ Maxine’s voice is controlled, but I sense the monster stirring within.

      Can, not can’t. I call up my spreadsheet. The next series will be filmed in Antarctica. It’s ground-breaking and all very hush-hush. Anyone who breathes a word about it outside the walls of Channel Five will be found the next morning with their throat ripped open. It has been rumoured Maxine lists hit-men as a deduction on her tax return.

      We’re calling our new show Cougar on Ice and it’s going to blow Channel Four out of the water when it goes to air in the peak ratings period. It will be the first Australian commercial TV series to ever be filmed totally in Antarctica. There have been one-offs before, but this is different – seven episodes with major product placement. The advertising СКАЧАТЬ