The Shooting in the Shop by Simon Brett Page A

and stepbrother?’
    ‘Yes, though it’s more like I’m their aunt, really,
given the age difference.’ Polly seemed noticeably to
have relaxed now her father was not beside her. ‘But
I don’t get a chance to see much of them . . .’ she
looked again with irritation at her watch ‘. . . and,
quite honestly, I’d rather be with Mabel and Henry
at this moment than at a drinks party full of people I
don’t know.’ Realizing how ungracious this must have
sounded, she was quick to apologize.
    ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Carole. ‘I’m not much of a
one for parties myself. It’s just that I live next door, so
I know Jude and . . .’ She shrugged.
    ‘Bit of a life force, isn’t she?’
    Carole had never put it into words before, but
of course, yes, that was exactly what Jude was; a
‘bit of a life force’. With inevitable and dispiriting
logic, Carole wondered what, by comparison, that
made her. She didn’t pursue the thought.
    ‘So you’re not spending Christmas down here,
Polly?’
    ‘No, I’ll be at my boyfriend’s parents’. They live in
Gloucestershire.’
    ‘Oh. Very beautiful county,’ said Carole with all
the fatuity of small talk. ‘Or, at least, bits of it are.’
    ‘The bit where they live certainly is. Near the Slad
Valley. Laurie Lee country. No, we’ll have a few days
down there, living in the lap of luxury, miles away
from the real world, and then we’ll have to come back
to the harsh reality of making a living.’
    ‘And how do you do that? I mean, what do you
do?’
    Polly Le Bonnier wrinkled up her prominent
nose. ‘I’m an actor.’
    ‘Like your grandmother.’
    ‘Yes. Or rather, not like my grandmother. Anyway,
she isn’t really my grandmother.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I’m not Ricky’s real daughter. I’m his stepdaughter.
He married my mother.’
    ‘Ah, and is she still—?’
    But Polly clearly didn’t want to talk about her
mother. She moved brusquely on. ‘No, I’m not like
my grandmother. She was successful. I may have a
famous name – which arguably isn’t mine by right,
anyway – but I’m only an actor when somebody will
employ me. The rest of the time I’m an occasional
barmaid or waitress.’ She sounded rueful rather than
dispirited about her situation.
    ‘Ah. Well, maybe things’ll pick up for you next
year.’
    ‘Maybe.’ Polly didn’t sound like she’d put a very
large bet on the possibility.
    ‘And your boyfriend . . . Is he also . . . ?’ Rather
proudly Carole remembered a phrase Gaby had used
when speaking of the clients at the theatrical agency
where she used to work. ‘Is he also “in the business”?’
    ‘Yes. To some extent. But Piers is a comedy writer
too, so he’s not so dependent on the acting as I am.
Mind you, that may change.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    Polly opened her hands in a gesture of self-deprecation.
‘Just that I’m having a go at writing
something.’
    ‘A comedy script?’
    ‘No, no, it’s more . . .’ She seemed embarrassed to
be talking about her writing. ‘It’s a book, I suppose.
Well, it is a book, yes.’
    ‘Have you finished it?’
    ‘A couple of times.’ Carole looked at her curiously,
so the girl explained, ‘I mean I’ve got to the end a
couple of times. I’ve finished two drafts.’
    ‘Have you shown it to anyone?’
    ‘To Piers. He says he thinks it’s terrific. But then
he would say that, wouldn’t he? Mind you, unwilling
as ever to give me unqualified praise, he says he
doesn’t think it’d have much chance of getting published.
But I’ve also shown the manuscript to a friend
who works in a literary agency. She was quite flattering
about it, though I’m not sure . . . Oh, I’ll finish
another draft – which I nearly have done – then see
what happens. And in the meantime keep looking for
acting work.’
    ‘Well, I wish you a lot of luck with the book.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Is it fact or fiction?’
    Polly