A Winter's Tale (The Shakespeare Sisters 2)

– Richard III

‘This is good. Really good.’ Her supervisor paused the video and turned around in his swivel chair to look at her. ‘The edits made a huge difference – did you document what you did in the project report?’

Kitty lifted the file that was sitting on her lap. ‘It’s all in here.’ It had been drummed into them from the beginning that the report was as important as the reel itself. They had to journal every part of the process – from turning the idea into a script, to finalising the finished product. ‘I finished writing it all up on Friday,’ she told him. ‘It’s ready to go now.’

‘You didn’t take much of a break over the holidays,’ he pointed out. ‘Did you stay in LA?’

‘For some of the time,’ she said, not wanting to get into things with him. She’d played the past weeks over in her head again and again. It was as familiar to her as her showreel. Scenes of her running in the snow to Adam’s house, of her reading the script with his name on. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly down, she’d try to change the ending. Imaginary Kitty would tell imaginary Adam about Everett’s plans straight away. But after that, there was always a blankness. She had no idea how that would have turned out.

‘Did you hear back from any of your interviews?’ he asked her, looking up from the desk. ‘You had that one at Klein Productions, right?’

Damn, she’d forgotten she’d told him about that. Every time she heard that name, it made her heart pound like a bass drum. ‘Yeah, that’s a no go,’ she said. ‘I heard back last week.’

It wasn’t a lie, she told herself.

‘Damn.’ He shook his head then gave a sigh. ‘I was sure you’d get an internship by now. You’re one of my best students. Maybe we should take a look at your resumé again, make sure it’s hitting the right buttons. Or should we work on your interview technique? What are your thoughts?’

Kitty licked her dry lips. It all felt like too little too late, but what other choice did she have? She’d tried the sitting-in-her-apartment-crying option, and look how that worked out for her.

‘That would be good.’ She nodded. ‘But just in case, I’m thinking of applying to some production companies in London,’ she told him. ‘I might have more luck over there.’

He frowned. ‘I thought you wanted to stay in LA? I remember when you first arrived you were so excited to be in Hollywood. What’s changed?’

There was a noise from outside the door as a group of students walked past, talking loudly about something. Her supervisor checked his watch for the time.

‘I’m just trying to be realistic,’ Kitty said. ‘Maybe I’m not meant to work over here. Maybe my skills are better served in London.’

‘No, that’s not true. You’re trying to settle, and that sucks. Don’t stop dreaming, Kitty, and don’t give up. This isn’t over until you decide it is.’

The problem was, she’d already made her decision.

‘Just sit on it for a while,’ he suggested. ‘There are a couple of people I want to talk to before you give up completely. I think you could do really well over here.’ He checked his watch again, muttering under his breath. ‘Damn, we need to get to the lecture theatre. I’m supposed to introduce our guest speaker.’ He got up from his chair, closing his laptop and sliding it in his desk drawer. ‘We’ll talk about this later, OK?’

‘Sure.’

The lecture theatre was almost full by the time she arrived – surprising for the first week back at school. She said hello to a few people as she walked up the stairs, heading for her preferred seat at the back of the room, sliding into a chair next to a small brunette she knew from a post-production class she’d taken earlier in the year. She’d barely pulled her notepad out and put it on the desk when the lights above them dimmed, leaving the only illumination on the podium at the front of the room.

‘Happy New Year, everybody, and thanks for arriving so promptly.’

Kitty couldn’t help smiling at the irony of her supervisor’s words.

‘Today we’ve a small change in our lecture schedule. Rather than the advertised lecture on changes to the distribution network, we’re going to be discussing documentary production, and how to find the truth in lies.’

Oh great, just what she needed. School was supposed to be the one place she could come and not think about Adam – and now they were going to be discussing his niche subject. Well played, UCLA.

‘And though our guest speaker needs no introduction, I’m going to give him one anyway. He’s an alumnus of this film school, and since graduation has gone on to make reflective and insightful documentaries showing the human side of issues such as domestic terrorism, the modern slave trade, and more recently, drug trafficking. His documentaries have twice been nominated for the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature, and in 2013 he won the Critics Choice Award for the documentary Truth in Lies – Looking for the Real Michael Davies. So please join with me to give a big welcome to Adam Klein.’

She was frozen to her chair as she watched him appear on the podium, his gait strong and easy as he walked up and shook hands with her supervisor. Even from this distance he looked so different than she remembered. Instead of the jeans and checked shirt she was used to seeing him in, he was wearing tailored trousers and a white cotton shirt, open at the neck to reveal his freshly shaven skin. The beard had gone completely, so had the messy, overgrown hair, and for a moment she found herself bereft at their absence.

It felt as though somebody had taken her Adam away, and replaced him with a doppelganger.

But then he began to speak.

‘Good morning, everybody. I’m going to keep this as short as I can, so I don’t send any of you back to sleep.’ Laughter erupted around the theatre. ‘I’m really pleased to be here today to be able to share a little about the documentary-making process, and to give you a few ideas of why I believe it’s the truest, purest form of the film-making arts.’

He took a breath and pressed a clicker to bring the screen above him to life. ‘Errol Morris – a friend of mine – once said that what interested him about documentary was the fact that at the onset we never know how the story ends. That’s what makes it different to filming a scripted story. But for me it isn’t the ending that matters, it’s the process, it’s finding the truth piece by piece, by pulling back the layers until the facts are finally exposed.’

The room around her was quiet, save for the soft breaths of a couple of hundred students. They stared raptly as Adam continued.