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“Do you want to take the part of the guest?” he says, smiling slightly.
“Sure, although I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“I’ll fetch my script.” He wanders away, going back to the table.
“Won’t you need it?” I ask as he starts back, bringing a stool for me to sit on, which he sets down at the end of the island unit.
“No. I’m hoping I know my lines well enough by now. But if I slip up, let me know.”
He hands me the script, and I take my seat, waiting while he gets into position. Then he looks up to where the camera will probably be, and takes a breath before he delivers a perfectly worded welcome speech, introducing ‘this week’s guest’, who’s called ‘Lyla’.
I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, and he spins around, looking at me.
“It’s your turn,” he says. “You just need to say ‘hello’.”
I startle. “I—I know, but you’re talking with an American accent.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Okay, you’re not now, but you were just then… when you were being Blain.”
“I know. Blain is American. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I assumed they’d chosen you because you were English.”
He nods his head. “Ahh… so you didn’t think they’d picked me for my incomparable acting abilities, either?”
He can hear the disappointment in his voice, and I can’t say I’m surprised by it. After all, I’ve done nothing but insult him since the moment we first met. “I’m sorry.” He looks at me like he’s waiting, but I’m careful to limit myself to an apology this time, and after a few seconds, he smiles.
“Don’t be. I guess I’d better get used to humiliating myself. It’s going to be my face appearing on a show called ‘Meal Master’, and all the publicity material that goes with it.”
“Do you think that’s as bad as I do?”
“The name?” I nod my head and his smile widens. “Of course. But what can I say? They’ve decided on it already, and they’re not about to change it.”
“I’m just grateful I’m going to be hidden behind the cameras.”
“Not for today, you’re not…” He stares at me for a moment or two. “Shall we try that again?”
“Okay.”
He takes another breath, like he needs it to get back into character again, and delivers his opening lines, his American accent no longer taking me by surprise, although I’m impressed by it. If I didn’t know he was English, I’d never have guessed…
We work our way through the script and, with just one exception, Blake gets it word perfect. Even that exception is only very slight, and I don’t pick him up on it at the time.
“How was that?” he says, when we get to the end.
“It was amazing. You remembered everything I showed you yesterday, and you were almost word perfect.”
“Almost?” He frowns slightly.
“You said ‘pour’, instead of ‘drizzle’, when you were pretending to put the oil onto the lamb, but that doesn’t matter. They both mean the same thing.”
“Except ‘drizzle’ is more accurate.”
“Maybe, but don’t beat yourself up over it. You got everything else right.”
He nods his head, letting out a breath. “What’s the time?” he asks.
