She also was drinking lager in pubs as an attempt to appear as a regular type. I dread to think what the actual locals thought to see this make-believe re-enactment before their eyes, but I imagine it was the source of much mirth. I mean, people tend to see through that stuff, and nobody would be dumb enough to have Saffron pull the wool over their eyes, would they? And finally, her eating habits changed. Just sensible eating like a yokel type habits would see her through. The first thing she did was try a battered Mars bar, of course.
But she soon picked up that food like that is for tourists and not how they really eat up in the Scottish second city. Better was the regular cod and chips, piping hot fish that fell apart when you put a knife through it and chips decadent and greasy, coated with lashings of vinegar and a small beans on the side. But mainly she was queueing to eat. Other food stuffs included the famed Glasgow curry houses with a preference for creamy tikkas or sweet and spicy jalfrezis, served with naan bread and poppadoms, maybe with onion bhajis, pakoras and samosas.
She face-timed me a month into this palaver and I must admit I was anxious to see her beauty fade with these indulgences. But when the screen popped up, I could barely tell a difference. Her hair was undyed now, her dark mousy and unappetising natural hair-colour replacing the Monroe sugary yellow of yore. But everything else was the same. Her cheekbones still distinguished, drawing attention to those cat-like eyes of hers, piercing and wide. Her collarbone maybe a little less angrily angular now, finessed with the slightest layer of fat to seem calmer and less noticeable.
But her jawline was as strong as ever, and her arms lithe in the loose sleeveless t-shirt she wore. She spent the entire time talking in her new-found Scottish tongue, as she tried to make the words fit her mouth more naturally and the slang feel more fluid. And then she mentioned her weight. Oh wait, had I not mentioned this yet? Oh yes, actors and actresses are famously thick. They come across all posh and well-educated but as the saying goes… the limelight, it attracts only ditzes and moths. Well, Saffron was no moth.
Which is practically on schedule. She stood up proudly and lifted up her shirt as if show-boating. Like it was something to be proud of.
And given that it was a task she had set herself, I guess in a way it was something to be proud of. The virginal gain had seen her stomach soften further, making it tender and cushioned, but still fairly flat thankfully.
The way the tracksuit bottoms fitted made it flattering on her waist, loose enough to still prevent that devilish over-spill. Turning to the side, the bottom seemed larger. Not big or anything, just more formally pronounced, as if it was there now and not just in name.
This was the situation when the London season broke up and Mr. I only ask one kindness. A love poem that grabs me by the throat might leave you bored — and more importantly, its pleasure, like wine, depends on who you share it with. There was no reply to this question, and Margaret could not get another word from Logotheti. Terms of Service. If you thought vegan food was as unsexy and uninteresting as it got, think again my friend. The script was still in minor flux while they continued to make concessions to accommodate film production companies who wanted a slice of the pie but had concerns over the darkness of the material.
Walking down the street, men would love that figure on a lady like her. But Hollywood has higher standards and I prayed that her taking it off would be as easy as putting it back on. Maybe mine was too, along with it. A Filipino woman setting up a business in London seemed empowering at the time, but my enthusiasm had suffered in the hands of the under-achieving divas and prima donnas.
So I made a note to get a second pack of Starburst to ease the malaise.
Another month later and I got in touch with Saffron again. She had recently been working in a gastro-pub in the slightly swankier side of town, to help cover the rent but also to immerse in the day-to-day experience of a Glaswegian. They love to believe they go above and beyond the call of duty for the parts that they really dig, and you just have to let them feed their own ego I guess.
She seemed in good spirits, and detailed her last meeting with the eminent Mr Tennant.
They had done a quick read through of some of the scenes that he had figured were now settled. She was getting into it now, and was hoping to see a final draft soon. The final slice of funding had come through thanks to Film4 finally getting on board after a huge amount of persuasion. It was that last word that got Saffron giddy.
Typical freshie. It can only do your profile good. Having somebody indelibly tied to a successful home-grown movie might get her over the threshold and give her a big break in Hollywood. And maybe our agency with it.
You can but hope. We needed the lift. It was good news all round as far as I was concerned. One, shooting in just four more weeks means we can get her booked for other things soon, afterwards. This stewing around and waiting was unproductive, but asking her to audition for other parts looking like she did would be pointless.
She had managed to add 11lbs further to her young and earnest frame, finally developing the love-handles she craved on the lb body. She had shown them to me again with pride, like they were trophies on the mantlepiece. They swayed out of her tracksuit waistband by a good inch. The rest of her stomach peered over the tip of the waistband at the front a little, like toes off a diving board.
Then, her stomach swayed in gently towards a faded ribcage that was now wrapped in shallow fatty swaddling. Her breasts were now worth acknowledging, since they looked less like they had crested and more like they were cresting.
To her side, I could also see her butt, despite its regular size, seem looser and less taut. The legs also continued this trend of diminished muscle tone on her lower half, softer than their size would anticipate. Her face still stayed the same, and her body would flatter any street it strode down.
But all I could see when I looked at her was my golden goose that was fattened up for Christmas. But lbs in an office trumped lb in the field, for my money. I sighed as I fiddled with my office shirt with its puckering buttons. Some success at the BAFTAs could help lift this place out of a funk, it would be just the ticket in fact.
But, in the meantime, biscuits. The four weeks flew by for Saffron, apparently. I was beginning to find there to be a frequent divergence between her words and the reality, and was slowly learning to tell them apart. Maybe she was a good liar, but her fake promises were not as opaque to me any more. I was getting anxious, and snacking a bit to quell the nerves.
And the feedback from the producers was positive. For the most part. Only for the most part because, yes, they mentioned her weight. And the consequence was she no longer looked special, she now just looked regular. Nothing glamour puss about her.