What happens in the video
Beside a red sports car, a woman in a yellow top and white shorts shows a sheet of paper to a man in black. They gesture towards each other as they speak. A woman in a pale suit approaches with a tablet. The two women look over the paper and tablet together before the younger woman turns back to the man. The arrangement described on the paper is unclear.
Continuation:
Evie had printed the email at the library for twenty pence, because her phone always picked the worst possible moment to run out of charge. Now the man beside the red convertible was looking at the printout with an expression that suggested the printer might as well have eaten her money.
“You’ve booked a drive,” he said. “Where’s the driver?”
“Standing in front of you.”
He looked confused. Evie looked at the email again. Halfway down, under *driver’s name*, she had written *Evie Bell*. Under *special requests* she had written *one hour parked, roof down, please*. She held the page up and showed him the second line.
He turned out his palms. “Why hire a car to keep it here?”
She had explained the whole thing on the telephone. She was tired of explaining it, particularly this part, beside a gleaming car where passers-by could listen. A woman carrying a tablet recognised her name and came across from the showroom.
“I took your booking. How’s the light here?”
“Good. A bit of shade on the passenger side would help.”
Now the man looked completely lost. The woman with the tablet showed him the booking notes. Evie was a sound designer. Her first paid job was a little radio play set almost entirely in an open car, and she had promised the director she could make an audience hear the difference between a driver arriving alone and two people leaving together.
At home she had tried a cupboard door, an office chair and her neighbour’s ancient hatchback. Everything sounded like a cupboard, a chair or her neighbour’s ancient hatchback. This car was the largest single expense in the budget. She had forty-eight minutes left.
The man moved his keys away from his belt so they wouldn’t jingle. “Want somebody in the passenger seat?”
She handed him the script. “Page two. Just do what it says in brackets.”
He lowered himself into the seat, pulled the door closed and fumbled with the belt. His first attempt was smooth and ordinary. On the second he read the line above the brackets. The character was coming home after eleven years. This time he rested his hand on the latch for a moment before pulling it shut.
Through her headphones, Evie heard the leather creak into the silence. That tiny hesitation did more than the line of dialogue she’d been worrying about all week.
They finished with four minutes to spare. At the first broadcast she sent the showroom a link and waited for the man to recognise his door.
His reply came that evening. *My wife knew it was me before the engine even started.*
Evie saved that message with the recording. It was the first review her work had ever received.
