Dead Giveaway

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‘Mr. . Paris did you say?’

‘Yes.’

The girl on the desk at West End Television’s main Reception looked dubiously down at a list. Charles Paris’s name didn’t seem to leap out of the page at her.

‘For what show did you say?’

‘If The Cap Fits.’

This title did not dispel her scepticism. ‘No show of that name down on my list.’

‘It’s a pilot of a new game show. Something to do with hats.’

‘Hats. Ah.’ Comprehension dawned slowly. ‘That might be what I’ve got down here as Hats Off!’

‘It could be. Maybe the title’s been changed. As I say, it is only a pilot. Studio A,’ Charles added helpfully.

‘Yes, that’s where Hats Off!’s booked in.’ The girl was forced, regretfully, to accept his bona fides. ‘All right. If you like to sit down over there, someone will be down shortly.’

‘Thank you.’

Charles started towards the low upholstered sofa she had indicated, when the girl’s voice stopped him. ‘That is, unless you’re one of the celebrities. If you are, they’ll send someone down specially.’

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