could have explained Toby’s trouserless state and the slight delay, but Gemma doubted it. Caitlin’s hair was all mussed up and her sweater was on inside out.
She said nothing. She didn’t care what they got up to – although she’d thought Cait had a bit more sense. All she cared about was getting one hot film star back into his leathers and onto a speeding motorbike.
‘All fixed now?’ she asked, checking her watch yet again.
Caitlin nodded.
‘Great. Then perhaps you could help Toby into his clothes, so we can get going?’ She hadn’t been able to help that little inflection. Too tempting. But to take any sting out of the comment, she teamed it up with her best Second Assistant Director smile. Her secret weapon.
Toby and Caitlin exchanged guilty glances and then he ran a hand through his hair, looking just the tiniest bit sheepish.
Job done. In one smooth move she’d let them know she wasn’t a pushover, but that she also wasn’t going to get her knickers in a twist about it – as long as Toby was out of that trailer door in full costume in the next five minutes, of course.
The wry smile he gave her said: Message received and understood.
She smiled back, a real one this time, and pulled her hood up over her hair, only to discover that in the heat of the trailer her curls had frizzed to twice their usual volume. Fabulous. She jammed her hood over the fluff and headed for the door, bracing herself, and then she was out into the driving wind, clutching her coat closed as she trudged across the car park of the Victorian hunting lodge they were using as their base. She didn’t even take a moment to drink in the rugged scenery: the choppy, grey lough and the ancient rugged mountain that towered over it. She did use the opportunity to mutter a few choice words into the wind, words concerning toddler-brained actors, weather that seemed to have a personal vendetta against her and anything else that came to mind.
The warmth of Toby’s trailer had made coming back out into the freezing cold even worse, which didn’t improve her mood much. It also sparked a longing within her.
She wished she really was lazing on a palm-fringed beach. The urge to jump on a plane and do just that when this shoot was finished was becoming irresistible.
It had been a long job, maybe that was it. She really deserved a quiet, relaxing Christmas when this was all over, before she jumped on another plane to another far-flung location and it started all over again. She sighed. That sunlounger on a Caribbean beach was practically calling her name.
If only she hadn’t caved in to Juliet’s nagging and told her she’d spend Christmas at hers. Juliet had gone on and on about Christmas the last time Gemma had seen her and Gemma had eventually just blurted something out to keep her quiet.
It had all been Juliet’s next-door neighbour’s fault. If he hadn’t picked a fight with her, she’d have never had three G&Ts, and then she might have been able to talk her way out of it. At the very least she might have been able to remember exactly what Juliet had said to her. The only thing to do now was to play along and pick up the details piece by piece. Juliet was sure to give her chapter and verse at some point, anyway. Probably in the form of a laminated sheet with idiot-proof instructions.
But that wasn’t something she was going to worry about at this precise moment. It was time to get one up-himself action star onto the set. She signalled for the luxury four-wheel drive that was ready and waiting, puffs of smoke rhythmically pumping out of its exhaust. Toby emerged from his trailer as it pulled near and ten seconds later the car was speeding away up the drive. When it had disappeared from view, Gemma smiled to herself. Now that was why she earned her lovely fat pay cheque.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called through to a rather harried First AD to let him know that their star was on his way. Fabulous. Time to go and start dishing out those call sheets …
Her phone had just hit the bottom of her pocket when it buzzed at her again.
What now? She hoped desperately that they weren’t going to tell her it had started raining again and that she’d be back on A-list babysitting duty within ten minutes. But when she stared at the caller ID she realised it wasn’t either of those options.
I know you must be terribly busy rubbing shoulders with Brad Pitt or whoever, but I really need to talk to you about Christmas. ;-) Call me. Jx
The cute little winky face didn’t fool Gemma one bit. She could hear the silent screaming that had gone on while her sister had composed her breezy little message. She stared at it as the screen dimmed from bright to half-lit. She knew she needed to talk to Juliet about Christmas. She’d known it for about a fortnight now. But …
The image of a gently swaying palm tree over golden sand and a cocktail big enough to house goldfish flitted across her mind.
She sighed.
She wasn’t in the mood to talk about gingerbread recipes ad nauseam or debate whether to have turkey or goose for the big day. She also wasn’t in the mood to deal with thinly veiled comments on how she lived her life, how often she phoned or if she’d remembered to ask about the kids’ school reports. If she responded now she’d only come across as stressed and defensive. Which she was.
Later. She’d talk to Juliet later. When she’d finished work. When she had more time.
When she’d had a couple of gin and tonics, maybe.
Twenty minutes later Juliet found herself standing outside the ball pit in the local leisure centre’s soft-play area. She closed her eyes and opened them again, not quite able to believe what she was seeing. There was Great-aunt Sylvia, sitting in the middle of the thousands of brightly coloured plastic balls, looking grim. Apart from her aunt, herself and two uniformed officers, the play area was almost deserted. A few cross-looking mothers were hurrying their children into their coats and shoes and tutting about having to cut short their afternoon’s activities.
‘She won’t come out, no matter what we say,’ the petite female officer told Juliet. ‘She keeps asking for Mary.’
Juliet nodded. Well, no luck there. Her mother had been dead for almost five years. She stepped into the ball pond and waded towards her aunt. ‘Hello, Aunt Sylvia … These nice police officers are wondering if you’d like to come out of here now.’
Aunt Sylvia shot a withering look at the two uniformed people looking on. ‘I don’t like the look of that girl. Eyes are too close together. She’ll get up to no good when she grows up, you mark my words!’
Juliet stared at her great-aunt helplessly. Somewhere deep inside she wanted to weep – for the indignity of the situation the old woman was in now, for who she’d become and who she’d forgotten she’d once been – but Juliet didn’t do crying. Not in public, at least. And especially not when everyone else was expecting her to make everything right again.
She held out her hand. ‘It’s time to go home now, Aunt Sylvia. Come on …’
Her
