Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Delilah was waiting to pretend to be a nosy neighbour in a crime drama. She had one line.
She wasn’t even given a chair to sit on while she waited. Just a bottle of warm Highland Spring and a spot on the floor, next to a recycling bin.
Time stretched. She counted the cracks in the wall. She counted the floor tiles. She counted the seconds in her own pulse.
Finally, her name was called.
The panel barely glanced at her before waving a hand toward the taped-off square on the floor.
‘Your line, please?’ someone said, voice flat.
Delilah nodded and spoke. ‘Is everything all right, Mrs Carter? I saw your bin was still out front this morning.’
Silence. Then a tiny cough from the corner of the room. A casting director scribbled something, not even looking at her.
‘Thanks… next,’ someone muttered.
Delilah exited quickly through the double doors. Relief, if it could be called that, washed over her. She could leave.
It didn’t matter whether she got it or not. That was the worst part. She was starting to forget why the hell she was doing this. It wasn’t for art’s sake, that was for sure. Not auditioning for these piss-pot roles.
She stood on the pavement, dazed, watching buses pass, wondering if she should start drinking in the daytime.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Cassie.
Delilah was so surprised, she nearly dropped the phone. After staring at the name for too long, she picked up the call.
‘Hey,’ she said, trying for light, missing by a mile.
‘Alright,’ Cassie said. ‘How’s it going?’
‘I just got out of an audition.’
A pause. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘Not remotely.’
Cassie let the silence stretch before casually dropping: ‘So, I got in touch with someone.’
Delilah didn’t know what that meant at all. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Rena Rowe.’
Delilah’s whole body snapped to attention. ‘What?’
‘As in, sister-of-Tamsin-Rowe-who-shut-down-your-film Rena Rowe.’
Delilah turned away from the street, found the nearest wall, and leaned hard against it. ‘You spoke to her?’
‘Well, I mean, I didn’t speak to her. I spoke to a guy who knows her husband, and somehow that’s turned into… she’s agreed to meet you. I don’t know if it will change anything, obviously. It probably won’t. But I thought you deserved a conversation.’
Delilah said nothing. She couldn’t.
‘Delilah?’
‘I’m here,’ she managed to say. ‘You… you did this?’
‘Not really. I just passed your name along. I wasn’t even expecting her to say yes.’
‘But she did.’
‘Apparently.’
Delilah pressed a hand to her forehead. She wanted to cry. Or scream. Or throw herself into Cassie’s arms and not let go.
‘Cassie,’ she said quietly, ‘thank you.’
‘Don’t,’ Cassie muttered. ‘I only called someone.’
‘Yes, you did. Which was a serious favour. And now I have the temerity to ask you for another.’
‘Right…’
‘I know I’m pushing my luck, but… will you come with me? To meet her?’
Cassie didn’t answer right away. Delilah could practically hear the internal protest. But then:
‘Fine. But I’m a statue. I sit there, and I don’t speak.’
Delilah smiled, the first real one all day. ‘Fair.’
She ended the call and let her head fall back against the wall.
Cassie was coming with her. And Rena was willing to talk to her.
Maybe this story wasn’t over yet.