14. CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 14
C lara was finally home after a twelve-hour day in the operating theatre. She flopped onto her sofa, checked her phone to see if Taylor had messaged her and sighed when there was nothing new since she had left the hospital.
She tried to put her phone down but couldn’t help herself and scrolled through all the messages they had exchanged, all the way back to the first photo he had sent her, a selfie of him with a penguin. His face was mostly hidden under his warm clothing, and he was giving her a big thumbs up.
Throwing her phone down on the sofa, she grabbed the remote and switched the television on.
She needed to stop. She was obsessed with his messages, waiting for them to arrive and replying immediately. It wasn’t healthy for her to think so obsessively about a man she wouldn’t ever see again.
Despite the pep talk to herself, when a text arrived, she snatched the phone up and immediately checked it to see a message from Taylor. It was a photo of him in front of a machine, giving her a thumbs-up.
He had captioned it, ‘Arrived in Australia. Having a sneaky peak at the set in the old hospital we’ll be working in.’
‘What is that?’ She typed back.
‘It’s my anaesthetic machine.’
Clara zoomed in on the photo. It was hard to see much of the supposed anaesthetic machine as he blocked most of it, but it didn’t look like anything she had ever used.
‘Can you send me another photo?’ Clara messaged, then put her phone down and walked into the hallway to grab her bag, which had her laptop inside.
Setting it on the table, she emailed the photo to herself for a better look. Zooming in confirmed her suspicions: That was not an anaesthetic machine.
Another photo from Taylor arrived. This time, it was just the machine, which wasn’t an anaesthetic machine; it was a dialysis machine. Not the same in any way, shape, or form.
‘Who told you that was an anaesthetic machine?’ Clara sent back.
‘Our medical adviser.’
Clara opened up the medical register on her laptop before she asked, ‘What’s their name?’
‘Doctor Michael Thackeray.’
She typed his, luckily unusual, name into the medical register, reading the information about him on the screen before she sent, ‘What job does he say he does?’
‘He’s an anaesthetist.’
‘He’s a chiropractor,’ she replied, then took a photo of the information in front of her and texted it to him.
It wasn’t even two minutes before Taylor called her on FaceTime. Clara stared at the image on the screen—she had assigned his selfie with a penguin to his contact—suddenly nervous; she hadn’t spoken to him since he had left.
Taking a few deep breaths, she pressed the button to answer. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Taylor’s smiling face filled the screen. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” Clara breathed, trying to ignore the fluttering of her heart, as she had almost forgotten how handsome he was when he wasn’t wearing the face ferret.
“I only just got back from the Antarctic.”
“I know, you told me already.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Well, I’m back in Australia and came today for a sneaky peek at the hospital.”
“You texted me that, too,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s pretty creepy.” He shuddered, holding the camera up so she could see the near-empty operating theatre he was standing in.
“Hospitals are strange when they’re quiet.”
“Yeah.” He turned the camera so it faced the machine that had been pushed into the corner of the theatre. “This isn’t an anaesthetic machine?”
“Nope.” Clara shook her head.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s for your kidneys, so not even close.”
“I met Doctor Thackeray today; he sounded so convincing. He corrected my technique in holding the instruments you had shown me. I just assumed that I had forgotten a bit.” Taylor ran his hand through his hair. “Shit. Mr Atrosky gave him the script, and he made some corrections to the medical jargon according to his recommendations. Shit. Right, hang on. I’m going to speak to Mr Atrosky. I’ll phone you back in a minute.”
“Sure.” Clara was about to hang up when Taylor spoke again.
“It’s great to actually talk to you. We should do this more often.” And with that, Taylor hung up.
Clara sat at her kitchen table, tapping her fingers on the wooden surface, a little stunned, and when her phone rang again, she hadn’t managed to move.
She answered the FaceTime call. “Hi, Taylor.”
“Clara, I’m going to add Damien Atrosky to the call. He likes to be called Mr Atrosky.” He waited for her to nod, and then another man appeared on her screen. A man who looked to be in his sixties, with a very well-groomed grey beard and slicked-back hair, stared back at her.
“Good evening, Doctor Upford,” Mr Atrosky greeted her formally.
“Mr Atrosky,” she replied.
“I’d like to get right to the point. Taylor has informed me of an issue with some of our equipment.” Mr Atrosky leaned towards the camera.
“Yeah. The machine in the photo I’ve been sent isn’t an anaesthetic machine.”
“Rest assured, an expert has reviewed all our equipment,” the Director snapped.
Clara flinched at his hostility but didn’t let it upset her. “And the name of your expert?”
“Doctor Michael Thackeray. He is a Professor of anaesthetics at Sydney University.”
“Really?” Clara queried. “Where did you find this doctor?”
“He responded to an advert our production department placed,” Mr Atrosky stated. “Are we done here?”
Clara turned her phone to the website open on her computer screen. “This is Mr Thackeray’s medical qualifications. He isn’t a medical doctor; he’s a chiropractor,” she informed him, then waited, giving the Director a chance to read the medical register before she typed her name into it. “And this is me, Doctor Clara Upford. As you can see, I’m an anaesthetist on the specialist register. So Mr Atrosky, when I tell you the photo I received is not an anaesthetic machine and is, in fact, a dialysis machine for kidney failure, I expect to be listened to.”
Mr Atrosky didn’t speak for a long moment until he swore loudly, “Shit. He was so convincing, and I didn’t personally check his background. It’s not like when I first started making movies and had complete control of everything. Productions are now so huge these things can slip through the cracks. Anyway, the buck stops with me, and Mr Thackeray will be fired immediately.”
Clara stared at the agitated man on the top of her screen, then down at Taylor, who was wide-eyed and silent, obviously in awe of the Director.
“This is a huge problem. Doctor Upford, do you have availability in your calendar for some medical advisor work?” Mr Atrosky had his phone in his hand, and was already sending messages to people.
Clara was slightly stunned, replying hesitantly, “Um, sure.” She noticed the broad grin on Taylor’s face when she said yes.
“Excellent. My assistant will contact you tomorrow with the contract and an NDA, which is required, as I’ll be sending you a copy of the script. I’ll have the parts that Mr Thackeray changed highlighted so you can correct them. We have a small amount of flexibility in our shooting schedule to ensure the two weeks we’ll require you on set are suitable. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes, Mr Atrosky.”
Clara had a lot of annual leave saved up and knew Sadie would be delighted if she got to spend some more time with Taylor, so hopefully, getting time off wouldn’t be a problem.
“Excellent. Thank you, Taylor, for bringing this to my attention. Doctor Upford, my assistant will contact you to discuss the timeline in detail. Please could you give your attention to the script as soon as possible.” Mr Atrosky nodded and clicked off the call without waiting for her to reply.
Clara checked he was gone, then said to Taylor, “He’s a friendly fellow.”
Taylor chuckled at her sarcasm. “He’s very dedicated to his work. I’ve heard rumours that if you make it to his inner circle, he would do anything for you. But his circle is small and loyal.”
“Is that why all his films win Oscars?”
“Yeah, and every other award. It’s huge for my career that he’s cast me,” Taylor said very seriously.
“But you were Superman; surely everyone would want to cast you?”
Clara’s stomach growled. She put her hand on it, and when it didn’t stop, she got out of her seat, picked up her phone, and walked over to the fridge to find some food. She hadn’t eaten anything since eleven in the morning when she had been relieved for a tea break at work.
“Nah. There’s a certain reluctance once you’ve played a superhero to take you seriously. Evidently, wearing tights for a few films puts you in a certain box.”
Clara opened her fridge; it was as empty as she knew it would be. It would be toast again then.
“But you looked great in the tights,” she said, her mind forgetting to filter her words in her distraction. “Oh shit.” Slapping her hand over her mouth, she looked guiltily at Taylor’s image on the screen.
However, Taylor was laughing. “Thanks. I missed a lot of desserts to look good in those tights.”
“Which is obviously why you used any excuse when you were at mine to get into the ice cream.” Clara blushed as she recalled them sharing a tub of ice cream.
“Absolutely. Calories consumed from food bought for someone else don’t count.” He nodded seriously.
“Ahhh, an excellent rule.” She managed to keep a straight face.
“Do you think you’ll be able to get the time off work?” He sounded hopeful.
“Yeah. I hope so.”
“Good. It’ll be great to see you again in person.”
“Yeah.” Clara’s heart fluttered at the thought. His messages were the highlight of her days, and she longed to spend more time with him.