Chapter 22
GEORGIE
Georgie knew she was going to be a little late for the party, but she also knew that her mum would be in shindig-heaven, surrounded by all her pals, and wouldn’t even have noticed that she wasn’t there yet.
As soon as Flynn had bolted out, sparks coming off his heels, she’d headed for the shower and soaked under the hot jets until she’d washed the duplicity of their conversation from her mind.
As she’d rinsed off her favourite mango bodywash, the little angel that lived on one of Georgie’s shoulders, the mature, conscientious, paragon of positive co-parenting, had told her that by handling it the way that she had, without full disclosure or accusations, they would have a healthy, friendly relationship moving forward.
In a couple of years, they would celebrate Kayleigh’s twenty-first as a family, they would link arms and beam with pride when she graduated, if she chose to get married (and right now Georgie would strongly advise against it), they would dance at her wedding and they would cry happy tears if she made them grandparents.
However, the little devil on her other shoulder hadn’t been able to get past hoping that Monica would dump him on his arse and he’d wither away, loveless and sexless until his penis fell off. The devil watched too many crime shows.
When she’d got out of the shower, Georgie had pulled the rubber cap off her head and let loose her wild, tangled mane of copper curls, giving thanks that big hair was back in fashion and she didn’t have to spend the next hour of her life straightening it and forcing it to behave.
Instead, that time had been spent whipping on a smoky eye, a matte base, a bit of contour and a nude lip, figuring that maybe if she was worried about spoiling carefully applied make-up, she wouldn’t cry when she thought about the job she was giving up, or the fact that she was saying goodbye to her mother.
She still wasn’t sure which one was breaking her heart more.
Face done, she’d pulled her favourite silver slinky frock from the wardrobe, deciding it was close enough to Christmas to go out looking like a disco ball from the eighties. Besides, she didn’t get out much and it had been a tough week, so for once she’d been going for a bit of glamour.
She’d hung the dress on the front of her wardrobe, while she’d slapped on some Chanel No.
5 body lotion, then pulled on her dressing gown, just as there was a knock on her bedroom door.
Her stomach had flipped. If that was Flynn back, saying that he’d reconsidered and wanted to sign up for more fatherhood, she was leaving the country in her mother’s suitcase tomorrow.
Thankfully, it was Kayleigh that had popped her head round the door.
‘Mum, it’s time to go. Oh. Not ready.’ Her daughter had pointed out the obvious.
‘I’m running late, sweetheart. You and Uncle Grant go ahead, and I’ll meet you there. ’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! Cover for me and hopefully Gran won’t notice I’m late. It would be embarrassing to get grounded at thirty-eight.’
‘I’ll create a diversion, don’t worry. I’ll tell her I’m pregnant or on bail for something juicy.’
Georgie had chuckled. ‘I said cover for me, not kill her.’
‘Okay, maybe something not quite so dramatic then. We’ll see you when you get there.’
The next thing she’d heard were shouts of goodbyes and the front door opening and closing.
Still in her dressing gown, she’d sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her laptop out of the drawer beside her.
The producer from The Clansman had told her they’d be sending over all the details of the job offer today, but she’d been too busy dealing with an ex-husband, his girlfriend, three dancing retirees, and trivial things like her existential crisis about the future of her life, to check her emails.
The decision to refuse the job had already been taken. She wasn’t going to risk the future of a salon that was her mum’s life’s work and greatest gift to her, but she might as well torture herself by seeing what she was missing.
After she’d fired up the laptop, she’d scrolled through multiple emails offering discounts on everything from skin care to fashion to – slightly worryingly – a three-day course to explore her inner goddess. Her inner goddess decided that all she wanted to do was find the bloody email from…
Clansman Productions. There it was.
Just seeing it had made her skin tingle. The fact that a company like that knew who she was blew her away, even if it was via the star pulling some strings.
As she’d begun to read it though, Georgie had realised that opening the document had been a mistake.
It was a six-month contract, but the salary was more than she’d earned last year.
She’d be provided with accommodation in a hotel or apartment of a commensurate standard.
Yes, she’d be expected to be on set for approximately ten hours per day, five days per week, but all food and expenses would be taken care of, including return business-class flights from her home city to the location of the shoot.
Holy. Swanky. Shit.
The rest of the pages on the document were a Non-Disclosure Agreement (both compulsory and standard), contract terms and conditions and a medical questionnaire. But none of the bureaucratic stuff had stuck in her brain, because she’d kept going back to the highlights of the offer.
It was a great package. Stunning. And while the thought of doing something so far out of her comfort zone filled her with absolute terror, at any other time in her life she’d have jumped at it.
Just not now. And the knot that had been twisting her gut since Ollie first broached this with her had become unbearable.
For her own sanity and wellbeing, she had to shut this down.
Close it off. Put it behind her and move on.
She’d resolved to speak to Moira later and get Ollie’s contact details so that she could call him to thank him and explain her reasons for declining.
Moira had told them about the time that he’d flown from LA to Hong Kong because she’d been in an accident, so Georgie was pretty sure that he was the kind of guy who would understand her family loyalties and her reasons for staying here.
Before that, though, she had to formally reject the offer.
She’d skimmed back down to the covering letter, looking for the response method.
‘Please reply with urgency to this email indicating your acceptance/refusal of this offer. Alternatively, please call…’ Georgie had checked her phone and seen that it was the same number that had called this morning.
She’d briefly considered th e options and decided to call, checking the time difference first. They were eight hours behind in LA.
Almost lunchtime. Okay, so she wasn’t going to get the woman out of her bed to deliver the news.
Her fingers had trembled a little as she’d clicked on her recent calls again, located the number and pressed connect. She’d been hyped up and ready to speak, when it went straight to voicemail.
‘Hello, this is Bonnie Katowski from Clansman Productions…’
Listening to the recording, Georgie had begun to panic as she’d tried to decide whether to leave a message or call back.
A message. Definitely. It was the only way to get this over with, so that she didn’t have to think about it again.
For some reason that she didn’t quite understand, she’d squeezed her eyes shut as she’d begun to speak.
‘Hello Bonnie, this is Georgie Dern. We spoke this morning when you very kindly let me know about the offer of a position as Ollie Chiles’ hairstylist on The Clansman .’
The angel and devil had returned to her shoulders and this time the angel was telling her that she was doing the right thing, being a loyal daughter and making a decision that would allow her to thrive as the successful owner of her own business.
Meanwhile, the devil had slapped his hand to his forehead and told her she was a total tit for passing up the opportunity to do something wild.
‘You did say that you would like a swift decision, so I just wanted to let you know…’
That was it. Last chance to go one way or another.
‘I’m afraid I am unable to accept the position, but thank you for the opportunity.’
Eyes still closed, it had taken her three attempts to hit the button to hang up, but she got there in the end.
It was done. Over .
She’d done a quick check to try to ascertain how she was feeling, and the result was…
relieved. A bit sad too, but mostly just relieved.
No more secrets. No turmoil. No dilemmas.
She wasn’t like Grant, who relished a risk and thrived on adventure.
She was a creature of habit, of familiarity and the whole thing would probably have scared her to death anyway, so she’d just saved herself a whole lot of heartache.
At least, that was what the wee angel on her shoulder was saying, so that’s what she was going with.
The very short chapter in her life was closed, and one day she’d be able to tell her grandchildren that she was once offered a swanky job in Hollywood. That would definitely put Grandad Solar Panels in second place in the cool grandparent rankings.
Now, a minute or two later, she exhaled, letting all the stress slide from her shoulders. It was time to go celebrate her mum.
Rising from the edge of the bed, she quickly pulled on her dress, put her heels in her handbag and her exceptionally un-sexy wellies on her feet, and in no time at all she was out of the door and walking to the café.
The pavements were still thick with snow, but the gritters and ploughs had been out on the road, so it took less than five minutes of trudging through slush, only stepping back onto the pavement when a couple of cars passed, to get to Main Street.
Even from across the road, she could see that the café looked beautiful – all twinkly lights in the windows, and lots of chatting, smiling people inside.
That sight of the crowd made her beam – her mum had been worried that no one would come out in this weather, but, of course, she’d been wrong.
Georgie knew that it would take a lot more than a snow storm to prevent most folks in this village from celebrating Jessie McLean.
She was halfway across the road, when she heard the unmistakable sound of her Aunt Loretta belting out ‘Mustang Sally’ and she allowed herself a little bubble of excitement. She loved a party and tonight was going to be such a respite from the stress of the last few days.
As Georgie stepped onto the pavement, she saw that Jessie was standing just inside the door. Okay, shoulders back, smile, best foot-in-a-wellie forward. She was going to go in there and be nothing but smiley and happy all night.
She pushed the door open and walked into the warm, sparkling, beautiful interior feeling nothing but positivity… until her mother rounded on her with a look that she hadn’t seen since she was fifteen and got caught sneaking out her window at midnight on a Saturday night to go meet her boyfriend.
‘Georgette Catherine McLean…’
Oh bollocks. Like every mother of her generation, Jessie used Georgie’s full moniker when she was seriously pissed off. And also, apparently, forgot that she was married and her surname had been Dern since 2006. What the hell had she done to deserve this? The answer was rapidly forthcoming.
‘When were you going to tell me that you’ve been offered a job on a TV set in America?’