Chapter 3
Three
The kitchen table had been stripped bare for the lighting rig, the good cups exiled to a cupboard in favour of pastel mugs that wouldn’t glare under the LEDs. Neil had even rearranged the fruit bowl, muttering about a ‘pop of colour’.
Callie sat at the table with her mic wire coiled uncomfortably under her top. But it was nothing compared to the discomfort of sitting in this kitchen for the first time in twelve years.
Eleven-year-old Hannah sat beside her, hair ironed flat by their mother. Opposite them, Brian kept smoothing his tidy beard while his wife, Callie’s mother, Christine, sat bolt straight, wearing the look of someone getting their passport photo taken.
The boom hovered overhead, waiting to soak up the dysfunction that was, frankly, inevitable.
‘Alright, team,’ Neil said, clapping lightly. ‘A few warm-ups. Just chat normally. Don’t look at the camera.’
‘Might as well tell me not to look at Bigfoot,’ Brian muttered.
Neil ignored him as the cameraman signalled. The red light of doom appeared.
‘So,’ Neil said brightly, ‘Callie, tell your family about your special someone on the show.’
‘Sam,’ Callie said flatly.
‘Sam, right,’ Neil smiled fondly, as though Sam was his very own child. ‘And how do we feel about that? Mum? Dad? Hannah?’
Brian coughed awkwardly, and Callie jumped in to save him the embarrassment of explaining. ‘Brian’s my mother’s second husband.’
‘The normal word for that is stepdad,’ her mother added.
Callie nodded. ‘Yeah. That.’
‘Mea culpa,’ Neil said, hand on heart. ‘So, what do we all think of Sam?’
Her mother’s smile tightened. ‘Well, we don’t really know him, do we? But he seems lovely. From the telly. The sort of person I’d definitely pick for my daughter.’
Callie met her mother’s gaze for half a second. Her mother looked away first.
‘But you must have opinions! It’s your daughter’s love life.’
‘They’re not pretending to object for drama,’ Callie said mildly.
‘No one’s pretending,’ Neil said too quickly. ‘We’re giving the audience emotional honesty. Bit of texture.’
‘You mean conflict?’ Callie asked.
He laughed too loudly. ‘Viewers respond to stakes. Every good story needs them.’
‘I thought it was all about genuine emotion?’ Callie asked, trying to keep her tone light.
Neil crouched beside her, dropping his voice. ‘I know this might feel a bit… but we need something to cut the sweetness. Otherwise, it’s fluff. We need a few… hard questions.’
Christine startled slightly. ‘What hard questions?’
‘How about how you feel about Callie maybe falling in love on national telly,’ Neil said smoothly. ‘The fear of losing her to the limelight, maybe?’
Christine’s jaw clicked. She glanced at Brian, smiling for him. He seemed oblivious.
‘You make it sound like she lives here,’ little Hannah said.
Callie looked directly into the camera. ‘Cut.’
The cameraman stopped the red light automatically at the word before Neil gave him a look. Then he turned to Callie. ‘Honey, you don’t say that. I say that.’
‘Sorry,’ Callie said. ‘But I just don’t want you giving them instructions like this. I’m the one who agreed to be part of the story. These three are doing us a favour. The least we can do is let them be themselves.’
‘Fine,’ he said, smile fixed. ‘Let’s just do a take. Maybe it’ll happen naturally.’
‘It won’t.’
‘We’ll see.’ He signalled.
The red light blinked on.
Christine cleared her throat. ‘So… Sam,’ she said awkwardly. ‘You like him, then?’
‘He’s nice,’ Callie said.
‘You don’t sound sure,’ Brian said.
Callie let out a soft laugh. ‘Don’t you start.’
Brian laughed. ‘Guess I’m a natural drama queen.’
Callie felt in that moment oddly fond of the man she’d barely met before today.
‘Brian,’ Christine said sharply. Heaven forbid Callie get to know the man.
‘What?’ he said, confused.
‘Don’t… We like Sam.’
‘We do?’ Brian asked.
‘Yes. We want them to end up together.’
It wasn’t hard for Callie to translate that.
We want Callie to win and get that payment that winners get that they have to share with their broke-ass mothers.
Callie wondered if Brian had been properly briefed on that. Or if he knew about the regular payments from Callie at all.
Callie had never known how much Brian knew about the reality of her mother. But it wasn’t for Callie to say. She wasn’t part of any of this.
The boom dipped lower.
‘Can we stop now?’ she said.
‘One more minute,’ Neil murmured.
Callie gave him a pleasant, lethal little smile. ‘You’ve had enough drama for one morning.’
‘Callie—’
‘Cut,’ she said, standing up.
He looked at Callie like he might want to tell her off. But he just said, ‘Fine. Cut.’ The red light died.
The room exhaled. Brian rubbed his beard. ‘That was awful. Sorry if I flubbed it somehow,’ he said with a quick glance to his wife.
‘You did fine,’ Callie said.
Neil leaned in, all soft urgency. ‘This was great. But it might need a little punch-up? Maybe it’s a bit… tight in here. Hard to forget that cameras are present. Maybe we could do a second location, somewhere you can all relax a bit.’
Fuck. Callie really hoped this particular mini-hell was over. She should have known better. ‘OK. Fine.’ Then her brain kicked in. ‘Wait. What second location? The pub?’
Neil nodded. ‘I liked that location.’
Callie, stupidly, thought the statement ended there.
‘But it was a tad dark and small,’ Neil went on. ‘I was thinking of that bakery.’
Callie froze. ‘The bakery?’
‘It’ll look great. Proper local heart.’
‘Neil,’ Callie began, intending to explain. Well, not explain, but make up some reason he couldn’t drag her in there.
But Neil was already smiling as if she’d agreed. ‘Brilliant. I’ll get it scheduled.’