Chapter Eight
Eight
‘Okay! Let’s get the family in nice and tight, yeah?’ Neil clapped.
Christine obeyed instantly, practically jumping into her husband’s lap and yanking her daughter close.
‘No, I meant the shot, Christine,’ Neil broke it to her.
Christine released everyone.
Callie rolled her eyes. Her ‘family’ had been here an hour, and they were going in bloody circles.
Every conversation so far had gone nowhere because, essentially, these people were strangers to her.
The history she had with Brian and Hannah barely extended beyond the occasional and very brief lunch, the occasional time her mother had dragged them to London for some Christmas market or whatever.
And Callie’s history with her mother was so loaded that casual chat felt nearly impossible.
Callie wished George, her brother, were here. But he’d said no, and Callie didn’t blame him. This wasn’t his scene at all. George preferred the predictable: the coding job he’d been doing for ten years and the girlfriend he’d had for eight. This madness? No way.
He was happy to see Callie in London, and he often visited from Manchester, where he’d settled. He knew what her life was and stood aside for selfie hounds. So maybe it wasn’t just about cameras.
But where George was shy and sweet, Hannah was lapping up all the chaos and attention she could get.
‘Hey, Callie… did you choose this bakery…’ Hannah began loudly. Callie noted the boom mic swing to her. ‘…Because you used to be friends with the woman who works here?’
Hannah’s information went back longer than it should have. Christine had clearly been opening her yap.
‘No. I didn’t,’ Callie said quickly and quietly.
‘Are you not friends with her now?’ Hannah asked, trying to sound innocent. Callie wasn’t convinced.
‘I haven’t kept up with my old friends, no.’
‘Because Mum said—’
‘Shush!’ Christine said quickly.
‘Can we let her talk, Christine?’ Neil asked her.
Christine nodded reluctantly.
Callie’s smile didn’t falter, but her stomach clenched. ‘Maybe leave that alone,’ she said quietly, a warning only Hannah would catch.
‘Leave what alone?’ Hannah asked, eyes shining. ‘Isn’t this a romance show you’re on? So, it’s meant to be all about love and stuff. And Mum said that you and—’
‘Don’t!’ Callie said sharply.
Hannah stopped. Everyone stopped, actually.
Callie took a measured breath and delivered the light, polished laugh she’d perfected over the years. ‘I’m not interested in the past. My future is Sam.’
Hannah sighed. ‘Whatever.’
Callie looked to Neil. ‘We done in here yet?’
Neil smiled. ‘Almost. Maybe let the little girl talk, though?’
‘I’m eleven,’ Hannah said irritably.
Neil laughed ingratiatingly. ‘Of course.’
Callie was barely listening. Her gaze had drifted toward the door to the back room. Still closed.
She shouldn’t have expected anything else. Mae had always known when to disappear.
Neil’s voice came again, bright and brittle: ‘All right, are we ready for another go? Reset on the lighting. We’ll do that again from the start. With no interruptions,’ he warned.
One of the crew ducked under a heavy rig near the counter. Another stepped over a loop of cable. Well, tried to.
‘Watch that lead—’ someone started to say. Too late.
A foot had caught a light stand, and someone shouted, ‘Careful! Careful!’ as it toppled in slow motion, soundless for a moment before the crash came, metal against tile, glass shattering, sparks spraying like confetti.
People screamed. Hannah leapt out of her seat.
The fallen light flickered once and went out. Then a small flame caught on a nearby cardboard box that held extension cords.
And then the back door burst open.
Mae appeared, red-faced, lugging a fire extinguisher. She crossed the room in three strides, yanked the pin, and doused the baby flames in white foam.
The whole thing lasted seconds. Then there was just silence and the smell of chemicals.
Callie watched as Mae straightened slowly, the extinguisher still in her hands, panting slightly.
Their eyes met across the fine white spray still hanging in the air.
Everything else—the crew, the cameras, Neil’s open mouth—vanished.
For the first time in a dozen years, Callie Price and Mae Morgan were in the same room, looking right at each other.