Chapter 41
Tim
After the game, I milled around the field, intending to leave at the last moment, avoiding Amy standing waiting at the fence.
But Tabitha was right next to her, and the sight of her punched at my heart.
Every part of my body wanted to be near her—and preferably wrapped around her.
I wanted to get this filming over and share my worries with her.
Normally, I couldn’t wait to get back to the changing room, deliver the captain’s talk to the team, then give each other shit and rehash the plays, before heading upstairs to the bar.
All I could think about was how much worse Mum’s incident could have been.
On the field, I’d finally shaken every hand and talked to what seemed to be every member of the opposing team and answered every question from local reporters. I was the last on the field, and I couldn’t delay any longer. I had to face Amy. Then, finally, have alone time with Tabitha.
Every time I’d stopped to call Tabs today, another employee had interrupted me with endless work problems, not to mention the calls in between to the care home where Mum would eventually be moving.
Then it was time to check on Mum at her flat and get ready for the rugby game, and all I needed was Tabitha now.
Seeing her was the only light in my miserable day, and of course, I showed off to her all eighty minutes, knowing I’d get in trouble with the coach for that.
I could feel my face tighten with wariness as I ran toward Amy and Tabs, and the cameras zoomed in on the three of us.
I should have been physically drained from one hour of sleep, a day of work, and eighty minutes of a hard game.
Instead, I was nervous, cagey, and wary, and I knew I wasn’t disguising my unease well.
“Good game, big brother.” Amy slapped me on the back. “Ooh, sweaty. And I better go—need to have a beer waiting for Fitzy. See you up at the bar. You too, Tabs?”
Strangely blank-faced, Tabitha shook her head. “I’m headed straight home as it’s been a long day.”
Oh, Tabitha. She looked tired and maybe missing me as much as I was missing her. Soon.
“I’m going to take a rain check too,” I told Amy. “I’m heading home to check on Mum.”
“I wish I could come too, but Fitzy and I have a team do. We have a room at that hotel and there’s a mirror and—”
“Agh, don’t need to hear any more about that,” I said, trying to keep it light. “Listen, have a great night, and we’ll see you in the morning.” I could tell her about Mum in peace and quiet, on Mum’s patio but out of her earshot.
After Amy disappeared up the stairs to the bar, Tabs visibly fortified her face. She was probably dreading yet more filming. She must be tired after our long night and working all day and the train ride up. I wanted to take her in my arms and hug her and kiss her.
The crew stepped up to us, and the cameras blinked red. Tabs and I turned to each other. My hands itched to feel her skin, her face, her hair, and bury my face in her silken neck.
“Hi, Tim. Good game,” Tabs said politely. She glanced at me and swiftly looked away as though she’d been burned. “Congratulations.”
The cameras were right up our noses, but still, I reached out to touch her hand. She stepped back slightly, a definite reserve from her.
Confused, I replied awkwardly, “Thank you.”
Silence.
Her eyes flicked up to me and away. “A lot of reporters wanted to interview you,” she finally said. But her tone was still flat.
“Yes. They’re interested in the show and my performance on the field.”
“Amy explained the rules to me.” Her voice remained stilted.
“Oh, that’s good.” I smiled, trying to pull some sort of emotion from her. Why was she so distant? Was she okay? “What did you learn about the game?”
“Just the rules…”
Wait. Was she hiding that Amy knew about Mum? “Did Amy say anything else?”
Tabs looked puzzled. “Amy? No.”
Behind the cameras, Simon was furiously making raising-the-roof motions with his hands, leaving us in no doubt we had to rev it up. Internally, I groaned. I just wanted to sort out what was wrong with Tabs. I didn’t have the energy or patience to engage in a more dramatic exchange.
“Well, congrats again. I suppose I’ll see you at the house tomorrow,” she said, already turning to the exit. “Have a good evening.”
What? She was leaving? What was going on here?
“Cut!” Simon yelled. “Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut!”
Using the element of surprise, I cupped Tabs’s elbow and led her swiftly away from the cameras.
“I just need to go home and shower and change,” I said. “Could you come to my mother’s flat?”
Her head flung back in surprise. “Your mother’s flat?”
“Yes, shall we say in a half hour? I need to tell you why I left this morning.” Hopefully Mum would be asleep, so I could explain everything to Tabs in private.
She narrowed her eyes at me, then gave a stiff nod. “Yes, okay.”
I was glad she agreed, but something was very, very wrong. This was what Tabitha reverted to when she was shutting down. Politeness.
“You two. Over here!” Simon yelled over at us. “Now!”
My head shot in his direction. What now? I desperately needed to get Tabitha out of here and find out what was wrong. He called again, and Tabitha and I reluctantly walked over.
“Nope. Not happening,” he said. “It’s all gone pear-shaped. You are being—Lord help us—courteous. Boring! What happened?”
I did a double take. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean—”
“Don’t want to hear it,” Simon cut in. “I got you two because you loathed each other. And now you are—” he pointed to Tabs, then me “—being polite to each other. Which is not good TV. At the minimum, I need your usual sniping. Seething is better. Out-and-out fury is best. Chemistry—the hating kind. She says something, you argue, she argues back. Get the picture?”
I stood there stunned and nauseous. I’d known he’d taken on Tabs because we had a lot of antagonism, but I supposed I’d fooled myself it was fine that we were getting on better. I didn’t like that we were now playing it for the cameras, but I needed this money for Mum.
Like everything else in my life, this production was starting to unravel.
Tabs shuffled from foot to foot beside me, seeming miserable. I wasn’t sure if it was because of whatever had happened to her today or Simon’s dictates.
“This doesn’t just affect the two of you.
The rest of the production company will suffer because this will Not.
Be. A. Hit.” He slammed his hands onto his hips.
“And I’ll tell you right now, you will not win the prize money.
Spoiler alert—it doesn’t go to the best design.
It goes to the team with the best viewership numbers.
” He smiled and waggled his head. “Congrats. Thank you very much. I don’t care.
My grandmother doesn’t care. The bloody llamas don’t care. We want to witness the struggle!”
More drama equaled more chance of winning. I was exhausted just thinking about having to have pretend scraps with Tabitha.
Simon wandered aimlessly in a circle, shaking his head.
“How the feck did I get here?” he monologued.
“I got top marks for my shorts at film school. The Manchester Scorsese, one critic said. My classmates voted me most likely to succeed. Now here I am, fifty years old, a never-was. I must have been a total wanker in my last life to be directing this thing.”
Simon had no power on this show, he’d told me that, but it was totally obvious now. Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’d still hoped he would help me in trying to edit out that awful, negative slant on Tabitha, but it wasn’t going to happen.
“Don’t fool yourself, Simon,” Freya said dryly.
“You’re a total wanker in this life too.
That ‘award-winning short’ you made when you were twenty-one was a brutally self-conscious, overwrought depiction of a young lad who couldn’t pull the trigger when it came to the girl sitting in a lecture hall next to him. ”
Normally, I would have been entertained and intrigued by this little demonstration of how well she and Simon knew each other, but I was consumed by the fact that we might not win. Fuck. Would these last few weeks mean nothing at all?