Chapter 45
Tim
“Tim, can we have you first for your confessional?” Simon asked on the last day of filming, his face belligerent, as though he knew I was going to argue.
“Now? This is the final hour,” I protested.
We were all flying around the house, helping Tabs do last-minute moving in of furniture, making of beds, laying rugs, placing cushions, and putting her flowers from the garden in place.
Before that, we’d done a massive cleanup after I’d swept a crew of electricians, plumbers, tilers, carpenters, painters and plasterers out the door.
“Now.” Simon had a face like thunder and waved me into the library along with the two cameramen and three execs from London who’d just happened to pop in at the last minute, making this deadline even more intense.
I wondered briefly if he was extra annoyed with me because he somehow knew I’d consulted a lawyer about the social media clause in our contracts.
I was still working hard to find a way to get those mean comments about Tabitha erased from the TV show’s website and the comment section monitored going forward.
But no, his only focus seemed to be on getting to the end of today.
Tabs raced past me, and checking the cameras weren’t directly on us, I gave her a secret smile.
She’d taken this week off her newspaper job to work at the house, and I’d loved seeing her all the time, despite the intense pressure of tonight’s deadline.
In the end, we’d spent only one full night together at the Bumblebee B&B, where the walls proved way too thin for us to return.
And we’d been forced to grab quick moments in the library and in the truck parked by the river, feeling like naughty teenagers.
Things with Mum and Amy, however, hadn’t been as seamless.
Amy still hadn’t stopped by to talk, because she was called back to London for her stage audition.
And this afternoon, while Stacy had been doing the washing, Mum had tried to boil an egg and burned her hand pulling the pot off the burner.
By the time I rushed home, Stacy had already cleaned and patched up Mum’s hand, and we’d decided to turn off the appliances at the wall until they needed to be used.
My resolve to get the prize money to pay for Mum’s residential home had only doubled.
In the library, the blond female exec stepped forward and asked me some easy questions about how panicked I was, but also how excited I was to see the house finished.
“We’ve seen a lot of comments online about Tabitha,” she said. “Saying she’s dull and boring and dreary, a bit of a shrew, and that she doesn’t seem at all fun.” She widened her eyes. “What do you think?”
I flinched. Her question was swift and out of the blue with no warning. Tabitha and I had agreed on nothing personal, but it would look suspicious if I rushed to her defense.
“We’ve been at odds about a lot of things, but—”
“C’mon, Tim, what do you really think? You can tell me.” Now her tone was wheedling, smiley, wanting to be my mate. “Is she someone you’d normally work with?”
I knew this had to be a no. “Not…normally. But—”
“But what? What are you saying? You’re not friends now, are you?”
Every organ in my body was screaming.
The exec’s voice was demanding, her mouth set.
The other two execs stepped forward. She wasn’t going to relent, and I was sounding wishy-washy.
Yes, Tabs and I had agreed we’d say nothing personal, but we had to win.
I was doing this for the both of us. And it was clear from their folded arms that Tabitha would be subjected to these questions too.
“Are you telling me you two are friends?” the exec asked. The two execs behind her grimaced. I didn’t have any illusions about this. Admitting we were friends was the kiss of death for winning the prize money.
“Oh no. Not friends, of course not.” I scoffed.
“Yeah, you’re right. She can come off as dull and boring and not much fun.
Like you say, not someone I’d want to work with.
But sometimes you have to work with people you don’t want to hang out with.
” There, I’d said it. At least I hadn’t said she was a shrew.
I was just sort of agreeing with the exec, right?
Except shame instantly churned through me.
I shook my head in disgust at myself. “Please don’t use that. It’s not what I think at all.”
The three execs traded intense looks.
“We only wanted your opinion of the comments,” the one interviewing me said.
That wasn’t good enough. “I need your assurance my last comments are not going to be used.”
“You have my assurance,” she said, then indicated to the cameramen that was a wrap, and I was swiftly ushered out.
One step into the hallway, I almost bumped into Tabs, up next. I gave her an anxious smile, happy to be done with that and to have stuck to my principles with the execs.
When Tabs finished her interview, she joined me in the kitchen, and I caught her eyes, trying to judge how her interview went. She gave me an encouraging smile. Obviously, they hadn’t pushed her to say bad things about me.
“Tabs, they were trying to bait me about you,” I whispered. “Trying to stir things up between us. I might have said a few things I shouldn’t—but I told them they couldn’t use those answers, and they gave their assurance.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine if you said not to use it.”
Simon clapped his hands. “Right. A moment of you two doing the final look-around.”
“But we’ve got another hour,” I said. “It’s not seven yet.”
“Has to be done while execs are here.” Without another word, he waved in the cameras, and we toured the house, both of us pointing out all the changes and smiling. And despite being rushed on this job, we had so much to smile about.
Where the house had been a warren of small, run-down rooms, it was now open and fresh and full of whimsy and color and fun textiles.
“That’s a wrap,” Simon said, and within seconds, the crew turned to packing up. We hugged them goodbye with reminders that we’d see each other at the premiere in two weeks.
Tabs spun around in the empty kitchen. “Wow, a rush at the end, but I’m so happy with what we’ve done.” She stopped dead. “But quite honestly, we’ve probably got four more hours to really finish.”
“I’ll do the rest. Let’s get you to the train station,” I said.
In the end, I’d just pulled into the train car park when the loud clack of the tracks and a whistle told us that we had to run for it.
On the platform, the train screeched to a halt, and the doors opened with a puff.
“I can’t believe I won’t see you for a week.” I squeezed her in a hug and handed over her bag. “I love you, and I’ll miss you so much.”
“See you back here to watch the preview,” she said. “Can’t wait.”
The production company was sending us a half hour of highlights, and we’d arranged to view the preview with a group of friends at Tabitha’s parents’ house this Saturday. A week later, we’d both attend the premiere of the show in London.
After that, we could get on with our lives.
“I can’t wait either,” I said and gave her a swift kiss.
She jumped on to the train and sat down, waving as they pulled away.
I stood and watched, waving back, excited for the day she returned. So why did a creeping sense of unease crawl up my spine?
MAKEOVER YOUR MONEYMAKER, sneak peek.
Four design teams compete to turn a home into a business.
Team: Tim and Tabitha.
2,500 Comments:
CotwoldsOwn: SOMEONE needs to take that girl in hand! Ordering everyone around all day long!
TeamTimFTW342: Tim, mate, tell her where to get off. Who does she think she is, giving out instructions like that?
1Hardman: Put down your own rugs. That’s your job, love. Pull a finger for once.
DarkAleOrDie: Thank God that’s done. THAT BOSSY WOMAN. THAT VOICE. Right little madam, that one.
LaIslaBonita: And yet you will watch the entire show. Because you love to be a woman-hating twat.
GirlBossesDoItBetter: Tabs works with the team including Tim every step of the way, and the team love her. And she has a beautiful speaking voice, you prat. Get a freaking hobby and stop dragging women.
LlamasRLife: Llama watches the world and bides his time. Stardom awaits.
LlamasRulez: Llama is true Buddhist. No attachment, no craving. Lives fully in the moment.