Chapter 12 #2
“They’re filming a birth scene. Sarah, I don’t think you’ve met her, was meant to be the nurse, but she’s come down with a stomach bug.
A nasty one by the sounds of it. They’ll pull you in as a side character.
It doesn’t really matter who the nurse is.
It’s not a major role. Just need someone there and it can’t be any of the main characters. ”
“Don’t you have extras for this sort of thing?”
Frankie rolled his eyes. “No, sweet girl, that’s not how it works. Anyway, most of them booked for today are pregnant or old men. You’re here on set already. We need a nurse and voilā. Problem solved.”
She held her breath while Frankie surrounded her in a haze of hairspray.
When the air cleared, she examined her reflection in the mirror.
As the style she wore every day to work, the no-nonsense ponytail comforted her nerves.
How hard could it be to pretend to do what she does all the time? Surely, easier than an actual birth?
Frankie smoothed a layer of foundation above her brow and down her nose, winking mischievously at her. “And handsome Nate will be right there next to you.”
NATE READ OVER THE NOTES FOR HIS NEXT SCENE, a breech birth, but his mind was elsewhere.
When Sarah called in sick, he’d blurted out to Laney that Jess might fill in, but he hadn’t thought it through well.
Did he really want to spend the day working with Jess?
The conversation they’d had after the cafe didn’t seem as sensible as it had at the time.
Why did he tell her about Samantha? He didn’t go into the details of their breakup, or mention the resemblance between the two women.
He definitely didn’t explain that whenever Jess was nearby it stirred up unwelcome thoughts of his ex, or that he couldn’t help feeling familiar with her.
His head knew she wasn’t Samantha, but his body hadn’t received the memo.
Is that why he’d opened up? Because it felt like being around Samantha? Even in his anger, he knew part of him missed their closeness.
Before he’d caught Samantha having an affair, they’d talked about everything. Or at least he’d believed they did. Apparently, not everything.
That had been something he’d loved about her.
She’d made him open up. When they’d met, he hadn’t exactly been an open book.
Too much work, not enough play. That hadn’t changed much, but at least he’d been trying.
He’d kept up his close friendships from med school, going out for a beer with his mates once a month, when his busy work schedule allowed.
But thinking about it now, he’d cancelled on them several times, too. Socialising never ranked high in importance to him. He’d assumed his friendships were deep enough to withstand long absences; that loyalty counted for something. Clearly, not everyone agreed.
The words on the page in front of him blurred out of focus. His heart ached with the loss. Was any part of his life salvageable? Was anything left? He had his family; they’d always be there, and he was grateful for that.
Nate looked up from his script, distracted by a group of cameramen talking and laughing loudly across the room.
Maybe he hadn’t been as open and connected with his friends as he’d imagined.
Maybe that’s why his friend cheated with Samantha.
Had he shut people out? Was he here in New Zealand, shutting his family and friends out again?
This was why working with Jess was a ridiculous idea. He’d attempted to be cordial, but it was impossible to concentrate with all these thoughts and memories banging around in his head.
She entered the room, and Nate lost his breath.
With a tightly belted nurse’s costume and her hair swept back off her face, she was even more stunning than usual. Even if this was a bad idea, it was too late now.
“You signed me up for this?” Jess said, adjusting her belt and giving him a look he couldn’t interpret. She had her typical annoyed face on, but something else danced in her eyes.
“Sorry, I might have. Yes.”
“That means you owe me. I’d say one cottage would clear the debt.”
Nate opened his mouth to protest, but Laney interrupted.
“Did you get a chance to look over your lines, Jess?”
The entire room turned, and a clear flash of anxiety passed over Jess’s face. There weren’t many lines for her in this scene, but she hadn’t had much warning either. For the second time that week, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
“Frankie ran them with me,” she replied, looking uncertain.
“Great. You’ll be great.” Laney turned toward the cameras, and the room became a blur of action as people got in position. “Stand here, and ready?”
A chorus of ‘readys’ and then silence as she counted down.
Even after hours of practice, Nate still felt nervous when the cameras rolled. He couldn’t imagine how Jess must be feeling. He opened a door and entered the fake hospital ward, Jess following behind.
“Mrs. Rutherglen?” he said, checking his clipboard and avoiding eye contact with the very pregnant-looking woman on the bed.
The pregnant woman delivered her line and groaned.
He nodded dismissively, still avoiding eye contact. His character was such a jerk. Quickly readjusting himself back into the role, he squared his shoulders and allowed the cold arrogance to creep into his eyes. “I’m just going to check the baby’s position, Mrs. Rutherglen.”
Jess helped the mother rest onto her back, adjusting the sheet over the woman’s knees, while Nate pretended to check. The mother cried out—the cue for him to increase the tension in the scene, his character suddenly realising it would be a difficult delivery.
“Nurse Hall, the baby is breech. Bring me the twilight sleep. She’s not going to want to remember this.”
“Yes, doctor uh…wait. What was your…I’m so sorry.” Jess broke character and frowned at Nate apologetically.
“Cut!” called Laney. “All good. Let’s take a minute.”
They took a break, allowing Jess to go over her lines before resetting the scene.
“She’s not going to want to remember this,” Nate said, holding his breath and trying, telepathically, to send Jess her line.
She stared at him, panic on her face. Without saying her line, she turned and exited the fake hospital ward.
“All good. Let’s reset,” called Laney.
The scene started again. And again.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Jess said so quietly only he could hear it in the busy room. As much as he found it distracting working beside her, he also didn’t want her to fail. He remembered her in the real delivery room, confident and calm, and an idea formed in his mind.
Laney walked over, checking her clipboard, her voice full of fake perkiness. “It’s all good, Jess. You’re doing fine. Just fine.”
“What if we try something different?” Nate suggested. “Go off script a little?”
“Interesting…” Laney tipped her head as if to ask if he was sure. Then she nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. He could tell she was going to go for it. “Okay, I’m willing to see where this goes,” she said.
He leaned into Jess and whispered sternly, “Just help me deliver the baby, Nurse Hall. Do your blimmin’ job.”
Her eyes flashed with a familiar fury, but then her face shifted. She’d understood the situation. He was letting her slip into character: the competent nurse ensuring the arrogant doctor doesn’t harm this mother and child.
“Of course, Doctor Raynard,” she said, a subtle bite in her voice.
Perfect. He smiled at her, and they took their starting places.
Cameras rolled and they ran the scene again, this time improvising their lines.
Nate slipped easily into work mode, although channelling a more conceited and overbearing version of himself, and beside him, Jess cared for the mother and baby as if it were a real birth, her knowledge of midwifery shining through. Nate couldn’t help feeling impressed.
JESS BUZZED WITH ADRENALINE BY THE TIME the scene ended.
She didn’t think she’d want to do this acting thing every day—remembering lines once cameras were in your face was so much harder than she’d expected—but with Nate beside her, prompting her through the scene, it had actually felt like a real birth.
Like she’d been transported to the 50s and really was a young postwar nurse.
Everything from the way the ward was set up, Nate’s domineering, firm demeanour, the woman’s short pinned up hairstyle; it all added up to the feeling of having slipped back in time. She hoped Laney was feeling as pleased as she was with how it all went.
Nate passed her a bottle of sparkling water and she took it, grateful both for his help and for the water.
Acting was hot work. Her uniform stuck under her arms, and a line of perspiration shone above Nate’s brow.
She understood firsthand now why Frankie was always fussing over the actors with powder-filled brushes.
“Break for lunch!” Laney called over the hum of the room, and cast and crew lazily merged towards the lunchroom.
Nate touched her arm as she turned to follow, sending a light tingle across her skin.
“Want to go sort out accommodation first?”
With the excitement of the morning, Jess had completely forgotten about the cottage. Her annoyance had been forgotten, too, much to her surprise. She still wanted Nate out—that hadn’t changed—but she was riding an acting high, which was surprisingly similar to the one she got after a delivery.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.”
She let him lead her to Tom’s desk, near the foyer.
Tom’s mood hadn’t improved since her previous encounter with him. He scowled at them.
“You know it’s summer,” he said, as if it was more than enough of an explanation to understand the entirety of the problem.
“Yes, we’re aware it’s summer,” Nate said carefully. “But there are two of us and one bedroom.”
Tom placed his hands firmly on the desk and spoke in a slow, condescending tone. “Finding accommodation for an entire film crew this time of year in a rural village is virtually impossible, and it says in my book the cottage is fit for two. Are you telling me my information is wrong?”
Stared down by Tom, the excitement of her day drained away. Jess placed her hands on her hips and took a breath, ready to defend their situation, but Nate got there first.
“There is a double bed,” he explained. “Which would be fine if we were a couple. But we’re not.”
“Surely you can’t expect strangers to share a bed?” she said, remembering with a hot flush to her cheeks that they had, in fact, already shared the bed.
Tom eyed her up and, apparently deciding she wasn’t worth arguing with, opened his folder, flicking through the pages.
“Ah, I see,” he said finally. “There’s a double bed and a pull-out couch.” He mumbled something incoherent about short-notice and impossible tasks. “I’ll see what else I can find, but I’m sure you’ll cope for a few more nights.”
They exchanged glances. A pull-out couch?
“I guess that will be fine,” Jess said, dropping her hands by her sides.
The cottage, with its cosy bedroom and peaceful surroundings, had started to mean more to her than she’d expected.
It’d become the symbol of everything she wanted her new life to be: peaceful, orderly, comforting.
She’d rather have it all to herself, but she could be reasonable about it.
“I can take the couch,” Nate said, interrupting her thoughts. Jess released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.