Chapter 15 #2
Louisa clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and the cast broke into their groups to practise the lines. Harriet slipped in through the side door, giving him a cheerful wave, but there was no sign of Clem or Indi yet.
Spencer took one more look around before heading backstage. Louisa’s exercises to get people into character were just audible from the props room, and when the sessions were in full swing, nobody would come looking for him.
Once he was set up, he doubled back to the hall kitchen to wash the brushes out.
‘I took a punt you’d be back here.’ Mia stood in the doorway with her baby strapped to her chest and Reggie by her side. ‘Is it lonely back there in the props room, just you, the set you’re working on and the odd spider or two?’
He laughed, drying the brushes. Reggie tore up and down the hallway.
Mia’s longing tone made it sound like an all-expenses-paid day spa.
‘I manage. How’s the little champ? Glad to see he looks more like you than Jeff.
It would take a while for any kid to grow into an Angelino nose.
’ The baby was soft and squishy still, his features defined by dark hair and even darker eyelashes.
If Spencer was being honest, Fred didn’t look much like Mia or Jeff, but she seemed pleased with the compliment.
‘He’s driving me up the wall, but that’s what they do. Next time I decide to have a baby at the start of the cray season, remind me I’ll be doing it mostly solo until they’ve caught their quota and the fishing season’s done.’
She set down a notebook and pencil, and he saw the page was filled with costume ideas for each character. He looked back at Reggie and Fred, feeling bad for the extra load on Mia’s already-full schedule.
‘You know you don’t need to take on the Penwarra Players costumes every year. We’d understand if you asked us to find a replacement.’
She gave him a sharp look. ‘What, and let old prissy-pants Odette charge you a fortune for some poorly stitched, overpriced garb? Not on my watch, buster. I might get a helper later.’
She softened then, running a tender hand down Fred’s lanky legs. ‘I’m only doing a bit here and there at the moment, getting ideas and rough sizes of cast members. Hey, Indi’s meant to be coming to ours for a play with Reggie during rehearsals. Have you seen Clem?’
It was an effort to keep his expression blank. He’d seen her alright. In the shower, under the stars, snuggled up and using his arm as a pillow, and as she tiptoed ahead of him through her farmhouse late last night and led him to her bedroom.
Yep, he’d seen Clem Crossley, and boy was she a sight to behold.
Clem cast another look at the hall, then down at the old clothes she’d donned to help with props.
She’d found the paint-speckled overalls at the back of Nanna Shirley’s craft cupboards, clearly a relic of her artistic era.
The old polo shirt was her own. Splattered with evidence of her poor painting skills, it featured splodges of grey from the main bedroom and purple from Harri and Indi’s feature walls.
She wasn’t off to a good start, rocking up late, and now she was on the phone in the hall car park when she’d promised to lend a hand.
But it sounded like Hazel had had a rough day, and after cutting her off yesterday to work on the catering quote and prep for Spencer’s visit, she felt guilty for putting her best friend last.
‘Cheer me up, Clemmy. Tell me something that’ll stop this day from being a complete-write off.
I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything,’ Hazel said.
‘Is it one of the guys from Mia’s maternity ward?
The fireman was a hottie, I can imagine him bringing the heat in the bedroom too. Those tattoos, mmm mmm.’
Clem adjusted the overall straps guiltily.
‘I told you I wasn’t going to call any of those guys, and now that you’ve said tattoos, that’s a double no.’
‘Is it that mean daddy from Harriet’s class? The doctor with the perpetual scowl but the super sweet little boy? He can’t be a total monster if he’s got a nice kid, right? Maybe he has a squint, or a lazy eye.’
‘Anyone who leaves his trolley in the middle of the supermarket car park is a firm “no” in my books. I’ve seen him do it twice now.’
Keeping secrets wasn’t in her nature, and not only was she bursting to tell Hazel about Spencer, but she sensed her friend would recognise the new relationship glow when they next caught up.
And what kind of friend wouldn’t attempt to cheer their bestie up after a rough day?
‘If I tell you this, you have to swear to secrecy, okay? You can’t breathe a word to anyone.’
She held the phone away from her ear as Hazel yelled ‘hell yes’ down the line, then took a deep breath and told her friend everything.
‘I like him,’ Clem told Hazel, pacing the empty car park, where she could talk without being overheard by Indi, who was waiting in the car. ‘And he really likes me.’
Their first night together had been better than she’d allowed herself to hope.
Spencer had quickly showed himself to be a gentle, passionate lover, mapping her body with his fingers, then his mouth, and checking what she liked and what she was comfortable with until she ached with need and longing.
He’d taken her tumbling over the edge of pleasure, letting her explore his body until he was sated too.
The memory of their lovemaking made her tingle each time she thought of it.
Funnily enough, the dust and cobwebs hadn’t even warranted a mention. Clem caught sight of her reflection in a freshly polished car. Grinning and dopey, just as she’d been when she’d softly closed the door behind him last night, and when she’d hung her sheets on the clothesline that morning.
‘Oh lovely, you need to watch the TV show,’ Hazel said.
‘It looks like he was firmly in camp Emily a month or so ago. He looked really into her on the teaser for next week’s episodes.
I don’t want you getting hurt, especially if they roast him in the second half of the season.
You’ve got a business to think about too.
Issy is a whiz and your social media is much better since you put her in charge, but this idea of putting Spencer front and centre of your brand …
‘He’s being plastered over every local media outlet within cooee. You know they’re scratching for news. If he makes an arse of himself, it will be like catnip to those poor journos worrying about being replaced by AI and Facebook.’
‘You said it yourself, Hazel: not everyone watches reality TV, and everyone who does accepts that it’s a warped version of reality,’ Clem said, trying to keep the defensive edge from her tone.
‘True,’ Hazel conceded. ‘I just hope he’s being honest with you, that’s all. Things are going to get awkward at the pointy end of the show.’
‘I was on the set, remember? In real life you could have driven a truck between the pair of them the whole time I was there.’
‘Tread carefully, Clemmy. Don’t give him your whole heart on a platter only to find out he’s a player.’
She doesn’t know him like I do, Clem thought, finishing up the phone call.
She found Mia and Spencer in the foyer, heading for the exit.
‘There you are,’ Mia said, pulling her into a hug. ‘Reggie’s looking forward to having you for dinner, Indi. You ready to head to our place?’
Indi nodded, giving Mia the pastries Clem had packed for dessert. ‘Yummo, these are my favourite,’ Mia said. She paused and frowned then, giving Spencer a gentle thump on the arm.
‘I hope you didn’t bring any for this tight-lipped guy.
I was just telling him how unfair it is that we have to wait like every other bugger to find out the Love on the Land goss.
Nondisclosure agreements suck. I could be setting him up with any manner of gorgeous ladies if I knew for sure he was single, but nope, not after this injustice. ’
She winked at Clem, her lips twitching as she fixed Spencer with another dirty look then ushered Indi and Reggie out the door.
‘You haven’t told Mia and Jeff what happened with Emily?’ Clem’s words felt strangled and she felt a flush rise up her neck. He’d toed the party line, even under Mia’s harsh interrogation, while she’d blurted it out to Hazel, not twenty metres from where they were standing.
This is not good.
She tried to think of a way to remedy the situation, but thoughts of damage control flew from her mind as they arrived at the props room.
He’d spread a tablecloth across the workbench, shifted the old props and paints to make way for picnic fare.
‘Jeff, yes, but not Mia. But I’d rather not talk about them right now, not when we’ve got a moment together. What do you say to a little prop painting, then a little picnic?’
Clem grinned, feeling shy all of a sudden. ‘This looks divine, but I must admit, I’m looking forward to a little alone time with you. Last night was amazing.’
He returned her smile. ‘Don’t remind me. Now, these are the first cupcakes I’ve baked in years,’ Spencer said. ‘So no promises about the quality, but if they’re dry and crumbly I’ve got juice and fruit salad too.’
Clem sat her handbag down, marvelling at the scene. She took one more look at the heavy stage curtains and partition dividers that hid them from the rehearsals and auditions next door, then closed the gap between them.
Sliding her fingers into his back pockets, she tugged him closer.
For a guy with such broad shoulders, he was surprisingly easy to pull towards her, and when he was millimetres away, she pressed her smiling lips against his.
He was kind, thoughtful, with manners as rare as her grandfather’s contemporaries.
Had anyone ever made her such a romantic picnic, even if it was in the back end of a theatre hall?
‘This is a nice surprise,’ she said. ‘Did they teach you this dark magic on the TV set?’
His laugh rumbled against her, low and deep with amusement, and it felt as good against her lips as it did her torso. ‘Would you believe me if I said it was all my own idea?’
She kissed him again. ‘I’m in danger of believing anything’s possible when I’m with you, Spencer Hawkins.’
Instead of dashing past in a race to the door, three of his literature students dawdled by their desks when the bell rang at Wednesday lunchtime.
‘Am I dreaming to think you’ve been suddenly captivated by the classics, ladies?’ he asked, pulling his phone from his desk drawer and sliding it into his pocket.
‘Just checking our socials before we head to the canteen.’
He spotted their phones in hand. While mobiles were officially banned in South Australian schools, and he happily confiscated devices during lessons, he let it slide in break times.
‘And you can’t do that while you’re eating your lunch?
’ It was what the majority of the students seemed to be doing these days, heads hunched over their phones while they shovelled God-knows-what into their hungry mouths.
He wasn’t sure who had approved the canteen menu at Penwarra Area School, but he’d wager Clem’s catering would be a tenfold improvement.
Maybe they’d at least look at the food every bite or two if it was more wholesome and flavourful.
He was looking forward to the roast veggie wrap he’d bought at Sunny Cross on his way to work this morning.
‘Check it out, Mr H. There’s a thread about you and the other farmers going wild,’ one of the girls called.
Spencer paused. Was this just another tactic to get his attention?
‘Someone’s put together a montage of the clips and dubbed a bunch of voices over it. It’s funny.’ She clocked his wary look. ‘Well, maybe not funny for you, but for everyone else. Um, kinda.’
If I go over and watch it, I’ll be adding more fuel to the fire. Spencer told himself to ignore it. It couldn’t be much worse than a stupid meme, or the YouTube caricature a student uploaded of him the year before.
But as Spencer frowned, weighing up his options, he realised he didn’t have the app the girls were talking about, and even if he downloaded it, he might not be able to find the clip in question.
‘I should be confiscating this phone, but go on then,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘I need a laugh today.’
He watched, amused. It was easy to score a few cheap laughs by adding fake commentary for the farmers. It was the episode when all the blokes were standing in a room full of potential wives at the very start of the filming, before they chose their favourite five to take back to their farms.
But then the voiceover turned nasty.
‘Yeah, matey, she looks like she could iron my shirts and boil my jocks the way Mum used to. Won’t catch me wearing a skirt around here doing women’s work.’
Spencer rolled his eyes. ‘This moron isn’t worth listening to.’ None of the farmers were like that. He went to walk away, but the oldest student, who happened to be next year’s incoming school captain, paused the clip and put a hand on his elbow.
‘It’s supposed to be funny … We deal with that crap all the time, Mr H, ignore it. Keep watching.’
He hated that the chauvinistic comments seemed like old news to them. ‘Go on.’
The camera panned to the youngest farmer, Jonah from Rockhampton.
The wannabe comedian put on a squeaky voice. ‘How about that hottie with the Akubra, I’d like to see her hog-tie a weaner and then turn the ropes on me. Love me a bit of bondage. Haha!’
The teenagers glanced up at him with an apologetic wince. ‘This is your bit.’
The shot moved to him, hands clasped behind his back as the show host introduced him to the ten ladies in his shortlist. After a high-pitched mockery of the host’s voice, the creative commentator, a teenage boy, from the sounds of it, made an attempt at Spencer’s deep voice.
‘Yep, I sure like ’em blonde and dumb. The blonder the better, least then they won’t realise I’m not even a farmer, just a grumpy old teacher.
Roll up, roll up ladies, come on down to the arse-end of South Australia. ’
The producers had made it clear they were going to gloss over his full-time job and feature South Giddi Giddi more often than the schoolyard, so the comments weren’t a surprise, but he felt peeved on behalf of his contestants.
His mind went straight to Clem, and her beautiful brown wavy hair, then Belle, with her darker locks. His attempt to veer away from dark hair looked glaringly obvious in retrospect.
It was less than a fortnight since camp, just days since their bodies had been entwined, yet somehow he couldn’t help fearing that the TV show, and all the memes and dubbed videos, posed a real threat to him and Clem.