Chapter 13
GRETA ARRANGED THE flowers throughout the flat.
Dahlias brightened her sitting room, chrysanthemums filled the dining room, and she placed a single yellow rose in a small vase on Lottie’s bedside table.
She even found an old gold-framed mirror she’d forgotten she owned, tucked away in a cupboard, and she hung it on the living room wall.
The little touches made her space feel cheerier and more welcoming.
The flat might not have the refined elegance of Millie’s home, but for the first time, it felt like somewhere Greta could be proud of.
When her doorbell rang, she wondered if Lottie might have forgotten her gym kit and keys. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d returned home, huffing and puffing, to grab something she’d left behind.
Instead, when Greta opened the door, a huge bunch of sunflowers filled the space.
Her thoughts instantly whisked her back to Mapleville, where Jim had offered her the flowers before fading away. After taking him to a derelict hovel for coffee and their tense parting of ways at the garden centre, she’d hoped he would call.
‘Jim . . . ?’ she said.
But purple-rimmed spectacles peeked through the petals instead.
‘Nora?’ Greta’s stomach dropped, her surprise mixed with disappointment. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Yoo-hoo, darling,’ her agent chirped, wearing a wide smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wore a mustard coat that looked like a cape, and a dramatic black-and-white fake fur scarf draped around her neck.
‘Thought you could do with a bit of sunshine in your life, so . . . voilà.’ Nora thrust the flowers forward. ‘These are for you.’
Greta’s annoyance flared, her arms stiff as she accepted the bouquet. ‘Did you bring an olive branch, too?’ she asked, not making it easy for her agent to squeeze inside. ‘A pair of white doves?’
Nora winced. ‘I’ve been mulling over what you said to me, about business with Jim. I just wanted to say I’m truly sorry. You and I have worked together, been friends, for a long time. The whole situation was a slip-up on my part.’
Greta moved to her dining table, eyeing her agent warily. It wasn’t like Nora to apologise like this, or admit she’d made a mistake. ‘It felt like you were nurturing Jim, that’s all. It didn’t feel good.’
‘It was just business chat and nothing more. I handle these kind of showbiz things all the time, so I can become rather blasé.’ Nora blinked over the top of her glasses. ‘Forgive me?’
Greta didn’t reply, still unsure.
Nora lowered her voice enticingly. ‘I put your name forward for Back to the Land. The producers are very interested . . .’
Greta sat down at the table, knitting her fingers together. ‘I don’t know, Nora. I remember a time when fame and success hadn’t gone to your head . . .’
Nora opened her mouth, then shut it again. She pulled out a chair to join Greta. ‘I know we’ve been moving in different directions recently, darling. Things have changed so much since we were two young women, hungry to make our mark on the world. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.’
Greta took a breath, her posture easing. ‘You do seem to spend a lot of time with the glitterati these days,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘You’ve done brilliantly.’
Nora leaned in. ‘And you’ll soon shine again, too. We just need to find you the right project. Something that excites you.’
Greta was done with chasing roles that didn’t resonate.
The jobs Nora lined up for her always felt like compromises, like she was bending herself into shapes that didn’t fit.
In Maple- ville, she’d felt more like herself.
Although her time there had been brief, it had stirred something inside her—a sense of satisfaction that her current life didn’t offer.
‘If I end up living in a hut, baking bread and tending goats on TV, I doubt Lottie will ever speak to me again,’ she said. ‘The role would give you great visibility, darling . . .’
‘It’s not the type of role I’m looking for.’
Nora took off her glasses and rubbed them on her scarf. ‘And what are you looking for?’
Greta thought about it. She’d already tried explaining Ma- pleville to Jim, and that had gone spectacularly badly.
She wasn’t about to make the same mistake with Nora.
Her agent would probably pick it apart and spin it into some kind of brand strategy.
However, with all Nora’s experience in the entertainment world, she might just understand something.
‘It’s more of a feeling rather than an ambition,’ Greta said, touching her pearl necklace. ‘It’s difficult to explain where I’ve been, and what I did there . . .’
‘An audition for another project?’ Nora asked, jumping to conclusions. ‘Care to share?’
‘It’s . . . complicated. A unique, new situation I need to figure out on my own.’
‘I hear you, and I’m here if you ever want to talk.
I’ve seen it all in my line of work. I sometimes think you’re the only one who sees me as a real person rather than a magician.
’ Nora’s eyes dimmed a little. She slid her glasses back on and paused.
‘One of my biggest clients has stopped returning my calls. I’m feeling a bit shut out right now, still trying to land Tobias.
But he’s not biting. I don’t know . . . maybe I’m losing my Midas touch. ’
Greta was surprised to see this softer side of her agent. ‘Perhaps you’re just trying too hard for the people who don’t appreciate it,’ she said.
‘Perhaps.’ Nora tapped a finger on the table.
‘Just remember, whatever this new thing of yours is, I’m here to help, or just to chat.
’ Her eyes wandered around the room, landing on Lottie’s broken silver bracelet on the edge of the table.
‘Didn’t that belong to your mum?’ she asked.
‘I think I remember Marjorie wearing it.’
Greta picked up the bracelet, running her finger over the jagged edge where the clasp had snapped off. Marjorie had always admired Nora’s verve, even when it had started to wear thin for Greta. Her mum had accompanied her to her first- ever meeting with Sky High Ltd.
Greta remembered how, during her mum’s final weeks, Nora had arrived with DVD box sets of Brideshead Revisited and Downton Abbey, determined to lift Marjorie’s spirits. It had been one of the rare times Greta had seen Nora set work aside.
‘Yes, it was Mum’s.’ Greta nodded. ‘I gave it to Lottie for her birthday, but it got broken.’
Nora pressed a hand to her chest. ‘Oh, darling. How terrible.’ Her businesslike manner slid away even further. ‘I could take it to my jeweller, Leonard, if you like. He specialises in vintage pieces. He’ll probably be able to make it as good as new—a nice surprise for Lottie.’
Greta hesitated. Her anger with Nora had dulled, replaced by something closer to empathy. The offer was tempting, showing that Nora really did want to make amends.
‘Consider it another part of my apology,’ Nora added. ‘Then I don’t need to source any olive branches or doves.’
The two women shared a smile.
‘Thanks, Nora.’ Greta wrapped the bracelet in tissue paper and placed it in a small box. She watched as Nora tucked it carefully into her handbag.
Nora stood up. ‘Just before I go,’ she said, ‘I’ve got one last job to offer you. It’s low-key, but something about it made me think of you. Might be more in line with where you are right now . . .’
Greta lifted her chin. ‘Oh?’
‘It’s a charming little radio show called Coffee Morning Crew.
’ Nora wound her scarf around her neck. ‘Someone dropped out last minute, and the producer needs a replacement. Participants choose four dream guests they’d invite to a hypothetical coffee gathering.
It’s warm, chatty and, well, pays absolutely nothing.
’ Nora sighed, as if the thought physically pained her.
Greta let out a dry laugh. ‘Money isn’t everything. And it sounds a lot less muddy than Back to the Land.’
‘Very true. It’s a twenty-minute segment that goes out live on Radio Logic. I’ve never even heard of the station, and—’
‘I’ll do it,’ Greta said firmly.
‘Okay,fabulosa, Nora replied, as if the lack of fee wasn’t fabulous at all. ‘Who will you choose as your hypothetical guests?’
Greta thought for a while. ‘Perhaps Audrey Hepburn, Margaret Atwood, Tobias Blake and, I don’t know . . . Alice in Wonderland.’
‘Hmm. Very interesting choices, darling. I’ll tell the producer. You need to be at the studio at 8:30 a.m. sharp on Monday. I’ll email you all the details.’
After her agent left, Greta stretched her neck to ease a knot of tension.
She picked up the sunflowers, trimmed the stems, and arranged them in a vase, setting them down beside all her other blooms. Despite Nora’s efforts, Greta still felt unsettled.
The idea of stepping back into her performing career, even in the smallest way, should have felt like progress.
Instead, it made her twitchy, like it wasn’t the answer she was searching for.
A ping broke Greta’s focus, pulling her attention away from the flowers.
A notification had appeared on her phone.
Edgar Barker had replied to the question she’d posted in the local Facebook forum. She sucked in a breath as she opened the message.
My experience was out of this world! The coffee took me somewhere I never imagined existed. It really opened my mind.
A rush of adrenaline flooded Greta’s veins, and she hugged herself, staring at the message until the words blurred. It sounded like Edgar had experienced something extraordinary in Iris’s coffee shop, too. If she shared her visit to Mapleville with Edgar, perhaps he’d believe her.
The phrase out of this world twinkled in her mind.
Greta clicked on his profile again, scanning for any red flags— shirtless selfies, posts on how to make lots of money, or claims of a former career as a doctor in the navy.
But all she found were a couple of photos of an older man in a tweed jacket, smiling in front of a bookshelf. Nothing to set off any alarm bells.
Greta knew better than to trust a stranger outright, but the pull of Mapleville and the desire to connect with someone who might have had a similar experience was stronger than her wariness.
She replied,
Sounds like we’ve both been to the same coffee house. I need to return there soon for a cup of the ‘perfect blend.’
Edgar’s reply came almost instantly.
I can totally relate! It’s very rare to meet someone who understands. Feels like fate, don’t you think? When’s your next visit?
Greta’s stomach tensed. Fate? And asking when she was next going to the coffee shop? It felt a bit overly familiar.
Edgar was just a name on the screen, a stranger she’d only recently connected with. And yet, in a world where Nora, Jim and Lottie were forging ahead without her, there was something comforting about finding someone who might actually understand.
At the same time, a low, insistent hum buzzed in her stomach. A craving for another cup of Iris’s coffee? Thank goodness she could go back to the coffee shop tomorrow.
Since taking Jim to see the shell of a building, Greta’s doubts had crept in—not only about the shop, but about Jim, too. Had his disbelief in the café somehow made it disappear? Had his reaction to it caused something inside her to switch, too?
Greta slipped the phone into her pocket, still mulling over Edgar’s messages.
His enthusiasm made her want to visit Iris’s coffee shop even more. The thought of going back was starting to consume her.
The place seemed to offer so much more than just an extraordinary drink.
It felt like a lifeline.