Chapter 19
GRETA SAT IN the plush cream leather seat of a car, far away from the man in the driver’s seat.
He wore a peaked black cap—a chauffeur, she realised.
The engine purred as the car glided through the streets of Mapleville.
A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket beside her, flanked by two crystal flutes.
Peering down, she saw she was wearing a bronze dress with a boned bodice. The skirt skimmed her ankles, and pointed gold shoes peeped out from beneath the hem. When Greta touched her hair, she found she was wearing a tiara. She was dressed like a bona fide star.
‘Am I in a stretch limousine?’ she asked the driver.
‘Yes, Ms Perks,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Sit back and enjoy the ride. We’ll be there in a few minutes.’
Greta let out a delighted laugh, wondering where they were heading. Iris might have shown up in her shop at the last minute, demanding to know what she’d done, but it was too late now. She guessed it would be pretty obvious that she’d returned to Mapleville.
Greta pushed all her worries aside, unwilling to dwell on her questionable decision to drink the coffee dregs. She was here now, and that was all that mattered.
Mapleville looked even more magical at dusk.
The crescent moon in the indigo sky was so sharp it looked like it had been cut out of silver paper, and the stars sparkled like diamonds.
Street lamps made the pavements shine as if lined with gold leaf, and water in the town square fountain sparkled like glitter.
As the car pulled up outside the town hall, a cheer erupted from the crowd waiting there. Hundreds of people strained against red rope barriers, and flashbulbs went off in quick succession, lighting up the sky like bursts of fireworks.
The chauffeur turned his head to glance at her. ‘Looks like they’re ready for you, Ms Perks.’
‘Me?’ Greta gasped, holding a hand to her chest. ‘What have I done?’
He didn’t reply. Instead, his head jerked several times before he repeated, ‘It looks like they’re ready for you, Ms Perks.’
Greta stared at him. He appeared to be glitching like Iris’s TV, but she couldn’t exactly give him a smack to reset him. She watched until his head stilled.
He smiled at her, then slid out of the car to speak to a similarly dressed man in a dark suit and bow-tie, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Through the car window, Greta gulped when she saw hundreds of outstretched arms. Eyes gleamed, and there were even tears.
The scene was so intense that she shuffled in her seat.
It was the kind of reception usually reserved for rock stars.
It was one thing to be loved by Jim and Lottie in Mapleville, but this was another level. In fact, it was exhilarating.
Greta’s hand trembled as she poured herself a glass of champagne. As she sipped the ice-cold liquid, excitement fizzed inside her.
The adjacent passenger door suddenly opened, and a person slid into the back seat beside her. ‘You’re causing a frenzy out there, darling.’
Greta turned around in disbelief. ‘Nora?’
‘Yes, of course it’s me, darling. Who else is going to accompany you on your big night? Supporting you is my raison d’etre.’ She helped herself to a glass of champagne.
Greta worked her jaw. Nora was speaking to her like a top client. And it felt good.
Her agent’s eyes sparkled as she held up her glass for a toast. ‘You’re going to knock ‘em dead,’ Nora said, clinking her flute against Greta’s.
Greta tried not to splutter as the bubbles hit the back of her throat.
Nora gave her a pat on the back. ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked, her tone more businesslike than concerned. ‘You seem rather flustered.’
‘This is just all so unexpected and . . . great.’ Greta had forgotten how passionate some fans could be, though she’d never experienced them on this scale. The unified chant of her name was like music to her ears.
‘It’s totally fabulous.’ Nora agreed, waving regally at the window. ‘All our hard work has come to fruition. Now, let’s make the most of it.’
The chauffeur opened the door and extended his gloved hand to Greta. She grasped it, grateful for something to hold on to as she stepped onto the pavement.
A red carpet stretched ahead of her, leading toward the town hall. All the crowd strained forward for a closer look at her, many chanting her name.
The a cappella singers also appeared, as if from nowhere.
Under the stars, you’ve come so far,
a shining star, that’s who you are.
Enjoy the glow, the crowd’s embrace,
in Mapleville, you’ve found your place.
You’re always at home with Maple Gold.
They sang the same verse three times, as if stuck on repeat. Their words slowed, then sped back up, making them sound like they’d inhaled helium.
Greta stared at them. First the chauffeur, and now this? Was it due to her misuse of the coffee?
Her palms moistened as she took a first step onto the red carpet. Her ankles wobbled in her perilously high shoes. As she glanced around her, all she could see were the bright lights and a sea of people. The scene made her feel dizzy, as if she’d just stepped off a carousel after too many turns.
‘Anything wrong?’ Nora said. ‘Keep moving, darling.’
Greta smiled around stiffly at her fans. ‘Why am I here, exactly?’ she asked from the corner of her mouth.
Nora squinted at her in bewilderment. ‘You’ve won the Gold Star People’s Award, of course.’
‘I did? What’s that?’
‘An award voted for by the people. You won it for your blockbuster.’
Greta stopped dead. ‘I made a film?’ It was something she’d always wanted to do, but she couldn’t recall a thing about making it. This was like a dream of the perfect life she wanted. ‘What is it about . . . ?’
But Nora had already turned away, relishing the attention, as if the crowd were here for her, too.
Over the years, Greta had attended numerous award ceremonies for meaningless accolades, mostly because she’d been invited, promised an extravagant goody bag, or assured by Nora that it would boost her profile.
The last invitation had been eight or nine years ago, for the grand opening of a department store’s new floor.
All Greta had to do was show up, pose, then wave and smile for the cameras while holding up a perfume bottle or caressing a pure wool rug.
She’d forgotten how embarrassing it could be to smile, wave and generally be on show for the public. Everyone was looking at her like she was a goddess rather than a normal person.
‘Greta! Over here,’ someone shouted.
Another person yelled, ‘Greta, we love you!’
Someone grabbed her arm, and she swerved out of their way.
‘Smile,’ yet another voice urged, just before the flash of a camera sent bright spots dancing behind her eyes.
Greta blinked hard. She twinkled her fingers in a cautious wave, attempting to stay calm. Trying to soak up the adulation. Her chest felt sore and squashed, as if a rhino had sat on her. A feeling deep inside told her that she didn’t belong here, that she was a fraud.
The same thing had happened while filming the Maple Gold commercials, too.
Back then, Greta had smiled and sipped coffee under the blazing lights, convinced that someone would discover she was an imposter and kick her off the set.
With every accolade, every compliment or achievement, she’d never been able to shake the feeling she didn’t truly deserve any of it.
Heading toward the town hall, she concentrated on not tripping over the hem of her gown. She shook hands, murmured polite thank-yous, and accepted bouquets thrust into her arms. She passed the flowers to Nora, freeing her up to sign autographs.
Greta’s heart leaped when she spotted Jim and Lottie waiting by the entrance to the town hall. Jim waved, and Lottie smiled proudly like she couldn’t believe how cool her mum was. Millie was there, too, wearing a supportive smile.
‘Hi,’ Greta called out to them. Stepping off the red carpet, she tried to weave her way toward them.
But Nora had other ideas, gripping Greta’s arm. ‘You can see your family later. This evening is all about you.’ With a firm tug, she steered her back toward a mass of cameras.
Greta glanced back ruefully over her shoulder, feeling lost as her husband, daughter, and Millie were swallowed by the crowd.
Nora led the way inside the town hall, then toward the grand staircase.
‘We’re going up to the ballroom now, and you should pause at the top of the stairs.
Think beautiful thoughts, wave, and smile like you mean it.
Then we’ll head backstage.’ She dropped back for a few moments, leaving Greta on her own.
From Greta’s elevated position, the people below looked like the roses in Millie’s garden. Even though many faces were looking up at her, she felt very much alone.
She plastered on a smile and posed while flashbulbs fired around her.
Afterward, Nora reappeared. ‘Follow me,’ she ordered, escorting Greta through into a maze of corridors.
The scent of polished wood and old velvet hung in the air, and chatter buzzed from behind swathes of curtain. At the back of the space, a huge screen hung, blank and dark silver.
Greta looked around her helplessly.
‘Are we watching the film now?’ she asked. The thought of seeing her own face so big, and at close range, made her want to run and hide. ‘What’s it about?’
Nora frowned, though her forehead remained unnaturally smooth. ‘You’ve already seen it, remember? We’ll watch the trailer alongside the rest of the audience. Then you’ll go on stage to receive your award. You can slip out while the film plays, or you can stay to watch it.’
Greta felt suddenly hot, and she wafted her face with her hand. ‘Yes, of course I remember it,’ she lied. ‘I just wondered.’
A brass band struck up a medley of dramatic music that she assumed was from the movie. A bass drum thudded so loudly it made her insides jump. The curtains twitched, then opened, revealing a tall wooden podium facing the audience.
A shot of adrenaline made Greta feel faint. She wanted to escape, but Nora stood firmly at her side like a gatekeeper she couldn’t get past.
A silver-haired man in a maroon tuxedo walked onto the stage and performed a bow. He proceeded to gush about the film like it was a masterpiece that would go down in history.
Greta saw Nora roll her eyes.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the man boomed. ‘Before we watch the film, it is my pleasure to invite on stage someone who is no stranger to the limelight themselves. The star of over twenty movies, his name is synonymous with cinematic excellence.
‘A legend in his own right, please welcome the one, the only . . . Mr Tobias Blake . . .’
Greta felt her knees give way, and she almost fell into a swoon.
Tobias Blake was here?
For her?