Chapter Thirty-One
Bang! Bang! Bang! I was awoken by a sharp rap of knuckles on the door leading to my verandah.
It had to be Josh. I looked at the time on my phone and gasped in horror.
Courtney’s sleeping pills! I’d slept so long that I’d missed breakfast, and now Josh was coming to pick me up and I was in my pyjamas!
Confident, sexy Emily had been too short-lived.
I ran my fingers through my hair, checked I didn’t have hideous morning breath, and went to the door.
‘Woah!’ Josh said, surveying me in my pyjamas – fortunately a little navy silk set with cream lace trim. ‘Did you forget we had plans?’
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise I was going to sleep so late! Just give me ten minutes? I promise I don’t need much time!’
‘I’ve heard that before,’ he said with a smirk that was equal parts infuriating and charming.
‘I’ll see you in reception in fifteen minutes?’
‘See! It’s already got longer!’
‘I’ll make it twenty if you don’t let me get dressed!’ I warned him.
‘All right, all right, though you look pretty cute in this if you want to stick with it.’
I rolled my eyes and started shutting the door in his face, not least because I was suddenly aware I was not wearing a bra and that would be pretty obvious to him.
‘See you there,’ he said, winking as he strolled away nonchalantly.
I showered and braided my hair so I didn’t have to wash it, knowing the humidity would wreak absolute havoc on it even if I did.
I did a quick light face of makeup and chose a simple navy linen shift dress and Dior l’Amazone gladiator sandals, with a cream cotton shirt rolled up neatly in my bag if I needed it, along with an essential umbrella.
I wasn’t going to get caught out now I’d seen not one but two thunderstorms in the space of twelve hours.
The dress was shorter than I would usually wear, but I’d been consciously trying to wear more things that were slightly out of my comfort zone, just to see what it was like.
I checked the time on my phone as I headed out the door and over to reception.
Conscious of the need to make the most of my time with Josh, I’d done it in thirteen minutes.
Josh was slouching in a dark wooden rattan chair in the vast vaulted atrium, but leaped to his feet at the sight of me.
‘I’m impressed! I thought you’d keep me waiting!
’ He was wearing a ‘don’t look at me’ famous person baseball cap, which felt to me like a total waste of his dark curls and often had the opposite effect anyway, causing people to look at you even more.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ Both of us were carrying a nervous energy, like we both sensed time was slipping away and we would have to be at the TV studio for our interview before we knew it.
‘I figured we could walk around, see some cool shit, eat something delicious . . . whatever we have time for before this filming later. Or do you need a more, uh, structured plan than that?’ he asked, eyeing me hopefully.
I shook my head. ‘It sounds perfect.’
Our first stop was the botanic gardens. The air was heavy with humidity which made the earthy fragrance of the soil and the occasional scent of the flowers feel even more alive, even closer.
We walked together, side by side, as we made our way slowly and without purpose through the gardens, ducking under huge leaves, strolling through arches festooned with vines and flowers, along paths dappled with sunlight.
It was all a bit Wonderwick Woods, actually.
The gardens were busy with tourists like us, but a sense of peace had settled over us as soon as we arrived, an unspoken agreement that we didn’t need to be on, didn’t need to be coming up with endless conversation.
That it was OK for us to just be. The orchids were a particular delight for the senses, their scent cut through everything with their heavy sweetness, and I had to resist the urge to reach out and touch each of them, the colours almost too good to be true.
I paused in front of one, Singapore’s national flower.
Josh stopped next to me and read the label.
‘National flower, huh? Kinda makes me want to pick it . . . take it home,’ he said with a smile.
‘Josh.’ I gave him a ‘don’t even think about it’ look.
‘Come on! I’m kidding.’ He laughed.
‘Old habits die hard! I wouldn’t put it past you!
Now you’re making me wonder if you went out and picked all those flowers yourself.
’ Josh pushing me in the river felt like ancient history, but strangely walking into my trailer filled with flowers seemed like only yesterday.
As if time had passed too quickly in the new era of us.
He frowned at me. ‘What flow—’ Then he remembered, his cheeks flushing pink. ‘Oh, that. I think I made some local florist’s day with that order. They probably didn’t need to open again all week.’ He took off his cap and ran his hands over his hair, his fingers creating a channel through the waves.
I cleared my throat a little awkwardly. ‘It was very kind of you.’
‘The least I could do, obviously. And I’m not gonna pick the Singapore orchid. Can you imagine what the sidebar of shame would do with that, it’d be JOSH SACCO INSULTS ENTIRE COUNTRY.’
We kept walking, pausing every so often to look at something – a cool insect, a butterfly with colours we’d never seen before, a bird with unbelievable plumage.
Sometimes we’d break into brief conversation, but mostly we walked in companionable silence.
Josh agreed that the tropical botanic landscape was very Wonderwick, all massive tree trunks and spreading canopies.
‘It’s like we can’t escape it,’ he said.
‘Do you want to escape it?’
‘Escape is a strong word but . . .’
I didn’t say anything, just waited for him to speak.
‘I’m just at a point where I’m wondering if there’s more to life than Wonderwick, you know?’
‘Of course I know,’ I said, gently. But the difference was, I really did know.
I’d filmed Orientations. I’d taken on a character that wasn’t Linderley Jones, worked with people that weren’t the same old cast and crew, had to dig deep to find the emotional truth of the scene, as Edgar would put it.
‘It’s just a question of what you think you want to do next. ’
‘Ah, I’ll figure it out. I’ve got options. I’m having meetings . . . talking to people . . . I know Lisa has me in mind for something.’
‘Lisa Halley?’
‘The very same.’ That would probably be another big budget Legacy Pictures film.
I wondered how different to Wonderwick that would actually be for Josh.
‘There’s this new superhero thing they’re casting for .
. . it’s called Eagle Heart. Very all-American.
I think she thinks it’ll help, uh, realign my image after the Howard Hunt thing. ’
It sounded like propaganda to me, which doesn’t often make for good cinema. I didn’t want to be a downer, so I kept my thoughts to myself.
‘You all natured out? Time for some architecture?’ Josh asked.
‘I guess so!’ I said, brightly. I wanted to show Josh that I was enjoying my time with him, whatever we were doing.
That the actual location didn’t really matter, that I was just happy to be spending time with him, one-on-one.
It seemed ridiculous now, the idea that other people had been invited.
It was so obvious that we were meant to have this time together.
He looked down at his phone for a moment and I realised I hadn’t even thought about the outside world since we’d been here. His eyes were bright as he held the screen up for me to see. ‘You get this?’
I took my phone out of my pocket and propped my sunglasses on my head to read. The afternoon’s filming had been . . . cancelled!
‘A fire at the TV studio! Can you believe that?! I mean, it says no one was hurt so I don’t feel so bad,’ Josh said with a grin.
It was as if the universe was conspiring to prolong our hangout. When else would Josh and I get to spend a whole day together in a foreign country?
‘What should we do now?’ I asked, feeling slightly high on the freedom and the extra time with Josh.
‘There’s somewhere I would like to go, if you don’t mind me being the boss for a while? Or maybe not boss but . . . tour guide?’ he said, tentatively.
‘I’m in.’
We left the gardens and hailed a taxi, Josh giving the driver the next location which meant nothing to me as I didn’t know Singapore.
Neither did Josh, I thought, but he seemed to have done his research.
When we emerged from the taxi into what seemed to me a perfectly pleasant but normal street, Josh was already beaming.
He paid the taxi driver and stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at the building in front of us.
‘Streamline Moderne,’ he sighed, his eyes almost misting over.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, unable to suppress a smile at his obvious passion for . . . something, even if I didn’t know what it was.
‘It’s a late art deco period. These are from the late thirties, pre-war, and they incorporate all these elements of modernity and travel – elements that look like airplane wings, details that evoke a steam train, that sort of thing.
It’s all about aerodynamics and speed and powering into the future, while still keeping the basics of the art deco aesthetic.
Singapore has some amazing examples, as you can see.
’ He gestured to the building in front of us.
When I looked again with this new knowledge, I realised he was right: they weren’t just beautiful, they spoke of the future, a building on the move.
‘You’re into architecture?’ I asked, blinking at him. Obviously, I found this delightful, but it was the first I’d heard him mention it, ever, in the seven years we’d known each other by this point.
‘Why, is that such a surprise?’ he asked, sounding a little wounded.
‘No, not at all! Just not something we’ve really talked about before,’ I said lightly.