Chapter 4
Violet
Finn was staring at her agog. His mouth was slightly open, and his bag hung slackly from his hand.
It had been sixteen years. Sixteen years and no expectation that they’d ever be face-to-face like this again.
Certainly not here. Not in the new life she was making for herself.
Her face flamed, and she was glad of the dim light as she looked up at him, taking him in.
He looked different, but there was no mistaking that it was him.
She would have recognised him anywhere, even without his name on the call sheet.
The soft, boyish good looks she had last seen at eighteen had been replaced with a harder jawline and the shadow of dark stubble.
Now his look was less sulky boy band frontman, more renegade detective who makes deals off the books but always gets justice, even if it means working outside the law.
The lean, lanky body had filled out. Broad shoulders stretched out his jacket, and he stood straighter and less languid than at their last encounter.
She could have sworn he was taller than she remembered.
He loomed over her, clearing six feet easily, and she caught a faint scent of something woody and peppery.
His chestnut dark hair was just a little too long and rumpled.
It looked as if he had just rolled out of bed and run those long fingers through it once.
Knowing him, that’s probably exactly what happened.
She hated that he had got better looking. Why couldn’t he have gone to seed, eschewed the gym for pizza and Netflix, developed a paunch, lost a few teeth to a terrible toffee addiction, and had an advanced case of male pattern baldness? It was typical of him to show up looking like this.
She was gripping her call sheet so hard it was disintegrating between her fingers.
Rachael’s voice sounded loud in her ear, and she jumped, feet rising and shoulders scrunching. She wasn’t used to wearing an earpiece yet. Finn gave her an odd look. No more odd than she felt, she was sure.
‘Violet,’ crackled the voice in her ear. ‘Do you have Finn? Transport has reported him being dropped off.’
Violet stared up at Finn, who had yet to say or do anything since he said, ‘Not you.’
Her fingers fumbled for the button on her radio cord.
‘Yes, he’s just arrived. Heading to his trailer now.’
‘Okay, great. Get him a drink, give him two minutes to settle in, then take him to makeup.’
‘Copy that,’ Violet squeaked out. She looked up at Finn, who was staring at her, waiting.
‘Um, If you’d like to come with me.’
Her voice was high-pitched and croaky. She cleared her throat and continued, now pitching her voice strangely low. ‘I’ll show you to your trailer,’ she managed, avoiding eye contact and hoping the darkness masked her dismay.
Her feet were leaden as she turned towards the rows of matching white trailers, pools of light showing the paths in between. She retraced her steps towards the cast trailers near the front of the lot.
She wasn’t at all sure that he was following her, so she glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was there.
He was not three feet behind her and was staring right at her. Her eyes met his, and she snapped her head back around.
‘Well, well, well.’ His voice sounded oddly loud in the early morning gloom. Violet gritted her teeth and didn’t turn around. There was a pause, then a chuckle that he did nothing to hide. ‘This is a turn-up for the books, isn’t it, Vi?’
Violet bit down so hard she almost cracked a tooth. ‘Don’t call me Vi.’
They were in amongst the trailers now. It was still pitch black, save for the smattering of electric lights, and it was starting to drizzle. Violet hurried down a row, blinking rapidly and ducking her head against the spitting rain.
She could feel Finn hot on her heels as she came up alongside a trailer.
She couldn’t wait to get him inside and shut the door on him.
Clearly, she would be seeing plenty of him in the coming weeks, but right now she needed to shove him inside his trailer so she could have a moment to digest this fresh horror without his eyes burning into the back of her neck.
Glancing sideways under her lashes at the names on the trucks as she went, Violet found what she was looking for. Marching smartly up the three metal steps, head high and feeling like a pro at this AD malarkey, she grasped the latch and pulled open the door.
There was a shout as the door swung open to reveal a sixty-something man in Y-fronts, socks and crocs, clutching a t-shirt to his chest.
‘Do you mind?’ the man bellowed.
Violet squealed and slipped backwards down the steps, crashing into Finn, still holding onto the door latch with one hand, her arm now outstretched over her head, holding the door wide open.
‘For God’s sake, close the bloody door!’ the man yelled, stretching the t-shirt fabric down over his groin.
Violet abruptly let go of the door, and it hung wide open, banging back against the side of the trailer. She fumbled to grab the side of it and push it closed.
‘Finn?’ the man enquired, peering out into the dimly lit lot, as Violet grappled with the door, both the door and her hands now slippery with rain. She grabbed it and was swinging it closed when Finn replied.
‘Mark? Good to see you! Didn’t recognise you for a moment there!’
Finn stepped onto the bottom step, reached up and shook the man’s hand.
Violet, now in possession of the door if not all her faculties, stood holding the door half open, unsure of what to do.
‘Well.’ Mark scowled and directed his gaze to Violet. ‘I don’t suppose you’re used to seeing quite so much of me.’
From her position beside the steps, Violet could now see that the cast sign on the trailer did indeed say Nicholas Crake, the character name of Nathanial’s father. Not Nathanial Crake. What she wouldn’t give for a well-placed sinkhole to swallow her up right now. Her shoulders slumped.
Finn skated past this comment, for which Violet grudgingly thanked him in her head, and moved the conversation on.
‘Sorry to have interrupted. I’ll let you get back to it and see you on set!’ Finn said, taking a step away.
But Mark, rapidly recovering from the shock, was now happy to chat.
He threw his t-shirt casually over one shoulder like a tea towel and crossed one socked ankle over the other as he leaned in the doorway, arms folded.
Violet, still holding the door open, looked at him in wonder.
It was February, the temperature was hovering around freezing, and Mark was standing there like he was about to jump into a heated pool in July.
‘Have you seen the script changes?’ he was saying to Finn.
‘Yes,’ Finn nodded. ‘I think they’re good. Gives us more to work with, more to bounce off with each other.’
Mark rubbed his jaw. ‘That’s what I thought. We should really be able to get some father-son tension going.’ Mark mimed a jab-jab action with his fists.
Finn laughed as the radio in Violet’s ear went off.
‘Violet, is Finn settled in his trailer? I need you to collect Mark Beadle and take him to costume.’
Jesus, she was already behind.
‘Um, I’m sorry to interrupt,’ she said, in a meek voice that she didn’t recognise as her own. ‘But I need to get you to your trailer, Finn. Your actual trailer,’ she said, her face heating up despite the frosty air.
‘And you are…?’ Mark asked, peering down at her.
‘Come in, Violet,’ said the insistent voice in her ear.
‘Violet,’ she said, attempting a smile.
She knew she needed to say more than that.
Mark wasn’t enquiring about her name - he wanted to know what she was doing barging into his trailer.
She could feel Finn’s eyes boring into the side of her face, waiting for her answer.
She swallowed, her tongue feeling too big for her mouth.
Introducing herself as a trainee in front of Finn Ellington was not on her bingo card, and she squirmed on the spot.
‘I’m the…’ she hesitated for a split second before forcing herself to say the words. ‘I’m the Trainee AD.’ There was a snort of laughter from beside her, which Finn turned into a cough which fooled no one. ‘And, for today only, base runner.’
‘Today only?’ Mark arched an eyebrow. ‘Is that based on how things have gone so far?’
Violet’s face flushed again, the tips of her ears growing hot.
‘Violet!’ Came the voice in her ear.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ Violet muttered. Into the radio she said, ‘Yes, sorry, he’s in. I was just…answering a question,’ she added, by way of explaining her radio silence. She had to get Finn to his trailer right now for that to be remotely true. ‘I’ll go to Mark now,’ she said into the radio.
‘Oh. You’ll go to Mark now, will you?’ Mark raised a bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrow and squinted down at her. ‘And what will you go to Mark for?’
She could feel Finn staring at her. Her cheeks were burning, and heat crept up her neck. She pulled at her scarf, needing more air.
‘Um, I need to take you to costume,’ Violet said, trying and failing to inject a tone of surety into her voice. She cleared her throat.
‘Oh, right. Well, let me throw on a robe and find my glasses.’
Mark disappeared from the doorway into the trailer.
‘Oh, no! Hang on!’ Violet said in a panic. ‘I have to take Finn to his trailer, and then I’ll be back for you in just a moment.’ Mark reappeared in the doorway, beetle brows knitted together. ‘If you don’t mind waiting just one moment,’ she added.
‘Why would I mind waiting?’ Mark asked, smoothing a hand over his thinning grey hair. ‘You’ve already turned me into a flasher, what’s a few minutes between friends?’
Violet’s mouth hung open like a guppy, and her mind went blank. Finn sniggered.
Mark burst out laughing.
‘Don’t look so worried.’ He reached out and took hold of the inside handle of the door, and Violet gladly relinquished her hold. ‘Get that charmer out of here, and I’ll be ready when you get back.’
Violet nodded dumbly and turned to go.