Chapter 7
Violet
There was a split-second pause during which Violet and Finn looked at each other, then back to Jake.
This could be it.
The moment, just hours into her new career, when it all came to an end.
She would slink home, tail between her legs, sulk in her bed for a few days, then call up all her theatre contacts and tell them some story about how she realised she missed the thrill of live performance too much and TV was not for her, and did they know of anyone currently looking for a stage manager?
She didn’t know what, if anything, Jake had heard, but one word from Finn, who still looked pissed off, and she was cooked.
Finn opened his mouth.
‘Everything’s fine, cheers, Jake. Violet here was just checking I have everything I need.’ He looked directly at Violet, his dark eyes boring into hers, then raised the water bottle as if toasting. ‘All set. Thanks for going to the trouble.’
Oh, okay. They were in role.
She flashed Finn a broad smile and forced it to reach her eyes.
‘Sure, my pleasure.’ She swallowed and heaped some sugar into her voice before asking sweetly, ‘Can I get you anything else?’
She saw a flicker of mischievousness flash in Finn’s eyes, then it died down.
‘Uh, no, thank you, Violet,’ he said in a voice as smooth and rich as rice pudding. ‘You’ve been sooo helpful already.’
Jake smiled then. ‘Glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘Finn, I need to steal Violet away now. Give her a shout if you need anything.’
‘Oh, I’ll be sure to shout at her,’ Finn said, as they left.
‘This way,’ Jake said, as he walked Violet around the edge of the stage.
Crew were hustling to finalise the setup for the first scene of the day. Two grips passed her pushing a dolly, and a woman carrying a large box marked Action Props: Nathanial Crake.
‘You’ve done light and bell before?’ Jake asked over his shoulder as he neared one of the pedestrian entrances.
‘No,’ Violet said, trying to inject lightness and confidence into her voice. ‘But I know what it is, we covered it in my training.’
Jake was speaking into the radio, and Violet heard him call for someone named Leanne.
They arrived at one of the pedestrian entrances onto the stage.
‘Right, hold on here. Leanne and Ethan are our two floor runners. You’ll be working with them closely for the whole shoot, as well as Chloe who’ll mostly be at base.
Leanne is on her way round now and she’ll show you how to work the light and bell to keep the set secure during takes.
Make sure you listen carefully on the radio, so you know when we cut and when we start rolling again. ’
‘Absolutely,’ Violet said, swivelling into position beside the switches, shoulders back, head up, like she was reporting for military duty. She wouldn’t mess this up. She just had to stand in one spot and press one button.
A few moments later a tall, whippet slim girl, with long French-tipped nails, bounced up and introduced herself as Leanne.
She was barely clear of her teens and had a youthful figure that had yet to experience the joys of gravity.
Violet instinctively folded her short, plain nails into her palms, breathed in, and stood up straighter.
Leanne looked like the mean girl at every school, ever, but actually seemed very sweet.
Leanne showed her the simple light and bell system and explained what to listen for from the First Assistant Director, or 1stAD for short.
Once Violet assured her she was happy with everything, Leanne said, ‘See ya later!’ in a sing-song voice, and danced away, her glossy, long brown ponytail swinging behind her.
Violet concentrated like she had never concentrated before, unless she was calling the show cues in theatre.
She didn’t miss one word on the radio, and her timing on the light and bell was spot on.
She stood with her fingers on the radio button clipped to her lapel, lightning-quick in her responses.
After three hours of this, her back was starting to ache from standing in one position for so long.
She leaned back against the wall in the darkness.
The combination of the early start and standing in the darkness was making her feel sleepy, even though it wasn’t yet even lunchtime.
Pushing away from the wall, she walked on the spot and flexed her hands.
‘Cut!’ came the voice down the radio, and Violet pressed the bell and switched the red light off. A handful of crew waiting outside the doors stalked in, and voices surged across the stage, replacing the church-like silence that accompanied the takes.
Just as she was wondering if finding a chair to perch on during takes would be frowned upon, Leanne bounced up to her.
‘Do you need a comfort break for a minute? I can cover if you need to run to the loo or grab a drink?’
The crew on set was resetting, and the burble of voices continued. This was the best time to stretch her legs and relieve her bladder.
‘Thank you,’ Violet said to Leanne. ‘Yes, please!’
Leanne beamed at her, revealing her dead-straight, bright-white teeth.
‘No problem! Head through that door there,’ she said, pointing to a doorway halfway along the back wall. ‘See you in a minute!’ And she leaned casually against the wall in the spot Violet had just vacated and started scrolling through her phone.
Violet, trying to get her legs working again after standing for so long, shouldered open the heavy door and found herself in an internal walkway which connected the stages to the offices, loos, and workshops.
In the toilets, Violet stayed hidden inside a cubicle for a few moments to give herself time to process all that had happened.
It was barely four hours since she had arrived to start this new job, which was supposed to be the start of a new life.
So far, it had gone worse than she could have imagined, and, far from looking forward to the next few months, she was dreading it.
Waiting on Finn every day, smiling and making nice with him, doing whatever he asked, and all while he held an axe over her head.
He could undermine all her efforts and plans with just a few words to Jake or Rachael.
The door clattering open interrupted her train of thought.
‘Hurry up,’ said one voice from the sinks, as a stall door rattled closed and a lock slipped into place.
Violet didn’t want to meet any more new people just yet, so she stayed put, waiting for them to leave.
‘Yes, but have you seen her?’ said another voice, from somewhere down the town of cubicles. Water started running in a basin, and the person in the cubicle groaned with relief. ‘She’s pretty old for a trainee!’
Violet’s head snapped up.
‘I know,’ hissed the voice near the basin. Violet heard the sounds of paper towels being pulled from a dispenser. ‘What is she, like forty?’
‘I heard someone say she’s like 35 or 36 or something,’ came the cubicle voice, ‘so yeah, almost forty.’
Was there another, more mature trainee on this production? Violet didn’t think so.
I’m thirty-four, Violet screamed in her head. That’s not nearly forty.
She held her breath, knuckles tightening on her jeans.
‘Who becomes a trainee in their thirties?’ said basin voice. ‘That’s weird. Like, don’t you have your shit together by then? It’s a bit late to still be deciding what you want to do, isn’t it?’
Violet couldn’t place the voice but felt sure she had heard it at some point that morning.
The toilet flushed, and the stall door clattered open. Water ran again, and someone laughed.
‘Like, shoot me if I am still figuring out what to do with my life when I’m that old.’
‘She’s not much younger than my mum. Imagine if my mum was a trainee and getting people drinks and stuff at nearly forty.’
Violet’s face flamed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
‘That mate of yours, Ally, should’ve got the traineeship.’
‘Yeah, that would have been so much better.’ There was a heavy sigh. ‘Ah, well, we’ll just have to make it work with a more mature candidate.’
There was a splutter of tinny laughter, then footsteps passed within two feet of where she was as the two girls headed out. The toilet door banged closed behind them, and Violet was alone once more.
She stayed in the cubicle for several moments after they had gone, taking deep breaths and letting her cheeks cool.
Then she yanked open the door. Washing her hands at the sink, she leaned forward and peered at herself in the mirror.
Did she look forty? She knew she was older than the typical trainee, and she had expected that some people might find it unusual, but she hadn’t expected to overhear them talk about her.
Rachael and Jake had told her, after the interview, that she was far and away the strongest candidate for the job.
Now she just needed to prove it to everyone else.
Back on set, Violet took over from a smiling Leanne, who bounced away, her glossy ponytail catching every gleam of light. Did Leanne think she was too old to be a trainee, too?
Unbelievably, to Violet, they were barely halfway through the working day.
What happened to time in this place? Each minute felt like three as Violet stewed on the unfair judgement passed on her in the toilets.
She scowled and railed silently against a system that still tacitly expected people to pick one job for the rest of their lives and classed women as ‘older’ once they were in their thirties.
Violet was sent to help Leanne with lunches, picking up the pre-ordered meals, delivering cast lunches, and then distributing meals to the AD team.
Leanne took Finn his lunch, so Violet was spared a round two.
She spent most of the afternoon on red light and bell, with just a couple of short breaks.
It was mind-numbingly boring. In her little corner, she couldn’t see a thing that was happening, and she could only hear snippets.
She was basically a door monitor. Starting at the bottom, she chanted to herself. It won’t be like this forever.
They wrapped at six pm, and Violet was called for a quick debrief at the AD trailer, which went fine. Rachael said that, despite the early hiccups - a nice word for walking in on Mark getting dressed - she had done well.
By the time Violet got home, it was approaching seven pm. She had left the house shortly before six am that morning. She sank down into her sofa and wished she could curl up into a foetal position and not move.
Just three days ago, on Friday night, on her last evening in theatre, all had been good—she had got tipsy on Champagne and prosecco with the cast of the show, and lovely friends from across the industry had called in over the night.
She looked up at the dozens of cards lining her mantel, at the flowers filling two vases, a jug, and two large mugs, after she had run out of vases to put them in.
She had been appreciated and celebrated.
They had toasted her on her new adventure, the air full of assurances that she would be sorely missed, that there was no one like her, that she must stay in touch, that they would see her soon, that she would be great, an asset to her new team.
If they could see her now…
Violet dragged herself into the bathroom and started running a bath, adding a liberal dose of her favourite bubble bath.
Right about now, as she was peeling sweaty socks off burning feet and easing tired legs out of her jeans, theatres around the country were opening their doors.
Glasses were clinking in bars, programmes were being sold, and people were doing the dignified sideways shimmy down rows of smart but well-worn red velvet seats to find their place.
Her colleagues were checking that the cast had arrived, calling the half, and getting ready to call the five.
House lights were on standby to dim, then the lights would go down, and the curtain would go up.
Violet felt a tight ball build in her throat and tried to swallow it down.
She sank into the almost-too-hot water, the heat immediately soothing her aching limbs and throbbing feet.
Reaching for the wine she had brought in with her, she took a long swig of the ice-cold liquid and felt it swirl down into her belly.
Then she sank down deep until she was fully submerged, just the hand holding the wine glass sticking up out of the water.
Underwater, she wasn’t sure if she was crying or not as Finn’s face floated in front of her mind’s eye.