Chapter 18
Finn
‘Come in!’ Finn yelled in response to a knock at the door.
The door swung open, and Violet stepped up into the doorway, followed by a gust of chill morning air. She hovered there for a moment, the cold air swirling past her.
‘Jesus, Vi. Come in and shut the door! It’s freezing!’
Finn was halfway through getting changed. He was barefoot in his jeans, his linen costume shirt on, open halfway down his chest. He saw Violet’s eyes skim over him, then flick away before landing on his face.
It was their third day away on location and two days since he had turned down Cynthia’s invitation to join them all for dinner.
Despite the unspoken promises of future work and connections that Cynthia had intimated might be forthcoming, it had been a surprisingly simple and easy decision to make.
He had remembered his promise to Violet—that he would get along with Cynthia only as much as he needed to for the job.
Dinner was certainly more than was necessary.
In the past few weeks, the weirdness of seeing Violet every day had worn off.
In fact, there was something comforting about someone he had first known aged sixteen and with whom there was no need for pretence or niceties.
With most people, you shared the best parts of yourself as you got to know one another and hoped that, if they ever saw your less savoury characteristics, they’d forgive them because they liked - or loved - everything else about you.
He and Violet had seen the worst of one another from the start.
And here they were now - not friends exactly.
No, he told himself quickly, not friends.
But friendly. They were each other's keepers of secrets.
He had found himself watching her, the quiet intensity he remembered from college amplified somehow.
He hadn’t appreciated it as a seventeen-year-old, but now, he had a deep admiration for someone earnestly trying to do a job well.
Violet was always early, always dressed in black and seemed to have a notebook, pen and random bits of stationery about her person at all times.
Sometimes when he saw her across set, she was scribbling in her notebook, hair falling forward over her face.
One day, he saw her pause in writing, smile, and then her shoulders dropped an inch or two, as if she had just worked something out.
Shortly before wrap was called last night, she had leaned in and said something to Ethan, who burst out laughing and then hugged her.
Finn, staring at Ethan who was bending down to whisper something to Violet, had twice missed Leanne telling him they were ready for the final take.
Now, Violet latched the door closed against the wind and smoothed her hair away from her face. ‘Morning Finn,’ she said. ‘Sorry about that. Can I get you anything for breakfast?’
It was the first time he had seen her on her own since Cynthia had been on set. She looked tired, but the shadows under her eyes just made her green eyes look bigger.
As she shifted on the spot, Finn caught the scent of damp grass where she had walked across lawns to his trailer.
He cleared his throat. ‘Bacon and egg roll,’ he said.
Violet typed into her phone.
‘And coffee. Please,’ he added.
Violet nodded. ‘Sure.’ She gave the smallest of smiles. ‘Won’t be long.’
She hesitated for a moment with her hand on the door, as if she wanted to say something, but before he could prompt her, she pushed the door open and was gone.
For a moment, he stood and stared at the space where she had just been. The smell of fresh grass still hung in the air. His phone buzzed, bringing him back, and he mentally shook himself and grabbed the handset.
A few minutes later, he was buttoning his braces onto his woollen trousers when there was a knock at the door.
Crossing the little space, he pushed it open. ‘I hope you’re not here to freeze me to death again—’
He stopped short when he saw that on the other side was not Violet, but Ed, the director, accompanied by Emma, one of the producers. Their faces were sombre, and Finn’s heart plummeted. He stepped back, and the pair climbed up into the trailer.
‘Sorry to intrude,’ Ed was saying as they shuffled round one another in the small space.
Finn remembered his manners and grabbed his bag off the banquette sofa, gesturing for them to sit, but they shook their heads and stayed standing. Finn stood in front of them in his half-costumed state, holding his bag, feeling like a schoolboy in front of the headteachers.
‘Finn, I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of a situation this morning. Elsa’s got a family situation to deal with and so can’t make it in today,’ Emma said.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is she okay?’ Finn asked.
‘Yes, we think so. It’s an issue with her son, I believe. We’ll know more later. But we can’t do the pub scenes and the pub brawl today as planned.’
Finn nodded, not sure what this would mean.
‘So we’re going to pull the family scenes forward from Friday and shoot those today, instead,’ Emma said.
‘Mark is on his way in, and most of the other cast we need were here today anyway for the pub scenes,’ Ed continued. ‘It means we can keep shooting and won’t lose time overall, just move things about.’
There was another knock at the door, then it opened to reveal Violet, breakfast roll and coffee in hand. She saw them all and stopped in her tracks, before backing down the steps, but Emma gestured for her to come in.
Ed, with no time to waste on getting plan B moving, ignored the interruption.
‘The crew are setting up on the exterior cottage set now. We’ll be about,’ he sighed and checked his phone, ‘about an hour late starting to give the crew time to set up and Mark and the other cast time to get into makeup. But that’s the plan.’
He and Emma were already turning to go, obviously needing to get the news to other cast members.
‘We’ll get new sides to you as soon as possible,’ Ed called from halfway down the steps. ‘Let us know if you need anything.’
‘Sure, will do,’ Finn said, as they left, on their way to break the news to other cast members.
As soon as the door closed, he swore under his breath. ‘Shit.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Violet asked as she deposited his breakfast order on the table.
She pulled a wad of paper napkins from her coat pocket and peeled a couple off to place beside the bacon roll.
The day had started so well. He had been looking forward to the pub brawl scenes. They had rehearsed them with the stunt team last week, and he, Mark, and the others had run lines in breaks between scenes on set. He knew his lines inside out, knew his motivation, he was entirely ready for them.
He was still standing in the middle of the trailer, half-dressed, barefoot, holding his bag.
‘They’ve changed the schedule,’ he said. ‘We’re doing Friday’s family scenes today.’
Violet grimaced. ‘I heard on the radio.’
‘I don’t know the lines for the Friday scenes, the family scenes,’ he muttered.
‘Well, you’ve got an hour. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’ Violet stared at him and shrugged. ‘You always did love to wing things at the last second.’
She turned to go and was halfway to the door when he blurted it out.
‘Violet, I’m dyslexic.’
She spun back to face him. ‘What?’
‘I’m not lazy or disorganised, Vi. I’m dyslexic.’
Her face went pale, then a mottled flush appeared on her neck and crept up her cheeks. He imagined she was working back through all the times she had said he should be better prepared, pull his weight, make an effort like everyone else. Both to his face and behind his back.
‘But…’ She swallowed. ‘You never said…when we were in college, you—’
‘I didn’t know in college,’ he said, starting to pace in the tiny space.
‘It was only discovered at university. And then, well,’ his eyes met hers.
‘It’s nobody else’s business. I found a way to manage.
I have a… a system.’ His hand sliced through the air.
‘We weren’t supposed to shoot this until Friday.
’ He pulled open his bag and started digging through it, pulling out his dog-eared script.
He flicked the pages, concentrating hard on the scene names and numbers.
Over the years, he had worked out a process for learning his lines.
He printed the pages out in large font and colour-coded all the text so he could easily see his lines and knew who else was speaking. It took time, but it worked.
‘Shit.’ He looked up in panic. ‘I don’t have those pages with me. Only today and tomorrow.’
Violet took a step towards him.
‘Finn, I am so sorry. I had no idea.’ Her fingers were twisting together, and her expression was guilt mixed with apology. ‘I am sure Ed and the team will understand and give you time. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about—’
His head snapped up. ‘I know it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘I-I just prefer people not making a big deal out of it, that’s all.
I can manage it, usually. Contrary to what you might think, I hate being unprepared and I can’t…
I can’t learn lines on the hoof in front of other people,’ he said.
‘I can’t concentrate when I know people are waiting on me.
Shit.’ He tossed the redundant script pages down on the table and dug his hands into his hair.
‘What if we lose even more time because I keep getting the lines wrong? I don’t want to be the one who holds everything up and—’
Violet was suddenly in front of him, her hand squeezing his arm gently.
‘Okay,’ Violet said, her voice calm and firm.
‘Finn, let me help you.’ Finn’s head was buzzing.
He could hear his heart racing. ‘I’ll help you.
Let me see these.’ Violet gently took the curled script pages from him and glanced down at them.
She was quiet for a moment as she stared at the pages.
‘Give me two minutes. I’ll be right back. ’