Chapter 19 #2
Violet watched from a distance as Finn—Nathanial, Nathanial—pulled Beatrice hard against him with one arm, cupping her cheek and bending her backwards with another.
A strange discomfort and irritation built in her as he dropped his head and trailed kisses down Jennifer’s—Beatrice’s—throat before kissing her passionately.
When Beatrice’s hands slid into his hair and pulled him to her, she turned away and stared at the trunk of the tree she was standing beside.
A ladybird was climbing slowly and deliberately over the bark.
They did four more takes of the scene. Violet angled her body sideways and stared into the woods.
After lunch, they moved to another scene, and she was sent on more drinks runs.
She bumped into Anna and Ben on one of her long walks to the craft truck.
They had use of a quad so that they could easily get from place to place on the vast location, and they gave her a ride to save her legs.
Ben was a far safer driver than the madman who had driven Violet and Finn into the woods some weeks earlier, but Violet was still glad to clamber out near the craft truck.
‘See you in the bar later!’ Anna called over her shoulder as they lurched off.
At 5pm, with an hour still to go, Violet had clocked nearly 18,000 steps and felt like she’d been wrung out like a squeegee.
Finally, shortly before 6pm and with ten minutes of camera time left, the 1stAD called wrap on the week’s shoot. A whoop of approval went up from the crew who found a new burst of energy as they hurried to pack kit so they could get to the hotel bar.
Back at base, Rachael needed help packing up the AD trailer before the unit move the next day.
Rachael said she felt Violet would be respectful of the admin and stationery and not just fling it all into cupboards.
She glowered out of the window in the direction of Chloe and Leanne.
Despite Violet’s rocky start, she and Rachael were developing a good working rapport.
Violet was happy to do anything that showed Rachael she was a good person to have on the team.
‘Drinks later?’ Rachael asked, as she tidied away a handful of highlighters into a drawer, and scooped papers into the confidential waste bin.
Flattered, Violet beamed. ‘Yes, sure.’
‘Great,’ Rachael grinned. ‘I’ll see you in the hotel bar in an hour or so.’
Willing her tired legs onto the crew shuttle that would take her and the other stragglers back to the hotel, Violet smiled.
She was having a drink with Rachael. That was good progress.
Sure, the other ADs and most of the crew would be there—it wasn’t a tête-à-tête.
But Rachael checking that she would be joining them was nice.
It was a sign she was a proper part of the team.
Arriving back at her hotel room, Violet’s shoulders sagged, and the physical toll of the last week chose to make itself fully known.
She felt her feet for the first time in hours, and they throbbed.
Her back ached from standing all day, every day, and her scalp felt grimy.
Ignoring the temptations of the room service menu propped up on the desk and keeping her eyes away from the lure of the bed, she toed off her boots and steered her weary bones into the shower.
Standing under near-scalding water, she tipped her head back and washed the day away.
Thirty minutes later, feeling human once more, and with the oddities of the day firmly shoved into some locked corner of her mind, she surveyed her outfit choices.
What did one wear to last night drinks in a bar?
Would people be smart and dressy? Actually, it didn’t matter if anyone else was dressing up.
Violet had the choice of jeans or jeans, with a clean pink shirt or a T-shirt with a picture of Muppets Treasure Island.
She pulled on clean jeans and the pale pink shirt, rolling the sleeves up to look less formal.
It was all she had, so it would have to do.
Her hair, air-drying into multiple curls at multiple angles, was pinned up loosely, and she smoothed on a little tinted moisturiser and blusher to reduce the general look of weariness.
Entering the bar, she felt a flutter of nervousness.
The crew all seemed to know each other so well, from other shoots, and she still felt like an outsider.
As she looked around, she could see that she needn’t have worried about what to wear.
Most of the crew had come straight from set and were still in work blacks, muddy boots dangling from crossed legs.
The bar seemed to be filled with crew from the shoot, except for a middle-aged couple in a corner who looked somewhat dismayed by the rabble.
She couldn’t see Rachael when she walked in, but Anna was waving to her from the bar. Violet hurried over, glad to see her friend.
‘Hi.’ Violet grinned.
‘I got us this.’ Anna gestured to a nearly-full bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and two glasses. ‘I assumed you’d want a glass after this week?’
Violet nearly fell on her with thanks.
‘Oh my goodness, yes!’ Violet collapsed onto a barstool as Anna started pouring.
‘It’s always intense when you’re away.’ Anna pushed a glass over to Violet. ‘And to do a week away like this, when you only started in the job a few weeks ago, whew… That’s a lot.’
Violet and Anna were already halfway down the bottle when Rachael appeared, hair still damp from a shower.
‘Ahh, thank Christ that week’s over,’ she said, heaving herself onto a bar stool. ‘Any for me?’ She pointed at the bottle, and Anna beckoned to the barman for another glass.
An hour later, and Violet was feeling decidedly tipsy.
They had been joined by Anna’s colleague Ben, and by Chloe and Ethan, and between them all, they were on their third bottle of wine.
How much of the wine she had personally drunk, Violet wasn’t sure.
Her glass always seemed to be filled up by some considerate person.
‘Come on,’ Rachael said suddenly. ‘Let’s join the party.’
She grabbed the bottle and carved a path away from the bar and towards the cluster of tables the crew had haphazardly dragged together from around the room.
The middle-aged couple had one of the few remaining tables, adrift on the other side of the space, a sea of patterned carpet opening up between them and the gaggle of crew on the other side.
Violet tripped along behind Anna, bringing up the rear.
There was much shuffling of tables, cheerful yelling to move, and then suddenly, Violet felt herself nudged onto one of the sofa benches lining the walls.
She sat down heavily, holding her glass aloft to keep it from spilling, and found herself thigh-thigh with Finn.
‘Hello,’ he said, his head turned towards her, his voice a low rumble directly into her ear.
‘You smell nice.’