Chapter 23
Finn
Finn re-read Violet’s last message to him, sent two days before in response to his photograph.
Burn them, it read. Then a grimacing face emoji.
But he hadn’t burnt them. He had washed them, along with his own things, dried them and then gently folded them, remembering the body they had been wrapped around as he did so, before briefly wondering if he was a pervert with a knicker fetish.
Now Violet’s knickers sat in a little bag inside his rucksack on the sofa in his trailer.
He wasn’t well-versed in the etiquette of returning a woman’s knickers to her after what was, at the moment, a one-night stand.
But that was the whole point. He wanted a chance for it to be more than one night.
He needed a reason to get Violet to come and talk to him, in private.
If that meant returning her black cotton panties to her, folded neatly in a supermarket carrier bag, then so be it.
They were shooting at the studios today, which meant he should get a chance to see her.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about that night since he had woken up on Saturday morning and found her gone and the bed beside him cold.
He wanted to contact her, but he didn’t want to be clumsy and rush things, and he had no idea what Violet thought of that night.
Was she regretting it? Was she disappointed he hadn’t called?
Was she relieved not to have heard from him?
It had taken him three times as long to go over his lines last night because he kept getting distracted and thinking about Violet.
About how soft and thick her hair was. How she had responded so eagerly to his touch.
About the indent of her waist and the fullness of her hips and how she had pushed him back against the side of the lift…
There was a knock at his trailer door.
‘Yeah!’ he shouted, jumping to his feet. He hoped this was Violet; maybe she was helping at base today.
The door opened, and Chloe stuck her head in. ‘Morning, Finn, they’re ready for you on set.’
Not Violet.
His pulse, which had quickened with the knock on the door, slowed.
‘Great,’ he said, reaching for his bag, the carrier bag with knickers carefully packed inside it, before striding to the door.
As they walked to set and Chloe chatted easily about the set-up for the day, he looked around for Violet. He couldn’t see her. They were walking around the edge of the stage and were almost at the easy-up when he interrupted Chloe who was talking about what was on the lunch menu.
‘Hey, who is in from the AD team today?’ he asked casually.
Chloe looked a bit surprised. ‘Um, well, the usual crew,’ she said, in a bright voice.
He nodded. That was no help. ‘Sure, sure. So, that would be you, Ethan, Leanne…’
‘Yep.’
‘And ugh…Violet?’ he asked, his voice sounding somewhat strangled.
He was aiming for nonchalant, but you would never have guessed he had spent three years at a top drama school by how suspect he sounded.
‘Yes, I think so,’ Chloe said, sounding a little puzzled.
He knew his sudden interest in who was on the team seemed odd.
‘Is this because Violet had a cold?’ Chloe asked.
‘Violet has a cold?’
‘Yeah, she seems better today, but Saturday morning she was really poorly,’ Chloe said. ‘Poor thing. Looked really grey and sick. She thinks she picked up that cold that was going round.’
‘Really?’ Finn asked, trying to keep a straight face.
He hadn’t felt too bright himself on Saturday morning, but he had been picked up at 10am and fallen asleep in the back of the car as Geoff chauffeured him home.
‘Sounds horrible.’
They reached the easy-up green room, and Chloe stood back for Finn to enter. Inside, there was no sign of Jennifer yet. This might be as good a time as any to see Violet. Once filming got underway for the day, he wouldn’t have a moment alone.
He felt oddly nervous as he sat down, pulled out his phone, found the message thread and started typing.
I have something for you. Meet me in the green room.
He stared at the sent message, his right leg bouncing. Two little blue ticks lit up, then three little dots showed she was typing. He pushed down on his leg to stop it jiggling.
Two mins, she fired back.
Three minutes later, the fabric of the little tent was pulled back, and Violet slid inside. She was wearing dark, fitted jeans and a baggy black hoodie, but Finn found himself immediately distracted by the thought of what was underneath those clothes.
‘You summoned me?’ she said, but it was light, no hint of the antagonism they had regularly engaged in only weeks ago.
‘How’s your cold?’ Finn asked, standing and moving towards her.
‘My what?’
‘Feeling better?’
Violet’s brow crinkled.
‘I don’t have a—wait! Who have you been speaking to?’ she hissed. ‘Did Ethan say that?’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh, my God.’ She looked up at him, eyes wide. ‘I was feeling… delicate on Saturday after … after we….’ Her face went red. ‘Our… you know….’
Oh, he did indeed.
‘And I just made the excuse that I had a cold. What did Ethan say? How did it even come up?’
‘Actually, it was Chloe.’ He looked at Violet’s worried face and decided against sharing Chloe’s full assessment of Violet’s sickly state. ‘She just said you mentioned you had picked up the cold that was going round, that was all.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ Violet visibly relaxed.
‘Listen, Vi.’ Finn pulled the carrier bag out of his rucksack and handed it to her. Her eyes were like saucers. ‘I think these belong to you,’ he said in hushed tones.
Violet’s face flushed again. ‘Oh god,’ she said. ‘Is this… Are these?’
‘Your pants? Yes. Yes, that’s your pants in there.’
‘Shhh!’ Violet hissed, looking around and hiding her face behind the carrier bag as if someone might see them.
‘I can’t believe you brought them to work. I said to burn them.’
‘But they seemed like very nice black pants. That would be a waste,’ Finn said, grinning. ‘Though,’ he lowered his voice even more and leaned towards her. ‘They looked better when I was pulling them off you.’
Violet’s face, already pink, turned beetroot.
‘Oh my god…’ she groaned.
Finn stepped closer to her. He could feel the warmth coming off her in the little space and smell the faint rosemary scent of her shampoo. He instantly remembered how it felt to tangle his hands in those soft, honey-caramel curls, and he swallowed.
‘Violet,’ he said, in a low voice.
Violet jumped suddenly, and he hesitated and stepped back. She fumbled in the folds of her hoodie, which didn’t help his equilibrium either, then said, ‘Go for Violet.’
Oh.
The radio.
As she listened, he watched her blinking and nodding as she took in whatever information was being given.
He had a moment to just take her in, the serious expression on her face as she concentrated, the determined set to her mouth, the strands of hair escaping from some sort of messy updo. He flexed his hands by his sides.
After a moment, Violet said, ‘Copy that. I’ll be there.’
She looked down at the carrier bag in her hands.
‘Well… um, thanks. For these. I’d better get back.’ She was turning away as she spoke, and Finn knew he could miss his moment.
He reached for her arm. ‘Violet, wait. Please.’
Violet turned, glancing down at where his hand encircled her wrist. He let go immediately.
‘Sorry. Look, Violet, um…’ He swallowed and cleared his throat.
‘Do you need water?’ She started to reach for one of the bottles.
‘No, no.’ He shook his head. Her green eyes looked huge in the dim light of the easy-up.
‘Violet,’ he was barely speaking above a whisper. ‘The other night—’ He hesitated for a moment, and Violet jumped into the space he left.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, waving a hand. Her back was ramrod straight, but her eyes were fixed on the floor. ‘We don’t need to talk about it. It won’t be weird. We can be professional.’
‘No, you’re not listening to me,’ Finn said, clenching his hands by his sides. ‘I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Violet,’ he ran his hands through his hair, undoing some of the careful work of his makeup artist. ‘I don’t know about you, Violet, but I don’t often meet people I … like.’
Her head snapped up.
‘Contrary to what you might think, I am not beating women away with a stick. That night was…it wasn’t just a one-night stand.’ A faint blush spread across her cheeks. ‘Not for me, anyway. Unless you want it to be. It’s up to you.’
For an actor who spent his life communicating with words, he seemed to have lost most of his. He could hear how incoherent and hesitant he sounded. He tried again.
‘I would like the chance to see if there’s anything more between us.’
He opened his mouth to say something more, then snapped it closed again.
‘Finn,’ she began.
Her voice was soft and low, and a tiny line appeared between her eyebrows. Was that apology or pity on her face? He stiffened, waiting for the blow.
‘It was a…’ she smiled. ‘It was a great night. It really was. But neither of us needs this. I have to make this traineeship work. I’ve staked everything on this. And you,’ she gestured to his chest. ‘You have a lot riding on this, too. We shouldn’t risk all that for a … an experiment.’
‘An experiment?’ Finn frowned.
‘Finn, one night can’t wipe out the fact that until recently it was an effort to be civil to one another.’
‘Can’t it?’
His eyes locked on hers, and she shook her head.
‘Even if it could, if things go wrong, people will find out, and it will make things awkward. I might get pulled up by HR.’
‘Why would you be pulled up by HR?’
‘I don’t know. There might be rules about this sort of thing!’
‘What sort of thing?’
‘Fraternising with colleagues! Dalliances.’
‘Vi, I don’t think anyone has had a dalliance since 1950.’
‘You know what I mean. I don’t want to be the thirty-something trainee who shags a cast member, then they fall out, and she’s kicked off the show, and her career is destroyed.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I’ll have to go and pick apples in Australia after all.’
‘What? What’s Australia got to do with it?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, waving the question away with her hand.
He knew that he might not get this chance again. If Violet set her mind against it, that could be it.
‘One date,’ he said. ‘Fully clothed. Just two people eating food, drinking drinks and talking. That’s all the experiment needs to be. If at the end of that one date, we think there’s nothing there, we’ll leave it as a one-night stand. No harm done. Go back to business as usual.’
Violet fiddled with the carrier bag in her hands.
‘And if we don’t want to leave it?’ she asked quietly.
His pulse quickened. He was already sure he wouldn’t want to. Taking a breath, he replied as casually as he could.
‘We’ll go slow. We’ll be discreet. No crossover between work and personal lives.’
Holding his breath, he watched as Violet mulled it over.
‘One date,’ Violet said carefully. ‘That’s all I am agreeing to right now, yes?’
‘One date,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll take our time.’
For a moment, she just looked at him, then, finally, she gave a tiny nod.
Relief coursed through him.
‘But this is a secret, right? Strictly between us. We have to be discreet. Really discreet.’
Worry played across her face.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘No one will know but us.’