Chapter 34
Finn
Finn was waved through security at the entrance to the wrap party and walked through a huge floral arch where people kept stopping to take selfies.
The venue beyond was cavernous. It was a converted church, now used for wedding parties and private events.
Red uplighters cast the vaulted ceiling in a deep red glow, and a DJ was set up in the space that was once the altar.
Bolts of red cloth, balloons and streamers decked the walls and flecks of glitter hung in the air.
Looking around for a moment, he panicked.
He didn’t recognise anyone. Then, from a booth across the room, he saw Kathy waving at him, and he began to press through the crowd towards her, glancing at faces as he went.
Having spent months seeing people in a kind of uniform every day—typically black utility clothing, hair up, or baseball caps on—the shiny, glittery crowd around him felt momentarily like strangers.
Anna, who he now remembered from college, was looking very chic in a long black dress, her long, pale hair hanging down her back in waves.
She was leaning against the ornate wooden bar and speaking animatedly, hands flying, as one of the guys from the locations team gazed at her with rapt attention.
Before he could reach Kathy, someone grabbed his arm, and he turned to see Mark, who clapped him on the shoulder and steered him over to the champagne bar. From the red flush on Mark’s face, he had been here for a while already.
Finn and Violet had agreed to arrive at the wrap party separately. Even though they had told the producers and key crew members about their relationship, and they had now wrapped, Violet had said she still felt that they should be discreet, and he respected her wishes.
After about an hour at the party, he still hadn’t seen her.
He was deep in conversation with Ed, who was shouting over the music about his upcoming projects, when he caught a glimpse of wild honey-coloured hair near the bar.
He strained to see, but there was a crowd of people in the way.
Ed was saying something about the death of independent cinema when a group of people shuffled off toward the dance floor, and he suddenly saw Violet chatting to Rachael. He didn’t hear another word Ed said.
She was wearing a midnight blue dress, completely cut away at the back, exposing acres of smooth skin.
The satin fabric skimmed over her hips and fell to just above her knees.
Her hair was piled on top of her head, soft strands escaping, the back of her neck exposed.
As Ed talked about the difficulty of competing with the streaming services, all Finn could think about was how her skin felt like silk under his fingers and how her body moulded to his.
He watched as Jake approached the two women, hugging first Rachael and then Violet, his fingers splaying across Violet’s exposed back. Finn clenched his jaw as Ed talked about investor relationships.
‘Hey, Finn!’ Emma joined him and Ed. ‘Finn, you really did a sterling job. The execs are already raving about the early cuts of the series. It’s looking very good.
’ She grabbed his arm, swaying slightly and leaned in.
‘We’ve had initial feedback from the streamer about the rough cuts, and they love it.
’ Her eyes were gleaming. ‘They are over the moon. They love Nathanial and love the relationship with Beatrice. So, well done.’ She grabbed Finn’s hand and pumped it up and down. ‘Really well done.’
Finn grinned broadly and felt a little weight shift off him.
‘An old colleague of mine called me the other day,’ Emma continued.
‘Do you know Terri Marsh?’ Finn opened his mouth to reply, but it seemed Emma’s question was purely rhetorical.
‘Anyway,’ she barrelled on, ‘I was catching up with Terri recently, and she’s been approached to direct that new limited series, When the Light Fades. You heard of it?’
Torn between nodding to appear in the know, and being honest and shaking his head, Finn ended up rolling his head around, like a warm-up in the gym.
It didn’t matter—Emma wasn’t waiting for an answer to that, either.
‘Well,’ she leaned in. ‘They haven’t cast it yet. She was looking for ideas and recommendations, so I put you forward.’ She jabbed Finn in the arm. ‘Expect a call.’
Finn’s mouth fell open, and relief and gratitude swelled his chest. He sucked in a deep breath.
It was going to be okay. Even if there wasn’t a second series, he had reasons to feel hopeful about what came next.
He should be able to keep mum at Gable Hall.
He had been to see her that afternoon, where she was all settled back in after coming out of hospital a week before.
The assessment indicated that her dementia was progressing and was impacting her mobility, so the nursing home had updated her care plan accordingly.
Despite the moments of confusion and memory loss, his mum seemed content and relaxed.
She had known who he was for part of the visit, and he told her once again about his work on Huxton Bridge.
She hadn’t remembered this from the many previous times he had told her, so he put lots of enthusiasm into the retelling, as if he was imparting the news for the very first time, so that she could properly enjoy her pride and pleasure in her son doing well.
Sitting outside in the car after the visit, he had cried.
Cried with gratitude for the fantastic and indefatigable mother she had been to him and Suzy, cried because they were slowly losing her, cried because at least she was still here with them, and because he was in such a fortunate position to have her at Gable Hall.
Now, he let out a heavy breath.
‘Emma, thank you so much, that’s… that’s amazing, thank you.’
She shrugged, like it was nothing. ‘You did a great job. Wait!’ She said suddenly, blinking at Ed. ‘Where’s his present? We got you something, Finn. Don’t want you to think we see you only as the job. It’s been great getting to know Finn the man, as well as Finn the actor.’
She punched something into her phone. Finn, starting to feel like he was drunk by association and struggling to understand what was happening between the loud music and slightly slurred words, nodded along gamely.
‘Aha!’ Emma said a moment later, as someone from the production team appeared with a wrapped gift.
‘Oh, wait,’ Finn protested as the parcel was pushed into his hands. ‘You didn’t need to do this, really. You’ve already been so generous, and—’
‘Open it!’ Emma and Ed chorused.
‘Okaaaayy.’ Finn pulled back the paper and ribbon, revealing a large hardback book. Turning it over, the title read, Sleep Tight: The Evolution of Beds Throughout History. On the cover was a photograph of a huge, ornately carved four-poster bed.
Finn stared at it, nonplussed.
‘Open it up,’ Emma’s vodka and lemonade swung dangerously close to the book. Finn obliged, and inside saw a scrawled dedication. ‘To Finn, Don’t let the bed bugs bite! Happy reading and sweet dreams! L.J. Coleman.’
Who was L.J. Coleman?
‘We got it signed by the author, special edition,’ Emma was saying. ‘He said he doesn’t get many requests for signed copies.’
Finn was struggling for words. ‘I…’
‘It’s because you like beds,’ Ed explained. ‘Jake told us about how it was your fascination with beds that got you stuck in the bedroom at Mauden Hall that day.’
Everything slotted into place.
‘In the back here, there’s an index,’ Ed said. ‘You can see a list of all the stately homes and places where you can go and view the beds featured in the book! If we get a season two, you can let us know which ones you’ve been able to go and see.’
Finn, overcome by the wildly misplaced thoughtfulness and effort that had gone into the gift, opened his arms and hugged Ed and Emma. They squeezed him back, then headed off to the bar for top-ups, and Finn stared at the cover of the glossy hardback.
He was that guy now. For life. The weird interest in historical beds guy. He could expect every present from anyone involved in Huxton Bridge to be given with the preface, this is because we know you like old beds and stuff.
Flipping open the cover, he re-read the dedication.
He thought of that day with Violet, stuck in that room together.
He could still remember the terrified look on her face when Jake demanded to know what had happened.
Jumping in with the nonsense about his peculiar hobby had kept her from getting fired and given them this time together.
He turned the book over in his hands. Perhaps he would develop a lifelong interest in antique beds after all.
Glancing up, he saw Violet moving towards him through the pulsing, dancing crowd, and smiled. She grinned back as she slipped sideways between gyrating bodies until she was at his side.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled.
Shielded by the throng of bodies in the crowded room, Violet laced her fingers into his. He looked down at her in surprise, and she just smiled back at him.
‘Violet, you do know this is against the rules?’ he said with a squeeze of her fingers. ‘Are you drunk already?’
She laughed and shook her head, holding her wine aloft. ‘Nope, first drink. I just think I’d like to worry a little less and trust that things will work themselves out.’
He held up the book. ‘Look what Emma and Ed gave me.’
She peered at it in the dim light, looking puzzled for a moment, then burst out laughing.
‘Nooo, they didn’t!’
she howled.
‘It has a dedication and everything.’
He opened the book, and Violet read it, wiping at her eyes. Then she placed a hand on his chest, leaned up and kissed him. Although the party was in full swing, no one was paying them much attention.
‘Thank you, Finn. For making up that ridiculous story and saving both our skins.’
‘We have to go and visit some of these places, you know, Vi, to look at beds. They’re going to ask me about this if we all meet again on a second season.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘This is my hobby for life. Or at least as long as Huxton Bridge lasts.’
Violet swallowed down her laughter. ‘I’ll go with you. It’s the least I can do.’
‘Vi,’ he ducked his head, his face close to hers. ‘I love you. Do you know that?’
The remains of the smile slipped off her face, and she nodded solemnly.
‘I had a sneaking suspicion.’ She kissed him again and, with her lips hovering under his, murmured, ‘And that’s good to know, because I love you too.’
Finn pulled her in close, splaying his hands against the bare skin of her back. ‘Well, thank god it’s mutual, otherwise that would have been really awkward for me…’
Violet laughed and grinned up at him, strands of hair already working free from the updo.
‘And it only took us eighteen years to get here,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We first met when we were sixteen. That’s eighteen years ago.’ He swayed her to the music and dropped his head so he could speak directly into her ear. ‘I liked you back then, you know.’
‘You did not!’
Finn grinned. ‘I did. You were so serious and ambitious, and you drove me nuts, but I also sort of…liked you. You knew what you wanted, and you were feisty going after it.’
Violet gazed at him, her expression unreadable for a moment.
‘You’re right. I did know what I wanted, and I worked hard to get it. I think I forgot that sometimes these last few months.’
He watched as she glanced around them at their shiny, tipsy colleagues, then she held out her hand and grinned up at him.
‘Dance with me, Finn.’