June
On a glorious afternoon at the beginning of summer, Connie and I stand on the lawn in front of the house watching the crew strike the marquee on the front lawn.
‘You OK, kid?’ she asks me with a sharpish elbow to the arm.
‘I don’t know.’ I want to tell her how I feel, but the words are stuck in my throat. I think about the person I was before I got the letter in my post box about the film. Angry, directionless, wallowing in self-pity. How this project was a risk I needed to take – to either kick-start my life or go down in flames. ‘I just feel a little sad, that’s all.’
‘I get it,’ she says. ‘We were part of something, weren’t we? In a small way.’
I laugh. ‘Yeah, we were. Though most of the time I felt like I was in the way – tiptoeing round my own house to avoid making noise or breaking some expensive piece of kit.’
The last month has been one of the best, and most stressful, of my life. The film crew worked nearly round the clock to get back on schedule, and even Richard and his bosses could not find fault with the way things went. For me, the high point was definitely the sunny day in late-May when the bluebells were out in the orchard and the decision was made that the light was right to film scene 547(A) – ‘young Victoria runs to her mother’.
I felt like I’d swallowed an entire family of butterflies as I tripped out to the field with Connie, Simon, Jack, Hannah, and two of the mums from the school that I invited over to watch the filming. I’d seen the cameras, the cables, the giant lighting umbrellas and sunshades, and the host of people in attendance – costumers, make-up artists, hair stylists, camera and sound people, assistants, and assistants of assistants many times during the filming of various scenes, but this was so much different.
Katie came out of the garden, walking slowly next to Luke who was leaning down, talking to her in a low voice, gesturing with his hands.
The woman playing Victoria’s mother, a portly, friendly-faced northern woman called Joyce, in full make-up and period costume, patted me on the arm. ‘She’ll be brilliant, mark my words.’
‘Thanks.’ I felt like I might be sick.
Katie gave me a shy smile as she walked past. She was wearing a rose pink muslin dress with a white apron and a lace cap on her head. Her hair was done in a long, dishevelled plait down her back. She looked beautiful and otherworldly, and I felt like I might burst with pride and nerves. Connie nudged me in the ribs. As soon as Katie walked by, I took the flask and put it to my lips. But I needn’t have worried.
Luke and Joyce walked her through the scene four times, and she practised saying her line, ‘Oh, Mother, do I have to come in now?’ at least seven more times.
The camera and lighting people made her pause at various points to make adjustments to the giant sunshades and reflectors. Jack got a bit overexcited at the whole thing and wet himself, and Simon ended up taking him back to the house. Connie filmed the whole thing on her phone so he didn’t miss out.
Finally, the cameras were ready to roll. The assistant director clacked the clapperboard and the shoot began. It took five takes before everyone was satisfied – not a lot compared to many of the other scenes. It was only when it was over and everyone started to clap that I realised how hard I was gripping Connie’s hand. I let go, and clapped along with the others, blowing Katie a kiss. I managed to avoid the tears I felt welling up inside of me – but only just.
Afterwards, some of the crew members came up and got Katie to sign their autograph books. I knew they were just being nice, but she was so happy and proud that the tears did come at that point. I was glad that no matter what happens, she had this moment. (OK, I was also a little scared that after this, she might really decide to pursue this acting thing – but that’s a worry I’ll have to leave for another day).
Now, though, as we stand in the garden watching the marquee come down and the men loading the vans with props and equipment, I can feel the tears close to the surface again.
Connie puts her hand on my arm and gives it a painful squeeze. ‘You were right all along, Lizzie. The film was just the thing you needed – what we all needed.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘And just so you know, I couldn’t have got through any of this without you and Simon. I know I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate your being here.’
‘Oh, none of that now.’ She smiles, and I can tell she’s chuffed to be acknowledged. I make a mental note to do it more often now that things are coming to an end.
An end…
My vision blurs into a murky green haze, as it’s done occasionally ever since the day I dragged Phillipa up from dark depths of the lake. I blink hard and the memory goes back into hiding. Instead, I catch sight of Luke coming through the garden gate and walking towards us.
‘Hello, ladies,’ he says, ‘I’ll bet you’ll be glad to see the back of this lot.’ He gestures towards the open door of the house and the trail of people carrying out furniture and props like busy ants.
‘I will be,’ Connie says. ‘But right now, I’m going to get another croissant before they disappear too. I’m going to miss those food tables.’
‘Me too,’ I say.
Luke laughs. ‘Well, sorry about that.’ He turns to Connie. ‘But it might cheer you up to know that I’ve got a message to forward to you. They want to set up a meeting.’
For almost the first time since I’ve known her, my mother-in-law seems at a loss for words. ‘Really?’ she croaks, her face pale.
‘Yes. Next week, if possible. It’s perfect for their Christmas list, apparently.’
‘Oh my God, I must tell Simon. Thank you!’
Before he can even react, she pulls Luke to her in an embrace and gives him a kiss on the cheek. He squirms like a kid trying to escape an over-affectionate maiden aunt. She lets him go, turns, and rushes across the lawn leaving us standing there.
‘What was that about?’ I say.
‘Connie’s project.’ He wipes his cheek. ‘I think it’s OK to tell you now that there’s been good news – she was too embarrassed before. Swore me to secrecy.’
‘Embarrassed? Connie?’ I raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this something to do with the book she’s been writing? And your “exchange of favours”?’
‘What? You know about the book?’ He looks at me in surprise. ‘She said you didn’t have a clue – her words.’
‘No, but I suspected it was something like that. All those hours holed up in that caravan. And once I caught a glimpse of her screen.’
‘Right. Well, she told me about it – about a month ago, I think. I was sceptical, of course. But since she’s been so instrumental in helping me out, I wanted to thank her. I gave her the name of an e-book publisher friend, on a no-guarantees basis. My friend read it, and loved it. You could have a budding author on your hands.’
‘Great… I think. It will be fun to have a new project. Maybe I can help her this time, the way she’s supported me. If she wants it, of course. And I’ll need something – now that all this is over.’ I quickly wipe away a stray tear, but he’s already noticed.
‘Lizzie?’ he says, frowning, ‘are you OK?’
‘I just feel a little sad, that’s all. Don’t you ever feel that way when you finish a film, Luke?’
He lifts his hand and traces the line of the tear on my cheek, his eyes deep and thoughtful. ‘I’ve been doing this for a long time,’ he says. ‘So I’m not sure sad is the right word. Every project is special in some way. Each cast and crew feels like a family. And there are little stories to tell, little things to laugh about and remember afterwards. This project, though…’ he shakes his head.
‘You’re lucky you survived it,’ I joke.
‘Something like that.’ He strokes my hair. ‘Besides,’ he adds, ‘it’s not over for me – not by a long way. There’s a lot of post-production work that will take place now. I’ll be involved in all of it. Then there’s the publicity, the premieres – the interviews and the travel.’ I can feel him tense up as he speaks of it. ‘I know I should be grateful – I mean, most people would look at me and think I have the best job in the world.’
‘That’s true.’ His words give me zero comfort.
‘But once the creative bit is over, I find the rest of it quite tedious. Does that sound awful?’
‘A little.’ I laugh.
He smiles and puts his arms around my waist. ‘And normally at the end of a project, I don’t have anything to look forward to. Just returning to my empty little flat in Primrose Hill.’
‘Maybe you should get a cat,’ I joke.
He manoeuvres me into the hedge just out of sight of the others. Sparks shoot down my spine like fireworks as he presses his body against mine. ‘That’s not quite what I had in mind.’
His kiss overwhelms me, filling me up until I’m overflowing. And there’s no room for the past, no room for the future, no room for anything beyond this moment – no room for anything but him.