Chapter Nineteen

Tom’s film consisted of two sets of actors: younger and older versions of the husband and wife, plus supporting actors to play extras, children, and friends.

The crew he had put together was larger than I expected, but it quickly became apparent that they were all needed.

There was a makeup artist, a hairstylist who was also minding the wardrobe, a cameraman, and two helpers to do the heavy lifting and help with the set dressing.

I recognized both the actors. Daniel—who was playing Daniel!—from a popular period drama on TV and the woman, Anna, who was playing Sylvia. I’d seen her interviewed more than I’d seen her acting. She was a big name on the stage, and she had done a handful of very well-reviewed movies, just not blockbusters.

The popularity of both of the actors would certainly help the movie find an audience.

Since they had arrived the day before, both Dan and Anna had had long conversations with Tom, jointly and alone. They were discussing the film, the characters, and their visions for different scenes. Tom was a very collaborative director, eagerly listening to his actors and willing to be talked into an alternative scenario. Not that the disagreements were huge—just things such as how to best show the emotion a scene would require on screen. Some scenes ended up being slightly rewritten because of these discussions.

While we set about dressing the restaurant we had found to look like a 1950s French café, the makeup artist and hairdresser set about knocking ten to fifteen years off the actors’ ages—and sixty years off their style.

With checked tablecloths, framed period posters on the walls, vintage decals for the windows, antique light fittings, and old-fashioned tableware and glasses, we quite quickly had the set looking period. If we needed more, Tom had explained that we could always put a filter over the footage in postproduction.

I had my camera with me, so I documented the transformation for posterity . . . and possibly publicity near the time the film was due for release.

The rented steady-cam was not as big as I expected, but it was still expensive. Mike, the cameraman, was strapped into a contraption that would keep the camera stable while he moved during tracking shots. There was also a laptop set up so we could instantly transfer the footage via a memory card and see the film on a larger screen than the camera’s.

Tom and I set up the lighting. The actors waited patiently while we perfected everything and set up the shot.

With the first angle ready to shoot, I checked my own hair and makeup, then took my seat as an extra. I’d worn one of my 1950s A-line wraparound dresses, toning it down a little with a short vintage-looking cardigan. I’d done my hair in a period fashion, copying an Elizabeth Taylor style with a side part, large curls, and a mountain of hairspray.

I sat at one table with Viv, the makeup artist. Carol, the hairdresser, sat with Jim, one of the handymen. The other handyman, Karl, was playing the waiter. Tom used the clapper board I’d bought him, then called “Action!”

We didn’t have any lines. There was no sound being recorded—that would be added post production in the form of a voice-over and possibly music. We did have to remember our movements so we could re-create them in future takes.

Viv complimented my hair and makeup, although I felt they paled in comparison to her own look. Luckily, she was the one facing the camera. The waiter came to our table, and we pretended to order something. Behind me, Dan approached Anna and asked if he could sit with her.

We did two takes of the wide angle, then set up the first close-up shot. Later, we’d shoot the reverse angle. Once it was growing dark—it was still winter, so it would be dusk by about four—we’d film Dan entering the café and spying Anna. We had a large screen printed with a vintage Parisian scene, that we could erect outside the café to make it look like a Parisian street. Tom had dithered over whether or not to use a green screen, but this route saved him a few thousand.

By the time we broke for a late lunch, I was starting to understand why it takes so long to film just a few moments of footage. I was enjoying the experience, though.

While the others ate their sandwiches, I wandered over to Tom. He was eating as he reviewed the first two shots—and he was actually making a rough edit!

The footage looked pretty good, very authentic. I told him as much.

Before we resumed shooting, the actors came and reviewed the footage too.

Tom was so pleased with the first two shots that he was almost literally bouncing around as they filmed the reverse angle close-up.

The back of my head wasn’t needed in this shot, so I sat behind the camera and watched.

Setting the backdrop up outside the café proved quite time-consuming as each section had to match up perfectly with the one beside it.

It also didn’t look very realistic.

The window decals made it look like the café name was painted on the windows and door. They helped pull the eye from the backdrop, but Tom still wasn’t happy.

We rehearsed Dan coming in and filmed a couple of test shots. We transferred them to the laptop. The backdrop looked better on screen than in person, but it was far from perfect. We decided to shorten the shot to avoid having to use them, and just to start with Dan entering and closing the door behind him.

Tom still wasn’t happy. He was talking about blurring it in postproduction, but I thought it looked okay.

“Probably won’t hold up on a larger screen,” he said. He knew better than I did. “It’s only a few seconds, so if it is needed, it won’t break the bank—I hope.” He grimaced. I might have been getting my first glimpse of Tom the Perfectionist. I actually thought it was endearing to see how much he cared about getting it right, though I wondered how I’d feel about it by the end of filming. Darren had been a perfectionist too—but only in regards to everyone around him.

I was an extra in the next scene too, this time sitting at a table outside the window. I wore a beret, changed my cardigan for a different-colored one, and sat with Jim, sipping red wine—really blackcurrant cordial—from small wineglasses. I was side-on to the camera this take.

We filmed Dan entering a few different ways so Tom would have options. Then we filmed him approaching Sylvia. Then we filmed her reaction.

We were finished filming by six thirty, but we still had to put the shop back together again. Tom tried to dismiss most people as he couldn’t afford to pay overtime, but they all assured him they were off the clock. Between us, we put that place back together in just about thirty minutes.

The camaraderie that Tom had created on set with his enthusiasm and encouragement was wonderful. Everyone seemed to feel invested in turning in the best performance they could, not just for themselves, but for Tom and the production. Everyone good-naturedly mucked in and cheered when Tom thanked them all for a wonderful day’s work.

I’d been so excited when I got ready that morning, eager to see how the process worked. I wasn’t disappointed. It was detail-orientated and time-consuming work, and I was tired by the time we finished but while I knew this was Tom’s project, I also felt as if I had achieved something. I think we all did.

To save money on accommodation Dan, Anna, Viv, Carol, Jim, and Karl were staying with Diane. I had blurted out an invitation to put Tom up so they could use his room as well! He promised he’d sleep on an air bed in the living room, which was nice since it took expectations off me, but my offer wasn’t entirely altruistic. I was ready to take things further.

I would have to be the one to make the first move, though. I could tell that Tom was worried about pressuring me.

Diana had cooked for everyone, so after a noisy and laughter-filled dinner at her house, Tom and I walked the short distance to my home. He got his air bed out.

“You know, I trust you to keep your hands to yourself if you share my bed,” I offered. I might not be able to keep my hands to myself, but I didn’t tell him that.

“Darling, it’s a lovely offer but—”

“No. These are long days of filming. You need to be well rested.”

“Then thank you.” He gave me a grateful smile.

He got the laptop out and hooked it into my television so we could see the footage on a larger screen. I watched as he fiddled.

He was right about the backdrop—it was just too in focus for buildings that were supposed to be across the street. He tried a vintage filter, which yellowed the image slightly and applied some grainy effects. Then he tried black and white, a blurred “romantic” filter, and adding noise to the image. While I was sure an average audience member probably wouldn’t notice, as someone who knew the problem, I could tell those effects didn’t do anything to make the background more realistic.

“Just forget it for now,” I suggested. He seemed on the verge of losing sight of what we’d accomplished just because one small thing was wrong. “You’ve said it can be fixed with CGI, so leave it for now and edit the rest of the footage together.”

He did. I watched, impressed with how good it looked. Like a real movie!

“So will you edit it yourself?” I asked curiously.

“A rough cut. I’ll get a proper editor for the finished product, someone who can offer advice and who knows how to make transitions look seamless. It’s handy to be able to do this, though, so we can make sure we have everything we need.”

We decided to have an early night and headed to bed. It was a little awkward, but more because of nerves than true discomfort. We took turns in the bathroom. I changed into yoga pants and a big T-shirt.

Tom emerged in shorts and a T-shirt. He slipped into the opposite side of the bed and positioned his pillows around his injured leg so that we lay facing each other.

I moved closer. Tom kissed me, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pressing my mouth to his. I was gone, the void inside me yearning not just to be filled, but filled by him. By Tom. I have never wanted someone more.

But then he pulled away and offered me a warm smile.

“Good night, darling.”

Well, it was now or never. I was almost sure Tom wouldn’t reject me. I couldn’t see under the covers, but in every other way, it felt as if that kiss had turned him on almost as much as it had turned me on. But that almost was crippling. My overtures had been refused so many times in the past that it almost felt inevitable.

I forced a smile and leaned over for a quick kiss.

“Good night,” I said, then turned over and settled down.

Good night? Good-fucking-night? Was that seriously all I was going to say?

I was such a coward.

As I lay there chastising myself, I felt Tom fiddling with his pillows under the covers. Then he shifted closer and spooned me, his arm around my middle and evidence of his arousal pressing into my bum.

But I’d missed my chance, hadn’t I? Besides, we’d had a long day and had an early start tomorrow.

Ten minutes later, I kicked my covers off as I grew too hot. I vowed to find the courage to jump his bones soon because sleeping in all that clothing was not fun!

And now I was thinking about naked Tom! At this rate, I’d never get to sleep!

***

I was a little warm when I woke up the next day, but it was nice to wake in someone’s arms. It gave me warm and fuzzy feelings to think that Tom liked me enough to hold me all night long.

After checking the weather—it was supposed to be a sunny day—Tom decided to film the wedding scene that morning at the local church. He texted the cast and crew so they knew what we were doing, but he would also need more extras as wedding guests, so he texted friends who had agreed to help by keeping their schedules open for the week.

The day was nice and bright but, being January, it was obviously bitterly cold. I wore plenty of layers and opaque, nude-colored tights under my pretty dress, as well as a vintage pink coat Tom had hired from a costume warehouse. I should be plenty warm enough. Finally, there would be a large hat fit for a wedding, which would be angled to mostly obscure my face.

The men received faux sideburns and mustaches to help disguise their looks. Everyone had fun trying them on when they first arrived. Now obviously I was too professional to get caught up in those sorts of antics, and I absolutely did not laugh until I nearly cried while trying on a porn-star mustache!

We headed to Diane’s for breakfast so we could discuss plans. I wore a very attractive bib while we ate so my wedding outfit didn’t get dirty. I offered to help Diane with preparation or cleanup, but she shooed me away in no uncertain terms. Diane seemed delighted with the entire business, completely in her element. I teased her about really being a frustrated innkeeper, and she retorted that her efficiency simply came from being a mum for so many years. I joked that I would start calling her “Mother Hen,” and she laughed.

This church scene was to be of Daniel and Sylvia on their wedding day, running from the church, grinning, while we threw confetti on them. There was also a shot of an old car with “Just Married” written on the rear windscreen in shaving foam and the couple waving frantically at their friends as it drove away.

Tom had hired a white 1950s Austin-Healey from a vintage car hire place in Stowmarket. Well, he’d paid but I had hired it in my name, as I would be the driver. He also had a chauffeur’s hat and black coat for me to wear to help hide my identity.

As the extras began arriving, Dan and Anna headed upstairs to get their hair and makeup done for their wedding. Tom had ordered fifties-style clothing for everyone in a range of sizes, so people had some choice.

It was mostly the arts crowd who answered Tom’s call since those with regular nine-to-five jobs didn’t have the flexibility to just take a morning off. Eight others turned up, so that would be fourteen including the handymen, hair and makeup artists, and Diane.

It was organized chaos as everyone chose clothing and found a room to change in, but the mood was buoyant. We were all having fun.

I left them to it. We drove the classic car, loaded with our equipment and some supplies, the short distance to the church with Tom and the cameraman. Jim and Karl, the handymen, were waiting for us at the church, already changed into their vintage attire and ready to go.

We set up tables for the laptop—Tom had also hired an external battery to power it when its own battery died—two folding chairs, and a second table for refreshments when they came.

I stood in for Anna as I was about the same height. With Jim standing in for Dan, we practiced leaving the church, hand in hand, and running down the path. We then watched the footage back on the small camera screen. I suggested starting in a tight close-up on Anna and Daniel’s faces, then panning out to a wide angle as they ran through the confetti.

We did that, minus the confetti. It looked good, cinematically speaking—Jim and I were no actors. Tom suggested shooting it in slow motion to really capture the happiness and exuberance of the happy couple, which I thought was a brilliant idea. Finally, we placed small pieces of colored tape on the ground to mark where Anna and Dan needed to start and finish.

People were turning up now—but not our stars. We transferred our test footage to the laptop and took a look. The shot looked great now, but it would look even better when populated by the extras in their colorful wedding outfits and with colored confetti flying.

Dan turned up first, but then it always takes men less time to get ready than women. Karl became the most popular man on set when he appeared with large catering flasks of tea and coffee. Diane followed with the milk, sugar, and mugs.

Finally, Anna arrived. I felt really sorry for her since it was freezing and she couldn’t easily layer under her wedding dress, which was sleeveless! Hopefully she had some shapewear and a slip under there, which might help. She had also brought a big coat to wear between takes.

After walking them and the extras through what was needed, Tom filmed two rehearsals with people just pretending to throw confetti, and then he felt we were ready for the proper take.

Anna and Dan began by smiling at each other, and then they grinned and ran hand in hand down the path as planned while some of the extras began throwing confetti. Halfway down the path, Sylvia glanced over her shoulder at her waving wedding guests with a brilliant joyous laugh and sparkling eyes. She looked like a truly happy bride. Daniel looked like the proudest bridegroom ever.

I thought the scene looked marvelous, but we did another take just to be sure.

After a second take, Tom returned to the table to check that he had what he needed. Everyone else helped themselves to hot drinks to keep warm, chattering and laughing as they milled about.

Both takes had a little too much confetti thrown right in front of the actor’s faces, obscuring them too much. The slow motion seemed to work well, though, but they were running perhaps a little too quickly. Tom suggested that a fast jog rather than a sprint might look better.

We did two more takes with only half the extras throwing confetti and slower running, and then Tom examined the footage again.

“Looks perfect,” he said, looking to me and Mike for confirmation.

“Looks great,” Mike agreed.

I might suggest he dial up the color saturation in postproduction, but the shot looked great, so I smiled and nodded.

“Right. Well, let’s move on with the car shot. Then I can send most of these cold souls home! You find the ribbons and shaving cream,” he told me. “I’ll send Karl and Jim back to the house to start dressing the dining room set.”

I could see that Diana had started sweeping up the confetti. Although we’d bought a biodegradable brand, sweeping it up was a condition of being allowed to film there. She soon had offers of help, so I was happy that she wasn’t being left to do it alone.

I began rummaging in the bags below the table, but just as I found the can of shaving foam, shouting from behind made me drop it. I flinched, nearly knocking my head on the underside of the table. When I heard who was speaking, I froze.

“You lied to me!”

“Evelyn, please—” Tom sounded pleading, placating.

“You cheating, lying, son of a bitch!” She cut him off, and the sound of a slap echoed through the cool, crisp morning.

I sat up slowly, unwilling to make myself a target but feeling too vulnerable with my back so exposed.

“Calm down, Evie. We can talk about this.”

“Talk about you cheating on me with that little whore?”

I heard a weird sound, possibly Tom catching another attempted slap. My stomach flipped.

What was she doing here? Why now? We were having such a good day—why did she have to ruin it?

“I didn’t—” Tom began reasonably.

“You did! You swore to me you were just friends, but now all the world knows you were fucking her when you were supposed to be fucking me!”

Dammit, Tom didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve this!

“Where is the little bitch-whore?”

Now I could feel my anger rising, overtaking my fear.