in Mapleville, you’ve found your place.
You’re always at home with Maple Gold.
They sang the same verse three times, as if stuck on repeat. Their words slowed, then sped back up, making them sound like they’d inhaled helium.
Greta stared at them. First the chauffeur, and now this? Was it due to her misuse of the coffee?
Her palms moistened as she took a first step onto the red carpet. Her ankles wobbled in her perilously high shoes. As she glanced around her, all she could see were the bright lights and a sea of people. The scene made her feel dizzy, as if she’d just stepped off a carousel after too many turns.
‘Anything wrong?’ Nora said. ‘Keep moving, darling.’
Greta smiled around stiffly at her fans. ‘Why am I here, exactly?’ she asked from the corner of her mouth.
Nora squinted at her in bewilderment. ‘You’ve won the Gold Star People’s Award, of course.’
‘I did? What’s that?’
‘An award voted for by the people. You won it for your blockbuster.’
Greta stopped dead. ‘I made a film?’ It was something she’d always wanted to do, but she couldn’t recall a thing about making it. This was like a dream of the perfect life she wanted. ‘What is it about . . . ?’
But Nora had already turned away, relishing the attention, as if the crowd were here for her, too.
Over the years, Greta had attended numerous award ceremonies for meaningless accolades, mostly because she’d been invited, promised an extravagant goody bag, or assured by Nora that it would boost her profile. The last invitation had been eight or nine years ago, for the grand opening of a department store’s new floor. All Greta had to do was show up, pose, then wave and smile for the cameras while holding up a perfume bottle or caressing a pure wool rug.
She’d forgotten how embarrassing it could be to smile, wave and generally be on show for the public. Everyone was looking at her like she was a goddess rather than a normal person.
‘Greta! Over here,’ someone shouted.
Another person yelled, ‘Greta, we love you!’
Someone grabbed her arm, and she swerved out of their way.
‘Smile,’ yet another voice urged, just before the flash of a camera sent bright spots dancing behind her eyes.
Greta blinked hard. She twinkled her fingers in a cautious wave, attempting to stay calm. Trying to soak up the adulation. Her chest felt sore and squashed, as if a rhino had sat on her. A feeling deep inside told her that she didn’t belong here, that she was a fraud.
The same thing had happened while filming the Maple Gold commercials, too. Back then, Greta had smiled and sipped coffee under the blazing lights, convinced that someone would discover she was an imposter and kick her off the set. With every accolade, every compliment or achievement, she’d never been able to shake the feeling she didn’t truly deserve any of it.
Heading toward the town hall, she concentrated on not tripping over the hem of her gown. She shook hands, murmured polite thank-yous, and accepted bouquets thrust into her arms. She passed the flowers to Nora, freeing her up to sign autographs.
Greta’s heart leaped when she spotted Jim and Lottie waiting by the entrance to the town hall. Jim waved, and Lottie smiled proudly like she couldn’t believe how cool her mum was. Millie was there, too, wearing a supportive smile.
‘Hi,’ Greta called out to them. Stepping off the red carpet, she tried to weave her way toward them.
But Nora had other ideas, gripping Greta’s arm. ‘You can see your family later. This evening is all aboutyou.’With a firm tug, she steered her back toward a mass of cameras.
Greta glanced back ruefully over her shoulder, feeling lost as her husband, daughter, and Millie were swallowed by the crowd.
Nora led the way inside the town hall, then toward the grand staircase. ‘We’re going up to the ballroom now, and you should pause at the top of the stairs. Think beautiful thoughts, wave, and smile like you mean it. Then we’ll head backstage.’ She dropped back for a few moments, leaving Greta on her own.
From Greta’s elevated position, the people below looked like the roses in Millie’s garden. Even though many faces were looking up at her, she felt very much alone.
She plastered on a smile and posed while flashbulbs fired around her.
Afterward, Nora reappeared. ‘Follow me,’ she ordered, escorting Greta through into a maze of corridors.
The scent of polished wood and old velvet hung in the air, and chatter buzzed from behind swathes of curtain. At the back of the space, a huge screen hung, blank and dark silver.
