Greta really didn’t want to get covered in mud, or bake bread in the wild. Was it wrong to hold out for something that made her feel like she mattered, in the way she used to?
Her shoulders fell. ‘Remember when I used to get marriage proposals and red roses from strangers on Valentine’s Day? Women across the UK used to flock to their hairdresser, asking fora Greta.It wasn’tthatlong ago.’
‘Of course, I remember,’ Nora said. ‘Blond highlights and feathery layers weresoflattering for that era. I believe caffeine shampoo works well for mature hair, and a few tweakments could freshen things up a little? A brighter, bolder you?’ She raised a hopeful eyebrow.
Greta suspected Nora was a fan of injectables because her forehead was as smooth as a glass snow globe. ‘I’m more than just my appearance,’ she snapped.
‘I know. But, maybe a little face yoga?’ Nora said quickly, standing up. ‘You stay right here, and I’ll ask my team if they know of any bigger jobs coming up. They keep their ears to the ground.’ She swept out of the room, leaving Greta sitting alone.
Greta glanced around at all the thank-you cards pinned to Nora’s corkboard, her crystal Agent of the Year trophies, and her gold Montblanc pen. It was a long time since she’d had reason to send Nora a thank-you card.
A few minutes later, Nora returned. ‘Sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘My team don’t have any suitable jobs right now. I’ll keep you posted.’
Greta lifted her chin, trying not to look disheartened. ‘Great. I look forward to hearing from you.’ She reached for her coat.
Nora picked up her wand, pressing a finger against the points of the star. ‘Just before you go. Thereissomething to tell you . . .’ she said rather cagily.
Greta’s ears pricked. ‘Yes?’
‘I bumped into Jim recently. I believe he’s had an offer for a men’s hair product campaign. He’s asked me for some advice . . .’
Greta narrowed her eyes. Jim hadn’t mentioned this to her. ‘Why would he askmyagent for advice?’ she said. ‘He’s got his own.’
‘Just fact-gathering about the company, I believe. Jim knew I’d worked with them before. Thought I should mention it, in case you wondered. For the sake of transparency . . .’
‘How could I wonder about something I didn’t know anything about?’ Greta felt a twinge of cramp in her belly and tried to rub it away. Nora wasn’t her private property, but this felt like an unwelcome intrusion from Jim, especially given their personal situation. ‘How can Jim still find work, but I can’t?’ Nora shifted in her chair. ‘The acting world is a mystery. Some actors just seem to get chosen . . . and some don’t.’
‘It’s a profession, not a lucky dip.’ Greta bristled. It suddenly struck her that many actors were like bottles of milk shoved to the back of the fridge, forgotten and slowly going off. Only a lucky few rose like cream to the top.
She stood and shoved her chair back under Nora’s desk. Her hands shook as she fastened her coat. ‘I have to go.’
Nora furrowed her brow, as if not understanding what she’d done wrong. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Sure. Everything’s absolutely marvellous. You can’t find jobs for me, but can help my husband score a new contract.’
‘It’s just business, darling . . .’
Greta didn’t want to hear any more. She strode out of Nora’s office.
‘Darling, come back. Let’s talk this through.’ Nora’s words followed her along the corridor. ‘GiveBack to the Landsome more thought . . .’
But Greta sped through the reception area, pushing through the building’s heavy glass doors. She stepped into the chilly winter air, her breath rasping as she jogged toward her car.
She had known the bitter truth for a while, but had refused to acknowledge it. Now it hurt like splinters of wood wedged under her fingertips—that she was no longer relevant in the industry that had once been her entire life.
Greta didn’t just feel like old milk. She had gone positively sour.
Chapter 3
HAD NORA BETRAYEDher? It certainly felt that way. After more than twenty years of shared dreams and countless late-night talks, Greta had seen Nora as her rock, her own personal cheerleader she didn’t want to share with Jim.
She knew nothing about Jim’s contract and wondered if he’d simply forgotten to tell her, or if he’d chosen not to. They’d always had each other’s backs when it came to work.
Greta yanked on her seat belt and called him.
Jim didn’t usually pick up his phone, letting his voicemail kick in instead. There was no mistaking the rich, smooth tone that used to turn her knees to jelly. Now it just made her heart ache, and she hung up before the beep.
Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she wanted to believe their trial separation was just a pause in their marriage, not the beginning of the end. However, with their New Year’s Eve deadline looming, and Jim shutting her out more and more, it felt less like a reset and more like things unravelling.
