After plugging in her phone, she waited until it had enough charge before she called Nora.
‘Nora. I’m so sorry,’ Greta said, flopping onto her sofa. ‘I messed up. I got caught up in something and missed theCoffee Morning Crewshow. My phone died and I didn’t have a contact number to let them know—’
Nora inhaled sharply. ‘I can’t believe you missed the recording. You got caught up inwhat,exactly? The producer just called me, saying you never showed up. It was frankly embarrassing. This was a prime opportunity, and you left them hanging.’
Her words stung, making Greta feel even smaller. ‘It was personal stuff. I struggled to escape from . . . something. Before I knew it, time had passed, and my phone was dead.’
‘Personal stuff?’ Nora asked, her voice softening a tiny amount. ‘Is everything okay? This isn’t just about the show, darling. It’s about you and your career.’
Greta hung her head. She was sure that, once upon a time, her mistake would’ve been enough for Nora to strike her off the agency’s books. She tried to summon some of Millie’s cool, unflappable poise, but it felt like trying to grasp smoke.
‘I know. I screwed up, and it’s difficult to explain,’ she said. ‘It won’t happen again. I swear. How can I make it up to you?’ Nora clicked her tongue. ‘Well, there is one thing you can do for me, darling. The producer ofBack to the Landhas been back in touch. I believe he has some links with Tobias Blake. A celeb has pulled out last minute, and theyreallywant you for the show. It’s only one day’s filming, and . . .’ Her voice firmed. ‘It’s the least you can do for me in the circumstances.’
Greta ran a hand down her jeans, still damp from the rain. She had scared Jim and Lottie, and disappointed Nora. It looked like she might have to find six months’ more rent. Could filmingBack to the Landoffer her some kind of redemption?
Feeling like she didn’t really have a choice, she murmured, ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’
‘Excellent. The right decision. I’ll let them know,’ Nora said briskly. ‘Oh, and another thing—my jeweller called. Leonard’s managed to fix Lottie’s bracelet, and it’s ready to collect. Perhaps we could grab a coffee at Brewtique the morning after next? We can run through a fewBack to the Landdetails, then pick up the bracelet afterward.’
Greta nodded. ‘Sure. Thank you, Nora.’
After hanging up, she felt sore all over, like she’d been beaten with a meat tenderiser. Her neck cricked as she leaned back and stared up at the tiny cracks in the ceiling.
Yet even as her guilt simmered, she couldn’t deny some of the precious moments in Mapleville had been worth it—the reassuring way Jim’s hands circled her waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest as she leaned into him.
She bit her lip, needing to believe her time there had been real. She already missed Lottie’s laugh and Jim’s easy, loving manner.
Greta scolded herself for feeling listless during the picnic with Millie, Jefferson, Jim, and Lottie. She’d give anything to be back in their company right now—lazing on the grass, soaking up the sunshine, and savouring the delicious food. It felt like reminiscing about a favourite faraway holiday from the past.
Meanwhile, in Longmill, Christmas was fast approaching, and she hadn’t even dug out her decorations yet. Her heart sank at the thought of putting up her Christmas tree alone, without Jim to help place the angel on the top.
Greta looked around for something to do to stop herself from dwelling on her regrets.
Her eyes landed on a shoebox sitting on the sideboard that she’d been meaning to sort through for months.
Sinking cross-legged on the carpet, she pulled the box down and blew off a layer of dust. Particles danced in the air as she took out a handful of old scripts, photos and mementoes.
She sifted through them, and a group shot from one of the Maple Gold commercials caught her eye. There in the photo, casually leaning against the set wall, was Tobias Blake. He’d only had a bit part that day, sticking around for maybe half an hour. Back then, Greta had been too awestruck to utter a single word to him. His team had forbidden anyone from approaching him.
‘As if he’d ever give me an award?’ she said with a brittle laugh.
As she dug deeper in the box, a photo of her mum fell onto her lap.
Marjorie had once visited the set, too, her eyes shining with pride as she watched Jim, Lottie, and Greta in action. Although it was just a coffee commercial, Marjorie had treated the occasion with magnitude, as if witnessing a West End production ofTwelfth Night.
A sudden wave of emotion washed over Greta. Tears stung her eyes and her lips trembled. ‘Oh, Mum . . .’ She sank back on her heels, clasping the photo tightly to her chest. ‘I wish you were here to talk to. I need you to help me make sense of everything. I miss you so much it hurts.’
She bowed her head, letting her tears fall freely, feeling them slip through her fingers.
When her phone rang, she wiped her eyes, shaking as she reached for it on the sofa. Her hopes flared when she saw Jim’s name on the screen.
‘Jim,’ she whispered, trying to hold herself together.
‘Greta? I’ve just dropped Lottie off at school,’ he said, sounding weary. ‘Now we’re talking alone, what really happened last night? Where did you stay?’
Greta let her head drop forward, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. He sounded low, even hurt, and she wanted to reach out to him. But her words lodged in her throat like a swallowed boiled sweet.
When she didn’t answer, Jim pressed, ‘Were you with someone else?’
