Greta nodded. ‘Sure.’
Jim entered the studio, twiddling knobs and flicking switches like an astronaut preparing a rocket for take-off. Energized music suddenly boomed around the place.
‘Sherpoli Shoes,’ Jim’s rich, confident voice rang out. ‘Waterproof, stylish, rugged. Wear them anytime, any day, anywhere, any weather . . .’
‘It sounds really good,’ Greta said when he re-emerged. She flashed him a wry smile. ‘If only we spoke to each other with the same passion.’
Jim laughed, as if she’d made a joke. ‘Glad you like it. Do you fancy a coffee? I’ve got some soup, too, if you want lunch . . .’ She glanced away. ‘Coffee is just fine.’
He returned a few minutes later with two mugs. Greta inhaled the familiar aroma of Maple Gold. The smell had once accompanied some of their best moments together—secret smiles on set, late-night coffee, and lazy mornings in bed. She’d love to have those connections back again.
They sat on opposite sofas, and Greta raised her cup to her lips. ‘I saw Nora earlier,’ she said. ‘Apparently, you’ve been talking business together . . .’
Jim scratched his head. ‘Business? I asked her a few questions about a contract, that’s all.’
‘Yes, she told me.’ Greta sipped her coffee. ‘It felt like I was the last to know.’
‘Oh, sorry. I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I was going to tell you when I had more details.’ Jim cleared his throat. ‘A hair company approached my agency with an interesting proposal, but I don’t know much about them. I remember you mentioned Nora had worked with them before, so when I ran into her, I asked a few questions. She was helpful and said I could keep in touch.’
His explanation made sense, though Greta still felt relegated to the periphery of this life, when she’d once been its beating heart. ‘Does the hair company know about your transplant?’ she asked, a touch snippily.
Jim touched his crown. ‘Yeah, it’s best to be honest, and a lot of guys look after themselves these days. I told them it was confidence thing, as well as for work.’ He paused. ‘If you don’t want me to carry on chatting to Nora, that’s fine. I don’t want to tread on your toes.’
Greta closed her eyes, trying to push her frustration away.
Jim stood up, crossed the room and sat down beside her, resting his arm casually across the back of the sofa. ‘If I get the job, the money will help cover my rent somewhere else, when Martin comes back,’ he said. ‘Every little bit helps.’
Greta brushed a piece of fluff off her jeans, processing his words. ‘So, does that mean you’re planning to live on your own? After . . . ?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Jim interrupted, pursing his lips. ‘I thought we were taking things one step at a time, talking things through at the end of the year.’
‘We can talkbeforethen, too, you know?’ Greta realised she was gripping her cup too tightly and set it down.
Jim watched her, running a hand across his jaw. ‘Okay, that’s good.’ He nodded several times. ‘Anyway, how did your event at Brewtique go?’
Greta silently berated herself for expecting something . . . more.
She let out a wry laugh. ‘Apart from a miniscule audience, my talk went okay. Then everything fell apart, like a scene from a disaster movie.’ She told Jim all about the evening and how she’d bumped into the strange old woman. Her mind flicked briefly to the white rabbit on the flyer that seemed to wink at her. She must have been really tired.
‘Apparently, even promoting tinned ham is out of my reach right now. Nora thinks the Perks family should reunite on screen again,’ she said.
As the words left her mouth, it sounded like the obvious solution. Jim was still acting, and Lottie shone in front of the camera. Working together could draw them all closer together again.
Jim smiled wistfully. ‘We’ve left our Maple Gold days far behind, haven’t we? I’ve potentially got a great new contract, Lottie has zero interest in acting, and you . . . well, I’m sure you’ll get snapped up soon.’ He paused. ‘Or, you could always get a normal job.’
‘Normal?’ Greta repeated. ‘I’m not sure what that even means any longer. Do you remember when I got that job in the call centre, cold-calling people to try to sell them a vacuum cleaner? The suggestions of where I could stick it were pretty inventive.’
Jim laughed. ‘Yeah, I remember that. We haven’t exactly taken the easiest career paths, have we?’ He leaned forward. ‘Have you seen there’s a programme about Maple Gold on TV today?’
‘I saw a trailer for it. I think it’s a repeat.’ She hadn’t brought herself to watch it the first time around, worried it might stir up her emotions like silt in a muddy puddle.
Jim shifted slightly in his seat, and his thumb accidentally brushed Greta’s shoulder. ‘Sorry’ he said, moving it.
A warm quiver ran down her spine. Her belly flipped when she noticed he was still wearing his wedding ring. Suddenly, New Year’s Eve seemed like too far away. Too long to wait.
‘We were so good together on screen,’ she said. ‘Do you think we could ever get that back?’
Jim raised his cup to his lips, holding it there. When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he tugged it out. His left eyebrow hitched when he saw the caller’s name on the screen. ‘Sorry, I should get this,’ he told Greta.
