She now knew that Millie had gone missing forty years ago. In Mapleville, Millie had confided to Greta that she’d been having new thoughts—ones that felt like memories. Could she have been in Mapleville for so long that she’d forgotten once living somewhere else?
‘You look like there’s something you want to tell me,’ Nora said. ‘What is it?’
Greta’s mind raced, tempted to spill about Iris’s coffee, but she closed her mouth. ‘Oh . . . it’s nothing. Sorry for how I acted in the jewellery shop. Perhaps I was mistaken, after all.’
Nora studied her. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You’re filmingBack to the Landthe day after next, and I want you in tip-top form. No pulling out at the last minute or not showing up. Don’t forget that the producer has links to Tobias Blake. This is my chance to get one step closer to Hollywood royalty, darling, so don’t let me down.’
Greta nodded firmly. ‘I’m fine. And I won’t.’
As they began to walk again, she felt a familiar buzz in her fingertips. The pull to return to Mapleville was growing ever stronger. Especially now, to discover more about Millie’s story.
*
WITH ONLY Afew days left until Christmas, and counting down until the New Year, Greta felt increasingly twitchy.
Without Lottie around, the flat felt emptier than ever. She missed the inconsequential things the most, like Lottie’s feet shuffling on the carpet, her toothbrush on the sink, and even the kitchen cupboard doors she always left ajar. The fridge seemed too full without a teenager plundering it for late-night snacks.
Greta phoned Lottie a couple of times, making up reasons to hear her voice. She asked technical questions about her laptop, or brought up the latest film releases. All the while, her insides felt as knotted as seaweed. She didn’t mention the repaired bracelet, wanting to give it to Lottie in person.
To keep herself busy, Greta started clearing out her wardrobe. As she held up some of the dark, shapeless garments in front of the mirror, hardly any of them felt likeherany longer. She felt caught between two reflections of herself, in a kind of limbo.
Festive lights twinkled in shop windows, and the scent of cinnamon hung in the air, but Greta felt none of the usual anticipation. This year, time passing didn’t feel like the build-up to a celebration. It felt more like a countdown for her to escape back to Mapleville. Even though Lottie’s talent show was fast approaching, on the last day of school before the Christmas holidays, Greta still felt like marking the days on her kitchen wall, as if it were a prison cell.
Greta tuned into that week’s episode ofCoffee Morning Crewon the radio, thinking how she could’ve been in the hot seat. A novelist known for writing sweeping family sagas was this week’s guest, selecting Einstein, Madonna, Mother Theresa and Tutankhamen to take coffee with.
Greta’s original idea to meet Aubrey Hepburn, Margaret Atwood, Tobias Blake, and Alice in Wonderland now seemed painfully contrived. She’d give anything just to have a nice brew with her mum instead.
Nora sent over her filming schedule. Apparently, all Greta had to do was show up and spend a day on a farm. The footage would then be cleverly edited into six episodes, making it look like contestants had gone back to basics for two whole weeks.
Greta shuddered and set aside a woolly jumper, old jeans and sturdy boots.
*
THE SETTING FORBack to the Landwas stunning—rolling green hills, bales of hay scattered like a Constable painting, and even a picturesque red tractor.
No matter how pretty the surroundings were, it didn’t make up for the smell. The air was thick with the pungent aroma of mud and wet animals, a scent so strong that even bread baking in an outside oven couldn’t mask it.
A runner ushered Greta into a makeshift green room, which was really just a tent. Inside were a few foldable chairs, a couple of tea urns, and the kind of cheap biscuits left in a variety box after all the fancy chocolate ones had been eaten.
Greta set down her bag of fresh clothes to change into later. While the briefing session took place, she glanced around at her fellow contestants.
There was a bit-part actor she’d seen in the background of a few soap operas, and a newsreader on a local TV channel who’d lost his job for making inappropriate jokes on air. A woman in her fifties, with a swallow and a rose tattooed on her neck, and a ruby embedded in her front tooth, was known for having dropped out of a famous girl band just before they’d made it big in Japan.
‘Kitty Real,’ Greta whispered to herself, suddenly remembering her name.
Each contestant wore a glazed expression, a why-has-my- life-come-to-this look in their eyes. They exchanged looks with each other, filled with disdain, curiosity, and sympathy.
A production assistant wearing denim dungarees and a Santa hat, who looked fresh out of university, bounded into the tent brandishing a clipboard. ‘Hi, I’m Barney. Welcome toBack to the Land.’
He outlined their tasks for the day with so much enthusiasm it bordered on condescending. Greta tried her best to appear engaged. She owed Nora a favour and needed money, especially if she had to renew the lease on her flat.
Greta’s first task was clearing out the goat shed. She brandished a rake and headed inside where bleating filled the air. She tried to pretend it was the sound of applause instead but her own acting skills let her down.
One goat seemed to watch her every move with its apple- green eyes. Another managed to nibble a hole in her sweater without her noticing. Cleaning out the droppings was particularly nauseating, making her gag. Greta’s eyes watered from the stench, and she tried to imagine the scent of roasted coffee instead.
Her next task was foraging mushrooms in a nearby forest. Despite a talk from a local expert on which edible fungi grew in winter, she still wasn’t sure which were safe to eat and which might trigger hallucinations. Her fingers grew scarlet from the cold and her breath floated in the air like low-hanging clouds.
She did, however, find unexpected joy in making bread. There was something calming about kneading dough on a rustic wooden table under the open sky, then gathering around a crackling fire with the other contestants to share a warm, freshly baked loaf.
