By the end of the day, a smoky, musty smell clung to her clothes like a shroud. Her hands were chapped and dirty, and her hair was a mess.
Greta returned to the tent, desperate to change into her clean clothes. She searched for her bag, moving chairs around and peering under the table, until she realised it was missing.
‘Looking for your stuff?’ Kitty Real said, poking dirt from her nails with a wooden fork. ‘I think Doreen fromFloristFaceofftook it by mistake.’
Greta stared at her in disbelief. ‘You didn’t think to stop her?’
Kitty shrugged, continuing her manicure. ‘Honestly, I didn’t have the energy after milking the cows. Fancy a brew before we leave this hell-hole?’
‘No thanks,’ Greta said through gritted teeth. She was dying for a coffee, but not a lukewarm one from the stainless steel urn in the tent. She longed for a frothy cappuccino, or even better still, one of Iris’s special blends. Her craving for it was becoming unbearable.
Thankfully, the production assistant offered her a lift back into town. Barney drove along the country lanes with his window wound down, as if trying to blow away the smell.
He dropped her off a mile away from Longmill centre. ‘This okay? I need to hit the motorway. The show airs in a few months. Hope you got a lot out of today.’
‘I did, thanks. Very enjoyable,’ Greta said, forcing a thumbs- up. She glanced down and noticed her boots had left clumps of soil in the footwell of his car, like small molehills. As soon as she stepped out, she hurried away before he noticed the mess.
Walking toward town only heightened her awareness of her dishevelled state. The mud on her jeans had dried to a thick beige cuff, and the dirt ingrained in her knuckles made them look like tree bark. People stared at her, and she needed a cup of Iris’s coffee more than ever. An escape from everything.
It felt like an invisible force was pulling Greta toward the coffee shop.
Would it still be there? And if it was, could she persuade Iris to lift her ban and make her a brew?
As the slender building came into sight, Greta sped up and crossed the road. Just as she stepped onto the pavement, her shoelace came undone. She stumbled, catching herself in time, then crouched down to retie it.
A few coins suddenly appeared on an outstretched hand, right in front of her face.
‘You look like you need this more than me,’ a kindly female voice said.
Greta stared at the money, confused. It took her a couple of seconds to realise the person thought she was begging in the street.
Quickly shaking her head, she looked up. ‘Oh, no. I don’t need—’ Her words stuck when she saw a familiar mane of pink hair.‘Maisie?’
The assistant from Brewtique widened her eyes in surprise. ‘Oh. Wow. Greta. It’syou.’Maisie hastily withdrew her hand, clutching the coins to her chest. ‘Sorry. I didn’t recognise you.’
Greta’s cheeks burned furnace-hot. She finished tying her lace and stood up. ‘I’ve been filming a new show in the country about going back to basics. I don’t need . . .’ She scrambled to find the right word. Sympathy? Money? Attention? Now that she thought about it, she could actually do with all three.
‘Right,’ Maisie said, running a hand down the lapel of her faux leopard-skin coat. ‘Basics? Cool. I’ve just finished work, too. Just had an audition and aced it. Got a presenter gig for Glastonbury and a part in a new indie film. Dreams can come true, huh?’
‘I guess they can,’ Greta said, brushing a piece of hay off her sleeve. She wished she could slide down the nearest drain and disappear. ‘That’s fantastic. Well done.’
‘Yeah. They saw my stuff on TikTok. If you’re still in the game, you should give it a try . . . get yourself out there again.’
‘Great tip,’ Greta said, struggling to smile. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
Maisie patted her hands awkwardly against her sides. ‘Well, hey. It was great seeing you again.’
‘Yes. You, too. Good luck with everything.’
Maisie glanced down at the coins in her palm, then back at Greta. ‘Are you sure you don’t need . . . ?’
Greta shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m fine.’
Maisie still didn’t look entirely convinced.
They exchanged stiff half waves before heading in opposite directions.
Greta swallowed hard. She kept her chin up, striding with mock confidence, until Maisie was out of sight. Only then did she feel her body crumpling.
