“Thank you,” Laney chirped. “You don’t know how much I appreciate you filling in at the last minute. I thought we were in real trouble when Janice called in to say she couldn’t do it.”
The young director, who’d introduced herself as Laney Douglas, had a hyped-up energy and a habit of fiddling with the end of her messy blonde braid in a way that made Jess want to grab the poor woman and brush it out. It must have been early inLaney’s career. Or maybe she was just one of those people who lived at full-speed.
Jess remembered her own rushed morning and the current state of her love life and smirked at the irony of criticising someone else’s chaotic life. She was one to talk.
Laney dropped her braid, clutched the contract to her chest, and beamed at her with obvious relief. “Let’s get you started.”
“Ready when you are.” Jess stood and tugged the hem of her tight black dress down. Picturing the suitcase in the back of her car, she wished she’d taken a moment to change, but it hadn’t been as high a priority that morning as putting a solid distance between herself and Dave. After their night out clubbing together, and his unwelcome declaration at five in the morning, she’d jumped in the car, only stopping at a petrol station bathroom on the way to brush her hair and throw on deodorant. She rarely wore makeup, so at least she didn’t have panda eyes or smudged lipstick to worry about.
Jess followed the far more casually dressed director as Laney bounced around the set, rapidly introducing her to various people.
Her phone dinged in her purse and she winced. It’d be Dave again, no doubt about it. The invisible drawstring around her throat tightened and with it a strong desire to run. But wasn’t that partly what she was doing here? Running? She ignored her phone and focused on the cast and crew.
Shaking hands and smiling until her cheeks hurt, Jess tried hard to remember at least some of the names fired at her by Laney. A couple of the crew, men and women, ran their eyes over her outfit, eyebrows raised. It didn’t faze her. Jess knew in two months those same people would either be her good friendsor want to sleep with her. All social situations, she’d discovered, followed the same pattern.
Getting to know people came easily, which certainly helped in her midwifery practice, establishing rapport quickly with her mums. And some of the crew, namely the male actors, she didn’t care to get to know. In her experience, the type of men who chose an acting career were men she didn’t have time for. Her birth father had taught her that. The only lesson he’d ever taught her, in actual fact.
Her purse tucked over her arm, Jess could hear her phone ping with messages every few minutes.
The director eyed her attention-seeking bag. “Do you need to check that?”
“No. Sorry.” She wrestled the purse off her shoulder. “I should turn it off.” Her fingers found the phone and, as predicted, a stream of messages from Dave filled the screen. Great. How did she constantly get herself into these situations? She pressed the off button and shoved it back into the depths of her purse.
Men. Jess shook her head. If she could keep away from them for good, her life would be so much simpler. If only they weren’t so appealing.
“You don’t need to keep it on for…clients?” Laney asked. “It’s fine, really. I understand this was very last minute for you.”
“My manager is on call for me today,” Jess explained, a pang of guilt tugging at her. She hated leaving her clients with other people when she’d built up a relationship with so many of them. Some over years with several pregnancies. “I’ll sort out the backup midwife for my clients later.”
Laney clapped her hands together like a children’s television host, startling Jess. She half expected her to break out in song.“Great, let’s carry on, shall we? This is where we’ll be shooting today’s scenes.” She led Jess into the foyer and then the main ward, where the old Rangiora Hospital, a small town hospital in rural New Zealand, had been transformed. Black paper covered the windows to block out natural light, and stage lights on stands were placed strategically around the rooms.
Stripped of its usual furniture, the main ward was now filled with sterile-looking antique hospital equipment, the kind Jess had seen in museums, including old metal-framed beds with drop-down sides. Actors and extras dressed in white nurses’ uniforms or loose flower-printed housedresses milled about in small groups. Some cupped their hands under large pregnant bellies, their hair in short bobs, curled and parted to the side, 1950s style.
“It’s like being transported back in time.” Jess realised how stupid she sounded as soon as the words left her mouth. Blame the late night and slight hangover for that one. “Which I suppose is the exact effect you’re going for, this being a historical drama.” Great first impressions, she reprimanded herself, but Laney’s eyes lit up with pride.
“I’m stoked to hear it’s working. That’s exactly what we want our audience to feel,” she gushed. “Even the cutlery in the kitchen is from the 50s. I sourced it from my grandmother’s house and now she thinks she’s a celebrity, boasting to all the ladies at church about how her spoons are in a TV show. It’s super cute. The set and costuming I’m feeling confident about, but I want to make sure the medical side is right, too. That’s why I’m so amped you’re here.” She clapped her fingers in a mini celebration. “This will be super different for you, I’m guessing. Film sets and staged births.”
“Very different,” Jess agreed, following Laney from room to room and taking it all in. Scarily different. Then again, she suspecteddifferentwas exactly what she needed.
Looking around at the high ceilings with their ornate ceiling roses and white moulded trims, Jess couldn’t help feeling a tug of nostalgia. She’d lived in the city for all of her 20s, and fully embraced the modern city-girl vibe. Jess the party girl. She knew that’s how people saw her. But deep down, she’d always felt more grounded in rural places. In places like this.
Laney speed-introduced her to the camera and lighting team members as they hurried past and led Jess to another large room where the producer, writers, and production crew held their morning meetings.
“And this is where it all happens.” Laney gave her an excited squeeze on the arm, increasing the worry Jess had been trying to push down since she’d reluctantly agreed to the consultation job. What if she didn’t meet expectations?
“I’m really not sure how helpful I’ll be,” she said, boulder-sized doubt settling deep in her gut. “I’m so sorry Janice couldn’t do it. She started her midwifery career in the 50s and 60s, and knows far more than I do.” At just 28, Jess hadn’t even been alive in the ‘50s, let alone working. “I’ll try my best but—”
“I’m sure you’ll be great. Most of our actors haven’t been pregnant or given birth and they certainly haven’t worked on the other side, delivering babies.”
At least her midwifery knowledge would be useful. That was reassuring. “Great. Well, I’m more than happy to help with that.”
Standing in the writer’s room with Laney, anticipating the work ahead, she still wasn’t convinced she was the person for the job, but Janice was too ill to do it and her manager seemed to think Jess was the right stand-in. The film meant a substantialdonation to the new hospital fund, as well as a large consultancy sum for her, and, as much as she hated leaving her mums for a month, it was hard to pass up the chance to finally save the deposit for her own home. A place she could start fresh, move out of the city, and make changes.
Getting rid of men like Dave, first on that list.
The sense of needing to change had been brewing for a while now, but last night was the final straw. With this job, she could do something about her chaotic life. New house. New life. New Jess.
“Awesome. That’s who I was looking for,” Laney said, her face lighting up as she led Jess back out into the hallway. “Come and I’ll introduce you to Nate Mitchell, our starring man. He plays Doctor Raynard.” She waved at a man standing on his own in the foyer, holding a script.
