Callum gives me a small salute before he shuts the door. Setting my backpack down on the desk near the window, I pull my phone out of the front pocket. Still dead. I search again through the main part of the backpack for my charger, which I know I tucked safely into the small pocket on the front of my luggage. My lost luggage. Still not there.
I set the phone down on the desk and head back into the hall to find the bathroom. Music thumps from behind the door directly across from mine. It’s open just a crack, so I get closer. David Bowie spills out into the hall. The room inside is colorful with a bright-yellow shag rug covering the stone floor and a royal blue velvet chair sitting in the corner. A sweater sails from across the room to land on the bed, and I catch a glimpse of Skye stomping around her room, singing softly in just a black bra and jeans.
Oh shit.
She’s getting dressed or undressed. Either way, I shouldn’t be here. I back away from the door, but not before she catches my eye.
“What are you doing?” She quickly snatches the sweater and holds it to her chest.
I put my hand over my eyes as if that could help. “I was just looking for the bathroom.”
“And you thought we always blast “Heroes” in the loo?”
“No, I…”
She shuts the door. That couldn’t have gone any worse.
“It’s over here.” Callum comes down the hall chuckling, clothes in his arms.
“Thanks.” I take the clothes from him gratefully. “Hey, I forgot to ask… Do you have internet?”
“Aye, most days we do. It’s a bit spotty. The password is Brown Sugar.” He lowers his voice. “The song, not the baking product. It’s spelled the same, but the distinction matters to Skye.”
I smile and immediately hear the Rolling Stones song in my head. “Got it.”
The water in the clawfoot tub is hot, unraveling some of the knots in my shoulders. Not sure if there are more from the journey or from the unexpected welcome. It seems like maybe Skye didn’t know we’re filming here.
But that’s not my problem.
I need to focus on my character. He breathed these stone walls like it was the only oxygen he needed. So I will too. Which will be a stretch.
I’m a city kid. Aside from some other locations for filming, I’m not used to this much silence and open space. But I’ll have to get used to it quick if this film is going to be a hit. The premise of the film is already so out there; if I can’t nail the authenticity of the character, it will all fall apart.
I sink a little lower in the tub, letting myself fully relax. This film will work. It has to. My career depends on it.
SKYE
As soon as I hear the water running, I leave my room to find Dad so he can explain what is going on and why Miles Casey is taking a bath in our home. Shoving my unruly curls through the neck of my jumper, I make my way down the hall when a loud crack startles me, and I run to find its source.
A chunk of ceiling fell in the hall outside my library, and rain is lashing in. My slippers smack against the stone floors as I hurry to the room where we keep supplies and haul the ladder out first, struggling with the heft of it. Next, I cut off a bit of tarp, grab the tools, and patch up the gaping hole as best I can, my stomach dropping with every teeter from the extremely tall ladder. It’s just my father and me taking care of the place, and seeing his large frame up on this ladder makes me more nervous than the wobbles. So, I take a deep breath and ignore the height as I patch the leak.
What must it have been like to live in this castle in its heyday? When it felt like a luxury instead of a duty. Before it started to literally crumble into the ground? No one in my family would know.
Once the hole is fixed and the supplies put away, I make my way down to the kitchen, where my father is already bustling around humming “Ally Bally Bee.”
Putting a hand on his shoulder, I move past him to make some coffee, rain lashing the green hills outside the window.
“A hunk of roof fell down in the hall off the library upstairs.”
“Nah. Another one?”
I nod. “What’s with the movie star in the tub?”
“Pet,” my dad says apprehensively, which freezes me to my spot. Dad is never apprehensive about anything. He’s more the jump in headfirst and figure it out when you land kind of guy. We have a lot in common in that way. “It’s the solution to our financial troubles. Do you remember Mom’s friend Anita, from the States?”
“Mom had a ton of friends from all over?—”
“That she did.” Dad's smile is warm and wide. “That she did. This was the actress, with the daughter some years older than you. They were over all the time.”
