Page 158 of Forsaking All Others

“Cut!”

Gerry approaches, clipboard in hand as usual, and meets my eyes before turning to stare at Thorun.

“Thorun, try to refrain from talking when we’re filming Mr Starlen.”

She nods, and he steps back.

“Ready ladies?”

I want to say ‘no,’ punch him in the throat and run out of here as fast as my legs will carry me. I’m pretty sure Thorun would be right with me, minus the throat-punching part, but instead we both reply, “yes.”

“Great. Stand tall and face the screens to the right. You each have two minutes only, so make the most of it. Oh, and try to show off the dresses; the sponsors need to get their money’s worth.”

I frown, wondering why he’s referring to both of us, but I don’t have any time to question him as he shouts:

“And…Action!”

Turning as directed, Thorun whimpers behind the hand she’s holding to her mouth as a snowy landscape is revealed and dozens of fur-clad people and dogs cram into the camera shot. It seems her whole tiny town has come out to wish her the best, despite the obvious blizzard all around them. I wonder if they just didn’t have a room big enough to accommodate them all for the filming. If the rest of the town is anything like Thorun, they wouldn’t have taken no for an answer about appearing.

‘Probably had no idea that the show generally only allowed immediate family.’

I love the irreverence of them, and I can’t help but smile. What I wouldn’t give for a huge, loving family.

Front and centre of the group, a little, wizened old lady with a face resembling a walnut steps forward and right up to the nearest camera; so close, her breath frosts the lens and the camera man obviously has to step back.

“Gran,” Thorun whispers, raising one shaking palm in greeting to the old woman.

“Thorun. I want to tell you, I’m sorry,” the old lady says into the camera, her voice shaking with emotion. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know…”

Beside me Thorun shakes her head, her eyes now streaming tears.

Another woman, presumably Thorun’s aunt given the family resemblance, steps forward and puts her arm around the old woman to strengthen her as she goes on.

“Please forgive me, child. Please forgive an old, foolish woman for placing her only granddaughter into harm’s way.”

“Gran,” Thorun chokes, brushing away her tears and smiling at the screen. “Of course I forgive you. How could any of us have known?”

The crowd behind the old woman murmurs and several people wave. Others shout out their best wishes.

Starlen breaks the mood as he steps into the camera shot and addresses the family.

“You must all be very proud of how our little Nanuk has performed this season. Any parting words for the audience favourite?”

“We want you home!” A man on a snowmobile shouts. “We’ve had a terrible fishing season. Bring us back your luck.”

Thorun’s grandmother, her eyes on her granddaughter, shakes her head while others laugh.

Off-screen the director gives a ‘winding up’ signal and holds up a sign for Thorun to ‘speak now or forever hold your peace.’

He obviously thought that was funny when he wrote it.

“Gran,” Thorun clears her throat, “I’ll see you soon. Stop worrying, I have luck on my side. Manu,” she points to a man on one side of the crowd and shakes her finger, “is that my snow mobile?”

There’s general laughter from the whole group as he shrugs and grimaces, and Thorun smiles and waves as her time is up.

“Ah,” Starlen says to the camera, “what a life? Can you imagine trading that for being a royal vampire’s wife? You know you can!” He grins. “But no time for speculation,” he holds up his hand, “let’s meet our hot-headed Italian’s family.”

I gape at his rudeness just as a familiar, and very unwelcome, face appears on screen.