Page 83 of Last Christmas in London

She exhaled sharply, staring out of the window. ‘I feel like something is going to go wrong.’ Her voice was softer now, almost vulnerable, wound with nerves that were unlike any I’d seen Pim experience before. Usually she’d be over-energetic, practically bouncing, unable to sit still. But she was quiet and whispering, as if she didn’t want her nerves to know she was nervous. She only wanted me to know.

‘Nothing is going to go wrong,’ I said, desperately trying to reassure her as I stroked her knuckles with my thumb. This wasn’t about tripping up on stage or missing a cue, it was about wanting it to matter. She wanted to matter again. And I wanted her to know that she did matter, especially to me. And that made me really want to make her smile. ‘The only thing that can go wrong is if I don’t get you to the theatre on time.’

Pim’s lips quivered in an almost smile.

‘That’s still your job, for now, I suppose.’

I paused, still stroking her hand as I felt the tremors subside. I moved to stand in front of Pim’s chair.

‘I’m very pleased to do it,’ I told her sincerely. ‘You know, my leaving is not because I was unhappy, Pim.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You know every employee who leaves says that but never means it.’

Screw it, I thought. What have I got to lose in this moment.

‘You drive me crazy,’ I told her. ‘You’re incredibly bossy, entitled, sometimes irritatingly particular – but you never made me unhappy.’

I did my best to ignore the widening eyes and shocked glances from the make-up artists and manicurist as I continued.

‘I do wish I could get more sleep and didn’t have to clean up your dog’s poop or sneak in snacks to night shoots because production won’t allow assistants to eat at craft services. I sometimes get annoyed at ordering three things from a menu for you to try, only to eat cold takeaway for my dinner. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bug me that after a long-haul flight, you get whisked straight into a taxi while I’m left waiting for the luggage and cramming it all onto a bus.’

I let out a sarcastic laugh at the memory.

‘But… I love that you include me on set and ask for my opinion when no one else even acknowledges me. I love your runaway commentary of TV shows and having afternoon tea and dinners with you all over the world. I love that you have a wicked sense of humour and an adventurous streak – and that you always drag me along for the ride.’

I paused, feeling a warmth spread through me as I realised just how much these past years had meant.

‘Most of all, I’m grateful for all the opportunities you’ve given me over the last eight years.’

By the time I finished, I realised I was beaming – lost in the memories, in all the chaos, the frustrations, and the unexpected joy.

‘It’s time for me to move on and settle down,’ I said finally. ‘But I’ve never been unhappy.’

There was a gaping pause as I stood up, straightening my back, still smiling at Pim, who seemed frozen in one spot. ‘You’re going to do great tonight,’ I added, trying to bring her back round to herself.

She started to nod minutely, and then more actively.

‘Yes, I am,’ she said, looking around briefly. ‘Am I ever going to get my nails done, though?’

And just like that, the make-up artist, stylist, and manicurist flew back into action.

I wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t verbalised a response, or even so much as acknowledged my monologue of thanks. That was hardly the Pim way. But, as the room filled with movement again, I found myself feeling a euphoric release. I had said my piece, and somehow it seemed to have settled her, and me at the same time.

She now knew how I felt, even if she didn’t mark the moment in words. She didn’t need to.

The relief came quickly, settling physically somewhere near my diaphragm, as I watched her refocus on the task at hand. Whatever happened next, I could release any guilt I held for leaving my job – as it was a job – but in the knowledge that Pim could be my friend as well.

Even though I knew she’d never say it aloud. Or text me. Ever.

I’d know that deep down she cared that I cared, and that was more than enough.

Straightening as the feeling in my chest deepened, I said, ‘I’ve got a few errands to run’ to the team, though no one was really paying me that much attention now. ‘But I’ll see you at the venue.’

‘Are you not coming with us?’ a stylist asked suddenly, slightly out of desperation.

‘I won’t fit in the car,’ I pointed out, since all three of them would likely travel with Pim to the venue for final touches. ‘I’ll see you there.’

‘Don’t forget to drop off my bags!’ Pim cried from her chair, my little outburst about my time with her already forgotten.