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After the boys had left with the last of her brownies, Davina plopped down at the kitchen table and flipped open her screenplay. It needed a better title. Vengeance is Mine wasn’t right but she couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe it would come to her when the film was finally finished.
“Those boys can act,” Marianne said as she brewed a pot of tea. “It was so believable listening to them plot murder. They really freaked me out.”
“With your taste for gore, that’s high praise.”
“Tea.” Marianne plopped a mug in front of her. “Have you decided what to do about your new landlord? I don’t know why you don’t just tell him that you’re filming a movie,” Marianne said. “Surely that’s better than hiding everything and worrying about getting turfed out on your ear.”
“Money, that’s why. It’s much more expensive to rent a film location than it is to rent a house. And I need this house. It makes the movie, every single scene is set here. Without the Gothic atmosphere the story wouldn’t be so creepy.”
“If he comes back before the two weeks are up and sees that you have a house full of equipment stamped property of Brighton Buzz TV Show, then you may lose more than your movie location. You’ll lose your home and probably your freedom. I don’t think an ex-police officer would be happy with illegal activity in his house.”
Davina was getting a headache.
“I keep telling you, it’s going back to the studio as soon as I’m done. It’s borderline illegal at most.”
Marianne’s look said she knew better.
“It’ll be fine,” Davina said as her head began to throb. “I just need to stall him until the movie is made.”
Marianne was clearly sceptical.
“You’ve seen the Terminator movies, right?” Marianne pointed at her as she spoke. Davina didn’t say anything. “That guy never gives up. They had to melt him to stop him.”
“You’re not helping, Mar.”
Marianne held up her hands in surrender.
“I’m just saying.”
Davina stared at the 1950’s style kitchen that no one had ever bothered to renovate. Tiny faded cherries danced across the wallpaper and around the yellow chipped Formica cabinets. It was her favourite room and usually lifted her mood. Tonight was the exception. Two weeks. One movie. And the Terminator out to get her.
“We’re going to need more chocolate,” she said.
“The boys ate all the brownies.”
“I seriously regret offering to pay them in baked goods. I had no idea how much a teenage boy ate. It would have been cheaper to give them cash.”
“Ah, but you don’t have cash.”
“Good point.”
If she had cash she wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. If she had cash she would have rented a movie location and paid an experienced crew.
“I had a couple of thoughts while we were filming,” she told Marianne as she sipped her Darjeeling. “When I go into work tomorrow, I’ll talk to my boss about taking the next two weeks off. I can’t work all day and get the movie done in time. I’d stop teaching the evening classes too but I need access to the editing equipment. At least they let me take some of that home legally.” Her smile felt pathetic.
“You could rope in a couple of your students to help with production. Tell them it’s extra credit.”
“Now you’re helping. Well done.”
Marianne threw a dishtowel at her head.
“I still need an actor to play the heroine’s new boyfriend. The boys are too young for the part.”
It was all getting too hard. A tiny niggle at the back of Davina’s head prompted her to give up, to let the movie go, to find another career. After all, if she was any good as an actress she would have been snapped up by now – right? She told her rebellious brain to be quiet. The last thing she needed now was logic.
“Don’t worry,” Marianne said with a grin. “If it comes to it, I can paste on a beard and say the boyfriend’s lines.”
Davina threw the dishtowel back at her, wishing it was something heavier.
