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“What are you doing hanging around Davy’s house anyway?” he said.
“We’re working for her. She’s going to be famous. Us too. And we get paid in brownies. Trust me, these are so much better than her peanut cookies.”
The kid wasn’t making any sense. Jack tried to assess if he was stoned or not, but it was too dark to see his eyes clearly.
“You should see her,” the boy said. “She’s amazing. I’ve only seen acting like it on TV.”
Jack smiled grimly. She was acting all right. He was the audience of one.
“Thanks for the brownie,” he said.
“Anytime you run out, let me know.”
Yeah, right. Jack wandered back to his car, pulled out his cell phone and dialled Andy as the moped sped past him.
“I need the name of a good private lab,” he said when Andy answered. “I want to run some tests on something.”
Jack sniffed the brownie. Mainly it smelled of chocolate, but that didn’t stop him from being optimistic. He had the feeling that the evidence he needed was literally in the palm of his hand.
CHAPTER SIX
9 DAYS TO MAKE A MOVIE...
DAVINA WAS HIDING FROM Jack. She’d managed to spend all of Saturday working quietly in the house without saying a word to him. It’d been tense, but at least he hadn’t bothered her crew as they came and went, and they were able to get some more of the movie shot.
Now it was Sunday morning and he was back weeding the garden. She could see him through the net curtains and that was close enough. After the debacle in the changing rooms she honestly couldn’t face him. What would she say? No. Hiding and denial were the best way forward. Now if she could only think of a way to get him away from her house too, that would be great.
“What time does everyone get here?” Marianne asked as she made a pot of tea.
“Two.”
She sounded as miserable and defeated as she felt. This movie-making thing had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Now, not so much.
“Do you have enough brownies?” Marianne curled up in the old armchair under the window with a mug of tea.
“I didn’t make any. I made cookies. I’m sick to my back teeth with brownies.”
“The boys aren’t going to be pleased.”
“That’s just tough.”
Marianne squinted in her direction and said “mm”, as though it meant something. Davina was weary. Fed up juggling her life. Fed up sneaking around. Fed up trying to make it big. Surely there came a time when you had to admit that it wasn’t going to happen for you? Or worse, that you weren’t cut out for the dream in the first place? She shuddered. No one wanted to grow up to be mediocre.
“You remember when we were kids and they told us that if we tried hard enough we could become anything?”
“Yeah,” Marianne said with a smile. “An astronaut or prime minister. I wanted to be Indiana Jones.”
“It was a lie, wasn’t it? Hard work doesn’t mean you get to be what you want. We shouldn’t tell our kids that sort of thing.”
“Wow, you’re cheery today. So what should we tell our kids?”
“To suck it up, get a job in a fast food restaurant and hopefully you can have fun on the weekends.”
Marianne shook her head.
“Dark, Davina, dark.”
“I’m fed up,” Davina wailed, before letting her head thud on the table in front of her.
