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'No time today—I'll pop in on Saturday.'
'Now, don't you go elsewhere, Zoe. I'll give you a good deal,' he assured her as she drove off in his blue Ford hire car.
They were filming on location an hour's drive from her home. They had broken for lunch when she drove up. Most of the actors were sitting in their caravans, eating the salad meal the caterers had provided. Some of the crew were eating that too, but others were eating sausages and chips swimming in baked beans. They all turned their heads to stare as she got out of the car. A ripple of murmured comment broke out.
Will, in grubby jeans sagging at the hips and a mud-smeared sweatshirt, came to meet her, grinning as his eyes slid quickly over the visible evidence of her crash.
'You fraud! There's nothing wrong with you—and I just sent you flowers!' He folded her in his arms and hugged her; it was like being embraced by a shambling bear smelling of machine oil.
'That was nice of you, Will,' she said, gently detaching herself without making it obvious. 'Who's directing?'
Will grimaced his rugged face wry. 'The company's looking for someone, but at the moment I'm carrying on with your schedule, using the shooting script and your notes. I asked them if I could and they agreed, in the hope that you'd be back in a day or so. I shot Scene 45 this morning, no dialogue, just a slow pan of the landscape, and I've blocked out that short snatch of dialogue between Freak and Philip. We went over it while they were having lunch in their caravans. The light's fine, and I didn't think they'd need much direction, they're both so good.' He eyed her uncertainly, not sure how she would react, and she smiled reassurance at him.
'Great. I don't know why I bothered to come; obviously you can manage withou
t me.'
'Rubbish,' he said, instantly. 'You'd talked me through today's schedule on Friday. I knew what you wanted me to do, and so did the actors. We just carried on with your instructions. You always prepare so well, as I said to Ben Green.'
'And what did he say?' she dryly asked. The man-aging director of the company backing the film, a bald, eagle-eyed man in his fifties, was usually fair-minded, but when money was at stake he could be difficult An accountant and a lawyer, he was good at his job but obsessed with the cost of everything, always looking to cut corners financially.
'He said he knew you did, and we were to go ahead with what you had laid down for today while he thought about who to replace you with if you didn't come back soon.'
'You probably saved my job!' Zoe sighed. 'Thanks, Will. I'll just get myself some salad, and then we'll start work again. If you don't mind, I would like to check how you blocked the scene before we shoot I'm sure you did a great job, but I need to know how it looks.'
'Sure, of course,' he said. I'll get the stand-ins out to take up the positions. Do you want to check the scene I shot? I can get it up on video for you?'
'Oh, I'm sure you did your usual brilliant job, Will. I'll see it this evening when we look through everything we shot today.'
As Zoe walked over to the caterers' caravan her production runner, Barbara, hurried over to join her, a slim girl in workman-like dark blue dungarees and a bright yellow shirt.
'I thought you weren't coming to work today? The guy who answered your phone this morning said you would be off sick for several days.' Barbara's bright hazel eyes were taking in her cuts and bruises. 'From what he told me about this crash, you were lucky to get off with just a few minor injuries.'
'Very lucky,' agreed Zoe emphatically, turning to order salad from the girl behind the counter.
Chewing gum and looking bored, the girl asked, 'Tuna and peach or cheese?'
'Tuna, please,' Zoe looked with disfavour at the girl's rather grubby-looking scarlet talons as they unwrapped Clingfilm from a salad taken out of the small fridge at the back.
'Drink?' the girl yawned.
'Just mineral water, thanks.'
Going back to the fridge, the girl took out a bottle, turned to clatter it down on Zoe's tray. 'Pudding? We've got fruit or cake.'
'No pudding, thanks. By the way, your hands need washing, have you noticed? Will you do that now?'
She got a poisonous look, but as she walked away the girl went to the sink and began noisily washing her hands, muttering, 'Who does she think she is? Bitch. My hands are perfectly clean.'
Barbara giggled. 'She's not going to love you.'
'Do I care? It would cost us a fortune if she spread salmonella among the cast and crew.'
Barbara kept pace with her and after a pause asked, 'He sounded tough—who was he?'
Without looking at her, Zoe frowned. 'Who was who?'
'The guy I talked to on the phone this morning. It wasn't your brother-in-law, was it?'
