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On second thoughts, maybe Iwouldn’tplay myself in the soap opera of my life. I’m not sure I could be trusted. It’s not like I’m doing a stand-up job of playing myselfnow, is it? (I bet Violet would begreatat it, though. Let’s face it, she’s already had a bit of practice when it comes to stepping into my shoes.)
With this thought echoing around my head, I put the phone into my bag and pick up the car keys. I’m going to tackle this one thing at a time. First, I’m going to drive to the bank and pay off my bills with the money McTavish gave me last night. Then I’m going to go to work, and hand in my notice. Only once those two things are crossed off the list will I allow myself to think about the two-dads situation: which, when you say it like that, reallydoesmake my life sound like a soap opera.
And it’s definitely not one I’m looking forward to watching.
***
I hit the first bump in the road when I arrive at Emerald View an hour later to find that McTavish isn’t in today.
“It’s his day off,” says Hazel, who looks uncharacteristically harassed. “Didn’t he tell you? He said something about sheep, I think. Or maybe it was cows? Look, I don’t know; he’ll be back tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m in charge, and I need you to help me with this, Lexie.”
She ducks behind the reception desk and re-emerges a few seconds later with a huge picnic basket in her arms, which she heaves onto the desk with some difficulty.
“It’s lunch for the actors,” she says. “There’s another two of these baskets back here. I need you to take them down to theloch; that’s where they’re filming today. McTavish said he’d given you one of the company cars?”
“Er, yeah, he did,” I reply, surprised by the casual way she mentions this.
Does that mean theydohand out cars here like candy on Halloween? Have I decided to hand in my notice for no reason?
“Right,” says Hazel, briskly. “Off you go, then. I’ll get someone to help you take them out to the car, but you’ll probably need help to get them out again when you get there. One of the assistants should be able to do it. There’s plenty of them.”
“I… um…. I’m not sure I’m supposed to be around the actors?” I say, feeling stupid. “Well, just Violet, really. She’s… not my biggest fan.”
Hazel looks at me silently. It’s obvious that this is not exactly breaking news to her.
“I’m not asking you to deliver it straight to the actors, Lexie,” she says bluntly. “And I wouldn’t be asking you at all, it’s just that Jacques and Yanni have both called in sick this morning — probably because they were out on the lash last night — so I’m desperate. You won’t be anywhere near the actors, if that’s what you’re worried about. Please, Lexie,” she says. “I really need you to muck in here.”??“Er, no problem,” I tell her, even though this is, in fact, a very big problem. “I’ll… I’ll go now, shall I?”
“Thanks, Lexie,” she says, relieved. “You’re a lifesaver. Oh, you’ll need this. For the car.”
She hands me a bright yellow sticker with ‘Access All Areas’ on the front.
“Put that on the windscreen,” she says, and they’ll let you through. “They have the area blocked off to normal traffic while the filming’s going on this morning. It’s not been popular, I’m told.”
“I bet,” I mutter, trying to pick up the first of the huge baskets. “The roads around here can be tricky enough as it is.”
And so can the locals.
Hazel summons a grumpy-looking chef to help me load the picnic baskets into the car, and I set off, taking a circuitous route towards the loch to avoid the usual roads, which, sure enough, are all blocked off, with long lines of cars honking impatiently as they’re forced to do U-turns, and go back they way they came.
At one point I have to stop to let a flock of sheep pass in front of the car, and I’m sitting there drumming my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel when there’s suddenly a loud bang on the car window, and I look round to see Old Jimmy standing there, red faced with anger.
“Bloody disgrace, so it is,” he starts immediately, as I buzz down the window to speak to him. “Aw this film star nonsense. I’ve had it up to here.”
He indicates a point at the top of his weather-beaten forehead.
“Noise, day and night,” he goes on, not waiting for me to reply. “Lights. Cameras.”
“Action?” I suggest nervously.
“Aye,” says Jimmy, nodding vehemently. “Too much o’ that, too. Did ye ken they’ve been filming some kind o’ battle scene in the woods near the farm?”
I shake my head, knowing there’s no point trying to answer in words — he’s not listening.
“Aye,” he says, shaking his walking stick at the car window. “Ye should see the commotion. I’m worried about the beasts. I dinnae want them being bothered by it, especially now it’s lambing season. Poor Edna’s been aff her food, so she has. And her just about to pop, too.”
“Is Edna pregnant?” I ask, genuinely delighted by this news. Edna is a pet sheep. It had never occurred to me that Jimmy would try to breed from her. Although, according to him, she’s the most valuable animal ever to walk the earth, so I suppose it makes sense that he’d want more of her.
“Aye,” he says proudly. “She is that. And if anything happens to her, ye’ll have me to answer to.”
