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He shakes his stick at me again, and I consider putting the window back up.
“I haven’t done anything to Edna, Jimmy,” I point out carefully. “I’ve barely even seen her since I’ve been back, other than that one time at the pub.”
“Maybe no’,” he says. “But that man o’ yours is the reason for all this nonsense. If it wisnae for him and his bloody movie, they wouldnae be here. So you get him told, ye hear me? Or I’ll put a curse on both yer houses. I’ve done it before.”
He has, actually. Jimmy once tried to curse McTavish, along with Dylan Fraser, the local policeman. Mum called me in California to tell me about it. And although I know perfectly well that Jimmy’s mad — and also that curses aren’treal— he looks angry enough now that I’m relieved to see the last sheep hop off the road and out of my way.
“Well, it’s been nice chatting, Jimmy,” I tell him, putting the car into gear. “But I have to go now. Good luck to Edna when the time comes!”
I speed off before he can say anything else.
If this is how the locals have been reacting the arrival of the film crews, I’m glad I’m out of the way, up at Emerald View, rather than in The Crown, or The Wildcat, where I’d have to listen to them every day.
I hope Jimmy and co aren’t planning to cause any trouble, though. I know it’s annoying having the town suddenly flooded with tourists and film trucks, but it’s bringing a ton of money to the area. And, more importantly, it’s making Jett happy.
I really hope it’s making Jett happy.
I finally reach the entrance to the little car park by the loch, and am waved through by the security guard stationed there,who looks carefully at my badge, before directing me to a parking space.
This area normally has just a few cars in it, most of them belonging to fishermen, or dog walkers, or the occasional tourist, here to brave the icy waters of the loch, or ride one of the swan-shaped pedalos you can hire.
Today, though, the pedalos are locked up, and the car park is filled with trucks so big I have no idea how they managed to get down the narrow roads that lead here. Just past them, the ruined castle floats serenely on its island in the middle of the slate-gray water, and the mountains loom dangerously behind it, their peaks shadowed by clouds.
It really is an awesome location. I’m not surprised Jett and Justin Duval were so hellbent on using it, no matter what Jimmy and his beasts might have to say about it.
I get out of the car and scan the lochside for some sign of Grace, who’s nowhere to be seen. MacBeth is the first movie Jett’s done since I met him (He’s one of that select group of actors who are famous enough to be super-picky about what they work on. Although I suspect Jett would be super-picky even if hewasn’tfamous…), so this is the first set I’ve been on, and I’m surprised to find it almost completely empty, except for the security guard, who’s gone back into his little porta-cabin, and is talking to someone on the phone.
Where is everyone?
And who am I supposed to give this food to?
I stand beside the car for a few minutes, hoping someone will turn up to help me, but when no one does, I haul the one of the baskets out of the boot on my own, then take out my phone to call Grace before I risk breaking my back by trying to lift the other one.
No answer.
I guess her phone’s probably on silent, or switched off so it doesn’t go off in the background of a shot. I should probably have thought of that before I tried calling her.
Setting my own phone to silent, and feeling quite pleased with myself for having had the foresight to do this, I take a few tentative steps towards the pebble beach which lines the loch, then a few more, which take me right onto it. No one does anything to stop me — the security guard’s still deep in conversation with someone and doesn’t even bother to look my way — but I think I just caught a glimpse of Grace’s pink cardigan somewhere in the trees not far from where I’m standing, so I start walking in that direction, feeling horribly conspicuous as I crunch across the beach on my own.
Loch Keld is a sea loch, and although there are some houses and other buildings along its banks (Jack Buchan’s restaurant, The 39, being one of them), a lot of it’s still completely undeveloped, with thick woodland lining the shore. By the time I reach it a few minutes later, I’ve started to make out a few other figures dotted among the trees, and I’m really hoping one of them’s Grace, who’s the only person I can trust not to yell at me when she sees me here.
By now, I’ve reached the approximate location of the pink cardigan I’m sure must be hers, and I slow down, hoping against hope that there are no cameras currently pointing in my direction, or this “modern re-telling” of Macbeth will soon be featuring a very modern barmaid (complete with name tag and purple lipstick) wandering into shot.
I wish McTavish had been at work this morning, so I could have handed in my notice, like I’d planned. It would’ve been so much easier than this.
I’m here now, though, and, in spite of everything, I can’t help but be a little bit excited as I slip through the trees towards Grace. It’s not every day you get to see a movie set — well,location — is it? It’s not every day you get to witness one of the most acclaimed directors in the world at work.
And it’s not every day you get to see your ex-boyfriend standing among the trees, with his arms wrapped around his co-star/rumored new girlfriend, who he’s kissing passionately, either.
It isthisday, though; or, at least, it is forme.
Because, as it turns out, that flash of pink I spotted in the woods wasn’t Grace’s cardigan at all. No, it was the pale pink evening gown being worn by Violet King (Well, half-worn: the straps have been pushed off her shoulders — by Jett, presumably, in the throes of passion — leaving her creamy skin on full display), as she enthusiastically returns Jett’s kiss.
And I’m standing right in front of them.
Fourteen
“CUT!” roars a male voice with a thick French accent from somewhere hidden in the trees.
