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Jett isn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, his eyes are trained on McTavish, who stops his tractor behind the line of vehicles, and jumps down from the cab, looking for all the world like a golden retriever in human form.
“Right, then,” he says, grinning easily as he reaches us. “What’s a’ this aboot? I had a call to say there was a commotion in the woods?”
“I’ll say there’s a commotion,” says Violet, wrinkling her pert little nose. “And, oh, guess what? It’s Lexie’s fault.Again. Lexie who shouldn’t be hereat all, let alone leading a protest against the movie. Honestly, Jett, I think it’s time to call the police; this is getting ridiculous.”
McTavish looks at me doubtfully. I can see he’s wondering what I’m doing here, too.
“Um, it’s not what you think, McTavish,” I say, my voice sounding very loud as everyone stops talking to hear what I haveto say. “I’m not actually part of the… ofthis.” I gesture towards the group of villagers, who murmur discontentedly. “I, er, well I think I dropped my car keys —yourcar keys — when I was here yesterday, so I came back to look for them because I didn’t want to … I didn’t want to let you down again.”
I started off strong enough, but my voice has died almost to a whisper by the time I reach the end of this very short little speech. I feel horribly self-conscious with everyone watching me.
Thank God I washed my hair in the bath this morning.
“It’s all right, lass,” says McTavish kindly, coming to stand beside me. I can feel Jett’s eyes on me again, although they feel significantly less friendly now.
McTavish puts a protective arm around me, which is significantly less reassuring to me than I suspect he thinks it is.
“It isnae my place to tell ye what to do,” he says, addressing Jett and the rest of the crew. “But—”
“No. It isn’t,” says Jett at once. “So I’d tread really carefully if I were you, McTavish.”
The arm around my shoulder goes suddenly tense, but when he speaks, McTavish is as laid-back as ever.
“Itismy business when there’s a stand-off on Emerald View land, though,” he says easily, looking Jett straight in the eye.
“It’s hardly a ‘stand-off’,” says Jett, with the confidence of someone not used to being contradicted. “It’s a group of pensioners and some sheep, and they’re stopping us from filming, so we’re gonna need you to do something about that. We’ve paid to be here, and I’m sure you don’t want to lose the business.”
His eyes glint dangerously. I’ve never seen him like this before. It would actually be quite sexy, if I wasn’t so worried that this is going to end in a punch-up between him and McTavish.
“It’s no’ quite that simple, I’m afraid,” says McTavish, standing his ground. “There’s a public right o’ way through the forest.”
“That’s right,” says Bella, immediately. “This is Scotland. We have the right to roam.”
“And tae free speech,” adds Jimmy. “Ye may take our lives, but ye will never take our freedom. If ye try, we’ll set the sheep on ye.”
“Look,” says McTavish, giving them a warning glance. “I’m sure we can sort this out.”
“Who’s side are ye on, McTavish?” demands Jimmy angrily.
“I’m no’ on anybody’s side,” replies McTavish, who’s removed his arm from my shoulders, thank goodness. “I can see both sides. And I think if we all just—”
“They’re no’ even filming today,” interrupts Bella, who’s obviously noticed that none of the stars are in costume.
“And they willnae be, either, if we have anything to do wi’ it!” chuckles Jimmy. He gives her what I suspect he thinks is a rakish grin, but because he doesn’t have a lot of teeth, it just ends up looking vaguely threatening. To my amazement, Bella blushes anyway.
Jimmy, you old charmer.
“We hadn’t planned to film today, no,” says the woman I believe is the producer, speaking up at last. “We really just wanted to come here to meet with you, and see if we can have a … well, a civilized discussion about this.”
She looks doubtfully at Jimmy, who bares his teeth again, obligingly.
“We’re obviously aware of the, er, strong feelings that exist in the town about the filming of this movie,” the woman goes on, slightly shakily. “And we wanted to reassure you all that—”
“We dinnae want yer stupid film,” shouts someone from the back of the group. “Macbeth go home!”
“Macbethishome,” shrieks Justin Duval, outraged. “Thisis Macbeth’s home! Scotland!”
“It’sourhome!” shouts the woman with the “Violet is the real witch” sign.
