Kath picked up her fork, went to dip it into her pasta and looked again at Jenna. ‘Is that blood in your hair?’ She lifted Jenna’s fringe from out of her eyes.
‘Yes, fake blood, Mum.’
‘What on earth were you doing today?’
‘Getting beaten up by a six-foot bloke in front of a dumpster.’
‘Of course you were, why do I even ask!’ She laughed. ‘I’ll never get used to the strange days you have. And you call it work.’ She shook her head and sprinkled a handful of parmesan over her bolognese. ‘Will it be on TV at some point?’
‘Uh huh, not sure it’s the kind of programme you’ll fancy watching though.’
‘Lots of sex and violence is there?’ Tony asked.
‘Yeah, just a bit. Past the watershed type of programme.’
‘Just your dad’s cup of tea, then.’
Tony wound spaghetti on to his fork and looked at his wife. ‘Not if my daughter’s getting beaten up, it’s not.’
‘I am playing a character you realise; I’m not actually getting hurt.’
Her dad grinned at her.
‘You don’t do anything else, do you?’ Kath raised her eyebrows. ‘You know... S.E.X,’ she mouthed.
‘No, but it’s sort of implied, but not in a nice way if you know what I mean.’ Jenna frowned. She’d come over to ask them something and she was getting grilled about what her character had been getting up to. ‘I’ve got another day filming next week when they find my body.’
‘Oh right. No, I’m definitely not going to be watching that then.’ She touched Jenna’s hand. ‘You should eat, love, if you’ve not had anything since lunchtime.’
Jenna sighed but stuck her fork in the spaghetti.
‘So, you wanted to ask us something?’ Kath reached for her glass of red wine.
‘Um yeah, so my agent phoned this evening to say I’ve been offered a part in a movie filming over the summer. It’s a featured character who crops up in various scenes, so it would be lots of work, really good money, and they hand-picked me.’ Jenna took a breath and chewed a mouthful of pasta. Her hands were sweating.
‘Well, that sounds fabulous, doesn’t it, Tony?’
‘It does. But why do you need to ask us – surely not permission to say yes to it – guaranteed work sounds bloody good to me.’
‘No, not your permission as such, it’s just, it’s filming down in Cornwall. The base is near the Lizard peninsular. I’d need to relocate there for the summer, and I just thought...’
‘You want to stay in the cottage, don’t you?’ Kath set down her wine.
‘It’s eight weeks’ constant work, Mum, the whole of July and August, with filming five days a week. It’s perfect. I’ve been thinking about it all the way over here. I can stay in the cottage and oversee the building work, film during the day and work on the garden in the evenings and weekends. Once the major stuff’s done I can even do the finishing bits like painting. I’d love to stay there and it saves you time and stress worrying about being miles away from the cottage while building work is going on.’
Jenna sat back in her chair and folded her arms. She held her breath and waited. Her dad nodded; her mum frowned.
‘It would be easier to not have to project manage from two hundred miles away, love.’ Tony smiled at Jenna and looked at Kath.
‘But Jenna’s never project managed anything in her life, plus she’ll be out working most of the time.’
Jenna decided not to give a smart-arse reply – she was confident that she’d be able to organise the work on the cottage by herself and work on set during the day, particularly if she was staying there. After all, she’d have a vested interest in getting the work finished and done on time if she was having to live in the mess. ‘You and Dad will be at the end of the phone if there are any issues or if I’m unsure about anything, won’t you?’
‘That’s true,’ Kath said slowly.
‘And it would be easier having Jenna down there keeping an eye on the place and how things are going – means you won’t worry quite so much. Helps her out too.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘Well.’ Kath placed her wine on the table. ‘I suppose you two are right. If you think you can do film work and manage the building work, then you’re welcome to try, love.’
~
After more chatting, half-finishing her plate of spaghetti and being force-fed a bowl of strawberries and cream, Jenna made it home. She closed the door behind her, any last bit of energy dispersing the moment she slipped her aching feet out of her shoes. Her one-bed flat was small, but it was her sanctuary.
It was dark and late and she was desperate for sleep. She went into her bedroom and looked in the mirror. Her blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and she could see the red stain in her fringe from the fake blood. Her blue eyes, framed by long lashes, were her best feature, but tiredness showed in her pale face. She took her laptop and sat cross-legged on her bed, propped up by pillows. She had an email from Beth with more details about the role in the 1940s-set Cornish film including dates and filming locations. The role she’d been offered was for a natural blonde, pretty, bubbly twenty-something woman and apparently she was it. Getting parts really was pot luck at times, but luck had been on her side, landing her a role that would make her decent money over the summer and allow her to escape to Cornwall.
~
Jenna was uncertain if the next few weeks dragged or flew by. They were filled with interspersed days filming mostly in or around London, but she had a night shoot in Brighton where she played a clubber, and spent four long hot sweaty nights dancing with and snogging a twenty-six-year-old called
