The Director's Cut by Js Taylor (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud txt) 📕

Natalie from now on. Though I can’t help but agree with Callum. It took two whole days to load Natalie’s chalet, and from what I could make out, she wasn’t half done yet.

The sudden decision to fly out to Barcelona must have been a logistical nightmare for her staff.

My thoughts flit to Camilla. This sudden change of plans means further delays in bringing her back on set, since she’s not needed for the location scenes.

I’ve missed Camilla. In fact, I’m missing female company in general. I haven’t been able to get hold of Lorna.

She’s gone incommunicado for a few days. Which is nothing unusual for Lorna, since she can party for three days straight. But I’d love to hear what she’s up to, all the same. I could really use some girl-talk.

I look over to James. He’s talking with some of the crew, and I feel my heart ache. I’d love to go stand alongside him, but I know that would be unwise.

The noise of a plane forks suddenly overhead, and James makes a tiny movement, which I recognise as him flinching, and quickly collects himself.

What’s wrong, baby?

Then I realise. The plane overhead. Callum talked about helicopters arriving if the paparazzi got a good story. James is nervous about press attention before we leave.

All the more reason to stay away from him then. I sigh to myself, wondering briefly if there’s anything he hasn’t told me.

Callum catches the expression and gives me a puzzled glance. I shake my head that it’s nothing. And then a large bus rolls up in front of us. I presume it’s what’s been arranged to take us all to the airport.

I’ve been told the plan is for us to fly charter, since it would be too difficult to arrange clearance for a private jet. But James managed to have all of the first class deck booked out for the actors and crew.

Since I’ve never even seen inside first class, I’m super-excited. But I also feel a little sad that, during my first flight to Europe with James, we’ll be pretending to be work colleagues. Presumably sitting apart. But I squash the feeling.

It will all work out, Issy, I tell myself. You’ll be able to have a normal relationship soon. A less hopeful part of me is not sure that’s possible. Not with James Berkeley.

I turn my attention back to the bus. It’s huge. The kind of transport I can imagine rock stars using on tour.

“Wow,” I say to Callum. “That’s some bus.”

Will nods, letting out an appreciative whistle.

But Callum is shaking his head.

“James had better prepare himself for a battle,” he mutters. “He will never get Natalie Ennis on a bus.”

As Callum is saying this, a harassed looking woman appears on the horizon. I recognise her as Natalie’s personal assistant. I’ve seen Natalie ordering the poor woman to arrange a hat to be flown in from LA.

“Hello, Carol,” says Callum as the assistant draws closer.

“I’ve been sent to tell you, we’ll only be another ten minutes or so,” she explains. “Most of the packing has been finished. I’m sorry we’ve kept you waiting.”

Poor Carol! Having to apologise for Natalie.

Carol is in her late thirties, and I find myself wondering whether she finds it demeaning to carry out the demands of a woman at least ten years her junior.

Judging by Carol’s neat grey suit, she earns a reasonable salary for her efforts. But her limp brown hair, and lined face, suggests it’s taking its toll. She looks exhausted.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Callum generously. “We know you and the staff are doing all you can.”

Carol gives Callum a smile, but it looks like it takes some effort.

“I think it’s going to be difficult to persuade Natalie to get on the bus,” says Callum, gesturing to the transport.

Carol’s face falls. “There’s no limo? But I specifically requested…”

She looks over at James, and seems to be considering her position. I feel for her. I wouldn’t want to be placed between James’s authority and Natalie’s demands.

After a moment, she seems to decide against confronting James.

“I’ll go let Natalie know,” she sighs. And then she turns and walks dejectedly back down the pathway.

Callum raises his eyebrows as she goes.

“Oh dear,” he observes, “I feel sorry for Carol. Looks like we might be in for some fireworks. Let’s hope we can get Natalie on the flight sometime today.”

Chapter 5

We land in the steaming sunlight of Barcelona airport. And I can almost hear the crew breathe a collective sigh of relief.

As predicted, getting Natalie onto the bus was a nightmare, and almost all my emerging sympathy for her drained away during the trip.

First we all waited for half an hour whilst Natalie complained and fought for a limo to take her privately to the airport. Then, despite a first class seat, the airline wasn’t her favourite choice, so we had to hear her complain about that.

The only positive to the whole upheaval was watching how well James dealt with her. He was calm, assured, and firm, never losing his temper, but never letting her get her own way either.

As we boarded the plane, he snuck by my side and gave my hand a secret squeeze.

“How you doing?” he whispered in a voice which made my insides melt.

“Good,” I whispered back. “Way to go with Natalie. You’ll make a great father someday.”

His mouth twisted as he fought back a smile.

“I’m hoping children will be less hard work,” he replied. He squeezed my hand again. “I’ve got to be in a different part of the plane,” he added apologetically.

And then he was gone.

Now that we’ve landed in Spain, Natalie has thrown off the petulant child act and gone straight into travelling starlet. She dons shades, stretches elaborately, and treats us all to a wide smile.

“I love Europe,” she murmurs, standing in the aisle. “So much great culture. And parties!” She yawns like a cat and opens the baggage compartment.

Everyone else is taking their belts off and staring at the