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

sunny view from the window as Natalie reaches inside the overhead and yanks hard at a designer purse.

Barcelona airport is an amazing mesh steel construction, and the modern design has almost everyone riveted. So I’m the only one watching as Natalie’s purse catches a little, and suddenly a flood of pill packages tumble out and onto the floor.

My eyes widen in alarm as I watch the blister packs scatter. Natalie curses and ducks down onto the floor.

Are they painkillers? Something else?

Her assistant Carol is in another part of the plane. And no one else seems to have heard the spillage. But from what I can see, they look like prescription drugs. Lots of them. And since Natalie has dived down to stuff them back in her purse, it seems she’s very keen to keep them hidden.

Her fumbling attracts the attention of an airhostess, who moves towards the spillage and stoops down to help.

“It’s fine,” hisses Natalie, trying to shoo her away. But the hostess has already seen the deluge of blister packs all over the airplane floor. She freezes in the act of helping.

“These need to be declared,” she tells Natalie in a thick Spanish accent. “Any drugs must be declared.”

I see Natalie turn her head left and right to check no one else is paying attention to what’s happened. I pretend to be looking at my lap.

“They’re prescriptions,” I hear Natalie say. “There’s nothing here that needs to be declared.”

I look up to see the airhostess is shaking her head.

Oh no. From the airhostess’s expression, it looks as though this is going to be an issue. A sudden headline shouts out at me. “Natalie Ennis arrested for drugs in Barcelona”.

Stupid, stupid Natalie. I feel like screaming in frustration.

Spanish law is strict on prescription medication. If this becomes a customs issue, then the press could easily become involved.

“Drugs need to be declared,” the airhostess is saying. “Spanish law.” But she’s frowning, as if she’s not quite sure what Natalie is saying.

Taking my moment, I slide off my seat and stoop down to join them.

“Es un problema no de,” I say, giving the hostess my best smile. “Estas solo vitaminas. De América.”

It’s not a problem. They’re only vitamins. From America.

The hostess looks uncertainly at me. But she at least seems reassured by someone who speaks her language. I smile again.

“They’ve been through customs already,” I say, continuing to speak in Spanish. “From America to England.”

I’m betting this is true, so I don’t feel so bad lying. I pick up a pack and tap the English writing on the back. It’s a drug name, which I’m unfamiliar with. But there is a price label with a dollar sign.

“You see,” I add. “American.”

The airhostess stands slowly, looking from me to Natalie. I stand too, pulling Natalie up by the arm and hoping no one else is paying attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the ever attentive Will has one eye on what’s happening. But everyone else seems too involved in the excitement of the landing. And the noise of the plane engine can still be heard.

“Ok,” says the hostess after a moment, looking at me. “But next time, they need a cabin label. Even vitamins.”

I nod, my face tight with smiling.

“Of course,” I reply in Spanish. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as the hostess turns away, and tighten my grip on Natalie’s arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I hiss. “What are all those pills?”

Natalie pulls her arm away from me and bends to scoop the pills back into her purse. She looks as though she’s going to cry.

“I need them,” she mutters. “Hey,” she adds, grabbing my arm, “don’t tell anyone.”

Her voice is small and sad. Like a little girl’s.

“Just keep them hidden, and declare them on the way back,” I mutter. My mind is still racing, but some of my anger towards her slides away.

I decide not to push the issue right now. She looks like she’s on the edge. But once the pills are safely back in her purse, Natalie’s frail expression vanishes.

She tosses her hair and reaches in her bag for a lipstick.

“I am so excited,” she beams, painting herself with a pink smile. “I love Spain.”

I sigh internally, and take a few steps away from her.

The momentousness of what has just happened is running through my head. Drugs. Do I need to tell James? The thought makes me feel sick.

They were only prescription drugs. Does that count?

Natalie’s been through rehab. Perhaps these are part of her treatment and James knows already. That seems likely. But why would she take such steps to hide them?

I push the thoughts to the back of my head, resolving to address them later.

During the flight, I’d been hoping to get more familiar with some of the crew, or at least speak with Callum. But the first class seats kept us spread far apart.

Not that I’m complaining. I’ve never flown first class before, and it was an amazing experience – even for a three hour flight.

I head off the plane, after Callum, and find that James has assembled us all in a group on the runway.

With the hot sun on my face, I feel the familiar thrill at being back in Spain. As a child, I often visited relatives with my mother, and I loved it.

“Everyone’s luggage has already been taken on to the hotel,” says James, speaking to all of us. “The bus will take you there now. The concierge will explain everything when you arrive. We don’t start shooting until tomorrow, so you have a half day to enjoy Barcelona.”

He turns to me.

“Isabella,” he says, “I’m afraid I have some costuming for you, which has to be done now. You’ll have to come with me and have that arranged before you have free time.”

“Bummer,” says Natalie, lowering her glasses to look at me. “We’ll be thinking of you when we’re sipping cocktails in the rooftop bar.”

James gives her a disapproving glance.

“Ok,” I say