Page 29 of Let’s Make a Scene

“Remind me.” Hannah frowns down at the binder that hasn’t left her hands all morning. (I’m more than half convinced that she slept with it on the pillow beside her.) “Third assistant director…”

“Ah.” Arjun nods. “Basically, Jan—that’s Janice Howard, the second AD—coordinates everything from base.” Here he gestures toward the cluster of trailers and canopies over to one side of the building that looks like the backstage area of a circus. “She knows exactly where everyone is supposed to be and when, and then I run around herding people while she tells me where to go.” He lifts his walkie-talkie. “I’ve got Cynthie,” he says into it. “We’re walking now.”

He turns back to us. “Let me show you to your trailer, while everyone finishes setting up, then we’ll get you into rehearsal.”

“Sounds good,” I manage, my stomach in knots once more.

As if things hadn’t been bad enough before my blowup with Jack this morning, now I get to hear his words ringing in my ears too. For a moment I almost felt guilty when I watched my own insults hit home—the man might be a wet sneeze in human form, but he’s undeniably talented. It’s interesting that he isn’t quite as sure of himself as he likes people to think. The things he said, though… well, best not to dwell on that, or I really will throw up.

“So, this is your first movie, right?” Arjun says as he strides along, his long legs eating up the distance, while Hannah and I trot behind.

“Yeah.” I smile weakly. “I guess it’s going to be a steep learning curve.” I glance around as we dart past dozens of busy people.

Arjun laughs. “Don’t be intimidated by the setup. There are a lot of people but that’s because everyone has a specific job. Think of us like a well-oiled machine—we keep things running smoothly so that you can concentrate on your part.”

“It’s actually my part that has me worried at the moment,” I admit.

“That’s totally normal.” Arjun’s voice is reassuring. “I’ve worked on a bunch of films now and I have yet to meet an actor who doesn’t get first-day jitters… or fourth-day jitters for that matter.” He guides us past a large, tented canopy and a couple of food trucks, waving at people as we pass. “Craft services are here.” He gestures. “They’ve got snacks, hot and cold drinks, and they’ll serve lunch and dinner here too.”

We keep walking and he stops in front of a small trailer. There’s a piece of paper taped to the door that says cynthie taylor.

I stop in my tracks. “Wow,” I whisper.

“Oh my goddddddd!” Hannah squeals. “Cynthie! Your name on a TRAILER!”

“We should take a picture,” I say, dazed.

Of course nothing throws Hannah, and she digs a camera out of her massive bag. Arjun is more than happy to snap half a dozen photos of the two of us standing by my name.

“Do you think you’re ready to see inside?” he asks finally, clearly entertained.

The inside of the trailer is very ordinary and very beige and I’m obsessed with it, and insist Hannah takes pictures of me sitting on the sofa, turning on the kettle, admiring the empty shelves like I’m starring in a catalog for extremely bland trailers.

“Okay,” Arjun says finally, “I’ve got to jet. Before I forget, Hannah, here’s your walkie-talkie. It’s already tuned in to the right frequency, but let me know if you have any problems.” He pulls a handheld radio from his belt and gives it to Hannah, who looks like she’s going to burst into tears.

“Wait, wait,” I say. “Arjun, hand it to Hannah again, I need to get a photo.” And I click the button on the camera as Arjun good-naturedly presents the walkie-talkie like it’s a sacred offering. Hannah thrusts it victoriously up into the sky, and I snap away as she and Arjun laugh.

“I’m sorry,” I say in the end. “I promise we’re going to be cool and professional now.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Arjun replies, already on the move, and I have the feeling that this superhero-style blur of activity is him in his natural state.

“I’m going to make you that peppermint tea,” Hannah says after he closes the door behind him, “and then I’ll get you some breakfast when you’re in hair and makeup. Unless you want something now?”

“Tea is good,” I say, perching on the narrow sofa. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat anything.”

“Of course you will,” Hannah replies. “You’ll get used to all this; we both will. It’s not always going to be so overwhelming.”

“It seems impossible.” I glance out the window at the mass of activity.

“Remember when we started secondary school?” Hannah says, dunking tea bags into two cups. “And it was an enormous labyrinth full of a million giant teenagers and we were so freaked out we hid in Miss Fletcher’s supply cupboard during lunch?”

“You shared your KitKat with me,” I say.

“I’ll always share my KitKat with you, Cyn.” Hannah grins. “The point is, we got through that, and within a few weeks we were basically running the place. It’ll be the same here.”

“I think your memories of school and mine are quite different,” I say, but Hannah makes a dismissive gesture.

“It’s all just people,” she says. “Soon, this will feel normal. You’ve just got to ride it out.”