by Brigid Coady
Was it true?
She couldn’t blame the feeling on being surprised any more. Why couldn’t she be immune to it or desensitized or something? Surely she should be used to this slow low-grade torture by now?
It wasn’t anything to do with her any more. He’d moved on. She wasn’t Annie-matronix to him anymore. She was the junior producer, and she would be businesslike.
Annie could see Harry and Lewis were beckoning to her. How did she gracefully decline?
Marie sat smugly a few seats in front of them. Annie still wasn’t sure how her sister had managed to get an invite to a team-building exercise. After all she was merely a journalist who was covering the making of the series for her TV show. Surely they should have been keeping the press away? But then she’d never been very good at saying no to Marie.
‘Annie!’ John said from the row in front of the fearsome foursome, and behind Marie, and patted the seat next to him.
She couldn’t help glancing up at Austen. He looked at her with no expression. He then bent to listen to Louisa who was whispering in his ear.
Crap.
She either upset John who was a nice guy or she upset herself sitting near Austen. Why didn’t she ever get the easy dilemmas? She was going to hurt herself again wasn’t she?
‘Well hello.’
She hadn’t realized that she wasn’t the last one on the bus. A soft voice in her ear made her take a step forward and quickly take an empty seat near the front, throwing a grimacing look at John, to show she was getting seated quickly and he shouldn’t take it personally.
And then the newcomer slipped into the seat beside her.
Annie couldn’t help but stare at him incredulously. Why had he picked this one when there were spare seats up near Austen? Up with the ‘in crowd’?
A pair of very blue eyes smiled down at her.
‘Anne Elliot,’ Will Elliot said. ‘I feel like you’ve been ignoring me.’
What the …? Okay, he was probably right, but he was spending all his time with Immy and Dad.
‘Is it because I’m the black sheep of the family?’
She burst out laughing.
He’d said it in her father’s voice and looked coyly up through his eyelashes in an uncanny impression of Immy when she wanted something.
Annie could feel her shoulders relax as she let the laugh run through her and take some of her tension with it.
Looking up she saw Immy glaring at her from further down the coach. She was next to Dad who was holding forth across the aisle to Josephine Deakin who played Mrs Bennet.
Her laugh petered out.
Should she move? Let Immy sit here? Hell, why should she? He’d chosen to sit with her, hadn’t he? And like that the tension was back.
Annie turned back and smiled at him, taking him in. Will was tall and kind of gangly but she knew he wasn’t as tall as Austen. There was something around the eyes that reminded her of Dad and Immy. She had thought he looked foxy but now she looked more closely, she realized his eyes were a little closer together and gave him the look of a Siamese cat.
‘So, cuz, what’s the gossip? Who’s sleeping with whom? Who hates each other? I mean except for the obvious make-up versus Bennet sister feud.’
Annie couldn’t help herself – she giggled.
This was much safer. No sad puppy eye looks from John and no deadpan stares from Austen. And if Immy gave her hell she’d just say she was helping out the family. Will seemed harmless enough. And he definitely didn’t make her yearn for something bigger, something lost.
‘No gossip,’ she said.
‘Not even our resident Hollywood hunk and the rumoured hook-up with Lizzy Bennet?’ He waggled his eyebrows.
He might as well have punched her. It had the same outcome. Air puffed out of her mouth. Her poor abused stomach muscles, which had just settled down after her Tumblr checking, clenched from taking that blow.
Then oxygen started to flow into her brain.
That’s bullshit.
She knew it because if it was anyone he was seeing it was Louisa. Maybe she’d reacted so badly because she’d expected him to say Louisa not Lizzy?
Anyway, she looked round. Why did he think that when Diana was currently cuddled up with Olivia sharing earbuds? Their hands tucked under a hoodie across their laps.
Maybe Will read Tumblr as well?
Or maybe he was feeding the gossip mill?
He wouldn’t, would he? Not after the hell the gossip sites and tabloid newspapers had put him through over the past few years.
She shivered.
‘Sorry, have I said something wrong?’ Will asked.
Crap. She’d been quiet too long? She had to get used to being asked about Austen as if it was nothing. As if her whole being wasn’t aligned to him.
‘No, I was just trying to work out how that gossip came about. As far as I know they haven’t really been around each other …’
‘It’ll be the tabloids and blogs then. They abhor a vacuum so they make up stuff to fill it.’
Was that what happened to you? Annie almost said but stopped herself. It was rude to allude to someone else’s love life and drug-riddled past when everything you knew you’d picked up from the newspapers.
She stared at him, mouth wide. Think, Annie, say something.
He winked.
She laughed.
The awkward moment dissolved. She was such a hypocrite, she thought. She was making assumptions based on what was said in the newspapers, when she knew they made things up.
‘Although he does seem to like our Kitty, doesn’t he?’ Will said peering over the seat to the back of the coach.
The laughter died in her throat. Of course sometimes the gossip sites got it right.
Could you get travel-sick on a stationary coach?
Chapter Twelve
‘So we’ll be dividing you into groups. We want to have cast and crew scattered between the teams so that we can get to know each other. This is going to be fun.’
Annie was now regretting making Tanya her deputy on this. She was relishing her role as games master rather too much. Soon Tanya would be screaming, ‘Release the tracker jackers!’ or whatever those awful Hunger Games wasps were, and talking about how they should be making alliances to survive.
‘Fingers crossed we’re on the same team,’ Will said as he bumped his arm against her shoulder.
‘Sorry, I’m one of the people doing the observing to make sure no one cheats or starts a riot,’ Annie said looking round the clearing and hoping Tanya had been listening when they’d talked about the best mix of people.
‘Then I hope you’ll be observing me. Closely.’
Annie knew she was supposed to feel flattered that Will was flirting with her. Instead she felt oddly cold and flat. She needed to concentrate on making the day a success, prove that she could do this job. Personal issues pushed to the side.
Please God, she thought as she chewed on her fingernail, let me catch a break just this once. I want a team I know no one in.
Obviously God didn’t pick up her message. That or they were screening her calls.
‘So now we have Team Persuasion,’ Tanya called.
Annie smiled. She had let Tanya name the teams; it turned out she was a massive Jane Austen fan.
‘Austen Wentworth, Louisa Musgrove, John Benwick, Caroline Turner, Sasha Fenwick, and Neil Horan,’ Tanya shouted out.
A good mix of cast and crew: Caroline in wardrobe, Sasha in make-up, and Neil one of the lighting crew. Annie put her professional head on trying to forget that Austen and Louisa didn’t need to do any team building.
There was a fleeting thought that maybe Austen had talked to Tanya to try and fix it that way.
‘And now for the observer – we decided to assign them from the production team and completely randomly. So here goes …’ Tanya dug into a plastic bag with paper squares folded over. She pulled one free and opened it.
‘And Team Persuasion’s observer i
s … Annie Elliot.’
Bugger.
Deep joy. Maybe she could persuade someone to swap with her.
‘Lucky you,’ Will said with a small pout, his lower lip pushed out, mocking her.
‘You fancy moving into production for the day?’ she said.
‘What and deprive you of time with the great Austen Wentworth? Never. The Wentwitches aren’t people I want on my tail.’ Will made his usually narrow eyes wide in mock horror.
Annie laughed, hoping that it didn’t come out too strangled.
I can do this. I can do this.
She repeated it to herself like a mantra as she shuffled her way to the team. Caroline, head of wardrobe, who Annie knew was usually cool and never got star struck, was attempting to look disinterested but every so often was turning back to the rest of the wardrobe team making thumbs-up signs. Obviously their hatred of the cast didn’t extend to Austen. Neil, a bottle blond and part of the lighting crew, slouched over scratching his head.
Annie looked towards Austen to find him watching her, before he turned to talk with Louisa.
Maybe it would get easier, she thought. She had to get used to the fact that at some point he was going to end up with someone. She was surprised he hadn’t already been snapped up. But it looked like Louisa was going to be the one.
Annie watched as Louisa’s finger made a trail down Austen’s arm.
It felt like it was drawing a cut down her heart.
Fuck.
The rest of the teams were quickly assigned. Good, Tanya had got a good mix in the teams. She’d even included Marie in one. That was one way of keeping a check on her.
‘Okay, here is the set of instructions for each team.’ Tanya waved a set of plastic folders over her head. Annie calculated that this month’s stationery bill was going to be higher than she thought.
‘All mobile phones will be handed over before the start. We want you engaging with each other not posting selfies on social media.’ There was a groan and complaints from all corners. ‘Shush, you lot. Now there are five challenges. You have to complete each challenge to find the map coordinates for the next challenge. You all start at different points. The winners are the ones who complete all the challenges first and get back here. And before you try, the observers don’t know the answers so there is no use trying to bribe them.’
The five teams all lunged for the plastic folders. Harry and Austen laughingly fought over one of the packets, as they were the tallest. Austen won, hooted, and tore it open.
Annie hung back while everyone else hung over him, Louisa nudging Sasha out of the way to try and lean her chin on his shoulder.
‘Okay, we’ve a map and compass, and the first challenge,’ Austen said. ‘John, you did that soldier type stuff at uni didn’t you?’
‘It was called the OTC, Aus.’
‘Yeah, soldier stuff.’ Austen thrust the map and compass at John. ‘Soldier away.’ He gave him a sharp and snappy salute. The team fell about laughing. Annie felt left out, but that was her lot wasn’t it? Always observing.
***
Annie watched as the team crawled under a cargo net for the second challenge. John’s orienteering skills still seemed sharp, meaning that they were convinced they had a good chance of winning. Annie was glad she didn’t have to take part. Even standing around she could feel sweat dripping down her neck. Her hair at the nape of her neck was soaked through. Had it only been four days ago she’d been huddled in her winter coat in the stables?
She propped herself against a tree next to Sasha, who had already finished her crawling section.
‘Bloody hell, whose idea was team building anyway?’ Sasha said. ‘The cast is a bunch of spoiled brats.’ She pulled her shirt away from her stomach. ‘Well except for Austen, of course. John and Harry aren’t bad either. Oh …’
Annie knew without looking that Sasha had suddenly realized who she was talking to.
‘I wouldn’t worry about it. They are brats.’ Annie knew it wasn’t professional but who cared? However, she wasn’t going to tell Sasha that the team building had been her idea.
Annie swallowed, her throat dry. Water. She needed water. There should be a stocked-up cold box near the next challenge.
‘That is it,’ Austen said from beside the cargo net. ‘It’s too bloody hot.’
Annie looked up as Austen pulled off his T-shirt.
Holy mother of …
But if she needed any sign that he was no longer her Austen this was it.
Where he’d once been soft skin over bone and lean muscle he was now whipcord hard. Not big muscles but long and lean and not an inch of softness.
He used to have skin like marble. Glowing in the morning sun as he stretched in their tiny bed. Now he was golden, as if dipped in a vat of honey.
Now she didn’t need water, because her mouth watered to see if he tasted like her Austen or whether that had changed too.
‘Oh, the famous tattoo,’ Louisa said, her eyes as wide as Annie knew hers were. ‘So that’s what it looks like in real life.’
Annie’s back stiffened at the word ‘tattoo’. She didn’t know that Austen had a tattoo. She had been avoiding any gossip on him for years, but there hadn’t been a tattoo eight years ago.
Then it struck her. Why didn’t Louisa know what it looked like in real life? Were they only fumbling with the lights off, or did Austen not take off his shirt?
Oh, she thought a second later, and then relief rolled through her, her legs weak as the tension she didn’t know she was carrying flowed out of her.
Louisa had never seen Austen topless because contrary to the rumours they hadn’t been shagging.
Pumping her fist in the air was not the thing to do. Annie had to pull her arm back quickly.
Then she saw it. The curving lines, the black ink over his heart. The shading was exactly as she’d drawn it.
But it couldn’t be. Why would he have gone through with it? Why not? a traitorous voice thought. You did.
They were supposed to have gotten tattoos together; that had been the plan. Instead it seemed they had got them apart.
She could remember it as if it were yesterday.
‘I want a tattoo,’ she said throwing her bag on the seat the other side of Austen. They were at The Carpenters Arms around the corner from Austen’s flat.
She leaned over and kissed him quickly, pulling back so she could keep some portion of her mind from going to mush. He had this magnetic pull; as soon as she was close to him she wanted to fall into him, stay attached.
‘And what has brought this on?’ He smiled at her. His mouth wide and his eyes crinkling up, Austen smiled with his whole face.
The itch and burn that had been with her since she’d fought with her dad earlier that day eased as she basked in the light that seemed to glow from him.
‘I want something that makes me Annie. Something that I put on my skin to show that I’m more than a damn Elliot – that I am Anne first and “his” daughter second.’
She would have shed her skin if she could. Shucked it off and given it back.
‘So how does disfiguring yourself make you more you? You don’t need to scribble on yourself to be more you.’
He leaned forward and kissed her nose.
She crinkled it up, as his breath tickled.
‘It isn’t disfiguring myself.’
How could she explain it to someone who was so comfortable in his own skin? Austen was someone who knew who he was from his inside out, from his bones through to his skin.
‘I want something to remind me that I’m Annie. That I count.’
Austen pulled her into his lap.
‘Hey, I’m too heavy.’
She tried to shift and hold her weight off his legs by bracing her hands on the table.
‘Shush, you’re perfect.’ He hummed it in her ear and then because he knew it turned her to putty, he started singing Feckless Rogues songs, his singing voice raspier than his speaking voice.
‘Our memories mix with melodies,
Play the soundtrack with our tears.’
She leant her head back on his shoulder, letting the music melt into her bones. Realigning her. Music and Austen were the two things that made her feel like herself.
‘Maybe I should have the Feckless Rogues logo tattooed on me, to remind me of you,’ she whispered. That way she could have music and Austen with her constantly.
‘I’ll always be around for you, Annie-mated. Why would you need a reminder?’ He kissed behind her ear.
She wished she could have his calm confidence. People left, they got bored, or they didn’t care enough. Or she cared too much.
‘I know,’ Austen said. ‘If you’re going to doodle on yourself, you get the bee and I’ll get the skull. Two halves of a whole, only complete when we’re together.’
It was sappy, she knew, and stupid, in retrospect. But she wanted to believe; he made her believe in fairy tales.
She’d even been the one to doodle it. The Feckless Rogues’ logo – the honeybee and the skull that crowned it – that was on all their merchandise.
‘I’ll have the skull over my heart and you’ll have the bee on your shoulder. Then when we’re spooning they line up.’ He’d cuddled her close in their bed when he’d said it. Their hands clasped, his heart to her shoulder.
And now eight years later she recognized the skull over his heart as the one she’d once drawn on a piece of paper.
Why?
Annie felt like she’d been slammed with a rock. Her shoulder blade itched where her half of the tattoo was. Could a piece of skin yearn to be complete?
Austen wasn’t looking at her; he was staring down at his chest with a frown on his face as if he wasn’t sure how the skull had got there.
Annie watched. As if in slow motion, Louisa’s finger reached out to trace the rounded curve of the skull.
A strangled sound erupted from Annie’s lungs and ripped through her throat and out into the clearing they were standing in.
Every head turned as one. They all looked at her in surprise. Louisa’s hand halted mere millimetres from Austen’s skin. Annie wondered if she could blame her red face on sunburn. The thought of Louisa tracing the tattoo made her feel sick, made her want to reach out and grab her finger, bending it back until it broke.
