Page 30 of Let’s Make a Scene

“You’re so wise.” I take a sip of the tea she hands me. “Like a beautiful owl.”

Hannah’s walkie-talkie crackles and her face lights up. “Okay,” she says. “Showtime!”

AS WE LEAVE THE TRAILER, Jack steps out of the one next door. Of course. I link my arm through Hannah’s, making sure we stay in front of him as we head to the spot where Logan and Jasmine are setting up for the first shot of the day.

According to the schedule there are eight shots—or setups—of this scene to film today, and I know—from the extremely intense amount of research I’ve been doing on the subject—that each one requires its own lighting and camera positioning. Still, it’s quite a different thing to know this fact and to see it in action.

“Greetings, you two gorgeous people.” Logan bounces up, a Labrador who has just been shown a tennis ball. “It’s here! Day one!”

Jasmine drifts along behind him, frowning and carrying a notebook in one hand and a cigarette in the other, which she waves in the air expressively. “I think we might have to add in a couple of lines of dialogue here,” she says to the woman beside her, who she introduces as Laurie, the script supervisor.

“Jas!” Logan shakes her arm. “Just be in the moment, will you? Day one!”

“I know it’s day one,” Jasmine says. “And I also know that somehow we’re already behind schedule. How have we managed that?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Well, on that stirring note, shall we start blocking our first scene?”

He guides us around the various cables and pieces of machinery. “So it’s a fairly light scene to kick off with,” he says. “Just a bit of jibber jabber as you walk.”

“Jibber jabber.” Jasmine closes her eyes, pained.

“We’ll start up here,” Logan says, and then he and Jasmine walk us through the shot, and we work out where we’ll stop and where we’ll turn, where all the cameras will be positioned, and where our eyelines have to be so that we’re always looking in the right direction. It’s a lot of information, and I’m focusing on it so hard that I don’t have time to dwell on Jack’s presence or the fact that a couple of hours ago he basically admitted he’s rooting for me to fail.

“Ah!” Logan suddenly gasps, delighted. “My sheep!” He lopes off, as a man appears with a truck carrying a bunch of very noisy, extremely woolly sheep.

“Him and his bloody mutton,” Jasmine says wearily, rubbing her forehead.

“They do look very… historical,” I admit, taking in their curly coats and horns as they’re unloaded. “Not like normal, modern sheep at all.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got the insane bill to prove it,” Jasmine says, clipped. “Spending all our damn budget on a bunch of fluffy mammals that are going to baa all over everyone’s lines. Apparently if they fall over, they can’t get themselves back up, so we’ve got a dedicated runner on sheep-tipping duty which is just…” She exhales—a sound of noisy exasperation.

Logan looks up from beside the sheep and waves to us, his grin wide, like a child on Christmas morning.

“Look at these fucking sheep!” he mouths, delighted.

Even Jasmine can’t help smiling a little at that, though she quickly covers it with her hand.

“Right, while my brother is busy with his new friends, let’s run through that again,” she says, shoving us back up the gentle grass slope.

“It has been quite the social season.” I say my line, trying not to look at my feet as we walk.

“And you and my brother have made a stir,” Jack responds, and he definitely doesn’t look like he’s thinking about the cameras at all. He’s already Edward, even in the middle of all this madness, still dressed in his jeans and a sweater. Somehow he’s shrugged the part on, as if it were a perfectly tailored jacket—made just for him.

He’s Edward, he’s Edward, he’s Edward, I tell myself.

“Do you—” I begin, but then I turn a fraction too early, and end up bashing into his side.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jack grumbles under his breath, Edward falling away. “This is really going to be a disaster if you can’t even walk in a straight line.”

He’s Edward, he’s Edward, he’s Edward, I tell myself again, gritting my teeth as we head back to our first position. He’s funny and handsome and intriguing, and he’s your fiancé’s off-limits brother, who you fancy the pants off. He is not a terrible excuse for a human who you’d like to push down this hill.

We go through the scene and make it to the end this time, without any more disasters.

“Okay, Cynthie,” Logan calls from behind the monitor, having abandoned the sheep for the time being. “It looks like you’re a bit off your mark at the end there, so can we make sure you stop right on that last line, please.” There’s exasperation in his voice.

“Of course, sorry,” I mumble.

“Jack, that was perfect,” he adds. “Don’t change a thing, not a thing.”