‘I was practising for you.’ Now that he was standing right there in front of her, though, every word she’d spoken seemed to have scattered from her head. I’ll have to re-improv!
There was no time to stop and think, though, not when he might be distracted by his exhibit at any moment. ‘Um,’ Olivia said hastily, and drew a shallow breath. ‘How’s Lillian? Is she OK?’
‘Lillian?’ Charles half-frowned . . . and Olivia’s heart sank as she saw his gaze pass around the room, obviously starting to catalogue his artefacts again. His lips pursed as his gaze focused on one particular candlestick nearby.
‘Lillian, Dad?’ Olivia prompted him.
‘Oh, right.’ Reaching for his notebook, Charles started to scribble down a note. ‘Of course Lillian’s OK,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn’t she be? We’ve gotten over the wedding stress, and we’re settling into married life in Franklin Grove.’ He flipped over a new page in the notebook and kept on scribbling, sketching out what looked like a re-design of the room.
Olivia gritted her teeth. ‘Maybe Lillian wants to be involved in this exhibit,’ she suggested. ‘It would be a good way for you to spend time together.’
‘Oh, no.’ Charles shook his head – and none-too-subtly re-angled himself to take a good look at the Triptych. ‘Lillian’s not all that interested in history,’ he said. Lowering his pen for a moment, he gave Olivia a small smile. ‘Plus, it’s good for couples to have separate interests. You’ll learn that when you’re older.’
Olivia stared at her bio-dad in disbelief, forcing herself to let out her frustration in a long, rippling sigh. There was obviously no point in talking to Charles about the problem because, as far as he was concerned, there was no problem.
And maybe there isn’t, she told herself. Maybe I’ve just been over-thinking everything.
But she didn’t believe that.
Charles’s gaze had already moved back to the Triptych, and Olivia gave up.
‘I’ll leave you to your work,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I can’t wait for the exhibit this weekend.’
‘Yes, yes . . .’ Charles’s voice followed her out of the room. ‘Perhaps if I re-organised them by their Latin classifications . . .’
Shaking her head, Olivia fumbled her way out of the museum, past dust-covered artefacts and spooky shadows. It was a relief to step out into the fresh air, even though the sky was dark outside. As the big oak door fell shut behind her with a boom, the cellphone in her purse rang.
For the first time in hours, Olivia relaxed. I know that ringtone.
Oh, it was so the right time to hear Jackson’s voice!
She pulled the phone out of her purse and clicked it on to see her boyfriend’s very famous face fill the very tiny screen. This wasn’t just a phone call – it was a video call. Even better. ‘Hey, you!’ she said. ‘Can you see the creepy place I’m coming out of?’ She waved the phone at the bulky museum hulking behind her in the shadows.
‘Wow.’ Jackson’s eyebrows rose. ‘Franklin Grove just keeps on getting more interesting. Are you sure you haven’t snuck back on to some Hollywood set?’
‘Very funny.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘So, how are you?’
‘Well . . .’ He drew a breath. ‘I was actually calling because I want your advice. What do you know about the Wanderer trilogy?’
‘Hmm.’ Spotting an empty bus stop ahead, Olivia headed towards it. I’d better sit down for this one! Parking herself on the metal bench, she said, ‘Well, I’ve heard of it – I mean, who hasn’t? Those books are huge. But I’ve never read them.’ She shrugged. ‘Stories about the end of the world aren’t my thing.’
‘No?’ Jackson frowned. ‘That’s interesting.’ For a moment, he was silent, obviously thinking things over. Then he said, ‘Amy just called me.’ Amy Teller was Jackson’s agent – Olivia’s too, some of the time. ‘She says that Jacob Harker’s going to be producing the film version of the trilogy. He wants to know if I’m interested.’
Olivia let out a snort of pure surprise. ‘Isn’t the main character a guy in his mid-forties? I know you’re a great actor, but I’m not sure even you could pull that off!’
Jackson laughed, his face breaking into the megawatt grin she’d seen on a zillion different magazine covers. ‘No, I’d be playing the role of the main character’s son, who dies at the very beginning – but haunts him all through the first movie.’
‘Ah!’ Olivia gasped with mock horror. ‘Spoilers! How could you tell me that?’
‘Like you were ever going to read a story about a war-ravaged Planet Earth stalked by hideous monsters?’ Jackson teased. ‘Hold on, I got another call coming in.’
Olivia waited, watching Jackson typing something on his keyboard.
Then a shadow fell over her.
Uh-oh. Olivia swivelled around in her seat and saw a girl a couple of years older than her staring at the picture on Olivia’s cellphone screen. She must have been on her way to the bus stop when she’d heard Jackson speaking, and now she looked ready to pass out from sheer excitement. ‘Is that really . . . the Jackson Caulfield . . . on your phone? Is he, like, video-calling you personally?’
Oh, no. Olivia had encountered Jackson’s super-fans before. Some of them had even chased her through the streets of London when they were there filming Eternal Sunset! If this girl was one of them, she’d bombard Jackson with questions for the rest of the phone call – if she didn’t faint right here on the pavement.