up plenty of American slang, as well as a bit of an accent, but would it be enough to wipe out her native language patterns?
‘What was it he or she said?’ she asked, trying to sound relaxed.
Megan read the article aloud. Genevieve listened, even though she already knew the words off by heart. Perhaps she was safe. It wasn’t as if she’d said the actress was a bloody drongo, a stupid sheila, or spoken in any recognisably Australian way. She was saved from having to comment by Megan’s phone ringing. As her friend launched into a lengthy retelling of the morning’s drama, Genevieve took the opportunity to set out her brushes, clips and sprays, pretending it was a normal morning.
Think, Genevieve
. What could she do about this? What
should
she do?
Confess.
Where had that come from? The depths of her Catholic upbringing? It sounded like something her mother would say. Angela had always insisted on the truth at home. Throughout their school years – at the local school in Hawker and then at their very Catholic boarding school in Adelaide – she and Victoria had often rolled their eyes about it, and challenged her too. Genevieve generally started it. ‘That’s all very well, Mum, but if we do everything the Bible tells us to —’
‘Always turn the other cheek and always think of others —’ Victoria continued.
‘And always stop to help every poor unfortunate person we see on the side of the road —’
‘We’ll never get
anything
done,’ Victoria would finish.
‘They’re not rigid rules, they’re guidelines,’ their mother would say.
Guidelines to a boring life, Genevieve and Victoria decided between themselves. So as teenagers, they’d come to the conclusion that what their parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Megan was still talking to her friend, reading out the article again. Genevieve didn’t want to hear it. She started rearranging her already arranged brushes, just for something to do.
Megan finally hung up. Her phone immediately buzzed again. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed across to Genevieve. She wasn’t sorry, Genevieve could see it. Megan loved being at the centre of the day’s top gossip story. As Megan launched into the tale yet again, Genevieve picked up her phone to call Victoria. Her number was ringing when the door of the trailer opened. It was Tim, the assistant director, Megan’s current boyfriend. He knew something, Genevieve could tell from his expression. She hung up. Across the trailer, so did Megan.
‘Well?’ Megan said.
‘We’re about to be called together. In fifteen minutes’ time, on set. They want a confession. If the person who blabbed doesn’t tell all by eleven a.m. today, the whole unit shuts down. We get a surprise day off. Possibly a surprise week off. A couple of surprise months off, the way the industry is at the moment.’
Megan’s reaction was noisy enough to cover Genevieve’s shocked silence. So Genevieve was now not just responsible for hundreds of thousands of dollars of lost investor money, but also the livelihoods of more than a hundred people? Her heart started beating faster.
‘And if the person does confess?’ Was that really her talking? That calm, quiet voice?
‘They lose their job but we keep ours. The show goes on. One falls for the sake of many. That’s what we’re all about to hear. A no-brainer really.’
Genevieve thought of the bills on the table in her apartment. The credit card bill in particular. She thought of next month’s rent, due in five days’ time. She had already paid for her airfare to Australia. Could she cash it in, not go back? No, she was longing to see Victoria. And her parents. Lindy. Ig. Then she thought of Bill, the lighting guy. His wife had just had their first baby. She knew that Ron, in set construction, was trying to buy an apartment. The actress at the centre of this would get another job, another role, another magazine cover. But the others?
Tim was right. It was a
‘What was it he or she said?’ she asked, trying to sound relaxed.
Megan read the article aloud. Genevieve listened, even though she already knew the words off by heart. Perhaps she was safe. It wasn’t as if she’d said the actress was a bloody drongo, a stupid sheila, or spoken in any recognisably Australian way. She was saved from having to comment by Megan’s phone ringing. As her friend launched into a lengthy retelling of the morning’s drama, Genevieve took the opportunity to set out her brushes, clips and sprays, pretending it was a normal morning.
Think, Genevieve
. What could she do about this? What
should
she do?
Confess.
Where had that come from? The depths of her Catholic upbringing? It sounded like something her mother would say. Angela had always insisted on the truth at home. Throughout their school years – at the local school in Hawker and then at their very Catholic boarding school in Adelaide – she and Victoria had often rolled their eyes about it, and challenged her too. Genevieve generally started it. ‘That’s all very well, Mum, but if we do everything the Bible tells us to —’
‘Always turn the other cheek and always think of others —’ Victoria continued.
‘And always stop to help every poor unfortunate person we see on the side of the road —’
‘We’ll never get
anything
done,’ Victoria would finish.
‘They’re not rigid rules, they’re guidelines,’ their mother would say.
Guidelines to a boring life, Genevieve and Victoria decided between themselves. So as teenagers, they’d come to the conclusion that what their parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Megan was still talking to her friend, reading out the article again. Genevieve didn’t want to hear it. She started rearranging her already arranged brushes, just for something to do.
Megan finally hung up. Her phone immediately buzzed again. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed across to Genevieve. She wasn’t sorry, Genevieve could see it. Megan loved being at the centre of the day’s top gossip story. As Megan launched into the tale yet again, Genevieve picked up her phone to call Victoria. Her number was ringing when the door of the trailer opened. It was Tim, the assistant director, Megan’s current boyfriend. He knew something, Genevieve could tell from his expression. She hung up. Across the trailer, so did Megan.
‘Well?’ Megan said.
‘We’re about to be called together. In fifteen minutes’ time, on set. They want a confession. If the person who blabbed doesn’t tell all by eleven a.m. today, the whole unit shuts down. We get a surprise day off. Possibly a surprise week off. A couple of surprise months off, the way the industry is at the moment.’
Megan’s reaction was noisy enough to cover Genevieve’s shocked silence. So Genevieve was now not just responsible for hundreds of thousands of dollars of lost investor money, but also the livelihoods of more than a hundred people? Her heart started beating faster.
‘And if the person does confess?’ Was that really her talking? That calm, quiet voice?
‘They lose their job but we keep ours. The show goes on. One falls for the sake of many. That’s what we’re all about to hear. A no-brainer really.’
Genevieve thought of the bills on the table in her apartment. The credit card bill in particular. She thought of next month’s rent, due in five days’ time. She had already paid for her airfare to Australia. Could she cash it in, not go back? No, she was longing to see Victoria. And her parents. Lindy. Ig. Then she thought of Bill, the lighting guy. His wife had just had their first baby. She knew that Ron, in set construction, was trying to buy an apartment. The actress at the centre of this would get another job, another role, another magazine cover. But the others?
Tim was right. It was a
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