A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

Zack was adamant that the two of them could manage, so out they went in a good-natured bustle of stainless-steel dishes and romantic hopes (on one side, at least). I shut the door after them and sat on one of the folding chairs, suddenly feeling very old and very, very alone.

A fresh burst of rain spattered against the window at the end of the truck, and there was a flash of lightning. The lights flickered again. I decided I wouldn’t hang around waiting for the generator to conk out; I’d clean down and get everything shipshape for tomorrow. Zack could wash up what was left on his own; I wasn’t going to sit here and wait for his party to finish.

I tied the handles of the plastic rubbish bag full of fish waste together and put it by the door, then did the same with the bag of vegetable peelings and other junk; they could go in the big plastic wheelie bin in the courtyard when I left. I carefully washed down the chopping board and knives that Zack had used, first with hot, soapy water and then with bleach; I didn’t want to take any chances with possible contamination from the pufferfish guts.

I had just filled the sink with more hot soapy water and plunged my hands in when the lights went out. Oh, wonderful, I thought. There are few less convenient places to find yourself during a blackout than with your hands in a sink full of soapy water (although I can think of a couple, both of which involve having your pants down), particularly when that sink is situated in a cramped caravan full of sharp utensils, parked in the grounds of a remote country manor house. During a thunderstorm. On a cursed film set.

Stop it, stop it, stop it! I told myself. Stop thinking about stupid curses. There was an ominous rumble of thunder – but then let’s face it, all rumbles of thunder are ominous – as I fumbled along the counter for a tea towel. There was a crash as I knocked something on the floor. So that wasn’t the tea towel.

‘Bugger,’ I muttered, and it felt weird, talking to myself in the silent food truck. Silent, apart from the meteorological Armageddon that suddenly seemed to be taking place outside.

The door rattled. I froze. Was it just the wind that had picked up and was clearly thinking about howling around the trailers? Was Zack coming back for more noodles? Was it the Phantom Shoot Saboteur, coming to … what? Hide all the tea towels? I laughed (almost) to myself; if he (or she) turned up now, I’d have to ask them what on earth they were trying to achieve, because so far they’d just been bloody irritating…

The door opened with a bang and I shrieked.

‘Jodie?’

The lights came on and there stood Nathan on the steps, soaking wet, peering anxiously inside. I almost collapsed with relief.

‘Oh sweet holy mother of— Come in, you berk!’ I said, reaching out to haul him in out of the rain by his coat lapels. He tripped over the doorstep and put out a hand to stop himself falling over, and ended up clutching at me, his arm half around my waist. He pulled himself upright but didn’t let go, and stared into my eyes. I felt my knees turn to jelly, not from being within swooning distance of him, I told myself, but as a delayed reaction to the shock. Yeah, I didn’t believe it either.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he said, looking slightly alarmed himself. I forced my knees to behave and straightened myself up.

‘I wasn’t scared!’ I said. Methinks the lady doth protest too much, whispered the little voice in my head.

‘Yeah, right.’ Nathan grinned. ‘It’s a good job you weren’t, because I was terrified.’

I laughed, noticing that neither of us was in a hurry to move apart. Even though he was bundled up in a thick coat, I could smell his aftershave, or deodorant, or whatever it was; he always smelt so nice and clean…

‘So what brings you out on a night like this?’ I asked him, gazing up at him in what I hoped was a coquettish fashion, rather than looking like I’d lost one of my contact lenses. He took a deep breath.

‘Jodie,’ he began. He seemed nervous. My tummy-eel decided to do a quick lap of my lower intestine. Did he (Nathan, not my tummy-eel, which was just as likely to be female as it was male) … did he have some news about his new job? Did I want to hear it? Would it be bad? Should I stop asking stupid hypothetical questions and babbling about imaginary aquatic creatures living in my abdomen and just listen to him? Did I—?

We were both completely thrown by the loud, hysterical scream that echoed across the courtyard, and the cries for help that followed.

Chapter Fourteen

We dashed outside and looked around. On the other side of the courtyard, the door of Zack’s trailer had been flung open. Zack stood in the doorway for a second, looking around wildly, then ran down the steps towards us. We met him in the middle of the yard, Nathan pulling his coat up over his head and attempting to shelter me with it too. I noticed and thought it was sweet, even amidst the panic.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Nathan. Zack shook his head.

‘Aww man, it’s bad, it’s so bad—’

‘Calm down!’ I ordered. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

‘He’s dead!’ cried Kimi dramatically. She stood in the doorway of the trailer, cradling her dog in her arms.

‘What? Who? The dog?’ Nathan and I exchanged looks – it would be typical of a bunch of actors to overreact – but then the dog wriggled and barked, and we realised she wasn’t talking about her fur baby. Nathan shook his head impatiently and made for the trailer. He bounded up the steps but I was right behind him.

Inside, Faith