Chapter Text
“Do you think that’s the other team?” Zoe murmured, reaching across the table for the ketchup. Ruth peered across the breakfast room of the Salford Quays Holiday Inn. Five nerdy-looking people in their early twenties were sitting down at a table on the other side of the room.
“Must be,” Christine said languidly. “They’re all dressed twenty years too old. Could you pass the jam, please.”
Tom handed it over to Christine, his fingers brushing her wrist as he drew his hand back. She looked up at him through her lashes, smiling her thanks. Zoe’s eyes flicked between the two of them. She said nothing.
Ruth forced herself to swallow her bite of toast. It tasted like cardboard in her dry mouth. Next to her, Zoe was merrily tucking into a bacon roll, while Fiona had opted for muesli and fruit and Christine had a croissant. A black coffee and an empty plate sat in front of Tom.
“Shall we go over and say hi?” Zoe suggested, ever the social butterfly. Ruth shrank into herself slightly and shook her head. Christine shrugged and looked bored, stifling a yawn behind her hand.
“What do you suggest, O Captain my Captain?” Fiona said, mock-saluting Tom.
“Fine. Sure. Why not.” Tom’s eyes coolly swept over the other group. “They don’t look up to much.”
Only two members of the other team were talking to each other: a young man with dark brown hair and a wry smirk on his face, and a blonde girl who looked noticeably younger than the others. The blonde girl broke off the conversation and leaned forward to say something to the person opposite her, who had messy blonde hair and was facing away from them. He turned to cast a glance over his shoulder, revealing a boyish face with an impish air. Catching Fiona’s eye, he winked. She raised an eyebrow and turned pointedly to look at Zoe.
“Ah, we’ve been spotted.”
“Oh joy. Save us from the jolly nerds,” Christine drawled, taking a sip of her coffee. “It’s always the same with you public school English, all jolly-hockey-sticks and ‘splendid!’ and home-knitted jumpers.” Ruth flushed and pulled her jumper down to cover her right wrist; one sleeve was slightly shorter than the other, and the cuffs were a bit wonky, but she had promised her mum she’d wear it to the studio.
“Come on, let’s go and introduce ourselves.” Zoe stood up, cramming the remains of her bacon roll into her mouth. Her and Fiona led the charge; Ruth trailed slightly behind, hoping she could imbibe some of their confidence. Tom and Christine didn’t even get up. Ruth sometimes thought that Christine looked down on the rest of them, only considering Tom a worthy conversation partner as he was a postgrad like her.
“Are you who I think you are?” the blonde guy asked as they came up to the table. His tone was confident, a hair’s breadth from arrogance.
“If you mean, are we MI5 agents come to arrest you, then you’re spot on,” Fiona replied. The blonde boy rolled his eyes.
“What’s our crime?”
“Crimes against fashion,” Fiona shot back. “That shirt looks like it’s never even heard of an iron, let alone been formally introduced.”
The blonde boy raised an eyebrow. “You got me there.” He held out his hands. “Take me away.” Fiona had to stifle a giggle. He was silly, but she had to admit he was quite charming.
“What university are you from?” Zoe broke in, bored with watching.
“What university are you from?” he countered.
“Exeter, Oxford.”
“Ah, the other place! Well, we’ve really got to beat you now,” the dark-haired man joked, flashing them all a smile that Ruth would describe as self-consciously charming. “We’re Cambridge. King’s.” Fiona, Ruth and Zoe nodded in acknowledgment.
“I’m Zoe, and this is Fiona and Ruth. Nice to meet you all.” Zoe smiled round at the others, who mostly returned her greeting. The two young-looking blonde girls smiled nervously, and the other member of the team, a serious-looking Black guy nursing a cup of tea, gave them a nod.
“I’m Adam. I’m the captain,” the blonde boy said, holding out his hand to the others. They all shook it. Traces of colour appeared high on Fiona’s cheekbones, but Ruth reckoned only she was close enough to spot it.
“I’m guessing your call time is 9am too? Unless you just wanted to make the most of the Holiday Inn breakfast offerings.”
“Yep,” Zoe said. “You must be our competition then. May the best team win, and all that.”
“You better not have staged this chitchat so you can poison our drinks or something,” Adam said offhand to Fiona. A smile curled the corners of her mouth.
“Oh, naturally,” she said. “We’re much more subtle than that.”
Ruth hung back awkwardly; she didn’t enjoy social interaction at the best of times, and forced social interaction with strangers was even worse.
“I really think we should get going,” she murmured to Zoe. “We only have twenty minutes before we need to be at the studio.”
Tom suddenly appeared at their side. “Quite right, Ruth. Come on, everyone.”
Christine was standing slightly behind Tom. It occurred to Ruth that she was looking paler than usual, her ice-maiden coolness changed to almost translucent pallor.
“See you on the other side,” Adam said, turning back to his team.
“Nice to meet you all,” Zoe added, as they left the breakfast room. She swiped a muffin from a basket of pastries as they went past the counter. Tom’s mildly disapproving eyes followed her.
“What?” she protested, catching his eye.
“Oh, nothing,” he said, smoothing his face into an innocent expression.
“Are you all right?” Ruth whispered to Christine.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Christine snapped, somehow managing to fill the word with a mix of irritation and disdain that lingered after she’d finished speaking.
***
“Have you got a hairbrush?” Zoe asked Ruth, leaning in towards the mirror to apply lip gloss. “Actually, no, never mind, they’ll probably do our hair and things for us, won’t they?”
“Probably,” said Ruth, holding out the hairbrush she had ready in her hand. Their bags sat packed and ready to go on the twin beds. Since their call time was early, the production company had put them up at the Holiday Inn for the night. Ruth and Zoe were sharing, as were Fiona and Christine, and Tom had a room to himself.
“Thanks, you’re an angel.” Zoe took the brush and swept it quickly through her chin-length bob, glancing in the mirror again. “I don’t know why I’m hung up on this, I should probably be revising or something.”
“Do you want me to ask you questions?” Ruth offered. She was still slightly in awe of Zoe; beautiful, perfect Zoe, who seemed to be able to do everything effortlessly yet was still kind to everyone. It felt like an illicit thrill to watch her getting ready; to see behind the public persona, watch her construct herself.
“No, no, you’re all right,” Zoe murmured distractedly, moving around the room, picking things up and putting them down. She stopped next to her bed, rummaging in her bag, then looked up at Ruth. “Did Tom and Christine come down to breakfast together this morning?” she asked casually. “I didn’t see them come in.”
“Um…” Ruth knew there was danger lurking behind the seemingly innocent question, and she wasn’t sure how much she should say; it was painfully obvious there was something going on between Christine and Tom, but she wasn’t sure if Zoe had picked up on it. “I’m…not sure.”
“Liar!” Zoe’s tone was playful; she tapped Ruth on the head lightly with the brush. “You notice everything, Ruth. You must know.” Behind her cheerful smile, her eyes looked strained, focusing intently on Ruth.
“Well, uh, I think I saw… yes, I think they…”
“Right.” Zoe rummaged in her bag again, this time slightly more aggressively. “Do you think it’s been going on for a while?”
“Um, maybe. I don’t know,” Ruth said quietly.
Zoe stopped still and ran one hand through her hair, messing it up again.
“Sorry,” Ruth added, feeling horribly guilty. Now she had upset Zoe. Brilliant.
“No, no, why are you apologising? I mean, it makes sense,” Zoe said, clicking her compact mirror shut aggressively, her tone a ramshackle approximation of don’t-care-breeziness. Ruth’s eyebrows creased in concern. She wanted to reassure Zoe, to make her feel better somehow, but she didn't know what to say.
The moment passed.
“Well, we’d better hurry if we want to be there on time,” Zoe said, grabbing her bag off the bed and leaving the room like a whirlwind. Ruth followed behind, still wondering if she’d said something wrong.