Page 37 of Just for December

‘You deserve better,’ Duke says.

Daphne nods. ‘I know.’

‘Come here,’ he says opening his arms when it looks like she’s going to break down into tears. She doesn’t even reach his chest before she issues a sob. ‘I know, darling,’ Duke coos, stroking her hair. He closes his eyes and says it again. ‘I know, darling. I know.’

Duke and Daphne are the lead story on TMZ, Mail Online and @DukesLewks, which means the photos have already become memes and gone viral. Somebody photographed them laughing on set yesterday and then hugging in the gym – Daphne’s face buried in Duke’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her, his eyes closed. Speculation over whether they’re getting back together is rife – although one anonymous source claims they were never really over in the first place. The production team don’t seem to care one way or the other, as long as their movie keeps making headlines and getting clicks. As long as Duke is dating somebody, they’re happy.

Duke is livid.

‘There’s a rat,’ he spits to Daphne in the breakfast hall, where they’ve sat opposite each other at a middle table sothat they can demonstrate to anybody who might care that they’ve got nothing to hide. ‘It goes against every law on set. We’re supposed to be a team. On set everyone is equal – that’s how it should be.’

Duke shakes his head, feeing partly responsible. Hadn’t Evie asked who could be the ‘sources’ on set? And he hadn’t done anything about it. He’d brushed it off, acted like it was made up, and now look. The call is coming from within the house.

Daphne looks tired. Duke hasn’t asked about her and Brad, knowing that if he pushes it, he risks making her withdraw entirely. She needs to be the one to bring it up, so he can be a willing listener. He’s aware Brad isn’t in the breakfast room though. Hopefully they didn’t share a room last night. Duke knows how it looks in the photos, like they really are having a moment, but all the love he has for Daphne, somehow, even in less than a month since they broke up, is genuinely platonic. His feelings run deep and true, but they’re deep and true in the spirit of friendship. He can thank Evie for that. No matter what happens there, something has shifted in his expectations of romance. He can’t wait to bring it up with Phoebe when he’s next in therapy: he’s circling around something about greater vulnerability bringing greater rewards. He didn’t get that with Daphne, because exactly like she said he played the role of boyfriend without ever properly opening up. He gets it, now, though.

‘It might not be crew,’ Daphne offers, focusing on her fruit plate. ‘It could be staff from the hotel …’

Duke has considered this, but it doesn’t account for the photos of him and Evie back in Würzburg. Unless staffeverywhere along the Romantic Road make it their business to photograph their guests, which, in his experience of the German people just doesn’t seem right. Everybody has been kind, deferential, and generally unbothered by their star power: they’ve just provided great service and gotten on with their days.

He sees Evie, then, walking across the room to the bread station.

‘Evie!’ Duke calls out, and when he waves it’s as though she looks right through him. She’s seen them. He excuses himself to go over to her.

‘I tried to find you last night,’ he says, standing beside her as she slices from a sourdough loaf and puts it on the small toaster. ‘They wouldn’t tell me what room you’re in at reception. Got to love that dedication to guest privacy.’ He’s making a joke, but he can’t even tell if she’s heard it.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks. She looks a little … peaky.

She picks up and puts down some little pots of jam and marmalade, adding two sachets of salted butter to her plate and peering over at the progress of her toast.

‘Evie?’ he prompts.

She rubs at her eyes. ‘Yeah,’ she says, absent-mindedly.

Duke pauses. ‘Okay,’ he replies, as she puts the toast on her plate. ‘Well, do you want to join us?’

‘No, thank you,’ Evie tells him. ‘I think I’m just going to take this up to my room. I’ve got a bit of a headache.’

She disappears.

That was weird, thinks Duke. He wonders if it’s something he’s said.

21

Duke

They’re filming what Duke thinks of as an outdoor ‘frolicking’ scene today, over at Naturschutzgebiet Seeholz, an area of natural woodland with winding paths and a small lake that, with a fresh sprinkling of snow, is a grander and more dreamlike set than even the most talented designer could concoct. His costume for George is the warmest thing he’s been put in this whole trip: it’s basically full skiwear. In black padded salopettes, snow boots, thick gloves and a fitted black gilet over a black fleece jumper, he’s snug as a bug in a rug. The sun is bright and the skies blue, his favourite kind of weather. He stands outside of the hair and make-up trailer getting some fresh air, taking it all in … and looking for Evie. He saw her get on the crew bus earlier, so he knows she made it.

‘Duke, hi! How are you doing?’ the director of photography, Katerina, says. ‘Delays aside, the shoot’s all going great, huh?’

He doesn’t know Katerina well, and hasn’t spent much time with her on set aside from at a small drinks gathering when they wrapped at Pinewood on the internal shots, before they flew out to Germany. He tries to rack his brains for some common titbit of information he remembers about their chat, but he comes up blank. Pinewood already feels so long ago, and he was a mess at the time, with news of Daphne’s liaison so fresh. He goes for a different tack instead.

‘Great, yeah,’ says Duke. ‘And look at this! It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ He gestures at the expanse of snowy fields and pine trees, a veritable winter wonderland.

She nods enthusiastically in response. ‘Well …’ Katerina says, when it becomes apparent they’ve not really got anything else to say. ‘Break a leg today.’

‘Yeah.’ Duke nods. ‘You too.’

He breathes it all in again, but barely takes five breaths before Willow, from content, interrupts him.

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