Page 38 of Just for December

‘Hey Duke,’ she says. ‘I’ve just been on the line with the head of PR at the studio.’

‘My favourite way for a sentence to start,’ Duke quips, rolling his eyes.

‘I know,’ she says. ‘We’re always asking you for something, and I’m afraid today is no different. Just to give you a heads up, we know there are paps here today – I mean, we might have tipped off the paps, truth be told, but I cannot officially confirm nor deny that – and re: you and Evie, and you and Daphne … we just wanted you to know.’

‘What’s the play?’ Duke asks.

‘We’re going to have Daphne and Evie take a walk between takes, so there’s no suggestion of rift there or that they’refighting over you. Half the internet are shipping you with one, half the internet with the other, but the studio doesn’t want to play into the cliché of great men being a scarce resource –especiallysince Evie has gone on record to say that will never be the case in her books. Does that make sense? Basically people can ship whoever they want, but we want the narrative to be that no man is so great that he can come between two new friends.’

Duke crumples his brow. ‘Arethey two new friends? I don’t think I’ve even really seen them speak.’

Willow shrugs. ‘They are now,’ she trills. As she walks away, Duke asks her, ‘Hey, speaking of which – do you know where Evie is?’

Willow points. ‘Isn’t that her?’

Duke follows her finger with his eyes. Evie is in the middle of a field, her face upturned to the sun, eyes closed, spinning in small circles. Duke smiles. ‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘It is.’

She doesn’t seem to hear him approach. Duke isn’t sure if she’s doing some kind of meditation; she seems to be in a bit of a trance. He mirrors what she’s doing, self-consciously sticking out his arms too, standing beside her and getting a look at the peaceful expression on her face. He gives it a go for himself, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the warm, low winter sun. It’s nice. He takes a breath, inhaling through his nose and then exhaling a big breath through his mouth. When he opens his eyes again she’s staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

‘Just wondered what all the fuss is about,’ he tells her sheepishly.

‘What’s the verdict?’ she retorts, smirking now. He’ll take a smirk over a catatonic glazed-over nothing, though.

‘You’ve defrosted since breakfast,’ Duke says, closing his eyes again and keeping his arms wide to reassume his meditative stance. He hears her move in the snow and, peeking through one eye, sees she’s done the same, and so that’s how they converse, stood like two Angels of the North, side by side, in the middle of a field in Naturschutzgebiet Seeholz.

‘Bad night,’ she says, simply.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Are you hungover?’

She hits him. ‘No,’ she says. ‘I had a panic attack, actually. I mean. I think that’s what it was. A freak-out? Meltdown?’

‘Oh hell,’ Duke says. ‘No wonder you felt rough this morning. I …’ He trails off. Is he going to tell her? He can trust her, can’t he? ‘I know how that feels,’ he concludes. ‘After my first Marvel movie I started to get them. I don’t even mean on set, or after, on the press tour. I mean after I landed the role, before I even got the full script. Theideaof being in the Marvel universe sent me …’ He doesn’t have the word, so he makes a honking noise instead, hoping that gives her the gist.

‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Well, I am very sorry to learn that. Last night was the first time I’ve ever properly felt like I was out of control of my body, and it’s a hard pass from me, a hard do not recommend.’

‘Do you know what caused it?’ Duke asks, knowing it’s not always that simple. He can be triggered by specific things, still – especially doing seventeen-hour press days in foreign countries and having to be ‘on’ all the time, since one bad interview out of fifty good ones will be the one to go mad online, sinking a movie even if it’s the best thing that’s everbeen made. It’s a big weight to carry. But also, he can feel like the floor has been pulled out from under him, just sat in his car at a red light or at home watching screeners.

She doesn’t speak. He peeks at her again. Her eyes are still closed.

‘I’m not sure,’ she says. ‘I had a call with my agent, and it was all good, and then …’

‘Bam,’ Duke supplies.

‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘It was so unusual. I googled it, and I found a website that said to get outside as quick as possible. They call it nature-bathing? Just … being in nature, letting it wash over you and reminding you of your place in the world?’

‘You say it like you’re cynical.’ Duke laughs. ‘How unexpected.’ Obviously he means the opposite. Cynical is just about her middle name.

She hits his arm again.

‘Ouch!’ he exclaims. ‘Can you not?’

He can almost hear her smirking.

‘Question,’ Duke prompts then. ‘It was aftergoodnews that it happened? Like when I got the Marvel role?’

‘Yup,’ says Evie. ‘I don’t claim for it to make any sense.’

‘Oh no,’ he insists. ‘It makes perfect sense. My therapist calls it acclimatisation. Like if you hike Everest, the air thins and you need time to get used to it. When we experience even the best stuff, or our reality gets heightened or altered dramatically, our air thins and we need time to get used to it before digging in. Extreme good can be as mind-blowing as bad stuff happening, physiologically speaking.’

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