18th March 2016
"And cut! Reset and we'll go again. Let's go back to the other lens", Walter, the First Assistant Director, calls.
Eloise ducks past him and steps past the lights, behind the camera, to slide into their booth at the back of the diner.
A runner passes her a bottle of water with a straw through the cap as the make-up artist checks her over.
She roams her eyes over the crew and equipment crammed into the narrow set, always amazed at quite how big a village it seems to take. And Baby Driver isn't even a massive production.
After an initial two weeks back in February, she'd been back on set for this block of filming for almost two weeks already, and still has two more left to go.
Hers is only a supporting role, so the rest of the cast have a way longer and more intense schedule than her, but she's enjoying it and soaking up the experience.
Digging in her bag for her phone, she frowns to see her notifications littered with missed calls and texts from Harry. They miss each other all the time when they're busy working, but a single message always suffices. This is odd.
She scrolls through his messages first, but they don't elaborate. His voicemails worry her. He sounds tired and anxious, increasingly fraught.
'Babe, it's me. Call me back when you can, please. I, umm, I love you'.
'Baby. Please call. It's urgent'.
'El, we really need to talk'.
'Shit...'.
Oh God, what on Earth?
She pulls up her favourite contacts and taps his name at the top, lifting the phone to her ear with a shaky hand and a deep breath.
She frowns as it rings out and his voicemail greeting kicks in. 'Don't even bother...' he dissuades with a wry chuckle. Hanging up, she tosses her phone between her hands.
"Everything okay?", Ansel asks quietly, eyeing her warily.
"Umm, I'm not sure actually", she replies weakly, rubbing her neck before picking her phone back up and redialling.
It's about to ring out again anyway when Walter calls them back over.
On the ten metre walk back to the set, she physically tries to shake it off and put it out of her mind. "Debora, Debora, Debora", she whispers to herself, trying to get her head back into character.
>
It doesn't work. She's feeling anxious and distracted. And grateful the camera was focused on Ansel for these takes; she would have bombed.
As soon as they're on the next quick break to touch up Ansel's hair, she dashes to check her phone again.
"Oh, fuck!", she grumbles, seeing he'd tried returning her call twice.
Jabbing at her screen, she chews her lip nervously as it rings again.
She's losing hope when it suddenly stops ringing and there's a muffled fumble.
"Harry? Are you there?".
"Fuck, shit, sorry! Dropped my phone... El, baby? Hi".
"Sorry, we're in the middle of shooting. I've literally got ten seconds. I can't talk, but I saw all your calls and I'm worried. Just tell me, is everyone okay?", she asks quickly, fearing the worst.
"Yes, everyone's okay. Sorry I missed you, I was with the lawyers again...".
"Eloise!", Walter calls.
"Lawyers? On a Friday night? H, what's going on?".
He sighs. "El, baby, we really need to talk".
"ELOISE!".
"Shit. I've got to go. I'll call as soon as I can, I promise".
>
An agonising hour later, wrapped for the day, she checks her phone on the way to her trailer.
There are no further missed calls from Harry. Just one text message.
"Hoping you still have the weekend off? Booked you a ticket home. Leaves Atlanta just before 10pm tonight. Ticket in your inbox. If you can come, please do .x".
Now she's really worried.
Perching on the edge of the vanity, she checks the email for the flight details.
It's nearing 5.30pm now, and with rush hour traffic, she won't have time to go via her hotel.
She always has her passport in her handbag - having learned the hard way when she started modelling to always be prepared and ready to drop everything for a late booking.
And she figures she has everything else she needs at home in Hampstead, anyway.
Well, she assumes he's in Hampstead...?
It's after midnight there and he'd sounded exhausted, so she forgoes a call and just texts him back.
"On my way. With you by lunchtime. Love you xx".
She flags down a runner outside her trailer and asks them to change her car booking.
After quickly stripping out of her wardrobe and wiping off her makeup, she heads straight for the airport, straight for him.
>
>
19th March 2016
After all the drama and intrigue, Eloise was half hoping Harry would be at the airport to meet her.
Instead, turning on her phone as soon as she lands, there's just another text.
"Caught up in meetings with the lawyers, sorry. Greg's on his way for you. He'll text you where to meet. Sorry and I love you, so much. I'm sorry .x".
She winces. More lawyers. Three sorry's. What the fuck is going on? She can't bring herself to reply.
>
She gazes at the fattening droplets racing down the car window. The steely grey skies and heavy drizzle match her bleak mood. She feels like a twelve year old acting out a music video, but can't quite bring herself to snap out of it.
In hindsight, letting her mind wander and dream up ridiculous improbable scenarios probably wasn't the best way to pass the time during the drive from Heathrow to Hampstead. It hadn't helped on the plane either. She's feeling tense and strung out.
Hearing Greg mumble into his phone that they're two minutes away, Eloise focuses on the familiar leafy road, shrinking back in her seat as the feeling of dread only intensifies.
She's feeling nauseous. But that might be because she hasn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday.
Unable to stomach anything, she'd barely slept on the plane either; tossing and turning despite the fully flat First Class seat.
As the gate opens remotely, she spots Harry immediately as Greg pulls in. Loitering by the patio doors, hair dishevelled and askew, pacing as he is; she's never seen him look so stressed.
Hurriedly thanking Greg, she has the door open before he even comes to a stop.
>
Harry steps into the rain to meet her halfway to the house, pulling her straight into a tight hug before she can get a good look at his face.
"Thank you so much for coming. God, I've missed you", he whispers lowly in her ear.
As he turns to pull her quickly inside, she spots a bunch of people through glass patio doors and tugs him back.
"H, please... Just tell me? I can't bear it", she pleads.
His face and shoulders fall as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before reaching for her other hand.
"Jeff and the publicists got phone calls yesterday afternoon asking for comments about the hack".
"What hack?".
"Exactly. We've been trying to find out, but all we know so far is that it's photos from iCloud. And they're being published in the tabloids tomorrow. We haven't seen them yet, but think they've been stolen from my mum's account".
She's stunned silent, gaping at him.
Swerving past him, she steps into the house.
She can feel the tense vibes from everyone else, scattered across the kitchen and dining room. Anne, Robin, Jeff, his publicists, plus a few men she's never seen before.
He follows quickly behind her, tugging her back around to face him. "El, please say something. I'm so sorry about this-".
"That's it?".
"What do you mean 'that's it'?".
"Photos? And tabloids? Are you kidding me?", she scoffs.
"For fuck's sake, Harry! I've been worried sick, imagining all sorts of terrible scenarios", she says exasperatedly, with a distinct wobble in her voice.
"Oh, God, El, I'm sorry", he pulls her back into another tight hug, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.
"We don't know what they have. Like I said, we haven't managed to get hold of the pictures yet", he explains more softly.
"Well, then we'll worry about that when we see them", she says calmly, pulling back to look him in the eye as she rakes his damp hair back into place. "But never bloody do that to me again". There's that Cadogan fire.
"How are you so calm? This could change everything?".
"How? Why? I already dislike paps and tabloids and social media too", she shrugs, confused. "Wait... Why would you think this will change how I feel about you? About us?", she steps back from him a little. "Should I be worried, Harry?", she asks directly.
"No. Well, I don't know... We don't know what they have".
"But is there anything you'd be worried about them having?".
"I don't want anyone stealing anything private", he says sternly, shaking his head at her in confusion for a moment before he realises what she's getting at.
Then he puts his hands on her shoulders, eyeing her imploringly. "Oh, God, no, Eloise! Absolutely nothing from all of last year, I swear".
As his hands find hers again, he realises she's shaking.
"Oh, El. I'm sorry, for worrying you".
She sighs in relief, "H, whatever this is, we'll face it together, okay?". Then, finally, she pulls him in for a kiss.
Seeing Anne's crestfallen and tear-stained face over Harry's shoulder, Eloise squeezes his waist before peeling off, and heads over to pull her into a tight hug and telling her not to worry.
Anne promptly bursts into fresh tears, mumbling apologies and admitting how guilty she feels.
>
Pulling back, Eloise turns back to Harry, but acknowledges everyone else in the room, too. "So there's nothing else we can do until they're published, right?". Jeff shakes his head, no.
"Well, okay then. I'm here for less than twenty four hours and I don't intend to waste them all worrying unnecessarily... I need a shower then some food", she says, matter of factly.
Kissing Anne on the cheek, she steps towards Harry, squeezing his arm as she reaches down past him for her bag, then heads for the stairs.
She backtracks quickly down them again, eyeing him with his arms braced against the kitchen island unit, head hanging low. "H?".
He snaps his head up to look at her.
"That was an invitation. Come on", she gestures up the stairs, hand outstretched to him.
>
Sitting opposite each other in his oversized bathtub, surrounded by towering bubbles, Eloise tries to distract Harry. Tries to make him laugh. Tries to make him talk.
He's not in the mood.
Well, he's definitely in a mood; quiet, sullen, apprehensive.
But not that mood.
She snakes her toes up the inside of his thigh, inching higher until she gently tickles his balls and strokes along his length.
Shifting, he sighs and leans his head back against the edge of the tub.
She frowns. He's never been non-plussed at her affections before.
Trying again, with a little more pressure, she tries a playful wiggle of her toes. But nothing.
She's never not managed to get a rise out him - literally - and can't help but think it stings a little.
"Babe, I'm not-, I'm sorry-".
"Well, that's a first", she whispers, unable to keep the playful grimace from her face, trying to break the awkwardness.
"Sorry. God, it's not you, it's... Ugh, I can't turn my brain off from stewing over it all", he grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Tell me why, H? Why are you so worried?", she nudges him again. Her foot under his hand in the water this time.
He gives her a squeeze and starts distractedly trailing his fingers up and down the sharp bone of her shin.
She tries again. "You've weathered dick pics and kiss and tells and made up exposés... What's got you in knots this time?".
"You!", he says, impassioned. "Because it's you, and it's us. And the thought of anything risking that... That they get to profiteer off that makes me feel physically sick".
"The sentiment's sweet, Harry, but I think you're overreacting", she says gently.
"Of course I'm not", he scoffs, offended. "I know how important privacy is to you, El. You've been amazing about everything and all the crazy shit that comes with being with me so far, but this will change things".
"It doesn't sound like you have much faith in me and how I'll react", she winces.
"Not that. Ugh... I don't know how far back they went, but just think, Mum took so many fucking pictures on that trip alone. We were all over each other".
"Hey, this isn't her fault-".
"I know, I know", he holds his other hand up. "But with so many shots and angles, they'll finally get your name. Then things will go crazy and it'll be a feeding frenzy, and I know you don't want that".
"Harry, I want you. That's it. And if this is a part of that package deal, then I'd still sign up, every single time, in a heartbeat", she says, sitting up, leaning closer and looking him directly in the eye.
"I won't freak out and run over this, I promise. We'll figure it out together, and we'll weather whatever storm is heading our way, together. Okay?".
Surging forward, he sloshes water over the edge of the tub in his haste to reach her.
Cupping her jaw, eyes flitting between hers, he pulls her in for a kiss, desperate to convey the depth of his love and appreciation for her.
>
"Oh, hello!", she pulls back, shifting as she grins lasciviously, glancing down towards his lap.
"What can I say, you've talked me down", he smirks slyly.
"Up, no?", she says cheekily.
"Shut it and kiss me", he laughs - finally - before pulling her back in.
"God, I love you. I've missed you so much", he whispers reverently, flipping her sodden hair behind her shoulder as she scoots forward on his lap.
>
As afternoon makes way to evening, he's less tense, but still anxious.
That the house is buzzing with the nervous energy of the task force of managers, publicists and lawyers doesn't help. Expecting the story to break in the morning editions, some are planning to stay, to be up early, at the ready.
The lawyers have been on calls with Apple and cyber crime liaisons all day, but without much progress. Until they have the photos as proof of a crime, there's not much they can do.
They order in a big Indian takeaway before having an early night.
>
Eloise is trying to stay on Atlanta time so feels wide awake still.
As soon as they're in bed with the lights out, he suddenly feels shattered, but desperately wants to stay awake for her, keen to make the most of their precious time together.
But her cording her fingers through his hair and scalp has him dropping off in seconds.
She lies awake for hours; the raking action soothing her as much as him. Lost in her thoughts, she's grateful for this wonderful man, but apprehensive about what the morning will bring.
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