Shards of Glass

Chapter 2

When I had asked Olliver if I could help him out, I had been making a genuine offer. But now I knew who the star was, I was beside myself. I tried to ignore my inner fangirl, who was constantly reminding me that I had an opportunity to meet Britain's biggest rising star. Who also happened to be hot.

So, I was gobsmacked when Olliver came in to work a few weeks later and said he thought he would be able to take a couple of people along to watch Stained Glass being made. My face started flushing and I could feel my heart pounding. I pulled myself together and replied as nonchalantly as I could. "Oh, right. That's brilliant. Give me the details and I'll let you know. I'm sure I can work something out. Thanks."

"No problem. If we stay over it's an opportunity to get you drunk, so that should be amusing." He made a vulgar gesture and I smiled. He really should stop doing that in the middle of the office, I thought.

As it turned out, it would be an overnight stay. A week later, myself, Alex, Alice and Fran pitched up to the train station, clutching coffees in our freezing cold hands and copies of the Guardian newspaper under our arms. The first lot of filming was at various locations in York and, after a short train journey, we arrived at the beautiful walled city.

York was a small city, so the cast and crew were split between two hotels: the Guy Fawkes Inn and the Cedar Court Grand Hotel. Both were lovely old establishments, with beautiful bedrooms and welcoming bars complete with roaring log fires. My friends and I were staying at the Guy Fawkes as Olliver had somehow managed to book us a double room. Although we had shared small spaces before, this was the first time we'd tried to cram all four of us into one room. We were planning to have a few drinks after we'd been to the set and crash out.

"Great room," Fran said. "Shame about just the one bed."

"It will be fine." I replied, looking around. "There's room for someone on the floor and there's a chair, someone can have that for a bit." I wasn't terribly convinced.

Alice was unimpressed, "Hmmm."

Once we had dropped off our bags we traipsed over to the York Museum, where filming was taking place that day. Inside, there was a large area cordoned off from the public to allow space for filming and I spotted Olliver, hovering around quite close to the director. He looked like he was deep in thought. I glanced around the set quickly and I couldn't see any of the cast. They must be on a tea break, I thought. Grabbing Alex's hand I started striding towards Olliver, winding through the assembled crew who all seemed to be deep in thought as well.

"Hey, Oll!" I said, quite loudly, in his direction. He didn't seem to have heard me.

"Oll-i-ver." I said, louder, in a sing-song voice. As I sang the final syllable of his name, I had a dawning realisation that I might be interrupting something. My legs were still mid-stride but I could feel Alex starting to pull her hand away. I scanned the large museum gallery we were in. Some of the people were turning to look at me.

Suddenly, something made contact with my right shin. It was solid but quickly gave way slightly. I was going at such a pace that I didn't have time to see what it was I'd knocked into.

Both of my feet were off the floor and my leg was now stinging. It felt wet, and...hot. Then my shoulder hit the cold, shiny, marble floor of the museum with a hard thud. That hurt.

"What the fuck?" I heard a vaguely familiar, baritone growl. My stomach, which was already struggling to work out where it was in relation to the rest of me, lurched towards the ground. I located Alex's face through my fringe and realised she was giggling out of sheer embarrassment.

My leg was still stinging and I seemed to have landed in a puddle; it was soaking through my jeans. I saw an empty takeaway coffee cup to my left, on its side, without a lid.

"Argh!" I managed to spit out.

Olliver was walking slowly towards me, a script in his hand. His face was softening as he watched me trying to make sense of what just happened. "Nice work," he said.

I sat up, realising that the liquid I could feel all over my legs was, in fact, tea. I was sitting in a puddle of tea. I was sitting in a puddle of Benedict Cumberbatch's tea. Great.

"Oh.... Shit. I mean, oh God. I'm really... sorry." I garbled and realised that, true to form, I was now bright red in the face. "What just happened?" I hid behind my fringe.

"Jesus." Benedict said. He was, or had been before I ran straight into him, crouched down with his script, discussing a minor point of contention with the director and Olliver. "Can you people just watch where you're going? Please." He sounded really pissed off. He had broken his own fall with his hand, which was on the cold floor, propping him up. An errant curl had sprung away and had fallen forward onto his forehead. He looked amazing. Angry, but amazing.

Of course, at that moment, any ability I might have had to make a witty, charming recovery completely deserted me. "Sorry," I almost whispered it. I briefly caught Benedict's eye as I spoke, but I looked away immediately, pushing my fringe away from my eyes so I could begin to get my bearings.

"Ok, let's get this mess cleaned up and get on." One of the crew shouted. It might even have been the director. Benedict stood up and brushed down his coat and jeans. Then he walked away, giving his head a little shake of annoyance and running his hand through his hair to put it back into place.

"Can we get Mr Cumberbatch another cup of tea?" An over-eager assistant shouted, scurrying past me and my friends as Alex helped me up. Olliver squeezed my shoulder gently and went back over to talk to the director.

"Well, that was a splendid display, Anna." Alice nodded her head at me in mock approval.

"Awesome." Fran agreed quietly.

"Urgh." I said. "Can we go somewhere else for a bit? I need to dry off, and I need to find a rock to crawl under."

Alex laughed, "Come on, let's find the café. We can get a cup of... tea." She chuckled and put her arm round my shoulders.