Page 37 of The Chemistry Test

Cam

‘Cameron! She’s making me want a baby and a kitten,’ Josie coos, opening her arms to take Callie from me.

I don’t know where she finds the confidence, but she’s wearing a graphic tee with a logo of Elysia, her own character’s face on it from The Age of Artemisia.

I chuckle when I notice it, but I’m so used to her wearing this sort of shit when we’re together, I don’t even comment on it anymore.

‘So, what’s going on?’ she asks, adjusting the fluffy grey cushion Callie’s been attached to ever since Tabby left.

It’s technically Ryan’s but since she now cries out for it in the night, even when sleeping with one of us, we’ve both decided she’s taking it with her when it’s her turn to leave, a) because she clearly needs it more than us, and b) because the fact it’s become a replacement Tabby is really freaking depressing.

It’s been two days since we dropped her off, and with time barrelling forward at lightning speed, I figured I’d better tell Josie about the whole acting thing in case I really do decide to throw in the towel. I thought I’d made some headway on it, but now I’m not sure again.

After three years as my on-screen partner, this affects her too.

And so, I just come out with it. Everything about Gran and how we used to be in it together.

But the other things too. Like the pressure to be a good role model and the lack of privacy when people take photos behind your back.

I was obviously aware of it all before, but losing Gran was the catalyst that made me start questioning it a lot more – what I can handle, and if it’s even worth it.

‘This was just this weekend,’ I say, scrolling to the latest uploads and handing her my phone.

There were two separate photos of me uploaded to ArtemisiaCast, our biggest fan page, over the weekend, with Penny and her wheelchair sparking several new discussions.

‘I don’t understand why they don’t just ask for photos,’ she says, handing my phone back and putting her feet up on the small navy ottoman.

We usually put snacks on it, but her feet look pretty swollen, so I don’t say anything.

‘Surely they’d get better photos, and it would solve the whole privacy issue. ’

She has a point. If it wasn’t for that site, I’d be none the wiser that anyone had seen us at all, let alone that they’d captured the moment.

‘What about when it goes beyond a photo?’ I say, knowing she’ll know what (or more precisely, who ) I’m talking about.

She stops stroking Callie and looks right at me.

‘Cam, I know it shook you up when she said those things, but not everyone is like that. In fact, most people aren’t,’ she says, talking about the random girl I passed at a cat rescue in America last summer, who sold my photos along with the stupid cat lady story to an online magazine.

The website wasn’t very big, so it’s not like she sold me out to TMZ or anything, but she didn’t even ask for the photos, let alone know why I was actually there that day. And I only found out about it because my agent sent me the article two hours after it was published.

When I was there, I requested to see every cat so they could all get a chance to get out of their crates and stretch their legs properly for a minute, but the headline said I was a hoarder who adopted every single one. All forty-fucking-seven of them.

We got the photos removed, but to this day, the fake article still exists in the world.

‘I feel like that’s less likely to happen here though,’ she says, leaning her head back on the sofa and speaking more softly now Callie’s asleep. I wonder if she’s practising for when the baby gets here, although I heard that tiptoeing can create even more problems, so best of luck to her, I guess.

‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘But I don’t want to worry about it anywhere.’ And while she’s right that this sort of thing is more likely to happen in America since the show’s so much bigger over there, the number of viewers has been gradually going up each year in the UK too.

Last year, there wouldn’t have even been two photos of the main characters uploaded in a month, but now, as I scroll through the side character thread, there’s about one a week as far back as I can see.

With both Josie and I showing up roughly every other month each.

I screenshare my phone with the TV so we can look together. ‘Madness, isn’t it?’

‘You know what we need?’ she laughs. ‘We need those anti-paparazzi scarves that reflect light when someone uses their flash on us.’

‘How much are they?’ I say, about to exit the fan page when Josie stops me, her face falling.

‘Shit, Cam, this stuff really is getting to you.’ She lets go of my hand.

‘You can’t go around wearing a scarf all the time.

I think, what it comes down to, is just living a life you’re proud of – or at least, comfortable with.

’ She takes my phone and scrolls through it herself.

‘Like, if you look at these photos, yes, it’s weird to see these mundane-ass moments captured, but that’s all it is.

We’re in public places so we knew members of the public would be seeing us, even if we didn’t know how many.

And as far as I’m aware, you’re not one to do weird shit in public anyway.

Who cares if they see you buying – what is that?

’ She zooms in with two fingers on my phone, while looking at the magnified photo on the TV.

‘Icing sugar in Waitrose. Like, seriously, Cam, I wouldn’t worry about it.

It’s thanks to them you’re in Waitrose in the first place. ’

A mental image of me holding up a handmade sign saying, ‘Thanks for getting me into Waitrose!’ pops into my head, which is exactly why I don’t think I’m the right sort of person for all this.

When do you ever see pap shots like that?

I act out the imaginary scene to Josie, before facepalming and letting my hand stay there until she prises my arm away.

‘You’d never actually do that, Cam,’ she laughs.

‘And to be honest, nothing bad would happen if you did. I think they’d like seeing you showing a bit of gratitude and humility like that.

People would probably find it cute,’ she cackles, brandishing her hands in the shape of a banner.

‘I can see it now, CJ Taylor, the nation’s next sweetheart. ’

Can’t lie, I wouldn’t be opposed to that – I think most actors, deep down, are attention-seekers to some extent, in all the best ways possible.

And I’m no exception. Society’s had a blast making out ‘attention-seeking’ as being a trait so bad you’d rather confess to regularly shitting your pants than admitting you have it.

Really, it’s not inherently a self-centred or narcissistic quality, just a human one, usually stemming from the desire to be liked, or to make others laugh or react in some way.

But here, I think she’s missing the point, anyway.

Because what happens when it’s flipped on its head, and the people who crave positive attention the most are the recipients of the opposite.

Like the stupid news article that made an absolute mockery out of me and the cat-rescuing community.

That, thankfully, has been slightly easier to brush off since talking to Penny confirmed what I’ve known all along – that I’m so fucking proud of that part of my life that no one, not even a poxy news article, can convince me otherwise.

But it did get me thinking: what happens when the exploitation gets a little more grey?

Like dragging my friends and family into the madness.

People exploiting me and my passions is one thing, but what about when it’s someone else?

Someone who didn’t sign an HBO contract and all the implied rigmarole that comes with it.

And when the thing in question isn’t something as easy to defend as a harmless passion.

It’s mostly rhetorical, but I ask Josie anyway since she’s in the exact same boat, just in a slightly calmer sea than me – what with the fake-news article showing exactly what people are capable of and how it really feels.

And now with Penny being dragged into it all against her will.

‘I mean, I think that’s up to them to decide whether they mind or not,’ Josie says.

‘Like, for one thing, people aren’t really interested in the friends and family members of celebrities until you’re reallyyyyyy famous, like, I’m a huge Swiftie, but I still couldn’t pick out Taylor’s dad in a bunch of dad-looking people.

And even if I could, I think, like mine and yours, he’d be okay with that.

In fact, I know your family, Cam, and I know they’d never want you to give this up for their sake.

These are the same people who dressed the kittens up as fucking Minions for your audition tape that time.

’ She cackles. ‘And then filed a complaint when you didn’t get the part. ’

It’s one of my favourite memories of all time and despite not getting cast for the ad, it never fails to cheer me up.

I feel my pulse settling slightly. It’s another good point.

The way Mum’s been itching to get me back into it and completely failing to see my point until recently, you’d think she needed more than a new pair of glasses.

But still ... ‘What about everyone else, though? Friends, peers, colleagues? We can’t expect them to put up with it all, can we?’

‘I mean.’ She makes a face. ‘They’re the optional lot though, right?

So it’s up to—’ She stops abruptly as Callie suddenly wakes up, trying and failing to scramble off her stomach.

She’s too uncoordinated to manage it alone but I manage to intervene just in time to stop her twisting a leg and tearing Josie’s shirt to shreds in the process.

‘The baby’s kicking,’ she says, putting a hand there. Callie’s head bobs down from where she’s standing on the arm of the sofa, looking at the barely visible movement just below Josie’s little finger.

Then, very carefully, she pads back over to the bump and sniffs it, before putting her paw on it. She looks up at Josie then, with her pupils fully dilated, like a real-life Puss in Boots.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Josie murmurs, eyebrows pulling upwards in the middle. ‘She knows, doesn’t she?’ she says, her words landing like feathers around us.

I nod. And from the way she’s looking at her, I know what she’s thinking.

If Callie didn’t have CH and everything else, she might’ve just become Josie’s kitten.

And it’s not hard to see why. Despite her age and size, there’s a sense of wisdom and intuition about her that seems .

.. almost human. Like her mind is constantly calculating and making sense of the world around her, even though her tiny body struggles to navigate it.

Josie leans down and peers into her eyes.

I know they’d make a great team, but with Callie’s clumsiness and claw problem – where her claws randomly extend and retract without her meaning to, it’s not a good idea to have Callie around a newborn.

Plus, Josie has way too many rugs for Callie to accidentally pin herself to.

I pick her up now and kiss her. She really is the best girl. Way too good to still be in foster care with me.

‘If you or your mum get any more kittens like her when the baby’s a bit older, I’ll take him or her,’ Josie says. And I know she will – even if it means banishing all her rugs and soft furnishings to the cupboard under the stairs like we’ve had to do.

My phone vibrates on the glass coffee table in front of us as Callie’s med timer goes off, flashing up at the top of the ArtemisiaCast page.

My mind briefly skitters back to that whole ordeal as I glance at the photo of myself that shouldn’t exist, but somehow does.

I consider steering the conversation back to it. I want to keep talking about my acting dilemma until I reach a decision I’m fully confident in, but Josie would probably just say whatever I want to hear to get me to continue, and the moment’s gone anyway.

So, I let her tell me her favourite baby names instead, whipping my acting skills out of retirement as I pretend to love each and every one of them.

If I wasn’t so distracted, I probably wouldn’t have to fake it, but right now, all I can really think about is how, now that Gran’s gone, the only person who really knows what’s best for me, is me.

At least, I should be.