A Sprinkle of Sabotage

by Fiona Leitch

  ‘And heard her,’ said Debbie.

  ‘Everyone’s heard her,’ muttered Lucy, who obviously felt that the young star was being a bit of a diva. ‘Why she had to bring the blasted dog with her anyway… Never mind, keep a look out, will you? And we’ll be filming in the ballroom today. Twenty minutes, please.’ She spotted someone over the other side of the yard. ‘Glen! Hold up.’ And off she went.

  ‘Might as well head over to the ballroom,’ said Tony. ‘Faith reckons she might be able to persuade Sam to give me a line.’

  ‘Who?’ I asked pettily, because I knew who he meant.

  ‘The director.’

  ‘Oh right. A line of what?’ I said, thinking, Faith reckons, does she? Which was proper daft, seeing as I’d just made it sound like me and Zack were BFFs now. Tony gave me a look, which might have genuinely meant why are you being petty with me? or might just have been guilt on my part. ‘Sorry, I know what you mean, I was trying and failing to be funny. I hope she does. Let’s walk round the long way, shall we? We’ll be doing enough standing about as it is.’

  We followed the course that Kimi and her sister had taken, round the side of the house to the front where the beautiful facade was somewhat spoilt by the shoot’s ramshackle collection of marquees and trucks; the whole production had given rise to a kind of middle-class shanty town. But if you looked away from the house, you could still enjoy the beautiful grounds: a massive lawn, with a croquet area to one side; a medieval knot garden with low box hedges forming an intricate pattern and then in-filled with lavenders and other fragrant plants; and of course the fountain. And further on, there was a large ornamental lake, completely man-made but naturalised with plants and trees around the edge. And something else, in the middle of it.

  ‘Princess! Princess! Help, my baby!’ Kimi stood helplessly at the edge of the lake, shrieking, while her sister gingerly set foot into the cold water. She was only a little way from the edge but it was already up to her knees, and she seemed reluctant to go in any further.

  ‘Oh bloody hell, how did the dog get out there?’ I said. We ran over to Kimi and before I could even think, Tony had pulled off his shoes and plunged in…

  Chapter Six

  Tony thrashed through the water, wading out as far as he could and then swimming out to the centre. The daft dog was fighting to stay afloat, weighed down as she must have been by her long, hairy coat, and her struggles were actually taking her further and further out into the water.

  Tony eventually reached her and grabbed hold of her, then turned and struck out again for the edge of the lake. By now, most of the cast and crew were watching, though none of them went in to help. Then again, it was ‘only’ a dog, and Tony was clearly a strong swimmer – one of the benefits of growing up by the sea.

  As he reached shallow water he stood up and trudged soggily through the pondweed, scattering surprised ducks before him.

  ‘Oh my…’ said Debbie next to me, as I felt my jaw drop.

  Tony’s white shirt was of course soaked through and now almost transparent, and it clung to a hitherto completely unsuspected set of abs, well defined with what could have been a hint of chest hair, although he was too far away for me to see properly and I may have been imagining it. As he waded towards us I was transported back to the evening of the 15th of October 1995, and I was sitting at home with my mum eating Quality Street (Mum had brought an almost-out-of-date box home from her job at the Co-op) and watching BBC1, unaware that a seminal moment in my young life was about to occur. I unwrapped a Green Triangle, tuning out the sound of Mum’s chatter, popped the chocolate in my mouth, and then almost choked. Mum stopped talking. On screen, Mr Darcy strode manfully out of the lake at Pemberley and into the hearts of women (and no doubt a few men) across the nation.

  In front of the watching film crew, Tony strode manfully out of the water just like Mr Darcy, the effect only slightly spoilt by the fact that he was carrying a wriggling, bedraggled dog and had a clump of pondweed on his left shoulder. He saw everyone watching and looked around, surprised, then caught my eye and grinned. My heart beat a little bit faster and I was disgusted with it for being so predictable.

  As he reached dry land, Kimi ran over and threw herself at him, hugging both the rescuer and the rescuee to her silk-clad chest. I noticed that she was crying – she obviously genuinely loved that dog – but she was managing not to ugly-cry or get snotty. It’s not fair how some women can do everything beautifully. I’ve always managed to do the opposite. Every time I go to the hairdresser (not very often), I’ll come out with an amazing hairdo and immediately the heavens will open, the winds will whip up, and I end up looking like I just stepped out of the salon and into the path of a tornado.

  ‘Someone get this man a towel!’ Faith barged past me and for a moment I thought she was going to wrestle Kimi for him. I had visions of each of them grabbing an arm and pulling, and poor Tony – poor, soaking wet, ripped Tony – being literally ripped … in two, with each woman holding an arm and half a muscular torso (a three-pack?). But there was no need for Faith to resort to physical violence, as one look from the woman who I was beginning to realise wasn’t quite as sweet and cuddly as her National Treasure status suggested was enough for the young, beautiful pretender to relinquish her trophy and let go of him.

  ‘Who is this guy?’ muttered one of the crew behind me. ‘Isn’t he the one who was sniffing around Faith yesterday?’ The man next to him laughed.

  ‘He’s just some extra who’s trying to bag himself a speaking part,’ he said, and they both sniggered. I saw red.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, turning on them furiously, ‘Tony Penhaligon is the nicest, most decent person you could ever meet. He’s always there when anyone needs help, including Faith when she got locked in her trailer and none of you lot had the brains or the brawn to get her out. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it more than him.’

  Both men looked taken aback.

  ‘All right, sorry, love…’ said one, holding his hands up to protect himself (from what? from me? surely not). But I wasn’t so easily placated.

  ‘Pro tip: never slag someone off if there’s a possibility their best mate is standing next to you!’ I snarled (I hadn’t intended to snarl, but it just kind of came out that way). ‘Also, I’m not your love. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’ And I stormed off, not sure where I was going but heading instinctively towards the food truck, horribly aware that I’d probably just made a spectacle of myself.

  ‘Jodie! Wait!’ Debbie flew after me. I rounded the corner of the house and stopped, letting her catch up. I could feel my cheeks burning. ‘Blimey, they rubbed you up the wrong way, didn’t they?’

  ‘You heard what they were saying about Tony,’ I said. ‘They don’t even know him.’

  ‘Not like you do,’ she said, smiling knowingly.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing, just that you’re his best mate. Shall we go and get a cuppa? I reckon our scene’s going to get held up again.’

  ‘All right…’ I felt myself deflating. We headed over to the truck, where Gino was clearing away the remains of a breakfast buffet; they’d started filming early that morning, before we’d got there. We helped ourselves to tea from the big catering urn and sat at a picnic table.

  ‘So…’ said Debbie conversationally. ‘That were unexpected.’

  ‘Tony’s always loved animals—’

  ‘I don’t mean him wading in like a hero, I mean that six-pack.’

  ‘Hadn’t noticed it,’ I said, stirring my tea. She laughed.

  ‘I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’

  ‘What’s got into him, anyway?’ I asked. ‘Throwing himself into that lake for that stupid dog! It could have been full of pondweed; he could have got himself all tangled up in it. You saw how deep it was; it could have been dangerous—’

  ‘Would you have been this annoyed with Nathan if he’d done it?’

  ‘What? I dunno. Probably
not. It’s his job though, innit?’

  ‘And that’s your answer, love.’ Debbie sat back, sipping at her tea in a self-satisfied – I’d go so far as to say smug – manner.

  ‘What are you blathering on about?’ I shook my head in exasperation. ‘Are you saying that Tony’s trying to compete with Nathan? Why on earth—?’

  Debbie reached out and took my hand.

  ‘You know I love you, right? Don’t take this the wrong way, but for an intelligent woman you can be a right div sometimes.’

  ‘I’m not—’

  But I didn’t get to protest any further because our attention was snatched away from the subject of Tony and what could be behind his sudden heroics by a loud cry of pain and surprise from the other side of the food truck.

  Gino lay on the ground, clutching at his arm and howling. His normally tanned complexion was white and bloodless, and he swayed for a moment.

  ‘Uh oh,’ I said, ‘he’s either going to throw up or—’ He passed out, but luckily he was already on the floor so he didn’t have far to topple, and his head landed by sheer fluke on the soft (but smelly) bag of rubbish he’d been carrying. I squatted down next to him and very gently rolled him onto his side, into the recovery position, being careful not to touch his arm.

  ‘It’s all right, Gino,’ I said, as he groaned. ‘Just lie there for a moment until you feel well enough to sit up.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Debbie, looking around. I nodded towards the stairs that led down from the truck.

  ‘He’s fallen down them, I reckon,’ I said, as Lucy arrived at high speed followed by some other crew members.

  ‘What the—? Oh, bloody hell!’ she said, looking shocked but also exasperated, as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening now. I couldn’t blame her; the shoot had been eventful thus far, but not terribly productive.

  Gino groaned again and sat up, crying out in pain as he moved his arm. I reached out and put my arm around his shoulder on the opposite side, holding him steady and upright.

  ‘I think you’ve broken it,’ I said, noticing the weird position his elbow was in and that the skin around it was already starting to look swollen. No wonder he’d passed out. ‘Can you wiggle your fingers?’

  Gino looked pale and sweaty. ‘I can’t even feel my fingers, let alone move them.’

  I looked up at Lucy. ‘Gino needs to go to the hospital. Right now.’ She looked at me for a second, probably debating whether or not to demand who the hell I was, then nodded and took out her phone.

  ‘My truck…’ said Gino. I patted him very gently on the good arm.

  ‘Don’t worry, if you let me have your keys I’ll lock it all up for you.’

  ‘But the food…’ he protested weakly. ‘I started lunch prep. It’ll all go to waste…’

  ‘Jodie’s a chef,’ said Debbie brightly. ‘She can do it!’

  Tony and his film-star friend Faith had arrived on the scene, aware that they and Kimi’s soggy doggy were no longer at the centre of the drama.

  ‘Jodie’s a brilliant cook,’ said Tony enthusiastically. ‘I hired her to do my wedding.’ Faith looked at him, disappointed. I wasn’t sure if he noticed, but he followed that up with ‘Not that it went ahead…’

  The ambulance arrived quickly and Gino was loaded into it. Before they shut the doors and drove away, he called to me.

  ‘Here are the keys to the truck,’ he said. He was propped up on a stretcher with his arm in a rough splint to stop it moving. The paramedic had already given him a shot of strong painkiller and he looked much calmer, although still pale. I reached for the bunch of keys he was holding, but he drew them back slightly. ‘Do you really know what to do? I’d rather let them eat takeaway than have someone who doesn’t know the difference between a zabaione and a crème anglaise loose in my kitchen.’

  ‘Zabaione is egg yolks, sugar, and marsala, while crème anglaise has cream, milk, and vanilla in it,’ I said. ‘Okay?’

  He looked surprised for a moment, then smiled and relinquished the keys. ‘Okay, I’m convinced. Thank you. But I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Ciao.’

  ‘Ciao…’

  The paramedic reached out to shut the door and smiled at me. ‘He won’t be back tomorrow,’ she said quietly. I nodded.

  ‘Thought not.’

  Lucy rounded everyone up after the excitement was over, determined to actually get some filming done. But without me, as I was swapping being a pretend domestic for being a real one. It was time to get back to doing what I really loved: cooking.

  I picked up the bag of rubbish, rounding up the trash that had burst out when it had broken Gino’s fall, and dumped it in the industrial-size wheelie bin nearby. Gino must have been carrying it down the stairs and, unable to see his feet or find his footing, taken a tumble. As I headed back to the truck, though, I noticed something strange…

  The stairs weren’t attached to the vehicle; they were a wooden set, five steps high, that could be picked up and presumably put inside the truck when Gino and his kitchen were on the move. I guessed that the original back door, probably with pull-down steps, had been filled in when the caravan had been fitted out as a mobile kitchen, to maximise space, and it had been simpler to just build this set to use as and when needed. But that wasn’t the strange thing.

  The strange thing was, the second step down was broken right in the middle, presumably where Gino had put his foot and all of his weight, making it give way and send him tumbling to the ground. He was very lucky he hadn’t got a leg caught and twisted in the remaining stairs, otherwise he could have had another broken limb to go with his arm. What made this strange was the fact that the wood looked thick and strong enough to hold the weight of someone much heavier than Gino. So why had it broken?

  And that wasn’t all. The step had snapped in half, right in the middle. Half of it was still attached to the set of stairs, while the other half lay in the grass. I picked it up and studied it carefully. The end that had snapped off the edge of the stair housing was jagged, with splintered pointy bits sticking out. I held it up against the stair housing and it was easy to see how it fitted together. The other end, though – the bit that would have been in the middle of the stair – was smooth and straight. No jagged bits.

  That really was the strange thing. I felt my phone ring in the pocket of my jeans (all phones had to go onto vibrate the minute you got near the set) and looked at the caller display; it was someone who could not have chosen a better time to call. I answered.

  ‘Hi, Nathan, fancy a cup of tea?’

  Chapter Seven

  Nathan did fancy a cup of tea. He couldn’t get away just then, but promised to come over and see me in a couple of hours. Which was just as well, because lunchtime was approaching and I had to carry on getting the food ready.

  Everything was half-prepared: vegetables peeled, onions and garlic chopped, ovens on to heat. It wasn’t immediately apparent what Gino had been planning to cook, but luckily he’d written out a menu for the whole week, and I was able to work out which dishes the mushrooms had been heading for, and that the sweet potato was destined to be roasted in spicy chunks as a filling for Mexican wraps.

  I made a creamy chicken and mushroom sauce to go with fettuccine pasta; a lamb curry, chunks of succulent meat with a beautiful rich gravy; a vegan jackfruit and bean chilli (so simple, and the jackfruit tasted just like pulled pork); and lots of fillings for the wraps – guacamole, the roasted sweet potato chunks, salad leaves. I even discovered some ‘vegan feta’ in the fridge: tofu marinaded in olive brine and herbs to give it that salty tang. I tried a bit, despite never really having been a fan of tofu, and it tasted great, although the texture was less crumbly than real feta.

  The beauty of the hot dishes was that they could be kept on the hot buffet counter all afternoon and, if anything, they would taste even better by the end of the day, the flavours having intensified. Whenever I make a curry, I always make enough for two da
ys, and it always tastes even better the day after it was made.

  I put everything on the warming plate on the counter and then looked up. There was a queue of people, some grumbling at the wait. Time had flown by and it was already 12.30, and some of them had been here since 5 a.m., setting up lighting, so they were starving.

  ‘Buon appetito!’ I said, remembering Gino the day before, and everyone tucked in. I opened the back door and gingerly made my way down the steps, watching out for the broken one. It was hot inside the trailer, but out here there was a cool breeze.

  I sat on the steps fanning myself for a moment.

  ‘So this is where you’re hiding!’ Debbie stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. ‘I didn’t think I’d have to join all the chavs queuing; I was hoping for some special treatment from the chef.’

  I laughed. ‘Tell me what you want and I’ll grab you a plate. And some for me, too. I’m starving.’ I was. It had been hard work, and I’d been so busy that I hadn’t noticed my own tummy rumbling until I stopped.

  I grabbed us some plates of food (Debbie went for the pasta, while I went for the vegan tortilla wrap – I’d been intrigued by Gino’s dish – and I was glad I did because it was delish). I was all for us sitting quietly round the back of the trailer but Debbie shook her head.

  ‘I can’t sit on those steps in this dress,’ she said, reasonably enough. So we headed round to the front and joined the rest of the cast and crew at the picnic tables that had been set out in an open-air canteen.

  ‘Jodie!’ Tony was sitting with Faith, looking very cosy, but when he saw us he got to his feet and came over.

  ‘It’s amazing how many movie stars these days have got lapdogs, innit,’ I said to Debbie, apropos of nothing. She snorted with laughter as he sat down with a rueful grin.

  ‘I can’t get away from her,’ he said in a low voice. ‘She’s really nice, but it’s getting a bit much. She says I’m her lucky charm.’