She continued uphill, her shoulders aching from the weight of her rucksack and from struggling to carry the large bin bag filled with her clothes.
Heading for the pedestrian-only area of the town adjacent to the castle, Lily still couldn’t believe this was going to be her home for the next two months. It was beyond surreal. A world away from her family home in Haringey.
When she’d finally left the local authority flat, it had looked so forlorn minus her grandparents’ belongings. Like all the life had been sucked out of it, leaving only faded wallpaper marks and carpet dents where the furniture had once been. The items she couldn’t bear to part with she’d put into storage. The rest had gone to charity shops. All that was left of her life had fitted into a large bin-liner, a rucksack, and one suitcase… which she was currently lugging up a steep hill. Such was her life.
Locking the flat’s door for the final time and walking away had been one of the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. It was brutal, like reliving the loss all over again. Feelings which were only magnified by being waved off by her tearful neighbours and handing over the keys to the housing officer.
But it was done now, and hopefully this was the start of phase two of her life.
Lily walked past the giant bronze statue of Queen Victoria guarding the entrance to the castle. The stately monarch looked ominous and foreboding with her stern expression and sceptre held aloft. Then the lanes narrowed and the cobbled stones again made walking hard work. It was the heart of the tourist area, the tall, narrow buildings centuries old and converted into cafes serving cream teas and antique shops selling knick-knacks and royal souvenirs.
Dainty tables and chairs were arranged outside the cafes, squashed full of visitors enjoying a Sunday outing. Vibrant hanging baskets bursting with colour hung from the period awnings above. It was a fascinating sight.
Lily tried to hear Google Maps above the bustle of the busy lanes as she manoeuvred her luggage through the narrow gaps in the crowd, apologising when her suitcase caught on chair legs.
Finally, the app announced she had reached her destination.
She stopped walking and checked the address. This was where she was staying?
Ahead was The Crooked House Tea Rooms, an aptly named three-storey building with a definite lean to the left. At street level it housed an olde-worlde cafe with a quaint and welcoming bay window shop front. Above, was a second storey dominated by a sash window, and above that was a small attic window. It looked quirky, charming and very unstable.
But this was her new home for the next two months. How her life had shifted in such a short space of time.
Just six weeks ago, she was still working at Clothing Connexions. That was before she’d dramatically quit her job and announced to her stunned colleagues that she was ‘off to seek her fortune’. A move that had felt incredibly foolish in the weeks that had followed.
She’d subsequently registered with numerous film and TV recruitment agencies and sent out her CV to a host of companies, only to be bombarded with a stream of rejections and ‘no, thank you’ replies. It was disheartening. It wasn’t like she was looking to get paid. She just wanted the chance to work alongside an experienced designer to see what the role entailed.
But it turned out a load of other people wanted the same thing. Young designers straight out of college, who’d happily work an unpaid internship if it meant they got their big break. Lily had nothing to offer, other than a decade’s worth of experience working in a clothing factory. Not exactly impressive stuff.
All the enthusiasm that had buoyed her to take a leap of faith had deserted her. She now felt idiotic for quitting her job. She should have listened to her colleagues and secured another role first. And although she didn’t miss her job, or her draconian boss, she did miss her friends. Life without work or her grandparents had suddenly become a very lonely place.
But just when she’d resigned herself to downgrading her expectations and taking another factory job, she’d received a phone call from one of the recruitment agencies she’d registered with offering her a two-month contract on a small tour guide film soon to begin shooting in Windsor. She couldn’t believe it. It was perfect. They needed someone in the wardrobe department urgently, and she happened to be available. Talk about luck. Plus, the job came with accommodation. Double bonus.
She was about to head inside the wonky building, when a woman said, ‘Are you part of the festival team?’
She turned to see the woman approaching. ‘Err… yes, I am.’
‘Excellent. So relieved you found us okay.’ The woman extended her hand. ‘Frankie Roberts, Senior Designer. Good to meet you.’
Lily dropped the bin bag she was holding and shook the woman’s hand. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Lili— Lily Monroe,’ she said, nearly slipping up. She was Lily now. She needed to get into character. And judging by the exuberance of the woman standing in front of her, the sooner she did that, the better.
Frankie Roberts wasn’t that tall, but her red platform boots and mass of orange dreadlocked hair spilling from beneath her red trilby hat added to her stance, making her presence seem huge. Her black dress was adorned with embroidered flowers and expanded out from her waist like a spinning top. She looked like a creature from a different world. A mythical being. An advert for how a ‘creative type’ should look.
And there Lily was. Standing there wearing faded jeans, one of her gran’s twin-set cardigans, and carrying her worldly goods in a bin-liner. Talk about humiliating.
Frankie gestured to the building. ‘Let’s get you checked in. Can I give you a hand with your luggage?’
‘That’s okay, I can manage.’
But Frankie was already wheeling Lily’s suitcase towards the entrance.
Lily hoisted up her bin bag and followed the woman into the tea rooms. It was a cramped space filled with visitors and smelt heavenly of cake.
Frankie lifted Lily’s suitcase up the narrow winding staircase as though it weighed nothing and wasn’t crammed full of her belongings. ‘You don’t know how relieved we are to have you on board,’ she said, glancing back. ‘You saved the day. And I, for one, am extremely grateful. The commission from this project will pay my mortgage for a year.’
Lily was a little confused. How had she saved the day? She was an apprentice. Hardly a key role.
Frankie smiled. ‘I love your cardigan. Is it vintage?’
‘I guess.’ If being decades old and purchased by her grandma counted as ‘vintage’.
‘You must be quite the savvy shopper. It’s in such good condition. You’ll have to tell me all your secrets. I’m always on the hunt for a vintage bargain.’
Lily figured the woman was being polite. Although Lily enjoyed making clothes, she didn’t follow fashion. She liked period pieces. Fancy dress outfits. Fashions from bygone eras and extravagant costumes created for the stage and screen. But she had no interest in what was ‘on trend’, as Taye would say. Or what was currently being sported on the runways of Paris. Modern fashion held no appeal.
Maybe that was because unlike Taye, or Ruby from the hair salon, Lily had never worked out what her ‘style’ was. The closest she’d come to being ‘modern’ was on holiday when she’d purchased a few coordinating outfits and had used photos from Vogue as inspiration to design a couple of evening dresses.
But perhaps it was time to rethink that. After all, if she wanted to be taken seriously as a costume designer – even one starting out – she needed to look the part. And right at that moment, she looked more like a lowly cleaner than a member of a creative wardrobe department.
She followed Frankie up the second set of stairs. It was steeper than the last and lacking a handrail. Precarious stuff.
‘You’ve been allocated the attic room,’ Frankie said, seemingly unfazed by the perilous stairway. ‘I hope that’s okay?’
‘It’s absolutely fine. I don’t mind where I stay.’
Frankie stopped at the top and opened the door. ‘Rental p
rices in this area are astronomical. I’m afraid it’s quite basic.’
‘Honestly, it’s fine. I still can’t believe my rent is being covered.’
Frankie looked confused. ‘Why wouldn’t we cover your rent?’
Lily raised her eyebrows. Err… because she was an apprentice? Working on an unpaid internship?
At least, she assumed it was unpaid. Salary hadn’t been mentioned so far, which had to mean she was working for free. But that was okay. She just needed the experience. And if her rent was being covered, then she wouldn’t have to dip into her nest egg much. She was more than happy with the arrangement.
Frankie headed into the room. ‘Anyway, you might want to check out the room before you get too grateful.’
Lily followed her, figuring anything was better than crashing on a mate’s sofa.
And then she saw the space. It was a delightful box room with a slanted ceiling and a wide sash window. A single bed was shoved into the corner, next to a chest of drawers. Net curtains framed the window and vase of yellow sunflowers rested on the window ledge.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said, admiring the soft white walls and low-beamed ceiling.
‘It is?’
‘Really. It’s gorgeous.’
Frankie didn’t look convinced. ‘Whatever you say.’
Maybe Frankie was used to grander dwellings, but Lily had spent her entire life in a local authority flat. And she’d spent the last week sleeping on Taye’s sofa. By comparison, this place was positively palatial. And it overlooked a castle, for goodness sake. How many places could boast that?
‘There’s a bathroom on the lower floor. Breakfast in the cafe is included in the rent, but no other meals.’ Frankie looked apologetic. ‘Sorry.’
But Lily wasn’t upset. Far from it. She didn’t have to pay for breakfast. Result. ‘No problem.’
‘The landlady will make you up a packed lunch, if you ask, as long as you let her know the night before. We don’t get a formal lunchbreak,’ she said, heading for the door. ‘You know how it is on these projects. Crazy hours.’
Actually, she didn’t, but she was here to learn. ‘Thanks for the heads-up.’
‘I’ll leave you to get unpacked. Come and join us at The Carpenters Arms when you’re done. It’s just across the lane. You can’t miss it.’
‘What, now?’ Lily inwardly cringed. As if she didn’t already appear clueless enough, she was now resistant to daytime drinking. But she was exhausted from a week sleeping on a lumpy sofa and she just wanted to rest up and have an early night. ‘I hadn’t planned on going out tonight. Long journey, and all that. I don’t want to risk a hangover on my first day of filming.’
Frankie laughed. ‘God, I don’t function without a hangover. It won’t be a late one, I promise. And it’ll be good for you to meet the team ahead of tomorrow.’ She smiled. ‘We can bond over Mojitos. I want to hear all about your design career.’
A conversation that wouldn’t take long. Lily’s design career had yet to start.
But that was about to change. As of tomorrow, she could officially class herself as an apprentice designer. No longer a lowly pattern-cutter working in factory, but someone working on a real project. It was beyond exciting. And scary. And petrifyingly unknown.
‘Okay, one drink.’
‘Excellent. See you there.’
Left alone, Lily opened her suitcase and unearthed her sewing machine and the ancient iPad she’d brought with her from Haringey. She didn’t have many belongings with her, so the lack of cupboard space wasn’t a problem. And it wasn’t like she’d be in here much. She was due on set at seven a.m. tomorrow, and she anticipated long days ahead of her.
Not that she minded. This was the start of her dream career. It might be baby steps, but she was headed in the right direction. She didn’t even mind what tasks she’d be excepted to do. She was here as an apprentice after all. She’d happily make tea, sew hems, and reattach buttons. Anything, as long as she got to see how it all worked on set. Maybe if she impressed them enough they would offer her a decent reference. Or work on another project.
But she was getting ahead of herself. She needed to keep her head down, work hard, and apply herself. There was no room for pride. Lily was starting at the bottom and she was okay with that.
Half an hour later, she was unpacked. Her clothes were in the chest of drawers, the photos of her grandparents were placed on top, and she’d made up the bed.
She thought about changing outfits, but what would she put on? Her wardrobe consisted of comfortable jeans and simple tops. Not exactly a good advert for a costume designer. Maybe she would knock up a few items during her evenings so she had something more in keeping to wear. Nothing as bold as the outfits she’d worn on holiday, but something a little livelier than her current insipid wardrobe. Good plan.
For now, she brushed her hair and applied lip gloss. Not great, but suitable for an afternoon drink in a pub.
She headed down the two flights of stairs and out through the tea rooms on to the cobbled lane. A few of the souvenir shops had closed for the day, but the cafes were still busy. Behind her, the castle glowed in the late afternoon sunlight, the grey turrets silhouetted against the pale blue sky.
Ahead was The Carpenters Arms, a traditional British pub housed in an attractive period building. The tables outside were full, a bustle of noise and chatter. She couldn’t see Frankie, so Lily headed inside. She wasn’t likely to miss the woman, not with her abundance of bright orange hair.
Pushing open the door, she was immediately hit by more noise. The interior decor was classy, with wooden flooring, dark grey walls and chandelier lighting. Bodies filled the bar and surrounding tables. It looked like a popular haunt.
She made her way through the crowd, but there was no sign of Frankie.
The doors at the back were open, leading to an enclosed courtyard, surrounded with large potted ferns. The middle was filled with seating and even more drinkers.
She was about to head inside, when a woman shouted, ‘Will!’
Lily instantly flinched.
Memories of her time in the Caribbean came flooding back. Like an unstoppable wave, her brain filled with images of a handsome man with blue-grey eyes and a dimpled chin.
But she shoved the thought away. That was the last thing she needed. She’d made a concerted effort of late to forget all about Will Taylor. He was consigned to the past. No longer a factor in her thinking. He was relegated to the compartment of her brain reserved for ‘what might have been’.
Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? He crept into her thoughts all the time, despite her best efforts.
But it wasn’t likely to be the same Will, was it? A lot of men had the name ‘Will’. It was common enough. The chances of it being him were non-existent.
It didn’t stop her turning around, though. Just to be sure. To put her mind at rest.
A man was standing in front of her. The sun was directly behind him, so she couldn’t see his face. Even so, something shifted inside her. There was a stirring sense of familiarity.
Or was it foreboding?
Either way, her nerve endings jumped to life, screaming at her to run. Escape. Disappear before…
‘Lily…? Is that you?’
Oh, hell.
She jerked backwards as if she’d been tasered. Momentum sent her reeling, and she tripped on a chair, toppled backwards and landed with a heavy thud on the courtyard floor.
Pain radiated up her spine and into her elbow, but that paled into insignificance by the torment raging in her head.
Will Taylor was here? In Windsor? At the same pub as her?
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t logical. Or rational. Or plausible. She’d imagined it. It was a figment of her mind. An hallucination. Brought on by the stress of losing her job, leaving home, and by not sleeping properly.
But then he was there. Right in front of her. His face fully in focus. His light-brown hair moving in the breeze. It was most definitely him
.
‘Lily, are you okay?’ His grey-blue eyes locked on hers, intense and searching. ‘Are you hurt? Can you stand?’
She wasn’t hurt, but she was far from okay.
And as for standing? Her legs were never likely to work again. She was staring into the eyes of a man she never expected to see again.
Will Taylor.
The man she’d had a holiday fling with.
The man she’d lied to about being a costume designer…
Holy. Crap.
Her brain skidded to a halt as realisation hit.
Oh, God, no. Please, no.
And then she was being lifted up. By a woman at one side, Will the other.
She risked a glance and realised he didn’t look anywhere near as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Which set off a whole host of alarm bells in her head.
It was too much to hope this was a crazy coincidence. Serendipity or whatnot. Or just plain bad luck. This was an ambush. Strategic entrapment.
‘Wh… what are you doing here?’ she managed to say.
‘Having a drink with the team before we start filming tomorrow,’ he said, holding her steady. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today, though.’
So he was expecting to see her then?
‘Have you just arrived?’ He studied her face. ‘Is your room okay? Can I get you a drink?’
Oh, God. What was happening?
She tried to formulate her thoughts. There was nothing in the brief information she’d been given by the agency to indicate this project had anything to do with Will’s events company. If it had, she’d have run a mile.
‘I… I was told this was a SmartFilm production,’ she said, her voice wavering.
‘It is.’ He hadn’t let go her of arm, the warmth of his touch a distraction she could do without. ‘I hired the film company to produce the tour guide film.’
‘Right.’ She tried to steady her breathing. ‘I had no idea you’d be involved.’
He looked sheepish. ‘Surprise.’
Surprise…?
She had another word for it.
The woman who’d helped her up was looking at Will in a strange way. ‘Is anyone going to introduce me? You clearly know each other, but I’ve not had the pleasure.’
Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance Page 13
