Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance

by Tracy Corbett

  ‘Poor baby. Let’s get you inside. Bring Panda with you.’

  Will passed over Poppy’s bag. ‘Thanks, Mum. You’re a lifesaver. Sorry you had to cancel golf.’

  She gave him a tight smile. ‘Oh, well, these things happen.’

  He leant over and kissed Poppy’s cheek. ‘Be good for Nanny,’ he said, waving her off. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Bye, Daddy.’

  They headed inside, his mum placing a protective arm around her granddaughter’s shoulders.

  Hopefully, Poppy’s spirits would improve once her nanny had made a fuss of her.

  It didn’t ease his guilt, though.

  Or curb his agitation.

  Which is how he ended up speeding through another amber light as he drove away from Chobham. He waited for the flash of a camera, but thankfully luck was on his side this time. He slowed, adhering to the speed limit, and fought his anxiety as he wove through the back lanes towards Windsor.

  How the hell was he supposed to cope with his daughter wanting a new mummy? He’d dealt with all manner of difficult phases over the years. Toddler tantrums. A refusal to sleep in her own bed. Chewing her fingernails. Only eating ‘dry’ food. All of which he’d negotiated, some more smoothly than others. But they’d overcome them and emerged the other side with no obvious psychological issues. Not that he knew of, anyway.

  This latest problem was proving trickier to resolve. He’d just have to hope that like all the other phases Poppy had gone through, that she would eventually get over it.

  But was it even reasonable to expect a kid to get over not having a mummy? He was a grown adult and he was still struggling to deal with losing Sara. So maybe he was expecting too much from Poppy. But what could he do? He had no idea.

  He reached Windsor town centre and swung his car into the private car park they’d been given use of, waving his pass at the security guard as he drove past.

  His tires screeched on the tarmac as he skidded to a halt. Then throwing open the driver’s door, he ran towards the old railway station museum.

  As he entered, Will was met with a blast of noise. Raised voices mingled with the sound of banging as workmen fitted a lighting rig beneath the domed-glass ceiling. The railway platform was filled with extras ready for filming, all kitted out in 1950s eveningwear.

  Standing centre stage was the director, a thick-set man with a short fuse. Running late was not the way to impress him. He was jabbing a finger at Frankie Roberts, shouting something about a necklace.

  Frankie looked flustered, an unusual sight. Frankie was the epitome of professionalism. Always prepared, always in control, and always super-efficient. Not today. Today she looked like a scolded schoolgirl.

  She spotted Will approaching and scurried over in her platform heels. ‘We have a problem,’ she said, like he hadn’t worked that one out himself. ‘A continuity error from yesterday’s filming.’

  He frowned. ‘What kind of error?’

  ‘Megan was wearing the wrong necklace.’

  ‘Why?’

  She hesitated, her eyes refusing to meet his. ‘Err… not sure.’

  ‘I thought all the costumes were supposed to be checked for continuity.’

  She nodded. ‘They are.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  Frankie wore the expression of someone who knew the answer, but didn’t want to admit to it. ‘Like I said… I’m not sure.’

  ‘Bollocks. You know exactly what happened. Tell me.’ His raised voice made her flinch.

  ‘It was a mistake, that’s all. It could happen to anyone.’

  Realisation dawned.

  He’d worked with Frankie long enough to know she didn’t make mistakes. And if she did, she’d admit to it. Her hesitation meant only one thing. She was covering for someone else. And that someone could only be their new costume designer.

  ‘It was Lily, wasn’t it?’

  Frankie nodded. ‘I only spotted the error when Megan arrived on set this morning.’

  ‘But you said there was a problem with yesterday’s filming?’ Beads of sweat broke out on Will’s neck. ‘Are you telling me Megan was wearing the wrong necklace for the whole of yesterday’s filming?’

  Frankie’s eyes dipped to the floor. ‘Sorry, boss.’

  Oh, hell.

  ‘Why didn’t you notice the mistake yesterday? That’s the whole point of continuity checks?’

  Frankie grimaced. ‘Normally… yes.’

  ‘Then why didn’t anyone spot Megan was wearing the wrong bloody necklace?’

  Another hesitation. ‘Because… I wasn’t here.’

  ‘Where the bloody hell were you?’

  Another flinch. Silence followed.

  He took a step closer. ‘Frankie, where were you yesterday?’

  ‘I was at the wholesalers, picking up the material for Megan’s next dress.’

  Will ran his hand into his hair. ‘Let me guess, material that should have been delivered?’

  Frankie shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’

  ‘I admire your loyalty, Frankie, but quit trying to cover for her.’ He rubbed his damp hands on his jeans, trying to contain his temper. ‘Shit.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, boss.’

  ‘This isn’t your fault,’ he said, supressing the urge to kick something. ‘It’s mine.’

  Frankie’s eyes grew wide. ‘How is this your fault?’

  ‘Because I hired her. The buck stops with me.’

  He knew it was a mistake not to be here yesterday. He’d been hosting a client meeting, trying to assure the local authority, police, and senior military dignitaries that the project was on schedule, under budget, and hadn’t hit any unforeseen hurdles – even though he’d spent the entire morning trying to find a replacement bouncy castle supplier, because the previous one had gone bust. He’d foolishly thought everything would be okay on set, and that the team could cope without him. How wrong he’d been.

  He glanced up and saw the director making a beeline in his direction. He didn’t look happy. ‘Where’s Lily now?’

  ‘Back at the trailer, working on the next dress.’

  He bit back an expletive. ‘And where’s the correct necklace?’

  ‘Locked in the trailer’s safe.’

  ‘Fine. Tell anyone who asks I’ve gone to fetch it.’

  He ducked away, before the director gave him a bollocking. Even if it would have been a well-deserved bollocking.

  This was entirely his fault. He was responsible for ensuring all the departments did what they were supposed to do. And when they didn’t, it was his head on the block.

  He thumped the double doors leading into the car park, making them swing open and slam behind him as he headed outside.

  Why the hell had he hired Lily Monroe? His sister was right. He’d carried out no checks, obtained no references, and had hired her purely on the basis of falling for her on holiday. His stupid lovestruck heart had overruled his normal logical brain.

  And boy, was he paying the price.

  By the time he’d driven through town and parked up by the large wardrobe trailer in Windsor Great Park, his irritation levels had risen from annoyed to full-blown enraged.

  He wasn’t sure whom he was madder with – Lily or himself. But right at that moment, it was her error he was focused on. His shortcomings could wait until later.

  He jumped up the trailer steps and pushed open the door without knocking, determined to tear strips off the woman inside. ‘Lily!’

  He saw her jolt at the sound of his yell. She was crouched down, a tape measure around her neck, a row of pins between her lips. She lost her balance and landed on her bum, dislodging the pins from her mouth.

  He marched over, fully intending to let rip, but his anger was interrupted by the sight of the dark red material pinned to the tailor’s dummy.

  He had a sudden flashback of Lily wearing her clingy red dress in the Caribbean. The way she’d giggled after consuming too many Pina Coladas and presse
d against him when they’d danced. It was enough to momentarily derail his anger.

  A wash of longing crawled up his insides instead.

  Damn it.

  Then he remembered this wasn’t the same woman he’d met on holiday. This version of Lily was clumsy, tearful, and incompetent. Fun and flirty Lily was long gone.

  But even as sadness swept over him at the loss, he fought to hold on to his anger – anger he could deal with, loss he couldn’t.

  Regaining her balance, she had resumed kneeling. ‘Did you want something? Only, the second dress has to be ready by next week and I’m nowhere near finished.’ She sounded testy and looked slightly flustered by the intrusion.

  She was annoyed? Flaming cheek.

  He stared at her. She was wearing skinny black jeans, flowery-patterned plimsolls and a fitted cornflower-blue top. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and there was a hint of colour in her cheeks.

  She definitely looked less fragile than last week. Her appearance was more polished, less… dishevelled. Plus, she was wearing lip gloss. He was glad. It meant he could shout at her without feeling like he was kicking an orphaned puppy. ‘Forget next week,’ he snapped. ‘It’s this week we have a problem with.’

  She looked up at him warily. ‘What kind of problem? I mean, everything’s done. I know it is. I’ve checked.’ She picked up the wodge of crumpled paper from the floor. ‘I’ve checked your brief a zillion times. I haven’t missed anything else.’

  ‘Except for Megan’s necklace.’

  A look of confusion washed over her. ‘What are you on about? She was wearing the necklace when she left here just an hour ago, I put it on her myself.’ And then she gasped. ‘Oh, no, has it gone missing? Has someone stolen it?’ She scrambled to her feet. ‘Have you called the police?’

  ‘Calm down.’ He raised his hands. ‘It hasn’t been stolen. It’s the wrong necklace.’

  ‘The wrong necklace?’ Her frown didn’t let up. ‘What do you mean, it’s the wrong necklace?’

  He forced himself to keep cool. ‘There were two necklaces in the case.’

  ‘Well, yes, I know that.’ She sounded impatient.

  ‘We used the other one for filming on Tuesday and Wednesday.’

  ‘Again, something I already know.’ Her hands went to her hips.

  He clenched his fists. ‘Then why did she switch to wearing the other necklace yesterday?’

  ‘Because the first one chaffed.’

  Had he heard right? ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘It gave her a rash. Here.’ She touched the side of her neck. His gaze was drawn to Lily’s pale skin and exposed collarbone. He looked away. The temptation to kiss her was a distraction he didn’t need. ‘She asked if she could wear the other necklace instead.’

  ‘And you let her?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ She shrugged. ‘Both necklaces look exquisite and suit the dress. Why not wear both?’

  Seriously? ‘Because of continuity.’

  A pause. ‘Continuity?’

  ‘Yes, so that the same scene being filmed on different days looks identical.’

  ‘Oh… right.’ Her bluster faded as she absorbed his words. ‘Of course, yes… I knew that.’

  ‘Really? Because at the moment Queen Elizabeth arrives at the state ball wearing one necklace and leaves wearing a completely different one.’

  The colour drained from Lily’s face. This was followed by her teeth digging into her lower lip… which was oddly distracting.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Now do you understand?’

  She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  ‘Thanks to you, we’ve lost a whole day’s filming. All yesterday’s work will need to be reshot.’

  ‘Oh, goodness. I’m so sorry.’ She looked mortified, but that wasn’t good enough. It was a costly mistake.

  ‘I don’t get it, Lily. You’re an experienced designer. This is basic stuff. How did it get missed?’

  ‘I… I don’t know.’ The colour in her cheeks returned. She was embarrassed. Good, she should be. ‘Human error?’

  ‘But that’s why there are continuity sheets, so that when the scene is revisited at a later date everything can be checked.’

  ‘Right.’ Her eyes darted about the trailer, her hands ringing together. ‘Good system.’

  Was she for real? ‘If people use it, yes. Clearly, you didn’t.’

  She grimaced. ‘It would appear not.’

  ‘And what’s worse, you sent Frankie to pick up material you should’ve already ordered, so there was no one on set overseeing the filming yesterday.’ His voice raised in volume, as his annoyance bubbled to the surface. ‘How did this happen, Lily?’

  No response.

  He waited, determined to get to the bottom of her ineptitude, but still nothing was forthcoming.

  She was shaking. Tears had pooled in her eyes and she was struggling to swallow.

  Once again, he was consumed by guilt. Like he needed to feel guiltier than he already did?

  But he quashed the feeling. He was justified in being pissed off. She’d messed up. Again. He had every right to yell at her… So why did he feel so crap about it?

  He rubbed his forehead. He was wasting time. He should be on set.

  ‘You know what,’ he said, heading over to the wall safe. ‘There’s no point dwelling. We just need to get it sorted.’ He punched in the combination.

  She followed him over. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘But there must be something?’

  He removed the jewellery case and turned to face her, his anger lessening at the sight of her tearstained face. ‘Just don’t do it again.’

  She shook her head so hard she made her hooped earrings sway. ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  ‘Good. Because we can’t afford to lose another day’s filming.’

  She was staring up at him, her close proximity magnified by the cramped conditions. He could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. Last time she’d been this close, they’d been kissing. ‘I’m so sorry, Will,’ she said, her voice barely audible. ‘I feel terrible.’

  He swallowed awkwardly. ‘Yep, me too.’

  There was a brief drawn-out moment when they just stood there, eyes locked, neither one breathing.

  And then he came to his senses and remembered his sister’s warning about allowing himself to get distracted by a crush.

  He brushed past her and headed for the door. He’d never let anything interfere with the success of his business before. This only served to remind him why that was. ‘And I’m still waiting for those reference details,’ he said, pushing open the trailer door. ‘You assured me I’d have them by Monday. It’s now Friday.’

  ‘Sorry, there’s been a bit of a hold up. I’ll get them to you as soon as possible.’

  He turned to her, wondering why he was allowing her to fob him off with a string of excuses. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone else behaving this way. But then, no one else had ever affected him this way. He had to at least try and remain professional. If any other contractor had caused him this much grief he’d have sacked them long before now.

  And then he remembered the quality of the ballgown she’d produced. Her organisational skills might be severely lacking, but he couldn’t fault her creative talent. The dress was exquisite.

  Still, she was on thin ice. His patience would only be stretched so far.

  ‘Sorry again for the mix-up,’ she said, brushing away tears.

  He refused to soften. However hard it was to see her cry.

  ‘Me too,’ he said, exiting the trailer. ‘I need to go. The director’s waiting.’ He jumped down the steps onto the gravel.

  So what if she was sorry? He was sorry too, more than anyone could imagine.

  Sorry that’d he’d ever met Lily bloody Monroe.

  Sorry that he’d let his heart rule his head.

  And sorry that he’d sullied his professional reputation by allowing himself to be hoodwinked by a
woman who clearly didn’t want anything to do with him… which was probably the real issue here, if he was honest.

  She didn’t want him.

  And that hurt more than he wanted to admit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saturday, 3 July

  Lily had never considered herself to be short-tempered, but she was living in a constant state of stress these days. She wasn’t sleeping well, she was working long hours, and she was on edge the whole time. This was definitely not helped by trying to avoid any unnecessary contact with Will Taylor and also waiting for her lie to be exposed. It was no wonder she was exhausted.

  She stretched out her back, stiff from sitting cross-legged for so long.

  The trailer was blissfully quiet today. During the week, the space was filled with piles of costumes and dressmaking paraphernalia. It was a bustle of noisy interruptions, her ‘do not disturb’ sign no longer proving effective at keeping interlopers away. If it wasn’t actors needing a fitting, it was one of the costume assistants asking for instructions, or someone from the design team wanting to talk through her ‘vision’ for future scenes. It was hard enough focusing on the current dress, let alone working out what was coming next. But no one seemed to appreciate that.

  Realising she was fighting a losing battle, she’d spent yesterday working on the designs for all the remaining costumes, sourcing materials, and placing hire orders for some of the men’s pieces – like the ceremonial robes for King Henry VIII. No way was she attempting to make something that complicated and intricate. There wasn’t enough time. The festival was in less than a month. Compromise was required, whether Will approved or not.

  Consequently, it had been a tiring day, but it meant that she could now answer any number of questions about her designs, so it had been worth it. It also meant she’d lost a day working on the current dress, hence why she was back in the trailer on a Saturday, working while everyone else was enjoying a weekend off.

  She went over to the small kitchenette and flicked on the kettle.

  She’d thought her job at Clothing Connexions had been hectic. The whir of sewing machines and hot conditions, coupled with a demanding boss who’d set stupidly high targets for output, was a constant challenge. But this had been balanced with the quiet of her home life. Her home had been a peaceful space, in which she’d had time to think and unwind. Unfortunately, the tranquillity of her previous life was long gone. It had been several weeks since she’d had a moment to herself. She was shattered.