She put the refilled plate down in front of Daniel. “Just make sure you get all your school work done.”
A nod. Daniel worked hard; no complaints there.
Still — she knew that as he got older, teenage years looming … things could change.
And she’d then have her hands full with two teenagers, all on her own.
She loved them dearly … but it wasn’t always easy.
She was about to get up and start filling the dishwasher, a task that Daniel always pitched in on, when she heard the fanfare ringtone from her mobile.
Now — where was it?
Right.
Out in the living room, still buried in her handbag.
She walked there, and dug out the phone.
“Sarah? How are you dear?”
Her father.
They didn’t chat too often by phone, but Sarah made sure that she got over to her parents’ place at least once a week. Sometimes she thought they worried about her — and raising the kids.
They had taken her divorce hard, and though that was now a few years ago, they still found it difficult to accept she was a single mum.
“Hi Dad. Everything okay?”
Slight hesitation.
“Yes. Everything’s, um, fine. Look we’ve got Will Goodchild over. And, well, someone from that film they’re making. Think you could pop over for a bit?”
“Sure. Dinner’s done here, Daniel’s about to dive into schoolwork.”
“Oh –and Sarah … I’ve asked Jack to come along.”
And that stopped Sarah cold.
Jack?
With Will Goodchild, the village historian?
This clearly wasn’t social — which meant that something was up.
She wanted to ask her dad exactly that was.
But if she could be patient, after a ten-minute drive she’d get answers.
And she thought …
Jack must be wondering what this was all about as well.
“I’ll be right over, Dad,” she said. “Bye.”
She went out to the kitchen to tell Daniel she’d be gone for a bit.
And though she guessed that he’d be excited to hear that she was going to meet someone from the movie … for now she’d just tell him that her father wanted to chat about something.
After a couple of years of working with Jack, the two of them doing investigations, it didn’t take long for questions to start popping into her head.
And she had to admit — racing out of her small house — she absolutely loved it when that started happening.
3. Sanctuary and Suspicions
It was getting dark when Sarah pulled up outside her parents’ house and crossed the gravel drive to the front door.
She could see three cars parked — including Jack’s.
As usual, she opened the front door and walked into the house as if she still lived there.
The sprawling place, with its wide lawns that sloped down to the river, would always be home for her, no matter how old she got.
And when she got to the sitting room, everyone was already armed with a cup of tea.
“Sarah — thanks for dashing over,” her father said.
Jack did a small salute to his partner-in-crime. “Sarah …”
Will Goodchild stood by the fireplace, cup and saucer in hand.
And in the wing-backed chair nearest him, a young woman, blonde hair — her blue eyes dazzling even from across the room.
Someone from the movie company, her father had said.
Sarah knew exactly who it was.
One of the stars.
Her mother bustled in ready to hand over the mandatory cup of tea.
“Sarah, sweetie … nice and hot. Mint — just the way you like it in the evening.”
The steamy vapour laced with mint was almost too strong.
More like time for a glass of Pinot Grigio, Sarah thought.
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Sarah, Jack just got here as well,” her father said. “So … perhaps Will — you might explain about this little meeting?”
Will nodded. The man — a veritable treasure trove of historical knowledge, especially about the Cotswolds — put his teacup on the fireplace mantel.
“Sarah, Jack, this is Zoë Harding. She — well Sarah you may remember — must have been a few years after you moved to London … won a Best Newcomer award? A remarkable Glass Menagerie, so I’m told …”
“Of course,” Sarah said, going over and shaking the young woman’s hand. “Didn’t you star in Romeo and Juliet at the Globe last year?”
Zoë smiled, nodded. “Yes.”
“Didn’t see it — kids you know. But God,” she turned to Jack, “the reviews, well … as they say a star is born.”
Zoë laughed at that. “Well, it did get me the part in this movie.”
Then silence for a minute; Sarah still didn’t have a clue what the meeting was about.
Then: “Wait, was it you … that had that accident today?”
Zoë nodded. “News travels fast, hmm.”
“Accident?” Jack said, shifting in his seat.
Sarah knew Jack had to be wondering what this was all about.
“Yes. My horse …” Zoë said. “Just reared up, threw me. I was side-saddle …”
“Historically accurate,” Will added.
“And then he came down, quite close apparently. Nearly got the stuffing knocked out of me,” she said with a grin.
But Sarah noticed that neither her father nor Will Goodchild were smiling.
“You see, Sarah,” Will said. “Seems like a few things have plagued this production, all to do with Zoë here.”
“Just accidents, I’m sure,” Zoë said. “Still — we’ve lost a few days on the schedule here and there.”
The actress took a breath. “No one’s happy about that.”
Then — after a pause — Jack: “Sure they’re accidents?”
The question made the smile evaporate from Zoë’s face.
“I mean, yes. God, what else could they be?”
At that, no one said anything.
Sarah looked at Jack.
She could guess what he was thinking.
In his world accidents are never just accidents.
Will lightly clapped his hands together as if commencing the monthly meeting of his Historical Society.
“So then, let me get to the point. Why we asked you over to meet Zoë, yes?”
On cue, Sarah’s mother stood up. “And I’ll go and put the kettle back on.”
“It was your father’s suggestion, really …” Will said.
*
Sarah sat down on the couch near her dad.
“Will here has been serving as historical advisor to the production.”
“Local advisor, that’s all, really,” said Will looking embarrassed. “They’ve got all sorts of high-powered researchers back in London …”
“But nobody who really knows this area like Will,” said Zoë, her smile dazzling. “He’s been fantastic, helped me so much …”
“Though it seems like history is the last thing anyone on the production is concerned about,” Will said.
“What’s the story?” Jacks said.
The actress answered. “It’s the tale of the great romantic rivalry between Oliver Cromwell and King Charles I over the legendary beauty, Lady Ann Seymour. That would be me — at least when I’ve spent hours with makeup and hair,” she said grinning.
“Unfortunately, the whole story is — well, quite frankly … impossible,” Will said.
Jack looked up at the historian. “And why is that, Will?”
“Because … well, the historical record shows that Oliver Cromwell was deeply committed to his wife and had no interest in romance whatsoever. My God — he was a puritan! As for Charles I, well his marriage was exemplary.”
“Interesting,” Jack said.
“And there is absolutely nothing in the historical record to show that Ann Seymour ever met ei
ther of them!”
“Never let the truth get in the way of a good story, hmm?” said Jack, grinning.
Sarah shook her head at that, wondering just how do these movies get made?
“But Will, if that’s the case, why do they need a historical advisor?”
Will laughed at that. “Good question. My job is to make sure that all the other events and details of the script and story are as accurate as possible.”
He paused, and Sarah saw the actress who had been sitting so quietly, look up to him. “But it’s Zoë here, that I am concerned about.”
“You mean after today?”
“And the other things that have happened. I mean, she got a nasty cut a few days back.”
Zoë raised her palm and showed a bandage. “In my role I was supposed to put up a hand and beg Cromwell to put down his weapon.”
“It should have been a prop sword …” Will said. “Totally harmless. But …”
“Another accident?” Jack said. “I’m guessing Will, you don’t believe it’s an accident? And you Zoë?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure it was,” Zoë said. “And today … well something spooked the horse. Things happen.”
“And, er, I have heard some of the crew use the word ‘jinx’,” said Will.
“I didn’t know that,” said Zoë.
Jack put down his teacup. “Movie crews can be pretty superstitious …”
“Anyway, the long and short of it is,” Will said. “I’ve discussed this with Michael and Helen. And I had a favour to ask of you Sarah, you too Jack …”
Sarah didn’t have a clue what that favour might be.
But looking at the actress — beautiful and polished as she was — and Sarah could feel something else there.
She’s afraid.
“What’s that, Will?” she said.
“I’ve discussed this with Zoë … and I don’t think she should stay with the rest of the main cast at Repton Hall. I think it might be … safer for her to be somewhere else.” He took a breath. “Rule out any other … accidents.”
Zoë laughed at that. “Even if I am showing myself to be highly accident prone.”
Will — Sarah noted — didn’t laugh.
Maybe because he’d been on the set?
And maybe … there were other things he’d seen that — for now — he hadn’t told the actress?
“So, as I say, we’ve been chatting to Michael and Helen here …” Will said slowly … “and they’ve very kindly invited Zoë to stay here for a few weeks.”
“Guest room’s not quite up to Repton Hall,” said Michael, “but it’s — you know — any port in a storm, eh?”
“It’s a lovely room,” said Zoë. “I feel looked-after already.”
And Sarah had this thought …
Zoë Harding doesn’t really think these things were accidents.
“And Sarah,” continued Will, “we were hoping you might find time to drop by some evenings — if Zoë needs a bit of company?”
“Love to,” said Sarah. “I’ll bring my son, Daniel. He’s become obsessed with movies!”
“Fantastic,” Will said. “And Jack—”
Will turned to him. “Jack — a big favour to ask you as well. Think you might serve, well, as Zoë’s driver? Get her to the set, bring her back … and—”
Jack filled in the gap. “Maybe also keep an eye on things?”
“Yes,” Will said, exhaling. “I’d feel so much better, and you too, right Zoë?”
She nodded. “Yes. I mean, this all sounds so silly now.”
Sarah looked over at Jack. She guessed he was thinking the same thing she was.
The actress is scared.
Of what, of whom … who knew?
And Will Goodchild was as well.
“Funny thing, Will. Once did precisely that. They were shooting an Al Pacino movie in NYC, and it looked like some fishy stuff going on. Accidents, sabotage, some angry mob guys not getting paid off. So for a few days, I went undercover and became Al’s ‘driver’. Wore the chauffeur’s hat and everything.”
Will nodded. “Perfect! I’ve cleared it all with production. And of course — there won’t be any need of a chauffer’s hat …”
“Don’t feel obligated, Mr. Brennan.”
“Jack, please. And Zoë — it would be a privilege. As you say, probably nothing but a string of unfortunate events. Still, won’t hurt — for Sarah, me — to look around a bit. Talk to people, without it seeming too suspicious. As you say, Will — perfect.”
“Do you need to get all your things from Repton Hall …?” Sarah said.
Zoë stood up. “I brought over a bag. The basics — for at least a few days. Once I’m on set, the costume and makeup people will have their way with me, so I don’t need much.”
Jack stood up as well.
“And I’ll pick you up in the morning. What is your — what is it called?”
“My call time? ’Fraid it’s early, seven a.m.”
Jack laughed. “I remember that as well. Movie shoots are all day affairs. No worries though — always been an early riser.”
Sarah would have liked to talk about this with Jack.
His first thoughts, his concerns.
But for now, it was important to leave the young star to settle in.
Hardly the luxurious rooms of Repton Hall.
But safe.
At least — that’s what she thought …
4. Driving to the Set
Jack pulled into Michael and Helen Woods’ drive at six-thirty a.m. sharp, the black Mercedes gliding gently to a halt outside the front door.
Will had arranged delivery of the luxury rental the night before — in place of Jack’s Austin Healey Sprite.
“No need for you to use your car,” Will had said on the phone. “The production company will pick up the bill. And a Mercedes is probably a little more … appropriate … don’t you think?”
In other words — don’t even dream of using that tatty, tiny, old sportscar.
The drive from Jack’s boat, moored just upriver on the Thames, had only taken five minutes on the empty roads. But that had been enough to convince Jack that the next couple of weeks’ driving was going to be sheer joy.
Power, comfort, soft leather, amazing sound system, this was the life …
And here he was — with plenty of time to get to Repton Hall for the seven a.m. call.
He looked across at the house — and on cue Zoë Harding emerged, carrying a bag. Even at this time of the morning, with no makeup, T-shirt, leather jacket and jeans — she looked amazing.
She opened the front passenger door and climbed in the seat next to Jack.
“Morning Jack.”
“Zoë. Looks like a gorgeous day.”
“We set?”
He saw her turn to him, her blue eyes dazzling, her smile easy.
A deep breath. “Let’s go.”
He eased the car back down the drive and onto the main road that led up to Cherringham and beyond.
And with the sun rising behind them, the village glowing ahead, a Bach concerto playing gently — and a beautiful movie star at his side — Jack settled back into the cream leather seat knowing he was going to enjoy this drive.
*
On the main road, Jack eased the Merc up to sixty and let her glide.
“You a morning person, Zoë?”
“When I have to be!” she said smiling.
She reached into her rucksack, took out a small steel thermos, flipped the top and sipped.
“Herbal tea,” she said. “Keeps me going …”
“Gotta stay healthy, huh?”
“In this business, control and discipline is everything. You have to stay fit, focused. Especially when you’re on a tough shooting schedule like this.”
“You like being in a movie?”
“Adore it,” she said. “Well — let’s say I was adoring it, until things started to happen …”
Jack watched
the road ahead.
Sometimes a car ride like this was better than an interview room for really listening to what a person had to say.
“You’re scared?” he said.
“No. Well — not scared of what might happen to me. But yes — I am scared of what it might do to my career.”
“Important step, this film, huh?”
“Massive. From theatre to Hollywood movies? It’s like a gate that only opens just the one time for you. Get through it and hooray … you’re in the movies. Fail — and you don’t get another offer.”
“Lotta stress — especially if things go wrong.”
“I can deal with that. Doesn’t bother me.”
“But it bothers the people around you, I guess,” said Jack. “They on your back?”
“Not as far as I know. Anyway — that’s what my agent’s there for. Let them shout at her!”
Jack smiled.
Nice kid, he thought. Got her head screwed on right.
He checked his mirror and edged over slightly to let an eager motorcyclist go flying past. Already there was early commuter traffic on the road.
“So what are the people like — you know, the guys you’re working with?”
He waited while Zoë took another sip from her flask and then put it back in her bag.
“Well — Zac and Karl — they’re such angels, been looking after me since day one …”
“They’re the other leads, huh? I’ve seen them in a few things.”
“God, I know — they’re both so experienced.”
“But they’re on your side, yes? Helping the newcomer?”
“Oh totally. Zac’s my King Charles — and he is really a fluffy spaniel, all long hair and soft eyes. Karl — he plays Oliver Cromwell — he does the dark brooding thing, but you know, in real life he’s so … normal. Always trying to make me laugh before my take. Love him to bits.”
No dirt there, then, thought Jack.
“And what about the director?”
A pause.
A bit less enthusiasm …
“Alphonso — oh he’s crazy! Never knows what he wants. And I can never understand him, his English is all over the place!”
Jack had done a little late-night research online about the movie, so he had a good sense of who was who — careers past and present — but he wanted to hear Zoë’s version.
“I remember reading somewhere that this was make or break for Alphonso?” he said.
Cherringham--Final Cut Page 2