by Anne Styles
They watched the cut-together film of the session with the Paras, complete with the jump, and Sarah worried anew about Nick's reaction. They had added in her falls on the assault course, but edited out the language. 'Too late to worry now,' Paddy told her wryly. 'You wanted to do it sweetheart.' He was right. She shrugged it off and got on with the job like the pro she was, though it hurt to introduce the new girl presenter. She tried to like her, but she did rather resent the easy way Philippa fitted in.
'Don't tell me you're jealous!' Peter teased, when they had retired to her dressing room in the break between dress rehearsal and transmission.
'Of course not!' Sarah bent to the mirror to hide her face from him, but she was jealous, and he knew it.
'You wanted to go off and be a film star!' he reminded her brusquely. 'Life has to go on here the same without you, whether you like it or not!'
* * *
She thought about that, and everything else, as she drove down the M4 after the show. She caught all the rush hour traffic as she left London, and was almost at the Reading turn-off before she could put her foot down. The top was off her BMW since it was a warm evening for mid-May, and it helped to let the air blow away the misery that had been building up all week. Even the crusty old gate man had wished her luck as she had left, and there was a pile of farewell bouquets on the back seat from friends and fans .alike. She was really proud that she had got through the show, and the day, without bursting into tears. Now she had the agony of a new job and a new crew to get used to.
Coming in after the shoot had started was not going to be easy - friendships had already been formed, alliances made. She was the outsider, and not even first choice. Even though Nick and Chris had said they preferred her to Harriet, the crew would be comparing them, and she knew full well that she did not have Harriet's camera experience, or her reputation in the industry.
It was nearly seven when she drove into the gates of Hastings Court. Nick had suggested that she stay there the first evening so that he could go over the script and generally update her on the shoot, a suggestion backed up enthusiastically by Charles. She had turned down his offer of a guest suite at the house full-time, preferring to stay with the unit at the nearby hotel.
After having lunch with him one Saturday, she had decided she liked him, and could not fault his manners, or behaviour, but that she preferred a little distance between herself and Charles Hastings' obvious adoration. He had astonished her by whisking her off to lunch in the helicopter he mainly kept for his own use, though since his Lloyds problems it had been used more and more for his business.
'I do own an air charter company,' he had said casually as she had voiced her surprise. 'Among others, of course!' His admiration for her was open and constant, and, though she was sure he would never press her if she was unwilling, she preferred not to take the chance. Peter was upset enough as it was, about the pictures of her with James outside Archies.
Carefully she pressed the code she had been given into the control pad by the electronic gates and then drove distrustfully through them as they opened. The road to the house was gravel, winding through woodlands still full of bluebells, giving them a misty haze of blue, and then she gave a gasp of amazement as the trees petered out and the house came into view.
* * *
She thought she would never forget that first sight of Hastings Court. From a distance the mellow-bricked Queen Anne mansion looked like a perfect dolls' house in the soft evening light as the sun dropped behind the woods and filled the horizon. The road curved over a wide stone bridge, spanning the lake in front of the house, which in turn spilled into a weir across the river that the lake led to. Across the lawns stately cedar trees seemed to curtsy in the gentle breeze as she drove past.
Unsure of what to expect, she stopped her car on the gravelled forecourt of the house and got out. Even as she did so Charles's assistant, Bernard, came out to greet her. She had met him a couple of times at NGA and smiled with relief at a familiar face. He took her overnight bag from her.
'Leave the keys in,' he said. 'I'll put it away for you. Welcome to Hastings Court, Miss Campbell.' He led the way in. 'You are a little earlier than we expected. Sir Charles is down at the stables, and Nicholas was having a swim. I'll let him know you are here after I have shown you your room.' She followed him through the stone-flagged entrance hall, with its beautiful Brussels-weave rugs, and up the spectacular sweeping staircase that split into two as it reached the first-floor landing. A high glass dome lit the carved plaster ceilings, the last of the evening sun lighting the dark peachy walls to a warm glow. Sarah marvelled at the paintings between the arched alcoves.
'It's fabulous!' she breathed as Bernard showed her into her bedroom. He was indicating the bathroom, and other essentials, but she was hardly listening.
'If you're ready, come down in about twenty minutes,' he suggested, smiling at her wonderment. Hastings had that effect on most visitors. 'They will be in the drawing room to the left of the front door.' Discreet servant that he was, he left with no sound at all.
Over-awed, she wandered around the beautiful room with its cream and green silk-hung bed, and breathed in the scent of the yellow and white spring flowers in bowls around the room. Even the bathroom was huge. She glanced at her watch and decided to have a bath there and then, laughing as she poured in the Floris oil she found beside it and slid into the scented water. She determinedly relaxed while she tried to decide which of the two outfits she had brought with her to wear.
Nick had said, 'Don't dress up', but she finally plumped for the more formal of the two outfits - the wrap skirt she had worn for her audition and a new white cashmere sweater, well aware of the way it clung to her body. Flat shoes and loose hair, she decided, for Charles's benefit. She needed him on her side that evening.
However, Nick was alone when she finally walked into the drawing room. Her heart sank, for he was obviously in a bad mood. He was on the phone, pacing around the room, arguing about money, but he paused in his stride long enough to indicate for her to sit down and pour her a glass of wine. Nervously, she sipped the wine and waited for him, wishing Charles was there.
The minute after he finally threw the receiver back on its base with an exclamation of disgust, he strode across the room to her. 'OK,' he said grimly, his eyes dark with anger. 'What the hell were you playing at?' He picked up the remote control and flicked on the DVD. She watched the sequence in silence, shrinking back into the comer of the sofa. Cress had said he would be angry, but she hadn't expected anything like this icy fury.
'When was that recorded?' Sarah shrugged. There was no point in lying to him. It was obvious from the greenery around the course that it was recent.
'Four, five weeks ago,' she admitted.
'After I told you, and Paddy, that I didn't want you to do it?' , .
'It was my decision. Nick,' she told him. Her voice was so low it was almost a whisper. 'I didn't want to let Paddy down.'
'It wasn't necessary to do it, and you knew that! Did it ever occur to you what it would have cost if you'd had an accident at this late stage, doing those stupid stunts? We would be talking millions, Sarah, not to mention forty-odd people out of work! It was difficult enough replacing Harriet, and I had six weeks to do that!'
'I didn't think of that. I'm sorry.' She bit her lip to stop herself from crying.
He could see the fear in her eyes, but he chose to ignore it. Leaning over her, he was so close she breathed the tangy scent of his aftershave.
'It's time you did learn to think, then,' he snapped. 'Remember this. From now on you are under contract to me. You disobey me - just once - and I'll put you across my knee. And that's no idle threat, believe me! You behave like a child, I'll treat you like one. I've had enough practice with my own daughter.' The tears did slide down her cheeks then. She had been so emotional all day that they had always been close to the surface. 'Don't try conning me with tears, either!' His voice was hard, and cold.
'
I'm not.' Sarah wiped her hand over her eyes. 'I am sorry. Nick, really. It's just been a bad day all round, and I knew you'd be mad. It didn't help.'
Nick managed to find a clean handkerchief and dried her tears, feeling genuine remorse then. 'For Christ's sake don't cry every time I yell at you,' he said, 'or you'll never stop! Now please stop, or Charlie will think I've been beating you already.'
'If it's any consolation to you,' she said, calmly lifting her sweater to reveal the still yellowing bruises. 'The bruises I got still hurt.'
'I'm delighted to hear it.' He was totally unsympathetic on that score.
Charles breezed in at that moment, and if he sensed an atmosphere between them he gave no sign of it. 'The new foal is just fine,' he announced to Nick cheerfully, and kissed Sarah's cheek. 'We'll take a look at him after supper, if you'd like to?'
'I'd love to.' Sarah fluttered her eyelashes cheekily at Nick. 'If Nick will allow it?' She felt safe now Charles was there, and Nick knew it.
'I swear, I'll swing for you before this shoot is over,' he sighed with exasperation. 'Come on, let's eat.'
Over supper Sarah entertained them with tales of the hilarious wind-up dinner and the gorilla-gram the boys had organized for her. 'They even gave me a chastity belt!' she giggled.
'Far too late, if I know James Willoughby!' Nick commented with a wry smile, and began updating her on the shooting schedule.
Afterwards, when they went back to the drawing room, he kept her hard at work, only softening when he realized that she was totally on top of the script and had a firm grasp of Abigail's character. 'Right,' he relented at last. 'I'll show you where everything is, and if you still need some exercise Charlie can walk you down to the stables.' They walked out to the old kitchen quarters, which had long ago been turned into storerooms. The unit had taken them over and turned them into make-up and wardrobe rooms, with the upstairs area taken up by the accounts and production staff. 'Six-thirty hair call,' Nick reminded her.
'Plenty of time for a swim first,' she told him blithely.
'Ronnie will really love it with your hair full of chlorine! I bet you don't get up in time.'
'Oh, I will. I'm going to need the exercise. I usually work out every day, and I always eat too much on location.'
'I'd better show you the pool, then,' he suggested.
He walked her through the house, talking easily about the building he had been familiar with since he was a child and obviously loved. Sarah was still inclined to be wary of him, he noted with some amusement, but he could see her visibly relax when they met up with Charles at the stables, and she was amongst the horses.
Recognizing a fellow enthusiast, Charles happily walked her around the whole yard, introducing her to his ponies, watching her obvious delight in them and smiling indulgently at her raptures over the tiny staggering foal.
Nick wandered out to lean on the paddock gate. To him, horses were for riding, not fussing over. He listened to their laughter, and the snorts and whinnies of the horses as they vied for attention and the Polo mints the two were feeding them.
Over the last few weeks he had been left in no doubt that Charles was dangerously besotted with Sarah Campbell - her name was rarely far from his lips these days. He certainly needed another wife, but whether Sarah was the one, Nick was not at all sure. Charles's circle of older, aristocratic friends would be hard on her, and he was certain their mostly frowsty wives would hate her bright young beauty.
He was curious, however, about her relationship with James. Peter he dismissed from the picture. Somehow, her references to 'my boyfriend' did not have too much sincerity in them, but James was older, and used to getting his own way - though Nick still doubted Charlotte's disclosures had much substance. Sarah had been far too doubtful about the love scenes to capitulate to that extent, he was almost sure.
Was it an urge to protect her from both of them for her sake, he wondered, or for his own? He remembered the surge of jealousy he had felt when James had taken her off to Archies after his party, the fury he had vented on Diana, and in the darkness he shuddered at the emotion the girl could rouse in him.' You are turning into a dirty old man,' he told himself firmly, turning as they came across the yard towards him.
Sarah was only an inch or so shorter than Charles, and he had her arm in his to guide her over the unfamiliar pathways. She would certainly make a very decorative addition to his life, Nick thought sourly, watching them as they walked back to the house, deep in conversation about horses and riding, as if he were not there.
Only when they reached the house did he assert his authority. 'Time you went to bed, Sarah,' he said firmly as they went in. 'I don't want a leading lady with bags under her eyes.'
'Charming! Nick, it's barely eleven,' she protested.
'What did I say about disobeying me?' She had the nerve to laugh at him.
'You never know, I might enjoy it!' Her eyes sparkled with challenge, but he noticed she ran up the stairs pretty quickly when he took a step towards her.
'You're bullying her already,' Charles grumbled as Nick turned towards the gun room they had turned into their office for the film.
'She's got the hardest twelve weeks of her life ahead of her,' Nick snapped. 'And late nights will not help! If you want to pay court to her, Charlie, you can do it on Saturdays! Or come home early for a change. I notice you managed it tonight!'
* * *
Sarah awoke to the roar of a helicopter on the lawn outside her window - Charles going off to London, she told herself sleepily - then shook herself awake. She might as well fall into the pool, she decided, since she had been so adamant to Nick that she would. It was so close, and as it was only six there would be no one else about.
Hastily pulling a tracksuit over a white bikini, she ran down through the house to find it, built into a huge conservatory on the side of the house. Only then did she discover that Nick had beaten her to it, and she was forced to share the pool with him, much to his amusement. Ronnie sighed as she unveiled her wet hair and reached for a hairdryer. 'Don't think flashing your tits at Herr-Director is going to give you an easy ride,' he told her with a knowing grin. 'It has been a real shit all week!'
'I've got more sense than that, Ronnie,' she assured him. 'And anyway, he was yelling at me within five minutes of my arriving.'
'Cress said he would do.' He finished drying her hair and began to work on it. 'Joanna,' he called to the dresser. 'Is the coffee on yet? I'm desperate - I don't know about madam, here. Have you met yet?' He introduced them just as Cress arrived, with Jenny and James. Predictably, once Cress got going, things started to move. Joanna brought coffee to revive all of them and Cressida's laughter filled the make-up area as she flew around, chatting to everyone. That morning she had all the principals in at once, as well as a crowd of extras to deal with. The first couple of hours in the day were always the busiest for her, yet of all of them she was the coolest there.
Unlike the old-style, grand film designers. Cress was a hands-on type, bred, like Nick, by television's faster pace. She was quite ready to do up buttons and laces, adjust ribbons and fasten jewellery, chivvying along both artistes and staff at the same time. The runner was already asking for an exact time when the actors would be ready, and annoying her.
'Always the same,' she moaned, yanking at Sarah's corset. 'Lighting can take all the time in the world, but costume has to be ready before all of them! Joanna, get Sarah's dress, I'll see to Mariette.' Joanna buttoned the tiny silk-covered buttons down the back of Sarah's dress. The corset was already beginning to irk her, and she wriggled continually. 'Lean into it,' she was advised. 'Don't tense up or it'll hurt even more. Put your foot up, and I'll do your boots.' Cress whisked back and pinned a cameo to the neck of the chiffon and lace dress. Sarah was exhausted already.
'You'll do,' said Cress, standing back critically. 'OK, I'll knock off some pictures and Nick can have you. They won't be ready - lighting never are - but at least you will be.' Joanna led the way from their dr
essing room area to the morning room, converted for the film into a drawing room because the French doors opened onto the garden terrace. Carefully, Sarah picked her way over the light- ing cables and assorted equipment towards Nick and Alex, the first assistant director, as they stood talking over the script. To her relief, a slow smile spread over his face.
There had been no time for costume tests or parades in the rush to get everything made, he had simply trusted his judgement and Cress's expertise from the sketches and fabric samples. For him, suddenly, after months of anguish, and battling over the script, Abigail had come to life. Sarah's height gave her the elegance of the period, and the ruffles of creamy lace and blue chiffon against her soft golden hair gave her the fragile air of innocence that he had searched for for so long.
'Perfect,' he breathed. Mindful of her make-up, he kissed her cheek lightly. 'Well done, guys,' he acknowledged.
He was hard on his crews, but he was always ready to praise where it was due. 'OK, children, let's get moving!' It was the last pleasant moment of the morning. By lunchtime, Sarah hated him. It seemed she could do nothing right for him. The corset was digging into every rib, but she dared not hold everything up while Joanna fixed it.
Yet when they broke for lunch Nick turned to her with a charming smile and said, 'Not bad!' Sarah stalked off to her dressing room in exasperation.
'I believe everything James said about him,' she sighed, sinking down into a chair carefully.
'Oh, that's nothing!' Cress assured her. 'That niggling is standard behaviour. Wait till he really gets going. Feelings don't come into it!'
'I'm not sure I can cope with it.' Sarah moaned. 'Or this damn corset!' Cress unfastened her dress to find her ribs red and sore on top of the bruises.
'Ouch!' she exclaimed with feeling. 'You should have said something! I'm amazed you got through the morning. I'm sorry, Sarah, I'll loosen it.'
