by Anne Styles
They had a few days' rehearsal and a week's filming, followed by two days in the television studios. By me end of the first day's rehearsal Sarah wanted out. But she was an actress, and she prided herself on being professional, so she knew she had to grit her teeth and get on with it.
'We picked a real bum one in this job,' she sighed to Nick when he came to her flat on Monday evening for supper.
'It's a top series,' he encouraged. 'It got all the awards at BAFTA this year, and Patrick's a good actor.'
'He's the pits!' Sarah declared. 'The thought of doing a love scene with him is turning my stomach.'
'You were spoilt having James as a leading man,' he teased.
'I know I was!' Sarah shuddered. 'Patrick just doesn't seem to know about soap. His feet and armpits stink!'
'Maybe it was a bad day for him too,' he suggested. 'We all have those, and weekends too!' 'How was Diana?'
Nick shuddered. 'Not fun!' He smiled. 'Thank goodness the politicians took over your publicity.'
'For how long, I wonder?' He pulled her onto his lap. 'We'll just have to be very careful, and stay out of sight for a bit - even if I have to cook!'
'Is my cooking really that bad?' She sounded hurt.
'No, the chili was surprisingly good, after what you said about your cooking. It depends on what else is in your repertoire.'
'Not a lot,' she admitted ruefully. 'Damn Peter!'
'Best therapy I can think of,' he smiled, as they went to bed later. 'Roll on Portugal!'
'Three whole weeks to wait,' she sighed, but knowing she could come home to Nick in the evenings made up for her days with the less than fragrant Patrick.
Nick went off to recce his locations in Portugal for a few days, and Charles took the opportunity to invite her to his box at Covent Garden for a new production of Swan Lake, with a raved about French dancer Sarah was anxious to see. Lonely without Nick, she was delighted to see Charles, and appearing in public with him would be a great deal safer at the moment than appearing with Nick, she thought, so she accepted, and went happily.
Charles had also invited George and Maggie, to her surprise, having bumped into George at a City Livery dinner a few days before, and Liz and Rupert Saunders also joined the party. Sarah practically gave two fingers to those members of the audience who recognized her, and positively crowed when a few of the gossip columns mentioned the occasion in the papers a day or two later, much to Patrick's fury.
The high spot of the week was going to audition for Barry Harper at the National. Nick had found time to coach her on the scenes she had to prepare, and Barry was delighted, she knew. He auditioned her on the stage of the Lyttleton, since it was not being used that day, and even the empty theatre inspired her as she performed to the half-dozen or so production staff.
The morning she was due to fly to Portugal Oscar rang to say she had got the part, so she and Nick celebrated with their inevitable champagne on the plane. Champagne and Club class was becoming a way of life for her, she thought gleefully, and decided there and then that it was going to continue if she could possibly manage it.
Nick had arranged for them to fly out a day earlier than the rest of the crew after an initial panic when Diana had thought that perhaps she would come as well, since her parents' villa was so close by. Nick had struggled to talk her out of it on the grounds that he would be too busy, but he only breathed easily when she was asked to take over a colleague's class for a few days.
At least he could travel openly with Sarah, since they were working together, and he didn't give a damn what the agency thought about their sleeping arrangements. The agency producer was an old friend anyway, which was the reason Nick was doing the shoot, and he knew he was quite safe with Gareth. He had tolerated Gareth's illicit girl-friend on a shoot more than once. Overseas commercials were always a great opportunity for the agencies to have a good time, away from wives and regular partners.
On his first recce with Gareth they had booked a small villa complex for their use rather than a hotel. They usually ate out in the evenings on a job like this anyway, and only needed a maid to do the cleaning up and serve breakfast, so it suited their purpose admirably.
Flying out early meant that he and Sarah had two nights and a day before the others arrived - officially for Nick to recheck the locations, but spent, in fact, lying by the pool in the still warm sun or in bed.
Sarah knew that was where she was at her best for him and she never tired of his demands. He always seemed to find new ways to surprise her, and he only had to touch her for her to be ready for him, so desperate was she not to lose him.
Ronnie was amazed to find they were still heavily involved. 'I would've thought that pretty young boy-friend was much more your scene,' he told her as he did her hair the first morning of the shoot. 'I'm surprised you ditched him.'
'I'm afraid I have a taste for vintage wine these days,' Sarah teased. 'Even if there is a great deal of aggravation and awful publicity attached to it.'
'Keeps the spice going,' Ronnie advised wickedly. 'Just be careful; he might decide to marry you, then all the fun would be gone!'
'I don't think there's much chance of that,' she sighed. 'Anyway, I've only known him for five months.'
'Time enough for some - look at James and Cress! How's Sir Charles, by the way? You certainly live the high life these days!'
'He's fine, I think.' She was non-committal. 'I'm going riding at Hastings Court with him when I get back.'
'That should get the Press going again! You really like living dangerously, miss!'
'Oh, sod the Press! I don't think I care any more!' Sarah shrugged, but she did, and she knew it.
* * *
In the next few days she felt like saying sod the agency and the client, as they all interfered with every shot and constantly discussed her hair and wardrobe, driving Nick to distraction.
It was all teasing, lingering shots of two beautiful people. Nick on a commercial was an inventive director with a creative eye, and used every possible opportunity his locations gave him.
With her hair and make-up attended to between every shot, Sarah had never looked better, and her riding skills were being tested to the full. Wearing a long, fairytale dress on horseback, and riding on every surface from beaches to clifftops and pine forests, she needed her wits about her, and she was grateful that her leading man was also an expert rider.
Commercials were the one time Nick had to bow to the opinions of others, but to her surprise he was amazingly patient with actors and clients alike. He was so different from how he was in his film work that Sarah hardly knew him.
'That's why NGA is so successful,' Ronnie said when she voiced her opinion. 'And why the clients want Nick every time. He's also the best pack-shot director in the UK, and as that's the most significant part of the shoot it's quite important.' Sarah was rarely in the studio when the close-up shots of the product were done - they always liked to get rid of the artistes before they started on them - so she was intrigued. It had seemed to her a strange thing to be thought good at doing, until she watched Nick at work.
She had the afternoon off while they did it, on the afternoon of her birthday, when Nick deemed the weather to be perfect for it. He and the crew spent the entire time almost waist-deep in the sea, with the perfume bottle on a rock, struggling to catch exactly the right wave around it. Time and time again Nick shouted, 'Cut,' and they began again, until Sarah could bear it no longer and went off to ride with her Spanish leading man.
Luis was a charmer, and she adored him. He spoke very little English - just enough to tell her she was beautiful, which didn't go down too well with Nick, and just enough to tell Nick that he would take care of her while they were exercising the horses that afternoon, which annoyed him even more.
'Stop being so possessive!' she told him with a grin that evening as she lay on their bed posing for him while he shot some photographs. She was trying to provoke him into making love to her, but he was still annoyed with he
r.
'I have every right to be jealous,' he told her firmly. 'Remember, I speak Spanish. I've heard exactly what Luis would like to do to you!'
'Well, like Charles, he won't get the chance,' she retorted, and rolled over, holding out her arms to him. 'Come here. Nick,' she demanded. 'And put that camera down for a while. What if Diana sees these pictures?'
'She won't, don't worry. These will live in my computer which she doesn't see! The rest will go to the agency.' However, he did as she asked and put the camera down, gathering her up against him. 'I hadn't forgotten it was your birthday, you know, if that's what you thought when you were trying to make me jealous - and succeeding, I might add.'
'I thought the flowers and stuff this morning were my birthday present.'
'Only from the boys.' He fished in his briefcase. 'Twenty-five is a special age; it deserves a special gift!' He was competing with Charles, though he tried to deny it to himself, but Sarah gave a shriek of delight at the Cartier watch she unwrapped. She had ruined her previous watch, diving off the boat in France.
'You are clever. Nick. I can think of you every time I look at it!'
'That was the general idea, only don't go deep-sea diving in it this time! The Rolex like mine that you covet so much will come when you get your Oscar, I promise!'
Sarah wound her arms round his neck. 'I won't. Now, have I time to thank you properly before we go out?'
'No,' he said sadly. 'You'll have to wait, for once. We can't keep everyone else waiting - much as I'd like to!'
* * *
In the run-up to the premiere of the film Sarah thought she would go mad. Her life was a nightmare of work: the Barbara Bentley play, interviews, photographic sessions and the game shows she had always done - and was even more in demand for now that she was more of a celebrity. Trying to dovetail it all in with Nick's busy life was proving to be impossible half the time.
They snatched lunches in the daytime, or quiet dinners and occasionally the theatre, or he would come to her at midnight some nights, exhausted after a hard day, and just fall asleep in her arms. The more she knew of the pressure he worked under, the more acquiescent she became - trying to be there when he wanted her, spending long hours alone waiting for him, learning first-hand what it was like to be the girlfriend of a married man when he went home for an occasional weekend with his daughter. Finally she gave Nick a key to her flat, and it gradually became their habit to use her home rather than his. Sarah always felt un-comfortable at Regent's Park, knowing that Diana could turn up or phone at any time.
He was soon keeping spare clothes in her wardrobe, and his toothbrush and shaving equipment lived in her bathroom. Used to looking after himself, he was quite at ease shopping for food on his way to Oakley Street if they felt like eating in, and, to her astonishment, was not even averse to cooking if Sarah was later than he was.
For all the exalted position of his working life he was a surprisingly practical man, she found, quite able to repair broken items and fix things that had been irritating her for months.
There were even rare, relaxed evenings when she felt almost married, as Nick sprawled comfortably on the sofa with a book or a script and she sat working on her tapestry while they played some of her father's precious collection of records and tapes of old musicals. She was well aware that she saw more of Nick than his wife did, yet she always knew that Diana had first claim on him, and she frequently had to bite back her frustration on that score. But Nick had been honest from the start about Diana, and though Sarah had the option to break it off, as he also did, she knew that nothing would make her do that.
Cress worried about her, knowing that Sarah would accept very little sympathy. 'She'll get tired of it eventually,' James counselled after they had dropped her off one evening. 'Or Nick will get bored.'
'I'm not so sure about that,' Cress said. 'They both seem very determined to carry on somehow. Nick really is unfair to mess her around like this; she has no real life of her own.'
'Well, at least she's started to spend time with Charlie instead of moping around all weekend.' James shrugged. 'Maybe something will come of that. Charlie dotes on her.'
'Maybe, but she doesn't think of him that way,' Cress asserted. 'Mind you, after those earrings he gave her, I think I would!'
'He and Nick will bankrupt themselves fighting over that girl,' James said wryly. 'I'm very glad you don't expect that of me!'
'There's only one thing I want from you,' Cress laughed.
They were so happy together. Cressida often had to pinch herself to remind herself it was real. Their erratic lifestyles had dovetailed together with amazing ease, and James, to his surprise, had quickly adapted to domesticity in the house he had owned and maintained for several years in a state of chaos, which had been swiftly transformed by Cress into a comfortable home.
Fortified by her cooking skills, and now able to find a clean shirt by opening a drawer instead of going out and buying a new one, he had begun to look forward to going home in the evenings, instead of heading for the nearest pub for company. All they had to worry about was his ex-wife actually marrying the man she had announced her engagement to. Cress resented furiously the hassle she put James through over money, judging, quite accurately, that he was too easygoing to argue with her.
A couple of days before the premiere they felt confident enough to invite Nick and Sarah around for dinner to watch the television review programme which was pre- viewing the film.
'This is wonderful!' Sarah enthused, looking round.
'You've worked miracles. Cress!' She had heard stories of the house, when James had lived alone, and had been appalled.
'She even wanted me to do some decorating!' James sounded mortified.
'Did you?' Nick raised his eyebrows in surprise.
'The hell I did! I got a man in for her instead,' he replied, grinning. 'Wish I hadn't, though. It's costing a fortune!'
'About time!' Cress put in, pouring wine at the kitchen table. 'I think it must've been wartime when this place was last painted.'
'I have to admit, life has improved,' James admitted. 'I open drawers and find socks in pairs.' 'I'm still finding odd socks and shirts!' Cress laughed. 'I can't believe the shirts he's got.'
'And she keeps taking things to the cleaners,' James added, teasing.
'I employ a lady to do that,' Nick grinned. 'It's cheaper in the long run.'
'You also have a wife to organize things,' Sarah said quietly.
Nick felt relaxed enough to kiss her in front of them. 'We're not talking wives tonight,' he told her. 'Don't frighten James completely.'
Cress had made a boeuf bourgignon - 'After I spent a week cleaning the oven!' - and its quality was matched by Nick's careful choice of wine. Sarah felt slightly uncomfortable faced by Cress's cooking prowess when her hostess then produced a perfect pavlova for dessert, as she knew Cress had been working all day.
'It's an easy recipe,' Cress assured her. 'I'll show you' '
'Sarah's not as bad a cook as she makes out,' Nick defended, his hand on hers. 'I haven't starved yet in her flat, and her chilli is great!' They were easy with James and Cress, the only friends they trusted.
James produced an Islay malt for Nick, knowing his tastes, and Cress turned on the TV in the living room for the show. 'Let's see what sort of an idiot Nick made of himself in this interview,' she teased, knowing Nick's hatred of appearing in front of a camera.
'Let's see what sort of review they give us,' Nick rejoined, pulling Sarah back against him on the sofa. The programme was renowned for its acerbic comment on films.
Laughing, they watched the inevitable clips of James and Sarah making love, before the interview Nick and Sarah had recorded with the presenter in Nick's office the week before came on.
'Were you drunk?' Cress demanded, in hysterics as she listened to Nick's evasive answers in reply to the interviewer's questions on the reported problems between him and Sarah.
'We had our moments,' Nick had said
finally. 'There were times I wanted to strangle her, I admit, but we are the best of friends now.' That had all of them in hysterics, not just Cress.
The important thing, however, was the programme's opinion of the film.
'Sarah Campbell,' the reviewer pronounced at last, 'is sensational. Totally believable as Abigail. Unusually for screen lovers, she and wonderful co-star James Willoughby have a compatibility you can believe in. From their first meeting to the incredibly realistic love scenes. Definitely one to see, folks.'
'Wowee!' cried Cress. 'That is some credit - especially from him! I'm not so sure about the realistic bit, though! James . . . Sarah . . .!' Sarah avoided James's eyes quickly.
'Only acting of the highest calibre!' James shielded the lower half of his body from Cress's assault as they rolled around on their sofa.
'I told you!' Nick hugged Sarah. 'We're on a roll! BAFTA, here we come!' Sarah only shivered, still not wanting to believe stardom could come from displaying her body so freely.
She hated the lovemaking shots. They were all the TV shows and newspapers were using. Maggie was giving her hell about it, and George, as she'd told Nick, had laughed. 'You've certainly grown since I had to bath you!' he had teased, though he was taking some stick about it in the City and threatening to raffle her off in his office. She still had not seen the film in its entirety, managing to avoid, so far, any showing of it. Nick had given her a copy, but she hadn't even managed to watch it in the privacy of her own living room.
CHAPTER 15
Charles was taking her to the royal premiere of Home Leave. Once she accepted that Diana was going with Nick, it was inevitable.
On the night, with Charles's hand on her arm, Sarah sat in the car staring with fascination at the sight of her name above the film title on the poster emblazoned across the cinema. The central motif of the film was a drawing of James kissing her in the chiffon slip, with her hair flowing across the poster. Seeing the crowds, she braced herself. She was wearing the blue-green dress from her New York trip, with a close-fitting jacket added by Catherine to combat the November chill. With her hair loose, she swept through the onlookers at the cinema, aware of Nick and Diana's eyes on her as she played the star. Hugging James in the doorway, she knew the flashbulbs were popping. Her whole being was concentrated, then, on showing Diana how special she was.
