By the time Noah has pushed his way back from the bar, half a dozen cast and crew members have joined us and the pub is getting seriously crowded. Completely unnoticed by other revelers, we all wedge ourselves in a corner near to the live entertainment where a raven haired Tony Hadley look alike is busy getting himself set up along with the other two members of Spandex Ballet.
A few minutes later, anybody over the age of fifty unlucky enough to be within earshot of the enthusiastic tribute threesome is facing the real possibility of ending up in the local hospital with suspected heart attacks as the band unexpectedly launch into their first number, shouting ‘Gold’ at a level of at least a hundred decibels…
…And most of those who survive the initial onslaught appear to be liberally covered in each other’s drinks.
‘Bloody hell,’ mouths Freddy over the noise, after extracting the remnants of his plastic beaker from his top set of teeth. Luckily, most of his drink went down his throat unhindered, obviously due to lots of additional practice. Gaynor however, hasn’t come off so fortunately, and her fitted little Lycra number is now soaked in red wine.
‘Good job it’s black,’ mimes David Bollinger who providentially appears to have missed the worst of the initial blast while outside smoking a crafty cigarette.
Gaynor is furious, I can tell. However, the ear pounding sound track precludes her from complaining out loud and she resigns herself to shoving her now empty beaker at David and stomping off in the direction of the door – presumably heading towards the ladies.
I look towards Noah, wondering what he thinks of Gaynor’s petulance, only to find him grinning at David and holding out his own cup to the director with the clear insinuation that ‘if you’re going to the bar anyway…’
Sighing, David signals that he’ll bring back a couple of bottles. He points to my beaker, and I mouth ‘Prosecco’ while pointing at myself and Kit. Giving me a thumbs up, he disappears back towards the bar.
Despite the lack of conversation, I’m really enjoying myself. Noah seems completely happy to stay by my side, even going as far as resting his arm casually over my shoulder to pull my body towards his. I can’t help but think that his show of affection towards me is the best disguise he could possibly have – no one in their right mind would expect him to be out with a chubby local girl…
Makes me smile actually.
Gaynor comes back just when I begin hoping that she’s decided to call it a night, and hard on her heels is David, precariously holding a tray with four bottles on it. He waves at everyone to help themselves, after first diplomatically replacing his leading lady’s empty beaker with a generous measure of red wine. Handing it to her, he leans forward to whisper something in her ear. I have no idea what he’s saying, but, whatever it is, she blushes prettily and seems to relax.
As the director glances back towards Noah and raises his eyebrows, I register that it’s probably almost a full time job simply to keep Gaynor happy and content. I try very hard not to feel slightly superior to the volatile actress but, to my shame, I fail dismally and, shrugging my shoulders, decide to just enjoy it while it lasts, as it’s unlikely to be very long…
Turning towards Kit, I shout in her ear and she frowns in response. I try again and she shakes her head, pointing towards her ear. Sighing I try once more.
‘I SAID, I’VE GOT TO TAKE A WHIZZ,’ I yell, just as the band finishes the final note and the whole pub goes completely silent.
Yep, superiority short lived indeed.
As Spandex Ballet finish their second set, we decide to move on to give our ear drums a well earned rest with some acoustic guitar. Unfortunately, The Cherub is absolutely rammed up to the door so we elect to stay outside and send a couple of the crew to run the gauntlet to the bar.
The early evening is still pleasantly warm and the soft plaintive guitar music coming from the dim interior of the old pub is just enough to provide an atmospheric background, enabling conversation to flow once more. Somehow Noah and I get separated and, as I glance around, looking for him, my heart wobbles slightly as I see him in deep conversation with Gaynor. Whatever it is they’re saying is evidently pretty serious if Gaynor’s expression is anything to go by. Surreptitiously I watch, feeling a bit like some kind of stalker. I’m unable to see Noah’s face as he has his back to me but I hope with all my heart that he is not staring at her with the same intensity that she’s gazing at him.
Then suddenly she smiles, putting her hand over his arm and squeezing. I close my eyes and look down. I feel like my heart is being compressed – slowly, in a vice…
Fortunately, before I get too dejected, our two intrepid alcohol couriers arrive back, each holding a tray full of drinks – not a drop lost between them. As they are forcibly regurgitated through the door and out of the pub’s jam-packed interior, the daring duo are treated to spontaneous applause. When the clapping dies down, I glance back towards Noah who, to my intense relief, has now moved away from Gaynor. He laughingly helps himself to a drink from the tray before pushing his way back over to me. I smile up at him, but as I lean towards his shoulder, I can still smell her perfume lingering on his arm and my apprehension increases.
‘Is everything okay with Gaynor?’ I ask softly. As he looks down at me, I wonder briefly if I’ve overstepped the mark, but after a second, he answers with a sigh, ‘Yeah, it’s good.’ However, he doesn’t elaborate and I can’t help but reflect on how little I really know about him.
Still, now is not the time for brooding and I smile and squeeze his arm, while shoving away the thought that I’m the second woman to do that in the last fifteen minutes…
With drinks finished and no one else willing to brave the mass of humanity still squashed inside, we decide to head over to Kendrick’s and dinner. We’ve booked a private room upstairs – hopefully we’ll still be able to appreciate Joseph Bon Jovi without potentially suffering permanent ear damage for the privilege.
As we walk down the narrow street towards the restaurant, Noah drops his bombshell. ‘Hope you don’t mind sweetheart, but I invited your dad and Mabel to join us for dinner.’ I can’t help it, I look up at him in horror, causing him to laugh out loud. ‘Tory, you look like I’ve just asked Jack the Ripper to eat with us. I just wanted to buy your father dinner as a thank you for letting us use your beautiful house.’
‘He’s getting paid for it,’ I mutter.
Noah simply laughs again and pulls me towards him. ‘Don’t be a sour puss,’ he murmurs in my ear, ‘You know how much I love your smile. And anyway, I think your old man is a blast – he’s always the life and soul of the party.’
‘Yeah, that’s exactly what worries me.’ I reluctantly yield a small smile – more like a grimace really. ‘Believe me, you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Admiral Shackleford in all his glory.’
He grins again, looking like a mischievous boy. ‘That’s what I’m banking on darlin’.’
I sigh, knowing when I’m beaten. I just hope that dad hasn't left Dotty and Pickles with free access to chewable camera and sound equipment…
We arrive at Kendrick’s slightly earlier than our booking at seven thirty but the speed at which we’re ushered upstairs makes me believe that our host, Antoine, knows more than he’s letting on – still, I suppose it’s not rocket science given the number of American accents in our party.
We’ve been given the whole of the restaurant’s first floor and the creaky wooden floor, open fireplace and sloping ceilings in the medieval building are your average American’s dream. A large table has been set in the centre and everyone seats themselves higgledy piggledy. Noah and I are sat in one corner with Kit next to me and Gaynor at right angles next to Noah. Freddy has maneuvered himself to the other side of his new screen idol. Every seat is occupied except for two over the other side of the table. I don’t know whether to be relieved or concerned that my father and Mabel will be seated so far away from any kind of control. Still, they’re not here yet – they might de
cide not to come. Maybe a short prayer is in order?
Ten minutes later, the waiter has taken our drinks order and I’m starting to relax. Dad hates being late for anything – must be the military in him – and it really is beginning to look as though they’re not coming.
Unfortunately, my relief is short lived as I hear a sudden commotion downstairs.
‘Bloody hell, it’s a real cake and arse party out there.’ The Admiral’s strident tones are completely unmistakable, as is Mabel’s accompanying titter.
‘I’ll have a bottle of your red and don’t give me any of your froggy grog Antoine.’ He pronounces it Antoyne. The whole of the upstairs starts to shake as my father stomps laboriously up the ancient spiral staircase to the first floor with his hands on Mabel’s bottom. ‘Come on old girl, not far now, let me give you a leg up...
‘Apologies for being adrift ladies and gents,’ he pants, finally reaching the top floor. ‘Had to get Jimmy to row us over – you should see the bloody ferry queue on the other side. Hope you lot haven’t ordered yet, I could eat a scabby donkey between two mattresses. And I don’t want any o’ that bunny grub either.’
I wince inwardly but say nothing, silently wishing that Jimmy would once in a while get a backbone where the Admiral’s concerned.
‘Anyway, we’re here now and that’s all that matters,’ he continues, holding on to Mabel’s arm who looks as though she might fall over if she doesn’t sit down soon. Suddenly concerned that it could possibly be back down the spiral staircase, I stand quickly with the intention of helping her to her seat. However, for the first time I can remember, dad seems to be showing concern for someone other than himself and he tenderly assists his shaky partner to her chair, throwing out introductions as he does. There’s a brief wobble as she actually attempts a small curtsy but luckily she finishes up with a thump on the seat.
I breathe a sigh of relief and sit back down. Frustrating though my father is, the last thing I want is for his girlfriend to keel over in public (or of course in private – I’m not completely insensitive). Luckily, the waiter arriving with our drinks and menus gives Mabel a much needed opportunity to get her wind back without the possible need for the kiss of life.
Joseph Bon Jovi begins his performance with a lively interpretation of Keep The Faith and everyone settles down to enjoy themselves.
A couple of hours later, we’ve been fed and watered and we’re ready to boogie. My father has announced to all and sundry that he’s full to the gunwales, which I think is a less than subtle hint that he’s had enough. Mabel however, has rallied round enough to pronounce that her dance moves were once commented on by none other than Margo Fountain and she is ready to kick up her heels. She’s in such good spirits that I don’t have the heart to correct her pronunciation of England’s most famous ballet dancer.
Joey The Lips are already under way as we arrive at the bandstand, belting out Dancing In The Street to everyone in a three mile radius. We push our way in to the thick of it where Noah adds dancing to the long list of things he’s good at and fortunately I’ve had enough alcohol to convince myself I’m Dartmouth’s answer to Madonna.
An hour and a half later, completely pooped, Kit and I decide to take a breather and grab a hot chocolate from one of the street vendors, leaving Noah, Freddy and the die-hard members of the crew still strutting their stuff to Night Fever. As I slowly sip my drink, I look around for dad and Mabel, finally spotting Mabel nodding on a bench under the warmth of a halogen heater. I wonder where dad’s got to – I wouldn’t put it past him to be off phoning Jimmy with orders to row the dinghy back over the river to fetch them.
Turning full circle I finally spot him under one of the trees talking to Gaynor. My heart drops a notch as I wonder what on earth they’ve got to talk about, but just as I’m tempted to wander over to find out, Gaynor leans forward to peck my father on the cheek before walking away and disappearing into the throng of dancers. I stand and watch as he remains where he is for a few seconds before nodding his head slightly and walking back over to rouse sleeping beauty.
‘What were you talking to Gaynor Andrews about?’ The suspicion in my voice seems well founded when he jumps visibly at my approach. ‘Bloody hell Victory, you trying to give me a coronary?’ he grumbles, helping Mabel to her feet.
‘What were you and Gaynor talking about?’ I repeat my question flatly, refusing to be fobbed off. He gives a well practiced long suffering sigh which usually means he’s frantically trying to come up with a story that’ll wash.
‘She was just thanking me for letting them use the Admiralty. Said how much she loved the house – actually wanted to know if I’d consider selling.’ I narrow my eyes at him, searching in the gloom for any telltale clues that he’s lying. ‘Honestly Victory,’ he continues in his best aggrieved tone, ‘that’s the gospel truth. I mean, what else would we have to talk about?’
I have to admit, he sounds plausible and I’m prevented from delving any deeper (which is usually when he’s most likely to crack) by the arrival of Noah, Freddy and Kit. ‘You two are looking pretty serious,’ Noah murmurs, leaning down to give me a quick peck on my cheek.
I look up at him and smile, deciding to let the matter go for now. Noah will be gone in a few short days. There will be plenty of time for parental interrogation in the days that follow.
‘How are you and Mabel getting home dad?’ I ask instead.
‘Ah, well, we’re err, sort of, what I mean is, I’m staying at Mabel’s tonight,’ he finishes in a rush, looking for all the world like a guilty teenager.
I stare for a second, trying very hard not to picture my father and Mabel getting down and dirty in Mabel’s bedroom (or anywhere else for that matter). I finally elect to ignore that possibility all together and focus on how they actually intend to get to Mabel’s small terrace in Kingswear. ‘Are you both going over on the passenger ferry then? You do know the last one leaves in twenty minutes right?’
My father glances down at his watch before saying, ‘Bloody hell Mabel, we better get our skates on or we’ll be swimming.’ Then without waiting to see his beloved’s response, he takes off towards the river front like he’s training for the Royal Marine Commando course.
Muttering under my breath about selfish irresponsible fathers, I gather Mabel’s things to walk with her to the passenger ferry. To my surprise, Noah takes Mabel’s arm, clearly intending to accompany us.
‘You don’t have to come with me,’ I say, shaking my head for emphasis. ‘I’ll find you. It’ll only take me half an hour to make sure they’re both on the ferry.’
Noah gives a slight shrug in response. ‘I’m getting a bit too old to dance the night away anyway, and it’s way past my bed time. I’ll be happy to walk you… both,’ he continues turning to Mabel with a slight bow, instigating one of her infuriating titters.
I turn to Kit and Freddy, giving them a quick group hug. ‘I’ve had a fab night guys, don’t get up to any mischief after I’ve gone.’
Kit grins, then pecks me on the cheek before turning to Noah to do the same. ‘Will we see you again before you leave?’ she asks him. ‘You bet,’ he answers with a smile. ‘Anyway, I’m practically a local. And don’t forget, you owe me a clock.’ Then, after succumbing with good grace to a kiss on each cheek from Freddy, he steers Mabel in the same direction as my dad, leaving me to follow with her handbag.
As I walk after them, I think about his comment about being a local. Does that mean we might not be over when he leaves for London? I can’t help it, I experience a surge of hope. All of a sudden, anything feels possible.
As we approach the passenger ferry slipway, Noah hands Mabel over to my father who has obviously spent the last fifteen minutes hovering on the pontoon anxiously. Serves him right. Still, at least he didn’t go ahead and board without her.
As they totter off, Noah turns to me. ‘You fancy a moonlight stroll up to my house for a nightcap?’ At my enthusiastic nod, we sneak on to the ferry after them, taking care
to stay outside so we won’t be seen.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at Kingswear. We decide to hold back for a few minutes before disembarking to give my father and his paramour a head start. ‘Watch yourself Mabel, it’s like the bloody black hole of Calcutta up here,’ are the last words we hear from the Admiral as they disappear. We glance at one another and exchange grins as we finally go ashore.
Crossing the road next to the lower car ferry, we walk hand in hand under the arch next to the small post office. The air is redolent with the scent of honeysuckle as we turn left to walk up the Alma steps following the lane which eventually turns into a private road winding around the cliffs towards the mouth estuary. The road is dotted with the most amazing houses, each one more stunning than the last, culminating at Noah’s, just before the coastal path begins.
It’s unbelievably romantic. The moon is almost full and the sky is totally clear and filled with stars. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. Out here, I can forget that Noah’s a famous movie star and just make believe that he’s my partner and we’re simply walking back home after a wonderful night together.
I sneak a glance up at his profile which suggests he’s deep in thought. ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ I say softly, squeezing his hand lightly. He tightens his hand around mine in response as he smiles down at me, eyes almost indigo in the bright light of the moon.
‘I was thinking about London,’ he answers, turning back to look up the road. My heart drops as I presume he’s already moving on from me. From us.
Which makes his next words all the more shocking…
‘I was actually wondering if you’d like to come up to London to stay with me – maybe next weekend?’ Unable to stop myself, I halt and stare up at him with my mouth open in amazement. Looking down at me, he actually laughs out loud. ‘I really do love that look on you Tory,’ he teases, ‘sort of like a fish.’ But this time I’m not really listening, my mind is playing the words ‘Come and stay with me,’ over and over.
Claiming Victory: A Romantic Comedy Page 14
