‘Gina?’ Max’s voice crackled down the phone. ‘Are you still there?’
She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Yes, I’m still here. Listen, I’d better let you go back inside. I just wanted to say hello, that’s all.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ Max said, his tone warm. ‘And I love the idea of you coming up here. Make it soon, okay?’
‘I will,’ Gina promised. ‘Oh, by the way, Rose says hello.’
She waited, willing him to say, ‘Rose who?’ but he didn’t. ‘Great, thanks – give her my love, will you?’
The phone hissed in her ear. Frowning, she held it away for a second then pulled it near to speak again. ‘Of course. I’ve been meaning to ask – how do you two know each other again?’
‘What was that?’ Max said, the words distorted by static. ‘You’re breaking up.’
‘I said, how do you and Rose—’ Another burst of crackling filled her ear and Gina gave up. ‘Never mind. Speak to you soon, okay?’
A jumble of noise tumbled out of the phone that sounded a lot like Max had suddenly been plunged under water. Gina rang off and sat cradling her wine glass, staring at the inky sky. Had Max really told her to give Rose Arundell his love? Surely that was a bit much for casual acquaintances. Then again, Gina had no real idea how well they knew each other; they’d certainly got on well the last time she’d seen them together, during a disastrous impromptu double date at the Scarlet hotel, when Gina had first discovered that Ben and Rose were dating. The bombshell had thrown Gina, making her quiet and withdrawn over dinner, and Ben had clearly been mortified, so perhaps it was no surprise that Max and Rose had carried the conversation. Even so, Gina wished she’d thought to ask then how they knew each other. Perhaps it was a subject she could tackle when she went to London. When she could see the expression on Max’s face.
Chapter Four
Gina thought Gorran might cry when he told her the council had approved his application and granted permission to use the beach.
‘That’s great news,’ she said, smiling warmly into his suspiciously damp eyes as they stood in the foyer of the Palace on Friday morning. ‘So we’re all systems go?’
He nodded. ‘Valerie and Rose stopped by to give me the news personally. I’ll get on and book the film licence, then speak to a mate in Truro about borrowing some equipment.’
‘And I’ll get the deckchairs sorted and make a start on the publicity materials,’ Gina replied, trying to ignore a stab of unease at the thought of Rose insinuating herself at the Palace already. ‘We haven’t got long to drum up interest.’
She found Ben at the top of the scaffolding in the screening room, a tub of gilt paint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. His expression was one of intense concentration as he called down to her. ‘Just give me a minute. You can’t rush the detail on these things.’
Davey was hard at work on the wall opposite Ben. He waved at Gina as she took the opportunity to glance around her; already she could see there’d been a vast improvement. The walls were no longer pebbled with ugly stiff woodchip but were smooth and creamy. There was no sign of the wooden struts that had supported the plasterboard. Instead, fresh plaster flowed into the ornate swirls of the gilt that swarmed up the edge of each wall and snaked along the ceiling; some of the designs had clearly benefited from Ben’s expert skills and others still needed some TLC but enough had been done that Gina could see how amazing the finished effect would be.
Moments later, Ben lowered his paintbrush and fixed a critical gaze on his work. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he lowered both the paint and the brush to the planks that made up the scaffolding floor and gazed down at Gina. ‘It’s not looking too bad, is it?’
‘It looks amazing,’ she said. ‘Even better than I remember.’
Ben climbed down and stood beside her. ‘Imagine row after row of plush velvet seats,’ he said, pointing to where the bank of tired old seating had previously been. ‘With all mod cons, like drinks holders and springs that don’t try to disembowel you. And dotted about in front of those will be fifteen little round tables with chairs that swivel round to face the screen, for those who prefer their cinema experience to be more Parisian.’
She laughed. ‘It sounds fabulous – I can’t wait to see it. Do you think you’ll have finished restoring the gilt by this time next week?’
Ben narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. ‘The gilt will be done but the floor needs to be resealed, and that can only be done once the scaffolding is out of the way. Then the seats and tables can go in. While that’s happening, Davey and I will finish building the remodelled bar and box office booth.’
‘And then the new carpet will be laid, right?’ Gina asked, picturing the schedule she had spread across her kitchen table. ‘Leaving us the best part of a week for dealing with any snags that come up before we re-open.’
‘Hopefully,’ Ben said. ‘The snagging should only take a day or two so there’s a bit of wiggle room there if we need it.’ He threw her a sideways glance. ‘Speaking of wiggle room, I looked into a few dance classes. There’s one tomorrow night in Padstow if you’re up for it?’
Gina stared at him, trying to ignore the sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘What kind of dancing?’
‘Ballroom,’ he said, shrugging. ‘The woman said tomorrow night was salsa but it doesn’t matter if you’ve never danced before.’
‘But we’re just going to get a feel for whether it might work to incorporate a dance lesson into the Dirty Dancing screening,’ Gina said. ‘We’re not actually going to be dancing. Are we?’
He grinned. ‘Where’s the fun in just watching?’
Gina pictured the glitz and glamour of Strictly Come Dancing and tried to imagine herself twisting and twirling to a pulsing Latin beat. It wasn’t an attractive image, until she pictured Ben doing it too. ‘Uh—’
‘Come on, what have you got to lose?’ Ben asked, his grin softening. ‘Apart from your dignity and you lost that when you fell off my surfboard at the age of fifteen.’
He had a point, Gina supposed, especially as she hadn’t simply fallen off; she’d belly-flopped into the waves with a loud shriek, in front of a packed summer beach. Unsurprisingly, it had been her one and only attempt at surfing. She did her best to glare at him. ‘You’re not helping.’
‘Look at it this way,’ he went on. ‘How can you tell whether the instructor is any good if you’re not actively following their instructions?’
‘By watching everyone else,’ she said. ‘And seeing whether they seem to be having fun.’
Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t agree. But I can’t force you to join in so let’s agree to go and take a look, and see how the mood grabs us.’
That seemed safe enough, Gina thought; the mood definitely wouldn’t be grabbing her. But Ben had been much too easy to convince. She eyed him suspiciously. ‘And you won’t shame me into dancing if I don’t want to?’
‘Nope,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I’ll pick you up at six-thirty – deal?’
She gazed into his wide blue eyes, trying to decide whether she could trust him. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘It’s a deal.’
*
Gina caught Carrie just as she was unlocking the door of Carrie’s Attic, the vintage boutique she owned just along the promenade from the picture house, early on Saturday morning.
‘Hello, stranger,’ Carrie said, her green eyes dancing beneath her dark-brown fringe. ‘I thought you’d been abducted by aliens.’
‘Sorry,’ Gina replied, pulling a face. ‘Between the refurbishment and Ferrelli’s I’ve been run ragged – in fact, alien abduction sounds restful by comparison, as long as they’re not the kind that burst out of your stomach. How are things with you?’
Carrie held open the pink and grey shop door and invited Gina to go inside. ‘Can’t complain. Business is booming, which is always a relief.’ She made her way through rails of silky fabrics towards the counter. ‘How’s the refurbishment going?’
; Gina described the transformation. By the time she’d finished, Carrie’s expression was full of delighted anticipation. ‘I can’t wait to see it,’ she said. Then she paused. ‘Who’s the guy I’ve seen Ben hanging around with?’
‘Davey?’ Gina said, frowning. ‘Ben’s worked with him before, on other restoration projects. He seems nice. Definitely knows what he’s doing.’
Carrie nodded. ‘Single?’ she asked in an idle tone, concentrating a fraction too hard on the computer screen on the counter.
A smile curved at Gina’s lips. ‘You fancy him.’
‘I do not!’ Carrie’s cheeks turned red. ‘Well, maybe a bit.’
Gina waited, eyebrows raised.
‘Okay, a lot,’ Carrie admitted. ‘But you have to admit he’s cute.’
Gina’s forehead crinkled as she summoned up a mental image of Davey Bevan. He was dark-haired, with chocolate-brown eyes and laughter lines when he smiled. He was muscular too, although shorter than Ben and nowhere near as well-defined. He wasn’t bad-looking, she concluded, but not what she’d describe as cute. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’
Carrie gave her an enigmatic look. ‘No, I don’t suppose you have. Anyway, do you know if he’s single or do I have to look him up on Tinder to find out?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gina began, mentally sifting through the few conversations she’d had with Davey. ‘Oh, I think he is! Ben was telling me he broke up with someone and had to find somewhere new to live.’
Carrie’s face fell. ‘So he’s nursing a broken heart?’
Gina racked her memory. ‘No, I think it was at the end of last year. I can find out if you like?’
‘No!’ Carrie yelped in alarm. ‘I don’t want him to know I’m interested yet.’
Gina couldn’t help laughing. ‘I wasn’t going to launch into a “my mate fancies you” routine, Carrie. I do know the meaning of the word discretion.’
The other woman gnawed at her lip. ‘Well… I suppose if you don’t make it obvious…’
‘Consider it done,’ Gina said, still amused. ‘So, apart from your undying passion for Davey, what else is new?’
‘Not much,’ Carrie said, gazing around the shop. She frowned. ‘Except that I had a visit from Rose Arundell yesterday. She says she’s organising a Dirty Dancing screening on the beach in a few weeks, with Gorran. Is that right?’
Gina felt her jaw tighten. ‘What?’
Carrie shrugged. ‘That’s what I said. And she told me that you’re busy with the refurbishment, so Gorran has asked her to take over the event management. She wants me to source a hundred blow-up watermelons and a Penny outfit for her.’
She shouldn’t really be surprised, Gina thought, side lining the competition was a move straight out of the megalomaniac playbook. Even so, she hadn’t expected Rose to be quite so blatant about it. ‘She’s meant to be helping to organise it,’ Gina told her friend. ‘Not taking over.’
‘But it is happening?’ Carrie said, looking earnest. ‘Because I have got the perfect pair of tiny denim shorts for you.’
‘It’s happening,’ Gina said. ‘There’ll be cocktails, gelato and maybe some ballroom dancing lessons – Ben and I are going to check out a teacher tonight.’
Carrie’s face lit up. ‘Excellent! I love ballroom dancing. I had lessons a few years ago – it was so much fun.’
A thought occurred to Gina, one that might solve a number of problems in one easy hit. ‘Why don’t you come with us?’ she said. ‘Ben has this crackpot idea that we’re going to actually take part in the class – if you come, you can dance with him.’
And save me from making a fool of myself, she added silently. In more ways than one.
Carrie pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘I don’t mind tagging along. But are you sure I won’t be in the way?’
‘Trust me, the more the merrier,’ Gina said firmly. ‘There’s safety in numbers.’
*
Gina waited until Davey had gone for lunch to pump Ben for more information.
‘He seems nice,’ she said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and watching Ben layer more gilt onto a tired-looking curl. ‘Have you known him a long time?’
‘Davey? About four years, I think. He’s reliable and very good – one of the best, in fact.’ He glanced over at her. ‘Why?’
‘No reason,’ she said easily. ‘I had the impression you always worked alone so I was curious when I realised it wasn’t actually the case, that’s all.’
Dipping his brush into the paint once more, Ben continued to paint. ‘I renovated the station building all by myself but that’s because no one else was daft enough to do it without getting paid. Usually, I’m more of a team-player.’
Gina thought of the immaculately-restored Polwhipple station building, which Ben had inherited as an empty and derelict shell from his train-driver father. He’d worked on it single-handedly for years in his spare time, turning back the clock room by room until it became a perfect snapshot of a bygone age. And thanks to the joint funding application Ben and Gina had put together, now there was money to restore the long-closed train track from Boscarne Junction and work had begun to clear away years of plant growth and neglect. By the summer, there would be a heritage steam line running from Bodmin Parkway to Polwhipple and Ben’s station would get the admiration it deserved.
She cleared her throat, wondering how to introduce the subject of Davey’s love life. ‘He looks a bit younger than you. How old is he?’
‘I’m not sure I know, to be honest. Late twenties, I think.’
Carrie was thirty, Gina thought, mentally ticking age compatibility off her list. Not that an age gap mattered that much these days. ‘And no kids, right?’
This time, Ben lowered his brush and stared at her. ‘Not as far as I know. And I assume he’s got all his own teeth and no criminal convictions, before you ask. What’s going on?’
Gina felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘Nothing.’
‘Right, I forgot,’ Ben said, his lips quirking in amusement. ‘You’re just curious.’
‘If you must know, I’m asking for a friend,’ she replied, lifting her chin. ‘It’s not against the law, is it?’
Ben smiled and continued with his work. ‘No, it’s not.’
There was a small silence, during which Gina worried that she’d said too much. It wasn’t that much of a leap for him to work out who she was asking for.
‘I could invite Davey along tonight,’ Ben went on. ‘If you want to interrogate him in person.’
‘That won’t be necess—’ Gina began and stopped. What better way for Carrie and Davey to break the ice than by dancing together? ‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Do you think he’ll be free?’
‘No idea,’ he replied. ‘I’ll ask him when he gets back. How long has Carrie been interested, anyway?’
Gina groaned. Clearly she hadn’t been as subtle as she’d thought, or maybe Ben just knew her too well. ‘She’d be mortified if she knew you know. Don’t tell her I told you.’
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Ben said, smiling. ‘Do you really want me to invite Davey?’
She decided to come clean. ‘Well, Carrie has already said she’d like to come along. If you invite Davey then they might actually talk to each other.’
‘And then, at the wedding, we can remind everyone of how we brought them together,’ Ben went on solemnly. ‘Although I can’t give everyone a lift – there’s not enough room in my van.’
‘I suppose it’s better if they come on their own, anyway,’ Gina said. ‘Just in case they don’t get on and want to bail out early.’
‘First rule of date club: always have an escape plan,’ Ben agreed dryly. ‘Okay, let me find out what Davey is up to this evening. I’m sure I can persuade him to join us.’
Gina grinned at him: she felt like Cher from Clueless. ‘This match-making business is fun, isn’t it? Have you got any more single friends?’
He threw her an amused glance. ‘A few. Maybe you could organ
ise a singles’ night once the Palace is open again.’
Gina considered the idea; it wasn’t half bad. ‘You know, I might just do that,’ she said. ‘Who knows – we might even find a date for Gorran.’
‘Steady on now,’ Ben advised her, grinning. ‘Let’s take things one miracle at a time.’
Chapter Five
The journey to Padstow took much longer than Gina expected. The roads around the tiny village of Porthcothan were especially clogged, much more than usual for May. As well as blocking the roads, many cars seemed to have been abandoned on grass verges or parked haphazardly on the street and it was baffling.
‘What’s going on?’ Gina asked, peering into the empty vehicles as they passed them. Despite the number of cars, there didn’t seem to be many people around. ‘Why is it so busy?’
Ben nodded towards the road that led to the bay. ‘Haven’t you heard? They’re shooting the latest series of Smugglers’ Inn down there. I suppose these cars belong to the die-hard fans, wanting to get a glimpse of the stars.’
‘Of course,’ Gina breathed, picturing the show’s deliciously dark-haired star, Nick Borrowdale. ‘I didn’t realise it was filmed around here.’
‘They move between locations quite a bit – you can usually tell where they are from the contingent of adoring women swooning in the streets,’ Ben said with a wry look. ‘But the film crew make the scenery look amazing so I can’t complain. I read that loads more people are visiting Cornwall because of the show.’
Gina was sure he was right; Smugglers’ Inn was required Sunday night viewing for most of her friends. ‘I wonder if there’s any way we could get someone from the cast on board with the Palace grand re-opening – you know, cut the ribbon or something.’
‘You could ask,’ Ben replied, concentrating on squeezing his van between parked cars on an already narrow lane. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’
Nick Borrowdale, the brooding star of the show, would probably say no, Gina thought, but imagine if he said yes. People would flock from far and wide to catch a glimpse of him, especially if he agreed to say a few words. But she had no idea how to even contact him, much less convince him to open a cinema in a little seaside town he’d almost certainly never heard of. And then a memory stirred, of a party Gina had attended back in London where she’d met the PR girl who handled all Nick Borrowdale’s public appearances…what had been her name now?
Dirty Dancing at the Picture House By The Sea Page 4
