‘Really?’ Gina felt her own mouth curve into an answering smile. ‘It’s still there?’
He nodded. ‘This bit is.’
‘Over here too,’ Davey said over one shoulder. ‘Looks to be in pretty mint condition. Maybe the plasterboard has done us a favour.’
‘Wonders will never cease,’ Ben said with an incredulous laugh. ‘I think this is the first time I’ve ever been grateful for a shoddy building job.’
Gina’s smile widened into a deep grin. It was exactly what they’d hoped for. ‘Gorran is going to be so pleased,’ she said, removing her own mask. ‘Any idea how long it will be before we can see it all in its original glory?’
The two men exchanged a thoughtful look. ‘Another couple of days at least,’ Ben ventured. ‘Or maybe longer.’
‘And that’s just the start,’ Davey added. ‘Once all the plasterboard is off, we’ll be able to see how those wooden battens have been attached – that could cause us some problems. And then there’s the clean-up operation – the gypsum dust from the plasterboard is always a right pain to shift.’
Ben nodded. ‘True,’ he said, aiming a rueful glance at the debris that covered the floor. ‘And I’ll tell you something else – we’re going to need a bigger skip.’
By the end of the day, Gina ached all over. She wanted nothing more than to lower herself into a hot bath and soak away the hard work of the day, but she and Ben were due to meet Gorran at six o’clock in the Mermaid’s Tail Inn for a catch-up. A glance in the mirror of the newly refurbished ladies’ confirmed her worst suspicions: she looked like Miss Havisham. Shaking plaster dust from her long hair, Gina splashed water over her arms and face and pulled on a clean T-shirt. Gorran wasn’t exactly a snappy dresser and Ben would be even dustier than Gina; she doubted either of them would judge her, and the customers of the pub would barely bat an eyelid either. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d seen her like this and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
‘Ready?’ Ben called, as Gina made her way back into the picture house foyer.
‘I suppose,’ she replied. ‘I think I ate some plaster dust, though.’
He smiled. ‘I can imagine. But you can’t restore an Art Deco cinema without sanding some walls so . . .’
Gina sighed. When she’d come up with the idea to apply for funding to return the Palace to its glory days, she hadn’t envisaged being quite so hands-on with the actual building work. It was different for Ben – he liked nothing better than getting his hands dirty in a job that seemed too big to handle. Even so, she could totally see why he had the bug for restoring old buildings; there was still a long way to go but underneath the mess, the Palace was slowly starting to take shape. And Gina had a feeling that it was going to shine even more brightly than it had in its heyday.
‘Come on,’ she said to Ben. ‘I don’t know about you, but I need gin.’
The evening was warm and the sun sparkled on the tide as it ebbed and flowed against the golden sand of the beach. An auburn-haired mermaid gazed benevolently down from the pub sign as Gina and Ben cut through the seafront beer garden and ducked inside. The bar was fairly quiet – hardly surprising this early on a Thursday evening – but one or two regulars nodded in greeting as Gina and Ben entered the low-ceilinged snug. The owner, Jory, had two glasses in his hands long before they reached the dark wood bar. ‘The usual?’
Gina gave Ben a wry look; clearly they were spending too much time in the pub if Jory knew exactly what they would order. She nodded at Jory, saying, ‘Bombay Sapphire and tonic for me, please.’
‘And I’ll have a pint of Spotty Dog, please,’ Ben said, his eyes resting on the cider pump. ‘Is Gorran here yet?’
‘Over by the window,’ Jory said, as he turned to the bottles that lined the mirrored wall behind him. ‘Got a face like a teasy tacker an’ all. Best go easy there, I reckon.’
For the most part, Gina could work out Jory’s frequent use of Cornish slang but this time she was defeated. Teasy meant bad-tempered, she knew, but tacker? A horse, maybe? She peered across to the window, where Gorran was staring morosely down at a half-empty pint glass; he certainly seemed long-faced.
‘He means a grumpy toddler,’ Ben whispered, seeing Gina studying the cinema owner. ‘Which isn’t like Gorran at all.’
He was right, Gina thought. Gorran was disorganised and flighty, and often drove her mad with his teetering piles of paperwork and his unfounded optimism that the cinema-goers of Polwhipple would grow to love obscure foreign language films in time, but he was generally affable and never moody. Something must have happened.
‘All right, Gorran?’ Ben said, as they approached the table.
The older man looked up, blinking owlishly, and Gina noticed that above the crumpled collar of his checked shirt, his shock of white hair was even wilder than usual. ‘Oh,’ he said in a subdued tone. ‘Hello. How are things?’
‘Not at all bad,’ Gina said, as she and Ben sat down. ‘In fact, we’ve got some great news – the original gilt-work is still in place behind the plasterboard in the theatre.’
She waited for Gorran’s enthusiastic response but instead of a warm smile, he simply gave a preoccupied nod. ‘That is good news.’
Ben leaned forwards. ‘And there doesn’t seem to be much damage so far – nothing that a touch up here and there won’t fix.’
Again, Gorran nodded. ‘Good, good.’
Gina felt a small frown crease her forehead as her own enthusiasm began to fade. ‘You don’t seem very excited. Is everything okay?’
The older man stared into his glass. ‘No, it’s all fine,’ he mumbled. ‘It’s just . . . I mean, there’s nothing for you to worry about, anyway.’
‘Gorran?’ Ben said. ‘What’s going on?’
For a moment, Gina thought he would ignore the question. But then he sighed and met their curious gazes. ‘I’ve got a few financial issues, that’s all. The Palace has been closed for a good few weeks now and that means it’s not bringing in much money, apart from the rent Ferdie pays for Ferrelli’s. But I’ve still got the same overheads – I still have to pay Tash and Bruno, even though they’re not working, and the concession income isn’t enough.’ He paused. ‘Like I said, nothing for you to worry about. I’m sure something will turn up.’
Gina and Ben exchanged alarmed glances. This was the first time Gorran had hinted that there could be a problem behind the scenes at the picture house.
‘Well, we’re still quite a way from completion of the project,’ Ben said. ‘But I know Gina has been thinking about some kind of grand re-opening event – would that help with cash-flow?’
‘Maybe, if we show a film and ask people to buy tickets instead of inviting them as guests,’ Gorran said, his tone subdued. ‘It’s a shame we can’t squeeze in a screening around the refurbishment but I know that would be difficult.’
It wasn’t just difficult, Gina thought: it was impossible. Quite apart from the dust and the lack of seating, the place was practically a building site; she could think of around twenty health and safety concerns without really trying. There was no way they could let people inside as things stood . . .
‘Maybe they don’t have to come inside,’ she said out loud, causing both men to eye her quizzically. ‘What if we held a screening elsewhere? An outdoor screening, somewhere big enough to hold a decent-sized crowd, like the rooftop cinema clubs they have in London?’
‘I can’t think of any rooftops big enough round here but it’s not unheard of for National Trust properties to host screenings in their grounds,’ Ben pointed out. ‘Lanhydrock House might be up for it, if we asked.’
Gina shook her head. ‘But they’ve got overheads and want to keep most of the takings. What we really need is somewhere big, close to Polwhipple, that won’t cost a fortune.’
The three of them lapsed into thoughtful silence. Finding an appealing venue was key, Gina thought, but the film choice mattered too; an outdoor screening suggested summer and warmth and fun. It woul
d be no good showing something like Dr Zhivago.
‘What about the beach?’ Ben suggested, glancing through the window at the sun-drenched sands beyond. ‘The tide only comes halfway up, it’s close enough to run power cables from the Palace, and there’s plenty of room for people to sit.’
Gina stared at the old-fashioned glass panels, her mind whirring. It wasn’t a bad idea. ‘You know, that could just about work. We could use deckchairs for seats and bring in some pop-up food stalls to give it a real party vibe.’
They glanced at Gorran, who seemed to have perked up a little. ‘Maybe we could show a watery classic, like The Poseidon Adventure? Or how about Jaws?’
‘I’m not sure a disaster movie is quite the right way to go,’ Gina said doubtfully. ‘We want people to dress up and have fun, remember, not relive their worst nightmares.’
She gazed around the bar, searching for inspiration, and her eyes came to rest on a poster advertising salsa lessons in nearby Mawgan Porth. How long had it been since she’d been dancing? She’d suggested taking some classes once, back when she and her boyfriend, Max, had just started dating, but they’d never managed to find the time. A dance movie might work, she thought; people would love to kick off their shoes and let their hair down on the sand. But what film perfectly encapsulated dance-along summer fun?
‘Dirty Dancing!’ she burst out, remembering the song she’d heard in the cinema earlier. ‘It’s definitely a classic – everyone loves Johnny and Baby’s story and it’s perfect for an outdoor screening. We could even have some dancing lessons on the beach beforehand.’
Ben nodded, frowning at Gina. ‘Didn’t we watch that together once at the Palace? Or was it Grease?’
She snapped her fingers. ‘You’re right, we did!’ A sudden memory of being embarrassed during the romantic scenes almost made Gina blush. ‘And neither of us understood what was wrong with Penny – we thought she had food poisoning.’
‘It took me years to work out the truth,’ Ben admitted, laughing. His eyes were warm as they rested on Gina’s face. ‘I think it’s the perfect film to show. What do you say, Gorran?’
‘Gina’s the expert at this kind of thing,’ the cinema owner said, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘If she thinks people will want to come and see Dirty Dancing then who am I to argue? As long as you don’t expect me to strut my stuff.’
Gina grinned. ‘Strutting will be entirely optional,’ she said. ‘But who knows – the right partner might bring out your inner Johnny Castle.’
Gorran shook his head. ‘Trust me, it’s better if I sit the dancing out.’ He hesitated, looking embarrassed. ‘So, I hate to ask, but how soon do you think you can pull all this together?’
It was a good question, Gina mused, tapping the table thoughtfully. They’d need to approach the town council for permission to hold a commercial event and to use the beach, which probably meant risk assessments and a lot of paperwork, and then they’d have to make enquiries about the technicalities of screening a film outdoors. It wasn’t going to be anywhere near as simple as showing a film at the Palace and it was undoubtedly going to cost more but, if they got everything right, Gina was confident they’d be able to attract a bigger audience. She cast a reluctant look at Ben. ‘Have you finished things with Rose yet?’
Was it Gina’s imagination, or did Ben wince?
‘We – uh – still haven’t had that conversation yet,’ he said. ‘Every time I’ve tried to cool things off, she somehow manages to change the subject.’
That sounded right, Gina thought; manipulative Rose made Machiavelli look like an amateur. But she was also a useful ally, even though it felt a lot like going over to the dark side, and desperate times required desperate measures. ‘Maybe you should wait a few more days,’ Gina said, hating herself for suggesting it.
Resigned understanding flashed over Ben’s face. ‘Oh. Yes, I suppose I could manage another date.’
Gina felt her stomach writhe as she pictured him sitting in a restaurant with Rose, making small talk and forcing himself to laugh at her sneering jokes about anyone who wasn’t rich and influential. ‘I wish it didn’t work this way but we both know that we need Valeria Arundell on side. And we’ll never get permission for an outdoor screening if you’ve just dumped her daughter.’
She shifted uneasily, aware that what she was suggesting wasn’t very fair. But it helped to remember that Rose was cold and calculating too. Besides, as Gina’s boyfriend, Max, was always saying, business was built on relationships; wining and dining clients encouraged them to put work his way. Was what Ben was doing with Rose really that different? Except . . . Rose was used to getting whatever she wanted, and Gina couldn’t help wondering how much longer she’d be content with small talk and a peck on the cheek at the end of the night. Or had she taken what she wanted already? She and Ben had been a couple before, after all; surely it wouldn’t take much to rekindle the flames . . . It was a thought that made Gina’s stomach churn.
Beside her, Ben puffed out his cheeks. ‘Okay. I’ll mention the screening to Rose – maybe she can have a word with Valeria and find out the best way to approach things.’
Gina pulled her frazzled thoughts together. ‘And the moment everything is sorted, we’ll start selling tickets.’ She gave Gorran what she hoped was an encouraging look. ‘I’m sure it will be a smash hit.’
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, his cheeks growing even rosier than normal. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’re doing to help. It’s above and beyond the call of duty.’
‘No problem, Gorran,’ Gina said, and the gratitude in his voice made her certain they were doing the right thing. ‘That’s what friends are for.’
Chapter Two
‘I’ve got good news and bad news.’
Ben’s voice crackled with static as Gina pressed the phone to her ear on Sunday morning, twisting slightly to shelter it from the wind cutting down from the cliffs of Mawgan Porth beach. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Give me the good stuff first.’
‘Rose says getting permission for the screening should be a formality, as long as Gorran has all the necessary insurance. He’ll need a temporary event licence from the council, too, but apparently they don’t cost much and the application is pretty straightforward.’
‘Excellent,’ Gina said cautiously, watching the clouds part in the breeze and trying not to wonder what Ben and Rose had been doing when they’d had the conversation. She cleared her throat. ‘What’s the bad news?’
There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. ‘Rose wants to get involved with the screening.’
Gina’s heart plummeted. ‘Why?’ she said, her tone flat. ‘What does it have to do with her?’
‘Nothing, really. She says she’s curious about what you do.’
Recalling the thinly veiled insults Rose had let fly the last few times they’d met, Gina let out an unladylike snort. ‘I bet she didn’t phrase it quite like that.’
‘She did, actually,’ Ben replied in a mild voice. ‘It made me wonder if she’s thinking of turning her hand to events planning. There’ll be a gap in the market once you go back to London, after all – maybe she wants to pick your brains.’
Gina narrowed her eyes; Rose had shown scant regard for her professional abilities before. Ben was much more generous than she was. ‘And if I say no?’
‘I’m not sure that’s an option, to be honest,’ Ben said carefully. ‘I got the impression that it was a bit non-negotiable, in exchange for a straightforward licence application.’
I wonder what else is non-negotiable? Gina thought, feeling irritated at the thought of first Ben and now Gorran and herself dancing to Rose’s tune. Would she be able to swallow her dislike long enough to work with her? She supposed she’d have to, for the sake of Gorran and the picture house, but it wasn’t going to be easy. She’d need a crash course in holding her tongue, for a start . . .
‘Fine,’ she said, forcing herself to sound as though the idea didn
’t bother her in the slightest. ‘Although she’ll need to understand a few ground rules. Gorran is in charge – he has the final say.’
‘I’ll make sure she knows,’ Ben promised. ‘Listen, I was thinking about your dance lessons on the beach idea, before the screening. Do you want to go and check out some classes together, before you book anyone?’
Gina blinked. ‘You want to go dancing?’
He laughed. ‘Why not? I’m no Patrick Swayze, but it sounds like fun.’
It would be a lot of fun, Gina thought, gnawing at her lip. And that was half the problem; dancing with Ben was unlikely to help her remember they were strictly friends. ‘I don’t think Rose will like that.’
‘We won’t tell her,’ he answered cheerfully.
‘This is Polwhipple,’ she reminded him. ‘The Arundells have spies everywhere.’
‘Then we’ll wait until after the licence application has been approved and they can’t cause any problems.’
Gina shook her head; Ben clearly had no idea of the real reason she was reluctant to go dancing with him. ‘If she wasn’t so awful, I might feel sorry for Rose.’
‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘She’s like a cat stalking a mouse – the moment she thinks she’s caught me, she’ll lose interest and move on.’
‘Then maybe it’s you I feel sorry for,’ she countered, nettled in spite of herself.
‘No need for that either. I can look after myself.’ There was a pause. ‘Just make sure Gorran puts the licence application in first thing tomorrow.’
Gina felt herself soften. ‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Thanks, Ben.’
She rang off and spent a few pensive moments watching the waves crash against the sandy shore. On one hand, what they were doing made her uncomfortable for lots of reasons; this was the second time Ben had used Rose and her connections to the town council, and the stakes got higher each time. But on the other hand, the council shouldn’t be controlled by the whims of the Arundell family – if it was fair and impartial, then Ben dating Rose wouldn’t make the slightest difference to the outcome of their application.
The Picture House by the Sea Page 18
