She messaged Ben, who promised to come over in an hour and was as good as his word.
‘So this is the irresistible view you mentioned,’ he said, gazing out across the clifftops. ‘I see what you mean.’
Gina smiled. ‘I know. I could get used to it, actually.’
‘That’s the thing about Cornwall; it gets under your skin,’ he said, with a meaningful nod. ‘And then when you go away, it calls to you.’
‘Is that why you came back?’ Gina asked.
‘Partly,’ Ben said. He looked out at the sea once again, his shoulders hunched. ‘That and getting my heart broken in Australia. I just wanted to go home after that.’
‘Oh,’ Gina said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he replied, sending her a swift smile. ‘It was a long time ago now and everything worked out for the best. I’m where I ought to be.’
There was a lot she didn’t know about Ben, Gina realised; how he’d come to his career as a builder instead of pursuing his dream of being a professional surfer, why he was apparently single – although between his job and his surfing and his hobby, she couldn’t see that he had much time for a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, come to that, but then she remembered the way he’d looked at her when they’d stood in his bedroom and she knew he wasn’t gay.
‘Did you mention something about ice-cream?’ he said, cutting into her thoughts. He held out one hand and she saw it contained a DVD of Brief Encounter. ‘I wondered whether you fancied watching this?’
Gina grinned in delight. ‘Perfect. I’ll open some wine.’
They settled on the sofa as the opening credits rolled and Laura Jesson began to tell her story. But moments later, Gina was staring open-mouthed at the screen. ‘Oh my God, that’s us,’ she said, pointing at the image of Trevor Howard helping Celia Johnson to get some grit out of her eye as steam billowed around them. ‘I can’t believe it!’
Ben shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think of it either. I must have seen this film five or six times over the years.’
‘I’ve seen it too,’ Gina said. ‘It’s one of my mum’s favourites – we used to watch a lot of black-and-white movies together before I moved back to England. I even remember thinking that you rescuing me was like something out of a film. How funny!’
‘I hardly rescued you,’ he said, adopting a mock-injured expression. ‘In fact, I think you insisted you didn’t need my help.’
She batted him on the arm. ‘I thought you were very kind. Now shhh – things are about to get interesting.’
They only talked once more before the end, to discuss some of the things Ben might do to make the derelict bar at the Palace look like the one on the screen. Eventually, the film rolled on to its bittersweet conclusion and Gina’s heart ached for poor Laura as she watched her lover walk out of her life for ever.
‘Do you think she did the right thing in staying with Fred?’ Gina asked, gazing at the final credits.
Ben pursed his lips. ‘I don’t know. Fred didn’t seem like a terrible husband and I assume she loved him at some point. I like to think they made a go of things.’
Gina took a thoughtful swig of her wine. ‘So you disapprove of her affair?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Ben said mildly. ‘You asked me if I thought she should have stayed with Fred and I answered. You didn’t ask me whether she should have followed her heart – the answer to that question would have been yes.’
His eyes rested on hers for a fraction of a second too long, before flicking towards the kitchen. ‘Anyway, I hate to suggest that you’re a bad hostess, but I still haven’t had the ice-cream I was promised. Unless you lured me here under false pretences?’
‘Oh!’ Gina squeaked, jumping to her feet. She crossed the open-plan living room to the kitchen area and reached into the freezer. ‘This is the new flavour I’m thinking of suggesting but I need another opinion first.’
She scooped some of the golden-brown ice-cream from the tub and placed it in a bowl, which she handed to Ben. ‘What do you think?’
He took a mouthful and his expression changed almost immediately. ‘It tastes amazing! What is it?’
‘Brown bread ice-cream,’ she said. ‘It’s just a basic vanilla ice-cream with caramelised bread crumbs drizzled through it. Do you think it suits the theme?’
Ben took another mouthful. ‘Are you kidding? It’s perfect. Have you given any to your grandfather yet?’
‘No, I thought—’
Gina’s phone sprang into life on the kitchen counter, making her jump. She glanced at the screen and her heart jolted: Max. They’d been playing phone tennis for a few days, missing each other’s calls. ‘I should take this,’ she said to Ben apologetically. ‘Sorry.’
‘No problem,’ he said, checking the time. ‘I should probably head home, anyway. No, don’t come to the door – I’ll see myself out.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, her hand hovering over the answer button. ‘And thanks for coming over. I really appreciate it.’
His eyes crinkled as he headed for the door. ‘No problem. You had me at ice-cream, to be honest.’
Gina hit answer, just as Ben turned back. ‘Oh, and we should probably talk about how you want the bar to look at some point, but that can wait. See you soon, Gina.’
Smiling and waving, she closed the door after him and held her phone up to her ear. ‘Hi Max, sorry about that.’
‘Who was that?’ he asked curiously.
‘Just Ben,’ Gina replied. ‘He’s the one I told you about – the one I used to hang about with when I was younger.’
There was a brief silence on the phone. ‘So what were you doing together at ten thirty on a Sunday evening? Reminiscing about old times?’
Gina frowned. It wasn’t like Max to be like this. ‘No, we were working through some things for the event at the Palace,’ she said, crossing her fingers even though it wasn’t exactly a lie. ‘Ben is a builder and he’s going to make the bar look like the one from the film.’
There was another brief pause and then Max sighed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like an idiot. You don’t owe me any explanations.’
He sounded tired again and Gina wondered whether he’d spent the weekend working. ‘Don’t worry about it. You’ve got every right to be curious. How are you, anyway?’
It didn’t take long for Gina to work out that his tiredness was due to another late night, this time due to a stag do. She smiled as he described the antics the best man had got up to with the poor groom. ‘It sounds like you need a rest,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘How about a weekend in Cornwall?’
‘When?’ he said. ‘Just tell me the date and I’ll be there.’
She frowned. ‘I sent you the date, Max – it’s next weekend. We talked about it last Sunday and you said you’d come, remember?’
‘Did I?’ His voice was suddenly muffled, as though he was running his hand over his face. ‘Bloody hell, I can hardly remember what I did yesterday, never mind a week ago.’
There was a silence, during which Gina imagined him checking through his calendar. Then he let out an irritated huff. ‘I can’t make next weekend. Can you rearrange?’
Gina almost dropped her phone. ‘No, I can’t! Flyers have gone out and it’s been in the local paper – people have bought tickets. I can’t just change the date because my boyfriend has double-booked himself.’
‘Then I can’t come,’ Max said flatly. ‘Brilliant.’
‘What’s got into you?’ Gina said, frowning even more deeply. ‘You’ve known this event was happening for a couple of weeks. Can’t you cancel the other thing you have in your diary?’
‘I don’t think I can. Sorry,’ he said and this time his tone was apologetic. ‘I suppose I’ll just have to come down another weekend. When works for you?’
Trying not to feel second-best, Gina flicked through her diary and gave him a couple of possible dates. Once she’d finished, the two of them fell silent.
�
�I really miss you,’ Gina ventured, after a while.
‘Yeah, me too,’ Max said wearily. ‘Look, Gina, why don’t I call you back? I’m not in the best shape today.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Look after yourself. I love you.’
‘Yeah, speak soon. Bye.’
He hung up, leaving Gina staring at her mobile, wondering what she’d done wrong. He’s just tired, she reminded herself. And it was a shame he wouldn’t be around for the Brief Encounter evening but he hated the cinema anyway; she’d be too busy to worry about whether he was having fun or be able to spend much time with him. She closed her eyes briefly and lowered her phone to the kitchen counter. Maybe it was for the best that he couldn’t make it, she decided, scooping the last of the half-melted ice-cream into her mouth.
The problem with having no precedent of customers buying tickets online or even much in advance was that Gina had no real idea how many people might be coming to the Brief Encounter screening. She’d set up a Facebook page for the Palace and linked it to the event she’d created, both of which had plenty of likes but none seemed to be translating into ticket sales; when she’d checked in with Bruno, he told her that he had ten pre-orders in his little notebook. With three days to go until the event . . .
‘Have any of those pre-ordered tickets paid already?’ Gina asked, trying to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.
‘Around half of them have,’ Bruno told her. ‘Carrie from the vintage shop has paid and she’s bringing a few mates. The others assure me they’ll pay on the door.’
‘It’s not enough,’ Gina said, sighing. ‘Unless more people book, it won’t be worth running.’
Bruno raised his shoulders. ‘What can I say? They’re used to just turning up. Or not, as the case may be.’
Gina glanced at the half-finished bar repairs – Ben was charging them very little to fix the uneven floor behind the counter and to turn it into the café they’d seen in Brief Encounter. ‘I expect some more of that gorgeous ice-cream and a tub of popcorn, though,’ he told Gina.
She’d just have to hope ticket sales picked up in the run up to Friday night or she was going to feel very embarrassed and Gorran was going to be considerably out of pocket.
She didn’t dare tell Nonno. She’d stayed as vague as she could when answering his questions – he hadn’t even tasted her Brown Bread flavour. And by the time Thursday morning rolled around, she couldn’t bear it any longer and asked her grandfather to meet her in the dairy.
‘Close your eyes,’ she instructed him, placing a bowl of ice-cream on the work surface in front of him. She put a spoon into his hand. ‘Now you can look.’
He stared at the golden ice-cream for a moment, then dipped his spoon in. Moments passed as he ate, closing his eyes and taking his time over each mouthful. When the bowl was empty, he turned to Gina. ‘Very nice. What’s that crunchy ingredient? It wasn’t nuts, I know that, or praline.’
‘Brown bread,’ Gina said and she held her breath. ‘So is it a yes? Does it get the Ferrelli’s seal of approval for Friday?’
Nonno scraped his spoon around the edge of the bowl. ‘Of course. I think it is the perfect choice.’
Gina felt her heart swell with a mixture of happiness and relief. ‘Thanks, Nonno.’
‘So it should,’ he said, firing a fierce look her way. ‘I knew gelato was in your blood, Gina, just like your mother. You’re a true Ferrelli – I’m proud of you.’
He looked so sad when he mentioned her mother that Gina walked over to wrap him in a hug. She knew her mother was saddened by the rift between them too – in the past, she’d often asked the kind of indirect questions that made Gina suspect she wanted to know how Ferdie was doing. It gave her hope that one day they might resolve their differences; Ferdie had mellowed as he’d grown older and years of living in another country had softened the hurt Gina’s mother had felt when Ferdie had accused her of neglecting a young Gina in favour of her career. The trouble was that they were both stubborn and hot-tempered, Gina thought as she hugged her grandfather. The trouble was that they were too alike.
She stepped back with a smile. ‘That means a lot, Nonno. I’m proud to be a Ferrelli too.’
Chapter Nine
The lights that spelled out ‘The Palace’ had finally had their missing bulbs replaced. Gina stood outside the picture house at just after seven o’clock, admiring the light that spilled from the building. It looked amazing, inside and out. Gorran had finally managed to rustle up some genuine film posters, which were on display in the casings outside. Manda was dressed as a 1940s usherette as she served behind the counter of Ferrelli’s, and Bruno seemed to have found an old hotel bellboy’s outfit that was perfect for his role at the box office. The bar had been restocked and transformed into an astonishing replica of the station café from Brief Encounter and their bartender was standing by to serve elegant Steaming Passion cocktails, while a 1930s playlist warbled away in the background. Even Gorran had made an effort and had dressed up in an almost uncrumpled suit and a trilby. Thanks to Carrie’s genius, Gina had modelled her outfit on Laura Jesson, with a jaunty baker boy hat and a fake fur stole, although she couldn’t resist a splash of red lipstick, which Laura would never have dared to wear. All they needed now were the guests.
Ticket sales had picked up throughout Thursday and Friday so that they now had a respectable number and the cinema wouldn’t feel embarrassingly empty. Ben had appeared with a roll of old train tickets from Polwhipple station and Gina had instructed to give one to each guest as they arrived, so that they could be clipped by Gorran as people went in to take their seats.
Gina had laughed when she’d seen Ben’s costume; he’d slicked his hair back underneath his hat and was obviously Alec Harvey to her Laura.
‘You look like you should be on the screen,’ he’d murmured as she’d greeted him. ‘Let me know if you get any more grit in your eye.’
By seven thirty, the guests had started to arrive and Gina’s stomach was in knots. What if something went wrong?
‘Relax,’ Ben said, when he caught sight of her tense expression. ‘We’ve done all the hard work – this is the fun part.’
He was right, Gina knew, but that didn’t mean her brain would stop racing at a hundred miles an hour; she knew from experience that she wouldn’t start to feel comfortable until she was sure the event was a success, and that wouldn’t happen here until the guests were seated in front of the film. But it also wouldn’t do for her to look visibly anxious, so she took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down. At least I’m staying in character, she thought, picturing fretful Laura.
Time ticked on and more people began to arrive, a real mixture of young, old and everything in between. Many of them had made a real effort with their costumes – no doubt helped with some inspiration from Carrie’s Attic – and Gina thought the foyer looked like the set of a film. Carrie herself looked perfect – her costume was an almost exact replica of Dolly Messiter’s, the gossipy woman who prevented the on-screen lovers from saying a proper goodbye.
‘Wow,’ Gina laughed when she saw her. ‘You look like you’ve just stepped off the screen.’
Carrie adopted a snooty voice. ‘Do you really think so, Laura, darling? How awfully kind of you to say so.’ She glanced around the lobby with obvious satisfaction. ‘This is a roaring success – well done.’
Gina raised her eyebrows. ‘Due in no small part to all the amazing outfits. Did everyone in Polwhipple visit your shop?’
‘Pretty much,’ Carrie admitted. ‘I’ve spent most of the last week glued to eBay, searching out costumes. It’s been fun though and I think Ben makes an especially dashing Dr Harvey, don’t you?’
‘Does he?’ Gina forced herself to sound disinterested. ‘I’ve hardly seen him.’
‘There he is,’ Carrie said, pointing across the foyer. ‘Over there, talking to Rose.’
Gina followed her finger and saw Ben talking to a glamorous blonde-haired woman. As she wa
tched, the woman reached up and stroked Ben’s face. Gina felt her stomach clench. ‘I don’t think I know her. Who is she?’
Carrie groaned. ‘Rose Arundell – local It Girl and practically Cornish royalty. Rumour has it she and Ben had a fling a while ago and she’s been trying to get her claws into him again ever since.’ She cast a sideways look at Gina. ‘Poor Ben – shall we rescue him?’
Ben’s voice echoed in Gina’s head: The bed’s big enough for two . . . ‘You go,’ she told Carrie, with a quick shake of her head. ‘I need to check on the ice-cream sales.’
Trying her best not to look at Ben and Rose, Gina made her way over to Ferrelli’s. There was a long queue, on both sides of the concession, and Gina was very glad she’d asked Heather to work too. Nonno and Nonna couldn’t believe their eyes when they arrived and saw the hall filled with laughing, chattering guests.
‘This is astonishing,’ Nonno said, staring around him with the air of a man who thinks he is dreaming. ‘You’ve worked miracles.’
A woman nearby lifted up her little round tub of ice-cream with an expression of pure bliss. ‘Delicious gelato, Ferdie. You’ve outdone yourself.’
Her companion nodded. ‘It’s about time you introduced some new flavours. I hope we can expect more!’
‘See?’ Elena said, nudging Ferdie in the ribs. ‘Now will you listen?’
Gina was just starting to breathe normally when she saw Tash peering furtively around the door beside the ticket office. ‘Psssst!’ the girl hissed, beckoning Gina closer.
She hurried over, a sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘Is everything okay, Tash?’
The projectionist shook her head. ‘No. I don’t have all the film reels – there’s one missing.’
Gina gaped at her, only partly understanding. ‘So that means . . . ?’
‘I don’t have the whole film,’ Tash said grimly. ‘There’ll be a large, very noticeable hole about 44 minutes in.’
‘Oh no,’ Gina said, feeling the blood drain from her face. ‘Where is it likely to be?’
Brief Encounter at the Picture House by the Sea Page 8
