“So I guess you want to think about it,” said Tim, searching Kate’s pale face for a clue as to how she was feeling.
A frail old lady shuffled out onto the patio with her zimmer frame, closely followed by Didi.
“Ooh, Didi look – isn’t that that famous actor chappy?” she said.
“I see no one Alice, you’re hallucinating again,” said Didi, guiding her back inside.
“I should be getting back to Sarah,” said Kate, standing up. Her head was spinning. Tim stood up too and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Can I call you?”
“I’ll be back on set tomorrow.” Kate paused and tried to order her thoughts. “It was nice of you to come, and you’ve done a lovely thing with Jackie.” She gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Kate turned away and set off back to the hospital in a daze.
As Kate wandered up to the main entrance, her muddled thoughts were shattered by a hiss of a voice, like water hitting hot oil.
“Bleedin’ ’ell, what appened to you?” Irene chortled and sucked long and hard on a crumpled cigarette. She threw the butt down and ground it into the concrete with her studded plastic sandal.
“Your son happened,” said Kate, staring Irene straight in the face, feeling brave.
“He’s turned up, he ain’t dead but he’s been roughed up a bit. Police won’t tell me nuffin and he ain’t talkin’ ’cause they’re hanging round like a bad smell all the time.” Irene did look thrilled at Shaun’s return.
“He attacked Sarah and he attacked me, because he was after the drugs he had hidden in Amy’s toy clown.” Kate knew it was blunt, but Irene didn’t seem the sort for flowery sentences.
“He’s been stitched up then, ain’t he?”
“No Irene, he’s done this all himself. He could have killed one of us last night, if I hadn’t…”
“Did you hit my Shauny?” The screech had returned to Irene’s voice.
“Yes, I did. He had already hit me once. I was lying on the floor and he was about to hit me again so, yes, I hit him!” Kate’s voice was getting louder. She wasn’t sure where her confidence was coming from. Irene looked crestfallen; she looked again at Kate’s face and her arm.
“My Shauny?” she flinched as she said it.
“Yes, your Shauny. I’m sorry, Irene.”
Sarah didn’t look overjoyed to see Irene coming into the ward, but Kate was doing her best to gesture a thumbs-up sign behind her.
“The grim reaper’s mother has come to visit, oh deep joy,” muttered Sarah to Andy, who brought over a couple of chairs for Irene and Kate. “Hello, Irene, what a delight,” said Sarah. Irene waved Andy and the chair away.
“I ain’t stoppin’.”
“Now, there’s a shame,” said Sarah, and Kate shot her a look.
“I saw your posh mate artside and she told me what ’appened. I’m sure he didn’t mean it but, anyways… he should never have hit ya. Thas not right and well… I’m sorry I said you killed him.”
“And told the police I’d buried him under the patio,” added Sarah.
“Yeah, that n’all.” Irene looked contrite. “Can I still see our Amy sometimes?”
“We’ll see,” said Sarah but, as she saw the shock and sadness on Irene’s face, she added, “I’m sure we can sort something out, Irene.”
Tim sat on the grass next to Jackie, with his face in his hands. Jackie had listened carefully to what Tim had told him.
“So, what did she say, when you told her that you loved her?” Jackie asked. Tim looked at him and laughed; he shook his head. Jackie kept his gaze on Tim, waiting for an answer. Tim’s expression changed from flippant to deadly serious, as realisation dawned.
“I didn’t actually say those words as such,” Tim said slowly.
“Tim!” Jackie shook his head. “You have to tell the girl that you love them, everybody knows that.” Tim jumped to his feet, kissed Jackie on the forehead and ran up the garden.
“You’re a genius, Jackie! I’ll call you later.”
“I want to be the best man!” shouted Jackie after him, but Tim was already striding through the house, speaking into his mobile.
“Pips, I need you to pull a few strings…”
A number of very bewildered porters were waiting with a stretcher when the helicopter landed on the hospital helipad. The door opened and Tim bounded out, running clear before it quickly took off again.
“Sorry, boys, I’ve got my own emergency,” he said and he ran off towards the main entrance. A quick stop at reception for directions resulted in four autographs, one photograph with the reception staff, and another with a boy who had a broken leg from falling off a skateboard. Tim extricated himself and made a bolt for the stairs. A wrong turn had Tim in the maternity unit, surrounded by emotional woman and crying babies. He had to stay for five photographs and one woman changed her baby’s name on the spot from Orlando to Timothy. Thankfully, a large nurse shooed people away and escorted Tim out of maternity and through to Sarah’s ward. He gave the nurse a peck on the cheek and she blushed furiously.
“You put your arm in there, and I’ll pull it over your head,” said Kate, her voice coming from behind a curtain drawn around a bed.
“Ow, mind my nose with your bloody concrete arm!”
“Stop complaining, you’ve flashed your bum at me a dozen times in that gown. Why you couldn’t put your pants on first, I’ll never know.”
“Thanks for announcing it. These curtains aren’t soundproof, you know! And anyway, Andy has gone to rinse them in the sink.”
“It must be true love,” giggled Kate.
“Knock, knock,” said Tim as he reached the curtain. Both Sarah and Kate froze. Kate mouthed to Sarah It’s Tim and she dramatically mouthed back I know and my arse is hanging out!
“Who’s there?” said Kate, as Sarah quickly wrapped the hospital gown around her bottom half.
“Olive,” said Tim.
“Is he taking the piss?” Sarah said, in hushed tones.
“Olive Who?” obliged Kate, waving her unplastered arm at Sarah, as a fit of giggles came over her. Tim opened the curtain just enough to step inside.
“Olive you too or, more precisely, I love you, Kate Marshall,” said Tim as he took her hands in his and gently ran his thumbs over her knuckles.
“Tim, what’s this about?”
“It’s about me mucking it up this morning and going for a second take. So, please shut up and listen. When I think about you, I smile. When I see you, I want to kiss you. When I touch you, my body sparks and when I’m not with you… it’s utterly shitty. I love you. What I want to know is, do you feel the same?”
Kate could feel her heart beating faster, she wanted to ask more questions, check and check again but this time she didn’t. Kate pulled him towards her and kissed him. It was shorter than she’d planned as Sarah started whooping with delight and dropped her hospital gown, which was a distraction for all of them.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, as he held her in front of him.
“On two conditions.”
“You name them.”
“No secrets and no overblown gestures; we try to be normal. Agreed?” Kate had a tone of seriousness although she was smiling.
“Agreed,” said Tim firmly and he pulled her to him and kissed her again. The sound of the helicopter could just be heard over Sarah’s squeals and a quick flick of the curtain blocked the sight of it hovering outside with a large heart-shaped sign inside saying ‘Timothy Calder loves Kate Marshall’.
Epilogue
Another nurse sneaked a peek through the door. The staff at the private hospital were used to the rich and famous and even royalty but it seemed Kate was of particular intrigue today.
“I could sell tickets,” grinned Sarah, who apart from a neat pink scar on her nose, looked fully recovered. “This coffee is better than the cost-a-lot stuff,” she said, glugging down a cup full, “I'll have another one
of those.” Kate gave her a look.
“What? It's free!” she protested. “If I'd have known, I'd have brought a flask and a bigger bag,” she said squeezing the packet of complimentary biscuits into her already full handbag.
Sarah set off on her coffee mission and Kate picked up a nearby magazine. There on the cover was Tim. He was escaping from the back of a London restaurant and Kate smiled as she remembered the evening well. It was one of a few they had attempted to share together in a public place as they had tried to see as much of each other as possible over the last six weeks. Eventually a very short man with thinning hair and a serious smile appeared and she put down the magazine.
“Hello again, Miss Marshall. X-Rays look fine, let’s take that off and see what we're dealing with shall we?” he said pointing firmly at her cast which was adorned with Amy’s masterpieces and a stickman that Tim had drawn so that she could think of him whenever she looked at it. Soppy git.
Kate lay down on the bed with her arm on a rest. The doctor produced a small but lethal looking tool that was very like a mini circular saw, and she gulped hard.
“Ooh, be careful!” said Sarah, returning from her coffee run and making Kate jump.
“Please,” said the doctor firmly directing Sarah into a chair, “there is nothing to worry about, Miss Marshall won't feel a thing.”
“Oh, it wasn't that. It's just that we've promised the old plaster to my daughter’s hamster to use as a play tunnel,” said Sarah, with a broad smile as she sat down and began fiddling with another empty coffee cup. The Doctor stared at her for a moment.
The plaster removal was quick and painless just as the doctor had promised. When he left the room to get some forms, Kate and Sarah studied the arm. It was pale and the skin was very dry and flaky and it looked a lot weedier than her other arm due to lack of use.
“That’s disgusting,” said Sarah, “this is cool, though.” She held up the cast, “Amy will be chuffed and so will Curry.” Sarah quickly held it at arm’s length. “It reeks by the way!”
“I couldn’t wash properly with it on,” said Kate feeling a little defensive, but she couldn’t deny there was an unpleasant smell coming from her arm, which meant the cast was probably worse.
Sarah bundled it into a supermarket carrier bag, “Oh, well Curry smells too so it’ll be fine.”
“I wonder how long it'll look like this?” Kate twisted her arm about to get a better look at the withered limb.
“Hope it's better by your birthday.”
“Why? What's happening then?” Kate looked instantly concerned.
“I don't know. I assume Tim is whisking you off somewhere exotic. You don't want photos of that shrivelled thing on the front of the newspaper. Even with a beautiful backdrop it'll still look gross.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I bet he's plotting something totally lavish and amazing for you. You really are the luckiest bugger in the world,” said Sarah, oblivious to the small frown making its way fleetingly across Kate’s forehead.
At six thirty on her birthday Kate found herself in the back of Tim’s car, cutting through the countryside with a small rapidly packed case in the boot and her passport in her handbag. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt. Tim had arrived on time and announced that he'd planned a surprise. He looked thrilled with himself and she had had to fight hard to hide her disappointment. It had turned out to be a quiet day with no visitors at all which was most likely because everyone had known she would be going away with Tim. All she had wanted to do was curl up on the sofa with him and a takeaway, like they’d discussed on the phone earlier that week, and maybe a piece of chocolate hedgehog cake that Sarah and Amy usually made for her on her birthday.
Tim put his hand over hers and squeezed gently. She squeezed back and looked into his stunning green eyes that were so famous around the world and that so many women swooned over. It was like living in a film. Here she was, simple ordinary Kate, being whisked away somewhere exotic by the man of her dreams. So why did she feel like something wasn't quite right?
Kate rested her head on Tim’s chest, it was her favourite place to be. Cuddled up with her head nuzzled under his chin, his arm wrapped around her. She drifted off to sleep.
When she opened her eyes she realised the car had stopped and Terry was rummaging about in the boot. Kate looked out of the window, expecting to be at an airport but she wasn't. She sat up quickly and stared out of the car, she turned to Tim who was grinning inanely.
“Is this the surprise?”
Tim nodded and guided her out of the car. They followed Terry across the car park, round the back of the pub, in the back door and up some stairs.
Terry knocked on a door and then stepped back. It opened into a dark room, Tim almost shoved Kate inside and as he did so lights flooded the room. The assembled cast of Kate's life erupted into “Surprise!” as Amy launched herself at Kate closely followed by Sarah. Marcus handed her a glass of champagne and kissed her cheek lightly “Happy Birthday, darling girl,” before whispering to her, “it's all his own doing, you know.”
Didi fussed over her as did Andy and a variety of assorted friends. Amy gave Kate a guided tour of the buffet table including the centrepiece chocolate hedgehog cake and the mini crème brûlée that Amy had her eye on.
Kate turned back to Tim who was stood in his full dinner suit looking gorgeous and rather proud of himself. “Did I have you worried?” he said pulling her into his arms, her champagne glass tilting precariously.
“You might have done,” said Kate, kissing him lightly on the lips.
“This lot are staying at the pub but you and I have Sunset Cottage to ourselves for the night.” And right there at that moment she realised just how much she loved him.
Acknowledgements
You may need to take a deep breath before reading this list as there are quite a few people I need to thank and I guarantee you will be on the list!
Firstly, I must thank the wonderful life coach Lesley Elder, without her this book would never have been finished. She showed me that my perfect life was actually missing something and that was writing. Thank you for the kicks up the bum – always appreciated!
Thanks go to my wonderful group of early readers who agreed to read Sunset Cottage having absolutely no idea what it was about or whether I could write anything more than a shopping list. So many thanks for taking the plunge and for all your valuable insights and feedback – Pat Mahon, Louise Reid, Julie Smith, Zoe Baldwin, Bev Ball, Karen Key, Charlotte Bennett, Caroline Russell, Polly Fishwick and Mick Arnold. Special thanks to my amazing reader and grammar guru Chris Goodwin.
Special thanks to my wonderful tutor, Gill Vickery, for all her encouragement, support and unrelenting enthusiasm for my writing. Thanks too to everyone at my Writing Fiction class for great feedback and many laughs, especially those on the naughty table – you know who you are! More special thanks to Laura Parish and all at www.novelkicks.com for giving me the opportunity to write a regular column and share my writing journey and other witterings!
This book is only in your hands now thanks to the skill, hard work and tenacity of my wonderful editor Charlotte Ledger who immediately became a friend for life when she said she loved my book from the very first chapter! Thanks also to Kim Young and all at HarperImpulse and Harper Collins for making Sunset Cottage a reality. Thanks also to my agent Kate Nash for all her guidance, words of advice and support as I negotiated the totally unfamiliar world of publishing. Thank you to Jane Harwood for the beautiful cover.
Thank you to my technical experts - Rachel Bennette for specific advice and answering relentless questions on scriptwriting and film sets. Louise H for sharing some of her amassed knowledge of Social Services. Jesus De Pablo for correcting my Spanish. The staff of the Thames Foyer at The Savoy Hotel for letting me make a cup of tea last an eternity whilst I took in the unique and beautiful setting.
The kind of people you need on hand when you are engrossed in writing a novel are those that supply wine, cake and laught
er in large quantities and for that I thank the members of my boozy book club.
Without the support of my writing friends from the Romantic Novelists’ Association (RNA) and in particular the Birmingham Chapter I would have lost my marbles long ago. Special thanks to the RNA New Writer’s Scheme for introducing me to so many new friends, a wealth of experience and possibly too much wine. There are too many lovely writers to list but a special call out is needed for Talli Roland and Jane Lovering. A huge thank you to my writing fairy-godmother – Katie Fforde for offering first class advice and for not having me sectioned when I jumped up and down in front of her at the 2013 RNA conference.
Throughout all of this my husband, daughter, parents, family and friends have continued to tease me mercilessly and provide the love and support I needed when I doubted myself. I love you all so very much.
And last but by no means least the wonderful readers that spent their hard earned cash and precious time on my book – I am forever in awe and tremendously grateful. (See I told you, you would get a mention.)
Thank you all.
Bella Osborne
I’ve been jotting down my stories as far back as I can remember. Somehow life took over, I got a sensible job in project management and the writing has remained a passion. Writing your own story really is the best fun ever! But it’s a close run thing along with talking, eating chocolate, drinking fizz and planning holidays!
I live in The Midlands with my lovely husband and our wonderful daughter, who thankfully, both accept me as I am (with my mad morning hair and a penchant for skipping).
http://www.bellaosborne.com/blog
@osborne_bella
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