‘We watched it at school,’ he said, noticing her unspoken query. ‘Don’t ask me what happens, though. I was too busy admiring the architecture.’
The below-stairs rooms were impressive too, Gina decided as they roamed the kitchens and servants’ quarters; she liked imagining the staff working there, gossiping and grumbling about their employers in the grand rooms upstairs.
They rounded off the visit with tea and sandwiches and then set off back to the station. The sun was warm and the scenery even prettier in the glow of the afternoon; Gina wasn’t sure whether it was due to the buzz from the exercise or Ben’s company but she found herself enjoying the walk immensely and she was sorry when they reached Bodmin Parkway. Ben introduced her to some of the volunteers, who gave her a tour of the signal room and ticket office.
‘I’m hoping some of them will want to come and work at Polwhipple station, if we get the funding,’ Ben murmured, as they listened to an enthusiastic white-haired man explain the inner workings of the ticket machine. ‘They’re a good bunch.’
Gina was even sorrier when Ben parked the van outside the door of her apartment. ‘Thanks for today, Ben. I had a really lovely time.’
‘No problem,’ he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled. ‘I did too.’
A small, natural silence grew, during which Gina knew she should simply turn and get out of the van. ‘Gorran is arranging a private viewing of Singin’ in the Rain for me one afternoon at the Palace. Want to share some popcorn and join me?’
His face lit up. ‘That sounds great. Let me know when and I’ll be there.’
‘Are you busy on Saturday?’
Ben pulled a face. ‘I’ve got something on. But Sunday is okay.’
‘I’ll have to ask Gorran,’ Gina said doubtfully. ‘Tash has to be there to run the projector and she might not want to work on her day off.’
‘I’ve got it on DVD,’ Ben said. ‘It was one of Mum’s favourites and I couldn’t face getting rid of it after she died. You could come over to my place instead?’
Gina pictured the living room of Ben’s cosy railway carriage with its wing-backed armchairs facing a small flat-screen TV. ‘Okay,’ she said, nodding. ‘Nonno might even have some samples of his new gelato flavour by then too.’
‘Great – I’ll be around all day,’ Ben said. He reached into the back of the van and pulled out an A4 envelope, which he passed to Gina. ‘Before I forget, here’s my quote for the Palace refurbishment. Want me to email it over as well?’
‘Yes, please,’ Gina said. ‘Thanks, Ben.’
She opened the passenger door and climbed out. ‘See you on Sunday.’
After dropping her rucksack into her apartment, Gina decided to call into Carrie’s Attic. Polwhipple’s beach glimmered in the sunshine and the Singin’ in the Rain posters that had appeared outside the Palace were bright and cheery. Gina paused for a moment to admire them as she passed by on her way to the vintage boutique.
Word was clearly spreading about Carrie’s talent for finding amazing outfits; there were several shoppers browsing the rails when Gina pushed open the grey and pink door.
‘Hi Gina,’ Carrie said, standing beside the changing room, her arms full of clothes. ‘Just give me a minute.’
‘No rush,’ Gina called, more than happy to browse. She’d need Carrie’s expert help to source her Singin’ in the Rain costume but the shop had plenty of other temptations. Pulling out a little black dress that reminded her of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, she held it up against herself and studied her reflection in one of the full-length mirrors on the wall.
‘Now that would look amazing on you,’ Carrie said to her, passing a silky Grace Kelly-style dress through the curtain to the unseen customer in the changing room. She sighed and studied Gina’s slender figure with undisguised envy. ‘But then anything would look good on you.’
Gina laughed. ‘That’s not true. Believe me, there are plenty of fashion disasters hiding in my wardrobe back in London. Just ask Max next time you see him.’
The curtain was pulled abruptly back and a vision of cool blonde elegance stepped out. Gina frowned for a moment, unable to place the twenty-something woman and then it clicked: it was Rose Arundell, the woman who’d draped herself possessively around Ben at the Brief Encounter screening as though he was her personal property.
The look Rose gave Gina was icy. ‘I don’t think you’ve quite got the waist for that dress.’
There was a busy silence, the kind that reminded Gina of a scene from a Spaghetti Western, when a fight was brewing and all the locals scattered. The other customers became deeply engrossed in the clothes on the rails and one of them hurried for the door. Gina took a deep breath and plastered a bland smile on her face. ‘You’re probably right.’
Unsmiling, Rose turned to Carrie. ‘I’ll take this, thanks. And you’ll source the other dress I asked for?’
Carrie gave an awkward smile. ‘Of course. I’ll let you know once I’ve found what you’re looking for.’
Without so much as a glance at Gina, Rose swept back into the changing room. Carrie threw Gina an agonised look and began returning the outfits she was holding to the rails. A few minutes later, Rose was holding out a platinum credit card. Gina kept her gaze firmly on a blue dress that reminded her of Jackie Kennedy until she heard the bell above the door tinkle, suggesting that Rose was gone.
Carrie scurried over. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘Rose can be a bit of a cow but she’s also one of my best customers.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Gina replied, brushing Carrie’s concerns away. ‘I’m a big girl, I can take an insult or two.’
‘She was wrong, anyway,’ Carrie said, pulling the black dress from the rail and pushing it towards Gina. ‘Go and try it on.’
Gina shook her head. ‘Maybe another day. I only came in to talk to you about an outfit for Singin’ in the Rain. I haven’t watched it again yet but time is slipping by – how long do you need to find the Cyd Charisse dress for me?’
Carrie flourished a hand. ‘Already done. But I should warn you, I think Rose is coming to the screening too. She’s asked me to source a Lina Lamont outfit for her.’
Gina frowned. Lina Lamont was the leading lady who thought Gene Kelly was in love with her, a nasty piece of work who tried to take over the whole film studio. ‘Sounds like the perfect role for her,’ she said, and a muffled snigger from one of the women browsing immediately made her feel bad. She pulled a face at Carrie. ‘Sorry, I know she’s a customer. I’m not normally so bitchy.’
‘Trust me, Rose Arundell is cold enough to bring out the bitch in all of us,’ Carrie sympathised. ‘Your dress is due to arrive on Monday – want to pop in and try it on?’
‘Can’t wait,’ Gina said, forcing an image of Rose’s sneering expression from her mind.
She left Carrie to her customers and set off for home. As she rounded the Palace, she caught sight of a red Audi TT zooming across the car park. This time, however, she had a clear view of the driver: Rose Arundell.
Gina gasped. ‘I might have known!’
Manda was watching from the window of Ferrelli’s. ‘Huh,’ she called to Gina. ‘Apparently, things like speed limits don’t apply to Rose. Her mum’s on the town council and she thinks that makes her a VIP around these parts.’
‘I’m pretty sure she drove through a puddle on purpose to give me a soaking the other night,’ Gina said, glaring after the disappearing Audi.
Manda seemed unsurprised. ‘Like I said, she thinks she’s a cut above. I dare say she’s annoyed about you being so friendly with Ben Pascoe – he’s another thing she thinks is hers by right.’
Gina thought back to the frosty look of dislike Rose had given her in the shop. ‘You know, I think you’re right, Manda. That explains a lot.’
‘Shame Ben’s got no time for her,’ Manda said, her tone cheerful. She winked at Gina. ‘He’s got better taste, thank goodness.’
It was
meant as a compliment, Gina knew, but she couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. She changed the subject. ‘Got your costume for Singin’ in the Rain?’ she asked, waving towards the bright posters Gorran had mounted in the rectangular casings on the Palace walls.
Manda gave her a self-satisfied grin. ‘Of course – I’m coming as one of those pink-frocked dancers with the swimming caps on their heads.’ She pointed at the Strawberry Sensation gelato in the display case. ‘I’ll look just like a cornet.’
Gina laughed. ‘Perfect. I wonder what Gorran is wearing.’
‘I know the answer to that too – he’s—’
‘No, don’t tell me,’ Gina said quickly, holding up her hands. ‘I want it to be a surprise.’
‘That’s not always a good thing where Gorran is concerned,’ Manda said doubtfully. ‘But I think this time you’re on safe ground.’
Bidding Manda goodbye, Gina headed over to her grandparents’ house, hoping to borrow the Fiat and go to the Scarlet to pick up the oranges for Ferdie. But when she arrived, Elena told her he already had them.
‘He made me drive him over there first thing this morning,’ she grumbled. ‘I almost missed my yoga class. And he’s been locked away in the dairy ever since, experimenting.’
Gina’s eyes widened. ‘He sounds keen.’
‘Obsessed, more like,’ Elena said. ‘But if it means he opens his mind to new flavours, who are we to complain?’
By the end of Friday, Gina was relieved to see that ticket orders were starting to come in. With only a week to go, she’d started to wonder whether she’d left enough time to generate enough word-of-mouth support for the event but it looked as though her fears had been unfounded. A positive mention in the local paper had helped, and businesses around Polwhipple were supporting the Palace too, placing posters in their windows. The bartender at the Scarlet had emailed Gina his cocktail suggestion – a vodka, orange juice and Galliano concoction he’d called the ‘Moses Supposes’ that was the exact colour of the raincoats from the movie poster – and Gina couldn’t wait to see it, much less drink it.
The quotes had come in from the builders who’d visited the Palace and Gina was both relieved and pleased to see Ben’s was the lowest. She added them to her application pack, hoping that Monday night’s meeting would be just a formality.
She was halfway through a Chinese takeaway and Pretty Woman when her mobile rang. Glancing at the screen, she was amazed to see Max’s name there.
‘Hello,’ she said, trying not to sound as surprised as she felt. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Fine,’ he replied. She heard a jumble of voices in the background and guessed he was in a bar somewhere. ‘I meant to ring earlier but you know how it is. How are you?’
Gina’s forehead wrinkled. She’d never known Max to call her from a bar before. ‘I’m fine. How are you?’
‘Good, thanks. Listen, I was thinking about our conversation the other day and I was just wondering . . . how do you fancy a house-mate for a few days?’
‘That would depend on who it was,’ she said cautiously, unsure where the conversation was going. What if Max was trying to wangle a free holiday for a client in the hope that it might swing a business deal his way?
He laughed. ‘I meant me, Gina. I’ve managed to clear a few days’ mid-week and thought I could head down on Tuesday. What do you think?’
Unbidden, an image of Ben popped into her head, sat opposite her on the train. ‘I think that sounds great,’ she said, pushing the image away. ‘But between Ferrelli’s and the Palace, I might be a bit tied up. I’ve got another eve—’
‘I’m sure I can find something to do while you’re busy,’ Max cut in as the noise level in the background increased. ‘Let’s have dinner one of the nights too – what about the Scarlet? I hear the food there is good.’
‘Sure,’ Gina said, a little taken aback. ‘I’ll book a table for Wednesday evening. But how—’
‘Great,’ he said, almost shouting now. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go. See you soon, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Gina said. ‘And thanks for this, Max. It means a lot.’
‘Yeah, to me too. Bye, Gina.’
The line went dead. Lowering it to the sofa, Gina pressed Play on the remote control and Julia Roberts continued shopping. But Gina was so deep in thought that she barely registered the action on screen. It was very out of character for Max to cancel business meetings, although it wouldn’t be the first time he’d driven down to Polwhipple to see her. Maybe her plea had hit home the last time they’d spoken, or maybe he was just missing her, she thought, taking an absent-minded mouthful of chicken chow mein. She’d ask him when he arrived. Just like she’d ask who had recommended the food at the Scarlet.
Chapter Six
Gina arrived at Polwhipple station just before midday on Sunday, a large bag of popcorn tucked under one arm and a tub of her grandfather’s brand new gelato flavour in her hand. The gates were wide open and parked outside the station itself was a red Audi TT. Gina’s heart sank. What possible reason could Rose Arundell have for being at Ben’s on a Sunday? What possible reason could she have for being at Ben’s any day of the week?
Gina thought about turning back, but then she remembered Manda’s comment about Rose disliking her friendship with Ben and she squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t be intimidated by Rose – Ben was one of her oldest friends, after all, and they had plans.
Pushing open the door of the station, she peered inside the ticket hall. ‘Hello? Ben?’
Silence. Feeling a little like a trespasser, Gina crossed the tiled floor to the door leading out to the platform. There was no sign of anyone. Swallowing her misgivings, she made her way along the platform to the white fence at the end. Beyond it, she could see Ben’s home, the converted railway carriage parked in one of the sidings. Gina’s guts twisted unpleasantly; was Rose inside with Ben?
The question was answered a few seconds later, just as Gina reached the bottom of the steps that led up to the carriage entrance. The door sprang open and Rose stood there, a triumphant smile on her face. Beyond her, Gina could see Ben, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing else.
Rose glanced backwards. ‘Thanks, Ben,’ she said, her voice low and husky. ‘For everything.’
She swept down the steps, pushing past Gina with just enough calculated force to make her stumble. Gina’s cheeks burned with fury and she longed to push the other woman back but she clenched her fists instead and counted to a long and uneven ten.
Ben appeared in the doorway, his jaw shadowed with blond stubble, and saw her for the first time. His eyes widened. ‘Gina! Is that the time? Bloody hell, it’s not—’ He seemed to realise he was semi-naked and stepped back hurriedly. ‘Sorry, can you give me a minute?’
Gina averted her gaze from his six-pack and stared at the gravel beneath her feet. ‘Of course,’ she said in a voice that sounded tight and angry even to her. ‘Take your time.’
Still looking dazed, Ben stepped back and closed the door. Gina heard muffled thumps and curses and she guessed he was either trying to get dressed or tidying up – possibly both. A few minutes later, the door opened again. This time, he was wearing a Rip Curl T-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks to go with his jeans.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said, giving her a look of sheepish embarrassment. ‘Come in.’
Taking a deep breath, Gina climbed the steps. Once inside, she handed him the popcorn and ice-cream. ‘That will need to go in the freezer.’ She looked at him, trying to conceal her bewilderment and hurt at the same time as wondering why she felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach. ‘You’ve got lipstick on your cheek, by the way.’
His hand flew to his cheek and he rubbed hard, smearing the peach mark and making it bigger. ‘Sorry,’ he said again, moving towards the door that led to the galley kitchen.
Gina made an effort to pull herself together. ‘You don’t have to apologise, Ben. What you and Rose do is nothing to do with me.’
&nb
sp; He turned around. ‘But that’s just it – we haven’t been doing anything.’ His fingers touched his cheek. ‘At least, I haven’t done anything. Rose turned up around half an hour ago, ringing the bell on the door of the station. It rings in here too so I raced over there, thinking there was some kind of emergency, and she demanded I let her in so she could talk to me. I brought her over here because it was a bit nippy to hang around in the ticket office.’
She stared at him, trying to decide whether or not she believed him. But why would he lie? He didn’t owe her an explanation. ‘You weren’t dressed? At eleven-thirty in the morning?’
His cheeks turned rosy. ‘I was out with some mates in Newquay last night. It turned into a bit of a late one.’ He threw her a shame-faced look. ‘I’d probably still be in bed now if Rose hadn’t turned up, so in some ways I suppose it’s a good thing she did.’
A whoosh of relief washed over Gina: Ben hadn’t spent the night with Rose, which was clearly what she’d wanted Gina to think. ‘But why was she here in the first place? What was so important?’
He raised his hands in a helpless shrug. ‘That’s the weirdest thing – all she wanted to know was whether I was going to the Singin’ in the Rain screening as Gene Kelly’s character, Don Lockwood. Then she saw the DVD next to the TV and I explained you were coming over to watch it with me. After that, I couldn’t get rid of her, until you arrived.’
He looked so confused that Gina took pity on him. ‘Are you hungover?’
‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘Nothing that a decent breakfast won’t fix.’
Gina smiled. ‘Have you got bacon? And eggs?’
He nodded. ‘In the kitchen. But—’
‘Put the ice-cream away and go and get in the shower,’ she ordered him kindly. ‘I’ll make you a fry up.’
By the time he reappeared, fully clothed and clean-shaven, she’d placed two plates of bacon, eggs and beans at the small dining table at the far end of the living room, along with a mug of steaming hot tea for him and a coffee for herself.
‘Thanks,’ he said, his tone grateful as he sat down. ‘And sorry again.’
Singing in the Rain at the Picture House by the Sea Page 5
