‘What the hell are we going to do?’ Les Miserable said, scratching his head and making his hair stick up even more than usual. ‘Where are we going to sleep?’
‘I don’t know,’ Teresa said. ‘They must have more rooms available here.’
Les shook his head. ‘Fully booked.’
‘What are we going to do?’ wailed Beth. ‘I need my beauty sleep. I can’t work without a good night’s rest.’
Gemma tuned out as she watched Oli shaking the excess water from his hair. His T-shirt was soaked too. Gemma turned away. Now was not the time to be thinking about heroes in wet shirts.
The hotel manager appeared, his arms waving around like the blades of a windmill.
‘I am so sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Is everybody okay?’
‘I’m not okay!’ Beth announced, stepping forward and looking pristine.
‘Oh, my dear!’ the manager said. ‘I will never forgive myself if my favourite actress were hurt whilst in my establishment. Where are you hurt, my dear?’
Beth looked shifty for a moment, rearranging her dressing gown. ‘My toes got a bit wet, but my suitcase is ruined. Everything will need replacing.’
‘Oh, don’t fuss,’ Sophie admonished.
Teresa stepped forward to take charge. ‘Are there any other rooms we can use?’
The manager pulled a face. ‘I’m afraid we are completely booked.’
‘Oh, this is ridiculous,’ Beth said. ‘Do you expect me to hang around all night on a draughty wet landing in only a thin, lacy negligee?’ she said, batting her eyelashes in Oli’s direction. Oli grinned and Les Miserable did too, except it was more of a leer, and Beth thought it prudent to cover up at least half of her cleavage.
‘I’ll tell you what we can do,’ the manager said. ‘We have lots of spare bedding and can make beds up in the lounge for the rest of tonight.’
Beth tutted. ‘I’ve never heard the like!’
‘There are only about two hours left before we’re due to get up anyway,’ Sophie said. ‘I don’t see what the big problem is.’
The two actresses glared at each other.
‘We’ll make proper arrangements tomorrow,’ Teresa cried above the chaos. ‘Let’s just try to get through the rest of tonight.’
Gemma sighed and watched as Oli sauntered casually downstairs with his suitcase, and there was a sudden scramble between Beth and Sophie to follow, both, no doubt, intent on grabbing the nearest makeshift bed next to him.
Chapter 7
The last few weeks had passed in a blur of activity for Kay. She sold her little house in Hertfordshire and left the county that had been the home of the Bennet family in Pride and Prejudice and the scene of so much of her own personal sadness and moved into Wentworth House in Lyme Regis and a brand new beginning. The trouble was that her dream to be an artist by the sea hadn’t materialized. She hadn’t even had time to unpack her paintbrushes, let alone paint anything. There was just so much to do, such as saying good-bye to all her old friends and promising that they could come and stay at the B&B as soon as it was ready.
Mr Piper had recommended a local painter and decorator, Charlie Evans. He turned up with his seventeen-year-old son, who didn’t look at all happy to be there and kept disappearing, only to be found at the nearest slot machines. Still, they’d made a start with the hallway, dining room, and the bedrooms, as they were the most visually horrific rooms and the ones that paying guests would be most likely to notice. The living room and kitchen would have to wait.
Out went the headache-inducing carpets and the pink sinks, and in came tin after tin of cream paint and an army of white sinks. To replace the carpets, Kay chose seagrass. She’d always loved it, but had never been able to afford it before. The fun bit then arrived—choosing the accessories. There were some gorgeous shops in the area, and bedding, towels, lamps, and mirrors were chosen with love and care until all the rooms were worthy of featuring in a glossy magazine and Kay could feel just a little bit proud of the new home she created for herself and her guests.
How quickly she’d got used to her new life on the coast. She loved waking up to the sound of seagulls. Their raucous cries were the most efficient of alarm clocks, and she always tried to get a quick walk along the Cobb before breakfast, taking in the bracing sea air and watching the ever-changing moods of the sea.
She bought a map of the area and was learning all the names. To the west of the Cobb was Monmouth Beach, and farther along, Pinhay Bay, but her favourite place was still Lyme. She loved the view across Lyme Bay to the great hulk of Golden Cap, and on a very clear day, it was possible to see as far as the Isle of Portland.
There was so much she wanted to see and explore, too. All the places had magical-sounding names, such as Gabriel’s Ledge and Black Ven along the coast, and inland, villages with names like Wootton Fitzpaine and Whitchurch Canonicorum.
She loved the street lamps along the front in Lyme Regis that were shaped like ammonites. She loved the shiny mud of the harbour, which reminded her of the bitterest chocolate, and she loved the evenings, when the sea and the sky turned the palest pearly blue and it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. In short, she loved everything, but her favourite thing was the Cobb. She’d looked at it and walked along it, photographed it, and worshipped it from every angle, admiring the sloping sweep of it, sketching it in her pad over and over again, determined to paint it one day soon. It seemed like a living thing to her, and she desperately wanted to capture that energy on paper.
What she loved most about the Cobb was how welcoming it seemed to be—how everyone could walk there, from toddlers with grandparents to the dozens of dogs who came to Lyme with wagging tails and lolling tongues.
At the end of a particularly long day of ripping out old shelves and painting walls, there was a knock on the door. Kay had been sitting in the living room at the front of the house. Although it hadn’t been decorated yet, it looked jolly enough, with her old sofa and a couple of armchairs, and she was already beginning to feel quite at home there.
She’d just been rereading a few of the Lyme Regis pages from Persuasion and wondered who on earth was calling. She hadn’t been in Lyme long enough to make any friends, and she hadn’t yet opened Wentworth House for business. Kay walked down the hallway and unlocked the door. There was a slim woman standing on the step. She looked about forty years old with a careworn face that wasn’t smiling.
‘You’re a bed and breakfast, aren’t you?’ the woman asked, desperation in her voice.
‘I guess I am,’ Kay said.
‘Good,’ the woman said. ‘It’s just possible that you could save my life.’
Kay didn’t quite know what to say to that. She’d never saved anyone’s life before, but before she could say anything, the careworn woman invited herself in and was talking ten to the dozen.
‘I’m Teresa Hudson. You’ve probably seen some of my films. Passion of a Lady, Two on a Tower—that sort of thing. I’m a director. We’re making Persuasion here in Lyme, and the whole cast and crew are with me. How many rooms do you have?’ she asked, bustling about and poking her head around the door. ‘It’s very small, isn’t it?’
‘Five,’ Kay said. ‘I have five rooms, all en suite.’
‘Five? Twins, double?’
‘Three double, two twin, but the twins aren’t quite ready. We’ve been redecorating, and I wanted to—’
‘I’ll take them. I’ll take all of them. Doesn’t matter if they’re ready. We’re a bit desperate, you see. We’ve been staying at The Three Palms up the road, but a burst pipe’s made a few of us homeless, and there’s absolutely nowhere left in town. I’ve got production assistants running up and down the streets hammering on doors. It’s ridiculous. Somebody mentioned this place, except it didn’t look very promising from the outside.’
‘I’ve just moved in,’ Kay said, feeling it necessary to explain but annoyed that she had to. This was, perhaps, the rudest woman she’d ever met.
Teresa didn’t bother to wait for Kay to lead her upstairs but made her own way, opening doors and peering inside.
‘Nice,’ she said. ‘Small, but nice. Paint smells a bit strong.’
‘We’ve just decorated,’ Kay said, ‘as I explained.’
Teresa nodded and got out her mobile from her jacket pocket. ‘Les, it’s Teresa. I’ve found somewhere. Parking?’ she said. ‘Is there parking?’
‘Not far away,’ Kay said, pointing in the direction.
‘Yes, there’s parking nearby. You know what Lyme’s like.’ There was a pause, and Teresa frowned. ‘Hurry up and finish eating and then get yourselves down here. Marine Parade. It’s a place called—’ she stopped and looked at Kay with raised eyebrows.
‘Wentworth House.’
‘Wentworth House,’ Teresa repeated with a wry smile. ‘I know. It’s fate,’ she said, snapping her phone shut. ‘Right, I’ll choose myself a room.’
Kay watched in total bemusement as her first guest disappeared up the stairs.
‘Extraordinary,’ she said to herself.
***
Things got a bit chaotic after that. The next time Kay opened the door, she came face to face with a droopy sort of a man who was stubbing his cigarette out in Kay’s new terra-cotta pot. He didn’t say anything, only nodded and pushed into the hallway, where he hollered, ‘Teresa!’
Kay jumped.
‘Les!’ Teresa shouted back, appearing on the landing. ‘Everyone with you?’
‘They’re on their way. I’ve got Gemma, Sophie, Beth, and Oli. The others are okay at The Palms.’
‘Their rooms okay?’
Les nodded.
Before Kay had time to hear more, there was another knock on the door.
‘Is this Wentworth House?’ a young woman with a pretty, heart-shaped face and blond curly hair asked.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘I’m Sophie,’ the woman said. ‘Sophie Kerr.’
Kay frowned. She’d heard the name before. Recognition suddenly dawned as she ushered her inside. ‘You were in The Solitary Neighbour.’
Sophie nodded. ‘I was. How sweet of you to remember. That was years ago.’
Kay smiled. The Solitary Neighbour was a Gothic Victorian made-for-TV movie, just the sort of thing that Kay lapped up, and Sophie had played the heroine.
‘So you’re in this production of Persuasion now?’ Kay asked, hoping she didn’t sound too starstruck.
‘Henrietta Musgrove,’ Sophie said. ‘The boring sister who doesn’t get to jump off the Cobb and nearly break her neck in the name of flirtation.’
Kay laughed.
‘To be honest, I don’t mind. At least I don’t have to risk an injury doing stunts like Beth will.’
‘Beth?’ Kay asked.
‘Somebody mention my name?’ a voice called, and Kay and Sophie looked around to see the red-haired actress entering the bed and breakfast.
‘Beth Jenkins!’ Kay all but screamed.
Beth batted her eyelashes. ‘Oh, a fan,’ she said.
‘I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it. I’ve just been reading Persuasion—look!’ Kay ran into the sitting room and came out holding the book.
‘Well, how funny!’ Sophie said.
‘I had no idea it was being filmed here.’
‘Yes, well, one has to slum it occasionally,’ Beth said, looking up and down the narrow hallway. ‘My last job was filming in a villa in Marbella. Stunning views. Simply stunning. Got to top up my tan and everything.’
‘Yes, but Jane Austen heroines are meant to be pale and interesting,’ Sophie said, ‘and not look like an old leather handbag.’
Beth glared at her, and Kay’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe it. There were two famous actresses standing in the hallway of her bed and breakfast, and they were fighting!
‘I’ll show you to your rooms,’ Kay said.
‘I want a double,’ Beth said. ‘With a view.’
Kay nodded. ‘Sophie?’
‘Oh, just stick me in anywhere,’ she said with a wave of her hand.
‘Do you have any bags?’ Kay asked.
‘Oli’s bringing them,’ Beth said.
Kay wondered who Oli was. Probably some poor put-upon assistant.
‘This is the best double,’ Kay said. ‘You can see the Cobb and the whole of the front.’
‘Is there a bath? I must have a bath and a shower.’
Kay nodded. ‘The shower’s above the bath—’
‘Oh, God! Not one of those pathetic pieces of work that dribbles tepid water, is it?’
‘Don’t pay any attention to her,’ Sophie said. ‘She’s nothing but a spoilt brat.’
Beth turned around to face Sophie, and for one frightening moment, Kay thought Beth was going to punch Sophie.
‘And there’s a lovely twin next door,’ Kay said, thinking it wise to move Sophie out of harm’s way.
‘Oh, it’s lovely!’ Sophie said. ‘Will I be sharing it?’
‘Depends how many of you there are,’ Kay said.
‘Hasn’t Teresa told you?’
Kay shook her head.
‘I think there’s only Gemma and Oli, and I’d better not be sharing with Oli—no matter how divine he is.’ She flopped back onto the bed and sighed. ‘I wouldn’t want to make Beth jealous. She’s such a diva. All the attention’s got to be on her twenty-four seven. I wouldn’t mind, but she’s not even the lead.’
‘No?’
Sophie sat back up. ‘Gemma’s the lead, and you wouldn’t find a sweeter actress anywhere, but she’s as jumpy as anything. The complete antithesis of diva-face next door. God! I can’t believe I’m working with her again. She haunts me!’
Kay grinned. ‘What have you been in together?’
‘There was that dreadful TV thriller last year, and before that, we were in that boarding-school drama that seemed to go on for decades without any of us growing any older.’
‘Oh, yes!’ Kay said. ‘I remember that. Gosh, you’ve both been acting for years, then.’
Sophie grinned. ‘You make me sound like an ancient dame.’
‘Oh, no! I mean, you’ve got so much experience. You make me feel so ordinary.’
Sophie looked at Kay. ‘But you’ve got this place. It’s pretty amazing.’
‘Thanks. I just bought it. I was left some money,’ she said, thinking how easy it was to talk to the woman. ‘I’ve always wanted to live by the sea.’
‘I live near Waterloo Station in London. It’s horrible. I’ve got a flat that’s not too bad, I suppose, but it’s so ugly there. I try and work as much as possible so I don’t have to stay there.’
‘But isn’t it odd living in hotels all the time?’ Kay asked.
‘You get used to it. I don’t mind living out of a suitcase, and I love acting. I love becoming someone else.’
‘It must be a strange life,’ Kay said. ‘I can’t quite imagine it.’
‘Some are better suited to it than others,’ Sophie said. ‘Diva-face next door makes life miserable for everyone whose path she crosses. You won’t have to let her get to you, but Oli, now he’s brilliant.’
‘Who’s Oli?’ Kay asked.
‘Hello?’ a male voice yelled from downstairs. ‘Anyone here?’
Sophie smoothed down her hair with her hands. ‘I think you’re about to find out.’
Suddenly everyone was out on the landing.
‘We’re up here, Oli,’ Teresa shouted.
‘I hope you’ve got my bags,’ Beth said, walking out from her bedroom, her lips now painted a fierce scarlet.
‘There’s a double left for you, Oliver,’ Teresa said, and that’s when Kay saw him for the first time. He was walking up the stairs, and at first, all she could see was a shock of butter-blond hair. He lifted his head, a pair of blue eyes met her own, and a huge smile broke a
cross his face.
‘Hello,’ he said.
Kay’s mouth dropped open. It was the actor, Oli Wade Owen, and he was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
Chapter 8
If she could have taken her eyes away from him for a second, Kay would surely have done a prize-winning double take. To have a director in her house had been excitement enough; to have two famous actresses had almost caused Kay to combust with delight; but to have one of Britain’s most handsome actors—the man who’d played a thousand heroes, the man who’d adorned every cover of every magazine and newspaper—was almost too much to bear. And he was walking straight towards her.
‘You must be the good lady of the house,’ Oli said, extending a hand towards her. Kay held hers out, and he took it in his and shook it. It was a warm, melting sort of a moment, and Kay felt sure that her entire store of blood rushed to her face, because she felt as if her cheeks were on fire.
‘Kay,’ she managed to say. ‘Welcome to Wentworth House.’
‘Very apt,’ Oli said. ‘Seeing as I’m Wentworth.’ He looked around at the group that had gathered on the landing, and everyone laughed. It was as if he were a king holding court.
‘Right,’ he said, breaking the spell as he retrieved his hand. ‘Who’s for a drink?’
‘I am,’ Beth declared.
Teresa stepped in, holding up her hand. ‘One drink,’ she said. ‘We’ve got an early start in the morning, in case you’d forgotten.’
Oli clapped his hands together. ‘The Habour Inn it is, then. For one drink,’ he added.
Kay watched in bemusement as everyone bundled downstairs, and she couldn’t resist following. The front door was flung open.
Oli exclaimed as he almost smashed into a young woman standing on the step, ‘Gemma! What took you so long?’
‘I was carrying all these,’ she said, gesturing to the two suitcases and a bundle of carrier bags.
‘Oh, my hats!’ Beth said, nodding to the bags. ‘I found this divine hat shop here in Lyme. Take them upstairs, will you, Gemma? I’m in the double at the front.’
Dreaming of Mr. Darcy Page 4
