by Nancy Barone
At his blank face, I rolled my eyes. ‘Tea?’
‘Coffee in the mornings for me, thanks.’
‘And how many sugars?’
‘None, thanks. Just a little milk please. And then we can start,’ he said, becoming all business-like. Which actually made me feel more comfortable than talking about myself, although you wouldn’t know it, the way I yapped on. I guess I was just grateful for some adult company. I hadn’t spoken to Emma properly for a while, and Jack was busy working like a dog.
‘Sure. I’ve put a table next to the dining room window if that’s okay? Although it’s rather small, I’m afraid.’
He pulled out a tablet from his travel bag and tapped it as he sat down by the window. ‘I don’t need much space. Everything I need is in here.’
‘Okay,’ I said, feeling a bit nervous. ‘I’m new to this as you know, so where do we start?’
‘Well, I’ve reread your book and underlined and made notes.’
‘Yes?’ Gosh, that was the first time I’d heard anyone do that, apart from a reviewer, my nemesis, who killed my books every time with her scathing comments on my writing. And… she was usually one of the first ones out.
‘I gotta say, Nina, your novel reveals more and more each time I read it.’
I laughed. ‘That sounds like a great endorsement, Luke.’
‘It is. If I am willing to spend millions on it, it means I love it. You are an extraordinary writer. And it feels as though you wrote this part for me. It seems like you have known me inside and out for ages.’
Was that what he thought? I think I blushed, because my face suddenly felt hot. And I was too young for hot flashes.
‘I’ve a confession to make, Luke.’
He grinned as if nothing could upset him. ‘What’s that, Nina?’
‘The day we met, I went back to my hotel room and googled you.’
‘Are you serious? You didn’t know who I was?’
Jesus, was he full of himself or what?
‘That was a joke, Nina. Come on! No need to make a face.’
‘Oh. Sorry. In any case, it’s not that I didn’t know who you were, because I recognised you instantly. But since the kids were born… I really don’t remember seeing anything that wasn’t from Disney or Pixar. And I don’t really buy magazines or even the papers. But I did see you at the Oscars.’
He laughed. ‘You mean when I didn’t win?’
‘Yep.’
He put his hand on mine. ‘Thank you, Nina.’
‘For what?’
‘For writing such a great book, for welcoming us into your home. And above all, for not giving a crap about who I am.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘I’m serious. You’re the first person I meet who actually isn’t…’
‘Star-struck?’
‘Yeah. I mean, I’m a guy like everyone else, only with more…’
‘Money?’
He grinned. ‘I was going to say visibility.’
I nodded, and we got back to work.
As it turned out, our first morning of work hadn’t been as bad as I’d thought. Granted, we’d hit some potholes (and thankfully not plotholes) along the way, but I had to accept that now my story was evolving for the screen. How much “evolving” it was about to do remained to be seen.
19
Gossip
As would have been expected, the news of the arrival of a Hollywood star in Penworth Ford could not have stayed smothered for long, and soon everyone between eight and eighty (well, ninety-three, actually, counting Old Nellie from the tea room on Fore Street) was gagging for some gossip.
‘Is he staying in your house?’ Nellie asked me as her granddaughter Annie poured us a cuppa and brought us carrot cake on the house (after all, I was a half-celebrity now, wasn’t I? Well, at least in the village).
‘No, Nellie. He’s booked a suite at an inn.’
‘Is he as handsome as he looks on the telly?’ Her eyes shone with excitement.
I thought about it. ‘Even more.’
‘And are you going to sleep with him?’
‘Nan!’ Annie cried.
I laughed. ‘No, Nellie, I’m not going to sleep with him. It’s just a business relationship.’
‘I think you should definitely sleep with him,’ she said with a nod, her silver eyes sparkling behind her thick, foggy lenses.
Annie turned crimson. ‘I’m so sorry, Nina! Nan sees intrigue and sex everywhere.’
‘She should write a book then!’ I quipped, forking some cake into my mouth. ‘Oh, my God, Annie, this is delicious!’
‘Nan’s recipe,’ she said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Isn’t it, Nan?’
Old Nellie nodded, caressing her granddaughter’s face. ‘They’re cute when they’re young, aren’t they?’ she said, turning to me. ‘I was cute when I was young, too! And Charles was the handsomest devil you’d ever seen.’
‘Who’s Charles?’
‘My first love. I was,’ she whispered, leaning in, ‘the “older” woman!’
I put my cup down. ‘Really? What was he like?’
She clasped her hands together. ‘A real blinder. Couldn’t eat for days, the first time I met him. But… he was married.’
I looked at her, her white, paper-thin skin, spotted hands and wrinkly but dreamy eyes. And it surprised me that I had never thought of her that way. We seem to forget that the elderly once had love lives.
‘Nellie! It looks like you were not only the older woman but also the other woman, you naughty girl, you!’
How the years take everything away except for the memories. It must have been terrible for her, loving someone for so long, wanting to be with him but also feeling guilty for the pain she would cause another woman if she got her wish. But at least she had loved, and cherished those memories. I had nothing in my heart but disappointment and bitterness. But at least I was now out of the hurting game.
*
About a week later, as I was getting into the hang of scriptwriting (well, sort of), Luke suddenly got to his feet.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. Had I said or done something untoward? Did he not like my rendition of Stella?
‘I’ve been here for days and you haven’t once taken me into town. Even Jessica’s been a gazillion times.’
‘I thought… you would want to avoid the crowds,’ I explained, feeling guilty for keeping him cooped up.
‘Crowds? The whole population of Penworth Ford is what I have in one evening at a house party. So, are you coming?’ he asked.
Well, if he put it that way. ‘Okay, then. I’ll get my bag. Guys? Would you like to come into town with us?’
‘Can we get cake?’ Chloe negotiated.
‘Of course,’ I said, and we all piled into his rental, also because he wouldn’t fit in my Ka.
We parked by the village gardens by the sea, which was a stone’s throw away from the centre along Fore Street. The village was in a stir. First the book, then the movie and now the star, in the flesh? It was more than anyone could take, especially a backwater hamlet like ours. ‘Everyone knows who you are,’ I warned him as we walked down the High Street, and oh God, who was the first person we ran into? Vanessa, the Northwood chairwoman.
‘Niiiinaaa, helloooo!’ she called, waving her bejewelled hands at me, kissing me on both cheeks like they did on the continent. ‘And who do we have here, Luke O’Hara? Such a pleasure to meet you!’
‘Hi,’ he said, shaking her hand.
I cleared my throat. ‘Vanessa is—’
‘Our children are best friends at school,’ she cut in, and I almost snorted.
If Chloe and her Imogen were even remotely friends, then I was Queen Elizabeth the First. I couldn’t remember how many times I’d asked Vanessa to tell her daughter to stop bullying mine.
‘I’m the chairwoman of the PTA at Northwood Academy,’ she said, as if Luke was supposed to know all about the school.
He turned to me for help.
�
��It’s just the school our kids go to,’ I floundered.
‘Not just a school,’ Vanessa corrected me. ‘It’s one of the best, if not the best, school in Cornwall, if not the entire West Country.’
‘West Country?’ Luke asked.
‘It’s just the western part of England,’ I explained.
‘By the way, Nina,’ Vanessa continued. ‘I know you’re busy with Luke doing your scriptwriting, so I’ll come to your place and pick up your arancini for the festival.’
Ah. That was a first. ‘That’s all right, Vanessa. I can bring them to the school just like I do every year.’
‘Ah, I insist! We can’t keep our celebrities from their work! I’ll call you next week then. Goodbye, Luke, it was delightful meeting you!’
And just like that, she was on a first-name basis with him. It had taken me years of slogging away at my laptop to even get close to a celebrity, and she had done it in a nanosecond.
‘Likewise,’ he answered politely as she lifted herself onto her tiptoes to kiss him on both cheeks, taking him by surprise, but he was very smooth. He wasn’t Hollywood for nothing.
As we ambled along, the kids ahead of us, a couple of my fellow villagers stopped to say hi and to welcome Luke to Penworth Ford, assuring him he was in good hands with me.
‘Sorry about that,’ I apologised as we resumed our way towards the Post Of ice.
‘Don’t be. I managed to get somewhere with only three people recognising me. And they were so polite! No cameras in my face, no pens shoved up my nose. Just pleasant exchanges between normal people. This is such a beautiful little village, like the kind you see in fairy tales.’
‘It is,’ I agreed happily. ‘Only salt-of-the-earth people here. Well, except for maybe a couple.’
Luke laughed. ‘Meaning that woman with the red claws?’
‘Vanessa?’ I said. ‘She’s harmless.’
‘She’s jealous of you,’ he said.
‘Jealous? Absolutely not. If anything, she feels above us all because she comes from money.’
‘So will you, very soon, dear Nina. You’ll be so rich you won’t know what to do with your money. And you might even buy yourself a mansion facing the Pacific. We could even be neighbours one day.’
‘Who? Me?’ I said with a laugh. ‘Ah, Luke, you are truly entertaining.’
He shrugged. ‘If you keep writing movies I want to produce, you will shoot to the top, Nina.’
I stopped. ‘You want to produce more movies from my—?’
‘Your books? Yeah. I told you, I love them.’
My heart began to pound. ‘But you never mentioned…’
He took my arm. ‘Let’s get through this script first, okay? I just wanted to throw that at you in case you ever doubted my respect for you during one of our heated arguments.’
‘We’re going to have heated arguments?’
‘Lots of ’em, Nina. But that’s the way it works in Hollywood.’
‘Oh. Okay, then.’ I paused just outside the Post Of ice. ‘And here is one of my oldest haunts. As you can see, one of the Fs is missing, but Alf is such an original, he decided to leave it that way, and the ladies from the ice cream parlour opposite decided to call their place The Post Of ice Cream, just for laughs. They’re a great bunch. Come on in, I’d like to introduce you. Bev and Carol and Deirdre take care of Alf since he was widowed, just out of the goodness of their hearts, and when he was ill they took turns in running the shop for him. They have been with me from the very start here in Cornwall.’
‘They sound like a great bunch,’ Luke said.
‘Oh, they are,’ I said as I pushed the door open, and a jingle filled the shop.
‘Morning, Alf,’ I called, but he just sat behind his paper, as deaf as a post.
‘Hi, Alf!’ I repeated, and the paper came crashing down to reveal a sullen face.
‘Hello, Nina,’ he said, and my blood froze at the frostiness in his voice. Had I offended him in some way? Had his Anchor Beer turned out bad?
‘Hello, pet,’ Deirdre said, sliding in behind the counter, patting my hand.
‘Folks, this is Luke O’Hara. We’re working together on my script.’
‘Of course,’ Deirdre cooed. ‘Lovely to meet you, Mr O’Hara.’
‘Mr O’Hara’s my dad, ma’am,’ Luke said, turning on the charm. ‘Please call me Luke.’
‘Oh, my, to be on first-name terms with a Hollywood superstar!’ she returned with an equal amount of panache.
‘Alf,’ I said. ‘I was just telling Luke the story about you. Are you ever going to get the F up?’
He glared at me from under those bushy eyebrows that looked like rats’ nests. ‘When did you start swearin’, Nina?’
I laughed. A forced, croaked laugh. ‘No, I mean the F on your sign. It’s been like that for years now.’
‘Well, Nina, maybe I don’t like change. And maybe neither should you.’
My mouth fell open as my eyes swung to Luke’s who didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’ll be at the dairy section,’ he whispered and slipped away.
‘Oh, Alf,’ Bev said, elbowing him in the ribs as she joined us. ‘Go on, pet, don’t mind this ogre. He’s just having one of those days.’
‘I am not,’ Alf interjected, putting his paper down. ‘Nina, we’ve known you for years now, ever since you became one of us. And you know we don’t take kindly to strangers so easily, so you can understand how much we love you.’
I nodded, and suddenly some stupid tears were sliding down my face again. ‘I love you too, Alf. I love you all…’
‘And we love you, pet,’ Deirdre – who only needed to see the shadow of a tear to get emotional – blubbered, coming around the counter again to embrace me. ‘You are the daughter I never had…!’
‘Oh, dearie me,’ sighed Carol, who, being hard of hearing, had missed most of the words spoken, but there was no mistaking the tears and Alf’s icy manner towards Luke.
‘Alf!’ Bev hissed. ‘When are you going to learn your manners once and for all?’
He shrugged. ‘What? I only said the truth! What did I tell you the moment I saw his face in the papers? I didn’t like him, I said. And I still don’t!’
‘You’re talking nonsense as usual. And lower your voice,’ Bev scolded as Deirdre dried her eyes. ‘And where is your Cornish sense of hospitality?’
‘Ain’t got none for the likes of ’im!’ Alf declared, nodding down the aisle to where Luke, reading milk labels, pretended not to hear. If anything, he was a gentleman.
‘Shut your mouth,’ Bev said. ‘Shame on you, at your age. You are going to be nice to him from now on, do you understand?’
‘Why should I be nice to that fancy gent?’
‘Because he’s a friend of Nina’s. And because if you don’t, you’ll be cooking your own meals and doing your own laundry. Right, girls?’
Bev squeezed my hand and nodded firmly. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Tough crowd.’ Luke whistled as we got back into his car.
I turned in my seat. ‘Luke, I’m absolutely mortified. I just don’t know what’s got into him. He’s normally a sweetheart, you know? It must be the Alzheimer’s. I’m so sorry.’
Luke patted my hand. ‘It’s okay. He’s just protecting his baby.’
I grinned. ‘I am, in a way.’ It felt so great to be loved.
The next morning, Luke, who had unwittingly stumbled upon Nellie’s tea room, arrived with a selection of her best croissants as I was pouring the coffee. Chloe and Ben had come down to retrieve Jessica and take her upstairs.
As Luke leaned against the counter sipping his coffee, the fridge barked and he leapt to attention, swinging his round eyes from the fridge to me. ‘What the—I say what the Jesse James was that?’ he said in a John Wayne accent.
I laughed and shrugged. ‘It does that all the time. Jack says it’s just because it’s old.’ The subtext being that there was no money for a new refrigerator, but it was too late to take it back. However, my finances wer
en’t as interesting to him as my social life.
‘Who’s Jack?’
‘Ben told you. Our neighbour.’
He looked doubtful. ‘You mean the farmer down the road? Is he qualified?’
‘Well, he was actually an engineer in London. But when he inherited Crooked Hill Farm from his gran, he decided to call it quits and enjoy the good life. He’s very happy here.’
‘He’s not the vet in your book, is he?’
‘No, of course not,’ I answered. ‘It’s a work of fiction. Besides, I wrote those before I moved here.’
Not that he believed me. ‘Hmm. Is this Jack guy as good-looking as the one in the book?’
I shrugged. ‘Handsome? Women seem to think so.’
‘And you?’
‘Me? I suppose he’s rather easy on the eye.’
‘Hm, now I’m jealous. Is he as handsome as me?’
There we go. It was only a matter of time until Luke hammed out on me. Blimey, these Hollywood stars had egos the size of cathedrals.
‘He’s… a different type,’ I considered. ‘You’re more of a yacht-y, French Riviera type, while he’s more of a…’ How to define Jack? ‘Woodsy type.’
‘I was actually joking when I asked, Nina. God, you’re so gullible.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ I never knew when he was serious. Which was good for his reputation as an actor, but made communication a little iffy at times. I had yet to become accustomed to his sense of humour.
‘Don’t be. It’s what makes you so adorable.’
At that, my face went hot.
‘How long have you known him?’ he asked.
I took a sip of my coffee. ‘Ever since we moved in three years ago.’
‘You’ve been here for three years?’ he asked, looking around himself, and I bristled.
I knew he didn’t intend anything by it, but the fact was that in all this time we hadn’t managed to complete the renovations. But I had painted the kids’ rooms and re-carpeted before Phil took what we’d had left.
The rest was… drab. No matter how many beautiful beach-themed cushions and rugs I scattered around the house, it still looked helpless. The original floorboards were one of the house’s strong points, but it was still a dump, especially compared to the Nirvana that was Luke’s house.
