‘As long as we do.’
‘Don’t.’ Ash shook his head. ‘But honestly, as long as we don’t fall apart we’ve got to be better than the first two teams, haven’t we?’
‘The Hippy Fusions and the Pig Killers? Definitely.’
‘Food!’
The cry went up from the runner who was nearest the hallway, his arms full of potted ferns which had been in the sitting room. The ferns were abandoned – so was everything else – as the crew galloped towards the front door.
‘Come on!’ one of the cameramen shouted cheerfully. ‘Polly and Emma and the rest of you! Grub’s up!’
‘I can’t eat a thing,’ Poll muttered as they picked their way round the equipment and over the cables snaking all across the kitchen floor.
‘Me neither,’ Ella said.
‘I think I’ll just have a cup of tea.’ Billy shook his head. ‘I’m much too nervous to touch a bite.’
‘Wow!’ Ash blinked in the blinding sunlight as they all trooped outside from the darkness of the house, and lined up behind the crew at the side of the food wagon. ‘It certainly smells good.’
Within what seemed like a nanosecond, everyone had piled-high plates and was in the garden again, sitting round the wooden table or on the swing seat.
‘Breakfast in the fresh air,’ Ella said, forking up scrambled eggs with gusto. ‘Fantastic.’
‘Just what I needed,’ Trixie muttered through a Hideaway-forbidden bacon bap, ketchup dripping glutinously on to her plate.
‘Mmm,’ Poll agreed over her poached eggs and hash browns. ‘And to think I said I wasn’t hungry.’
The pretty girls were nibbling toast and drinking black coffee and watching Ash. Ash, beside Ella on the swing seat, still appeared not to have noticed.
‘They do a smashing lunch, too,’ the sound man told them. ‘One good thing about location work on this job – you never go hungry.’
‘So.’ Ella leaned forward. ‘What are Gabby and Tom really like? I mean, of course we’ve watched them for ages, but surely, the way they snipe and snap at each other – and everyone else – is all an act for the television, isn’t it?’
The crew looked at one another.
‘I think,’ the producer said eventually, scraping his plate clean, ‘that it would spoil the surprise if we told you anything about them. You’ll just have to wait and see for yourselves.’
‘But surely you can give us some clues?’ Ash said. ‘I mean, how they expect us to behave, what we’re supposed to say and when – and what we do in front of the cameras?’
One of the cameramen grinned. ‘Oh, no. We can’t do that. Gabby and Tom will do all that. They like that part of the show best – the prepping of the contestants. It’s like virgins to the slaughter.’
Oh, dear God… Ella gulped in terror.
The director chuckled. ‘Just one word of warning, though. They’ll be preceded by a bevy of outriders. They have separate cars – and chauffeurs – and Gabby refuses to go anywhere without her dresser, make-up girl, hairdresser, PA…’
‘Doctor, dentist, lawyer, chef, minders…’ The runner boy grinned. ‘Not to mention florist, jeweller, butcher, baker, candlestick maker.’
‘Oooh, yes,’ Poll said, nodding, ‘we know about most of those. We’re having our hair and make-up done too, aren’t we?’
‘Not by Gabby’s girls, you’re not.’ The director looked askance. ‘You’ll get staffers. Gabby employs her own.’
‘Really?’ Ella looked shocked. ‘What, even for outside broadcasts?’
‘Especially for OBs,’ the producer sighed. ‘It’s like being on bloody tour with Mariah Carey.’
‘Your make-up girl and hairdresser should be here in about half an hour,’ one of the pretty clipboard girls said, smiling directly at Ash. ‘They like to have everything done before the Dewberrys arrive.’
‘Which will be when, then?’ Poll started to collect up the empty plates. ‘I’d love to have time for a little chat with Gabby and be able to show her round the house and the garden and –’
The crew stared at her in stunned silence. Then one of the clipboard girls giggled.
The producer shook his head. ‘Possibly best not to. That’s my advice. Anyway, they’ll be here in – oh, about four hours.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
And they were. But not before the programme’s hairdresser and make-up artist had arrived and ushered Ella, Poll, Ash and Billy into Poll’s vast lilac and silver bedroom to be – as Ella put it later – Gok’d.
It took simply ages.
First, they all had to dress in their black bottoms – George had chuckled dirtily again over the phrase and been shushed by Trixie – and pale-blue tops and be covered with little plastic capes which made them even hotter than they already were, and allow the girls to do their best – or worst.
Billy had laughed about having to wear powder to lessen the shine. ‘If our Mary could see me now, she’d be all disapproving and say I was doing a Danny La Rue.’
Ash, Ella had noted with some annoyance, seemed perfectly happy to allow two very attractive women to mess around with his hair and get very up close and personal while they flicked shader and highlighter over his face and cooed together over the astonishing length and darkness of his eyelashes and the spectacular angle of his cheekbones.
‘Gabby’s going to lurve you,’ the hairdresser said huskily. ‘She’ll probably have you stripped and washed and taken to her tent.’
Poll, taking this literally, had looked horrified.
But not quite as horrified as when she’d looked in the mirror and seen herself with very blue eyeshadow and very red lips and her fly-about hair smoothed into a sort of pageboy effect.
‘That’s not me!’ she’d cried at her reflection. ‘I look like my mother! Oh, look, I hate to complain and I know you’re doing a great job, but, please, let my hair look more messy, and, please, please, can I wipe off my mouth and eyes?’
‘No way,’ the make-up girl had said cheerfully. ‘At least, not the lippy or the eyeshadow. You have lovely eyes. The blue shadow will make them sparkle on the screen. And the red lipstick makes your mouth more prominent. It all has to be exaggerated, see?’
The hairdresser nodded. ‘The eyes and lips stay, but if you’d like your hair to be a little more tousled… ?’
‘Tousled!’ Poll had nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, I like the sound of tousled.’
So the page boy had been mussed up and sprayed into a more dishevelled style and eventually Poll and the hairdresser were happy.
Ella had found it very strange after weeks of the bare-faced country wench look to be made-up again. How odd she looked with heavily kohled smoky eyes and sleek, glossy hair. It was like having City Ella back again – and she didn’t like it much.
‘There!’ The girls had eventually finished and stood back to admire their handiwork. ‘Wonderful. We’ll be on hand to touch up as necessary before the programme and, off screen out of shot, throughout the proceedings, but you’re the most attractive bunch we’ve had for… oooh, ages. You’ll all look absolutely great on the screen.’
‘On the screen,’ Poll had echoed, as the reality hit home. ‘Oh, dear… Excuse me, I need the bathroom. I think I’m going to be sick.’
And then, as the crew continued to work tirelessly in the kitchen, checking and rechecking, and as the sun climbed ever higher and ever hotter in the midsummer sky, the Dewberrys arrived.
In a convoy of cars purring down Hideaway Lane.
And they weren’t alone. ‘Jesus!’ Ella peered out of her bedroom window.
‘Everybody from damn everywhere is outside!’
She laughed to herself. Of course there was no way that the residents of Hazy Hassocks and surrounding villages were going to miss something like this. They’d turned up in their hundreds, camping along Hideaway Lane with picnics and chairs and sunshades and cameras, eager to be part of the biggest day the area had ever seen.
‘Ella!’ Poll’s
voice wavered nervously up the stairs. ‘Ella, I think they’re here and I can’t face them on my own.’
‘Just coming.’ Ella checked her make-up and hair in the mirror again, took several deep breaths, and ran downstairs.
Ash and Billy, looking pale, were in the hall. Poll, her hands fluttering, looked anguished. ‘I know they’re here because I saw the cars from the window… Should I go out and welcome them or wait until they knock?’
‘I’d wait,’ Ella said, not actually having a clue on the social niceties of greeting mega-star celebrities. ‘They clearly have their own way of doing things.’
The doorbell rang.
Poll teetered forwards and after a couple of failed attempts managed to pull the door open.
Gabby and Tom Dewberry, with a crowd of minions hovering behind them, stood on the doorstep.
Ella felt quite odd. It was too surreal.
Gabby, all perfect and pouty, with her trademark golden curls and an exquisitely cut cream linen suit, and looking ice cool despite the searing heat, was far, far smaller than she appeared on television. And, Ella thought with surprise, underneath the make-up, far, far older.
And Tom was all tall and dark and brooding – like a culinary Heathcliff – but with gentle brown eyes.
‘Hi.’ Gabby just slightly extended a tiny pale hand that she clearly didn’t want shaken, to Poll. ‘I’m Gabby Dewberry. This is Tom – and we’re delighted to be here at your home for this element of Dewberrys’ Dinners.’
‘Scripted,’ Ash hissed.
Tom smiled and said nothing.
‘Er, I’m Poll Andrews, and we’re delighted to have you,’ Poll, clearly awestruck, whispered. ‘Please come in and let me introduce you to…’
Gabby, with Tom walking a consort-regulation two paces behind, swept regally into the hall with her entourage, stared for a moment then smiled coquettishly at Ash, and ignored everyone else.
Ella sniggered.
‘Kitchen?’ Gabby enquired imperiously over one small shoulder.
‘Er, um…’ Poll fumbled. ‘Oh, yes, across the hall, then go right to the end of the corridor and it’s the last door on your right.’
Ella and Ash looked at one another.
‘Cow?’ Ash asked as they followed the herd.
‘Definitely,’ Ella hissed. ‘Grade One Dairy Show Champ. And she clearly wants to be your Sugar Mummy. Oh, goodness, this is going to be fun. Not.’
The crew stopped chatting and laughing and stood back in deferential silence as Gabby and Tom walked into the kitchen.
‘Hi, everyone.’ Tom spoke for the first time.
The crew all said hi back to him. It sounded genuinely friendly, Ella thought, and everyone smiled. Maybe Tom wasn’t so bad after all.
‘What a perfectly lovely farmhouse kitchen.’ Tom beamed at Poll. ‘I grew up on a farm and this is exactly like –’
Gabby shot him a Look and he lapsed into silence.
The on-screen sniping and carping was definitely no act, Ella thought.
‘It’ll do.’ Gabby gave the kitchen a cursory glance. ‘Plenty of room. Plenty of light. We need more fans though. There’s obviously no air con and I refuse to wilt. Fetch fans, someone!’
Three people skittered away.
Gabby preened. ‘Now, first things first. I’ll need a room for resting, changing, hair and make-up.’
Poll looked blank. ‘What? Oh, yes, of course… um… well, there’s my bedroom.’
‘En suite, I trust.’
‘Well, there’s a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.’
‘Really? Oh well, I suppose it’ll have to do. Clean bedlinen?’
‘What?’ Poll looked helplessly at Ella. ‘Oh, I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting…’
‘Fresh on this morning,’ Ella lied cheerfully.
Gabby nodded. ‘Good. And floor-length mirrors?’
Poll coped with this one. ‘Er, yes.’
Gabby flicked flinty eyes towards the crowd of followers. ‘Find the bedroom. Check for dust. Set up the extractor and the diffuser. I’ll have the lilies, the Evian, the rice cakes and the sushi. Get the rest of the usual stuff laid out. Bedroom and bathroom. Clean both rooms if necessary. Then I’ll have the two Alexander McQueens – the blue and the red – oh, and the gold Stella McCartney. I’ll decide later. And the Louboutins. All of them.’
Several more of the followers peeled off and, after whispered directions from Poll, disappeared.
‘Next,’ Gabby said, ‘let’s make this clear – Tom and I are consummate professionals. We never, ever use an autocue. You’re simply amateurs of course, but you won’t have an autocue either. I know you’ll have been told how we want you to behave but I need to reiterate. Act just as if we’re not here and the camera isn’t there, and there are no viewers. Naturally. Talk to us only when spoken to. Do not look at the camera. Never, ever look at the camera. Do not look at the monitor screens. Listen to directions, and obey if necessary. And do not swear. Ever. If things go wrong then grin and bear it and put it right as damn quickly as possible.’
‘We had a team in one heat,’ Tom said, smiling happily, ‘who lost the plot completely and used the most amazingly bad language. Enough to make a docker blush, it was. We zapped away from them quickly, but not quickly enough and –’
Again, he was quelled with a Look.
Gabby then turned to Ash and flicked her tongue over her glossy lips.
Dear God, Ella thought, she’s going to eat him alive… Mind you, he did look particularly delectable in his black jeans and a pale-blue Ben Sherman shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbow.
‘Now you –’ Gabby did the lip-licking again and purred ‘– are exactly what we need. The camera will l-o-v-e you. Not to mention the viewers. We’ll have to feature you a lot. The majority of our viewers are women, which means, if you get through to the next round, when it comes to the public vote you should do v-e-r-y well.’
‘Thanks, but isn’t that a bit sexist?’ Ash said. ‘Surely –’
‘Sexist, yes. Top viewing figures, definitely. I only care about the latter. Now, your menu…’
Poll stepped forward. ‘Ah, yes, now, we’re doing a proper farmhouse meal and –’
‘Please, no interruptions.’ Gabby frowned. Or tried to. ‘I’ve read your menu. I don’t need to go through it again. I just need to know that you haven’t deviated.’
Ella and Ash giggled together.
‘No deviations? Good. And your equipment is ready? Your food is all here? Nothing missing? And you’ve got your Gabby’s Secret Ingredient ready for me to find reasonably easily?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Poll said with enthusiasm. ‘We’ve got –’
‘Don’t tell me!’ Gabby shrieked. ‘I have to use my expertise, you know. And the viewers always love watching me rooting through your fridge and freezer and cupboards and discovering your murkiest cookery secrets. Everyone is a voyeur at heart, don’t you agree?’
Ella bit her lip.
‘OK.’ Gabby tapped a tiny foot. ‘So, you can assure me that nothing last minute can possibly go wrong, can it?’
‘Yes, love,’ Billy said comfortingly. ‘And no, love. Yes, we can assure you and no, nothing at all will go wrong. Everything’s ready. We’re all shipshape and Bristol fashion. And we’re all primed and raring to go.’
Billy was treated to a Look. Then Gabby screamed and pointed. ‘A child! There’s a child!’
Ella turned just as Trixie and George sauntered in through the back door.
‘Lose the child!’ Gabby instructed a minion. ‘And the old lady!’
‘I’m no old lady,’ Trixie huffed indignantly. ‘I’m probably around your age, and I do have a name.’
Ella held her breath.
‘My name is Gossamer Snapdragon.’
Ella whimpered and didn’t dare look at Poll or Ash.
‘And,’ Trixie continued, ‘young George lives here and I’ll thank you not to yell at him in his own home. I know tonight when you’re do
ing the filluming to keep him well out of the way, but he’s naturally curious and he isn’t doing anyone any harm at the moment, is he? So you, madam, you keep a civil tongue in your head in front of the youngster, please.’
Tom sniggered and turned it rapidly into a cough. The crew all paled.
Gabby had two bright spots of colour on her cheeks. She looked like Aunt Sally. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Snapdragon, but this is my show. I do not like children or animals or –’ she narrowed her feline eyes at Trixie ‘– old ladies who aren’t cooking on my set. It should have been made clear from the outset.’
‘And it was.’ Billy stepped bravely into the fray as George ran to be cuddled by Poll. ‘Only they only mentioned the filming, see? They didn’t say young Georgie or, um, Trixie couldn’t be around beforehand. And, no harm done – so leave the lad alone, OK?’
‘That’s us out of the competition,’ Ash hissed to Ella. ‘Buggered before we even get to first base.’
Surprisingly, Gabby suddenly laughed. It was very shrill, and a bit tinny and discordant, but it was definitely a laugh.
‘Oh, I do love you rustic characters who call a spade a digging thing with a handle. Give me an outspoken character any day over the sycophantic PC brigade. OK, I’m sorry, I may have overreacted a little, but the kiddie ban still holds good. And you –’ Gabby fixed an indulgent smile on Trixie ‘– Mrs Snapdragon or whatever your name is, you can keep out of my way, too.’
‘Pleasure.’ Trixie sniffed, gathering her floral polyester frock more closely to her plump thighs and stomping out of the kitchen.
‘Phew,’ Ash hissed. ‘That was a close one.’
‘Mmm.’ Ella watched Trixie’s swaying rear end as she continued to stomp out of sight. ‘But I’m still worried about her. I think she’s got something up her sleeve.’
‘Probably just a hankie,’ Ash said reassuringly. ‘My nan always has hankies up her sleeve.’
‘So does mine, but you know very well that wasn’t what I meant.’
Gabby interrupted this conversation by clapping her hands. ‘Right, I’m happy that everything here is as good as it’s going to be. I’m now going to have my rest and then get bathed and changed. I do not want to be disturbed. Not for fire, flood or any other disaster. I rest – you deal with it. Understood?’
The Way to a Woman's Heart Page 22
