A Seaside Affair

by Fern Britton

  Brooke pressed the secrecy button on the receiver and handed it to Penny. ‘He sounds nice – and interested.’

  ‘Penny Leighton speaking. Hello, Jonathan! … Yes, it is a long time. How was Canada? … Oh that must have been fun. Any plans to go back? … Well I may have just the thing for you. Do you know Cornwall at all …?’

  *

  Jonathan Mulberry had been intrigued by Penny Leighton’s call. He remembered her as bright, vivacious and single. He had almost fallen for her, but she was one of those driven career girls for whom life held no space for a partner. Tall, with salt-and-pepper greying hair – luckily all still in place – Jonathan knew he wasn’t classically handsome, but thought his face was interesting. Like most men of a certain age he was prone to getting slightly squishy round the stomach, but he tried to keep in shape. His work kept him active. He also appreciated women and their many and varied qualities, but since his marriage had failed more than a decade ago, he’d given serious relationships a wide berth. And he’d completely forsworn relationships with actresses. His ex-wife had been an actress, and he’d decided they were all like her: too needy and with fragile egos. Unfortunately, actresses seemed to be the only women he ever got to meet.

  He pulled himself out of the train seat that had held him since Paddington and gathered up the detritus of his journey. Two Twix wrappers, three cardboard cups of coffee dregs and all the day’s newspapers.

  This train is now approaching Bodmin Parkway. Please take all of your belongings with you when you leave the train …

  As the carriage twitched and rocked over the track running into the station, Jonathan walked joltingly down the aisle, managing to knock only two people on the tops of their skulls, one a teenager with loud music blaring from his headphones, the other a businessman stirring a Cup a Soup. He apologised to both.

  Hopping down on to the platform like a badly coordinated Labrador, he pulled his Mulberry post bag (a present from the witty Canadian company of actors he’d just been working with) on to his shoulder and looked about him.

  Penny was not there and nor, it appeared, was anyone else who looked a likely candidate to meet him.

  He walked to the barrier and pushed his ticket through the slot which opened the turnstile for him. On the other side was the pavement, a turning space and a car park. A sign saying TAXIS stood above an empty stretch of kerb. He turned as he heard the throb of a powerful engine. Behind the wheel of a bright red Jaguar sports car was the unmistakable face of Penny Leighton.

  ‘Darling!’ She leapt out and hugged him. ‘Typical that the train should be early. Let me take your bag.’ Though he didn’t disabuse her of the notion that the train was early, it had in fact been running ten minutes late.

  He hugged her back and held on to his bag. ‘I’ll keep it on my lap, Penny. This is so kind of you to collect me. A bit of a treat. I feel as if I’m on holiday, coming down here.’

  ‘Isn’t the journey glorious?’ Penny was reversing her car skilfully and pointing it towards the station exit. ‘So pretty as you go past Dawlish.’

  ‘I enjoyed going over Brunel’s bridge over the Tamar. It brought back the excitement of entering Cornwall that I felt as a kid.’

  ‘So, what have you been up to? Last I heard you were doing some whizzy play at the Donmar Warehouse that had all the critics in ecstasies – then things went a bit quiet.’

  ‘God, that bloody play. Nearly finished me off, ha!’ Jonathan ran his hand through his short curly hair. A five o’clock shadow was already spreading across his chin.

  Penny was reminded, as she glanced at him again while trying to focus on the road, of what she had found attractive about him in the first place. He wasn’t an obvious choice, but he had presence. Though he had a reputation as a stern task master, inclined to be sharp-tongued and irascible, Penny knew that he was incredibly loyal and kind and giving to those he cared about. The same ensemble of actors had signed up to work with him again and again, proof that he was capable of inspiring a cast, getting the best out of them and giving them the creative space to explore their characters.

  ‘I just became really disillusioned with the whole London theatre scene at that time. Seemed that the only way to get a play off the ground was to have some big Hollywood name as the star. It started to get to me: all those great actors languishing without work and the rarefied few taking all the credit. When She Stoops to Conquer bombed, I’d had enough. Very few Hollywood stars understood the London stage. So I decided to duck below the radar, rekindle my love for the art by doing some community theatre in Canada – thriving arts scene out there.’

  ‘And now you’re back.’

  ‘Yep, your call couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m ready now to ease myself back in to the UK theatre scene. Canada was great, but …’

  ‘Homesick?’

  ‘Exactly.’ He gave her a rather wonky-toothed grin.

  They both chatted easily and inconsequentially until they reached Trevay. As Penny drove slowly along the narrow harbour road she pointed out all the local landmarks and places of note. ‘Great lobster in that bar there. Best ice cream in the west here. And …’ She followed the bend in the road which kept the harbour on her right, ‘as we go up here towards the headland, you’ll see the theatre. I just know you’re going to fall in love with it.’

  The Pavilions stood in all its glory, half covered in scaffolding with a couple of decorators hard at work resilvering the cupola dome. A team of women were polishing the glass doors and brass handles. The car park still looked like a back lot for a Spaghetti Western, but there weren’t as many crisp packets blowing in the breeze as yesterday.

  Jonathan said nothing.

  ‘Well?’ appealed Penny.

  Jonathan nodded slowly, his lips pressed together in a grim line. ‘Why do you want to save it?’

  17

  Jess manoeuvred her left hand, fourth finger, into every glinting, gleeful and glorious position she could think of. The half-carat solitaire diamond surrounded by baby pink diamonds continued to delight her.

  ‘Jess – over here. To me.’

  ‘Jess – in the middle. Straight down the lens.’

  The posse of photographers outside their flat were jostling as Ryan and Jess stood at the front door and smiled.

  ‘How did he propose, Jess?’ shouted a reporter.

  ‘Romantically,’ she called back.

  ‘What’s it like to have the sexiest man on TV as your fiancé?’

  Jess laughed. ‘Not too bad.’

  The phalanx of cameras let rip their flashbulbs and shutters to capture the moment.

  ‘Give her a kiss, Ryan.’ The blitzkrieg again.

  The PR woman for Venini stepped forward and spoke to the press: ‘That’s it for now. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.’ Then she herded Ryan and Jess into their hallway and closed the door.

  ‘Well, that should keep them quiet for a bit.’ She looked at Ryan steadily. ‘Just be careful. When you’re back in LA, in a bar, on set, shopping, they’ll be watching you, hoping to catch you out.’

  Jess peered questioningly at Ryan, who answered smoothly, ‘Diane, I’ve been in the business long enough to know the tricks. Jess understands.’

  ‘What do I understand?’

  He put his arm around her. ‘That the press make stuff up.’

  ‘Oh.’ She smiled briefly, pushing down the unspoken fear that kept nagging at her. Nothing was going to burst this bubble. ‘Right.’

  Diane was looking at her phone and gathering her notepad and capacious bag simultaneously. ‘Right, my lovelies. I must go. Be good and be happy.’

  As they opened the door for her and Ryan planted two extravagant kisses on Diane’s cheeks, Jess spotted the last of the snappers outside on the pavement, talking on the phone to his office: ‘Yeah. Good shots,’ he was telling them. ‘She looks happy enough.’ Glancing up, he saw Jess and gave her a wave. She waved back and closed the door, not hearing him add, ‘Poor cow.’
r />   ‘Well, that was fun – and great timing for the launch of Horse Laugh.’ Ryan put his arm round her and together they walked upstairs to the flat. Elsie and Ethel skittered their short legs and tiny claws across the wooden floor and hurled themselves at them.

  ‘Hello, girls.’ He bent down to rub their tummies. ‘Your Mummy and Daddy are engaged and the whole world knows. Mummy’s very happy.’ He looked up at Jess, who was watching him. ‘Aren’t you, Mum?’

  ‘Yes. Very …’ she paused. Dare she say what she wanted to say? ‘Maybe I really could be a mum?’

  Ryan stopped the tickling and stood up slowly. He put his arms round her and kissed her. She felt his lips on her neck and then his voice close to her ear. ‘One step at a time, Jess.’ He released her and walked to the kitchen. ‘Glass of champagne to celebrate?’

  *

  ‘Do I look all right?’

  Jess and Ryan were in the back of a taxi on their way into the West End for the press screening of the first episode of Horse Laugh.

  Jess glanced over at Ryan and squeezed his hand.

  ‘Ryan, you look gorgeous.’

  ‘Do I?’ He studied his reflection in the cab window and played with the collar of his Tom Ford shirt. ‘Good shirt, isn’t it?’

  ‘Fantastic.’

  Still focusing on his reflection, he ran a hand through his carefully-crafted floppy hair. ‘You never know who’ll be there.’

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Jess asked quietly.

  ‘Hmm?’ He was now preoccupied with smoothing his eyebrows. ‘What?’

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Without taking his eyes off his own reflection he answered, ‘Yeah yeah. Lovely.’

  The taxi turned left into a narrow street and pulled up outside the discreet screening theatre. There were a couple of taxis ahead of them, depositing other guests into the drizzle. Ryan opened the taxi door and got out. ‘How much do I owe you, mate?’ he asked the cabbie.

  ‘Seventeen pounds eighty on the clock, sir.’

  ‘How much?’ Ryan was incredulous as he rummaged through his wallet for a twenty-pound note. ‘Take eighteen pounds – and I’ll have a receipt please.’

  The cabbie grudgingly gave him one with the two pound change. ‘Last of the big spenders entcha, mate?’

  In no mood to engage with the hired help, Ryan directed his annoyance towards Jess who was still in the back seat.

  ‘Come on, Jess.’

  ‘Can’t we wait till we can pull up outside the entrance? Look, the queue is moving. I don’t want to get my new shoes wet in the puddles.’

  But Ryan was already striding towards the entrance to the cinema. A flashbulb popped in his face and Jess saw him pose, handsomely, for the autograph hunters.

  She got out of the cab and followed him, gingerly stepping through the gutter and onto the kerb.

  As she reached Ryan, an autograph hunter thrust a pen into her hand. ‘Would you sign this for me, please?’

  ‘Certainly. How kind of you to ask.’ She managed a tight squiggle before Ryan, his hand in the small of her back and totally unaware that Jess was having a moment of fame, pushed her into the warmly lit entrance lobby.

  ‘Ryan, I was just signing tha—’

  Waving brightly to a young man on the other side of the hall, Ryan cried out, ‘Stevie, you old dog!’ And strode over to him.

  As Jess caught up breathlessly, a waiter cruised past with a tray of drinks. ‘Drink, sir? Madam?’

  Eyeing the glass flutes of champagne and Buck’s Fizz, Ryan said, ‘Rather have a Scotch if you can find one.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the waiter. As he turned to start his quest for whisky, Jess managed to grab a glass of Buck’s Fizz for herself. She was just raising it to her lips when Ryan introduced her to Stevie by thumping her on the shoulder. ‘Have you met Jess? My fiancée?’

  Stevie glanced at a Jess, who had champagne down the front of her dress with small, juicy pieces of freshly squeezed orange on her chin, and said, ‘Nice to meet you, Tess.’

  ‘Jess.’ She shook his hand but he was already listening to one of Ryan’s anecdotes about Venini.

  Jess spent a rather lonely twenty minutes standing next to Ryan while looking for people she knew from the cast and crew of Horse Laugh but she couldn’t see them anywhere. Presently a wafer-thin young woman in a smart black dress and teetering heels walked amongst the throng announcing that the screening would start in five minutes if they’d like to make their way to the auditorium.

  At the double doors into the cinema her producer was waiting for her. ‘Jess!’ She hugged and kissed her. ‘Where’ve you been? Was the traffic bad? Why are you so late?’

  ‘We weren’t late. I’ve been here for ages but I couldn’t see any of you.’

  ‘Didn’t you read the invitation? It said that all cast members were to come to the private drinks reception upstairs. We’ve been waiting for you.’

  Ryan, coming up behind Jess, dug into the inside pocket of his jacket to fish out a bent cardboard invitation.

  ‘Oh shit!’ he said as he read it. ‘Fuck.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Jess put a hand on his arm.

  ‘I’ll bet they had a darn sight better selection of booze than the crap we got. I never did get my Scotch.’

  *

  Horse Laugh was to be transmitted in six episodes, with the first week’s show running at a feature-length two hours, and the rest an hour long. Tonight’s screening would showcase that first episode. Jess settled in her seat, nervous as a kitten; she glanced down the row towards her co-star and they traded winks and thumbs-up signs before the lights dimmed, the title music swelled and the room hushed.

  Two hours sped by. Jess couldn’t believe how well the invited audience of critics and TV7 executives reacted to the story. They laughed in the right places, fell silent in the right places and clapped in the right places. Jess allowed herself to believe it might just be a hit. As the last line of credits faded she felt Ryan’s head lean affectionately on her shoulder. She turned to take his hand and share a kiss. He had pretended to nod off. She shook him. ‘Oh ha ha, darling. What do you think?’

  He opened his eyes with a start. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Yes, very funny. What did you think?’

  ‘Has it finished?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Did you really fall asleep?’

  ‘No, no. Just closed my eyes. You know what I’m like, left in a warm dark room.’

  His words sliced through Jess’s heart and shaky self-confidence.

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ she said.

  She got to her feet, trying desperately not to cry. But as she stood, the room began to applaud. She looked to her co-star, who was also getting to her feet. She seemed as bewildered as Jess. The crowd continued to applaud them both. Their producer grabbed their hands and led them to the dais in front of the screen.

  The applause built. Jess looked wildly over to where Ryan was still seated. People around him, standing now and clapping, were nudging him and leaning down to speak in his ear. He smiled his film-star smile and began to applaud his fiancée too.

  The ride home in the taxi was a quiet one. Ryan said very little to Jess, though he’d said all the right things to the director, TV7 suits and fellow actors. Now he seemed preoccupied. He nibbled at one of his nails, then pulled off his tie. When Jess leaned over to kiss him he didn’t kiss her back, but gave her a tight smile in return. He sat bolt upright and stiff, gazing out of the window with his eyes flickering over any passing object of interest. Not once did he look at Jess.

  Elsie and Ethel heard Jess’s key in the lock but didn’t bother to move from their cosy slumber.

  ‘Cup of tea, Ryan?’ Jess asked over-brightly.

  ‘I’m bushed. I’m going straight to bed.’

  Jess sat heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. Elsie pulled her short legs up to standing and hopped out of her basket. She trundled herself over to Jess and asked to be pic
ked up.

  Jess sniffed the familiar doggy smell and felt the little velvet ears on her lips. ‘Daddy’s cross with me,’ she whispered. ‘He’s cross that I did all right. Why would he be like that, Elsie? I’m always happy for him.’

  Elsie swiped her cold wet nose over Jess’s chin and licked her. ‘He’ll feel better in the morning, won’t he? He’s such a good actor and I’m just lucky to have got Horse Laugh, that’s all. It’ll be fine in the morning. Won’t it?’

  Ethel got out of bed and she too asked to be picked up. Their warm bodies on Jess’s lap gave her enormous comfort. She cuddled them, staring into space and going over the night’s events. A couple of the television critics from the broadsheets had come over to talk to her and paid her some wonderful compliments. The Head of Drama at TV7, a young man who looked about twelve to Jess, came and spoke very gratifyingly of a ‘huge success’ and asked her agent to book in a lunch with him to discuss a second series, which he was certain he would commission on the strength of this preview.

  Jess was so deep in thought that she almost didn’t hear Ryan come back into the room.

  ‘Darling?’

  She turned to face him, ‘Yes?’

  ‘You blew me away tonight.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You did stuff on screen that I had no idea you could do.’

  She began to shake her head, ‘No, no. I just …’

  He held his hand up to quiet her. ‘Listen to me, Jess.’ He knelt down in front of her and gazed deep into her eyes as he spoke. ‘You were amazing. You wiped the others off the screen. I couldn’t see anybody else but you. The others saw that too. Tonight you became a star … and I apologise for being such an arse.’

  18