by Fern Britton
‘Yeah. I’m fine. Ollie’s just shown me something from today’s paper.’
Ryan looked down at the same article in front of him and his palms grew sweaty. ‘Oh yeah? What’s it about?’
She frowned and bit her lip. ‘Oh, it’s nothing.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What paper?’
‘The Sun on Sunday.’
‘Oh. I think I have that. Let me look.’
‘Don’t bother.’ But Ryan was already adding fake sound effects of searching, by rustling the paper in front of him.
‘Ah yes. Here we are. What page?’
‘Nineteen.’
Ryan rustled and paused, then, ‘The little shit.’
‘How do those people sleep at night, writing lies like that?’
‘Agreed. But I meant Ollie. Put that toe-rag on the phone.’
Jess did so, happy to prove Ollie wrong.
Ollie put the phone to his ear and swallowed. ‘Hi, Ryan.’
‘Listen, you wanker, I don’t know why you want to make trouble between me and Jess, but back off. I’ve already given you the benefit of the doubt after you shared a bed with her last week. And if I get even a sniff of you trying it on with her again, I’m going to hurt you where the sun don’t shine. Geddit, sonny?’
‘Ryan, I wasn’t doing anything, I just thought it better that Jess should know …’
‘GEDDIT?’
‘I get it. Yes.’
‘Good. Pass me back to my fiancée.’
Ollie did as he was told. Ryan sounded very angry. ‘I don’t want you mixing with that man.’
Jess, always the peacemaker, said, ‘He’s a mate. Just looking out for me, that’s all.’
‘Well, I don’t like him. I want you to come up to London tonight.’
‘I can’t. I’m working tomorrow.’
‘You’ve got a cold, haven’t you? Tell that bloody director you’re ill and need to have a couple of days off.’
‘I can’t let him down. Besides I’ll feel better tomorrow.’
‘OK. I’ll phone him myself.’
‘No, Ryan!’
‘You are coming up to London and I am going to spoil you. I’ll take you to the Ivy for dinner. Pack something sexy. Now get on the next train and I’ll pick you up from Paddington. Tell them you’ll be back when you’re better.’
*
The Ivy Club was soothingly warm and friendly. The waiter escorted them to a table where they could both see and be seen by the great and the good who were members here.
‘You look lovely, Jess,’ said Ryan, reaching across the table to hold her hand.
She smiled. ‘Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.’
Ryan picked up the menu. ‘What do you fancy?’
‘You.’
He raised the lids of his dark, almond-shaped eyes and gave her a look that melted her heart.
‘Not Ollie?’
‘Not Ollie.’
Jess couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a dinner like this. She’d never been to the Ivy Club before. More exclusive than the world famous Ivy restaurant, it was star spotter heaven. Underneath an enormous canvas of Damien Hirst butterflies, Jess recognised Cara Delevingne, Kate Moss and Harry Styles laughing and enjoying themselves. Everyone in the place was a butterfly, drawn to the heady mix of fame and fashion. Membership was very expensive but had been a present to Ryan from his agent when he’d landed the second series of Venini. The waiter was diligent but not intrusive, the smoked salmon followed by the saddle of lamb was fragrant and melting. Jess was starting to think the time was right to mention marriage plans when a tall, very thin dark-haired woman in a Donna Karan dress walked past, stopped and then draped herself all over Ryan.
‘Darling!’ She left blood-red lipstick on his top lip. ‘Haven’t seen you for ages. How’s Serena? I thought she looked a-may-zing in LA.’ She glanced towards Jess and feigned surprise. ‘Hello.’ She held out her bony hand. ‘I’m Amanda. I’ve been working with Ryan in the States.’
She turned back to Ryan. ‘You and Serena are coming to the Huffington Post fundraiser, aren’t you?’
Jess was watching Ryan carefully. He was completely unruffled. ‘I think so, yes.’
‘Good. See you there. I’m sure it will be ghaaastly.’
She kissed him again and nodded at Jess. ‘Byeee.’
Ryan picked up his napkin and wiped away the lipstick. ‘Sorry about that. Horrible woman. That’s why I didn’t introduce you.’
‘Who’s Serena?’
Ryan was cutting into the last of his steak. ‘What, darling?’
‘Who’s Serena?’
‘Oh, she’s been in a couple of the new Venini episodes. Young actress. Quite good. Sweet.’ He eyed Jess warningly. ‘The equivalent of your Ollie, so nothing to worry about, is there?’
*
Two days later and Ryan had gone back to LA and Jess was back in Trevay being bawled out by Jonathan. ‘Where’s your sick note?’
Jess blushed. ‘It was a cold, that’s all.’
‘If it was just a cold you should have stayed here. Not been outside the Ivy Club being photographed on the arm of your boyfriend wearing next to nothing.’
Jess bit her lip to stop the tears that had started to blur her vision. Jonathan was becoming meaner and more unpleasant to work with as the opening night drew closer.
‘I …’ a thousand excuses whirled through her mind before she decided on, ‘I’m sorry, Jonathan. I really wasn’t feeling well and Ryan insisted I went home to rest. The night out was supposed to be a treat.’
Jonathan stared hard at her, frowning, before turning away with a sigh. ‘OK, you’re here now and you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
Colonel Irvine, watching this exchange from the sidelines, beckoned her over to where he was sitting. ‘My dear, he’s got his knickers in a twist. You are wonderful in the role and you’ve missed very little. Ignore him. I suspect his annoyance is based on something other than a couple of days off.’
‘What do you mean?’
But the Colonel gave her a sphinx-like smile and said only, ‘Youth is wasted on the young!’
Jess couldn’t think what he meant, but she was worried that she had got on the wrong side of Jonathan. She liked and respected him and she didn’t want him to think that she was a shirker. She resolved to work harder to make up for it. Perhaps she could take him out for a drink when he was less cross?
*
At the end of the working day, she and Brooke prepared to go home to Pendruggan.
‘Thanks for looking after Ethel and Elsie. Were they all right?’
‘Completely fine. I think they missed you. Ethel kept jumping up at the window, I think she was looking for your car.’
Jess looked around for Ollie.
‘He said he had to shoot off,’ said Brooke.
‘He’s hardly said a word to me all day.’
‘After what Ryan said to him, I’m not surprised.’
‘What?’
‘Well, Ryan kind of told him to back off from you, didn’t he?’
‘Did he? When?’
‘On the phone. Ollie doesn’t want any trouble. He’s got enough trouble with Red coming down.’
‘Is she?’ Jess felt a cloud of disappointment dim the room. Everybody was deserting her. Ryan back in the US. Jonathan shouting at her. Now Red coming to upset things.
‘Yeah. Tomorrow, I think. Can’t wait to meet her. A proper bona fide rock star! If she’s a bitch to Ollie I’ll give her a piece of my mind. Louis says he met her backstage at a Prince’s Trust concert in the park and …’
Jess tuned out as Brooke gossiped with gusto all the way back to Granny’s Nook. She needed to think. Ryan had told Ollie to back off? Red was coming to Trevay? Her little Cornish applecart was well and truly being upset.
27
Ollie felt sick with nerves. Red had called from Heathrow and was on her way down the M5 in
a blacked-out people carrier. She had sounded tired but was unusually upbeat.
‘I’m home to see my man!’ she’d whooped down the phone. ‘Get yourself scrubbed up and ready for me. I need you, Ollie, babe. And I mean neeeeed you.’
‘Great, honey. I’m looking forward to seeing you too. It’s been such a long time.’ He added a little joke. ‘How will I recognise you?’
‘Google me, babe, I’m the hot mamma with the great arse.’
He laughed with what he hoped was conviction. ‘Can’t wait, Red. Can’t wait.’
There was the sound of a muffled conversation between her and someone in the car.
‘Who’s with you?’ he asked.
‘Only Henrik and Bibi and Bango and …’ She pulled away from the mouthpiece to ask, ‘What’s your name, babe?’ Back into the phone: ‘… Oh yeah, and Mezz,’ she laughed, ‘and the fucking driver, who’s directly related to the slowest man on earth.’ Again she pulled the receiver away from her mouth: ‘Henrik, tell the twat to put his foot down or I swear to God I’ll drive myself.’
‘Where are you?’ Ollie asked.
‘Fuck knows. Henrik, where are we?’
More talking that Ollie couldn’t make out. She came back on the line. ‘Just passing Lifton Down.’
‘Oh shit, you’re about an hour away. I’d better get a move on.’
‘Yeah, baby, you get a move on before I make a move on you.’ She laughed hysterically and Ollie wondered if it was due to jet lag, alcohol or something altogether less palatable.
They said their goodbyes and he checked his watch: 6.30 a.m. He was due into rehearsal mid-morning. He hoped Red wouldn’t be too awkward and clingy when she arrived. With luck she’d want to sleep and he could leave her in his hotel room. But what about the entourage with her? He couldn’t stand Henrik – and who the hell were Bibi, Bango and Mezz? He needed to talk to someone who’d calm him down. He called Jess.
*
Jess was up and out on the beach with Ethel and Elsie. The warm sun was promising a perfect June day. The sea was flat calm and the cornflower sky reflected on its surface. The concerns of the last few days she put down to nerves. Her nerves, Jonathan’s nerves, Ryan’s nerves. The opening night was looming and rehearsals were getting more intense. It wasn’t just the cast on stage any more. Now, they were rehearsing with the band and the juvenile dancers from the local theatre school, along with their principal, the fearsomely glamorous Miss Coco Parry, who ruled her young pupils with an icy glare and plenty of praise – and they adored her.
Miss Coco, as she was known by one and all, was an ex-Bluebell dancer and one-time Tiller Girl. Now, surely pushing eighty, her face was still beautiful despite the wrinkles, her figure lithe and slender, her hair in a glossy raven pleat and her make-up immaculate. She held everyone spellbound with her charmingly colourful stories – told in her smoky, deep, elocuted voice – of dancing at the London Palladium in the Tiller Girl line-up.
‘Darling, I must tell you that high kicking in a synchronised line of girls is much harder than it looks and takes its toll on one’s digestive system. We had to be awfully careful about what we ate before a show. Certainly no baked beans. The blowing off that went on as we danced was nobody’s business! I remember one trombonist almost swallowed his mouthpiece he was laughing so much.’
Jess was chuckling to herself, recalling Miss Coco’s reminiscences, when her phone rang. It was Ollie.
‘Hello …’ she answered tentatively. Ollie was still being rather cool with her, almost avoiding her, and she couldn’t think why he’d be calling at this hour.
‘Hey, Jess.’ He sounded rather down. ‘Just wondered if you had a moment to talk?’
‘What’s wrong?’ She settled herself on a barnacled rock and tickled Elsie’s ears as she brought the ball back ready to be thrown again.
‘I dunno. I’m just … it sounds stupid … but Red’s arriving in the next hour and I’m just not … ready for her, I suppose.’
‘What do you mean?’ She chucked the ball and wiped the dog saliva and seawater off her fingers.
‘Just that, really. I don’t think I want her here.’
‘Ah.’
‘Mm.’
They both sat in silence, pondering this. Jess staring out to sea, watching a cormorant dive and wondering where it would surface. Ollie in his boxer shorts and T-shirt, sitting on his crumpled bed and feeling a rising, overwhelming anxiety.
‘What is she going to do when she gets here?’ asked Jess.
‘Fuck everything up.’ He wanted to crawl away and hide.
‘No, she’s not. You’re being overdramatic. Let’s be practical. Is she staying at the Starfish?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Is she on her own?’
He groaned. ‘No. She’s got some hangers-on with her. They’ll be awful.’
‘How do you know that?’ Jess had an urge to kick the self-pity out of him.
‘Because one of them is Henrik, who hates me, and the others will all be like him.’
Jess went for tough love. ‘Stop sounding like a sulky teenager. Your girlfriend is on her way. So are her friends. Get on to reception and book some rooms for them. While you’re at it, book Red into a room of her own so that she can have her own space.’
‘She’ll go mad,’ he said fearfully.
‘Tell her you’ve done it as a thoughtful gesture for her, knowing she needs to chill after all that travelling. Get the room filled with flowers and have them stock the mini bar. Book a masseur and anything else she likes.’
‘Maltesers.’
‘How very rock’n’roll,’ Jess said drily. ‘Order Maltesers by the sackload. That should keep her busy and out of your hair while you’re rehearsing. Oliver Pinkerton, you’ve got work to do. Get on and do it.’
*
The receptionist was super efficient; as soon as she heard who the rooms were for, she was straight on the phone to Louise Lonsdale. Ever on the lookout for a PR opportunity, Louise immediately vacated her personal suite and rounded up the housekeeping team with orders to have everything spotless within forty minutes.
There were three other single rooms available. They weren’t the best in the hotel, but by the time Louise’s gang had filled them with flowers, the latest DVDs, iced bottles of Krug and gift sets of exquisite Cornish gifts, they were suitable for royalty.
Ollie was showered, shaved, dressed and waiting at the top of the Starfish steps by 7.28. Louise came out to give him the once-over.
‘Nice shirt,’ she said.
He hugged her. ‘Thank you for getting everything ready at such short notice.’
‘The Starfish is always ready.’ She smiled at him. ‘I may have given you preferential rates on your room, but believe me, I’ll make a profit on the deal when word gets out Red is here.’
‘Louise!’ He stepped back, feigning shock. ‘You mean you’re not running this place as a charity?’
She put a manicured fingertip to her lips. ‘Shh.’
Three motorbikes slewed to a halt at the bottom of the steps and three pillion passengers dressed in black leathers and with black helmets leapt off. Out of the bike’s panniers they pulled fearsome-looking cameras with huge lenses. Twenty seconds later a red-and-white Fiat 500 with blacked-out windows joined them. The driver, with a hoodie covering most of his face, jumped out brandishing a similar camera.
Within seconds a black people carrier escorted by two further motorbikes and a couple of VW Golfs skidded to a halt.
Ollie reached for Louise’s hand. ‘Oh shit. This is it.’
Louise shook his hand away and called to her doormen: ‘Please help our guests into the hotel.’
The four doormen ran down the steps in their regulation black linen trousers and shirts, barged through the phalanx of flashing cameras and bodies – followed by Louise and Ollie, who was somewhat surprised to find himself being steered by Louise’s very strong hand in the small of his back.
The side door of
the people carrier slid open and Henrik emerged. Several cameras went off in his face. He flapped his hands about and swore at them, before leaning into the dark interior and offering his hand to a tiny woman dressed in skin-tight black leather trousers and a white silk blouse undone to her navel. One small breast, its nipple pierced with a glinting diamond, escaped for a moment and the cameras went wild. Her dramatically kohl-lined eyes sparkled mischievously and she ran a hand through her tomato-soup-coloured spiky hair.
‘Hi, guys – Red’s home!’ She posed and preened for a couple of minutes before finally spotting Ollie. She pointed a finger at him and beckoned him to her. The photographers parted to let him through.
‘And here’s my baby boy.’ She put her hands either side of Ollie’s face and kissed him deeply and fully. Again the flashing of cameras was like a mini-blitzkrieg.
Finally she pulled away. ‘Have you missed me, baby?’ She reached for his hand and placed it inside her shirt while simultaneously grabbing his crotch. ‘Hmm. I see you have!’
The photographers laughed and leered and took the picture.
‘How long you here for, Red?’ asked one of them.
‘As long as it takes. But now my boyf and I have a lotta catching up to do. Carry me, baby?’ She pulled on a cute little girl expression.
‘What?’ Ollie asked.
‘Carry your little Red to bed.’
She hung her arms around his neck and he was obliged to pick her up and carry her up the steps and into the hotel.
Several guests were gathered in the large hall, on their way to breakfast, and they broke into spontaneous applause as they watched the handsome actor carry the rebel rock star into the lift. As soon as the doors closed he put her down.
‘Are you tired?’ he asked her.
‘Not too tired.’ She leaned against him suggestively.
‘I’ve got a great room for you.’
‘Yeah? What’s the bed like?’
‘Comfy, I think.’
‘Good. I need some comfort, Ollie.’ She opened her blouse to expose her breasts. ‘Don’t you?’
*
Incredibly, Ollie was only six minutes late for rehearsal.
