Ollie’s MG had its top off today and was growling its way to Pendruggan through the lanes. Jess couldn’t remember when she had last felt so relaxed. With Ryan she had always been slightly on edge, never quite knowing whether she had pleased him or pissed him off. Ollie was so much easier. He had barely left her side since the night of champagne and salmon and Bette Davis.
The next morning they had woken up with crisps in the bed but no other discomfort. No heavy discussions. No need to spell things out. They were together and that was that.
When they went to work that night, Ollie had insisted that they walk into the theatre together. He held her hand while they made their coffees in the green room and he kissed her lips when she went to get ready. All this was witnessed by their colleagues and universally, tacitly, happily blessed. Well. Almost.
While Jess was alone in her dressing room, she received a visit from Jonathan.
‘What’s going on with you and Ollie?’ he asked, covering up the hurt in his voice with an accusatory tone.
‘What’s the problem? We’re two consenting adults. I didn’t think we needed to ask permission.’
‘You’ve just gone through a really painful break-up. You’re not ready.’
‘Says who?’
‘A decent man would have given you a bit of space before moving in on you. Ollie is way too insecure to give you what you need. You need someone more solid. Besides, if something goes wrong, it could be very bad for the production.’
‘Well, if that happens, feel free to come to my dressing room and give me a bollocking. Right now, I’m busy – curtain call’s in ten minutes.’
When she heard, Brooke was surprised: ‘I’d never have put you two together, but now I see it … it’s just right.’
Jess had hugged her and thanked her and then asked about Louis. Ollie had told her the news.
Brooke was upset but sanguine. ‘He rang this morning, which was sweet of him. He couldn’t talk for long. The family firm have decided that he’s had his fun in the real world but now they want him to face up to who he is. He’s jacking in the photo journalism. He’s jacking me in. Now the castle gates are clanging behind him.’
‘Poor guy. What a future,’ sighed Jess.
‘Yeah, but look at the positives: endless opportunities, flunkies, gorgeous, suitable princesses throwing themselves at him …’
‘You gave him more fun than any old princess ever would.’
Brooke smiled ruefully. ‘I hope so … Anyway, cheers to Prince Louis!’ She raised her mug of tea. ‘And up yours, Ryan!’ She raised her mug again.
Jess couldn’t help but laugh.
*
And now she was looking at Ollie’s dear profile as he concentrated on driving. His left hand reached for the gear stick as he took a narrow corner and then searched for her thigh, which he gently squeezed. ‘You OK?’ he asked.
Her hair was blowing on her face and as she reached up to grab it into a ponytail she nodded to him, her smiling eyes letting him know the answer.
The village had turned out in force and Jess, Brooke, Ollie and Colonel Stick were treated like stars.
Jonathan had kept things on a strictly business footing with Jess and Ollie since he’d found out, but even so he took pride in standing back and watching his cast charm everyone that Penny and Helen introduced them to.
Brooke had been in the village long enough to have met most of the locals already, and thanks to the time they’d spent rehearsing in the church hall while fire-damage to the Pavilions was repaired, the rest of the cast had encountered Mrs Audrey Tipton and were doing their best to steer well clear of her. Both she and Mr Audrey Tipton were easy to spot in their matching red sailing trousers and Guernsey jumpers; in Geoffrey’s case this ensemble had been accessorised with a jaunty sailing cap, three sizes too small, balanced on his wiry grey hair.
Queenie, the old village shopkeeper, was another familiar face as a result of her volunteer work in the box office, but the cast had never seen her in her off-duty attire: a full-skirted original 1950s sundress and white peep-toe stilettos. Though she was wobbling a bit on the precarious heels, it didn’t seem to be preventing her doing a brisk trade on her Cornish pasty stall.
At the stall next to hers, Tony Brown – or Simple Tony as he was affectionately known to the locals, many of whom relied on his green-fingered expertise in their own gardens and vegetable plots – was selling tomato plants and runner beans.
Psychic Polly came out of her tent just as Penny and her retinue were walking by.
‘Ask me your future and I shall show you the way,’ said Polly, making the delegation laugh. ‘Come on, Colonel – I see a golden future for you. Cross my palm and I’ll tell you more.’
‘That’s awfully sweet of you, Polly, but not my cup of tea, you know. Better for the ladies, I think. How about young Brooke here?’
Brooke was eager to give it a go and followed Polly into the candy-striped tent while the others moved on.
‘Sit down, my dear,’ said Polly kindly. ‘Crystal, palm or cards – which do you fancy?’
Brooke stuck out her hands. ‘Palms, please.’
*
‘And to judge the dogs in fancy dress contest, would you please welcome our very own Colonel Walter Irvine!’ Mr Audrey Tipton had not let go of the microphone all afternoon and had no plans to do so in the foreseeable future. Without waiting for the applause to die down, he began booming over the PA system: ‘Dogs and owners to the centre of the show ring, if you please.’
The show ring was a small affair but big enough for the four dogs and humans who assembled there. There was a pug dressed as Rhett Butler, a spaniel as Cameron Diaz in
There’s Something about Mary
, a black Labrador as Will Smith and finally, an arthritic greyhound as Audrey Hepburn in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.
The Colonel made a good show of talking at length to each dog and owner about their choices and costumes. Just as he was getting to Audrey Hepburn there was a small flurry by the microphone and Mr Audrey Tipton made a fresh announcement:
‘This is most irregular, but as a gesture of goodwill I am accepting three late entrants to the competition. You may enter the ring!’
Helen and Piran then walked in with Ethel and Elsie dressed as
Hats Off, Trevay!
chorus girls, and Jack as Colonel Stick. The crowd roared with laughter. Rhett Butler immediately trotted off to mount Ethel, who sat down very firmly. Jack barked furiously, his straw boater falling fetchingly over his left ear. Rhett sloped back to his embarrassed owner.
Colonel Irvine continued his judging with enormous dignity and after a short deliberation gave the prize of a huge bone to Will Smith.
All dogs got runner-up bags of treats and Jack made sure he shared his with Elsie, for whom he had a soft spot.
The actors were loath to tear themselves away, but the time had come for them to return to the theatre. By this time the real fun was just beginning. The beer tent was heaving, the local boys got some guitars together and started an impromptu gig, and Penny went to have her fortune told, just for a bit of fun, by Polly.
*
Since Jess and Ollie had got together they had split their time between sleeping at Granny’s Nook and the Starfish
.
Brooke loved having them around, but it was getting a little tiresome never knowing when she’d have the place to herself so that she could lie in the bath with a face pack on, or walk around naked without worrying about anyone barging in on her.
She’d been waiting and waiting for the right moment to broach the topic with Jess, but now she’d reached the point where it couldn’t be put off any longer. As she stepped out of her final costume she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone, ‘Are you coming home tonight, Jessie?’
‘I’m not sure. Depends on how tired Ollie is. Why?’
‘I’d just like to know so that I can do things I need to do.’
‘Like what?’
‘You know … just things. Things it’s good to do on your own.’
‘I didn’t know you needed to do things on your own.’
‘Not major things. Just stuff that … hey, let’s not get into an argument.’
‘We’re not having an argument.’ Jess brushed her hair just a little too vigorously. ‘Maybe I’ve been insensitive. Is it difficult seeing Ollie and me together when you’re …’
Brooke pursed her lips. ‘When I’m single?’
‘No. I just mean … I’m sorry if I’ve been so wrapped up in my own happiness that I haven’t taken your feelings into consideration.’
Brooke started to pull on her jeans. ‘All I’m saying is, it’s nice to know when I have the cottage to myself so that if I feel like burping loudly, I can. That’s all.’ She yanked the zip of her jeans up huffily.
‘All right,’ said Jess, mystified that this silly tiff had come from nowhere. ‘I’ll stay with Ollie tonight and you can have some burping space.’
‘Good. Thanks.’
‘And tomorrow we’ll go through diaries and fix nights I’m there and nights I’m not.’
‘Right.’ Brooke picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. ‘See you tomorrow night then.’
‘Oh, I was thinking I might come back tomorrow to do some laundry.’
‘OK. But let me know, would you?’
‘Sure. I’ll call you.’
‘Thanks. Night.’ And Brooke walked out, closing the dressing door just a little too loudly.
‘Night,’ said Jess.
‘Maybe she’s premenstrual,’ said Ollie. They were sharing a bath at the hotel and Ollie had gallantly taken the tap end. ‘Or not getting enough how’s your father.’ He took a swig of his ice-cold gin and tonic.
Jess was not amused. ‘How very New Man of you. Why do men always think that if a woman is upset it’s something to do with her womb?’
‘Eugh. Please. I hate that kind of talk.’
‘Womb. Womb. Womb. Period.’ With each word she flicked soapsuds at him. He at least had the grace to laugh.
‘Brooke will be fine. She’s had a tough year. Remember all the trouble she had with losing the Café Au Lait contract and being dumped by Bob the rugger bugger. Now she’s lost the RB …’
‘RB?’
‘Royal Boyfriend.’
Jess took a deep glug of her gin and tonic. ‘You’re right. I haven’t been a very good friend to her, have I?’
Ollie’s mobile phone started to ring in the bedroom.
‘You’ve been a brilliant friend.’ He heaved himself out of the steaming water, leaving it to lap over Jess’s chin. She watched him wrap a towel around his gorgeous physique before he set off to answer the call.
‘He-llo?’
Jess listened, wondering who would phone him this late. She hoped it wasn’t something wrong with his mother.
‘Where are you?’
The urgent tone of his voice sent anxiety coursing down her spine.
‘No! Don’t come up. Give me five minutes and I’ll come down … I’m in the bath … just wait where you are …’
Jess stayed where she was and waited to hear what he was going to tell her.
He came into the bathroom looking very uncomfortable.
‘Darling Jess, I’m sorry to do this to you, but would you mind leaving and going back to Granny’s Nook tonight?’
‘Why?’
He rubbed his hands through his hair, looking miserable. ‘It’s Red. She’s in the lobby. Very upset. I have to go to her.’
‘No you don’t.’
‘Please don’t make this difficult.’
‘Difficult? What’s difficult? Maybe Ryan’ll call in a minute and I’ll go off to see him. How would that make you feel?’
Ollie was looking utterly wretched now. ‘Darling, please. Let me just sort this out and we’ll talk tomorrow.’
*
Jess put her key in the lock of the ancient front door to Granny’s Nook. Brooke was sitting on the sofa with her hair in cling film, painting her toenails. She looked up in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I
can’t believe it! I thought Ollie had more backbone than to run back to Red the minute she clicks her fingers!’ Brooke was angrier than Jess. ‘After all that’s happened. How horrible she’s been. How great you two have been together. It’s unbelievable.’
Jess was more philosophical. ‘He’s a young man. Red’s a very sexy young girl. What can you do?’ She shrugged her shoulders and dipped her hand into the family-size bag of Twiglets.
‘What the bloody hell is she doing back in Trevay anyway?’
‘He’ll tell me tomorrow, he said.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘Well, he’s not going to do a runner, is he? And I can’t see Red hanging around here for too long.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’
*
After a fitful night’s sleep, Jess woke early and took the dogs down to the beach. What a year this had turned out to be. A hit TV show, getting engaged, saving a theatre, getting unengaged, acquiring a toyboy and now … What? She checked her phone. Nothing. She had made a promise to herself not to call Ollie.
As she stood at the top of the beach she saw a familiar figure with a small Jack Russell bounding in and out of the waves. Ethel and Elsie had seen them too and scooted off to say hello.
‘Mornin’,’ said Piran, his black curls dancing in the wind.
‘Good morning. The Pendruggan fête went well, didn’t it?’
‘Aye.’
For all his buccaneer good looks, Piran was a lousy conversationalist. Jess couldn’t help wondering how Helen put up with him.
She tried again. ‘How’s Helen? It was good of her to have the girls while I toured the stalls with “the team” yesterday.’
He grunted, picked up a stone and threw it into the sea for Jack to retrieve. The little terrier ignored him; his whiskered nose was busily sniffing Elsie’s posterior. Piran got his boot under Jack’s chest and lifted him out of the way. ‘She don’t want you sniffin’ round, boy.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Jess smiled. ‘A good-looking boy like Jack must have a lot of success with the ladies.’
‘Yeah, but ’e hasn’t the money to support any offspring.’
Jess laughed again. ‘But how sweet would they be?’
‘You sound like my Helen. Always wanting a happy ending with fluffy little bunnies. Life ain’t like that.’
His words stung Jess. The reality of losing Ryan and now Ollie hit her afresh. Not wanting this great oaf of a man to see the tears in her eyes, she turned her face to the wind and whistled up the girls. ‘Come on, girls. I need a cup of tea.’