Beneath Beautiful (5 page)

“She said you've been looking for inspiration. For a while now. The thing is, Cassie, I think it might have come knocking on your door.”

C
assie let herself into her grandmother's apartment, locked the door behind her, and immediately sank into the sofa.

She had been all right up until now—busy saying goodbye to the children, getting to Kings Cross on time, waiting for a cab at Gare du Nord . . . But as soon as she had stepped inside the cab and started the journey back to her grandmother's apartment and the inevitable phone call, her mind had begun to wander.

Maybe. Maybe this is how it had happened, that day in Père Lachaise
.

“Excuse me.” There was a crunch of gravel, and a couple squeezed by them. “Wait, wasn't that . . .” Cassie caught the woman's voice as they moved on. It took several moments for everything to pull together through the haze, then . . .

“I know who you are,” Cassie said, using up the last vestiges of air in her body.

“Who am I?” Cameron asked her.

“You know very well.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I suppose we could go on like this all day, or . . .” Cameron stepped forward, taking Cassie by the waist, and brought her to him.

It had taken the cab driver two “
Mademoiselle
!”s to rouse her from her daydream. When she had finally gotten inside, there was none of the fuss and fun of Jo's house. Only silence. Ominous silence. And the telephone, staring at her from over there in the corner.

After some time, Cassie got up and walked over to it. She had left Cameron's card in a small bowl near the phone, not wanting it with her over the weekend. Not wanting the temptation to look at it, or to call earlier.

The card was still there, the ink still black and perfectly legible. She picked it up, feeling the stock quality once more, and ran her fingers over the hastily scribbled number.

“Do it. Just call. Call.” She broke the silence in the apartment by speaking out loud. “Call.” She picked up the phone. “Call,” she said even more sternly as she dialed the number.

When it began to ring, she almost hurled the phone across the room in fright.

“Hello?” a voice answered. His voice. Cameron. Cameron Callahan. “Hello?” he said again. Wherever he was, it was noisy. A party? A restaurant? Cassie wasn't sure. “Hello? Who is it?”

Startled, Cassie realised she needed to speak now. “Cameron, it's Cassie.”

“Wait a second, wait a second . . .” he said, and after a moment or two the noise died down. “Sorry about that. It's good to hear from you, Cassie. I wasn't sure you'd call.”

“Well, here I am. Calling.”

“Yes.”

“Are you back in Paris?”

“Yes.” It was all she could manage.

“Ah, I was hoping you might still be in London. That's where I am, actually. Just for a few days.”

“Oh.”

Quiet fell over the line.

Cassie urged herself on. “The thing is, I wanted to say . . . that is . . .”

“Yes?” he encouraged her.

Cassie reached down and dug her nails into her jeans in order to distract herself. “The thing is, I think I'd like to say yes to your offer as long as . . .” She paused for a much-needed breath, her heart racing as if the sentence had been a marathon.

“As long as . . .”

Cassie closed her eyes, which was a mistake, because with his voice in her ear she immediately imagined that scene in the cemetery once more, his warm hands under her shirt. Instantly aroused, she quickly opened her eyes again and told herself to concentrate. To just say what she had to say. “As long as I'm comfortable with what's happening. You did say that. The other day. That I would be comfortable. And in control. “

“I did. And I meant it.”

“I just don't want to be pushed to do anything that isn't . . . well, me.”

“Which would be pointless. I really do hope you see that. Because the thing is, it's all about you. You, and only you. And it will be amazing, Cassie. Amazing. You'll see.”

“D
o you think I could borrow your car?” Cassie asked Jo the following morning. “For a week or so?”

“You're coming over to London again?” Jo sounded confused.

“I think so.”

“Wait, is this to do with Cameron Callahan?” Jo's voice quickened.

“Maybe. Yes.”

“Oh, God, then definitely yes. It'll put the value on the thing right up, won't it? Anyway, it will be good for it. You know it rarely gets a good outing.”

This was true. Despite now having two young children, Jo couldn't part with her shiny red Mini Cooper S.
My body might have let me down, and my brain might be going after watching too much children's TV, but I still have my cute car. Even if I can't fit half of what I need in it
, Jo liked to say. “So, what's happening that you need a car? Where are you going? What are you doing, and whom will you be doing it to?”

Cassie bit her lip for a moment, wondering how much to tell. Cameron had called her around an hour ago, and had suggested they have a short break in England. “To get to know each other better,” he'd said. He'd also said his personal assistant would help arrange and pay for wherever Cassie felt like going, but she'd felt odd about this for some reason, and said she'd arrange things herself. What she hadn't let on was how she'd known exactly where she would take Cameron the moment he'd mentioned her showing him “her England” in the café the other day. The thought of taking someone she barely knew there shocked her slightly—it was a personal place for her. But for some reason it felt right. And she knew that if she took him anywhere less personal, he would see right through her in a heartbeat.

“We're going somewhere in England. I'm not sure where yet.” She lied to her sister, not really knowing why she was doing so. Perhaps because it was also a personal place for Jo, and Cassie didn't want to upset her.

There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment Cassie panicked, thinking her sister knew she wasn't telling her the whole truth. Finally, Jo spoke again. “You're sure you want to do this?”

Honestly, Cassie had no idea. Only time would tell, she supposed. “If I'm not sure, I'll pull out.”

“Hmmm . . .” Jo put her best “big sister” voice on. “Well, if you have my car, at least you'll be able to make a quick getaway if you need to. Now, when did you want to pick it up?”

T
he next call Cassie made was to an old friend of the family, Derwa, who ran a charming B&B that Cassie loved to run away to whenever it was possible. It being autumn, and with school being in, Cassie hoped Derwa would have rooms (plural) available. And as it turned out, she did. That arranged, Cassie rang Cameron back once more.

“It's all sorted,” she said, rather smugly.

“That was quick. Where are we going?”

Should she tell him? No. “It's a surprise. I'll pick you up at your hotel tomorrow. It's Brown's, isn't it? Let's say ten a.m.”

“Let's say eleven a.m. and let's say we both wear dark glasses, and you bring aspirin in some form. I have a dinner tonight, and it's sure to be raucous.”

Cassie's eyes widened. “I hope you don't expect raucous dinners where we're going.”

“I expect exactly the opposite,” Cameron countered.

It was then that Cassie first appreciated the fact that it might not be so easy for her to run away from Cameron Callahan now in the way she had done just a few days before.

B
e there in ten. Red Mini. Best amputate your legs now.
Cassie had texted Cameron roughly twenty minutes ago, underestimating the London traffic, especially on Savile Row where several tourists seemed to want to die on their trip to London by jumping in front of the car.

“Be good!” Jo had waved her off from Primrose Hill after she'd spent the night there, nestled between her boxes in the spare room (she really needed an apartment, and soon). “And if you can't be good, be careful!”

“I'll try!” Cassie had called back, struggling with the manual car. She'd never owned a car herself, and it had been some time since she'd driven Jo's. She'd been evasive when it came to telling her sister and brother-in-law where she and Cameron were off to, saying she “wasn't entirely sure”, but that she'd keep her phone charged and at the ready, and her running shoes nearby. You know, just in case.

Finally, she made it to Brown's in one piece, bringing the car to a stop in front of the iconic hotel's solid pillars and polished gold signage. The top-hatted doorman seemed to recognise the car and began to step forwards, but as he did so Cameron came barreling through the door, carrying his own traveling bag, which was slung over one shoulder (it was a smart looking piece made of black leather, Cassie noted). He paused a moment and spoke to the doorman, pressing something into his hand.

He then made his way over to the car, crouching down to speak to her through the now open passenger window. “Going my way?”

“I might be,” Cassie said, staring into his dark sunglasses. She popped a button. “Throw your bag in the boot.”

“The trunk, the boot . . . I just love all those differences in speech. Think it will fit?” Cameron eyed off the tiny car. He pushed himself upright, and went around to the back of the car. It obviously did, because he came back again bag-less and began to attempt to tuck himself into the passenger seat.

“I know. I'm sorry. I've put the seat back as far as it will go. I did tell you to amputate your legs . . .”

“I didn't think Brown's would appreciate the mess.”

“Mmm,” Cassie said, programming an address into the car's satnav.

“And before you start, I do know that tipping the doorman at Brown's isn't the done thing in your country. A friend told me that during my last stay.”

“Did I say anything? I don't think so.”

Cameron ignored her. “You see, he did a little sorting out of a stray paparazzo for me yesterday, for which I was grateful.”

“Right.” Cassie gulped, thinking of her father. “And he or she hasn't come back?”

“No.”

“Well, good. And quite right of you, then. Now, do you have all of your limbs? We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.” The satnav duly programmed, she checked her mirrors for cars and pulled out. “So you're not too hung-over? I did grab some aspirin on my way out of my sister's house this morning. Just in case.”

“I've already partaken in everything a pharmacy might have to offer me. But thank you very much.”

“Big night?” Cassie glanced over as the satnav began to direct her toward the M4.

“Yes. Oversized.”

“Well, you might want to have a nap, then. It's going to take us about four hours to get where we're going.”

“Where are we going? Scotland?”

“What? It would take a little bit longer than four hours to get to Scotland.”

“Really? I thought you could drive around this whole tiny island in two or three at the most.”

Cassie threw him a look. “Americans. Always exaggerating.”

But Cameron just grinned as he settled back into his seat. “Yes. Especially when it comes to size.”

I
t wasn't long before Cameron dropped off to sleep, intermittently waking up and apologizing for being terrible company.

“It's all right,” Cassie told him, time and time again. “You're better off sleeping now and being awake when we get there.”

She could only imagine what the dinner he'd been at the night before had been like.

After a good three hours on the road, Cassie took the nearest services exit and ran into a Tesco Express for supplies.

“Cameron?” she attempted to rouse him before she left, but he was sound asleep.

She picked up a couple of sandwiches and coffees, Cameron's slowly turning cold as they continued on their way to their destination.

“We're almost there.” Cassie shook Cameron's arm as she slowly steered the car through the final few streets that would lead to her favourite B&B.

“What? Really?” Cameron said groggily, sitting up in his seat. When he saw his surroundings, however, he sat up even further. “What the . . .” He looked out one side of the car, then the other. “You've got to be joking.”

“Weren't we just talking about size?” Cassie grinned. If she'd opened both windows, the pair could have reached out and touched the whitewashed walls on either side of the car.

“Where on earth are we?” Cameron took in their surroundings with wide eyes.

“Cornwall. Trust me. They do everything differently here. Including their streets.”

“But what if someone comes the other way?” Cameron shook his head as they rounded yet another bend.

Cassie shrugged. “Then one of us backs up. Hopefully them. And now you see the advantage of the tiny car with the reverse sensors.”

“I do,” Cameron said, slowly.

“Anyway, it's just up this hill.” Cassie put her foot down, taking them out into a wider, more realistic street, “and around this bend, and . . .” Finally she pulled into a small graveled car park with four spaces. “. . . we're here!”.

“In Cornwall,” Cameron repeated as Cassie turned the car off.