[Churchminster #3] Wild Things (15 page)

‘“The pleasure was all mine”,’ mocked Calypso, as they pulled up in his sports car outside the pub. ‘What are you like?’

Rafe turned off the ignition. ‘I meant it. All the women in your family are perfectly charming.’

‘You haven’t met my mother yet!’ laughed Calypso, as she got out of the car. Tessa ‘Tink’ Standington-Fulthrope was a lively woman of fifty-two, who kept the family in uproar with her dirty jokes and stories.

Rafe gazed at her across the car roof. ‘Maybe I will one day.’

The pub was half-full as they entered, but it didn’t stop the excited whispers when they saw who Calypso was with. Jack Turner was on them like a flash. ‘Calypso, nice to see you,’ he said. He extended a hand to Rafe. ‘Jack Turner, pleasure to meet you. My daughter Stacey’s a big fan of yours. She’s got the day off today; she’ll be pulling her bleedin’ hair when she finds out you’ve been in.’

Rafe laughed. ‘Maybe I could sign something for her.’

Jack looked as pleased as Punch. ‘If you wouldn’t mind! Now, you folks go and make yourselves comfy and I’ll be with you shortly.’

They found a table for two in the corner. ‘Looks great,’ said Rafe, glancing at the chalkboard menu on the wall. He was doing a good job of ignoring the stares in his direction.

‘Pierre’s the chef here,’ Calypso said. ‘Jack poached him from a five-star Michelin restaurant a few years ago. Ruffled quite a few feathers in the culinary world, but people come from miles round to eat here now.’

‘I’m not surprised, it looks fantastic,’ Rafe said. He looked at the board again. ‘I’m going to have the oysters and steamed snapper.’

Calypso shot him a humorous look. ‘Watching your waistline?’

Rafe pulled a face. ‘You have no idea how tight those breeches I have to wear are. Your grandmother’s ginger thins may have given me a muffin top.’

Calypso allowed herself a little smile. He was actually quite funny. ‘Look, I think I owe you an apology. And a thank you. I’m sorry I was so rude to you after you helped me, I was in a bit of shock at the time.’

He grinned understandingly. ‘It didn’t help having the paparazzi turning up. Trust them to be driving past.’

Calypso was intrigued. ‘What did you say to them?’

‘Those particular two owed me a favour. They’d taken some other intrusive shots of me that I should really have complained about, but I let it go. I told them if they didn’t run the pictures, we’d be even. They’d missed most of the action, anyway.’

Calypso shook her head. ‘I don’t know how you put up with all that.’

Rafe shrugged. ‘I try not to.’

Jack came over with their drinks and set them down on the table. They toasted each other: gin and tonic for her, sparkling water for him.

‘Anyway, tell me more about yourself,’ Rafe said.

Calypso groaned. ‘Not me again! Let’s talk about you instead.’

Rafe took a sip of his water. ‘There’s nothing to tell really.’

‘Oh, come on, you’re hardly Barry from Bedlington are you?’ Calypso paused, tasting her drink. ‘What about your love life?’

‘There was someone in LA,’ he said. ‘But it’s over now.’ He didn’t volunteer anything else.

‘Nasty break-up?’ Calypso enquired. Rafe shrugged.

‘As break-ups go it was OK. But I don’t really like talking about it; it’s not fair on Daphne. Water under the bridge and all that.’ He changed the subject. ‘How about you? Any significant relationships?’

Their starters arrived. Calypso waited until the waitress had left. ‘There was someone,’ she said, loading her toasted bread with pate. ‘Sam. But it didn’t really work out, we wanted different things.’

‘Did he come from round here?’ Rafe asked.

‘She, actually.’

Rafe stopped, oyster halfway to his mouth. He looked startled. ‘She?’

‘Yeah,’ said Calypso wrily. ‘Does that offend you?’

Rafe recovered himself. ‘Of course not. I was just, well, surprised. I thought you’d be with some cool rock-band type.’

Calypso laughed. ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’

‘So you’re bisexual?’ He seemed quite interested.

‘I suppose if you had to define me, you could say
that,’
she said. ‘Sam’s the only woman I’ve ever dated, though, and I’ve had plenty of boyfriends. I guess I’m just inquisitive. Like, it doesn’t have to be about what sex you are, it’s about how attractive you are as a person.’

‘So would you date another woman?’

‘Don’t know,’ she replied, finishing the last of the pate. ‘Never say never and all that.’ Her eyes studied him mischievously. ‘How about you? Have you ever been with a man?’

‘God, no!’ Rafe exclaimed. ‘I mean I’ve got nothing against it but …’ He saw her expression and relaxed. ‘Ah. You’re pulling my leg.’

Calypso laughed. ‘I don’t think Stacey Turner would be able to cope if you swapped tits for testicles.’

After lunch, which Rafe insisted on paying for, he walked Calypso back to the cottage. He stopped at the gate. ‘Here we are again, then.’

‘Do you want to come in for a coffee?’ she asked, suddenly not wanting the afternoon to end.

Rafe glanced at his watch. ‘I need to get back. But I wouldn’t mind a quick guided tour.’

He followed Calypso up the path. She unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The cottage was silent. ‘My sister’s at work today,’ she explained. She briefly showed him the downstairs and the garden, which was now festooned with the summer flowers planted by Camilla. Leading Rafe back through to the hallway, Calypso paused by the staircase. She waved a hand upwards.

‘It’s just the bedrooms up there and stuff,’ she
mumbled
, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Why was she being like this?

Rafe glanced up the stairs before his eyes settled back on her. She noticed their blue looked darker today, fringed by golden lashes.

‘I’ve really got to go,’ he said softly.

Calypso tried to sound airy. ‘No problem.’

Neither of them made a move towards the front door.

Rafe took a step towards her. ‘I’ve had a really nice time today.’

Calypso felt her heart quicken. ‘Me, too.’

The air had suddenly become heavy and expectant. Calypso was sure she could
hear
her heart drumming. As if in slow motion, Rafe leant down and pecked her softly on the lips. Calypso felt like it wasn’t happening to her, like she was watching someone else feel the soft touch of a famous film star on their mouth.

‘I’d like to do this again,’ he said, pulling away.

‘Me, too,’ she said again. For some reason, she had lost the power of normal speech.

Rafe ran his hand down her arm. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

Trying to regain her composure, Calypso saw him out. Afterwards, she closed the front door and sat down heavily on the staircase. Her lips were still tingling. Calypso ran her fingers across her mouth. She was trying to quell the excitement building inside her.

‘My God,’ she exclaimed finally. ‘I’ve just been kissed by Rafe Wolfe!’

PART TWO

Chapter 21

IT WAS THE
day of the
Churchminster’s Got Talent
competition and the three judges were having a dress rehearsal. Clementine was nonplussed by the high-waisted trousers and black wig Calypso had brought along for her, and despite Calypso’s pleas, was refusing to wear them.

‘Granny Clem, it’ll be hysterical!’ Calypso said, holding the trousers up against her grandmother. The third judge, Freddie Fox-Titt, stifled a chortle.

Clementine was not for the turning. ‘I’m not going to make myself a laughing stock. Besides, I don’t even know who this Simon Powell character is.’

‘
Cowell
,’ Calypso corrected. The three were sitting behind a desk on a raised platform. Beryl Turner had lent one of her shiny gold tablecloths to drape over it and Ted Briggs had done a marvellous job of rigging up three buzzers.

Clementine was looking at hers uncomprehendingly. ‘How does it all work, again?’

‘The act starts, and if you don’t like it, you press your buzzer,’ Calypso told her. ‘Three buzzes, one from each of us, and they’re out. If they go through to the next round, they have to perform again, and the audience vote on the eventual winner.’

Clementine grimaced. ‘The buzzer idea seems awfully cruel.’

‘That’s showbiz, Granny Clem,’ Calypso laughed.

‘We won’t be merciless,’ Freddie said reassuringly. ‘Everyone has been practising so hard I’m sure they’ll be jolly good.’

‘Anyway, the bad ones are the best ones!’ Calypso said. She looked round the hall. ‘It looks pretty cool in here.’

The Garden Party had done a fantastic job of making it look atmospheric. A proper stage had been built with wings either side, which each act would enter from. A huge
Churchminster’s Got Talent
sign painted by Angie Fox-Titt and Camilla hung from the ceiling. Disco lights and a stereo had been placed at the side of the stage. The back of the village hall was crammed with seats: at least 150 people were expected to turn up. Posters advertising the event with the words ‘Sold Out’ were stuck all over the walls. A trestle table with the raffle prizes on for later had been put by the front door, so everyone could eye up the goodies when they came in.

Calypso turned to the other two. ‘Let’s have one more run-through …’

At No. 5 The Green, Camilla was getting ready. She checked her watch and frowned. Jed was late. She tried his mobile. It was picked up immediately.

‘I’m outside, I’ll be two secs.’ A few moments later he appeared in the doorway, breathing slightly heavily. He went straight over to the wardrobe and started stripping off. ‘Sorry I’m late. Brenda Briggs was having trouble with her boiler, and I went round to have a look at it after work. Took longer than expected.’

‘My hero,’ smiled Camilla, studying him. He’d lost weight. Already lean, Jed’s beautiful face was looking even more concave, his muscular torso sinewy to the point of showing off every muscle. ‘You need to take it easy, darling, you’re not invincible, you know.’

He looked up and smiled affectionately. ‘You don’t have to worry about me.’

The front door slammed shut beneath them and footsteps thundered up the stairs. Moments later, Calypso burst in the room. Now naked, Jed deftly stepped back behind the wardrobe door.

‘Calypso!’ Camilla protested. ‘You could at least have knocked.’

Her sister shot a cursory glance in the direction of the concealed Jed. ‘Whoops, sorry.’

She opened an expensive-looking bag with ‘Boutique Babylon’ written across it in looped writing and held up a gold-sequinned minidress. ‘What do you think?’

Camilla didn’t recognize the funky-looking label, but the dress was dazzling. ‘You’re going to look a million dollars!’

Calypso grinned. ‘Cost me an arm and a leg, but
sod
it. I haven’t bought anything new for ages.’ She bounded out of the room.

Jed chuckled as he reappeared. ‘Someone’s in a good mood at the moment.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Camilla perceptively. ‘I wonder if that has anything to do with a certain film star.’

Jed raised an eyebrow.

Camilla was bursting to tell him, despite Calypso swearing her to secrecy. Jed wouldn’t say anything, anyway. ‘They had a snog in the hallway the other day!’

‘
Here?
’

‘Yes! Can you believe it?’

Jed paused, taking the information in. ‘Knowing your sister I can, actually,’ he said. ‘Maybe we’ll be needing that red carpet after all.’

In her own bedroom Calypso hummed merrily as she rifled through her underwear drawer for a clean G-string. She
had
been feeling on top of the world the last few days. The sun was out, her business going from strength to strength. Yet deep down, Calypso knew the exact reason her mood was extra buoyant at the moment.

It had been nine days since Rafe had kissed her. He had sent her several texts since, perfectly pleasant ones, interested in what she had been up to. Calypso had taken a perverse pleasure in not replying to them immediately. Normally quite vocal about her love life, for some reason she hadn’t told anyone about her feelings, not even her sister. She couldn’t explain it, but in the few moments their lips had met, Calypso’s heart
had
done a complete flip, and it hadn’t quite settled since.

This is ridiculous, I’m acting like a giddy schoolgirl!
she thought. Calypso did
not
do giddy schoolgirl. At first, she had told herself it was the sheer novelty of the situation. After all, it wasn’t every day one had a snog with a famous film star in one’s hallway. Then she felt cross with herself for being so predictable and falling prey to Rafe’s evident charms. He wasn’t even her
type
. Clean living and clean-cut, Rafe Wolfe was definitely not Calypso’s idea of a good time.

And yet, despite all her attempts to write the situation off, there was one glaring obstacle in the way.

She absolutely fancied the pants off him.

By 7.55 p.m., the village hall was bursting at the seams. As she peered out from behind the wings, Clementine was delighted to see half the district had turned out. It was so good that one could count on everyone to rally round. As well as the residents of Churchminster, she recognized a few faces from the Bedlington Bridge Association and a fair few young people. To her surprise there were also some film crew (as Calypso had warned her), including Pam Viner, who smiled and waved from her seat in the audience. In spite of herself, Clementine felt rather flattered; she applauded any efforts to integrate with a new community.