Escape for the Summer (17 page)

Moments later a black Bentley pulled up and the girl stepped inside, to be chauffeured off into the summer night. As it purred past the girl gazed out, a broad smile on her pretty face.

Andi gasped. No way! It couldn’t be! It was impossible.

“Andi,” said Jonty gently. “I don’t want to make you feel awkward but why are you gripping my arm?”

Andi’s mouth was dry. She was still taken aback by what she’d just witnessed. “That girl,” she said slowly. “The one who just came in from the sea?”

“From the Sunseeker? Yes, I saw. Pretty hard to ignore really! Why? Do you know her?”

Andi nodded. “You could say so. That was my sister, Angel!”

Chapter 16

Angel was on top of the world. Not only had she just had a fantastic evening drinking champagne and eating delicate crab thermidor on board the most sumptuous powerboat imaginable, but Vanya had insisted she keep the designer dress and shoes she’d been loaned for the evening. The moment her feet alighted on the gleaming deck, Angel had been transported into another realm, and it was one in which she very much wished to remain! From soaking neck-deep in a bath of Floris-scented bubbles to sipping Cristal beneath twinkling fairy lights, Angel knew this was where she was meant to be. The girl who had stared back at her from the illuminated mirror as a maid tweaked her hair into an elaborate chignon – the girl who was wearing designer clothes and shoes – was glossy and groomed and already had that wealthy glow about her.

That girl did so
not
belong in a caravan!

Unfortunately for Angel, though, for now a caravan was exactly where that girl did belong. Once the Bentley purred away into the night she slipped off her Louboutins – there was no way she was risking scratching those iconic red soles – and hobbled up the stony path to the decrepit static. God, what a skip! Even in the dark Angel could tell that the caravan was ancient and smothered in a thick layer of green slime. Was this really the best that Gemma could come up with? Thank goodness she’d already drilled her friend not to give their address away to anyone! Angel made a mental note to do the same with Andi, although she had a feeling her sister wouldn’t be nearly as obliging. Andi would be totally confused as to why appearances mattered so greatly. Things like this didn’t register at all on her radar; she simply didn’t get it.

It was just as well one of them did, Angel decided, otherwise this entire exercise would be a waste of time. She was pretty pleased with her own achievements, and all in less than twenty-four hours too! So far she’d made friends with the Alexshovs, enjoyed dinner on a superyacht and, when Vanya discovered that Angel was a beauty therapist, been offered oodles of work. OK, so going back to waxing and plucking wasn’t
quite
part of the master plan, but it would pay some bills and hopefully put her in the right places. Angel was under no illusions about the importance of giving the right impression, and her arrival into Rock in a crewed tender and sporting designer clothes had been a real coup. She may have given the impression of nonchalance but inside she’d been shrieking with excitement,
Look at me!
And they had looked too!

She paused on the piled-up paving slabs that doubled as a step for the caravan, reluctant to break the spell of her amazing evening. Once inside, the Bentley would be a pumpkin, the suited waiters mice and her stunning dress jeans and a vest. And as for the handsome prince...

Angel wrapped her slender arms around her body and shivered with delicious anticipation. Of course there was a handsome prince, that went without saying, but she didn’t think she would have identified him quite so soon or that he would have been quite so gorgeous. She’d noticed him earlier on that afternoon when she was in The Wharf Café with Gemma but had deliberately played it cool because it never did to show your hand too soon, did it? She’d felt his gaze burning into the back of her neck, so hot that on a trip to the Ladies she’d caught herself checking for scorch marks. On her way back to their table she’d checked him out from behind the safety of her Oakleys, running through her mental checklist. Expensive watch, check. Designer shades, check. Glass of champagne, check. Decked out head to toe in Hugo Boss, check. LV man bag, check. So far it had all been so good. The fob for his car keys was Montblanc but she couldn’t decipher the brand of car without craning her neck and being totally obvious. What she had noticed though was the small crested signet ring he wore on the little finger of his right hand.

Titled? Rich? Possibly. In any case it was looking very promising. But something else made her heart pick up pace. She hugged her arms closer and allowed herself to dwell on his features for a little longer: the sharp cheekbones, the thick sweep of toffee-coloured hair, the soft skin of his neck...

One thing was for certain: he was gorgeous, whoever he was.

Still, there was more to Project Rich Guy than looks, so she had studiously ignored him, even to the point of leaving the café and going to Padstow. But, as luck would have it, when the tender had dropped her back to shore he happened to be parked up by the slipway in the sexiest Aston Martin convertible imaginable. It had taken every ounce of self-control Angel possessed not to look in his direction when every cell in her body was frantic to drink in a glimpse of his haughty hawklike profile. When the Bentley pulled up she had swept past him as though oblivious, a feat of willpower that she hadn’t even known she possessed.

Thank God he hadn’t seen the reality of her life in Rock, Angel thought with relief as she leaned her shoulder against the sagging door and shoved her way inside the caravan. A sex-on-a-stick loaded guy like him wouldn’t be seen dead with a girl from a trailer park, that was for sure. And Angel knew that, whoever this guy was, he would want to see her again. Men always did. It was practically a law of physics.

If Angel had felt like Cinderella beforehand, entering the caravan really did make her feel as though the clock had struck midnight. Gone were the ankle-deep carpets, gleaming mahogany woodwork and trembling notes from the baby grand piano: they’d been replaced with curling lino, peeling plastic and the blast of Pirate FM.
The living space – which was a contradiction in terms, since there was barely enough
“
space” to swing a gerbil – was piled high with their suitcases and bin bags; the kitchen sink was overflowing with dirty washing-up and the work surfaces were liberally dusted with flour. In the midst of all this chaos stood Gemma, oblivious to her friend’s arrival, putting the finishing touches to an enormous sponge cake. It was oozing with thick yellow clotted cream and luscious strawberry jam; Angel’s arteries were hardening just looking at it.

Angel groaned. She was used to Gemma’s cooking frenzies and the destruction to the kitchen that followed. Angel was generally fine with all of that because Gemma was a fantastic cook and her cakes were to die for, but this wasn’t the point of being in Rock! The whole purpose of their visit had been to make a fresh start. For Gemma this meant going on a serious diet and losing a good couple of stone. That she was baking already, and only within a few hours of arrival, was a very bad sign indeed.

“Angel! You made me jump!” Gemma gasped, spinning round and placing a hand against her ample chest. There was a smudge of flour across the bridge of her nose and her thick golden curls were piled up on the top of her head and secured with a rubber band. The telltale glimmer of sugar around her mouth suggested that, as always, Gemma had been sampling her cooking. “Wow,” she added when she took in Angel’s new attire. “You look amazing! Where on earth did you get those clothes?”

“Long story,” Angel told her, plopping herself down on the couch and leaping back up when a spring skewered her bottom. “Ouch!”

“Oh yeah, watch that seat,” Gemma said apologetically. “It’s a bit knackered.”

“So’s my bum now,” said Angel. Sitting down gingerly, she curled her long legs underneath her. “Gem, what’s going on here? I thought you were going to diet?”

“I am,” said Gemma, with her back to Angel as she returned her full attention to carefully positioning strawberries on the top of her masterpiece.

Angel raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows. Talk about being in denial! “So what’s with the cake?”

Gemma turned round. Her face was bright with excitement. “This isn’t for me! It’s for Callum South.”

Angel stared at her. “Callum South? But isn’t he supposed to be on a major health kick?”

Gemma nodded. “Yes, but it’s making him miserable. What he really wants is cake, and lots of it.”

“Have you been drinking?”

Gemma laughed. “Only Diet Coke, I promise. You’re not going to believe this, but I have had the craziest afternoon.”

As she continued to decorate the cake Gemma told Angel all about her meeting with Cal. With every detail that passed her friend’s lips, Angel felt more excited. What were the odds of this meeting happening? She could hardly believe Gemma’s good luck. As far as Angel was concerned, this was even more proof that their summer adventure had been an inspired move.

“We’ll have to track him down,” she said firmly. “Once we know where he lives you can take the cake over. If he likes grub as much as he seems to, there’s no way he’ll resist a cake like that. You’ll be made!”

“I already know where he’s staying.” Cake completed, Gemma stood back and admired her handiwork. “One of the ladies in the bakery told me. They had no idea who he was, can you believe it, but they did know that he was staying in that big glass place off the Rock Road. Do you know the one I mean?”

Angel nodded. A brand new architect-designed pile, all ceiling-to-floor windows with breathtaking views of the estuary, it was pretty hard to miss.

“I thought I’d pop over tomorrow and apologise,” Gemma explained. “At least then I’ll have done my best to make up for knocking him flying. Then I’ll give him the cake as a thank you. But enough of me, what on earth have you been up to?”

Angel smiled. “Pour us both a glass of wine and I’ll tell you all about it.”

So Gemma ignored the washing-up, stowed her cake in a brand new Tupperware box and fetched a bottle of white from the fridge. It was passably cold and soon they were busy working their way through it while Angel told Gemma all about her day. Gemma’s face was a study in disbelief.

“Honestly, there’s one rule for the beautiful people, who fall on their feet at every turn, and another for the rest of us, who keep tripping up!” she said, when Angel finally came to the end of her story.

Angel laughed. “Tripping Cal up is probably the best thing you could have done! At least now you’ve had an introduction.”

Gemma wasn’t convinced. “Even if he hates me?”

“Of course he doesn’t hate you,” said Angel. At least, she hoped he didn’t, because that would seriously bugger up Gemma’s chances of reality TV stardom. “Anyway, at least you’ve made an impression.”

“Even if it’s a bad one?” Gemma looked doubtful.

“At least he knows you exist,” said Angel firmly. In her book it was always a good thing to be noticed. Going undetected was her worst nightmare. “That’s the first hurdle over. Now you’ve figured out that cake is the way to Cal’s heart it’ll all be plain sailing!”

“I hope so,” Gemma said. If not, she could kiss goodbye to her agent and her career.

“Now all we need to do is get Andi sorted,” Angel concluded. “Which may be easier said than done.”

There was a sudden flare of brightness as full-beam headlights swept up to the caravan, illuminating every inch of tired lino and faded upholstery. A car door slammed and the murmur of voices broke the stillness. Pulling aside a grimy net curtain, Gemma peered outside. Then she turned back to Angel, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Sorting Andi may well be easier than you think,” she said.

Angel stared at her. “Really?”

Gemma nodded excitedly. “Really. You won’t believe this, Angel, but your sister has just rocked up and she’s not alone. She’s with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen!”

Chapter 17

When Andi woke up the next morning it took her a few moments to work out where she was. A beam of bright sunshine sliced through faded yellow cheesecloth curtains and filled the room with lemony light, while a breeze sweet with summer grass kissed her cheeks. The incessant rumble of city traffic she was used to had been replaced with the cry of gulls, and for a split second she was thirteen again and tucked up in her attic bedroom at Ocean View
with days and days of school holidays ahead of her. The leaping of her heart when she realised that she really was in Rock – and that Tom, London and the whole hideous mess had been left behind – was on a par with that start-of-the-summer joy.

Andi stretched luxuriously in her narrow bunk, bathing in the sunshine like a cat and loving the cool breeze that swept in beneath the curtains. Although the mattress was hard and the covers a little on the damp side, her sleep had been sweet and heavy, as though the salty air had drugged her. As she stretched and yawned she realised that this was the first night for a while that she hadn’t woken up with her heart rate doing a tango. Getting away had been the right thing to do. Andi just hoped that this was the start of her being able to sort her life out.

Across the small room a shape huddled under the blankets muttered and sighed to itself: Angel was fast asleep and, Andi knew from experience, dead to the world for hours yet. Checking her watch she saw that it was only half past six. Still, the day outside was far too beautiful to waste in bed. With a feeling of excitement fizzing inside her like shaken-up Coke, she grabbed her clothes from the neat pile by her bed and headed for the bathroom.

She might as well have been trying to shower in a wardrobe, and the water was just a half‐hearted lukewarm trickle, but in spite of that Andi  soon felt refreshed and ready for anything the day had to offer. Dressed in cut-off denims and a green vest top, and with a coffee in hand, she perched on the caravan step and raised her face to the sunshine. Although early, it was already warm and the sky was deep blue and brimming with the promise of a hot day. Andi sipped her drink and enjoyed the birdsong. Honestly, she couldn’t believe their luck in finding such a tranquil spot. It had been pitch black when Jonty had dropped her back at the caravan and, once the girls had finished interrogating her about him, she’d almost passed out from exhaustion. She certainly hadn’t been able to explore her surroundings. Now that the sun was up and the other two were still sound asleep it was a different matter.