Read Escape for the Summer Online
Authors: Ruth Saberton
Tags: #Estate, #Cornwall, #Beach, #angel, #Love, #Newquay, #Cornish, #Marriage, #Padstow, #celebrity, #Romantic Comedy, #talli roland, #Summer, #Relationships, #top 100, #best-seller, #Humor, #reality tv, #Rock, #Dating, #top ten, #millionaire, #Humour, #Celebs, #Michele Gorman, #Country Estate, #bestseller, #chick lit, #bestselling, #Nick Spalding, #Ruth Saberton, #Romance, #Romantic, #freindship
The helicopter door opened and a familiar figure leapt down onto the beach. His dark hair lifted in the breeze and even from a distance Andi could see the sadness etched into his face. Her heart twisted. She had done that to him, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him close and kiss away all the hurt.
He was wearing aviator shades. She saw herself reflected in them, a small figure with wild red curls, marooned on the vast beach. Jonty pushed them onto the top of his head. In his faded jeans and white tee shirt, riding up to show a hint of the ripped flat stomach she knew lay beneath, he looked as though he’d stepped straight from a movie. And she knew exactly which one!
“Very
Top Gun
,” she teased.
“If you make any cracks about Maverick or ‘Take My Breath Away’, I’m jumping straight back in,” he warned.
Andi couldn’t help herself. “Not even, ‘Jonty, you big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever?’”
Jonty’s lips twitched. “Now that one I might have to take on board. Although, it does depend.”
It did? Andi was surprised he couldn’t hear her heart; it was thudding so loudly.
“On what?”
Jonty stared at the words she’d written so frantically in the sand, and when he looked up at her his turquoise eyes held none of the despair she’d seen earlier but instead they were flooded with hope.
“Do you mean it?” he said quietly, indicating the words and turning back to look at them. “Is that really true?”
Andi followed his gaze. Scrawled across the beach in the biggest letters she’d been able to manage in the few crazy minutes she’d had, were the simplest and most honest words she’d ever had to say.
Project Manager B. I love you. A
She nodded, unable to speak. Everything about Jonty robbed her of breath and flooded her with love. Those blue-green eyes that crinkled at the corners, the waves of dark hair curling against his neck, the strong arms that had held her close – but most of all his kind and generous soul. That was what was truly wonderful about Jonty;
he
was all that mattered. The rest of it was just wrapping. Looking at those simple words she wondered what had ever been so difficult.
“I mean it with all my heart,” she said.
Jonty didn’t move to close the distance between them but instead held her with his eyes. “And the other things? The secrets I kept? Being Project Manager B? Safe T Net?”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Andi told him. “I only care about you.” Oh sod it. It was time to lay her heart on the line. She’d already written it all over the beach, so there was no point hiding it. “I love you, Jonty. Nothing else matters apart from that.”
For a moment they just stared at one another. Then a smile lit his face just like the sun that was punching through the leaden clouds, and, stepping forward, he folded Andi into his arms.
The relief she felt was incredible. This was where she was supposed to be. Her harbour. Her home. Her Jonty. As though it had been waiting all day just for this very moment, egg-yolk yellow light spilled onto the beach, burnishing Jonty’s skin and turning his freckles to gold dust. Suddenly the whole world was filled with sunshine.
“I feel exactly the same way,” he said, tightening his arms and pulling her close so that she could feel every ripple of his body. Delicious shivers of desire Mexican-waved across her skin.
“You love me too?” The words fell from her lips before she could stop them.
Jonty brushed the hair away from her face. “I love everything about you, Andi Evans. I love the Andi that PMB bantered with. I love the Andi who learned to drive a boat. I love the Andi who worked like a maniac to make herself solvent and refused to give up.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Actually, I think I’ve loved you since you first tried to wrestle the
FT
from me!”
“The cheek! I was there first—” Andi feigned indignation, but her protests were soon silenced because Jonty was kissing her and she was kissing him back, softly at first but then with ever-increasing urgency as time seemed to slow and transport them to a place where there were no more misunderstandings.
“About what you did for me,” Andi began when they broke apart.
Jonty laid a finger on her lips. “I did it because I wanted to. There was no agenda. Can we leave all that for now? How about you and I forget about Tom and Jax and all the rest of the crap and just think about us for a change? And I mean absolutely nothing else. We can go away somewhere quiet where it’s just us, somewhere with no exes, sisters or interruptions.”
The way he said this, with those eyes holding hers, made Andi want nothing more. The images of a dark river, a soft breeze and billowing white curtains flashed through her memory and her pulse quickened.
Jonty held out his hand. “Do you trust me?”
She took it in hers, lacing their fingers together. “Of course I do.” She always had, Andi realised. From the moment they’d first met she’d instinctively trusted him. If she had only listened to her intuition she could have saved them both a lot of heartache.
He raised their linked hands, dropping a kiss onto her knuckles. “So you’ll come on a mystery flight?”
She squeezed his fingers. “Try stopping me.”
Hand in hand they retraced Jonty’s footsteps towards the helicopter, their two sets of prints in the sand side by side and closer than words. Just the way it should be.
“Ready to spread your wings and fly?” Jonty asked, and Andi nodded, knowing she would follow him to the end of the world if he asked. It didn’t matter where they went. All that mattered was that they were together. And with Jonty Andi knew that she would fly, in every way a person should.
Up into the sky rose the blue helicopter, hovering high above the beach and the two miniature figures next to a matchbox-sized car waving and cheering. It banked left and flew low over the Camel Estuary, where two small boys rode the wake of a boat while their father sounded the horn in greeting. Then it swooped towards the town, circled Ocean View and headed towards the limitless horizon...
Jonty smiled at her. “Ready?”
Andi smiled back. Her heart was so full of love and excitement that she could have flown without the helicopter. With Jonty beside her she knew she was more than ready for whatever might come next.
“Ready!” she replied firmly.
And bidding Angel, Gemma and their Cornish escape a silent
thank you,
Andi Evans flew up and away into the bright blue sky of her future.
Chapter 51
One Year Later
The National Television Awards
“And the award for Best Reality TV Show goes to...” the famous comedian paused for dramatic effect while the cameras panned across the audience, settling on the expectant faces of the UK’s most celebrated household names, all of whom were trying their hardest to look nonchalant. When the floor manager gave the nod, the comedian peeled the envelope open with painstaking slowness, before fixing the cameras with a blinding white grin. “I bloody love this show! Best Reality TV Show
–
it’s
Bread and Butlers
!”
“
Yes!” Angel, Lady Kenniston, shot out of her chair and punched the air, a dangerous activity that threatened to bounce her from her stunning strapless Stella McCartney gown. Beaming at all the
TOWIE
stars, celebrity chefs and ex glamour models pretending to look thrilled for her, Angel tossed her golden mane back from her flushed face and flung her arms around Laurence.
“Oh my God! We did it! We really did it!”
In her wildest dreams – and Angel’s dreams were pretty wild, it had to be said – she had never imagined that her idea would be anywhere near this successful. Almost from the second the first episode aired, the nation had gone crazy for
Bread and Butlers.
With Callum South’s popularity, the stunning setting of Kenniston, an eccentric cast and constant disasters, the ingredients had been as successful as Cal and Gemma’s fledgling bakery business that the show followed. Sprinkle into that Angel’s stunning looks, Laurence’s blue blood and the ongoing stresses of trying to save a crumbling mansion, and it made for compulsive viewing. The everyday dramas, the rows, and the excitement that had built after Laurence’s dramatic on-screen proposal for the
Bread and Butlers
summer wedding had all raised the show high in the ratings.
Mr Yuri had been right. It did not fail. As the cheers rang out, the oligarch beamed. He’d already seen Joanna Lumley and had chatted to Katie Price; he was having the time of his life!
“We certainly did do it!” Laurence kissed his wife back while the room erupted. Since the episode where they’d been married amid the half-restored splendour of Kenniston and with three beribboned Labradors and a bemused Gemma as flower girls, Laurence and Angel had scarcely been out of the press. The British public had gone crazy for them; a week rarely passed when they weren’t featured in a tabloid or in
Heat
magazine. Apart from Angel being voted
FHM
’s sexiest woman of the year (take that, Kelly Brook) and regularly bumping into Peter Andre (she was far too busy now to attend any of his barbecues, no matter how many times he invited her), the high point so far had probably been when Tom, fresh from his community service and suspended fraud sentence, had sent his CV to Kenniston. As if! Was ever a man so deluded? Angel had filed it in the bin.
“Jaysus, you two! Snog later,” Cal said to Angel and Laurence. His DJ strained a little at the buttons, but this was no longer an issue now that he was the face of a successful artisan bakery and more famous for focaccia than football. His brown eyes twinkled. “This is your big moment.”
“Go on!” urged Gemma. Unlike her partner she seldom appeared on the show, preferring to support Cal from the wings. Her recipe book, however, based on the show, was proving to be a huge bestseller – and she was already being hailed as the new Nigella. Although Gemma was still curvy, happiness and (judging from all the early nights they had, thought Angel with a smile) lots of good sex had slimmed her down to the size fourteen she’d always longed to be. Gemma still acted in an amateur group but most of her time was spent behind the scenes, running the business and helping with Kenniston. Walking from one end of the house to the other non-stop was also a workout in itself. Angel reckoned that Gemma must trek miles every day. Maybe she should buy her friend a Segway? That could be great TV material! And Laurence’s ma, who’d turned out to be a most unlikely star of the show, would be an absolute hoot on it. She made a mental note to look into it as soon as the award ceremony was over and text the production team. Honestly! Her brain hadn’t had a minute off since she’d first thought up
Bread and Butlers.
Claridge’s ballroom was still ringing with cheers. On the huge VT screen Angel saw a close-up of her smiling face, interspersed with clips from the show: Cal covered in flour kissing an equally floury Gemma, Laurence in a morning suit waiting nervously at the church, Angel in her underwear talking to the blushing builders, the dogs eating the cupcakes for a society soirée... Scene after scene flickered across the screen, a celluloid record of the best year of her life.
The cameras were panning back to her now. This was it, the moment where she would sweep through the gathered TV royalty and stand on the stage. It was the moment she’d dreamed about for so long; yet now it was here Angel was frozen. She glanced around the table, from face to face, and a knot formed in her throat at the thought of just how dear these people had become. Even Mr Yuri – although he still looked a bit like a pig in a suit – had been an invaluable ally, and Travis too had turned out to have quite a flair for television production. She couldn’t have done it without any of them, but there was one person without whom Angel knew she would never have made it this far. One person who had always supported her and looked out for her.
Applause rippled though the auditorium as Angel glided across the stage. The comedian dropped a kiss onto her cheek and tried to squeeze her backside, yelping when her sharp elbow caught him in the ribs. Angel smiled sweetly at the camera. She’d learned a lot this year. Clutching his chest, the comedian stepped back so that Angel could take the podium, and the audience fell silent.
“I’m not going to make you listen to a long speech,” Angel promised them. “I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who’s voted for us and supported the show. We love every minute of sharing our lives with you all. Although, I must admit that I could do without everyone seeing me without my make-up on such a regular basis. Laurence doesn’t have a choice – he married me – but the rest of you don’t deserve it!”
There was laughter at this. Angel always looked amazing with or without her foundation.
Angel clutched the award to her chest. “This is the part where I could do a Gwyneth Paltrow; there are so many people that deserve thanks, from my gorgeous husband right through to the fantastic crew. But before I do finish, there is one very special person I want to thank tonight. This is the person I owe everything to. She’s always been there, always believed in me and encouraged me. When our mother died she put her own grief aside and looked after me. I guess she’s been doing it ever since in one way or another. She’s always put me first.”
The auditorium was silent. On the big screen Angel’s eyes shimmered with emotion. “She can’t be here tonight because she’s in Mumbai with her partner, Jonty Teague, and working with the Safe T Net Safe Sight charity, but I want everyone to know just how much she means to me and how much I love her.” She raised the golden trophy and spoke directly to the camera. “Andi Evans, sister, best friend and fellow Rock chick, this is for you!”
The room erupted into applause and Angel’s heart swelled with pride as she rejoined her table.
“That was wonderful,” said Gemma, hugging her tightly. “Didn’t I tell you that going to Cornwall was the start of amazing things? And just look at how it turned out for all of us.”
Nodding, Angel hugged her back. Three girls, two hundred miles and one golden summer. Gemma had been right all along: their escape to Cornwall had been the start of wonderful adventures – and as she smiled at her friends, Angel knew for certain there were plenty more to come.