A Seaside Affair (34 page)

‘He’s really cut up about Red not being here. That’s what this is all about. She didn’t call him. Not even a text.’

‘And what about you, Jess?’ Brooke looked at her friend. ‘Anything from Ryan?’

Jess looked down at the glass in her hand. ‘No.’

‘Still hopin’, tho?’ Brooke said in her best Monroe voice, pulling a girlie face to make Jess laugh.

Jess did so reluctantly. ‘Yeah, I suppose so. Maybe he’s going to turn up any second and surprise me. Or maybe he’s at Granny’s Nook?’

‘Has he got a key?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hmm. Well. Maybe.’

They stopped talking and watched as Ollie hit the dance floor. His muscled thighs looked good in his tight jeans and his T-shirt accentuated his abs to perfection.

‘He’s not a bad-looking bloke, is he?’ offered Jess.

‘If he wasn’t Ollie, I’d definitely have a go.’

‘Would you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But it would be odd, wouldn’t it? Him being Ollie and all.’

‘Weird.’

‘Yeah. Really weird.’

*

Jonathan approached them through the throng and kissed them both. ‘Congratulations! You were both amazing tonight. You deserve your success. Here’s to you both.’ He stopped a passing waiter who was carrying a tray with a bucket of champagne and four glasses.

‘Ah, sir – I couldn’t see you in the crowd. Where shall I put this?’

‘On the table here, please.’

The three of them watched as the waiter expertly opened the champagne without spilling a drop and poured the bubbling liquid into the glasses. ‘If you need anything else, sir, just give me the nod.’

‘Thank you.’ Jonathan handed the girls a glass each and made a toast. ‘To my two leading ladies, with love and gratitude.’

At some parties every minute feels like an hour. Fortunately, this wasn’t one of them. The hours slipped by until only the hardcore revellers were left. As the night gave way to a soft sunrise in the east, Miss Coco was on the dance floor trying to teach Jonathan the quick step. The Colonel, Piran and Helen were drinking large cups of hot chocolate, wrapping their hands round them for warmth and discussing the history of Trevay and the Pavilions in particular.

Ollie was draped all over Jess, telling her how bad he felt over breaking up with Red. ‘I never saw her, but I miss her,’ he slurred.

‘I know.’ Jess stroked his head.

‘I’m not good at picking girls. I need someone who’s just normal and nice. Not these fricking head cases. Where are all the normal girls, Jess?’

‘There are lots of us about.’

‘How do I spot one?’

‘Well, we’re just … normal.’

‘Is Ryan normal?’

Jess had to consider this for a minute. ‘Yeah. I think so. As normal as a bloke gets. He doesn’t hear me when I ask him to put the rubbish out and he thinks farting is acceptable in front of me, so … yeah. He’s normal.’

‘But he’s a superstar. Red’s a superstar. That’s not normal.’

Jess was distracted from this line of conversation by the look of pure shock that had crossed Brooke’s face.

‘Brooke, what’s the matter?’

‘Turn round.’ Brooke instructed.

Jess did as she was told and almost knocked Ollie to the floor as she leapt to her feet in shock.

‘You didn’t think I’d miss my baby’s first night, did you?’

It was Ryan, looking impossibly handsome in a Tom Ford evening suit and carrying a dozen peach roses.

‘Ryan! Oh, Ryan.’ She walked into his arms and melted into the feel and the smell of this man she loved so much.

A couple of journos who hadn’t been able to tear themselves away from the party or the free booze found themselves with a scoop on their hands. With no photographers on hand, they snapped some shots with their smartphones and asked excitable questions.

‘When did you get here, Ryan?’

‘Did you see the show, Ryan?’

‘What did you think of the missus tonight, Ryan?’

Ryan stood in the glow of the rising sun and answered their questions politely, all the while hugging and kissing Jess. She felt she’d never loved him more. But his place in the sun was not to last. A shadow fell over Ryan’s ego as Louis, obviously the worse for wear, staggered out of the roof terrace lift with two boxes of Maltesers in one hand and a box of Twister in the other.

‘Hey, gorge.’ He pointed at Brooke who giggled with delight. ‘Wanna have some fun?’

She ran towards him and he pulled her into an alcoholic snog.

‘How did you get here?’ she asked breathlessly.

Louis tried to locate Hutch by spinning on one foot and almost falling over. ‘Aha! There he is. My man Hutch. He got me in the car and he drove all night.’ He kissed her again. ‘That’s a good name for a song.’

The journos deserted Ryan like rats from a sinking ship, and were now swarming all over Louis and Brooke. This was the Big Story.

H
utch must have radioed for assistance because six plainclothes officers appeared on the roof terrace and bundled the small group into the lift and down into a fleet of waiting people carriers.

All Jess knew, a few hours later, was that she was lying in her own bed, in Granny’s Nook, next to the sleeping form of Ryan.

She got slowly out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Downstairs the kitchen clock said 8.35. She could only have been asleep for a couple of hours and yet last night’s adrenalin was still coursing through her body.

She put the kettle on and rustled up a couple of mugs.

‘Hi.’ The voice behind her made her jump.

‘Oh. Ollie! What are you doing here?’

‘I slept on the sofa. You just walked past me.’

‘Did I? Sorry. I was miles away.’ She reached up for another mug. ‘Is Louis here?’

‘I don’t know. I was in the last vehicle. I think we dropped Jonathan at his place and then Miss Coco at hers. My memory’s a bit of a blank.’

‘Why didn’t you stay in your own room at the Starfish?’

‘Oh yeah.’ He thumped his forehead with his hand. ‘Doh. In all the excitement I suppose I … it was like being in an action movie, wasn’t it?’

Jess laughed. ‘Yeah. When all those guys appeared and grabbed us … who were they anyway?’

Ollie shrugged. ‘No idea, but what fun for Louis to have those kind of people looking out for you.’

Jess went to the fridge to get the milk. ‘There’s no milk – see if the milkman has left some on the step, would you?’

‘Sure.’ Ollie walked out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Jess heard him scream in fright and the door being banged shut. He skidded into the kitchen, empty-handed, and said, ‘I think Louis
is
here.’

Jess lifted the kitchen blind half a centimetre and peered out. The garden was full of reporters and photographers. One young woman in a pencil skirt and stilettos was approaching the front door. Jess let the blind drop just as the knock came.

‘Leave it,’ she hissed at Ollie as he dropped to his knees in fright.

‘But they know we’re here,’ he whispered.

‘We’ve got the kettle, a fridge full of food, a loo and the telly, so we can hole up for days,’ she whispered back, kneeling beside him.

‘We’ve got to get out to do the show though.’

‘Not till later … they won’t stay all day, will they?’

Both of them froze at the sound of the back-door handle rattling.

‘Oh my God. Who’s that?’

‘It’s me, Hutch.’

Jess and Ollie slowly straightened up.

Hutch, dressed in camouflage trousers and jacket with a black woollen beanie on his head, slipped through the door and bolted it behind him.

‘OK, here’s what we are going to do …’

Apparently, on the night they had heard noises in the garden and Hutch had spirited Louis out of the village, the perpetrators had been extra security officers who were recce-ing any escape route that their vulnerable charge might one day need. Hutch had been briefed shortly after and had just now been checking it out. The garden of Granny’s Nook backed onto the old church and its graveyard. To the left ran the narrow lane leading to Shellsand Bay and a dead end. To the right were the neighbours’ back gardens and the lane to Trevay.

‘We’re going to create two diversions. I’ve got a vehicle parking in the lane to Trevay as we speak and another is due to arrive outside the cottage. Jess, is Ryan awake?’

‘I can wake him.’

‘Good. Tell him to get dressed and come down straight away. Ollie?’

‘Yes?’

‘I want you to get dressed too. You are both about to play the role of Prince Louis.’

There was another knock at the front door. Jess flinched.

Hutch looked at her urgently. ‘You’re going to open the door and tell them he’s not here. Don’t be too good an actress. I want them to think you are lying.’

Jess held her hands to her chest and pulled her dressing gown round her more tightly. ‘OK.’

‘Wait till Ollie and I go upstairs before opening the door. We’ll get Ryan and Louis ready. Just keep them talking. You’ll know when to stop.’

‘Oh. OK.’

She watched as the two men slipped up the stairs, grateful that she’d got into the habit of shutting all the curtains at night in case Louis dropped by and any nosy neighbours came peeking.

The knock on the door sounded again, louder.

A young woman’s voice called through the letter box: ‘Brooke? Louis? I just want a quick word with you. I’m from the
Daily Mirror
. I can make all these other people go away if you just let me in.’

Jess took a deep breath to prepare for one of the scariest performances of her life. She opened the door just a crack. The photographers picked up their cameras and let off a volley of flashes.

‘Good morning.’ She tried to look friendly and innocent. ‘It’s awfully early. We had a very late night last night. How can I help you?’

The female journalist, who was trying to see round Jess into the cottage, replied, ‘Miss Tate, I am so pleased to meet you. I think you were wonderful in
Horse Laugh
,
by the way.’ She was offering her hand. ‘My name’s Julia. How did the show go last night?’

Jess looked at this seemingly nice, well-mannered young woman. She had no pen or notebook in her hand, so she wasn’t making a note of this conversation. All she was holding was her phone. Curious, Jess took a closer look at the phone. ‘Are you recording our conversation?’

Julia smiled, unabashed. ‘Of course. Always recording.’

‘Isn’t it polite to let people know you are recording them?’

‘Well, you do know, so that’s all right.’ She looked over her shoulder at the press pack behind her. They were clearly in cahoots. Send in the least dangerous-looking of them to get a foot in the door and then go in like a pack of wolves. She turned back to Jess. ‘Don’t worry about them. They’ll back off just as soon as we get a quick word and a photo.’

‘Of whom?’

Julia gave a snort of derision. ‘Who do you think, Miss Tate? My editor will make sure that you, personally, get some great reviews for the show and a healthy donation to your favourite charity. Let me in and we can have a chat.’

Julia put her foot over the threshold, but Jess stood fast. ‘How much?’

‘Aw, that’s better. Like I said, let me in, Jess – I can call you Jess, can’t I? – and we’ll have a cuppa. I take it Louis is in bed? With Brooke?’

Out of the corner of her eye, Jess could see a black saloon car turning into the village from the Bodmin road. It slunk along the edges of the village green before stopping, silently, opposite the gate of Granny’s Nook. So quiet was it, that the press pack didn’t hear it.

Jess switched into acting mode, looking more nervy than she felt: ‘Well, I’ve been told to say nothing and I really don’t know much but—’

She couldn’t say more because a tall figure with a blanket covering him ran past behind her and out towards the back door. There was the sound of the door opening and then a gust of wind blew through the house.

Julia immediately dropped the pleasantries and turned to the pack: ‘The bastard’s just gone out the back way,’ she yelled.

Half the press corps turned, stumbling through the front gate, some turning left, some right. The other half stayed put, guessing that this was a ruse.

Julia stayed with them and turned back to Jess. ‘We will get him and the story, you know. We always do.’

Before Jess could answer, a strong hand gripped her shoulder from behind and pulled her back into the house. She saw two men, one covered in a blanket, the other was Hutch. They ran through the pack as two police cars, sirens and lights blaring, turned onto the village green. The officers kept the press gang at bay as the two figures jumped into the black saloon and drove off towards Bodmin.

When the car had disappeared from sight, the police officers cautioned the company of press men and escorted them away from the village.

Jess slammed the front door shut behind her.

The phone rang. It was Hutch.

‘Well done. You all right?’

‘Yes. Is Louis OK?’

‘Go upstairs and ask him.’

‘You mean he’s still here?’

‘Yeah, but not for long. I’ve got your boyfriend with me. Want a word?’

‘Hi, babe. That was rather thrilling, wasn’t it? Can’t talk – there’s a suspicious motorcyclist following us. Hutch has offered me a lift back to town …’

‘Town? You mean Trevay?’

‘No, honey, London town, so I’ll get out of your hair. Speak later, babe. Love you.’ She heard the receiver being passed over. ‘Jess? It’s Hutch. You’ve got a job to do. Listen …’

*

When Jess went upstairs, she found Brooke and Louis lying in bed watching the news. There were photos of Louis, three sheets to the wind, arriving at last night’s party. And then they cut to a picture of him hugging and kissing Brooke, while some pompous old commentator intoned, ‘The Queen will not be amused. Yes, this boy may be a lesser member of the royal family but he is a royal. This is a major embarrassment for the Palace.’

The camera cut away from the photos and back to the studio where a pretty young woman was arguing in Louis’ favour: ‘Look, this is a young man the country has taken a real shine to. He’s brave, he’s dashing and he’s behaving like one of us. Why shouldn’t he go to a party and have some fun with his girlfriend?’