by Fiona Leitch
‘Oh, my hero!’ Faith stood in the doorway. She held a suspiciously flattering pose, half-turned to the side and draped against the door frame, with the light streaming through the open window behind her providing a warm glow, almost an aura, around her. She made sure everyone had seen her at her best (or was that just me being mean?) before stepping out of the caravan and rushing over to Tony. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ said Tony, unceremoniously letting go of me. ‘No bones broken.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad. It was so good of you to come and rescue me.’ She threaded her arm through his. ‘Do come and have some lunch, we must keep your strength up.’
For WHAT? I thought. I glared at Tony. ‘I’m fine too, thanks for asking.’
Faith turned to me with a smile on her face, but I no longer trusted it. ‘Of course, Jodie, thank you for your help. Now, let’s get some lunch.’ And with that she led Tony away.
Chapter Four
I pulled my jeans and hoodie back on and left the wardrobe caravan without looking back. The morning had been imbued with far less Hollywood glamour than I’d been expecting.
With Faith now released from her caravan incarceration, filming could start, but so much time had been wasted that the director had decided to film a different scene and do the ballroom one the next day. My band of domestics had been let go, but Debbie had been asked to stay and had been given another gorgeous dress to wear. It also appeared that Tony was Faith’s new favourite person on set (even if he was just a lowly extra) and I thought it was only a matter of time before my jokey prediction of him being given a couple of lines to say came true.
Bloody film people, I muttered to myself. I was glad to be out of it. I was in such a hurry that I jumped in the car and shoved it into reverse without looking properly.
‘Oi!’ There was a shout and someone banged against the side of the car with their hand. I swore under my breath and looked up as they came over to the driver’s window … straight into the (rather dreamy) eyes of Zack Smith…
I wound down my window, blushing, mortified. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you…’ How could anyone not see HIM? He held up a hand to stop me.
‘It’s all right. It weren’t me; it was this little one.’ He bent down and picked up a dog, one of those small, yappy, long-haired, rat-looking things – a Pekinese, I thought. Not a patch on my Pomeranian. ‘My co-star’s dog. I said I’d walk it for her while she’s in Make-Up but between you and me, it’s a right bloody nightmare. And I can’t get the hang of this…’ He was holding the same sort of lead I had for Germaine – the extendable type. The dog wriggled and yapped in his arms and he put it down, glaring at it. ‘It keeps running off and I can’t stop the lead getting longer.’ The dog made a dash for it again and he reached down to grab it by the collar. It was dark-pink leather and covered in glittering diamanté stones.
I opened the car door, making him step back, and reached out for the lead.
‘I’ve got the same sort for my dog,’ I said, reeling the nylon leash in and clicking the locking button on the plastic housing. ‘Here. You just click this on and off to lock it to the length you want.’ I smiled, remembering that I’d had exactly the same problem with Germaine when I’d inherited her. She’d belonged to Tony’s late ex-wife, she of the body-in-the-shrubbery, and I’d somehow ended up with her; reluctantly at first, but it hadn’t taken long (about five minutes of staring into her cute, foxy little face) for me to fall in love with her. ‘These little dogs are usually pretty intelligent and they tend to be good at escaping. What’s her name?’
‘It’s called Princess.’
‘Stop calling her ‘it’!’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t like it if someone referred to you as ‘it’.’
He smiled. ‘No, I wouldn’t. You’re right. I just ain’t used to dogs. You part of the movie?’
‘I’m an extra, but I’m not sure I’m cut out for this sort of thing.’
‘Too much hanging about?’
‘How did you…?’
He laughed. ‘It’s the first thing everyone says when they come on set. ‘I didn’t realise there was so much waiting around.’ Basically, it’s minutes of proper full-on action surrounded by hours of boredom. But you’re escaping?’
‘Only until tomorrow. I need the money.’ And I might need to rescue my best mate from Faith Mackenzie.
‘Ha! Don’t we all. See ya, and cheers for this.’ He waved the lead at me, then stepped back so he and Princess the Pekinese were out of the way. I got back in the car and drove away, feeling like the morning hadn’t been all bad after all.
I drove into town to get some bits from the supermarket. Seeing Zack with the dog had reminded me that my own four-legged friend was running low on biscuits, and come to think of it, the two-legged occupants of the house didn’t have any either. I grabbed a basket, then thought better of it and got a small trolley instead (you always need more at the supermarket than you think). As I pushed it along the fruit and veg aisle, I spotted the familiar (and handsome) figure of DCI Nathan Withers ahead of me, perusing the apples.
I suddenly decided to make an apple crumble.
‘Hello, stranger!’ I said, reaching for a bag of Granny Smiths. Nathan started in surprise, then looked at me.
‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ he said, smiling at me.
‘So I see. Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you around for ages.’ Ooh, that sounded like I’d been looking out for him. Which I had, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. ‘Not that I’ve been looking or anything…’
He smiled wanly. ‘It’s nice to know somebody missed me. I had to go home. I only got back last night.’
‘Home? You mean Crosby? Is everything all right?’
‘Not really. My dad’s in hospital. Heart attack.’ Now that I was looking at him properly, rather than just gazing at him lustfully, I could see that he was pale and seemed tired.
‘Nathan, I’m so sorry! Is he going to be all right? How’s your mum taking it?’ He looked so sad for a moment that I wished I hadn’t asked. ‘Sorry, you don’t have to talk about it. I’m being nosey.’
‘You, nosey? Never.’ He smiled again, and this time it looked more genuine. ‘It’s nice that you’re concerned.’
I looked in his trolley. It was full of ready meals for one and bags of pre-prepared frozen rubbish. ‘I’m so concerned that I’m going to make you a decent meal tonight,’ I said. ‘I mean it. Finish your shopping then come round, if you’re off duty?’
He hesitated for a second, then nodded. ‘Thanks, Jodie. It’s just really hard being so far away, innit?’
I put my hand on his arm, but it felt completely inadequate. I really wanted to pull him in for a hug, but that’s the problem with unresolved sexual tension: it makes the most innocent, heartfelt gesture feel a bit inappropriate. And I really was thinking about him with my heart this time, not my other bits…
Mum opened the oven door and sniffed.
‘You’ve done a proper job on dinner tonight,’ she said. ‘What’s all this in aid of?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, a tad too defensively. ‘I just fancied cooking something nice.’
It was nice too. I’d picked up some lovely salmon and hoki fillets at the local fishmongers (we actually had a fishmonger! After years in London, with no option but to buy everything from the massive supermarket nearby, it felt like a luxury). I’d softened leeks in some butter and wilted some spinach along with them, then made a rich, creamy sauce, adding a few strands of saffron that had been steeping in a spoonful of hot water. I cut the fish into chunks and stirred it, along with the veg, into the sauce and let it simmer while I mashed potatoes, adding butter, milk, and a handful of cheese. Then I piled the fish mixture into a pie dish, topping it with the mash and another handful of cheese on top. It was smooth and velvety, and perfect comfort food.
‘If I can’t cook for paying clients, I’ll just have to cook for you and Daisy,’ I said. I turned to Daisy, who had just come into the
kitchen with the dog following at her heels. ‘Lay the table, will you, sweetheart?’ She gave a big dramatic sigh – apparently I treated her little better than a slave, what with making her lay the table occasionally and wash up the dinner things – and then pulled out the cutlery drawer. ‘Oh, you’d better lay four places,’ I added casually. All three of them (Germaine included) looked up at me, and I felt my cheeks starting to redden.
‘Tony coming round, is he?’ asked Mum.
‘No, Nathan.’ Mum opened her mouth to say something so I leapt in quick. ‘And before you say anything, it’s not a date – not with you lot here – he’s just had some bad news from home and I want to make sure he’s okay.’
Mum and Daisy exchanged meaningful looks.
‘And you can stop looking at each other like that!’ I said, hotly. ‘He’s just a friend.’
The doorbell rang. Saved by the bell.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Mum, a glint of mischief in her eye.
‘Oh no you flipping won’t,’ I said, standing in her way. ‘And remember what I said. He’s had some bad news and he needs looking after.’
‘He needs cherishing.’ Mum grinned. I ignored her and went to let our dinner guest in.
Nathan stood on the doorstep holding a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and a bunch of flowers. He smiled with uncharacteristic shyness, which made my heart do a little flippy-floppy thing in my chest, and held up the wine.
‘I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I made sure I covered all the bases,’ he said. I laughed.
‘Mum’ll have the wine, Daisy will eat the chocolates, and I’ll have the flowers,’ I said.
‘Really? I was kind of picturing you getting drunk and scoffing all the soft centres.’ He grinned.
‘Dammit, you know me too well…’
He followed me into the kitchen, where Mum and Daisy were dutifully waiting. It was so obvious that they’d been told to be on their best behaviour that it was embarrassing.
However, once we were all seated at the table, tucking into the fish pie, the atmosphere became more relaxed and we chatted easily. Whenever Tony came round for dinner (he was never exactly invited, he just quite often happened to be there doing an odd job for me right around the time we normally ate…) we’d known each other for so long, and my parents had known his parents for years too, it just felt like having another member of the family at the table. Increasingly though, at other times – like today, with the tight trousers – I wasn’t entirely sure what it felt like. But he could always gossip with my mum and with Daisy, too; he had a really nice way with her, despite not being a dad himself. He was certainly a better male role-model than her own useless, absent father.
But with Nathan it was bound to be different. We’d only become friends (initially, enemies) a few months ago, when I’d insinuated myself into a murder investigation, and we’d worked together on a few cases now. He’d laughed when I’d first called myself a private investigator (which I’d only done because he’d been arrogantly winding me up), but he’d come to respect and sometimes even ask for my input. I’d been a good copper; I’d never been CID, like him, but that had been through choice, because I’d loved being on the beat and talking to people out on the streets (and quite often running after and handcuffing them). I’d left the force to stop Daisy worrying about me, the way I’d worried about my dad when he’d been Chief Inspector of Penstowan Police Station, but there wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t miss it. Well, maybe I didn’t miss it every day, but I missed it more often than I’d expected to. But Daisy was happier, so I didn’t regret leaving one bit.
Nathan chatted away, much more like his usual self than he had been in the supermarket, but then Mum and Daisy were at the table and he probably didn’t want to unburden himself in front of the whole family. He had seconds of the fish pie, but pushed his plate away when Mum offered him thirds.
‘No thanks, Shirley, I am stuffed,’ he said. ‘That was lovely. Fish pie’s one of my favourites.’
‘I know,’ I said absentmindedly, then cursed myself; this was supposed to be a casual dinner among friends, not a full-frontal culinary attack on a potential lover. ‘I mean, I was planning to cook fish and you know how some people are funny about eating fish, so I was a bit worried and then I remembered you saying how much you liked fish pie—’ Stop talking, Jodie! Daisy gave me a funny look, but Mum, bless her, leapt in and distracted Nathan’s attention from my inane babbling.
‘Jodie said you’d had some news from back home,’ she said. My gratitude at her distraction evaporated instantly. I glared at her.
‘I’m sure Nathan doesn’t want to talk about it,’ I said, sending her the telepathic message that I would slip a laxative into her bedtime cocoa if she didn’t change the subject. But I didn’t need to break out the Ex-Lax.
‘It’s fine,’ said Nathan, smiling at me. ‘Yes, my dad had a heart attack on Sunday morning. Quite a big one. But he’s had a stent fitted and he’s doing all right.’
‘What’s a stent?’ asked Daisy.
‘One of the things that causes a heart attack is when your arteries get clogged up,’ explained Nathan. He was so calm about it, not at all angry with Daisy for asking, and it reminded me of another dinner conversation when she was about five. She’d asked her dad to explain what made thunder and lightning and he’d curtly told her to google it, probably because he didn’t want to admit he didn’t know. ‘They can get clogged up with fat, stuff like that, if you don’t have a very good diet. Your mum makes sure you eat healthy food, but my dad likes his doughnuts a bit too much.’
‘I hate doughnuts,’ said Daisy. She obviously wanted to say something supportive but wasn’t sure what.
‘I quite like them. I’m a police officer, aren’t I? We’re supposed to sit in our cars and eat doughnuts.’ Nathan smiled at her. ‘Anyway, the doctors go in and clear all the crud out of your arteries, and then they slide the stent in. Once it’s in place, it kind of inflates and it holds your artery open, so it doesn’t get clogged up again.’ He shrugged. ‘Something like that, anyway. I’m not a doctor.’
‘So he’s recovering in hospital?’ I asked. He nodded.
‘Yes. I went up there after the attack to make sure he was okay, and I stayed with my mum until he was through all the surgery. I would have stayed longer but she told me not to waste my holiday on her.’ He laughed softly. ‘Who else am I going to waste it on?’
Me, I thought automatically, but then I could hardly bugger off to Torremolinos for a week of passion with him and leave Daisy at home with Mum.
I shook my head to clear it of thoughts of romance on the Costa del Sol and began to stack the empty plates up.
‘Well, you know where we are if you want some company,’ said Mum, and my heart swelled. Yeah, she was a bit dotty, she could talk the hind leg off a donkey, and she was always embarrassing me and dropping heavy-handed hints at random men about my lack of a husband, but she was warm and lovely and had a habit of taking in waifs and strays. Nathan was too blooming muscular and good-looking to be a waif but he must get lonely, so far away from his family. Although God knows there had been a few times when I wanted to be far away from mine…
‘Anyway,’ I said, changing the subject before we all turned into the Waltons or something. ‘I haven’t told you about my day yet. I’m an extra on that film they’re shooting at Penstowan Cross,’ I explained to Nathan. I turned to Daisy. ‘I only met Zack Smith.’
‘No!’ She looked at me with wide eyes. ‘What happened?’
‘I nearly ran over his dog. Well, she’s not actually his dog; he was walking her for a friend. Long story.’
Nathan laughed. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ He looked at me with a smile on his face that was warm and genuine enough to make the memory of Tony’s snug breeches fade away to nothing.
‘Ooh and Mum, I spoke to Faith Mackenzie. She got locked in her caravan and Tony had to climb in through a window and break the door down.’
‘Oh, Tony’s in it as well, is he?’ Nathan’s smile faltered for a moment, or did I imagine it?
I nodded. ‘Yeah. Faith seems to have taken a fancy to him. She’ll probably lock him in with her next time.’ I laughed, but I suddenly wasn’t sure I found it that funny.
‘How do you lock yourself in a caravan?’ asked Nathan, amused. ‘Locked out, yeah, but in? These celebrities aren’t the brightest, are they?’
‘That’s exactly what I thought!’ I said. ‘Not the bit about her not being very bright – I had quite a long conversation with her and that woman knows exactly what she’s doing—’ Ooh, that sounded catty. What was the matter with me? ‘They had a locksmith and everything, but he couldn’t pick the lock. He couldn’t even get his tools inside the mechanism.’
‘Superglue,’ said Mum. We all looked at her; that was random, even for her.
‘What about it?’
‘In the lock. You probably won’t remember. One of your dad’s friends, Vinnie Butler—’
‘He sounds like a right hardcase,’ Nathan muttered to me, and I smothered a giggle.
‘Vinnie had these caravans on his farm, over near Crackington Haven. The year we had the solar eclipse down here.’
‘I think they had that everywhere, Nana,’ said Daisy.
‘Yes, I know they did, cheeky madam!’ said Mum, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. ‘We had a lot of tourists come down for it, because we got a better view of it than the rest of the country. It was 1998, or maybe 1999 – a couple of years before you went off to London. So Vinnie decided to set these caravans up and rent them out for the week to tourists, only, the week before, someone went round and sabotaged all of them so he couldn’t.’