Sarah looked incredulous. ‘Rainforests are tropical, Polly!’
‘Well, we could throw in a few cheeseplants, or yuccas perhaps – but the point I’m trying to make, Sarah, is that it’s all very well having wonderful plans to save the world, and I’m the first one to say that ecology and all that environmental junk is terribly important, but if you don’t have the money to implement those plans –’
‘I THOUGHT YOU SAID THEY WERE COMING TOMORROW!’ boomed an outraged voice in my left ear.
My coffee mug nearly leaped out of my fingers as I swung round in alarm.
‘Wh-what?’ I faltered.
‘Tomorrow, you said, well they’re bloody well here today!’ Nick ground his teeth. ‘And d’you know where they are? Eh? Go on, have a guess.’
‘Er … where?’
‘In my bloody barley field! Apparently they thought it was a marvellous place to park, terrifically handy, thought it was grass, you see, didn’t have the nous to realize that some crops do vaguely resemble grass but aren’t actually quite so robust and don’t take kindly to having two-ton trucks parked on top of them! Of course, they didn’t even stop to consider that it might be somebody’s livelihood, oh no!’
‘Oh my God,’ I mumbled.
‘Yes, oh my God,’ he seethed, ‘the nightmare’s begun. I’ve got Larry redirecting them to the top field but if you could tear yourself away from your coffee morning for two minutes you might slip down and give him a hand. I’ve got work to do and I haven’t got time to be a bloody traffic warden! Morning, Sarah.’ He slammed out again.
Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘Doesn’t seem too proud at the moment,’ she murmured.
‘Er, no, you may be right there,’ I said, getting hurriedly to my feet. ‘In fact I’d better get down there before the shit hits the fan.’
‘You mean that wasn’t it? Blimey, I’m getting out of here.’
She quickly drained her coffee and we went our separate ways.
I ran speedily to the barley field. God! A day early! Why hadn’t Pippa let me know? I couldn’t help feel inordinately excited, though, as I sped down the garden, across the first field and into the meadow beyond. They were here! They’d arrived! In fact I couldn’t resist a couple of gazelle-like leaps as I bounded through the long grass. As I executed the second leap I caught sight of Nick wrestling with a ewe in the adjacent field. I instantly dropped the aerobics and adopted a slow, sober walk, head hung low, face suffused with guilt.
‘Get a move on, Polly,’ yelled Nick over the fence. ‘Instead of prancing around you could get down there and help Larry!’
‘Yes, sir,’ I muttered meekly, doffing an imaginary cap.
Gosh, he was a bore. So they were a day early? So what? His unwavering misanthropy about the whole thing was beginning to annoy me.
In the distance I spotted a convoy of trucks and vans trundling out of the barley field, along the dirt track, and into the field immediately below me. Larry was waving his arms around, directing them in. I ran to join him at the gate and swung on it as the first of the lorries made its way towards us. I smiled cheerily as it trundled through and two young guys in the front smiled back, giving me a wave. As the six or seven vehicles rolled through I kept the smile glued to my face, despite the dust, whilst silently appraising the occupants. He’s attractive … she’s pretty … so is she … she’s not – oh look, there’s Pippa –
‘Pippa!’
Pippa’s Alfa Romeo bounced through the gate and stopped in the middle of the field. As she got out I felt slightly nervous. We hadn’t spoken since that dreadful phone call.
‘Hi!’ I yelled.
She ran over and hugged me warmly.
‘So glad it’s worked out,’ she muttered in my ear. ‘It would have been awful to fall out over this.’
‘We wouldn’t have,’ I promised, ‘but I’m so thrilled you’re here, albeit a day early. I thought you were coming tomorrow?’
‘Didn’t you get my message? I left a message with some yokel woman I couldn’t understand, so perhaps she didn’t understand me either.’
‘Mrs Bradshaw? No, she didn’t mention it.’
‘Probably forgot.’
Or else, I thought, had deliberately kept quiet. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Mrs Bradshaw was getting a vicarious thrill out of all the friction the shoot was causing between me and Nick.
I jumped suddenly as the passenger door of the Alfa Romeo slammed shut with an almighty bang.
‘Josh! Come and meet Polly!’ shouted Pippa. ‘That’s him,’ she whispered in my ear.
A grim-faced middle-aged man strode towards us. He was wearing white jeans, a denim shirt and a black leather jacket, all of which were slightly too tight and looked faintly ridiculous on his rather portly body. He had a closely cropped black beard tinged with grey, and jet-black hair which was very thick at the front and sides but nonexistent in the middle – a bit of a slap-head actually. His eyes were fierce and dark.
‘Where the hell did you put my Filofax, Pippa?’ he stormed as he approached.
‘It’s in your case,’ replied Pippa soothingly. ‘I didn’t want you to forget it so I popped it in there first thing this morning.’
‘In the office, you mean,’ he said quickly, eyes like daggers.
‘Y-yes, in the office, of course,’ faltered Pippa, flushing. ‘Where else?’
‘Quite,’ he seethed, shortly. ‘Well, for future reference, don’t touch my things without telling me. I nearly had a heart attack just then. I thought I’d forgotten it.’
‘Right. Sorry.’
I looked down and kicked at a tuft of grass, feeling uncomfortable.
‘Um, Polly, this is Josh,’ said Pippa quickly, ‘Josh Drysdale, Polly Penhalligan, my best friend and chatelaine of this vast estate!’
I held out my hand. So this was Josh. This was the married man who was causing Pippa so much pain and heartache. I couldn’t see it myself, he looked at least forty and would have been no great shakes at thirty. What was someone as beautiful as Pippa doing with someone as ordinary – and bad-tempered – as this?
‘Hi, Pippa’s told me all about you,’ I said with a smile.
Pippa looked horrified.
‘I – mean, what you do, you know, at work, as a producer,’ I gabbled quickly.
Josh gave a tight little smile. ‘She’s told me about you too,’ he said grudgingly.
‘Well, I hope she didn’t tell you how I nearly cocked up the whole bloody thing by not telling my husband you were com–’
‘Um, Polly, can I show Josh around?’ cut in Pippa with wide eyes and gritted teeth.
‘Sure, come up to the house if you like, have a cup of –’
‘Wait!’ interrupted Josh, holding up his hand for quiet and cocking his ear to the car. We waited. ‘Yes, I thought so,’ he affirmed with a curt little nod, ‘that’s my phone.’ He turned and ran back to the car.
Pippa rounded on me. ‘Polly, don’t tell him we nearly had a cock-up,’ she hissed. ‘I want him to think it’s all going swimmingly!’
‘Well, it is now, isn’t it?’
‘And don’t act as if you know about us either!’
‘Doesn’t he know I know?’
‘No! No one’s supposed to know – it’s all supposed to be incredibly secret!’
‘But he’s still leaving her for you, isn’t he? I mean, he’s not stringing you along or anything?’
‘Of course not. I told you, he’s mad about me, but just don’t mention it, that’s all!’
‘OK, OK, calm down.’
‘Right. So what d’you think?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Er … well. He looks very nice. I mean, it’s so hard to tell when I’ve only just met him. How old is he?’
‘Forty-three. Heavenly, isn’t he? D’you know, I had no idea I was into older men until I met Josh, but I tell you, Polly, I’d never go out with anyone under forty again. There are so many advantages of being with an older man, it’s incredible!’
‘Really?’ I said doubtfully. I could only think of the disadvantages, like the baldness, the saggy tummy, the grey hair, the pathetic attempts at trendy clothes, but I wisely held my tongue. I turned to look at him as he leaned into Pippa’s car, talking on the car phone. His jacket had ridden up at the back and through his tight white jeans I could see his Father Christmas boxer shorts. I shuddered. Heavens. Rather her than me.
A moment later he rejoined us, clutching his Filofax and accompanied by someone who provoked a knee-jerk reaction in me that I haven’t experienced for some time. I gasped. Jesus. Now we really were talking heavenly.
This individual was about six inches taller than Josh, about eight years younger and about a hundred times more attractive. His nut-brown hair was streaked with gold and swept back off his face, curling slightly as it came to rest on the back of his collar. His face was tanned and his hazel eyes twinkled with gold flecks, rather like his hair. He had that enviable, expensive outdoor look you only get from swimming in hot seas, taking regular skiing trips and playing a spot of polo. We were talking fit and ready for action here. He held out a suntanned hand, flashed an immaculate set of pearly whites and dazzled me with his golden eyes. I nearly fell over.
‘Hi, you must be Polly. I’m Sam Weston, the director of this motley crew. I’m so sorry, we obviously parked in completely the wrong field. Is your husband going to be livid?’
I went for his extended hand enthusiastically – so enthusiastically that I nearly missed and shot up his armpit – and flashed my very best smile in return.
‘Oh no, not in the least, it really couldn’t matter less!’ I gushed.
‘Well, that’s a relief, I thought perhaps he was planning to sue us before we’d even started!’
‘Ha ha! Good Lord no, don’t be silly, he’s delighted you’re here, can’t wait to meet you, in fact!’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, he used to be in the ad business himself, you see, so he’s terrifically interested, can’t wait to get – you know – involved again!’
‘Great! Well, I’ll tell you what, we need a few long shots of the house, so we’ll probably stay down here for a bit, but once that’s done I’ll pop up and say hello, shall I? Explain what we’re going to be doing?’
‘Oh do, do – although, er, actually,’ I said hastily, ‘he’s pretty busy with the sheep at the moment, but do pop up anyway. I’d love to hear your plans and, um, familiarize myself with your shooting schedule.’
I was rather pleased with this last little throwaway remark, remembered from my own days in the business.
I thought Sam looked suitably impressed, if a little surprised. ‘Er, yes, of course, I’d be happy to run through the schedule with you if that’s what you’d like.’
‘Great! Two o’clock suit you?’
Sam looked a little taken aback. Steady, Polly, steady.
‘Well, actually, we’ll probably be right in the middle of shooting then, but when I get a moment I promise I’ll come up.’
‘Oh, yes, well, whenever,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m pretty busy myself, of course, got loads to do.’ Stop it, Polly, you’re behaving like some sort of frustrated housewife from the sticks; get a grip. I gave him an earnest, businesslike look. ‘Now, is there anything I can get you? Tea? Coffee? Cold drinks for the crew?’
‘Good Lord no, that’s kind, but we bring our own catering service.’
‘Oh really? Where?’
He turned and pointed. ‘Big Winnibago in the far corner there, see?’
I turned and looked in the direction he was indicating but couldn’t see anyone of that description, only a large sort of caravan affair.
‘I see, well if Big Winnie wants any help you be sure to let me know, OK?’ I smiled winningly.
Sam looked a bit confused ‘Er … right, thanks.’
Josh tapped him on the arm ‘Sam, a word …’
‘The big Winnibago’s a catering truck, you moron,’ muttered Pippa in my ear, ‘not a fat tea lady.’
‘Oh!’ I blushed.
Sam and Josh were deep in discussion now and looked as if they were about to wander off, when suddenly Sam turned back. He smiled.
‘Oh, and listen, Polly, please don’t worry. I promise everything will be left just exactly as we found it, no broken fences or open gates or anything like that. We’re quite capable of keeping the country code. You won’t even know we’ve been here; we’ll be no trouble at all.’
He flashed his dazzling smile straight into my eyes and I felt a certain amount of knee tremble coming on. Gosh, he was attractive, and what easy self-assurance.
‘Oh, I’m quite sure you won’t be,’ I said breathlessly, ‘and don’t worry – we’re delighted to have you, really!’
‘Thanks, and now if you’ll excuse me I must get on. See you a bit later, I hope?’
By now I was absolutely charmed to the marrow. I opened my mouth to be equally charming back but was heavily out of practice and nothing came out, at least nothing coherent, just a sort of imbecilic squawk of pleasure. Luckily he’d already turned to Josh.
‘Josh, a word about the light. I’m not convinced it’s quite right yet so what I propose to do is this …’ They wandered off deep in discussion.
‘Wow,’ I muttered when my voice had resurfaced.
‘What?’ said Pippa.
‘Well, he’s all right, isn’t he?’
‘Who, Sam?’
‘Yes, Sam, I think he’s divine. I’m surprised you’re not after him, Pippa.’
‘Oh no, he’s married.’
‘Well, so’s Josh.’
‘I know, but Sam’s happily married, adores his wife. Anyway, what d’you mean? What’s wrong with Josh?’
‘Oh, nothing, nothing,’ I said hastily. ‘He’s lovely, I just thought Sam was more sort of your type, that’s all.’
‘Why, because he’s tall, darkish and handsome? I’m not that obvious, Polly. Josh may not be an oil painting but he’s a jolly nice guy, and looks aren’t everything, you know.’
‘No, no, of course not,’ I said hastily. I’d obviously offended her in a big way. ‘Tell you what, Pippa, I know you’re supposed to eat with the crew and everything, but why don’t you and Josh have supper with us tonight?’
Pippa looked pleased. ‘Oh, that would be brilliant! D’you know, in all the time we’ve been together I’ve never once been able to have supper with friends or do anything normal, it’s so frustrating, but – oh God, wouldn’t it look a bit obvious? A bit of a foursome? I’m sure Josh would think so.’
‘Well, I’ll ask Sam too if you like, that way he could fill Nick in on his plans.’
‘Oh, OK, good idea.’ She brightened considerably and took my arm as we wandered off. ‘I know you’re going to love Josh when you get to know him – Nick will too, he’s just his type.’
‘Er, yes, I’m sure.’
Actually I couldn’t think of anyone less Nick’s type, he was more the type he’d run a mile from, but I’d brief him to be tolerant for Pippa’s sake.
‘Got to go.’ Pippa squeezed my arm. ‘I’m supposed to be working, remember?’
She ran off to join the others.
I sat on the fence for a while and watched. Huge lights were being lifted out of vans and erected, people were moving props about and shouting to one other, make-up was being applied, hair was being coiffed, the whole place was buzzing with glamorous, frenetic activity. After a while my bottom began to feel numb, so I took one last lingering look, jumped off the fence and hurried back to the house, fizzing inwardly. As I galloped through the long grass I noticed how green and spring-like everything was and surprised myself by leaping the fence into the garden with uncharacteristic energy. I wondered, slightly nervously, if perhaps my sap was rising too, and if so why. Well, why not, I retorted. It wasn’t often a dashing film director graced my dinner table, was it? This called for some serious glamour. I’d think big. So big that eight inches of extremely small pink skirt would u
ndoubtedly make an appearance. I hurried excitedly into the house.
Chapter Seven
‘You did what!’ thundered Nick over the tomato salad half an hour later.
‘I asked them to supper, that’s all.’
‘That’s all! Christ, Polly, isn’t it enough that I have these people making free with my property during the day? Do you really think I want to entertain them in the evening as well?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Nick,’ I snapped, ‘stop being so bloody pompous, you’re behaving like an anally retentive Guards officer! OK, so you didn’t want them here in the first place, but –’
‘Too right!’
‘– but now that they’re here, why can’t you just loosen up a bit and enjoy it? It makes a change to have something going on around here, to have some fun, for God’s sake!’
‘Polly, you may think it’s fun to be mingling with these precious arty types – and my God, are they precious, I came into my own kitchen half an hour ago to find some middle-aged trendy called Josh maniacally sponging his white jeans and wailing about a little bit of mud – but excuse me if I don’t share your enthusiasm! You haven’t got to trail around behind them shutting gates, mending fences –’
‘They promised they wouldn’t do that. Sam – he’s the director – he gave me his word there’d be no damage.’
‘Well, bully for Sam, a media man’s word is his bond, I’m sure. Tell him to take a look at the barley field before he makes any more rash promises.’
‘Nick, what exactly is wrong with being a media man?’ I snarled. ‘We can’t all make wholesome livings in the fresh air on our inherited farms, you know. Some people have to work in offices, and correct me if I’m wrong but I believe you were once a media man yourself, or have you forgotten?’
‘No, I haven’t forgotten, and I absolutely hated it, as you well know, which is precisely why I find it inconceivable that you actually invited these detestable people down here in the first place!’
I ground my teeth and leaned over the salad, slopping vinaigrette on my T-shirt. ‘Nick,’ I spat, ‘these “detestable people”, as you so charmingly put it, include, number one, my very best friend in the world, and number two, the man she intends to spend the rest of her life with. She’s extremely keen to introduce us to Josh and I for one am keen to get to know him!’
Going Too Far Page 9