Claiming Victory: A Romantic Comedy

by Beverley Watts

‘Bloody tourists,’ the Admiral muttered, as they fought their way through the throng of people surrounding the ship, and made their way towards the relatively sedate quiet of Greenwich Park.

  Although most famous for Greenwich meantime, the world heritage site also housed the baroque splendour of the Old Royal Naval College, once a legendary bastion of British naval officer training, and now one of the top film locations in the UK. The Bridegroom was only the latest in a long line of movies filmed within its hallowed halls.

  As they walked through the beautifully manicured grounds, the Admiral glanced furtively around, looking for anybody he recognized, preferably without them recognizing him back. ‘Reckon they’re most likely to be filming in the Painted Hall,’ he confided to Jimmy in a low whisper designed to thwart any nosy parkers listening in – even though the nearest person to them was at least fifty yards away. As Jimmy pointed this fact out, the Admiral gave an exasperated shake of his head at his friend’s obtuseness.

  ‘What the bloody hell’s wrong with you Jimmy? he retorted in his usual condescending tone. ‘I sometimes think you’d be out of your depth in a bloody car park puddle. You of all people should know that things aren’t always what they seem on the surface...’ Then suddenly remembering the importance of not upsetting his only ally, he clapped his friend on the back and continued hurriedly, ‘But of course, I’m forgetting you don’t have my experience in matters of British Intelligence, so we’ll say no more on the matter.’ Striding away, he didn’t notice Jimmy’s narrowed eyes and tight lips, and thus had no inkling that his relationship with his oldest friend was on the brink of changing – perhaps not radically, after all, there was rank etiquette to maintain – but no longer would Jimmy follow his hero blindly. He’d said as much to Emily, and actually her response had been quite gratifying…

  Feeling somewhat mollified, Jimmy hurried after the Admiral, who was now skulking behind one of the stone pillars about twenty yards away from the porticoed entrance to the Painted Hall, currently cordoned off from the public. A small crowd of mostly women gathered outside the barricade suggested they’d probably come to the right place, and, nodding his head towards the grand doorway, the Admiral pointed at Jimmy, indicating the smaller man should go and check it out. ‘Why me Sir?’ Jimmy’s response was a heated whisper causing the Admiral to sigh at his friend’s continued dim-wittedness. ‘Less likely to recognize you,’ he responded in a low tone, then aiming for a note of encouragement, ‘Come on Jimmy lad, it’s just like old times…’

  Rolling his eyes, Jimmy nevertheless allowed himself to be shoved unceremoniously out of their hiding place, and, making an effort to look inconspicuous, walked nonchalantly towards the small crowd hovering around the cordoned entrance. Five minutes later he was back. ‘They’re definitely in there,’ he said without bothering to lower his voice this time. ‘Apparently they’re filming in the Upper Hall. Been there all morning.’

  The Admiral frowned at this news, glancing back at the crowd waiting patiently to see their idols. ‘Well we can’t wait here,’ he said finally. ‘We won’t even get a look in with this bloody lot.’

  Both men fell silent for a few minutes, pondering their next move. ‘What about the car?’ blurted Jimmy suddenly, grasping the Admiral’s arm in excitement. He won’t have walked here that’s for sure. We’ll nab him just as he gets in the car.’ The Admiral opened his mouth to make an objection, but closed it again when he couldn’t find anything to disagree with. It was risky, but what else were they going to do?

  They took it in turns to pop over to the toilets in the Visitor Centre, keeping their mobile phones handy in case of any sudden action. After two hours, Jimmy declared he was bloody starving and announced he was off to get them both some scran, almost giving the Admiral a coronary by going off without requesting permission. For the first time, Charles Shackleford felt the chill winds of change coming. Still, he couldn’t deny the ham sandwich definitely hit the spot.

  After another half an hour of inaction, there was a sudden flurry of activity near the Hall entrance as a sleek black limousine drove slowly up from the East Gate. ‘Come on Jimmy lad, we’re on,’ shouted the Admiral, stealth obviously gone out of the window in his haste to get into position. The group of fans surged towards the car from the back, as the Admiral and Jimmy rushed forward to the front, and they spent precious seconds jostling for the position closest to the rear door facing the entrance.

  Two minutes and a potential black eye later, the doors to the Painted Hall opened, and out walked Noah Westbrook accompanied by what looked like two security types. The Admiral’s heart sank. He knew it, he was buggered. He’d never get near the actor now. He had seconds to come up with a plan before Noah spotted him. Unfortunately, for once in his life, his mind was a total blank, and grinding his teeth in frustration, the Admiral waited, knowing the exact moment Noah’s eyes fastened on him in recognition. Stopping, the actor turned to speak in a low voice to one of his companions and the Admiral realized it was now or never. Grabbing hold of a startled Jimmy, he leaned against the small man and groaned loudly.

  Unfortunately, the excited chatter of the fans drowned his efforts and he knew the situation called for more drastic action. ‘For Victory,’ he mumbled to himself before stepping forward and keeling over, practically at Noah Westbrook’s feet, in what appeared to be either a dead faint or just plain dead…

  Lying face down on the gravel, the Admiral could hear the slightly panicked squeals as individuals backed off from his prostrate body, and, resisting the urge to chuckle, he let out a convincing moan. For a few heart stopping seconds nothing happened, until eventually any inclination to snigger disappeared with the realization there was a distinct possibility Noah was going to simply step over him to get to the car. Hurriedly he let out a louder, more theatrical groan and to his relief, a pair of shoes appeared next to his head.

  ‘Well Admiral,’ drawled a familiar voice in his ear, ‘Your family obviously has a predilection for throwing yourselves at my feet.’ The Admiral had no idea what Noah was talking about, so instead of attempting to speak, he opted for a credible whimper, wishing that the man would get a bloody move on and help him to his feet - it was damn cold on this stone. Sighing, Noah rose from his crouch, and a couple of seconds later hands lifted him non too gently up from the floor and helped him into the back seat of the limousine. He risked a quick wink at Jimmy who was staring in open mouthed amazement at the Admiral’s performance, then the door shut. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back with an exaggerated sigh, just as Noah climbed in from the other side.

  ‘You can cut the melodramatics now Admiral,’ came Noah’s dry voice as they pulled away. ‘I’ll have the driver drop you off at the nearest tube station.’

  The Admiral opened his eyes quickly, recognizing he only had minutes at best to plead Victory’s case. Glancing over at Noah’s stony expression, he took a deep breath and dropped his act. He still had no idea how he was going to convince Noah of his daughter’s innocence in the whole sordid affair. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was going to have to come clean about his own involvement. Unfortunately, coming clean about anything was not one of Charles Shackleford’s strong points…

  In the end it took him forty five minutes to convince Noah that Tory had known nothing about the newspaper article, and the Admiral had no doubt about the exact second the actor finally believed him. The relief in Noah’s face was palpable.

  ‘I swear all I did was give the bloody reporter a couple of hints about you and Victory,’ he finished finally. ‘I just wanted to give you a bit of a nudge in the right direction. Didn’t want Tory left high and dry after you’d finished with her.’

  ‘What, like now you mean?’ Noah interrupted coldly. The Admiral ducked his head in acknowledgement of his own stupidity before continuing, ‘I didn’t know anything about the other stuff lad. I’ve no bloody idea where he got his information from – I just know it weren’t my Victory.’

  There was
silence for a few minutes as Noah processed everything the Admiral had told him. ‘So how did you get the name of this reporter?’ he asked eventually.

  The Admiral paused before he answered, a horrible sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that for once wasn’t over indulgence.

  ‘It was Gaynor Andrews. She gave me the number.’

  Chapter Twenty Two

  I can’t believe it’s the beginning of July already and a whole month since my world fell apart. Well maybe that’s a tad overdramatic but believe me, if misery had a name, it would be Tory Shackleford. The only slight positive in the whole hideous situation is that I’ve lost a few pounds. I’ve been trying so hard to keep myself busy and I’m gradually getting to the point where I can go a whole ten minutes without thinking about Noah. Luckily The Bridegroom isn’t coming out until next year and I’m really hoping my broken heart will have at least sorted out a patch up job by then.

  You see, positive thinking…

  The paparazzi camped outside the Admiralty gave up after a couple of weeks, since they couldn’t track me down and both Noah and Gaynor steadfastly refused to comment. Oh they made up a few things, got the odd friend of a friend of a friend to share a couple of colourful, though mostly bullshit, anecdotes, but there’s only so long a story can run when there really is nothing new to add to it.

  So here I am, life back to normal. I’ve not seen much of my father. I think broken-hearted daughters are not really his thing. I know he doesn’t know what to say to me, spends most of his time tiptoeing around the house like somebody’s died. It’s actually so far from my father’s normal behaviour, it’s downright creepy. So, to help him out, I’ve been spending as much time as I can at the gallery - when I’m not out and about costing up some really amazing design projects. Seems notoriety is not always a bad thing because business has never been so good…

  Today’s Sunday, so there’s no hurry to get started. Dotty and I are taking our time, opting for a pleasant stroll instead the usual sprint down the garden to grab the ferry on its way over. To be fair, the strolling bit is me – Dotty is doing her usual mad dash up and down, barking at anything with a pulse. Noisy though she is, I can’t help but smile. The little dog has been my lifeline over the last few weeks. I really don’t know what I’d have done without her, Kit and Freddy.

  As we exit the garden near the ferry slipway, I put Dotty on her leash, noting the queue of cars waiting to cross over the river is getting longer as the summer progresses. It’ll soon be impossible to park anywhere in Dartmouth.

  Dotty starts trembling the second the ferry arrives and I pick her up while I walk up the slipway, avoiding the cars filing slowly past us as they board. As the ferry moves away from the shore, I lean against the railing, Dotty securely in my arms, and watch the hive of activity up and down the Dart. It’s a beautiful summer day and it seems nearly everyone and his dog is out on the water. I can’t help but wish I’d had the time to take Noah sailing. I imagine us heading up the river to the Anchorstone café situated right on the edge of the river Dart in the tiny village of Dittisham. Today would have been perfect for an al fresco seafood lunch. I picture us sharing a bottle of wine on the outside terrace overlooking the water. Noah would have loved it. I can see his laughing face so clearly in my head that an unexpected wave of longing hits me - so intense that I almost want to scream. Turning away from the picturesque view, I stumble to a seat and sit, blinking back the tears that threaten to swamp me. ‘For God sake get a grip girl,’ I mumble to myself, taking a deep breath as I realize we’ve reached the other side. Hurriedly I disembark and walk quickly towards the town centre, all thoughts of a slow leisurely start now overtaken by the need to hide away in my office sanctuary.

  The gallery door is open for business when I arrive, but, to my dismay, the inside is packed with holiday makers. Sighing, I pick Dotty up again, and mumbling ‘Excuse me,’ I squeeze carefully past the largely oblivious visitors. As I weave my way through, I spot Kit at the other side of the shop and give her a cursory wave without stopping, determined to reach my refuge before I humiliate myself by bursting into tears. As I finally pause to put Dotty down in front of the office door, I realize with surprise that it’s shut, and, frowning slightly, I give it an experimental shove, breathing a small sigh of relief to find it unlocked. Before I have chance to open it properly, I hear Kit call my name urgently and glance back to give her a reassuring smile and return her wave. The poor love is still so protective of me. Then, completely unaware of the frantic war dance she’s doing behind my back, I turn and push the door open the rest of the way.

  Where Noah Westbrook is sitting waiting for me.

  I stop just inside the door, heart hammering in my chest as I watch him slowly rise from the chair. I have absolutely no idea what to do. Dotty of course has no such inhibitions and throws herself at him barking joyfully. As he bends down to fuss the little dog, I remain rooted to the spot, staring silently at the face that has haunted my dreams, waking and sleeping, for the past month. Then he straightens up and stares back at me.

  ‘Why are you here?’ I whisper finally, unable to stop the tears from coursing down my cheeks.

  Seeing my distress, he takes a step towards me, and I back up, holding out my hand to ward him away. ‘Why are you here?’ I ask again, my voice cracking.

  He closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. Then, ‘I’m here to tell you how sorry I am,’ he murmurs softly, achingly, his incredible eyes never leaving mine. ‘I’m here to ask you to forgive me. I know it wasn’t you who leaked the story to the press. I have no excuse for the way I’ve treated you except to say it’s so damn easy to believe the worst of everyone in this business, even when it’s someone I’d trust with my life.’

  I shake my head in disbelief at his words, at his gentle tone, after the cold expressionless man I’d seen in London. Shuddering, I wrap my arms around my middle and continue to stare at him wordlessly.

  Groaning, he runs his fingers through his hair. ‘I love you Tory.’ His voice this time is harsh with emotion and need. ‘I didn’t know what love was until you came into my life. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I…’ He pauses, closing his eyes briefly, before pleading, his voice now almost a whisper. ‘Please Tory.’

  I gaze silently at him for a few more seconds, taking in his clenched hands and anguished face and I realize that incredibly, unbelievably, everything he’s saying is true. Noah Westbrook is in love with me.

  And he doesn’t expect me to believe him.

  Taking a deep breath, I relax, allowing my arms to drop by my side, all the while holding his tormented gaze. ‘I love you too,’ I say simply, quietly. ‘I have since the first moment I saw you.’

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, he strides forward to pull me unresisting into his arms. Holding me tight, he tracks kisses from my head to my ear, his velvety voice like a heated caress over my skin, then his lips find mine, hot, demanding and I stop thinking altogether.

  When Kit finally ventures into the office twenty minutes later, I’m firmly ensconced in Noah’s lap. I was a bit worried at first that he’d need resuscitating if I sat on him too long, but since he’s holding me like he has no intention of ever letting me go, I’ve decided to give in and relax…

  Definitely lost a few pounds.

  ~*~

  Turns out that the whole story was leaked by Gaynor. Apparently she got the idea when my father drunkenly confided his fears about my relationship with Noah to her on the night of the music festival. She agreed that he should put out a few hints to the press and gave him the number of a reporter who owed her a favour. She then anonymously added to my father’s relatively humdrum information with a story that the press would kill to get hold of…

  Why? Noah says he doesn’t know. He can’t understand why on earth she would want the public to know something so private. Apparently as soon as Noah confronted her, she collapsed in floods of tears and told him she’d been tricked into giving the inf
ormation.

  As to the why? I think I know the answer. Gaynor Andrews is still in love with Noah and she believed it was only a matter of time until they got back together. When Noah admitted to her that he’d confided in me, she realized just how serious things were between us and thought she was on the verge of losing him forever. I think she hoped that by revealing the story to the whole world in a way that would garner public sympathy, and by putting the blame for the leak on me, it would split us up and throw the two of them together. In her eyes, it was the only way she stood a chance of getting him back.

  I don’t suppose I’ll ever know the whole truth. Gaynor has flown back to the States to lick her wounds. She’ll need to return to the UK in a few weeks to finish filming The Bridegroom, but that’s a problem for another day.

  Today I’ve found out that Noah Westbrook loves me. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but I’m living proof that dreams can and do come true and I’m grabbing hold of mine with both hands.

  I just know it’s going to be an amazing ride.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The limousine is cruising slowly through the crowds gathered outside the Empire Cinema in Leicester Square. The July evening is warm and sultry, perfect for the hundreds of fans waiting patiently to see their screen idols at the British Premier of The Bridegroom.

  My stomach is doing somersaults and I desperately need to go to the bathroom. Not that I’m going to be able to any time soon. The red strapless taffeta evening gown I’ve been poured into has definitely put paid to that. I look over at Noah sitting opposite me, magnificent in full evening dress and can’t help but think what the hell is this gorgeous person doing with me? Then he takes my hand with a smile and I see the love in his beautiful eyes and all of a sudden my nerves disappear. I smile back just as the car slows to a stop at the red carpet.

  ‘Well here we go then, sooner we get the boring bit over, the sooner we can head off for the shindig after.’ I look in exasperation at my father, resplendent in his mess undress that unfortunately smells of mothballs to anyone getting too close. ‘Please dad, don’t embarrass me tonight okay?’ He looks at me in complete surprise as though he couldn’t believe I’d even contemplate such a thing. He’s about to speak but then the door opens, and whatever he was going to say is lost.