His mobile vibrated in his pocket as he walked up the hill. Caspar raised his eyebrows when he saw who was calling. The woman from Catch a Star.
“Hi, Juno.”
“Caspar. I have a job for you.”
Good thing he had a tight hold of the bottle because Caspar stumbled. Then he remembered this was a scam.
“A job?” he asked.
“Yep. Nice and simple. One hour’s modeling for a hundred pounds.”
Caspar blinked. “What’s the catch? What do I need to fork out for? Clothes? Makeup? Travel to the Outer Hebrides?”
“No catch. It’s a local job. Near Buxton.”
“They know what they’re getting? You only took a couple of shots outside that café.”
“You’re perfect and they’ll pay in cash.”
A hundred pounds? He licked his dry lips. “When?”
“Monday morning. It’s in a small village. Wyndale. Do you know it?”
“Yes, I—” Caspar changed his mind about telling her he lived there. “I know it.” A coincidence? It had to be. All he’d given Juno was his phone number.
“They want you at eleven Monday morning. Morton’s Adventure Center. I’ll meet you there. Don’t let me down. I see big things for you, Caspar. This is just the start.”
Caspar stuffed his phone back in his pocket. No way would Tom Morton want Caspar modeling for his business. Maybe it was some outdoor clothing manufacturer using Tom’s premises. Caspar sighed. Did it matter who or what? A hundred quid was a hundred quid.
As he turned into the drive leading up to Wyndale Hall, a limousine with blacked-out windows swept past him and slammed to a halt, coughing up a cloud of dust. Caspar pressed his lips together and kept walking toward the Gatehouse.
He’d turned the key in the lock when someone called, “Hey! Wait a minute.”
When Caspar turned, he saw the pert backside of a woman leaning into a car. She yanked out her purse and then waved as the vehicle continued up the drive. When she turned, his eyes widened. Sherry Moon. He’d not seen her in— She flung herself into his arms and he staggered into his door.
“Caspar. I thought it was you. I’d recognize that lovely bum anywhere.”
“Hi, Sherry.” He was so shocked to see her he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
“No, silly.” She snuggled closer. “I’m Lina now.”
She was a lot leaner. Sherry—Lina Moon had been in the same Cambridge college as Caspar. They’d dated for a while until she’d proved to be a worse influence on him than he was on her. She’d been fashionably thin then, but now she looked almost anorexic.
“You’re with the film crew?” Caspar asked.
She preened in front of him and stuck a pose with her hands in the air. “You’re looking at Jane Eyre.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Congratulations.”
“I was so excited when I heard where we were filming. I recognized your father’s name and hoped I’d see you. Is this where you live?”
“Yes.”
Lina laughed. “Not quite with your mum and dad then. Show me round?” She pushed open the door and went in. Caspar sighed and followed.
“Ah dinky stairs, sweet kitchen.” She whirled around like a dervish and Caspar listened to her describe his tatty home in glowing terms, knowing she didn’t mean a word and not actually caring what she thought.
She’d been like this in Cambridge, flitting from one society to another, one guy to another. The butterfly, they’d called her. A pretty girl, now she was a gorgeous woman with long dark hair cascading to her shoulders, exquisite skin, pale blue eyes and a button nose. She wore skin-tight designer jeans, an off-the-shoulder fluffy white sweater, and Caspar felt absolutely nothing. My God, what’s the matter with me?
He put the bottle of champagne in the fridge while she looked around upstairs, still providing him with a running commentary about his amazing pictures, his darling bed, his sweet bathroom. Hard to believe she had a brain, but then she’d only scraped through her exams because she’d been busy sleeping with her professors, among others. While she was still chattering, Caspar used the downstairs loo.
When he came out, she was still talking, though now from the kitchen. Caspar heard a pop and groaned.
“Where are your glasses?” Lina shouted. “S’okay. Found them.”
He pushed open the door to find her pouring champagne.
“Don’t mind, do you? I thought we should celebrate meeting up again.”
Pointless to be churlish now that the bottle was open, but Caspar did mind. He minded a lot.
“Are you late for a meeting?” He wondered if he could re-cork the bottle and rush around to Ally’s before the fizz disappeared.
“They can wait. I am so excited about this. Such a fabulous role. Well, not the first part when she’s miserable but later, after she meets Rochester.” Lina released a theatrical sigh.
“How does Sean McAlister feel about having to look twenty years older than you?”
Lina scowled. “Who cares? He’s a pig.” She sidled closer to Caspar and her face lit with a smile. “Thank goodness you’re here.” She shoved an empty glass in his face. “Fill me up and fill me in on what you’ve been up to.”
Christ.
* * * * *
The encounter in the woods had shaken Ally. Once she was back in Finn’s house, she thought she’d feel better, but her heart still raced. Sad as she was for the deer, it was that split second when she imagined she’d been shot that occupied her mind. No way was she going back to get the colander or the blackberries. Maybe she could bake a couple of apples, though she didn’t have any dried fruit to stuff inside.
Caspar might have some.
Ally knew she’d invented a reason to go and see him but she needed a hug. She locked the door and ran up the road. If Caspar didn’t like apples, she’d go into the village and buy ice-cream and a couple of Mars bars to melt over it.
The door opened and Ally smiled, readying to jump into his arms.
“Yes?” asked a petite, willowy brunette.
Ally’s smile died, killed partly by the fact that this was probably the prettiest woman she’d ever seen but more by the fact that she held a fizzing glass of what looked like champagne.
Fool, fool, fool. The bottom of Ally’s world fell away to leave her teetering on the edge of a chasm of disappointment.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” Ally said, proud of the way her voice didn’t crack. “Would you give Caspar a message, please? Tell him he’s expected for mountain rescue training at seven tomorrow morning at the foot of Tyburn Crag.”
Miss Elegant raised one eyebrow. “Seven? He doesn’t usually get up that early.”
Ally managed a tight smile. She turned away and walked up the hill instead of down, heading toward the dark gritstone crags that overlooked the village. Her head ached. She could make all sorts of excuses, but she didn’t have the energy. And yes, she knew she was jumping to conclusions, judging Caspar without knowing all the facts, just as the village had over his imprisonment. But Ally knew that wasn’t another sister or his cousin or platonic friend. Knew it was the real thing in that glass. Knew that on her best day, she’d come in a poor second to Miss Quirked Eyebrow.
The lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. Ally stood and watched the climbers for a while. They looked like brightly colored sloths as they made their way up the rock face. Everyone had warned her what Caspar was like. Ally didn’t want to be like the others, but maybe she was.
She took the easy route to the top, walking the long way round, and then stood shivering in the wind, looking down on a jigsaw puzzle of fields and villages. Everything fit together, and from up here, it appeared so neat and tidy. The green fields looked combed, the drystone walls ran straight and even. Ally found a sheltered place to sit with boulders on three sides. She slumped down out of the wind and lifted her tear-stained face to the September sun. When she was fit to be seen, she’d go back.
* * * * *
By the time Caspar bounded downstairs in dry pants, having spilled the champagne when Lina grabbed him, the door was closed.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“Some woman with a message. You’ve got mountain rescue training tomorrow at seven. Meet at the foot of Tyburn Crag. Seven? Are they mad? You never got out of bed—”
“What did she look like?”
“Tall, blonde, slight bruise on her cheek.”
Caspar’s stomach lurched. “Oh shit. Right. You’re leaving. I have to go out.” Ally would have the wrong idea and the faster he put her right, the better.
Lina pouted. “Well give me a lift up to the house first. I’m late for the meeting with the director and your parents.”
“No car.”
Caspar bustled her out and locked the door behind him. One pink rose remained on the bush by his garden wall and Caspar broke it off as he went past.
He ran down the hill to Stone Cottage and spotted a florist’s van parked on the drive. Caspar passed the delivery guy as he returned to his vehicle.
“She’s not in, mate,” the guy said. He nodded to the rose in Caspar’s hand and smirked. “I think you’ve been out-classed.”
Caspar waited until he’d gone before he took the last few steps to Ally’s door. He bent to look at the card fastened to an enormous bouquet of flowers.
I’ve been an idiot. Forgive me? I know you still love me and I love you. I’ve something I want to ask you. Get ready to say yes. All my love, Mark.
Caspar felt as if ice water had been pumped into his veins. Ally had lied. She said no one knew she was here, but she’d obviously managed to tell her supposed ex-boyfriend, who sounded very confident his affection would be returned. Caspar walked home, plucking a petal from the rose every couple of yards and throwing it down. She loves me. She loves me not.
The last one hit the ground. She loves me. Yeah, right.
Chapter Eleven
Once Ally’s tears had gone, she made her way back down the hill. This wasn’t like her. She had a stronger spine, strengthened by constant disappointments in early childhood. No presents. No party. No friends coming to play because she’d been moved on yet again, passed from one family to another, back to a care home, back to her mum—though that never lasted long. And teased because she didn’t know the name of her father.
This was salvageable. She wanted to run but she’d give Caspar a chance to explain, though he had to come to her. Not that he owed her an explanation. Heavy petting aside, she hardly knew him. They were on the verge of something, but they hadn’t stepped over the brink into a relationship. Maybe he’d never intended they would. Ally clenched her fists. She’d fought so hard to repress her insecurity and now she could feel its tentacles tightening, making it hard to breathe.
As Ally walked past Caspar’s place, she noticed a prickly green stem lying on the path and then a trail of pink rose petals. She followed them all the way to her door with a growing smile on her face and found a massive bunch of flowers wrapped in cellophane.
Caspar? Except that had been awfully quick and he had no money. Her joy wavered. Ally’s fingers shook as she removed the card.
Her shoulders tensed. How the hell did Mark know her address? Bloody Emma. But it was Ally’s fault. She knew Emma was incapable of keeping her mouth shut. Ally had answered text messages from friends wanting to know if she was okay and surviving the countryside, so she already knew Emma had ignored her request not to tell where she was staying. Though friends were one thing, Mark something else entirely.
Ally thought about the trail of petals she’d followed, put two and two together and felt pretty sure she’d made four. After Ally had gone to Caspar’s place and seen the woman, Caspar had come here, bearing a rose. He’d found the flowers, read the card and walked away, pulling off petals as he went.
Shit. They’d both jumped to conclusions.
Ally picked up the bouquet and carried it to a fenced-off enclosure near the road where the dustbins were stored. As she reached to pull the gate open, it sprang toward her and she let out a shriek.
“Sorry, sorry,” said a tall, dark-haired guy. “I was dumping some trash.”
Ally gulped at the American accent and gulped harder at the sight of Sean MacAlister’s famous chiseled face.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“You made me jump.”
He offered up his trademark grin. “Think I was a thief?”
“Only a big rat would steal from the garbage,” Ally said.
He laughed. “How I love English humor.” He nodded at the flowers. “You don’t want those?”
“The sentiment behind them makes me want to throw up. Would you like them?”
“Why not?”
Ally pulled off Mark’s card and tossed it in a bin.
“We’re neighbors?” he asked as he and Ally set off back up the drive.
“Are we?” Belatedly Ally realized that all the cottages but hers shone with lights. “Oh right. Somewhere to stay while you’re filming at Wyndale Hall.”
“So you do know who I am?”
“Of course. How could I fail to recognize Devlin Quinn.”
He roared with laughter. Devlin Quinn was a former professional wrestler turned actor, almost seven feet tall and built like a jumbo jet.
“You’re not allowed to do that while you’re playing Mr. Rochester,” Ally said. “Jane Eyre isn’t a barrel of laughs.”
“Especially not when you’ve fallen out with your costar,” he mumbled.
“Ah. Hence the flowers. What did you do?”
“Hey? Who said I did anything?”
Ally stared at him and raised her eyebrows and he laughed.
“Actors and actresses. How could it ever work? We’re far too self-absorbed and constantly need our egos stroked. Much better to find someone not in the business to do the stroking for us.” The look he gave Ally was decidedly carnal. “What’s your name?”
“Sister Mary Elizabeth Teresa Bernadette.”
His shoulders shook as he chuckled.
“Otherwise known as Ally.”
“Nice to meet you, Ally. You live in this end house? I thought all five had been booked.”
Reality hit like a thump in the stomach. “Oh fuck,” she whispered under her breath.
“Watch out.” Sean pulled Ally to one side as a car roared up behind them.
A vehicle with blacked-out windows came to a halt outside Stone Cottage.
“The ice-maiden cometh,” he said, his gaze fixed on the vehicle.
Somehow it wasn’t a surprise to Ally when the woman she’d last seen holding a glass of champagne in Caspar’s house stepped from the car.
“Wish me luck,” Sean whispered. He plastered a smile on his face and rushed up to the vehicle. “Sweetheart. Lina. For you.” He held out Ally’s bouquet.
Ally sidled around the back of the car and made for the house. Please let me be wrong. Please, please, please.
“What are you doing?” the woman called.
Ally didn’t want that to have been aimed at her but knew it was. She turned to see Miss Perfect stalking down the path, holding the flowers, followed by a man in a chauffeur’s cap and Sean McAlister, each pulling two enormous suitcases.
“I live here,” Ally said.
“You can’t possibly live here. Stone Cottage has been rented for my exclusive use.”
Ally couldn’t see any way out of this. Finn hadn’t known she was here. He’d probably got some fabulous sum for letting his house out.
“Are you squatting?” the woman asked. “God, you are! Sean, call the police.”
“Look, hang on a moment,” Ally said. “My brother owns this place. There’s obviously been a mix-up. I didn’t know he’d rented it out. If you’d just give me a few minutes to pack up my stuff, I’ll leave. Okay?”
Ally didn’t wait for an answer. She used her key and walked in. She could hear them pottering around downstairs as she packed. Her heart ached
. How much more could go wrong with her life? This was supposed to be a new start. She’d found someone she really liked and now she might have lost him to the woman who was throwing her out of her new home. It was like some TV soap.
When Sean saw her struggling with her cases, he came to help.
“Thanks.”
“Got somewhere to go?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” There could never be any other answer. Ally wasn’t a quitter.
Once her cases were by the door, she made for the fridge.
Lina stamped over and glared. “What are you doing now?”
“Taking my food.” Ally packed everything into plastic carriers and hauled them to the door.
“Mac? I want this place cleaned,” Lina said into her phone. “Get someone here now.”
Ally hooked the carriers over her arms and wheeled out the cases.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Lina snapped, and held out her hand.
“What?” Ally asked.
“Your keys.”
“I’m not giving you my keys. You have your own and you have my word that while you’re staying here, I won’t use mine.”
The garage was another matter. Finn had private stuff in there—his bike, mountaineering gear and his wine. And possibly his sister if she couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep.
The moment the door closed behind her, Ally knew there was no way she could move the food and the cases. She shifted things in stages, taking the cases first and then walking back twice for the bags. Luckily, the garage for Stone Cottage stood on its own, facing the main road and not the house.
Ally unlocked the side door, switched on the light and heaved her stuff inside. Finn’s sun loungers were propped up in the corner, the cushions wrapped in plastic. In the opposite corner, a tap with a hose would provide water, but with no toilet, Ally couldn’t live here for any length of time.
She imagined herself turning up at Caspar’s with her cases. Him opening the door and her asking, “Can I move in?” Ally winced. Much too soon. He was far more likely to be amenable to, “Can I stay the night?” Maybe not even that if he and Lina were an item. But then the trail of rose petals didn’t make sense. Ally wasn’t going to walk away without knowing the truth. It was too easy to think the worst and sink into a decline. She’d find out the truth and then sink into a decline. The thought brought a little smile to her face.
Kiss a Falling Star Page 12