The Picture House by the Sea

by Holly Hepburn

  Gina laughed. ‘Perfect. I wonder what Gorran is wearing.’

  ‘I know the answer to that too – he’s—’

  ‘No, don’t tell me,’ Gina said quickly, holding up her hands. ‘I want it to be a surprise.’

  ‘That’s not always a good thing where Gorran is concerned,’ Manda said doubtfully. ‘But I think this time you’re on safe ground.’

  Bidding Manda goodbye, Gina headed over to her grandparents’ house, hoping to borrow the Fiat and go to the Scarlet to pick up the oranges for Ferdie. But when she arrived, Elena told her he already had them.

  ‘He made me drive him over there first thing this morning,’ she grumbled. ‘I almost missed my yoga class. And he’s been locked away in the dairy ever since, experimenting.’

  Gina’s eyes widened. ‘He sounds keen.’

  ‘Obsessed, more like,’ Elena said. ‘But if it means he opens his mind to new flavours, who are we to complain?’

  By the end of Friday, Gina was relieved to see that ticket orders were starting to come in. With only a week to go, she’d started to wonder whether she’d left enough time to generate enough word-of-mouth support for the event but it looked as though her fears had been unfounded. A positive mention in the local paper had helped, and businesses around Polwhipple were supporting the Palace too, placing posters in their windows. The bartender at the Scarlet had emailed Gina his cocktail suggestion – a vodka, orange juice and Galliano concoction he’d called the ‘Moses Supposes’ that was the exact colour of the raincoats from the movie poster – and Gina couldn’t wait to see it, much less drink it.

  The quotes had come in from the builders who’d visited the Palace and Gina was both relieved and pleased to see Ben’s was the lowest. She added them to her application pack, hoping that Monday night’s meeting would be just a formality.

  She was halfway through a Chinese takeaway and Pretty Woman when her mobile rang. Glancing at the screen, she was amazed to see Max’s name there.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, trying not to sound as surprised as she felt. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Fine,’ he replied. She heard a jumble of voices in the background and guessed he was in a bar somewhere. ‘I meant to ring earlier but you know how it is. How are you?’

  Gina’s forehead wrinkled. She’d never known Max to call her from a bar before. ‘I’m fine. How are you?’

  ‘Good, thanks. Listen, I was thinking about our conversation the other day and I was just wondering . . . how do you fancy a house-mate for a few days?’

  ‘That would depend on who it was,’ she said cautiously, unsure where the conversation was going. What if Max was trying to wangle a free holiday for a client in the hope that it might swing a business deal his way?

  He laughed. ‘I meant me, Gina. I’ve managed to clear a few days’ mid-week and thought I could head down on Tuesday. What do you think?’

  Unbidden, an image of Ben popped into her head, sat opposite her on the train. ‘I think that sounds great,’ she said, pushing the image away. ‘But between Ferrelli’s and the Palace, I might be a bit tied up. I’ve got another eve—’

  ‘I’m sure I can find something to do while you’re busy,’ Max cut in as the noise level in the background increased. ‘Let’s have dinner one of the nights too – what about the Scarlet? I hear the food there is good.’

  ‘Sure,’ Gina said, a little taken aback. ‘I’ll book a table for Wednesday evening. But how—’

  ‘Great,’ he said, almost shouting now. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go. See you soon, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Gina said. ‘And thanks for this, Max. It means a lot.’

  ‘Yeah, to me too. Bye, Gina.’

  The line went dead. Lowering it to the sofa, Gina pressed Play on the remote control and Julia Roberts continued shopping. But Gina was so deep in thought that she barely registered the action on screen. It was very out of character for Max to cancel business meetings, although it wouldn’t be the first time he’d driven down to Polwhipple to see her. Maybe her plea had hit home the last time they’d spoken, or maybe he was just missing her, she thought, taking an absentminded mouthful of chicken chow mein. She’d ask him when he arrived. Just like she’d ask who had recommended the food at the Scarlet.

  Chapter Six

  Gina arrived at Polwhipple station just before midday on Sunday, a large bag of popcorn tucked under one arm and a tub of her grandfather’s brand new gelato flavour in her hand. The gates were wide open and parked outside the station itself was a red Audi TT. Gina’s heart sank. What possible reason could Rose Arundell have for being at Ben’s on a Sunday? What possible reason could she have for being at Ben’s any day of the week?

  Gina thought about turning back, but then she remembered Manda’s comment about Rose disliking her friendship with Ben and she squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t be intimidated by Rose – Ben was one of her oldest friends, after all, and they had plans.

  Pushing open the door of the station, she peered inside the ticket hall. ‘Hello? Ben?’

  Silence. Feeling a little like a trespasser, Gina crossed the tiled floor to the door leading out to the platform. There was no sign of anyone. Swallowing her misgivings, she made her way along the platform to the white fence at the end. Beyond it, she could see Ben’s home, the converted railway carriage parked in one of the sidings. Gina’s guts twisted unpleasantly; was Rose inside with Ben?

  The question was answered a few seconds later, just as Gina reached the bottom of the steps that led up to the carriage entrance. The door sprang open and Rose stood there, a triumphant smile on her face. Beyond her, Gina could see Ben, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing else.

  Rose glanced backwards. ‘Thanks, Ben,’ she said, her voice low and husky. ‘For everything.’

  She swept down the steps, pushing past Gina with just enough calculated force to make her stumble. Gina’s cheeks burned with fury and she longed to push the other woman back but she clenched her fists instead and counted to a long and uneven ten.

  Ben appeared in the doorway, his jaw shadowed with blond stubble, and saw her for the first time. His eyes widened. ‘Gina! Is that the time? Bloody hell, it’s not—’ He seemed to realise he was semi-naked and stepped back hurriedly. ‘Sorry, can you give me a minute?’

  Gina averted her gaze from his six-pack and stared at the gravel beneath her feet. ‘Of course,’ she said in a voice that sounded tight and angry even to her. ‘Take your time.’

  Still looking dazed, Ben stepped back and closed the door. Gina heard muffled thumps and curses and she guessed he was either trying to get dressed or tidying up – possibly both. A few minutes later, the door opened again. This time, he was wearing a Rip Curl T-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks to go with his jeans.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, giving her a look of sheepish embarrassment. ‘Come in.’

  Taking a deep breath, Gina climbed the steps. Once inside, she handed him the popcorn and ice-cream. ‘That will need to go in the freezer.’ She looked at him, trying to conceal her bewilderment and hurt at the same time as wondering why she felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach. ‘You’ve got lipstick on your cheek, by the way.’

  His hand flew to his cheek and he rubbed hard, smearing the peach mark and making it bigger. ‘Sorry,’ he said again, moving towards the door that led to the galley kitchen.

  Gina made an effort to pull herself together. ‘You don’t have to apologise, Ben. What you and Rose do is nothing to do with me.’

  He turned around. ‘But that’s just it – we haven’t been doing anything.’ His fingers touched his cheek. ‘At least, I haven’t done anything. Rose turned up around half an hour ago, ringing the bell on the door of the station. It rings in here too so I raced over there, thinking there was some kind of emergency, and she demanded I let her in so she could talk to me. I brought her over here because it was a bit nippy to hang around in the ticket office.’

  She stared at him, trying to decide whether o
r not she believed him. But why would he lie? He didn’t owe her an explanation. ‘You weren’t dressed? At eleven-thirty in the morning?’

  His cheeks turned rosy. ‘I was out with some mates in Newquay last night. It turned into a bit of a late one.’ He threw her a shame-faced look. ‘I’d probably still be in bed now if Rose hadn’t turned up, so in some ways I suppose it’s a good thing she did.’

  A whoosh of relief washed over Gina: Ben hadn’t spent the night with Rose, which was clearly what she’d wanted Gina to think. ‘But why was she here in the first place? What was so important?’

  He raised his hands in a helpless shrug. ‘That’s the weirdest thing – all she wanted to know was whether I was going to the Singin’ in the Rain screening as Gene Kelly’s character, Don Lockwood. Then she saw the DVD next to the TV and I explained you were coming over to watch it with me. After that, I couldn’t get rid of her, until you arrived.’

  He looked so confused that Gina took pity on him. ‘Are you hungover?’

  ‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘Nothing that a decent breakfast won’t fix.’

  Gina smiled. ‘Have you got bacon? And eggs?’

  He nodded. ‘In the kitchen. But—’

  ‘Put the ice-cream away and go and get in the shower,’ she ordered him kindly. ‘I’ll make you a fry up.’

  By the time he reappeared, fully clothed and clean-shaven, she’d placed two plates of bacon, eggs and beans at the small dining table at the far end of the living room, along with a mug of steaming hot tea for him and a coffee for herself.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, his tone grateful as he sat down. ‘And sorry again.’

  She held up a hand. ‘Stop saying you’re sorry.’

  He opened his mouth, as though he was going to say something, then closed it again fast. They ate in silence for a few moments, then Gina asked curiously, ‘So what exactly is your history with Rose? Carrie said she thought you’d been an item.’

  She stopped, suddenly aware that he might think it was strange for her to be discussing his love-life with Carrie, but Ben merely shrugged. ‘We went on a couple of dates, about a year ago. It didn’t go anywhere – she’s not really my type – and I assumed she thought the same about me.’

  Rose Arundell was young, beautiful and wealthy, Gina thought to herself. What exactly did Ben mean when he said she wasn’t his type?

  ‘But then she started coming on to me whenever I saw her,’ Ben went on, looking more embarrassed than ever. ‘My surfer mates started to take the mick, called me her bit of rough. So I started to avoid going anywhere I thought I might run into her, which is part of the reason I was in Newquay last night. The Brief Encounter screening was the first time I’d seen her in ages.’

  It all made sense, Gina mused, finishing her breakfast and reaching for her coffee. Poor spoiled Rose wasn’t used to rejection and couldn’t believe Ben wasn’t interested. So she’d pursued him and then Gina had materialised, apparently very close to Ben, and Rose had become jealous. She obviously had no idea Gina was with Max. Although, a sly little voice whispered in Gina’s head, the truth was that Rose did have good reason to be jealous. Maybe she saw what Gina was trying so hard to ignore: that there was something there between her and Ben . . .

  She pushed her plate away and the cutlery clattered to the table. ‘Shall we watch the film, then?’

  Ben swallowed his last mouthful and washed it down with a mouthful of tea. ‘Yeah. Sounds like the perfect way to get rid of a hangover.’

  He got up and slotted the disc into the DVD player. Gina carried her coffee towards the seats and paused. Last time she’d been in the living room, there’d been two wing-backed armchairs. There was no sign of them now – they’d been replaced by a small two-seater sofa which faced the television. Ben sat down and propped his feet up on a low wooden coffee table. ‘Come on,’ he said, patting the cushion next to him. ‘And bring that popcorn over too. I’m still hungry.’

  Gina did as he asked, settling on the sofa and trying not to notice the way their bodies leaned into each other. If they’d been a couple, it would have been the most natural thing in the world for Ben to slip his arm around Gina’s shoulders and for her to snuggle into him as they watched the film. But they weren’t a couple – couldn’t be – and it was dangerous for her to even think such things. So Gina sat stiffly for the first fifteen minutes of the film, hardly registering what was happening on screen, acutely aware of Ben’s closeness.

  ‘So, what have you got in mind for the foyer?’ he asked, as a pink-clad Debbie Reynolds leapt out of a cake. ‘Want to turn it into a film set?’

  Gina felt him looking at her and kept her gaze fixed on the television. ‘I was thinking that a red carpet might be simpler – like the one at the start of the film.’

  She felt him nod. ‘Okay. Do you need me to do anything special with the bar? I’m working over Penzance way next week but I’m sure I can fit something in if you need me to.’

  She did look at him then, and wished she hadn’t, because he was closer than he’d been on the train. ‘Thanks, but I think it will be fine.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Shall I get the ice-cream?’

  Ben pushed himself off the sofa. ‘I’m not much of a host, am I? All you’ve done since you got here is run around after me.’

  Gina didn’t mind if she went to the kitchen or he did, as long as she got some space. By the time he returned with two bowls of Ferdie’s new creation, she’d moved onto the floor.

  ‘Bad back,’ she lied when he studied her quizzically. ‘I’m better off down here.’

  The gelato distracted both of them; it summoned up warm summer mornings and every mouthful was bursting with flavour. How had Ferdie done it? Gina wondered, savouring each taste. How had he captured so much exquisite, mouth-watering taste? It was sheer perfection and, unless she was totally mistaken, it was going to bring the house down.

  ‘Your grandfather is a genius,’ Ben said, scraping the last dregs of melted gelato from the bottom of his bowl. ‘That was amazing.’

  Gina smiled, basking in the glow of reflected pride. ‘I think Debbie and Gene are in real danger of being upstaged by an ice-cream.’

  From her much safer vantage point on the floor, Gina could finally relax and enjoy the film. She couldn’t help a tiny snort of amusement when Lina got her comeuppance; was it too much to hope that something similar might happen to Rose?

  As the final credits rolled, Gina turned to Ben. ‘You know, I don’t think you said what you’re wearing to the screening.’

  ‘That’s right, I didn’t,’ Ben said, his tone teasing. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

  He had to be coming as Don Lockwood, Gina decided; maybe he’d gone for the period costume from The Dancing Cavalier. The thought almost made her smile. Almost.

  Checking the time, she got to her feet. ‘I’d better get going. I want to go over the paperwork for the council meeting tomorrow evening, to make sure we haven’t missed anything. Want me to check the station application too?’

  ‘Would you mind?’ Ben asked. ‘Tell me if it’s too much work. Or maybe we could go through it together now?’

  Gina wasn’t sure she could bear another half an hour of sitting on the floor and she definitely wasn’t going to risk joining him on the sofa again. ‘No, don’t worry, I’ll look at it all together later. It’s no trouble.’

  Ben didn’t seem convinced. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Totally,’ Gina assured him, gathering up her bag and coat. ‘I’ll let you know if I spot any problems, but if you don’t hear from me, I’ll meet you and Gorran outside the council offices at six-thirty tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, with a smile that made Gina’s stomach fizz. ‘Thanks for the ice-cream and for breakfast.’

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, heading for the door.

  The town council meetings were held in the grey-bricked town hall, just behind the war memorial in the heart of Polwhipple. Gorran was already waiting, looking ne
rvous, in a suit that was considerably less crumpled than his usual clothes. He’d made an effort to tame his crazy white hair too, not altogether successfully, but Gina decided he’d do. She’d also dressed formally for the occasion, in a cream dress with matching heels that made walking on the cobbled street difficult. Ben arrived a few minutes after her and she was pleased to see he’d aimed to impress; his charcoal suit was well cut and flattering, and Gina thought he wouldn’t have looked out of place in the pages of a men’s magazine. She sat on the thought and managed a brisk, business-like smile. ‘Hello. All set?’

  He nodded in greeting, first at her, then at Gorran. ‘I think so. You?’

  She handed him a plastic wallet that was full of neatly bundled papers. ‘Yes. Shall we go in?’

  Inside the town hall, the floor was tiled in a faded claret and white mosaic. The walls were wood-panelled with dark wood that Gina felt had been in place for a long time. A brass chandelier hung in the centre of the reception area and a wide wooden staircase curved upwards and split into two as it reached the first floor.

  Gina approached the receptionist. ‘Gina Callaway, Gorran Dew and Ben Pascoe, to address the Fiscal Planning committee.’

  The receptionist made them sign in and issued them with visitors’ badges. ‘Up to the first floor and round to the right,’ she said, in a way that made Gina think she said the same words over and over each day. ‘Through the double doors and take a seat until you’re called.’

  ‘It’s like being back at school,’ Ben said, after they’d been waiting for a short while. ‘I feel like I’ve been summoned to the head teacher’s office again.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Gina replied in a low tone, as Gorran nodded his agreement. ‘I never got summoned to the head teacher’s office.’

  Ben raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘Oh really? Whose idea was it to steal cigarettes to smoke on the beach after the sun had gone down?’

  Gina smiled in spite of her nerves. ‘All right, it was mine. But that was down to your bad influence – I was a good girl at school.’