The Picture House by the Sea

by Holly Hepburn

  ‘So anyway,’ he went on. ‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry.’

  She smiled. ‘Okay. And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have flown off the handle at you.’

  The coffee cup in his hand lurched a bit and Gina reached out to steady it. The movement caused Ben to look down. ‘What’s that?’ he said, pointing to the ring on her finger.

  ‘Oh,’ Gina said, cursing herself for not taking it off the moment Ben arrived. ‘It’s just a ring.’

  His head bobbled as he peered at her hand more closely. ‘S’an engagement ring. Did you get engaged?’

  Gina hesitated. His voice had become noticeably quieter. ‘Why don’t we talk about that another time?’

  Ben studied her for a few seconds, then slumped back against the sofa with his eyes closed. ‘You did. You got engaged to Max.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gina admitted. ‘I did.’

  ‘Shouldn’t have done that,’ Ben mumbled, his eyes still shut. ‘Max can’t be trusted.’

  Gina held her breath. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have right now, although she knew she couldn’t put it off forever.

  Opening his eyes, Ben fixed her with a beady look. ‘I know things about Max. Bad things. You shouldn’t be ’gaged to him, Gina. He’s a wrong ’un.’

  ‘Let’s talk about this tomorrow,’ Gina said, not unkindly. ‘You seem a bit . . . tired right now.’

  ‘I am tired,’ Ben said, closing his eyes once more. ‘I’m very tired. It’s not right.’

  ‘Maybe it’s time to go home,’ she went on. ‘And tomorrow, when you’re not tired any more, we can talk.’

  Ben said nothing. Gina waited. ‘Ben?’

  He let out a long riffling sigh.

  ‘Ben!’ Gina said more sharply, poking him in the ribs. ‘Wake up. You need to go home.’

  Breathing deeply, Ben angled his body away and nestled into the sofa. Gina shook his shoulder. ‘Ben – wake up!’

  Nothing she did made a difference. Exasperated, she considered getting a saucepan of water from the kitchen but she’d get more on the sofa than she would on Ben. Muttering under her breath, she settled down on the sofa next to him to watch what was left of the movie. Maybe he’d wake up when the credits rolled.

  By ten-thirty, Ben was snoring and Gina had given up hope that he’d wake up in time to take himself home. Wishing she’d left him on the doorstep, she removed his shoes and grabbed a spare blanket from the cupboard. Satisfied that he was as comfortable as she could make him, Gina went to bed. She’d deal with her unexpected houseguest and his hangover in the morning.

  Chapter Nine

  Gina didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look as embarrassed as Ben did on Monday morning. His face was crimson as she walked into the living room and his eyes were mortified. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ben held up a hand.

  ‘Whatever I said or did last night, I apologise.’

  If she’d been the sadistic type, she might have strung him along. But judging from his pained expression, he was suffering enough. ‘That’s pretty much what you said last night,’ she told him, smiling. ‘You were extremely apologetic, about everything.’

  Ben threw her a cautious look. ‘I was?’

  ‘Yep. And you also said you’d finished with Rose.’

  He nodded gingerly. ‘I remember that – I did it last night. She didn’t take the news well.’

  ‘What else do you remember?’ Gina asked. She’d taken her ring off and hidden it at the bottom of her jewellery box. ‘Do you remember telling me that Max can’t be trusted?’

  Ben let out a heartfelt groan and passed a hand across his eyes. ‘I didn’t, did I?’

  ‘You did, although you fell asleep before you could explain why.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, and Gina knew he meant it. ‘I must have been pretty wasted.’

  She nodded. ‘How did it happen?’

  Ben explained that he’d met Rose to let her down as gently as he could. After things had taken a turn for the worse, he’d called Davey to commiserate with him. Davey had brought his two brothers, both rugby players, and everything had started to get hazy after the fifth pint. The next thing Ben remembered was waking up on Gina’s sofa, with a mouth that tasted as though something had died in it.

  ‘Is it safe to assume Rose won’t be interfering with the Dirty Dancing screening any more?’ Gina asked hopefully.

  Ben sighed. ‘I don’t think it’s safe to assume anything where Rose is concerned. But I’d be surprised if she shows her face, unless it’s to cause trouble.’

  ‘She can try,’ Gina said, her expression grim. ‘But the gloves are coming off. From now on, no more Miss Nice Girl!’

  The next few days rolled by in a whirlwind. Gina’s grandparents were cautiously happy to hear the news of her engagement to Max, although Ferdie felt he should have come to talk to him first.

  ‘Ignore him,’ Elena said, with a dismissive glare at her husband. ‘He thinks it is the Dark Ages still.’

  Ferdie and Gina devoted some of their time to perfecting the Cha-Cha Cherry recipe and making sure they had plenty of stock for Saturday’s screening; Gina didn’t want a repeat of last time, when Ferrelli’s had sold out of the Good Morning gelato they’d invented to go with Singin’ in the Rain. And Gina called into the Scarlet hotel to see Miquel, the head bartender, and taste the Watermelon Daiquiri he’d created.

  ‘Perfect!’ she declared, taking another long sip through her straw. ‘I hope you’ve cornered the watermelon market because these are going to fly.’

  Rose was very conspicuous by her absence. Gina tried not to get her hopes up as the days went by; she wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d seen the last of the Arundells. But with a bit of luck, they might leave her alone long enough to get the screening done and dusted. After that – who knew?

  Work at the Palace was coming along too; the carpets had been laid and Ben was satisfied that everything would be in place for the grand re-opening a week after Dirty Dancing on the beach. And Max had come up trumps with the name of the PR who handled the star of Smugglers’ Inn – she was called Sam Chapman. Apparently, she’d moved out of public relations and was now running a pub in Shropshire but she remembered meeting Gina and was happy to contact Nick Borrowdale on her behalf.

  ‘Be warned, he’s mega busy,’ Sam told Gina over the phone. ‘But this sounds like exactly the kind of thing he likes to get involved with, so fingers crossed.’

  Carrie delivered Gina’s outfit on Friday morning. ‘The weather forecast says June looks hot so you should be good to wear these,’ she said, holding up a pair of cut-off denim shorts. ‘And I brought you a peachy-pink top like the one Baby wears when she’s dancing on the steps outside Johnny’s room.’

  ‘Amazing,’ Gina said, grinning at her friend. ‘But who are you coming as?’

  Carrie smiled. ‘I’m going to be Lisa, Baby’s sister, and Davey is going to be Robbie the waiter.’

  Gina’s eyes widened. ‘That sounds promising. Are you official yet?’

  Her friend batted her arm with the shorts. ‘Stop it. We’re just having fun and enjoying each other’s company at the moment.’ She smiled. ‘Speaking of fun, I’ve really enjoyed sourcing everyone’s Dirty Dancing costumes – so many people are going to be there. How are the ticket sales coming along?’

  ‘Pretty well,’ Gina said. ‘Last time I checked, we only had twenty more to go before we’ve sold out.’

  ‘Ooh, a sold-out event – that would be awesome. Maybe we should do more screenings on the beach.’

  It was a nice idea, but Gina doubted very much whether Gorran would get the go-ahead from the town council again, not when Rose was so clearly nursing hurt feelings. Gina had tried to contact her several times to ask about the sponsorship arrangements but each time the call had gone to voicemail and Rose had ignored all Gina’s messages. She wasn’t even sure whether Rose would come to the screening, although Carrie confirmed she had collected her costume. ‘Maybe,’ she said, in
a non-committal tone. ‘We’ll have to see what happens.’

  She suspected Hell might freeze over first.

  Saturday dawned bright and sunny. Gina spent the morning with Tash, the Palace’s projectionist, making sure the projection and sound equipment was all working as it should.

  ‘Relax, Gina, it’s going to be fine,’ Tash said, after they’d tested everything for the third time. ‘Trust me, I’ve got this.’

  Gina had left Ben in charge of laying out the green and white striped deckchairs inside the makeshift perimeter, according to the seating plan she’d drawn up, and Davey had constructed a platform for Mimi the dance instructor to stand on so that she could demonstrate the moves for the audience. By mid-afternoon, Gina was starting to believe they were as ready as they could be. All they needed now was an audience.

  The crowds started to arrive dead on time. As always, Gina was blown away by the effort everyone had put in; the outfits were amazing – due in no small part to Carrie’s Attic. She couldn’t help laughing when she saw Nonna and Nonno; they’d come as the Schumachers – the wily pair of elderly thieves – complete with a handbag full of stolen wallets and purses. She led them over to the pop-up bar and grabbed a couple of Watermelon Daiquiris for them, promising to bring them cones of Cha-Cha Cherry from Ferrelli’s as soon as she got the chance.

  She couldn’t find Ben anywhere. And then, just as Mimi took to her platform to lead the dance lesson, Gina saw him, strutting his way along the promenade with his hair slicked back into a quiff and a battered leather jacket slung over one shoulder. Several heads turned to watch him pass and Gina could understand why; he looked incredible.

  As he came nearer, he lowered his sunglasses to look at her. ‘Ready to salsa?’

  She nodded, trying to ignore the fizzing feeling in her stomach that was either pre-event nerves or Ben’s appearance. ‘If I can remember the steps.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.’ He smiled. ‘You look great, by the way.’

  Gina touched her hair. ‘Thanks – you look good too. Scarily like Johnny Castle, actually.’

  ‘Shame I can’t dance like him,’ Ben said. He draped his jacket over a nearby chair and held out a hand to her. ‘Ready?’

  Gina straightened her shoulders. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  The dance lesson was a roaring success, helped along by Miquel’s generous measures of rum in the Watermelon Daiquiris. Everywhere Gina looked, she saw people laughing and having fun. It was all going better than she could have hoped. And then she saw Rose.

  The other woman was in costume, wearing a pink dress that Gina remembered the Rockette, Penny Johnson, wearing in the film. She was dancing with a man Gina didn’t recognise and every now and then, she fired venomous looks at Ben and Gina.

  ‘I don’t know why she bothered to come,’ Gina said to Ben as they danced. ‘She’s clearly not enjoying herself.’

  ‘Ignore her,’ Ben said firmly. ‘She’ll hate that most of all.’

  And then it was time for the film to begin and Gina forgot all about Rose in the scramble to make sure all the guests found the seats they’d paid for. There was space at the front for picnic blankets and cushions, and row after row of deckchairs behind for those who preferred a little more comfort. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the opening bars of the film started to roll across the beach.

  ‘Happy?’ Gina whispered to Gorran, who’d come as resort owner Max Kellerman.

  He nodded. ‘Very. Thanks, Gina. I owe you. Again.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m just glad I could help.’

  Settling into her seat beside Ben, Gina allowed herself to spend the next two hours getting lost in the romance. It wasn’t until the end, when the audience broke into whoops and cheers, that she remembered where she was and realised she and Ben were holding hands.

  ‘I’d better get moving,’ she said, shaking her fingers free and climbing to her feet without looking him in the eye. ‘I’m part of the exit team, making sure everyone leaves when they’re meant to.’

  Getting everyone out was a slow process. Some were keen to stick around to dance and Gina had to politely move them on. She’d just started to make progress when she heard a raised voice. Her heart sank – the last thing they needed was a scene. It was sure to be all anyone remembered the next day. But she soon realised this was no ordinary disgruntled customer: the person doing the shouting was Rose. She was standing on the sand, in the middle of a small crowd, and the person on the receiving end of her fury was Ben.

  ‘You might as well own up,’ Rose was shouting, her pale complexion suffused with furious red blotches. ‘I know it was you – you were caught on camera!’

  Ben shook his head. ‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘My car!’ Rose bellowed. ‘You scratched my car.’

  Ben’s mouth fell open as the crowd around them began to whisper and mutter. ‘I promise you I didn’t.’

  ‘You did. Last Sunday evening, in the car park here. It’s taken me this long to get the footage from the management company.’

  ‘Look, Rose,’ Ben replied in a measured tone, ‘I’m sorry to hear that your car has been damaged but whatever you think you saw, I can categorically tell you it was not me.’

  ‘Prove it!’ Rose snapped, brandishing blown-up copies of CCTV images. ‘Tell me where you were at 11 p.m. last Sunday.’

  Gina felt the beginnings of a blush start to creep up her cheeks, because she knew just where Ben had been – fast asleep and snoring on her sofa. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to say so – there were bound to be some people who didn’t see how innocent it had been . . .

  Ben didn’t look at Gina. ‘All I can tell you is that I was fast asleep then. Sorry, Rose, you’ve got the wrong man.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Gina said, as Rose launched into yet another accusation and the muttering of the crowd grew louder. ‘Just supposing it was Ben. What possible motivation could he have for doing something like this?’

  Rose fired a withering look her way. ‘Obviously, it was revenge for me dumping him.’

  ‘Revenge?’ Gina repeated.

  ‘Revenge?’ Ben said. ‘For you dumping me? Are you being serious?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ Rose snapped. ‘I told you last Sunday that our relationship was over and the first opportunity you got, you scratched my car to teach me a lesson.’

  Now some members of the crowd were firing suspicious looks Ben’s way. Others were muttering behind their hands as they watched the argument develop. But Gina had heard enough; she wouldn’t let Rose drag Ben’s good name through the mud like this. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Rose, but Ben couldn’t have scratched your car.’

  ‘Oh, how predictable,’ Rose sneered, looking down her nose at Gina. ‘It’s Little Miss Ice-Cream, riding to the rescue. And how could you possibly know it wasn’t him?’

  Gina squared her shoulders and met Rose’s derisive gaze head on. ‘He couldn’t have been in the car park at 11 p.m. last Sunday, because he was with me.’ She glanced over at Ben. ‘And he stayed with me all night.’

  Immediately, the crowd broke into gasps and mutters. Gina stood firm, trying not to blush too much. None of what she had said was untrue but she could hear the sound of two and two being put together all across the beach. There was no going back from this; from now on, she’d be inextricably linked to Ben.

  ‘Prove it!’ Rose demanded again.

  ‘There’s CCTV in my building,’ Gina said, fighting to keep her voice calm and level. ‘It will show Ben arriving around nine o’clock that night. He didn’t leave again until the following morning.’

  It looked as though Rose would try to argue but at the very last second, she gave Gina one last derisive, almost triumphant look and stormed off.

  Ben walked over to Gina. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Gina said, shrugging. ‘She was trying to set you up for something you d
idn’t do.’

  He gazed after Rose. ‘You know she’ll make sure Max hears about this, don’t you?’

  Nodding, Gina swallowed hard. ‘Not if I tell him first. Don’t worry, he trusts me.’

  Ben smiled. ‘As he should. I hope he knows how lucky he is.’

  Gina touched the empty space on her ring finger. ‘Me too,’ she said.

  Max was silent for a long time after Gina stopped talking into the phone on Sunday morning. In fact, he was so quiet that she half-suspected they’d been cut off.

  ‘Max? Are you still there?’

  He sighed. ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘So I just wanted you to hear it from me, rather than second-hand gossip,’ Gina said, hoping her voice was steadier than she felt. ‘Absolutely nothing happened – he snored on the sofa all night – but I suppose it’s easy to read something into it, if you don’t know better.’

  Again, Max was silent.

  ‘Come on, Max, surely you can see it’s all perfectly innocent?’

  ‘Here’s my problem,’ he said slowly. ‘If this is all so innocent, why didn’t you tell me straight away? We talked on the phone on Monday evening – you told me what your grandparents had said about our engagement. Why not tell me that Ben slept on the sofa then?’

  Gina stared at the carpet of her apartment. It was a fair question: why hadn’t she told him? ‘Because I suppose I knew it didn’t look good,’ she said, after a while. ‘Because it was Ben.’

  ‘I see,’ Max said, his voice cold. ‘And that leads to my next question, which is, if Rose hadn’t accused Ben of damaging her car, would you have told me about this at all?’

  ‘Of course I would,’ Gina said, stung by the accusation she heard behind the words. ‘I might have picked my moment and told you the next time I saw you but I definitely would’ve told you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  The words felt like a slap. ‘You don’t believe I would have told you?’ she asked. ‘Or you don’t believe that nothing happened?’