Max sighed. ‘You know I’ve had issues with Ben before. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Gina. Maybe this was all innocent on your part but I don’t believe the same can be said of Ben. And I think—’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘I think that for me to be able to trust you when you’re so far away – I think you’re going to have to break off your friendship with him.’
‘What?’ Gina stared at her phone, aghast. ‘You can’t mean that.’
‘But I do,’ Max said grimly. ‘Think about it – we’re hundreds of miles apart and we only see each other once every other month. I don’t want to be sitting here tormenting myself, thinking about what you’re getting up to with Ben.’
‘But – but we have work to do,’ Gina argued. ‘Joint projects to oversee. I can’t just cut him dead.’
‘You have to,’ Max insisted, his voice tight. ‘Look at it this way, how would you feel if the situation was reversed? Would you be happy for me to continue seeing someone you suspected had feelings for me?’
Gina closed her eyes, feeling sick. ‘Probably not.’
‘Then you know what you have to do.’
‘And –’ She hesitated, then blundered on. ‘And if I refuse?’
The last vestiges of warmth dropped from Max’s voice. ‘Then you can consider our engagement off.’
He hung up, leaving Gina staring at her feet in shock. Slowly, she lowered the phone to her lap. And then she burst into tears.
Chapter Ten
It seemed to Gina as though the next few days passed in a grey fog, even though the Atlantic sparkled in the June sunshine and the temperature soared. She spent most of Sunday moping around her flat, trying to resist the temptation to get on the next train to London. Right now, Max was angry and hurt, and Gina supposed she understood why; as he’d pointed out, if the situation had been reversed, she’d have been unhappy with him. But it felt very unfair all the same; she hadn’t done anything wrong.
She arrived at the dairy on Monday morning with her smile fixed firmly in place. She didn’t intend to tell Nonna and Nonno what had happened; with luck, she and Max would be able to repair the damage to their relationship before anyone had to know there was a problem. But she’d underestimated Elena’s emotional superpowers; it took less than ten minutes for her to sniff out that something was wrong and only a few minutes more to winkle the whole story out of Gina. And then the tears had come; Ferdie had threatened to go to London himself to talk some sense into Max.
‘Please don’t, Nonno,’ Gina had said, once she’d dried her face. ‘He’ll calm down on his own, and when he does, then maybe we’ll be able to talk and sort everything out.’
Ferdie had looked even more furious then. ‘Never mind talking some sense into him, maybe I should knock some sense into his blockheaded brain. Idiota!’
‘Sssshhh!’ Elena glared at him, waving at him to sit down. ‘The last thing she needs is you breaking another limb by hitting her boyfriend.’
Gina sighed and straightened up with determination. ‘At least I have the Palace re-opening to keep me busy. But as soon as it’s over, I’m catching a train to London. Max can’t ignore me if I’m standing in front of him.’
By Thursday, Gina was beginning to wonder if the Palace would ever re-open its doors. Whatever could go wrong did go wrong; they seemed to be cursed.
‘It’s that Rose Arundell,’ Manda said darkly, when the lights blew for the third time that morning. ‘She’s sticking pins into a great big doll of the Palace and twisting ’em.’
Even the seat fittings hadn’t been straightforward. The tiered rows had been fine; both Gina and Ben declared they were a huge improvement in comfort. And the round tables looked good too, but there was a problem with the seats that went with them. They didn’t swivel.
‘I don’t believe this,’ Ben said, staring at the static seat with an incredulous expression. ‘What use is a swivel seat that doesn’t swivel?’
The delivery man shrugged. ‘Must be a faulty batch. You can order some more online.’
Ben stared at him. ‘And risk the same thing happening again? No, thanks. Besides, these need to be in place for Saturday – we haven’t got time to re-order.’
Gina gave the seat an experimental prod. It didn’t move. ‘What we need is an expert in mechanical engineering,’ she said with a sigh. ‘How about your mates at the Bodmin Railway Preservation trust? They seem to know a lot about this kind of thing.’
‘Steam mechanics, yes,’ Ben replied, doubtfully. ‘But swivel seats might be a different kettle of fish entirely.’
‘Ask, please,’ Gina suggested and passed a weary hand over her eyes. ‘They might be our only hope before Saturday.’
She left him working his way through his contacts and went to find Gorran. He was in his newly redecorated office, gazing at the plain white walls and bank of filing cabinets with a bemused expression. ‘You look like a character from one of your arthouse flicks, Gorran,’ Gina said, when he failed to turn around as she opened the door. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Hmmm?’ he said, twitching at the sound of her voice. ‘Sorry, Gina, what can I do for you?’
‘Stop staring at the wall and start sorting out all these papers,’ Gina said, waving a hand at the boxes of papers that Gorran needed to put away. ‘If this place catches fire after all this hard work, I will not be happy.’
After lunch, she and Gorran and Ben went on a tour of the building, looking for issues. And they found plenty, from faulty toilet door locks to a sticky curtain mechanism that meant only half the screen could be seen. There were still a few finishing touches to be made to the gilt-work, although Ben and Davey both assured Gina it would be finished by the end of the day, to allow time for it to dry and the paint fumes to dissipate.
‘This is the list of things that need attention,’ Gina said, holding up a page of an A4 notepad that was almost filled with items to be fixed. ‘We’ve got a lot to do.’
‘Top of the list are the seats,’ Ben said, glancing towards the screening room. ‘I’ve got some friends on their way who might be able to help.’
‘And if they can’t?’ Gorran looked alarmed.
‘Then we can’t re-open this Saturday,’ Ben said, with a sigh. ‘We’ll have to postpone.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ Gina said. ‘I’m not sure I can cope with another week of this.’
Ben caught her arm as she was about to go back into the screening room. ‘Hey, is everything okay? You’ve been very quiet.’
Gina tried her hardest to smile. ‘It’s nothing. Stress, mostly. You know it’s bad when you dream about snagging.’
‘Welcome to my world,’ Ben said, pulling a face. ‘I have those dreams all the time, although I’m usually naked too. But I’m sorry you’re stressed – is there anything I can do to help?’
For a heartbeat or two, Gina wondered about asking Ben to talk to Max, to make him understand that he had no reason to be intimidated or threatened, and to explain that Gina’s version of events was the right one. But she knew it wouldn’t help; her problems with Max were for the two of them to work through. And Ben had enough on his plate here at the Palace. ‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ she told him, doing her best to smile. ‘Just get the seats sorted by Saturday and I’ll be even better.’
He touched her arm and lowered his voice so that Gorran wouldn’t hear. ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong right now. But I will always be there if you want to talk.’ He paused and sighed with what sounded like extreme embarrassment. ‘Except for when I fall asleep on your sofa.’
‘Gina, mia bella, how are you?’
Elena slipped a sympathetic arm around Gina’s shoulders and squeezed as they stood outside the Palace.
Gina did her best to smile. ‘I’m fine, Nonna. Don’t worry.’
‘You are not fine,’ Elena clucked. ‘You are brave but you are not fine.’
It was Saturday afternoon and the stage was finally set for th
e Palace grand re-opening in just over an hour’s time. The paint was dry, the seats finally swivelled where they were meant to, thanks to Ben’s colleagues at the Bodmin Railway Preservation Society who’d identified and fixed the problem on thirty chairs, and the gremlins in the electrical system seemed to have finally been evicted. The building wasn’t quite snag-free but Gina knew when to quit; it was as close to perfect as it was going to get.
The mayor of Polwhipple was due to attend the reopening ceremony, along with half the town, and Nick Borrowdale had agreed to cut the ribbon. It was the moment Gina had been working towards for the best part of two months and she wished she could enjoy it. But she still hadn’t heard from Max and was now see-sawing between inconsolable misery and rage that Max could put her in such an impossible position. There wasn’t even any way she could talk it through with him; he was still ignoring her messages and refusing to take her calls. Nonna was right – she wasn’t fine. But at the same time, she didn’t have the luxury of being able to wallow in misery. She had too much to do for that.
‘Is everything ready over at Ferrelli’s?’ she asked.
Elena nodded and for the first time in Gina’s life, she thought her grandmother looked nervous. ‘I think so. Today is a big day for me too.’
Gina nodded. After decades of refusing to allow his wife to have any input into the gelato recipes he served at Ferrelli’s, Ferdie had finally relented and allowed her to make a Tiramisu flavour. Today was its debut and both Gina and Elena hoped it would prove popular with Polwhipple’s residents. ‘It’s going to be fine,’ she assured Elena. ‘Just wait and see.’
Ben appeared around the corner, smartly dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. ‘Everything is set,’ he said, once he was close enough to Gina. ‘Tash has the film all ready to run, just as soon as everyone is settled into their seats.’
‘And Nick?’ Gina asked, certain that they were going to lose their guest of honour before he could cut the ribbon and open the cinema.
‘In the Mermaid’s Tail, discussing cider with Jory and most of the women in the county, I think,’ Ben said, grinning.
Gina wanted to smile too but her face felt permanently frozen into a frown these days. ‘What about Gorran? Where’s he?’
‘Last time I saw him, he was inside with Tash.’ Ben aimed a concerned look her way. ‘Relax, Gina, it’s all going to be fine. Look, here comes Nick and his fan club now.’
Sure enough, there was the star of Smugglers’ Inn, surrounded by a large crowd of adoring fans. ‘I’d better go and rescue him,’ Ben said, hurrying towards the actor.
Elena leaned closer to Gina. ‘Ben doesn’t know about you and Max?’
Gina shook her head. ‘No. It seems simpler this way. Besides, what can he do? Max and I need to work through this on our own.’
Her grandmother pursed her lips, as though there was something she wanted to say, but Ben was on his way back, with Nick in tow, and there was no time.
Gina dredged up a friendly smile. ‘This shouldn’t take too long, Nick. All you need to do is cut the ribbon, using the scissors Gorran passes you, and say something along the lines of “I now declare this cinema open” and then there’ll be a few pictures for the local paper.’
Nick smiled. ‘Got it.’
‘After that, you’re free to hang about for the screening we’ve got planned, or you can head off, if you’d rather,’ Gina said.
‘What film are you showing?’ Nick asked, looking interested.
‘We’ve gone totally old school,’ Gina replied. ‘It’s Casablanca, which was actually the first film the Palace ever showed, back when it first opened.’
‘Perfect,’ Nick said, and he raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘Play it again, Sam.’
Gina was sure she heard Elena let out a tiny sigh beside her. ‘The crowds are starting to build up,’ she said, nodding at the tape they’d strung between poles to create a perimeter. She checked the time – less than half an hour to go. ‘Okay, let’s get everyone into place.’
‘Good luck,’ Elena whispered.
‘Thanks,’ Gina muttered in reply. She’d planned almost every detail of the re-opening and gone over it in her mind a hundred times; she might not be able to control her personal life but she was determined to keep her work running smoothly. Nothing could go wrong today – she wouldn’t allow it . . .
‘Anyone who knew me growing up knows that I spent every spare moment in a cinema like this one,’ Nick said to the enormous crowd gathered outside the Palace. There were so many people there that they spilled along the promenade and the car park, and even down onto the beach. ‘I can honestly say that without that cinema, I wouldn’t be the actor I am now. So I’m especially delighted to be helping this building to re-open and inspire even more cinema-goers.’
Gorran passed the actor a large pair of silver scissors and he cut the ribbon that was placed between the Art Deco panels of the cinema’s silver and glass double doors. ‘I now declare the Palace open all over again!’
The crowd burst into applause as Gorran heaved the doors back and began to usher people inside. ‘Those of you lucky enough to have tickets, please don’t forget to visit our world-famous ice-cream concession, Ferrelli’s, to try their delicious new flavour,’ he said jovially. ‘Do help yourselves to complimentary cocktails from the bar. And finally, when you’re ready, please take your seats for Casablanca at the picture house by the sea.’
Gina hung back, watching the ticket-holders file into the refurbished cinema, while Nick chatted to those who didn’t have tickets. Ben watched her watching him. ‘Can you believe it? We did it – we actually pulled this crazy job off.’
Gina laughed. ‘I must admit, there were times when I really thought we’d bitten off more than we could chew.’
‘Honestly?’ he asked. ‘I had plenty of moments when I thought we were doomed. But we got through them.’
‘We did. I’ve told you before, we make a good team. I knew we’d get there in the end.’
Ben smiled. ‘But it was mostly down to your skill and determination. Has anyone ever told you you’re a remarkable person, Gina Callaway?’
To Gina’s horror, her eyes started to fill with tears. ‘Not recently.’
‘Well, you are. And I’m not quite as suave as Nick but –’ He reached down and took her hand. ‘Here’s to a wonderful friendship.’
Gina blinked as hard as she dared and did her best to smile. ‘Thanks, Ben. You have no idea how much that means right now.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said. And, hand in hand, they walked in through the double doors to watch Casablanca.
Chapter One
‘How do you feel about murder?’
Gina Callaway lowered her crab-laden fork and stared at Ben Pascoe across the table, unsure whether she’d misheard. It wasn’t a question she’d been asked in a packed seafood restaurant. In fact, it wasn’t a question she’d ever been asked. ‘Sorry?’
Ben grinned, his blue eyes twinkling beneath his thatch of golden-blond hair. ‘I said, how do you feel about murder?’
Was it Gina’s imagination or did the passing waiter give the two of them a slightly suspicious look? ‘That’s what I thought you said,’ she said, raising both eyebrows. ‘I’ve been tempted once or twice but so far I’ve resisted. Why?’
He slid a flyer across the gingham tablecloth.
‘The Bodmin and Wenford Railway Preservation Society presents Murder on the Cornish Express,’ Gina read, then looked up. ‘Oh, it’s a murder mystery evening?’
Ben nodded. ‘On board the train. In between the welcome cocktails and a five-course dinner, news will spread of a terrible murder and it’ll be up to the passengers to work out whodunnit. Up for it?’
‘Dress code: Gatsby Chic,’ Gina said, with a little surge of anticipation at the thought of the costume possibilities. ‘Are you kidding – of course I’m up for it. It sounds amazing.’
‘Great,’ he said, then paused. ‘It’s a Friday
evening – do you think Max might want to come?’
Gina chewed a mouthful of crab as she gazed out at the sparkling seas of Padstow harbour and considered the question. If Ben had asked a few weeks earlier then she might not have hesitated; after Max’s proposal, she’d spent a few days walking on air. But then everything had gone wrong and the diamond ring Max had given her was now in the bottom of her jewellery box. Ben had no idea of the damage his night on the sofa had caused.
She took a sip of perfectly chilled Pouilly-Fumé, savouring its dryness after the sweetness of the crab. ‘I’ll ask him,’ she said, finally. ‘It’s not really his kind of thing.’
‘Okay,’ he said, picking up the leaflet. ‘Let me know as soon as you can. It’s not until the end of July, so we’ve got a few weeks but tickets are selling fast.’
Where had the time gone, Gina wondered in mild bewilderment. She’d originally planned to return to London after three months in Cornwall and yet she was still there, more than four months later. It was something else Max was unhappy about . . .
‘Carrie and Davey might be interested,’ Gina said, forcing Max out of her mind. She pictured her friend’s excitement when she heard about the Roaring Twenties theme. ‘Well, Carrie will be. I’m not so sure about Davey.’
Ben grinned. Davey was one of his workmates, a fellow builder who’d recently helped to him to pull off a triumphant renovation of the Palace, Polwhipple’s Art Deco picture house. ‘I can just imagine him in a flapper dress and pearls, can’t you?’
She laughed. ‘He’d make a perfect gangster. Except that I don’t imagine they had many of those in 1920s Cornwall.’
‘Who cares?’ Ben replied. ‘The dress code is just for guidance – there won’t be any costume police checking for authenticity.’
‘Fair point,’ Gina conceded. ‘I wonder if Nonna and Nonno will want to come.’
Her grandparents had surprised everyone by raising their cosplay game for every event that she organised at the Palace; she couldn’t wait to see what they might put together for a murder mystery evening aboard a steam train.
The Picture House by the Sea Page 25