‘And right on the beach, too,’ Toby added. ‘Near enough, anyway. Concrete’s safer than sand, I expect.’
‘But Gertie has a winch,’ Lila said, ‘so if we did get stuck, we’d be fine. It’s already had one rather impressive use in its relatively short lifetime.’ She slid into the seat next to Keeley, Toby and Sam opposite them. Lila felt a flutter in her abdomen as her knees brushed Sam’s, and he caught her gaze. She’d put the fairy lights onto twinkle mode, and the light played across his features. He looked tired and energized all at once, and she wondered if any actor really needed caffeine, when the adrenaline of performing must run constantly through their veins.
‘Hey,’ he said.
‘Hi,’ she replied. ‘I heard you had a big scene earlier?’
He gave her a lopsided smile, one eyebrow rising slightly. ‘It was pretty big,’ he admitted, shooting a quick glance at Aria.
‘But it went well?’ Lila didn’t really want to know the details, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
‘I think so. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. We had to do a lot of takes, but that was because Gregor was in hyper-perfectionist mode.’
‘Due to getting there late?’
Sam nodded, sipping his drink. It looked like vodka and tonic, something clear and fizzing. ‘It hasn’t been the easiest day, let’s put it like that. So this,’ he gestured around him, ‘is good timing. Great idea of Toby’s to come on the bus, as long as you don’t feel as if you’re still working, playing host to a gaggle of arrogant actors? I see you’re not drinking.’
‘I need to get back to Porthgolow after this,’ she said. ‘And I’m happy to oblige, considering you’ve all had such a long day.’
Sam laughed. ‘And you managed to fit in a nap this afternoon, did you?’
‘Well no, but it’s not the same, is it?’
He shook his head, lips parted as if he was about to reply, when Toby stood up and cleared his throat dramatically. The bus fell silent.
‘Ladies, gentlemen, King Claude and Lord Bert,’ he said, his deep voice rumbling, ‘we have come together on this fine evening, on board this glorious bus, for a few drinks, and to welcome Sam and Keeley into the world of serious acting.’
‘Good-oh,’ Bert said. ‘What’s the plan, then?’
‘Plan?’ Keeley asked. ‘Why do we need a plan?’
‘This is the plan,’ Toby said, bringing a bottle of tequila out from under the table.
‘Oh, bloody hell,’ Sarah murmured, but she was smiling. Darius whooped and clapped his hands.
Opposite Lila, Sam rolled his eyes. ‘Come on then,’ he said, ‘do your worst.’
‘Ah.’ Toby held up a finger. ‘Our hostess gets to control the size of the measures.’
‘I do?’ Lila glanced at Keeley, whose lips were pressed into a tight line. ‘But I don’t have any shot glasses or a jigger, so I’m going to have to guess. And I have salt, but no lime.’
‘I am nothing if not prepared.’ Toby reached beneath the table again and took four limes and a salt cellar out of a plastic bag. ‘For you, Delilah.’
Lila hurried down the stairs and retrieved a chopping board, a sharp knife and more glasses. She resumed her place on the top deck and started chopping the limes into wedges.
‘I assume we’re not going to be left out of this tequila business because of our more mature years and wealth of experience?’ Bert asked. ‘That, young man, would be discrimination.’
‘Not at all,’ Toby said. ‘But Keeley and Sam go first. One shot each, and make it generous, won’t you, Lila?’
She finished cutting the lime, and handed wedges to Keeley and Sam. Then she turned her attention to the tequila. The glasses were tall and straight-sided. She had no idea what would constitute a shot, so she estimated. As she finished pouring, Darius whistled through his teeth.
‘Oh God, Lila,’ Keeley said. ‘Seriously? That’s about a quadruple.’
Toby grinned at her.
‘It’s not, is it?’ she asked innocently, passing the drinks to the two victims, then putting the same amount in the other glasses and handing them out.
Sam rubbed his forehead and gave her a pained expression.
‘It’s perfect,’ Toby said. ‘Perfect. You ready, chaps?’
To Lila’s surprise, Keeley didn’t hesitate. She knocked back her glass and winced, poured salt on her hand, licked it and then bit straight into the lime. Everyone applauded, and Sarah cheered enthusiastically.
‘Good woman,’ Toby said, clearly impressed. ‘Sam?’
Sam was much more methodical. He poured the salt onto his hand, arranged the glass and lime in front of him, then took a deep breath and downed the tequila. He grimaced, waited a second and then licked the salt, finishing with the lime. As he sucked it, his eyes found Lila’s. She felt hot all of a sudden.
‘Excellent,’ Toby said, slapping Sam on the back so that he almost choked. He poured salt on his hand and then waited while everyone else did the same, then raised his glass. ‘A toast, to Keeley and Sam! Wet behind the ears, and quite possibly more talented than the rest of us put together. Welcome to the world of serious drama – let us always strive to make it as light-hearted as possible. And to Claude, stepping in at the last moment as chauffeur extraordinaire, and finally to Delilah, our generous and beautiful host for the evening!’ He downed his drink, the rest of the group following suit.
Lila reached over and clinked her mug of tea against Claude’s.
‘Wonderful stuff,’ Bert declared, after he’d discarded his piece of lime and held his hand out for the half-empty bottle. ‘You don’t need any of this guff, either.’ He waved the salt cellar. ‘Stands up entirely well on its own.’
‘Seriously?’ Keeley grimaced. ‘I hate tequila.’
‘Could have fooled me,’ Sam said, through a mouthful of lime.
Lila laughed. ‘You don’t have to eat the whole thing.’
‘I do,’ he replied solemnly. ‘I hate tequila too. And I am never trusting you to pour me a measure of anything, ever again, by the way.’ He finally relinquished the forlorn piece of fruit and sipped his original drink.
‘She did it on purpose, obviously,’ Keeley said.
‘We’ll have to pay her back next time.’ Sam shrugged.
‘Definitely,’ Keeley said, throwing an arm around Lila’s shoulder and pulling her close. Lila laughed and hugged her back, trying to hide her delight that they both thought she was worthy of a ‘next time’.
After Toby’s tequila toast, the atmosphere mellowed. She was surrounded by funny, imaginative people, who all had stories she wanted to listen to, and with Marmite on her lap, Keeley at her side and Sam opposite her, she felt wholly contented. She was part of something here; she was valued. She hadn’t been invited solely because Gertie was her responsibility, but because they liked her. The moon dusted the water outside, the fairy lights glimmered within and, as the drink and conversation flowed, Sam’s gaze kept returning, again and again, to her.
Sometime around midnight, once the tequila bottle was empty and Lila was thinking of offering up a round of hot chocolates, and Keeley and Toby were deep in an animated discussion about his last television role, Sam’s warm fingers touched her arm. When she looked at him he stood and held out his hand.
‘Follow me,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
It didn’t occur to Lila, for a single second, not to take his hand and do as he asked.
Chapter Three
The air was colder than she had expected, but the feel of it against her face made her alive to their surroundings, the gentle lapping of the water against sand. The tide was going out, the sea further from Gertie’s concrete plinth than it had been when they’d arrived. Sam was ahead of her, having let go of her hand to navigate the narrow stairs, and he walked away from the bus, down onto the beach, then turned towards her.
Gertie’s windows glowed soft yellow, a beacon in the dark behind them, competing with the silvery
moonlight. Lila took a step towards Sam and saw that he was still holding his drink. He was wearing a loose grey shirt and jeans, his hair ruffling gently in the breeze. He looked so at ease with himself; there wasn’t a hint of the awkwardness she’d seen during their first couple of encounters. Of course, that could be due to the large tequila shot he’d drunk on top of several vodka tonics, or because today he’d spent ages – hours, probably – kissing one of the most beautiful women Lila had ever seen. Over and over again. Take after take. That must have been a huge ego boost. Lila swallowed.
‘So, Lila,’ he said. ‘What is it you’re thinking about this evening, then? Isn’t this place magnificent, a true beauty?’
Her heart skipped. Sam turned and gestured at the inky water, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His Irish accent was broad, but he spoke softly, in a low, melodious thrum. She had known when she’d asked him that it was rude – prying into his personal life, asking him to perform for her – and yet here he was, giving her a private viewing of the most toe-curlingly delicious voice, on a dark beach in the wilds of Cornwall.
‘Sam,’ she said. He grinned and walked backwards, towards the water. She followed. ‘Sam,’ she repeated, ‘that was … lovely.’
‘Lovely?’ he asked, still in his Irish brogue. ‘Pure lovely, was it?’
Lila giggled. ‘Very lovely. Thank you. Which part of Ireland does your dad come from?’
‘Donegal, northwest. But I think I told you – I haven’t been back since I was three, even though I’ve got a lot of cousins. I should really make the effort.’
‘You’ve been busy being an actor everywhere else. Are you based in London?’
He took a sip of his drink and nodded. ‘It’s the easiest, for auditions and meetings.’ He’d slipped back into his normal accent, just a hint of his heritage burring some of the words. ‘And I’ve got a lot of friends there now. How about you? Keeley mentioned you come from London, but you can’t be on holiday here, because … you’re here. Unless this is your idea of a holiday?’ He laughed gently.
‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s more Charlie’s thing, working every hour available. I’m having a break, from London.’
‘You’ve got a job to go back to?’
Lila shook her head, unable to hide the involuntary shiver.
‘Are you cold?’ Sam asked. ‘We should go back in.’
‘I’m fine.’ Lila pulled at the collar of her leather jacket. ‘You’re the one in shirtsleeves. I don’t want to go back in, unless you do?’
Sam glanced around and found a wide rock with a flat top at the edge of the sand. He patted it, then hopped up onto it and held his hand out for her. ‘It’s not damp.’
She accepted his hand to help her up, even though it was entirely unnecessary. His skin was warm and smooth, and if her body’s response was anything to go by, shot through with electric currents.
‘So,’ he said, ‘no job in London. This is your permanent gig now?’
‘It’s Charlie’s bus, Charlie’s business. I’ve sort of stepped into her life, because it was going a lot better than mine. And now she’s off in America for a month with her boyfriend Daniel, I can pretend it all belongs to me. For a while, anyway.’
‘Is your old life in London that bad?’
‘I hurt my friend Clara.’ She shrugged. ‘I have a tendency to get overenthusiastic, to throw myself into things that don’t always work out, and I end up bringing people down with me in the process. It’s a habit I can’t seem to break, and this time, I lost a friendship over it. Then I came to Cornwall and inadvertently got us this Estelle gig. Charlie was so cross to begin with.’ Lila laughed. ‘It was another Lila special, and it’s pretty miraculous it’s all worked out as well as it has.’
‘I can’t imagine, though of course I don’t know the details, that what happened with your friend is completely unforgivable. What I do know is that the set wouldn’t be the same without you. Knowing Gertie’s waiting for me, with you on board: the perfect coffee, one of those muffins – it’s a highlight of my day.’
‘And you’ve not even tried one of my hot chocolates yet.’
‘Something special, are they?’
‘Just as with everything Gertie has to offer,’ Lila grinned. ‘But I suppose when you have to fit into your costumes, those slimline jackets and breeches, hot chocolates with marshmallows are a no-go.’
‘I think, on certain occasions,’ Sam said slowly, ‘hot chocolates can be allowed. And if they’re as good as everything else on board Gertie then I’m going to have to try one.’ The moonlight was lighting one side of his face as if it was a roaming spotlight that had found its target. She didn’t blame the moon; she would have picked him out, too.
‘Do you want one now?’ Lila asked, trying to ignore the effect his gaze was having on her.
‘Sounds great.’
They went inside and Lila found the cocoa powder, heated the milk, dug out a packet of mini marshmallows. Sam asked if he could help, and Lila tasked him with getting orders from upstairs. He returned with an order for five hot chocolates and a small bottle of brandy. He added a generous slug to every mug except Lila and Claude’s. She finished them off with the marshmallows and a sprinkle of chocolate curls, and handed Sam a tray to take back upstairs.
‘I’ll meet you outside,’ she said. ‘Can you bring Marmite with you?’
‘Sure.’
Lila returned to their rock, put Sam’s mug on the flat surface and cradled hers in both hands. Gazing at the moonlit, restless sea, she crossed her legs, inhaled the sweet, rich scent of hot chocolate, and wished the night could last for ever. She turned at the sound of footsteps. Sam had Marmite in his arms.
‘He’s pretty sleepy,’ he said, sitting next to her and holding the dog on his lap.
‘I thought he might be, but I need to make sure he does his business out here before he settles down for the night.’ Marmite squirmed, getting comfortable in his new, makeshift cradle. Sam gingerly removed an arm and picked up his drink to take a sip.
‘Great hot chocolate,’ he said.
‘I told you.’ She nudged his shoulder and he laughed.
‘I didn’t doubt it for a second. You’ve only been working on Charlie’s bus for a few weeks, is that right?’
‘I arrived in Cornwall on Leap Day, started working on the bus and then filming began two weeks later.’
‘But what about all that stuff about coffee beans? You have a seriously good knowledge of coffee – and making the perfect hot chocolate – for someone who’s only been doing this for a few weeks.’
‘I worked in a coffee lounge before this, in London. We were not allowed to call it a café, or even a coffee shop,’ she said, deepening her voice in a vague impression of her old boss, Giuliano. ‘It was far too upmarket for that. The Espresso Lounge, to be precise.’
‘No jelly beans in sight, then?’
‘Not even a bubble-gum-flavour one,’ Lila confirmed. ‘We served lots of City high-flyers, and offered our barista expertise to corporate events.’ Her voice trailed away as she pictured Clara’s face, her horrified expression the moment everything had gone hideously wrong. She thought that if somehow fate had allowed her to resolve things with her friend and still end up working on Estelle, then she would have been messaging Clara about Sam. As it was, Marmite and Jasper were her audience every evening, listening to her wax lyrical about him, but with a severe lack of helpful advice to offer in return.
‘Hey, Lila?’
She couldn’t believe she was here, tonight, on this beautiful beach, sitting so close to him.
‘Lila?’
But this was always how it was at the beginning, wasn’t it? An initial spark of attraction, leading on to something heady and passionate that would run its course and then end, hopefully without acrimony on either side. And anyway, they barely knew each other.
His voice cut into her thoughts. He was singing, his tone lyrical and deep, his Irish accent pronounced again. He sang th
e first few lines of ‘Hey There Delilah’, which was one of her favourite songs, because it was romantic and complimentary, and not the usual one people serenaded her with when they learnt her name. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, a shiver of pleasure running through her.
‘That got your attention, at least,’ he said.
‘Sam, that was … beautiful. You can sing in an Irish accent, too. Did you know you had such a good voice?’
His laugh was loud, and Marmite jerked up and scrabbled off his lap, padding across the sand until he was a few feet away. ‘Sorry, Marmite,’ he said. ‘Shit. Come back!’ He bent and held out his hand, but Marmite stared balefully at him and then turned away.
‘He’ll be OK,’ Lila said. ‘He needs to go and do his doggy business anyway. But Sam – your voice. Have you done any musicals?’
‘They’re not on the top of my to-do list,’ he admitted. ‘But I don’t shy away from the odd singsong, especially after a few.’ He held up his drink.
‘That’s not the song I’m usually serenaded with.’
‘We’re talking the Tom Jones hit, I presume?’
‘You presume right. Yours was much better. Much nicer.’ It was just a few lyrics, he didn’t necessarily think she looked pretty tonight. ‘Can’t you make Robert Bramerton Irish? All the female viewers – and no doubt some guys, too – would be falling all over themselves to buy the official Sam Magee calendar the moment it appeared on Amazon.’
‘And they won’t if I stick to my natural voice?’
‘Of course they will! But with the Irish too, there would be hordes, Sam. Hordes. I would tell everyone: I met him, I served him coffee. He liked my muffins.’
Sam’s laugh was more of a guffaw, and it set Lila off, too. Soon they were both laughing uncontrollably, Lila clutching her half-empty mug so she didn’t upend hot chocolate all over her skirt. Marmite glared at them, his head cocked to one side.
‘It’s a bit more serious than coffee and muffins,’ Sam said eventually. ‘You’d have to tell everyone that we were friends. You could say: see that handsome man on the telly, we’re mates. He’s a great singer, even better looking in real life and genuinely humble, to boot.’
The Cornish Cream Tea Summer Page 3