“A clown?”
“Yep, it’s bigger than Amy. He says it’s to make up for the embarrassingly small gift he had to confiscate on Christmas Eve. God knows what that was, if it was worse than the psycho clown!”
“Shaun’s the psycho, keep the door bolted!”
“So, are you getting down to work, then? Are you weaving in any new sexy scenes now that you know it’s Timothy Calder playing the lead and you can make him take his kit off?”
“No! That wouldn’t be true to the book. Although that is a very good idea! Anyway I’ve barely unpacked, so give me a chance.”
“Did you take the turquoise bath robe I got you for Chrimble?”
“Yes, it’ll be ideal here. It’s a bit chilly. I really should go.”
“Okay, call me lots, though, I’m missing you already,” said Sarah, in a small voice,
“Wimp! Please make sure Andy feeds Marmalade.”
“Stop worrying. It’ll be fine,” Sarah said in her best reassuring-mum voice.
“Okay. Speak soon. Bye.”
By the end of the afternoon, Kate already found herself getting into the script-writing with Marcus’s help. It was like returning to old friends as she talked about the characters and helped to bring them to life for Marcus. Over the following few days, they found that they quickly got into a routine of writing, walking, writing and eating, which seemed to work well. Marcus helped her visualise scenes by role-playing some of them, which had made Kate very self-conscious and giggly to start with, but once she got a feel for it, she could see how it helped. She even found she was enjoying herself and, for now, no shutters were coming down to stop it.
Kate received regular calls and texts from Sarah and Amy, which always brightened her day. Shaun appeared to be behaving himself, which made Sarah’s life easier and gave Kate less to worry about. It sounded as if he was trying to worm his way back into Sarah’s good books with flowers and cheap wine, but Kate knew Sarah was smarter than that. Kate called Andy once a week to check that the house was still standing, that he and Concetta weren’t holding mad parties, and that someone had remembered to feed Marmalade. Didi wrote her the most beautiful and funny letters, which had Kate laughing out loud.
One morning in February, the daily paper arrived and Marcus heaved a sigh as he came back to the kitchen.
“Stupid boy,” muttered Marcus, as he put the paper on the table and returned to his boiled egg. Kate came into the kitchen, gave Marcus a peck on the cheek as she did every morning and went to put the kettle on. She read the headline upside down ‘Timothy COLDer – read exclusive with devastated Lumina!’
“Oh dear, is there going to be a problem for filming?” asked Kate, making herself a cup of black tea.
“They’ve both signed quite rigid contracts, so they’ll just have to be adult about it and work together, but I can’t deny it worries me. I doubt we’ll get the best chemistry between our two screen lovers if the actors playing them hate each other.”
“Ah, I see how that could be a problem. Can I read it?” asked Kate, reaching for the paper, which had a stunning front-page picture of Tim wearing dark glasses.
“You can, but don’t believe a word of it. I’ll call Tim later to find out what’s really gone on.”
They had a very productive day, so they were both quite pleased with themselves as they sat in the pub at the end of the village perusing the now-familiar dessert menu. It was a very old pub that had been recently renovated and they had made every effort to retain its original features. It was part-thatched and part-tiled due to extensions over its history. It was perfectly placed, with the village on one side and beautiful rolling countryside on the other, revealing the most stunning sunsets – if you knew the best place to sit. It was starting to feel like a home from home to Kate, but it was having an impact on her waistline. For some reason it was difficult to not have a dessert if you were having a pub meal. Kate settled on the crème brûlée for the second night in a row, put down her menu and surveyed Marcus’s furrowed brow as he checked his phone again to see if Tim had called him back.
“So, is Timothy Calder really horrid?” asked Kate sipping her wine and watching Marcus’s already-lined face wrinkle like a discarded sweet wrapper.
“I know it’s a cliché, but you shouldn’t believe everything you read, you know.”
“So, how much of it is true?” asked Kate. Marcus pondered for a moment.
“About 80 per cent of it is true, I admit. You see, people usually want something from Tim. There are a lot of women who have decided that they are going to marry him and then there are the ones who just want the publicity. There’s a lot of kudos in just being photographed with him. It creates instant media attention.”
“So, you’re saying that people use him rather than the other way around,” mused Kate sceptically.
“Actually, I think it’s mutual. People use him to further their career, make contacts, get seen in the right places, and Tim gets whatever it is he wants.”
“Sex,” said Kate, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Well, yes,” conceded Marcus.
“So, what is there to like about him?”
“You’ll see for yourself when you meet him at rehearsals, but he is charming and, deep down, he is a nice guy. He does have a caring side. Honest,” added Marcus, noting Kate’s disbelieving look.
“Not exactly husband-and-father material, though, is he?”
“He’s not your traditional father-figure, no,” smiled Marcus.
“Try not to worry about him. He’ll call you back when he’s ready,” said Kate, in an attempt to ease Marcus’s worrying.
Dessert was fabulous, as always, and Kate was now feeling just a little bit like an overstuffed turkey as they headed back through the village to Marcus’s chocolate-box cottage. Marcus linked his arm through Kate’s as they walked companionably along.
“I have a rather nice St Emilion I’ve been saving. Shall we be naughty and crack it open?” said Marcus, giving a little pretend shudder of excitement.
“You know, I’m a bit of a heathen with wine, so it’ll be wasted on me. Why not save it for when Niamh comes to stay?”
“Good idea! We’ll open the Rioja. You’re not worth anything better.”
“Thanks!” said Kate digging him playfully in the ribs. As they approached the cottage, with the streetlights behind them, Kate gripped Marcus’s arm and stopped him walking any further. “There’s someone there,” she whispered, as she pointed to the side of the house. “They’ve just disappeared around the back.”
“Are you certain?” asked Marcus, as he strained to see. Kate inched up to the front window and peered through. She couldn’t see anyone inside and the front door still looked secure. As she peered through the window, she could see a shadow moving across the back of the house. Suddenly feeling brave, she beckoned Marcus over.
“There’s someone in the back garden,” she whispered.
“Could be kids?” suggested Marcus, looking hopeful.
“Too tall,” said Kate, shaking her head. “Here, take this and go that way,” she instructed, as she handed Marcus a decorative stone from the front garden and sent him to the other side of the cottage. Kate picked up a heavy watering can, held it up to chest height and inched her way to the corner of the cottage. She could just hear the footsteps coming creeping in her direction, but they were barely audible over the thumping of her heart. As the hooded, tall figure turned the corner, both screamed and Kate threw the watering can, which hit the intruder square in the chest and sent him backwards into the rhododendron bush.
“Kate! Are you alright?” called Marcus through the darkness as he hurried to where the screams had come from, his decorative stone held aloft.
“Yes, I’m fine, I’ve got him,” called Kate, although she hadn’t technically got him, whoever he was – he was lying inelegantly in the rhododendron bush. It was a scene very similar to what happens when a deckchair collapses and the intruder was now struggling
to stand up. Kate looked around for something heavier to throw as Marcus appeared protectively at her side, his face grim.
“Tim?” said Marcus, peering at the hooded figure flailing in the bush.
“Bloody hell, Marcus! Thank God it’s you. I thought I was being attacked. I’m bloody soaked!” said Tim crossly, as he dragged himself upright, took off his hood and tried to brush the water off his clothes. Kate just stood next to Marcus without saying a word. The option of running away had crossed her mind, but who was she kidding? She wouldn’t be running very far after the crème brûlée, so she just followed Marcus and a very wet and grumpy Timothy Calder into the cottage in silence as Marcus chatted away, finishing every sentence with “dear boy”.
Kate tried to think of something appropriate to say, but words failed her. The moment for “sorry” seemed to have passed and her heart was still racing quite fast. Kate took off her coat, walked past Tim and Marcus, and went to put the kettle on. At least she could offer hot drinks once she’d found her tongue.
“He’s gone to have a shower. No harm done, just dented pride. He’ll be fine,” said Marcus with a shrug as he entered the kitchen.
“I was just doing hot drinks.”
“I think he might want something stronger. I know I do,” smiled Marcus.
“Sorry,” said Kate.
“My darling girl, don’t apologise. You were tremendously brave. Goodness, it’s his own bally fault if he sneaks about in the dark,” said Marcus, striding over and giving her shoulders a squeeze.
“Thanks, Marcus.” Kate made herself a black Lady Grey tea and headed into the living room, where Marcus had got the wood burner going and was pouring out two whiskies. Kate put down her tea next to her favourite chair and watched Marcus fussing over the fire for a couple of minutes before deciding she needed to go to the loo.
In the cottage the toilet was separate from the bathroom and, once inside, she found herself listening at the wall. What was she expecting to hear? A Hollywood theme tune that accompanied Timothy Calder’s every action? She heard the bathroom door slam shut as Tim exited. Kate gave herself a mental shake, ran a brush through her hair, applied some Vaseline to her lips and straightened her shirt. She was about to meet Timothy Calder and wanted to make an impression, although she did fear she might already have done that with the watering can.
As she came downstairs, she could hear friendly chatter, which made her feel a little better as she was feeling ridiculously nervous. Was it the fact that she was about to properly meet a world-famous and extremely handsome actor, or the fact that she’d just tried to impale him with a watering can? She couldn’t be sure. As she walked in, both men hushed and stood up, which took her a little by surprise and reminded her of period dramas and the lost art of manners. She thrust out her hand to Tim.
“I’m Kate, how do you do?” She winced at the formality of her words.
“Well, I’m dryer than I was. Very pleased to meet you, Kate. I’m Tim,” grinned Tim, as he took her hand and they shook firmly. Tim sat back down in Kate’s favourite chair, picked up her cup of tea and started to drink it. She was waiting for him to spit it out in disgust, but he didn’t. Marcus surveyed the situation.
“Ah, Tim. Here’s a whisky for you, when you’re ready. I’ll put the kettle on and get Kate a cuppa. You two chat,” he instructed, waving his hands between the two of them as he left.
Kate tried not to stare at Tim, but it was hard not to in such a small space. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks as her heart thumped away. After an awkward pause Kate swallowed hard and started to speak. “I’m really sorry about the whole watering-can episode,” she said, feeling very uncomfortable as she stood in the middle of the room, looking out of place.
“No need for an apology. My fault entirely. I knew Marcus was here, so I thought I would just wait until he returned. I guessed he was either at the pub or out for a walk. I hadn’t realised you were here…”
“I had told him!” shouted Marcus, who was clearly eavesdropping in the kitchen.
“So, when I heard voices I ducked around the back. I’m also a bit twitchy, as I have the press on my tail.”
Kate felt the warmth ebb away from her cheeks, which was a huge relief. “We saw the paper today. So have you and Lumina… um fallen out?” Kate cringed again at her choice of words. They weren’t at primary school.
“Fallen out?” Tim mulled this over. “You could say that. She booked for us to do an ‘At Home’ spread with OK Magazine and had asked them about wedding exclusives. So I thought it was best to put a halt to things.”
“And now she’s gone to the papers saying you’ve broken her heart and given her dog depression,” said Kate, reversing into the armchair to sit down.
“Yes, apparently so. I only met the dog twice. Once, she brought it to dinner and it snarled and yapped at me the whole time. The second time, I put things in Lumina’s bag without realising the dog was in there, asleep, and he didn’t take kindly to a hairbrush up his bum. So I doubt he’s missing me too much, let alone depressed as a result.” Kate smiled, but she didn’t know what else to say. She was quite proud of herself for the conversation she’d managed so far. Kate was not confident at the best of times – but this was different. It was the weirdest thing talking to someone you’ve only ever seen in films or magazines and she was really struggling with the whole “not staring” thing.
“So, rehearsals in a few weeks. That’ll be fun,” said Marcus, as he returned to the room and handed Kate another cup of tea.
“Do you know what crew we’ve got yet?” Tim asked Marcus and the conversation drifted away from Kate. She shuffled back in the armchair so her body was angled towards the fire, but she was still able to have a sneaky stare at Timothy Calder without it being too obvious.
Chapter 8
The next morning Kate was woken by the sound of the radio and laughter, which she thought was probably one of the nicest ways to wake up. As she came downstairs in her jeans and an oversized Arran jumper she could hear the conversation as she approached.
“I don’t care what you say, Marcus, if I was Niamh I would not be on a different continent while you were here with another woman. That’s all,” laughed Tim.
“I’m not having this ridiculous conversation with you. Now, out of the way, you’re neither use nor ornament.”
Kate felt a little guilty for eavesdropping as she wandered into the kitchen trying to look nonchalant and failing badly as she pulled the sleeves of her jumper down to cover her hands. Kate decided, after what she’d just overheard, not to give Marcus the usual peck on the cheek. She walked in and even though she knew he was there, she was still excited and slightly phased to see Timothy Calder in the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Ah, good morning. Tea and toast?” asked Marcus, as he danced around the country-style kitchen with an elegance all of his own.
“Yes, please,” Kate nodded. Tim already had a mug in his hand and he was leaning against the Aga, which at this time in the morning was the warmest spot in the kitchen, so Kate hesitantly went to join him. He gave a brief nod as she came to stand next to him. She checked the distance between them and decided that maybe she was a bit close, so she shuffled away slightly. When she looked up Tim was staring at her and her face went into instant-blush mode.
“Are you staying for a few days or do you need to keep moving?” she gabbled.
“No sign of the paps as yet, so I’ll stay until I’m rumbled. I’ve got Terry driving the car around town on a random basis and Pip is booking me into hotels and restaurants I won’t be going near, so that appears to be keeping them occupied for now.”
“Around London, then,” she said, feeling pleased that she at least knew that, thanks to Didi.
“Er, yeah,” said Tim, with a brief twitch of his eyebrows.
“Who are Terry and Pip?” asked Kate, relaxing a fraction and leaning her side against the Aga.
“Driver and PA,” said Tim.
&nb
sp; Marcus brought Kate a mug of tea, removed hot toast from the toaster, and set it off again with another four slices safely on board.
Tim had gone quiet again and every time she glanced at him he was looking her way. The awkwardness was enough to make her try again with the conversation. “What are you going to do whilst we’re working on the script?” asked Kate, hugging her mug with both hands.
“Huh, good question. I have absolutely no idea.”
“I guess you’re busy a lot of the time. What do you usually do when you have a free day or two?” Tim blinked hard. Perhaps he didn’t really want to tell Kate what he usually did. The toaster went ping in the background.
“Waste it,” said Marcus, as he ferried jams from the pantry cupboard to the large wooden table.
“Yes, you’re spot on, Marcus, but I won’t waste it whilst I’m here.”
“You could go for a walk,” suggested Kate. “It’s really very pretty, especially down by the river and the woods and the sunset is simply stunning.”
“Thanks, but I don’t really want to get spotted, so I’ll probably stay in and… read,” said Tim, keeping his eyes focused on his tea. Marcus couldn’t contain his laughter.
“You’re going to read an actual book?” chuckled Marcus.
“I have books,” said Tim. “Quite a collection, actually,” he said turning back to Kate.
“Yes, you have,” said Marcus, as he turned to Kate. “He even has some he hasn’t finished colouring in yet!” Kate couldn’t help but laugh. Tim smiled good-naturedly, but did look a little put out. “Come on, eat, eat!” said Marcus, as the three of them sat down to the mountain of toast.
Over breakfast, Tim and Marcus chatted about a mutual friend who was in and out of rehab, and Kate just concentrated on buttering her toast into the corners. When there was a pause in conversation, she leaned forward to speak and narrowly missed dragging her hair through her buttered toast. She swept it quickly out of the way and tucked it behind her ear.
“I’m guessing we’re eating dinner in tonight. Shall I cook?” she offered. She liked to cook and she and Marcus really needed to break their pub-meal habit.
It Started at Sunset Cottage Page 8