It Started at Sunset Cottage

by Bella Osborne

  “Bugger me, it’s a giant smurf!” he laughed, and Kate smirked, but tried to give him a stern look. “Sorry, can I make it up to you?”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll have a tea and a walnut whip please. I’m going to get dressed so I’ll be down in five minutes.”

  “I didn’t know there were walnut whips in the house. I love those things!” and he hurtled downstairs like a child on Christmas morning.

  Kate did a sweep of the ground floor and found it empty. She knew Marcus had gone out in search of a bottle of quaffable red, but had expected to find Tim. As she walked into the kitchen she saw a shadow in the garden, so wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself she went to investigate. Tim was sitting on the garden bench surrounded by a randomly heaped collection of blankets and throws. He didn’t hear Kate approach until she was sitting on the bench next to him dragging blankets around herself.

  “Here, let me help,” he said, wrapping a tartan throw around her shoulders and inadvertently giving her a fleeting squeeze as he did so. Kate shuddered, either from the chill in the air or because of the contact.

  “I bet you’ve seen sunsets all over the world.”

  “I have, but it’s rare that I actually have time to watch a sunset develop. It’s often a quick glance out of taxi or hotel window.”

  “What better place to watch it than Sunset Cottage? I can see why Marcus bought this place.”

  “Huh,” snorted Tim, “He bought it because he’d just sold a script to Hollywood and Niamh thought it was a good omen with its tenuous link to Sunset Strip. It was weeks before they realised it was a prime location for watching the sun set over the Cotswold countryside.”

  Kate chuckled. This was one story Marcus had failed to share with her. Tim handed her a mug and a walnut whip.

  “Wow, I didn’t know you could make tea,” said Kate.

  “I can. I just don’t get much opportunity.”

  “No, I hear kettles are very rare in Hollywood.” She sipped her tea and nodded her approval.

  “You really can’t do the normal stuff, you know, you would need a team of bodyguards to go to the supermarket. I find hotels are the easiest option.”

  “When was the last time you cooked for yourself?”

  “Ooh, let me think,” Tim pondered for a while. “That would be about eight years ago.”

  “Eight years?” Kate nearly spat her tea out.

  “I don’t need to, there’s always someone to do it for me…” Kate shook her head and Tim continued “They make you like this. You become dependent, and that’s how divas are made. Dirk Bogarde couldn’t write a cheque.”

  “Can you?”

  “Don’t need to, I’ve got cards,” and he stuck his tongue out at her.

  “Do you do any normal stuff?”

  “Not often, but I’m still just Tim.”

  “I still find that odd, because I know you as Timothy Calder,” said Kate.

  “I don’t follow,” he said shuffling around so that he was half facing Kate but keeping a tight hold on a rather floral blanket.

  “Colin Firth is always Colin Firth, it’s always his full name, right?”

  “Yes, I know Colin very well.”

  “That’s my point. You know a man called Colin, but the rest of the world knows a film star named Colin Firth.”

  Tim was eyeing her speculatively. “You’re not convinced, are you?” said Kate.

  “Not really.”

  “Maybe Colin was a bad example. What about Marlon Brando?”

  “One of the greats. I never met him.”

  “So, if you were introduced to him and he says, ‘Hi, I’m Marlon’.”

  “Oh, God, I see what you mean. He’s not just a Marlon, he’s the great Marlon Brando. Marlon is some character from Emmerdale.”

  “Exactly,” ended Kate, taking a bite off the top of her walnut whip to emphasise her victory. They both sipped tea in silence for a bit, watching as the sun drifted south, taking the day with it and leaving behind a chaos of colour strewn lazily across the early evening sky.

  “I like really bad knock, knock jokes; that’s normal isn’t it?” said Tim.

  “Well, it’s not celebrity, but I’m not sure it’s normal,” said Kate, with a shake of her head.

  “What’s not to like about knock, knock jokes?”

  “They’re silly and not very funny.”

  “But that’s the point, they make you groan, rather than belly-laugh. Oh come on, they’re great. Knock knock,” Tim swivelled himself around a bit more to face Kate directly, looking eager for her to participate. Kate sighed.

  “Who’s there?”

  “I smelp.”

  “I smelp who?”

  “See! How is that not hilarious?” said Tim, in between chuckles.

  “You got me to say ‘I smell poo’. You are an evil genius.” Kate rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, okay, better one. Knock, knock.”

  “Who’s there?” Kate sighed heavily.

  “Interrupting muppet.”

  “Interrupting m…”

  “Mahna Mahna, do doo do do-do.” Tim grinned at her.

  “I’m going to start dinner, as I fear you have a very long list of these.”

  “I have!” Tim said looking quite proud and he smiled to himself as he watched her go back inside. He turned back to watch the end of the sunset; reds and oranges diminishing into shades of purple as night claimed the colourful display. Tim stared into the night sky and pulled the tartan throw closer to him.

  Over the last couple of days, Kate had found herself much more of an even contributor to conversations. Marcus and Tim had both given her some useful tips about how to work with the various crew members and Kate was very glad of the advice. Tim had read Love.com and Marcus had made him a sticker saying “Good Reader”, which Tim good-naturedly had worn all through dinner. He had been complimentary about the Love.com story and had asked some good questions about the characters, their backgrounds and motivations.

  Kate got off the phone from Didi and saw that Tim had joined her in the kitchen and was watching her as she updated one of the lists stuck on the fridge door.

  “Tea?” she asked instinctively.

  “Please,” he replied.

  Kate now knew that Tim took his tea in exactly the same way as her; Lady Grey, black with no sugar. Kate found herself still grinning and she felt she should explain.

  “That was Didi, a friend of mine. She’s recovering from an operation and being nursed is driving her barmy. She’s very funny.”

  “I could hear that. I had to come and investigate what was making you laugh so much.”

  “You can’t fail to enjoy yourself with Didi.” This piqued Tim’s interest, but he kept it to himself. “She’s looking for a man. She thinks she might have found one, but he’s on a different floor, so she’s bribing everyone to wheel her down to him. He’s had an eye operation, which Didi thinks is a bonus because he’ll see her in soft focus!” laughed Kate. “Do you have any mad friends?” she asked.

  “Ah, now there’s a question, but the tricky word in the sentence is ‘friends’,” said Tim. Kate looked puzzled, but listened intently. “In my business, you have hundreds of ‘friends’, most of them you have only ever air-kissed at parties, some you may have exchanged a couple of sentences with. Then you have the next layer down, who are ‘friends’ you made on a film set, so you do know them well for a short amount of time but haven’t heard from them since.”

  “No proper friends?”

  “Bernie is a good friend, but he’s also my brother. Rarely do you have true friends; I can count mine on one hand.”

  “Wow, there was an answer I wasn’t expecting. It’s a very different life, isn’t it?”

  “Sometimes I feel like Mickey Mouse.”

  “Recognised everywhere and loved by millions of screaming girls?” grinned Kate.

  “Not just that. People want your autograph and a photo with you, but that’s it. It’s very transactiona
l, most never speak or even say thanks.”

  “That is just like being Mickey.” Kate thought of her trips to Disney World as a child.

  “Except, unlike Mickey, I can never take the costume off.”

  Tim’s phone sprang to life and he waved his apologies and left the room quickly, leaving Kate sipping her tea. Tim was very attached to his mobile phone; he never actually put it down. He frequently disappeared to take or answer calls and someone called Jackie was a regular caller.

  That night, over homemade beef casserole, which Kate had left simmering gently in the traditional Aga for most of the day, talk turned to read-throughs, rehearsals and filming, which were now looming as most of the script had gone for storyboarding.

  “Max says the storyboards are coming together and we have a draft crew list, but that will change,” said Marcus, and Tim nodded as he dipped some bread into his sauce.

  “I’m surprised by all the steps in the process and how long it takes,” said Kate.

  “This is moving very quickly; I think my schedule is the only thing slowing it down,” said Tim, spearing a mushroom, “I’m flying out to Canada this weekend for three weeks of filming. I’m playing a gangland boss.”

  “Only three weeks?” queried Kate, a little shocked at him having taken what was clearly only a small part in the film. As if reading her thoughts he said, “It’s a key role. You see, I cost lots of money,” said Tim, “so they will film all my scenes back to back over the three weeks, just to get them done quickly. So it will be the usual madness. The rest of the film will be a few months being filmed. I’ve also already done a couple of weeks on location in London for it, too, but it’s a Canadian film company so the main set is in Canada and my character is in his office most of the time, until he gets shot.”

  “You need to be doing less of the action stuff. It’s time you grew up,” chuckled Marcus. Kate smirked. She guessed Tim was over 30, but he certainly looked a lot younger.

  “It’s knackering, all that running and fighting. It is!” protested Tim as Kate and Marcus were exchanging looks and smiling to each other. “I do most of my own stunts… maybe not as many as I used to, but that’s more to do with Health and Safety than with me. You try jumping off a building onto a moving car!”

  “Must be terribly hard,” said Marcus, nodding earnestly.

  “Bog off. The pair of you,” Tim said, as he leant back in his chair and savoured a mouthful of St Emillion. He looked across at Kate, who was meticulously rounding up peas with her fork. Her long hair was loosely clipped back off her face and he took in her neat eyebrows, pale-blue eyes and heart-shaped face. She wasn’t wearing any make-up. All he’d seen her apply since he’d been there was a little Vaseline to her lips using her finger. Something he’d found strangely erotic, but he had put it down to his unplanned couple of days of celibacy. Kate looked up and met Tim’s gaze and gave a little smile.

  “Who has room for butterscotch tart?” she asked.

  “Always,” said Marcus, raising his glass as if in a toast to butterscotch tart.

  “Just a little,” said Tim. “A few days away from the gym is a dangerous thing in my business,” he said, patting his smooth stomach.

  Kate remembered a few topless scenes from the Agent X films and smiled to herself as she sliced up the butterscotch tart. After dinner, Kate and Marcus cleared away the dinner things and loaded the dishwasher while Tim went to relax in the living room. This had become their little routine. Kate and Marcus joined Tim, and Marcus dutifully refilled their wine glasses.

  “Look, it’s starting to snow,” said Kate, as she saw the first few wispy flakes swirl outside the window. As the flakes grew fatter and started to settle, the three of them found themselves staring out of the window. Tim’s arm brushed against Kate’s and they both jumped slightly at the sensation. Tim smiled awkwardly at Kate and she pulled her long grey cardy around herself and folded her arms. They stood bewitched by the white blur that fell rapidly, with flakes so clearly visible, but each one then instantly vanished as they met the already lain snow. A breeze picked up and hurled a flurry of snow along the lane outside and all three heads followed its journey as it sailed over a parked car and the windscreen wipers swished across the screen.

  “Pap!” blurted out Tim, as he quickly stepped to the side of the window.

  “Bugger,” said Marcus, straining to see the occupant of the car.

  “Are you sure? I think they might be drinking something,” said Kate, noticing that they were lifting something dark-coloured up to their face.

  “You’re right, they’ve got a long lens in there. Bugger,” Marcus repeated. Tim was already on his phone talking to Terry, his driver, and then to Pippa.

  “Pips, you’re an angel. No, it’s okay, I’ve spoken to Terry. He’s leaving now. Great. Bye.” He ended the call and addressed the two concerned faces. “It’s okay, Terry is on his way. He was the right side of town, so he’ll be here within the hour. The apartment and my hotel are still surrounded, so Pip will book me into Browns. Right, I’d best gather my things together,” he said, trying to sound bright. Marcus stepped forward and patted his arm.

  “Ah well, they were bound to track you down eventually.”

  Marcus drew the curtains and went to give the fire a prod. Kate fidgeted about, not really knowing what to do. A few days ago she struggled to not blush every time she spoke to Tim, but now they had an easy way between them. Perhaps being trapped in a small cottage together was an accelerant and speeded up the process of getting on with people. She went upstairs and knocked tentatively at his open door, before pushing it slowly open. Tim was sitting on the bed looking forlorn as he fiddled with his phone. An open holdall lay on the bed next to him.

  “You okay?” asked Kate.

  “Yeah,” said Tim, letting out a lungful of air. “I only came here to escape, but I guess I’ve surprised myself by really enjoying it.”

  “Sometimes you just need to recharge the batteries. Look at things from a different perspective. Or write a list,” she paused and he snorted a laugh. “Maybe the list thing is just me, then, anyway… a little something for the journey,” she said, as she put the last of the Walnut Whips into the holdall.

  Tim stared at his feet for a bit before turning to look at Kate, “You are a really lovely person, Kate,” said Tim his eyes scanning her face, as if looking at her properly for the first time.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said getting up to leave.

  “Thanks, Kate,” said Tim, and he opened his mouth, as if he was about to add something, but he seemed to change his mind.

  “Right, well, I’ll leave you to your packing,” said Kate and she left the room wondering why she unexpectedly felt a little down. Maybe it was the suddenness of Tim’s departure, she wasn’t sure.

  When he came downstairs, Tim was dressed in black and wearing the hoody that she’d thrown the watering can at. He was also wearing his dark glasses, which somehow made his perfect cheekbones and jaw line more noticeable. He dropped the leather holdall at his feet and chatted conspiratorially with Marcus. Tim’s phone rang.

  “Okay, Terry, great. Plan is for you to meet me up the hill. Yep, that’s it. About ten minutes. Great I’ll set off in five. Bye.”

  “Right, darling girl, we have a situation. You’ll need your coat and wellies on,” said Marcus. Kate couldn’t help feeling a sudden twinge of excitement at the unfolding events and the glimpse into the craziness of Tim’s life. There was something different about Tim and it wasn’t just the sunglasses. His manner had changed, the self confidence she’d seen at the charity ball was back and he was pacing like a boxer before a big fight. Her new friend, Tim, had disappeared and Timothy Calder was back and she felt a little sad. The feeling was soon overridden as Kate piled on the outdoor wear and dug out the sunglasses, which made her giggle a little childishly as the three figures stood looking at each other in the dim light.

  “We had best say our goodbyes here,” said Marcus, engul
fing Tim in a bear hug. They slapped each other on the back. “Loved it, dear boy, wonderful to have you here. Niamh will be devastated that she’s missed you.”

  “Thank you, Marcus. You’re a true friend. Give Niamh my love. I promise we’ll catch up before filming.” Tim turned to stand square in front of Kate and she realised she was glued to the spot and she was her fifteen-year-old self again: shy, unsure and very awkward. She decided to go for the hug at the same time that Tim had decided on an air kiss, so he ended up kissing her ear, which sent a lightning bolt somewhere she didn’t care to mention. Kate was mentally kicking herself; really what was she thinking by hugging Timothy Calder? Had she gone mad? They pulled apart and for reasons she could not explain, she thrust out her hand to shake Tim’s. He stared at it for a second and then took it in both hands. There was that shudder again.

  “Bye, Kate. It’s been an absolute pleasure. I really can’t wait to work with you. Look after the old boy for me, won’t you?”

  “I will. Bye, Tim, take care of yourself,” she said feeling herself blush. What was going on?

  “Right, action stations,” said Marcus, taking Kate’s arm and leading her out the front door, which he locked behind them. The snow was coming down hard now and it was complete madness to be out walking in it. Against Marcus’s better judgement Kate was roadside so that the photographer couldn’t get a good look at the man she was walking with. They kept up a good pace and strode past the parked car. Kate had to concentrate really hard to neither look at the parked car nor turn around to see if she could catch a glimpse of Tim sneaking out of the back garden and then making his way up the hill to where Terry would meet him. The snow was now near blizzard conditions and was stinging Kate’s face as they ploughed on through the village. She could barely see anything now that the sunglasses were covered in snow, so she was grateful to at last hear Marcus’s phone ring. They stopped for him to answer it.

  “Excellent. Well done.” He turned to look over his shoulder at the car, barely visible in the distance. “No, you’re okay, the pap is still there. Right. Okay. Bye now.” Marcus gave Kate’s arm a squeeze. “Plan executed beautifully. Agent X has made his escape. Let’s head back.” Kate felt a sense of relief and realised the adrenalin had been pumping around her system. As they walked back through the Christmas-card picture of a village, all covered in snow, albeit currently whipping quite violently at her back, she resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at the photographer as they passed. As they reached the cottage, Kate felt there was something sad about the set of lone footprints that made their way behind the bushes and up the hill.