by Fern Britton
Mavis started, ‘Miss Leighton, I entrusted you with the good reputation of my books and Mr Tibbs. You have disappointed me.’
Penny tried an apologetic smile which was ignored.
‘Mr Cunningham, Miss Dahling, you have both behaved reprehensibly.’ David started as if to defend himself, but Mavis cut him off: ‘I am not interested in feeble excuses. I am here for the purpose of damage limitation. You will, all three, say nothing at this press conference other than the scripted statements I shall give you in a moment. Miss Dahling and Mr Cunningham, you are to spend this afternoon giving your interviews and having your photographs taken for The Intruder magazine. I have secured an exclusive deal whereby no other publication or TV news channel will get to you. You will restore the brand of Mavis Crewe and Mr Tibbs, giving us all the chance of a wealthier future. Do you understand?’
They nodded. Dahlia asked, ‘How much will we be getting from the magazine for all this?’
Mavis’s pencilled eyebrows drew themselves into a stern line. ‘That is none of your business. I am saving your arses here.’
‘Right. Of course.’ Dahlia tried not to look disappointed.
Mavis turned her attention to Penny. ‘Miss Leighton, are you able to continue shooting scenes without our two main characters this afternoon?’
‘Yes. I shall get Gilly and Sven on to it right away.’
‘Good. And while these two are having their photos taken, you and I shall watch the rushes you have already shot.’
‘OK.’ Penny felt she was back at school.
‘Miss Dahling, Mr Cunningham, here are your prepared statements. Go and learn them. I shall see you in ten minutes in the hotel lounge.’
Looking like school children, the two actors, accompanied by Ben and a couple of Intruder security men, left the room.
Mavis straightened the skirt of her electric-blue power suit and sat down.
‘God, I could do with a Scotch. Would you join me?’
‘Damn right,’ replied Penny.
One of the three remaining members of the Intruder team disappeared to find the bar.
‘I wasn’t too hard on them, was I?’ Mavis asked Penny, who smiled.
‘You were bloody fantastic.’
‘Bless you. It’s much easier to just tell them what to do. We don’t have time for fannying around.’
‘Couldn’t agree more.’
When the whiskies arrived, Mavis asked the Intruder men to leave them in private for a few a moments, then she turned to Penny.
‘So what really happened at David’s party, Penny?’
Penny filled Mavis in.
‘Not too bad then,’ said Mavis.
‘No, but the Intruder hack will try to trip them both up with trick questions, and David, bless him, isn’t always a quick thinker.’
‘Then it’s a good job that I know the Intruder journalist in question really well.’
‘Do you? Great! Who is it?’
‘Me.’
Penny burst out laughing. ‘Miss Crewe, I take my hat off to you!’
They clinked their glasses, downed the Scotch in one and went to face the press.
*
Mavis Crewe played a blinder at the press conference. She beguiled the journalists with her wit and charm, while school-marming the actors in front of them. Watching her, Penny couldn’t help but be impressed. Mavis was part Mrs Thatcher, part Helen Mirren, but with a dash of Barbara Windsor thrown in.
The press lapped it up and the photographers got all the snaps they needed for tomorrow’s papers. David and Dahlia had learned their written responses quickly and delivered them with sincerity and self-deprecation. As far as everyone was concerned, the story had run its course. Just a bit of high jinks at a showbiz party, hyped up by a scorned girlfriend, who, shocked and frightened by the press hassle she was receiving at home, had gone away on a long holiday, presumably with the cash she had been paid for her story.
The afternoon’s exclusive interview with Mavis for The Intruder was as open and honest as it needed to be, which meant that David alluded to a brief dabble in drugs at a stressed time of his life, and Dahlia thoroughly enjoyed the glamorous photo shoot which was to accompany it.
Later, Mavis watched the rushes already shot and couldn’t praise Penny and the team enough. ‘It’s exactly as I wrote it. Marvellous.’
That night, everyone slept a lot better, and a positive energy returned to the set.
*
The following day, it was business as usual down in Pendruggan, apart from the odd extra gawker and a couple of freelance paps. Queenie was happy with the extra business and the local constabulary enjoyed the extra patrols they could make through the village.
Two days later, The Intruder hit the newsstands. The front page and the full story inside did everybody proud. A publicity coup if ever there was one.
Mavis was the hero of the hour. She had stayed on, getting to know all the actors and crew, and she was universally worshipped.
The day after publication, she deemed that her work there was done and flew back to her ship, currently in Sydney, to continue her cruise.
43
The final few days of filming flew by. Sven and Gilly were working their socks off. Sven coaxing and encouraging the actors to keep up their energies and attention, Gilly like a sheepdog constantly trying to herd ill-disciplined cats. Gray, who had taken the vintage cars back up to London the day the story broke, missed all the commotion but was back in time to watch Dahlia’s photo shoot. Standing watching her, slithering on satin sheets for one shot, then winding herself round the tall phallic shape of the banister end for another, he couldn’t wait to soothe her frayed nerves the best way he knew how.
Helen was kept a virtual prisoner in her office. Not only was she dealing with the day-to-day admin, she was now the main contact for all the companies who were involved in dismantling the village of St Brewey. Its shops, flowers, trees, furniture, costumes and props all needed to go back to whence they’d come, ready for the next job.
On the penultimate day of filming, Helen and Penny were in the production office packing boxes of stationery when Dahlia came over, trailing Jako and Haz, who were crumpling under the weight of several bags and boxes.
She greeted the two women with her usual extravagant air-kissing.
‘Hello, darlings! Mwah, mwah, I’m clearing out my Winnebago and thought you two might like some of the contents of the glorious gift bags that have arrived.’
She indicated for the two wilting boys to put them on the floor. ‘I can’t take it all back with me. Who wants these St Eval candles? The seasalt and the carnation are amazing.’
‘Our mum would love those!’ Jako and Haz said in unison. Dahlia handed a box to each of them. ‘And, Helen, would your daughter like this voucher for Sea Breeze boutique? It’s for swimwear. Gray tells me she’s off with the surf dudes to the sun.’
‘She’d love it. Thank you, Dahlia.’
‘Well, it’s small recompense for leading me to Gray.’
‘I’ll take the voucher every time!’ said Helen and Dahlia joined in the laughter.
Dahlia kept digging around in the bags and boxes until both Helen and Penny’s desks were covered in expensive pots of face cream, perfumes, thermal underwear, Cornish chocolate, lavender pillows, cashmere socks, an evening watch, sheepskin boots and a RNLI jumper from the Trevay Lifeboatmen.
‘Wow. This is like Christmas. Are you sure you don’t want any of it?’ asked Helen.
‘Well, let’s say I cherry-pick all I want and the rest I like to spread around. I’ve got this for Queenie.’
She held up a signed photograph of Queenie standing outside her shop in between David, Dahlia and Mavis Crewe.
Penny laughed, ‘That’s fab. The old boot will love it.’
‘And,’ Dahlia was deep into the bottom of the last bag, ‘I have this to put it in. Voilà!’
From a thick wadding of bubblewrap, she produced a solid-silver picture frame
. ‘I got it in an antique shop in Lostwithiel. Isn’t it lovely?’
Penny picked up the watch and the sheepskin boots. ‘Would you mind if I gave these to Simon for the summer fête? He’s looking for stuff for the tombola.’
‘Of course. Tell you what, I’ll see what else I can gather up for you over the next couple of days before we finish.’
‘How are things with Gray?’ Helen asked Dahlia.
‘Good. He’s keen and I’m mean, so …’ She looked at Helen astutely. ‘You are OK with it, aren’t you?’
Helen looked back into Dahlia’s beautiful eyes, fully made up for filming. ‘Yes, I really am. I never had him to myself anyway. I think you can handle him beautifully.’
‘You bet your sweet bippy, girl! I am much smarter than he is!’ She laughed and looked at Penny. ‘And you, sweet cheeks – how’s it going with the rev?’
Helen wanted to hear this too. Penny looked slightly uncomfortable under two sets of eyes.
‘Well, it’s early days, but I like him. A lot. He doesn’t take advantage of me. He’s kind, sincere and trustworthy. I’ve told him things I haven’t even told you, Helen! But … I’ll be going back to London at the weekend and so maybe that’s that. I don’t know what is going to happen now.’ Penny looked crestfallen.
Helen and Dahlia didn’t know what to say. They didn’t want to comfort her with false hopes – they knew a long-distance relationship would be really difficult for both of them.
After a small, empty silence, Dahlia changed the subject: ‘And what about you, Helen? I can’t help but notice that young Piran’s delightfully outré vehicle is very often parked outside your love nest.’
‘You are too nosy for your own good, Miss Dahling. Oh dear, look, Gilly is marching this way with a look that says she wants you to get on and do some of what you’re paid for!’
44
The final day of filming arrived. Helen was asked to join everyone who had been involved to come and watch the final scene. It was only a short one: David and Dahlia as Mr Tibbs and Nancy Trumpet, walking out of the South-West Friendly Bank’s front door, strolling down the street to the tea rooms.
The familiar command of orders from Gilly and the crew now sounded poignant to Helen.
‘Final checks, quiet please, action … And cut.’
Helen watched as David and Dahlia waited for their cue and did their stuff a couple of times. Sven had a quiet chat with the cameraman and then he called, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, that is a wrap.’
A huge cheer went up and everybody kissed everybody else, before going back to their Winnebagos and trucks to gather their things and get the hell back to London.
*
Helen and Penny were hosting a small supper that night at Gull’s Cry for Dahlia, Gray, Simon and Piran. Chloe had promised to cook and clean and make it as special as possible.
When Helen finally locked her now empty office and walked back home, she hardly recognised the place.
‘Chloe!’ She put her bags down and stood and stared. ‘It looks wonderful!’
‘Thanks, Mum. Mack and the boys helped.’
They’d taken the kitchen table into the centre of the sitting room and, in the empty fireplace, they’d put a huge lobster pot covered in fairy lights with extra tea lights around it. The small sofa and Helen’s armchair, which usually lived in that room, were now out in the garden, creating an outdoor room on the small paved area by the back door. Mack, Jako, Haz and a happy Tony were busy lighting the chiminea.
They had also laid some rush matting down on the cold stones to add extra luxury. Jam jars of tea lights were dotted on the walls, the flower beds, and in the tree branches.
‘What have I done to deserve you?’ She kissed them all in turn.
‘Mrs Merrifield, Helen, we wanted to give you a small gift for all your kindness and hospitality.’ And with that Mack produced from behind the sofa a battered surfboard.
‘It’s my old one, but it’s caught some great waves.’
Helen couldn’t speak for fear of tears, so she hugged them all again and called for Chloe.
‘Come and see what the lads have got for me.’
Chloe stuck her head round the back door. ‘Great, isn’t it! We thought that maybe, once you’d got a bit more practice in, you would like to come and join us for a couple of weeks in Sri Lanka?’
Now the tears did come. Helen sat on the sofa and cried and laughed in equal measure.
‘I would love to, and I promise not to cramp your style.’
Back inside, the kitchen, so spacious without the table, had paper chains of Cornish pixies looped around the ceiling. On the Aga a big pan of Cornish new potatoes were gently simmering and on the side was a huge salmon, poached by Chloe earlier.
‘I’ve got salad with the salmon and early asparagus for starters. Then for pud a very alcoholic sherry trifle with extra clotted cream.’
‘Darling, it’s amazing.’
The boys came in from the garden. ‘Right, you two, we’re off to the pub. See you later, Cinders.’ Mack leant down and kissed Chloe, who visibly glowed with love.
Helen looked at Tony. ‘Are you going too, Tony?’
‘Going to what, Mrs M.?’
‘To the pub?’
He nodded vigorously. Haz and Jako put their arms round his shoulders. ‘We’ll look after him, Helen. Don’t worry.’
*
Later, Gray loomed in through the front door. He was wearing a turquoise linen shirt and well-cut navy linen trousers. A combo guaranteed to enhance his sparkling blue eyes.
‘Hi, Dad.’ Chloe wiped her hands on her apron and kissed him. ‘On your own?’
‘Yuh, I came ahead of the others to be in the bosom of my family and to see if there’s anything I can do?’
Helen came down from upstairs, looking sensational in a simple black sleeveless shift dress with her auburn curls and freckled cheeks and shoulders shimmering in the candlelight. Gray gave a low whistle.
‘Thank you. I dare you to do that when Dahlia’s here.’
‘I don’t have a death wish.’
Chloe was getting clean glasses from the cupboard. ‘Dad, there’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge. Bring it out to the garden, would you?’
Gray opened the bottle expertly and poured the bubbles into their glasses. Chloe made a toast.
‘To my mum and my dad. I love you both and I am very proud of you both. I can’t lie and say that I am happy you are no longer together, but as long as we can always be like this, on good terms and friendly, Sean and I are OK. To you.’ She raised her glass and drank.
‘Group hug?’ suggested Gray.
‘You bet,’ said Helen.
As they stood locked in an embrace, a voice came from the back door:
‘Can anyone join in?’ Penny arrived with her arm through Simon’s.
‘Hello, darlings!’ Dahlia appeared too. ‘Look who I found loitering with intent.’
Piran stood behind her, looking drop-dead handsome in his oldest jeans and threadbare denim shirt. Little Jack ran in to sniff the food bin. Piran smiled at Helen, his eyes making her tummy, toes and … good Lord … other bits tingle. ‘Hello, Helen.’
‘Piran!’ She went to his side and kissed him quickly. ‘Let’s get you a glass.’
She thought she could feel Gray’s eyes watching her, but when she turned back, he had his arm round Dahlia’s waist and was nibbling her ear.
‘Supper’s ready,’ called Chloe. ‘Sit where you want, as long as it’s next to somebody you like!’
*
Helen sat next to Piran, and Gray nonchalantly placed himself on her other side. Dahlia sat between Gray and Simon, and Penny between Simon and Piran.
The asparagus went down very well, Dahlia eating it lasciviously for Gray’s benefit. As soon as the salmon was served and Chloe had returned to the kitchen, Gray started.
‘So, Piran. What do you actually do? Do you have a proper job?’
All eyes turned to Pir
an, who gave Gray a small smile laced with a touch of menace.
‘I’m a doctor of archaeology and Celtic history. You?’
Gray set his jaw and shoulders. ‘I’m in the classic car trade.’
‘Ideal.’ Piran placed a forkful of salmon in his mouth. Helen and Penny exchanged glances.
Gray again: ‘So you dig up old bits of bone, do you?’
Piran swallowed and picked up his wine glass. ‘Yep. And you pick up old bits of metal.’
Gray tensed, but Dahlia intervened, ‘Tell us more about your work, Piran.’
‘Well, I’ve just finished a big project in the graveyard here. Some of the graves date back to the seventeenth century and are pretty dilapidated. We’re going to repair and restore as many as we can, but some, unidentified, we have to refer to the coroner in order to get them exhumed and re-sited out of the way. It’s quite a lot of detective work.’
‘He’s really an expert in this, aren’t you, Piran?’ Simon confirmed.
Piran shrugged his shoulders.
‘So how did you meet my ex-wife?’ Gray topping up his red wine, seemed to be winding up for a confrontation.
‘It’s a long story,’ said Piran, smiling at Helen.
‘But you made short work of getting your feet under the table?’ Gray wouldn’t stop.
‘Gray, if you have something to say, come right out and say it.’ Piran’s voice had a rumble of danger in it.
‘That’s quite enough, boys, thank you.’ Dahlia’s voice had just the right amount of schoolteacher in it. ‘Now, Gray darling, pass me the wine, would you?’
The table relaxed a little. The moment passed and the evening was back on safer ground, Dahlia regaling them with filthy jokes and slanderous gossip. While the others laughed and chatted, Simon and Penny sat quietly next to each other, holding hands under the table with desperation in their eyes.
*
When it was time for coffee, they all went and sat in the garden, the background noises of Chloe clearing away punctuating the still evening.
Stretching her legs towards the chiminea, Dahlia spoke first, ‘Well, old man,’ she patted Gray’s knee affectionately, ‘I’d better get you back to the hotel. What time do you want to leave for London tomorrow?’