by Fiona Walker
Watching Niall’s shoulders slump lower and lower as he talked to Bob, she had a terrible foreboding that she might even be being a bit optimistic.
‘I’m finished,’ he said bleakly when he put down the receiver almost an hour later. ‘Bob reckons Cheers! will sue Sleeping Partners if they don’t get their photographs – they’ve already invested heavily in the film on the promise of them. If that happens, the film company will almost certainly sue me blind. He’s just looked at my contract and it’s as watertight as a depth probe. Even waiving my fee for the film wouldn’t release me from it.’
‘You mean you can’t buy yourself out of the contract?’ Tash asked in horror.
He shook his head. ‘Not at this late stage. Bob says I’ll have to buy myself out of the whole promotional deal, which is worth far, far more money to Sleeping Partners in potential box office returns than the amount they’re paying me to act in the film.’
‘How much?’ Tash asked nervously.
‘That’s a piece of string question, so it is.’ He flopped down beside her, utterly defeated. ‘I’d call up Lisette right now and try to thrash something out but, when I suggested that, Bob blew his lid faster than a faulty pressure cooker. He pointed out that she has me over a barrel financially – a double-barrelled shotgun wedding, in fact. I’ve got about as much room for negotiation as an estate agent in a prison cell.’
‘But she chased you!’ Tash pointed out. ‘You only agreed to take the part in the first place because I said I liked the script so much, and David Wheaton had agreed to direct it. She needs you.’
‘That’s exactly my point,’ he sighed. ‘My role has a lot to do with the film’s commerciality.’ He leaned back as Beetroot snarled her way past his legs to settle at Tash’s feet. ‘I didn’t just get the part because I was the best actor for the job, Tash. I got it to sell the film to America.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Lisette cast me because my media following out there means I’ll get bums on seats,’ he explained. ‘And she got Cheers! in when she found out you and I were getting hitched because she knew those seats would develop superglue as a result. It could make all the difference once the magazine’s photographs are syndicated to magazines and tabloids in the States. I’m the best known of her cast out there by far, and the American movie-theatre audience latch on to publicity like this in a big way. It’s not just the Cheers! deal that counts. It’s the knock-on effect – three Cheers! for the Bride and Groom, and so on ad infinitum. This is Lisette’s company’s first feature film. She’s sweated blood for three years to get this far, and if I blow it for her by deciding to pull out of a key promotional arrangement a day before shooting starts, she’ll have no choice but to sue.’
‘Can you really not afford to buy your way out?’ Tash asked without much hope.
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, angel. You know how terrible I am with money – I’ve just given the Inland Revenue my last thirty grand, and I owe them thirty more in July. I can’t afford to pay off my credit card bills at the moment, let alone this. If Sleeping Partners sue me and win, I’ll probably have to declare myself bankrupt. That means my passport stays in this country and so do I. Bye-bye America. My career will be washed up for a few years at least.’
‘Oh, Niall.’ Tash put her arms around him. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Jesus, I wish I’d never signed the damned thing!’ He clenched his eyes shut. ‘But it seemed so unimportant – a last-minute deal to bump up my price, and a free wedding photographer to boot. I even laughed when Bob insisted on including an opt-out clause in case the wedding was cancelled. It simply didn’t occur to me at the time that we’d change our minds about getting married.’
Tash bit her lip guiltily, and then, realising what he was saying, her heart skipped a beat of hope. ‘But surely if there’s an opt-out clause, that means we’re okay?’
‘There was a deadline attached,’ he sighed, taking her hand in his. ‘It expired a fortnight ago. If we call off the wedding now, Bob says I’m contractually obliged to cover any losses Sleeping Partners incur as a result of lost publicity. That could be hundreds and hundreds of thousands if they take me to court over this – perhaps more. Like I say, one daft little publicity clause could bankrupt me.’
‘Talk about making a contract killing.’ Tash closed her eyes. ‘It’s almost as though Lisette planned it.’
‘I honestly don’t think she did, angel.’ He cupped her face in his hands, dark eyes tortured. ‘That’s the terrible thing. I think she meant this to be an added extra which helped us both on our way. There’s a saying in the film industry – “making a marriage”. It means a producer getting guaranteed backing for a script. If we don’t get married, she stands to lose a lot of her publicity as well as backing, and there’s no way she’d have deliberately planned that. When she finds out the wedding’s off, she’ll be as devastated as anybody. This film is her baby – she’ll panic if she thinks I’m pulling out of the Cheers! deal. Which is why we must keep it from her until we can sort this thing out.’
‘Or you’ll be in court publicising the film a different way,’ Tash groaned, realising just how compromised his position was. ‘So what does Bob think we should do?’
‘He had two suggestions.’ He released her face and started to chew his thumb-nail uncomfortably. ‘The first was that we keep quiet about this until I somehow raise the money to pay off Sleeping Partners.’
Tash rolled her eyes. ‘And the second?’
Niall’s tragi-comic face twisted into a sad clown’s smile. ‘That the wedding should go ahead as planned.’
‘It can’t!’ she gasped.
‘He came up with some demented idea about going through with it until the last possible moment,’ Niall laughed, shaking his head. ‘He thinks we should stage some crazy theatricals at the altar with you refusing to say “I do” and running out halfway through the ceremony while Cheers! photographs the lot. He figures that way, Sleeping Partners would get better publicity than they could have dreamed of and the contract would be honoured and obeyed even if I’m not. I’ve always said he had a criminal mind. He says it could be our pretend-nuptial agreement.’
Tash gazed at him in absolute horror. ‘We can’t do that, Niall. I simply couldn’t do it to my family for one thing.’
‘I know, angel, I know. And I’d never ask you to.’ He pressed his hand to her cheek. ‘I told Bob they could sue me to hell and back before I’d do that to you.’
‘What did he say?’
Niall grinned. ‘That in that case, he’ll sue me too.’
Tash buried her face in her hands. ‘There must be another way out of this,’ she groaned. ‘I can’t stand by and watch you being dragged through the courts because my potty grandmother mistook a cracker ring for an engagement one. It was my bloody family that got us into this mess in the first place. We should never have gone along with it.’
‘We’ll think of something.’ He hugged her tightly. ‘We just have to brazen this out until we do.’ He got up to open another bottle of wine.
‘But for how long?’ Tash went pale. ‘The wedding’s in less than three weeks.’
‘I’ll just have to figure out a way of coming up with the money,’ he sighed, searching for the corkscrew. ‘Bob’s working on it – I read for a couple of screen tests when I was publicising Celt in Los Angeles last week which he’s going to chase, but it means keeping things monastically quiet at this end for at least a few days. You know how litigation-phobic the Americans are. One sniff of a law suit against me at the moment and the Hollywood casting couch will turn into a bed of nails. If nothing comes up soon, I’ll just have to come clean to Lisette and take the consequences. Like I say, I won’t let you go through with this thing just to save the shirt off my back. You’re worth more than that.’ He settled beside her again, ignoring Beetroot’s snarling protests.
‘Oh, Niall, I’m so desperately sorry.’ Tash pressed her forehead to his. ‘I just wish I cou
ld help, but the only way I could lay my hands on any cash at the moment is to win Badminton next week. And even if by some fluke I did, that wouldn’t be nearly enough.’
‘Brilliant!’ Niall whooped, his face suddenly alive with smiles, as though she’d solved it.
‘Oh, Niall, I haven’t a hope.’ Tash laughed, despite herself. ‘I think Bob’s idea is more likely to work than that, to be honest.’
‘We’ll see.’ He kissed her on the nose and splashed out the wine into their glasses. He’d already drunk most of the first bottle himself, she noticed worriedly. ‘I think you might just have given me an idea.’
‘Yes?’ Tash brightened. ‘What?’
‘Give me until tomorrow.’ He took a great gulp, giving himself a dark red moustache. ‘I’ve got to test the ground first and I’m not sure you’ll want to agree to it.’
‘Agree to what?’ she asked uneasily.
But he just kissed her on the nose again and reached for his script. ‘Don’t tell a soul what’s happening until then – least of all your mother.’
Alexandra called from France just as Tash was clambering into the bath to soak away her saddle sores. Dripping water everywhere, she stood in the bedroom with Beetroot frantically trying to lick her legs dry, listening as her mother launched excitedly into a description of the bridesmaids’ dresses which were now complete. ‘And, I’ve been in touch with Niall’s mother, darling – extraordinary woman, kept calling me “child” as though I was ten,’ she breathed. ‘She says that she’s coming over to England to stay with some relative in Liverpool this week, and then Niall’s father is joining her just before the big day. She seems to think that Hugo is putting them up, which is odd as I’m sure he said nothing of the kind when we chatted last week. He refused point blank to put anyone up, in fact; said he was too ashamed of his interior decor right now. Honestly, he’s such a dry chap – I was falling around laughing for hours afterwards, which rather pissed darling Pascal off as his brother had just had a minor heart attack that night.
‘And have you made a definite decision about whether we go for rose buttonholes, or naff-but-trad carnations? Henrietta has to know by next Monday. And she says she’s persuaded James and the girls to go to Badminton and support you this year. Won’t that be super?’
Thirty
* * *
FROM WEDNESDAY, THE EFFECT of the filming on Hugo’s house and the surrounding villages was enormous. A cool, slow-release summer was rudely interrupted by the sounds of cars and lorries roaring past first thing in the morning, the cordoning off of roads as shooting took place, and the boisterous presence of the cast and crew in the Olive Branch, which had been designated the ‘shoot pub’ to Ange’s delight.
Hugo, who had been assured that the filming would take place with the minimum of interruption to the running of his yard, was furious as he was prevented from entering certain rooms of his house, made to walk the long way around the garden to get to the yard, and told to keep his dogs under lock and key after they had bounded in front of the camera during an intimate scene between two of the leads. Hugo had even been booted out of his own bedroom to the attic rooms to accommodate Niall’s multiple love-scenes.
The film company had wanted to move him out of the house completely at first, offering to pay for his stay in the Marlbury hotel where the cast and crew were staying, but he had refused point blank.
‘I’d rather move in with one of the grooms – I can’t come into work like other people each morning. Horses aren’t like an office desk.’
To add to his annoyance, Niall was playing the charming, good-for-nothing owner of the house and spent all day being filmed pacing around Hugo’s rooms in baggy guernseys and old jeans, seducing ravishing women. The previous day he’d had his hair cut suspiciously like Hugo’s too – militarily short around the ears and nape and longer and floppier on top. Not liking the way Niall had taken to talking in a throaty, upper-class drawl, Hugo thought murderously about investing in a crew cut and putting on a Berkshire accent.
‘He’s bloody aping me,’ he fumed.
‘Well, he is supposed to own the place in the film,’ Lisette explained.
‘I’ve just heard they’re going to be filming him shagging in my bloody bed all next week.’
‘You should be flattered.’ She smiled nastily. ‘It’s more than you’ve been doing in it lately.’
To compound Hugo’s fury, he found that he couldn’t drive the horse-box out of his own yard that afternoon because the entrance was blocked by a huge pantechnicon from which various film heavies were unloading vast, spider-like lighting rigs. He was due to take Bodybuilder to use the all-weather gallops of a racing trainer mate in Lambourne and was already running late.
‘Can you shift that?’ he yelled at one of the heavies.
‘Half an hour.’ The man shrugged, not looking up from his copy of the Sun.
‘Now!’ Hugo barked.
But the heavy ignored him.
Pacing around by the box as he waited for the men to finish, Hugo noticed Sally French wandering past towards one of his paddocks which was being used as a caravan park for all the cast, costume and make-up trailers. He hardly recognised her at first, she had glammed up so much. Dressed in an overtly fashionable pair of velvet hipster trousers and nipple-hugging t-shirt, her hair scraped back with wraparound sunglasses, she looked like any number of the trendy young babes who had been floating around his house all week clutching a clip-board and trying to look important. But her face was tired and drawn beneath its thick layer of make-up, and she looked as though she was more used to clutching at straws lately than clip-boards. Wondering if she was all right, Hugo was about to call hello when he saw her stop to talk to his copycat, Niall.
Not wanting to get embroiled with the naked ape-artiste, Hugo leaned back against the box and lit a cigarette, glancing irritably at his watch. If the heavies didn’t get a push on, he was going to miss his trainer mate entirely, and he badly needed to ask his advice.
Suddenly, he heard Niall’s melting Irish voice mention a familiar name. And it was the last one Hugo would have expected. As far as he recalled, it was a name Niall seldom even remembered.
‘But I thought she was keen to lease him for a year?’ Niall was saying. ‘You said she wanted the publicity?’
‘I’m sorry, Niall.’ Sally sounded incredibly tired. ‘It was some silly idea of mine. I don’t think Lisette ever took it seriously, to be honest. She certainly wouldn’t be interested in substituting it for the Cheers! coverage.’
‘It’s just that Tash’s family aren’t too keen on being photographed for the magazine,’ said Niall. ‘You know how snobbish her old pa can be now.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘And he is footing half the bill for the wedding,’ Niall went on, sounding strangely desperate.
‘But you agreed to this months ago, Niall. It’s all arranged.’
‘I know, I know. It’s just that you’d mentioned this idea about running Snob at Badminton under the film’s title and we thought Lisette—’
‘I doubt she’d even consider it.’ Sally’s voice was flat and listless. ‘She’s terribly keen on this wedding feature. She even told me to pass on some message about a photographer coming to see you today, actually. God, what was it again? I don’t think it was very important. Do you want me to ask her to meet up with you later to discuss it, then you can tell her about this idea yourself? I’ve left her diary in the house somewhere.’
‘No, no, I’m sure I can persuade Tash’s family to agree,’ Niall said hastily. ‘I just thought this sponsorship idea might be an alternative, that’s all.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sally sighed. ‘Like I say, I think Lisette only let me moot the idea to keep me occupied. But there was one good thing to come out of it, you’ll be pleased to know.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Niall sounded extremely distracted.
‘She told me she was going to sign her share of Snob over to Tash when you two get married,�
� Sally said more cheerfully. ‘As her wedding present.’
‘You what?’ Niall seemed appalled at the prospect.
‘She’s arranged it with her solicitor,’ Sally told him. ‘Her share in Snob becomes Tash’s property when you two get married. It’s all legal and above board. The moment you two are hitched, she’ll have no claim on him. I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘Sure, sure,’ Niall was croaking now. ‘I’m delighted, angel, honest to God I am. In that case, I’ll definitely persuade Tash’s pa to go through with the Cheers! thing. Do me a favour, Sals, and forget I ever told you he wasn’t keen, huh? I don’t want to upset Lisette. Especially not as she’s doing this for Tash.’
‘Sure,’ Sally said vaguely. ‘Listen, I must go, only I said I’d take these sandwiches to the costume lorry hours ago and you know how bitchy they are. I’ll be fired if I don’t get a move on.’
Hugo ground his cigarette out on the gravel and watched as Niall wandered past in the direction of the house, far too absorbed in thought to spot him standing just yards away. He looked absolutely haggard, as though he’d just been told of a fatality, not received the news of a wedding present to die for.
Hugo walked around the lorry to bawl out the heavies once and for all. He was amazed by what he’d just heard: he didn’t know what to make of it at all.
The Next Directory lay open on the Lime Tree Farm kitchen table, surrounded by the debris of lunch, so that it crunched breadcrumbs every time a hand reached out to smooth a page. Several of the lingerie pages had already been ripped out to adorn Rufus’s bedroom walls, and a corrugated coffee ring indented a pale green silk suit which would be perfect for a bright June wedding spent swigging champagne and nibbling on salmon parcels in a cool marquee.
‘Do you think green’s very ageing?’
With less than three weeks to go, even Penny Moncrieff had started debating whether to buy a new outfit for the day.
In response, Zoe said nothing. In fact, Penny noted, she had gone particularly quiet lately, especially when the conversation turned to Tash’s and Niall’s wedding. There was something strange in her behaviour that Penny couldn’t quite figure out. If she wasn’t absolutely certain that all was quiet on the man front, she would have sworn that Zoe was infatuated with a new lover. She was wildly distracted at the moment, always sloping off to be alone, getting unexpectedly agitated when there was a crisis and forgetting to cook meals or post letters. All this was totally out of character.