New Hope for the Little Cornish Farmhouse

by Nancy Barone

  Luke O’Hara, the most famous and talented actor of the moment, was waiting for me to shake his hand. He was different in person, his familiar blue eyes framed by those lusciously long and dark lashes, the almost red full lips framed by a strong, square jaw – the jaw that made women all over the world swoon.

  I hoped he was wanting the role of my hero. He’d be perfect. He could convince anyone he was just a regular guy caught in the bod of a Hollywood superstar. And the only actor that could pull that one off was indeed him, the healthy, all-American lad the whole world was in love with. His performances had ranged from those as a violent drug addict, to an English Lord, to Che Guevara, and was even top of the list for being the next Sherlock Holmes. Luke O’Hara was a mixture of both extremes that had you wanting every side of him. And, in the movies, you’d hardly recognise him because he was a real chameleon.

  ‘Hi, nice to meet you,’ was all I managed to say, albeit, I must hand it to myself, looking rather blasé, as if he was just the bloke next door.

  But actually, I’d seen an interview on TV a few months back and knew he was, as they say in Hollywood, The Big Time. From his broad smile and easy-going manner, he looked like a fun fellow.

  ‘Hi, Nina. It’s good to meet you, too. Have a seat.’

  And then as I made to sit down, I slipped and landed in front of the chair, and the next thing I knew he was holding my forearms and guiding me to my seat.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked and, stunned, I nodded.

  ‘Sorry. Didn’t expect to see you. Well, maybe catch a glimpse of you at Hard Rock Café, or maybe on a bus tour going past your home or something.’ So much for my British poise and stiff upper lip.

  He laughed in the voice that made women shiver in delight. ‘You really are funny. See, Ben? I told you she’d be funny.’

  I glanced at Alice who was turning a million different shades and was as emotional as I was. I remembered a crack she’d made once about locking him in her office and having her wicked way with him, and I giggled. All eyes turned to me.

  ‘Sorry. I was just… sorry.’

  Luke smiled warmly. God, could a man really be this beautiful up close? He looked like he didn’t even have any pores. Too handsome to be real, and way better, if even possible, than on screen. He looked thinner. Younger. Sexier. And, because I was sitting right next to him despite Ben’s attempt to offer me a seat next to him, I could literally smell his cologne.

  Okay, cut it out, you must be thinking. No one is that perfect. And you’d be wrong. Physically, he was perfect. Even Calvin Klein underwear had told the world so a few years ago, and judging by the fitted cotton T-shirt he wore and the low-riding jeans, he still was. But what the hell was he doing here? Wasn’t it too early for casting? And then, through the misty fog that was my mind, I got it. He was the other producer. Was he the one ready to walk? Why?

  I tore my eyes from him long enough to glance at Alice who winked at me.

  ‘Nina, something to drink?’ Luke offered, gesturing towards pitchers of various colours in a bid for me to choose. I cleared my throat as delicately as possible. ‘Uh, just water, please.’

  He poured me a glass as all around there was dead silence. I was being observed. What the hell for? I only wrote a book; get on with your jobs, for Christ’s sake. The sound of the water slushing into my glass ended and Luke smiled warmly. What the hell was going on here?

  I swallowed as silently as possible and Luke, who seemed to be chairman of this meeting, searched my face for a sign that I was ready. I gave a slight nod and he sat back.

  ‘I’ll cut to the chase, Nina,’ he said. ‘The movie is in danger.’

  There we go. I knew it. One minute in and it was already a no-go. It had been too good to be true. There went Ben’s operation, the last few years of Northwood School, and of course, the renos to the house. I slumped in my seat. ‘H-how…?’

  ‘As one of the producers, one of my conditions is that I co-write the script with you. It makes sense, don’t you think?’

  Oh God oh God… I’d have to write the script with him? ‘Absolutely,’ I agreed with an emphatic nod.

  He grinned. ‘Good. I’m glad you agree. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And the other conditions?’

  For some reason, he looked at me with what could only be described as pride and I sat taller in my chair. He looked around at all the other faces.

  ‘The other condition is that we see this story from a second point of view.’

  Meaning an omniscient narrator? I didn’t know how much good that would do as it had been written in the first person. My heroine Stella White told the story herself, giving sometimes funny, sometimes sad insights. ‘Could you be more specific?’

  Luke got up and began pacing the room, all eyes on him, and you could tell he was used to the attention.

  ‘Well, you usually see chick flicks from the female point of view, right?’

  Duh. ‘Ye-es?’

  ‘Which results in women empathising with women.’

  That was the whole idea. Women reading women’s stories and identifying themselves in them. It was called female solidarity. I was too polite to say, And your point is?

  He studied my face. ‘What if we show how Bill had a hard time, too? What if we show how the man is not always the bad guy?’

  Uh-oh. Red Phil alert. How did I get out of this one? ‘But he is.’ I didn’t want to come across as a misanthropist, but I wasn’t doing a very good job at it for the moment. I coughed. ‘At least in my case.’

  His eyes widened.

  ‘I mean, my heroine’s case.’

  He dipped his head. ‘Yeah, but hear me out a minute.’

  I was a guest in a producer’s office on the top floor of a skyscraper in LA, being titillated by a golden carrot. The option was going home empty-handed. Did I have a choice?

  ‘There are as many men out there as women who have been devastated by divorce. As you just agreed, men are not always the bad guys.’

  I leaned forward in my chair. ‘What exactly are you saying? That Stella is to blame for the break-up?’

  He dipped his head cautiously. ‘Not solely. It’s my firm belief that there are always two in a marriage, and two in a divorce.’

  ‘Unless there’s a third person,’ I interjected.

  ‘But this wasn’t Stella’s case, was it?’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘Their problem was Bill’s drinking, right?’

  And Phil-andering. And gambling. ‘Well, yes…’

  ‘So I’d like to analyse their story from both points of view and see what drove him to drink.’

  ‘Uh, his weakness?’

  He grinned. ‘Of course, but we all know that a good wife makes a good husband and—’

  I cleared my throat, shaking my head. ‘And you want people to think it was Stella’s fault? Absolutely not.’

  I could almost hear Alice’s sharp intake of breath. I didn’t get it. Did she want me to side with him? Then why let me meet up with Ben Stein? To keep them both happy, I guessed. What a true poker player she was. She wasn’t asking for ten per cent for nothing. But I wished she’d just sat me down and told me like it was. She wanted me to bag a contract, I understood that much, and she didn’t care what compromises I had to make. Just as long as the dosh flowed. But what about my story, the true essence of it?

  The cad stopped and ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.’

  ‘I take it you’re not married, Mr O’Hara?’

  He blinked. ‘Divorced.’

  ‘Ah. Bad break-up?’

  He shrugged and grinned. ‘Aren’t they all?’

  I shrugged back. ‘Perhaps. But some are worse than others. And Stella’s was one of them.’

  ‘We could all say that, Nina.’

  ‘Oh, yes, definitely. But how many of us wouldn’t be biased?’

  ‘This could be the first movie that honestly respects both points of view.
It could be ground-breaking in that way.’

  Highly unlikely. But in any case, why did it have to be my movie that had to be the forerunner of this new – and risky – trend? Why couldn’t I tell my story as it was, for Christ’s sake?

  ‘But I didn’t write it to express or respect his point of view. I wrote it to express my own.’

  He crossed his arms. ‘Your point?’

  ‘Simply that this is a story written by a woman for women. If you want to defend your gender from all sorts of accusations, go write your own sob story.’

  Again, his eyes widened and I mentally slapped myself. Had I just said that to a Hollywood big gun who was offering me a chance to change my family’s life around completely? Good God, was there no end to my stupidity? Or my instinctiveness? I had better learn to turn my brain on before I spoke, or it would be the death of me.

  He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Ben, I love this lady!’

  For the first time, Ben spoke up. ‘So do I. But you’re going to ruin her story if you even try something so stupid. Take it from me, Luke. What you’re trying to do is just not done. You’re mixing two totally different genres that don’t go together. Like…’ Ben turned to me. ‘What is it they say in England?’

  ‘Chalk and cheese.’ Two incompatible things. A bit like my Sicilian rice-balls in Cornish restaurants. Phil had pooh-poohed it from the start. Only he’d been wrong.

  ‘Ben – you need to take a risk every now and then,’ Luke said.

  Ben Stein reddened. ‘With all due respect, Luke, you can take a risk with John Grisham or Tom Clancy, but we’re talking here about a mid-lister no one’s ever heard of before…’

  Mid-lister? I sat up. ‘Actually, all three books were Sunday Times bestsellers.’ I glanced at Alice who widened her eyes and slightly shook her head. I got the message.

  ‘Ah, mid-lister she may be, but she’s a total laugh-lab!’ Luke said.

  Was he not listening to me? Laugh-lab? I whipped my head around, caught in the crossfire. Both were slagging me off for different reasons and Alice was doing absolutely nothing to cover my back. All she wanted was to see whose court the ball landed in.

  Luke gestured towards me. ‘Believe me, she can pull off comedy like no one. Just look at her. Look at that face.’

  Unbelievable. He had me flown all this way just to have a laugh? How could someone who looked so fantastic be a complete monster? He was supposed to be every woman’s dream. Every woman’s minus this one.

  I knew it had been too good to be true. How dare they drag me all the way across the Atlantic just to humiliate me? I’d put my heart into that novel – three years of my own personal hell of Should I stay or should I go, during which even throwing myself off Gwennap Head seemed like a better alternative than living like that, and I wasn’t about to let them laugh at me. This was my life I’d poured out, my feelings, my kids’ feelings and their expectations too.

  I’d had enough of my ex-husband taking advantage of me all these years, trying to demean me and attacking my dignity. I rose to my feet. ‘Excuse me,’ I muttered and headed for the door.

  ‘Nina?’ Luke said.

  I shot him a glance and shook my head, my eyes burning with unshed tears, and closed the door behind me.

  9

  The Devil’s Advocate

  I regretted my reaction the moment the door clunked shut behind me, like a vault full of gold bullion, lost to me forever. What the hell was wrong with me? What the hell was I doing, abandoning a conference room full of Hollywood producers who wanted me to co-write a script based on my book? Would I rather go home and watch the rain trickling through my roof? If a little rudeness towards my persona was the price I had to pay for my children, shouldn’t I pay it? After all these years and all these promises to myself that I would make it good for them, and I snubbed it all for the sake of a moment of humiliation?

  I swiped at my cheeks with one hand and banged on the lift button with the other, willing it to open and take me straight back home like in a time machine, when things weren’t going great but at least I didn’t have people actually deriding me so openly and unashamedly.

  How the hell was I going to break it to the kids? And what the hell was Alice thinking? Had she sold her soul to Hollywood already? She knew that we as a family needed this deal like we needed our next breath. For Ben, for Chloe, I had needed to see this through. And I realised that, if I went back in there and apologised, this would only be the beginning of a series of compromises. But I hadn’t flown all the way over here just to go back to Cornwall empty-handed. What had I been thinking? Was my dignity really more important than my children’s lives? No contest. But now, was it too late to go back in there and eat humble pie? Could I just knock on the door? Would they snort? Guffaw? Tell me I’d missed my chance?

  ‘Nina—’ came a voice behind me. Alice.

  ‘You knew all about this and didn’t tell me?’ I hissed. ‘You’re supposed to be my friend. I trusted you.’

  ‘Before you say anything more,’ Alice said, taking my hands in hers, ‘listen to me. Ben Stein doesn’t want you writing the script, but Luke does. Think of the difference it will make if you are hands-on. You will be a scriptwriter, and you will be making connections in Hollywood – isn’t that every writer’s dream?’

  I bit my tongue. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And would you not – in one single second – secure the future of your children in every way?’

  ‘You know I would.’

  ‘Then why do I have to stand here and have this conversation with you when we both agree it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you?’

  ‘Alice, I do know.’

  ‘Well then why are you playing bloody hard to get? You deserve this. It’s your one chance to right all of Phil’s wrongs and show him how strong you have always been. I don’t understand you.’

  I didn’t understand me either. Perhaps I simply wasn’t prepared for such a sudden reversal of fortune. I wasn’t used to having a chance at anything anymore. One minute I had been plastered to my basement floor sobbing my eyes out into the fleece rug so the kids wouldn’t hear me and the next… I was sitting at a conference table with Luke O’Hara in Hollywood. How did that even begin to make sense? I was still trying to cope with that much, let alone a life-changing event like this.

  But Alice was right. Nothing as monumental as this would ever happen to me again.

  ‘Just listen to me and listen good, Nina. I am your friend and I am begging you to not be an idiot and blow it all away.’ She squeezed my shoulder. ‘Are you with me?’

  I sighed. More out of terror than doubt. You might think I didn’t deserve something so great happening to me. And I’d say you were probably right. Maybe that was half the problem. I didn’t believe in myself enough. Luckily, Alice did.

  I dried my eyes and huffed. ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m with you.’

  ‘And you’ll agree to Luke’s terms?’

  ‘Have I got a choice?’

  ‘Sure. You can go home and watch Ben Stein do whatever he wants with your story. And the opening credits will read “An adaptation from the novel by…”, when it could instead read “Screenplay by Nina Conte and Luke O’Hara”. You choose. And besides, Luke wasn’t laughing at you! He was laughing about you. It’s different; can’t you see that? He loves your sense of humour!’

  ‘It’s true, Nina…’ said Luke, closing the conference room door behind him and coming to stand before me, his face contrite.

  But then, that was what actors did very well. Look something they weren’t.

  ‘I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear. What I meant was that you are funny. Refreshingly so…’

  His face was solemn, like a little boy’s, his voice low, just like in the scenes where he apologised to his female lead for being a jerk and gave his heart-felt rendition of sorrow. It was his trademark: his voice failing at the end of each sentence, like it was too hard for him to speak after all the pain he’d caused. It worked like
a charm on screen. In real life, not so much.

  I could’ve said something like: Save your talent for your movies, but it would’ve been too cheesy. Besides, he was right. Look at me. I was a barrel of laughs. For someone else, at least.

  Alice stepped forward. ‘Nina, come on. The man’s got everyone against him because of you. He’s ready to risk a lot of money.’

  Oh, so that was his beef.

  ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘Let’s not go back in there. Let’s go to your hotel and hash it out over lunch, just you and me. Let me talk you through it all.’

  ‘You mean persuade me,’ I corrected him and Alice and Luke grinned at each other as he put his hand on my shoulder in a gesture of close friendship. God, he was so American.

  ‘Great. Now I’m going back in there to tell Ben he’s out on his arse because I don’t need his money. I’m going solo.’

  ‘What?’ Alice almost shrieked. ‘Do you have any idea of how much money this is going to cost you? You can’t do that! You need him on board. What if it tanks?’

  Ah, so not even she was all that optimistic after all. Good to know.

  ‘It won’t. Nina’s book is brilliant.’

  ‘I know it is and you know it is. But you shouldn’t take such risks without the Stein Safety Net. You need Ben. Try to convince him at least!’

  Without turning to look at her, he said, ‘Risks are there to be taken.’

  She shook her head miserably as she understood he was determined. Me, I had no idea what was going to happen, but I as sure as hell was not going home without my contract after all that.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she warned him.

  ‘I know exactly what I’m doing, Alice,’ he promised, still smiling at me. ‘And you, Nina – if I can convince you to have joint custody of the point of view, you’ll get much more than you bargained for.’

  I very much doubted that, but kept my gob shut for once.

  10

  Alice In Wonderland

  You can imagine the state I was in by the time I sat down with him at a restaurant table. On my own, without Alice as my backup – and our foil – I felt totally, completely vulnerable. You think I’d be over the moon lunching with a Hollywood actor. Trouble was, I felt so spaced out by it all. This was truly surreal, discussing my book that was to be turned into a script, writing shoulder to shoulder with a celebrity, for who knew how many months? Not to mention the financial benefits.