by Fern Britton
‘Several.’
She punched him playfully and he put a strong arm round her shoulder. ‘Never. I couldn’t lose you. You’re everything to me.’
At the departures gate he kissed her deeply for several moments. A couple of people took photos and one academic-looking woman in her fifties walked by and murmured to Jess, ‘Kissed by Venini – lucky you!’
*
Back at the car park ticket machine, Jess, preoccupied with thoughts of Ryan and her new job, barely noticed the young man who had managed to drop a handful of change on the floor and was chasing after a runaway one-pound coin. It stopped at the toe of her boot. The young man bent to pick it up. He looked familiar. She smiled at him … He smiled back. ‘I’ve just seen my girlfriend off to New York. She gave me all these coins to lighten her purse. But I still don’t think I’ve got enough.’ She smiled at him and held out her hand. ‘Count them into here.’
It took a few minutes, but eventually he managed to feed the correct money into the machine and took out his ticket in triumph.
‘Thanks for your help.’ He hesitated a moment then said. ‘You’re Jess Tate, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, I am,’ she replied, frowning. ‘I feel I know you too.’
‘Ollie Pinkerton.’
‘Of course! You’ve just finished a great season at the RSC, haven’t you?’
‘Well, you know … it was fun, but I’m one of the unemployed at the moment.’
‘Your girlfriend is Red, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah. She’s off to play Madison Square Gardens.’
‘And you’re not going with her?’
‘Can’t afford it.’
‘Oh.’ Jess didn’t know what else to say. ‘Really nice to meet you, Ollie – good luck with everything.’
‘Thanks. And good luck with your new show!’
As Ollie walked away to his car he thought how attractive Jess was, for an older woman.
And as Jess fed the ticket machine with an inordinate number of pound coins she couldn’t help thinking how charming Ollie was … for a boy of his age.
*
As soon as filming got under way, Jess knew that Horse Laugh was something special. The script, the cast, the crew – everything gelled. She couldn’t put her finger on anything specific. Maybe the stars were aligned in a portentous way, or the angels had decreed the production to be blessed, or maybe it was just good old-fashioned talent and hard work. The star of the piece, a young woman who’d come from a small but meaty role in Coronation Street, was super good and without any discernible ego. She and Jess got on famously and their scenes were so funny and so moving that the writer made more of their relationship and added new scenes. It was clear that Jess was not just a supporting actress, she was the show’s co-star.
Ethel and Elsie were in their element. They had their own bed in Jess’s Winnebago and enjoyed warming up in there when the weather got too cold. Filming in November, in Suffolk, was a chilly affair. The main location was a stables on the coast near Dunwich, and Elsie and Ethel strutted their stuff like two short-legged queen bees round the yard and through the horses’ legs. The horses were all local, apart from three stunt horses who were rather beautiful and exceptionally well behaved. Two, Kinkaid and Columbine, had been in Downton, the third, Delia, had been in War Horse. All the horses loved Ethel and Elsie, but the two dachshunds loved Delia best. She would bend down and tickle their ears with her moustache. They never failed to roll on their backs for more.
At the start, Jess and Ryan would skype and Elsie and Ethel would woof in recognition of Ryan’s voice, but the time difference became a bore for them both. LA was eight hours behind and it was difficult to synchronise the best moment to call. Most days they emailed each other instead. Jess would send an account of her day just before she went to bed and Ryan would read it as he got up. By the time Jess woke up there was always an answer waiting for her. However, as time went on, the less either of them had to say to each other. Ryan was doing the rounds of meeting producers for castings, and two or three times a week had to go to some film studio reception, or a premiere, or a dinner. Jess was tired of hearing about it. Her world had shrunk to the size of a filming day and the unit around her. As for Ryan, he knew how close a film unit got and how intensely Jess was working, so he let the emails drift to four then three times a week. Jess hardly noticed.
She filmed solidly through November and the schedule had her working right through December too. Over Christmas the set would only close for a few days. Ryan invited Jess to spend the holidays with him – a promise of an audition for a huge role in the newest Bond film meant he couldn’t fly to the UK – but Jess was too tired to fly there and back and mess up her body clock with jet lag.
‘Would you mind very much if I didn’t come over?’ She was lying in bed with a face pack on and conditioner soaking into her hair.
‘Yes I mind, but I understand, babe.’
‘Thanks, darling. How’s it gone today?’
Ryan began a long story about an actor he’d met who he’d known years ago in rep.
Jess felt her eyelids drooping and allowed them to fall while she listened to him. The script for tomorrow was lying next to her. She had a great comedy scene to play and she really needed to learn it. Ryan’s voice carried on in her ear and she hoped she was making the responses he required.
The bed was so soft, the pillow so right. She hadn’t felt this comfortable for years.
‘Jess! Are you asleep?’
She jolted awake. ‘No. Carry on. Are you going to see him again?’
‘Who?’
She struggled to gather her fragmented memory. ‘Your friend. The one in rep.’
‘You were asleep.’
‘No. Well. Maybe. I’m just a bit relaxed.’
‘Have you decided where you’re spending Christmas? Going back to the flat or staying in Suffolk?’
She yawned. ‘Too exhausting to go back to London. I’m going to stay here. The crew are putting on a Christmas lunch and then I shall just sleep and sleep.’
‘OK, baby. I miss you. Speak tomorrow?’
‘Mmm. Love you. Night night.’
They shot the last scene in mid January and at the wrap party everyone hoped that they’d be back for a second series.
Jess, Ethel and Elsie went back to London and real life. As she let herself and Ethel and Elsie in through the front door a dark shape stepped out from the kitchen.
‘Welcome home!’
She nearly jumped out of her skin before jumping into the arms of a waiting Ryan.
‘What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be back for another week!’ She hugged him hard.
‘I didn’t want you coming home to an empty apartment.’
‘I love you, Ryan Hearst.’ She hugged him again.
‘I love you, baby. Let me look at you.’ He held her away from him and took in her slender frame and dark circled eyes. ‘You need fattening up.’
‘I need a cup of tea.’
*
‘Gosh, you really have missed me!’ panted Jess as Ryan eased himself off her and flopped onto the pillows.
‘And it seems you’ve missed me too,’ he chuckled.
She snuggled closer to him and stroked her fingers lightly over his tanned and muscled stomach. ‘How amazing life is. Who’d have thought, even two years ago, that you and I would be working like this. Thank you for understanding about me not coming over for Christmas and New Year.’
‘You’ve done it for me,’ he said sleepily. ‘You let me go and make Venini and then head out to Hollywood.’
‘It’s not about letting you. It’s about supporting you.’
‘And trusting me.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘As I trust you.’
She laughed wryly. ‘Blimey. Nothing to worry about where I’m concerned.’
‘I know, darling, I know.’ He kissed the top of her head then rolled over to catch up with his jet lag.
*
Ryan was home for four weeks before filming started for the new series of Venini. He’d be away for almost all of the next six or seven months. Locations included San Francisco, New York, Boston and St Louis. So during his stay in London he spoiled Jess daily. If it wasn’t the cinema or theatre it was cooking her favourite food and making love to her afterwards.
One Wednesday morning he pulled her suitcase out of the spare room and told her to pack for a long weekend in the country. ‘Really? Where are we going?’
‘Magical mystery tour.’
‘When?’
‘As soon as you’re packed.’
‘What about Elsie and Ethel?’
‘They can come too. Stop asking questions.’ He opened her wardrobe doors. ‘Get packing, woman.’
As Jess bumped her case down the steps of their building and on to the pavement, her eye was caught by a young man in a smart suit getting out of a navy-blue Porsche. Both driver and car were jaw droppers.
‘Morning,’ he said in Jess’s direction. She looked around her and saw only Ryan, locking the front door. He turned when he heard the young man’s voice and replied, ‘Morning. Sorry to keep you waiting. My girlfriend didn’t have much notice to pack her case. She’s done pretty well, considering.’
The young man walked forward and took Jess’s case. ‘I’ll pop that in for you.’
Jess looked at Ryan. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘I know it’s an extravagance. Don’t be cross with me. I just thought we deserved a little toy.’
‘You’ve hired this car?’
‘Ah, no. I bought it.’
Jess was thrilled. Ryan had always said a car in London was a waste of money, so they’d had to rely on the bus or the tube, or cabs when they could afford it. Since Venini had taken off in a big way, the production company always sent a limo to ferry him around.
‘Ryan!’ She walked around the gleaming blue beast. ‘It’s gorgeous!’
‘Hop in then, babe. Ethel and Elsie have just about enough room on the back seat.’
Jess sank into the luxury of the leather and inhaled deeply of the unmistakable smell of New Car.
*
They arrived at a small boutique hotel settled on the banks of Lake Windermere. A tall and charming porter in his sixties emerged from the well-lit entrance hall and into the gloom of the car park to help them with their bags.
‘Good evening, sir, madam. Welcome to Heron’s Pool.’
He checked them in and showed them to their room, which was furnished in traditional English style. Cosy, unpretentious and softly lit.
‘It’s a bit dark now, madam, but in the morning you’ll be able to enjoy the glorious view over the lake.’
He then pointed out the minibar, kettle, wifi and satellite television. As he was leaving, he asked, ‘Will you be dining with us, sir? Chef has kept a table for you.’
‘Actually, I’m starving. Yes please.’
They agreed on a reservation for eight o’clock, leaving them time to walk the girls and get changed.
The dining room was candlelit and the food delicious.
‘Why are you spoiling me so much, Ryan?’
‘You deserve it, darling.’
‘Not a guilty conscience?’ she asked playfully.
‘Damn! Am I that obvious!’ They laughed at this small but significant joke. ‘How about a nightcap?’
They took their brandies into the snug and sat together on the deep velvet sofa watching the flames of the open fire licking the red-hot embers.
‘All this luxurious living is very tiring.’ She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
‘You go up and I’ll follow in a minute.’
‘OK. Give the girls a last wee, would you?’
*
They slept late and ordered a huge room-service breakfast, then went back to bed and made love languidly. Eventually, Elsie and Ethel could keep their legs crossed no longer and Ryan took them out for a stroll while Jess lay in a hot and bubbly bath. It was almost lunchtime by the time they decided they really should get out into the fresh air. A short walk from their hotel, a smart little cruiser bobbed on its pier embarking passengers for a lake cruise.
‘Shall we?’ Ryan comically raised his eyebrows in a caddish way and offered his arm.
She took it and answered, ‘Ooh, sir, I ain’t never bin on a boat before. Supposing I feel giddy?’
‘Don’t worry. I shan’t let go of you.’ He grabbed her waist (noting how very slender it had become of late) and pulled her to him sharply. ‘You’re a demmed attractive gal, Letitia.’
They heard the motor of a camera whirr as it took a shot of them larking around.
A woman in her forties, with a very Welsh accent, said loudly to anyone who would listen: ‘I knew it was ’im. That bloke off the telly, see.’ She walked up and stood very close to Ryan, ignoring any boundaries of personal space. ‘It is you, right? What’s your name?’
‘Ryan Hearst.’
‘Tha’s right. Ryan. And this is your girlfriend, is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not the one in the paper then. The one I saw today. She’s very pretty, mind.’
‘What paper?’ asked Jess.
‘The Mirror. I don’t like to read them, but it was there like.’
Ryan was trying to steer Jess away from this frightful woman, but she shook him off.
‘Who was in the photo?’
‘Your fella ’ere. He ’ad ’is arm round ’er.’
Ryan could stand it no longer. In a low voice he told her, ‘I am on a private holiday with my girlfriend and would appreciate it if you would just bugger off. Goodbye.’
Then he turned on his heel sweeping Jess, Ethel and Elsie away as smoothly as possible – not easy when the dogs had woven their leads round and through his legs.
Behind them the ghastly woman was declaring loudly, ‘Well, there’s rude! I was only saying, like.’
Once on board the beautiful little cruiser, Ryan led Jess to a comfortable seat in its bow. Strings of red, white and blue bunting flapped in the wind as the vessel pushed off from the pier and started to putter through the water. Jess had remained ominously quiet throughout.
‘Fancy a cuppa?’ Ryan asked, his voice artificially jolly. ‘I see they have a bar inside.’
‘Who did you have your picture taken with?’
He bent down to pick up the girls and put them on the seat between them. ‘Hm?’
‘You heard.’
‘I don’t know what the bloody woman was talking about. I’ve had to go to thousands of parties and dinners and stuff in the last few months. I can’t remember much about them.’
‘So why has a paper printed a picture of you with your arm around another woman?’
He looked at her, devastated. ‘Darling, please don’t get like this. I don’t know who or what or anything about it.’
‘Have you been seeing someone in America?’
‘No.’
‘Promise me, because …’ Jess bit her lip. Through her sunglasses Ryan could see a tear shining, ready to drop. He put his arm round her and held her tight. ‘Darling, you must believe me: I am not seeing anyone else. I live like a monk in LA. They all laugh at me and think I’m gay.’
He wiped away the tear, which now escaped and was running down her cheek. ‘Darling, there is only you. In fact, this holiday is a way of getting you on your own and asking you a big question. I was hoping to do it this evening, but that fucking Welsh cow has forced my hand.’
He slid off the seat and knelt in front of her. ‘Darling Jess, would you do me the honour of being my wife?’
15
Ollie rang his agent every day asking about work.
His bank balance was spilling into the red and he worried about next month’s rent. Though his agent was a sharp operator, his initial interest in Ollie’s talent seemed to have waned and he’d gone quiet on him. These days it was hard for Ollie to get to speak to him. He was always ‘i
n a meeting’, according to his PA.
On top of all this, Red was being a world-class nightmare. She kept ringing him in the middle of the night, not caring whether she woke him up, to sob down the phone or scream at him or accuse him of being unfaithful, or sometimes to tell him just how great she was and how shit he was. It was doing him no good at all.
He sat on his shabby sofa, the old Spanish shawl that had been his grandmother’s thrown over the back, and made his daily call.
‘Hi, Trinny,’ he said when the receptionist picked up. ‘It’s Ollie. Is Tim around?’
‘Hi, Ollie. Let me check.’ The phone went dead and he imagined Trinny checking to see if his agent wanted to speak to him. He was surprised when Tim came on the line.
‘Ollie – long time. How’s tricks?’
‘Great. Yeah. Doing good.’
‘Great. How’s Red?’
‘Still on the American leg of the tour. Sell out. All good.’
‘Good. Good …’ Tim paused. ‘So, how can I help you today?’
Ollie thought it was obvious, but stayed with the game. ‘I’ve had a great break after Stratford and I’m ready for a new challenge. Batteries all charged. Eager for work.’
‘OK,’ said Tim. ‘What you got in mind?’
Ollie swallowed his frustration and after a tiny beat said, ‘Theatre, telly, voice-overs …’
Ollie could hear Tim sucking his teeth. ‘Right. Right. If anything comes in, I’ll let you know. I’m always working for you, you know that.’
‘Yeah. Sure. Of course.’
Tim said nothing more.
Ollie filled the silence. ‘OK. Well. Cheers.’
Tim had already gone.
*
At the gym that afternoon, Ollie took his aggression and pent-up frustration out on a punch bag and a heavy set of weights. The man he saw in the mirrored wall was not the man he had been. Yes, he could hold his own with the body builders around him and he knew he was pretty good looking, but something in his eyes had died. Red was sapping the life out of him. He wanted to end it with her but wasn’t ready for the emotional onslaught she’d release, or the media frenzy that would surround the announcement. Already the papers were picking up on him not going to the States to see her. The paps followed him constantly, hoping to get a shot of him in the company of another woman. He never obliged. His days were spent at home, in the gym, or at his corner shop grabbing supplies. His friends had stopped asking him out because of the fuss surrounding him. Every week he read in a gossip column that Red was pining for him and that he refused to go to her. Didn’t they understand that he was skint? He couldn’t afford to jet off to America, let alone pay his way once he was there. And he wouldn’t dream of allowing Red to pick up the bill – not that it would ever occur to her to offer. She had no idea when it came to money. Like the Queen, everything was taken care of for her.