The Hopeless Romantic's Handbook

by Gemma Townley

  “Well,” he began with a gulp, “I guess I knew when I first saw her.”

  “He saw me on the show,” Penny put in immediately, “and fell in love with me. Thought I lit up the screen and showed such empathy with the people on the show. He’s from LA, so he can really recognize talent.”

  Miranda frowned and made some notes in her notebook. “And when you met Penny,” she continued. “What did you think then?”

  Joe thought hard. Jesus, it was freezing up here. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore.

  “I guess, well, you know, I just thought ‘wow’,” he said, wracking his brain. “I mean, she’s hot, right? And funny, and intelligent…”

  Good thing I’m such a great actor, he thought as he spoke. If a casting director could just see me now …

  “That’s great, Joe, thank you,” Miranda said enthusiastically. “And you’re an actor, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right, ma’am. I was in the well-known American show Everything I Do. And now, I’m keen to build my career in London, you see. Keen to take advantage of the opportunities on offer …”

  Miranda nodded. “Well, great. Okay, so Penny, did you see Joe on Everywhere I Go? Did Joe light up the screen, too?”

  “Everything I Do,” Joe said quickly. “It’s Everything I Do.”

  “Of course, sorry,” Miranda said. “So, Penny?”

  “I don’t have time to watch television,” Penny said with a loud sigh. “I’m too busy being on it.”

  Miranda looked slightly taken aback. “Right. Um, okay So tell me about the first time you saw Joe. Was it love at first sight?”

  Penny looked at Joe lasciviously. “Lust you mean?” she said, smiling, then obviously thought better of it. “I was deeply attracted to Joe,” she said, suddenly soulful. “And I could see that he wasn’t happy with his girlfriend. That she was holding him back. And when our eyes met, well…”

  Joe looked at her in shock as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that had appeared out of nowhere. Were those real tears?

  “I suppose, I just suddenly felt that life made sense after all. That I’d met my soul mate.”

  Miranda sniffed. “That’s lovely,” she said, shaking her head. “Right, well, perhaps we could reconvene at the hotel—I’d love to hear a bit more about how you met, and about your plans for the future, Penny. And about the show in the U.S., Joe. Everywhere I Go. Was it a travel program?”

  Joe smiled thinly. “Everything I Do,” he said, through gritted teeth. “It’s Everything I Do.”

  “Great!” Miranda said. “So, I’ll leave you two to ski down the slopes—hopefully get some great action shots for the spread—and I’ll see you later for a bit of après-ski!”

  She left, and the photographer reappeared. “Okay, so you just ski as normal down the slopes, yeah? My assistant, Jon, is going to ski after you with a camera and get some shots. Okay?”

  Joe looked at Penny, waiting for her to explain that Joe couldn’t ski, that he had absolutely no idea how to get down what looked like a vertical slope without breaking his neck. But she just smiled. “Last one down has to buy the drinks!” She grinned, putting her boots into her skis and throwing her head back in laughter when she saw Jon begin to click.

  Joe walked awkwardly toward her. He couldn’t believe how uncomfortable these boots were. Now not only could he not ski, he could barely walk.

  “I can’t ski,” he hissed when he was close enough for Penny to hear him without having to alert anyone else.

  “You’ll be fine!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, it’s not that hard, Joe. Look, there are children doing it. Don’t be such a wimp.”

  Joe swallowed. “I’m guessing those children have had maybe a lesson or two,” he said, trying to remain calm, and talking with a smiling face just in case Jon decided to snap a picture or two.

  Penny sighed. “Okay, look. Legs together, you go fast. Snowplow like this and you’ll slow down. Go side to side so you don’t build up too much speed. See? Easy. Look, watch me.”

  And to his dismay, Penny turned and immediately whizzed across the ski slopes as if she’d been doing it all her life. Jon frowned and quickly followed her, whooshing elegantly on the snow.

  Actually, it looked kind of fun.

  Concentrating, Joe put his boots into his skis like Penny had, wondering vaguely why they didn’t seem to match, and made his way to the top of the slope. It seemed like a big drop. And he couldn’t figure out how you’d stop once you got started. But hey, if Penny and Jon could do it, if children could do it, then Joe Rogers would find it a piece of cake.

  Holding his breath, he forced himself off the top of the mountain and felt the incredible exhilaration of speed as he found himself skiing hell for leather right down the middle of the slope.

  Magda stared at the rolls and rolls of bright pink velvet that had been ordered at Penny’s instructions and were now cluttering up the home of Maggie and Charles Kitchin. Several times already, one or other of them had looked at them, smiled a bit anxiously, and asked what they were going to become. Each time Magda had smiled weakly and said that Penny had some exciting plans that she herself couldn’t possibly reveal.

  Because she didn’t have the slightest clue.

  Which meant that Magda had a big problem. Following Penny’s publicity stunt, she’d managed to get a meeting with two executives from Channel 3 to talk about commissioning the show for a major evening slot. She’d promised them that Future: Perfect was developing into a different kind of show, one that would appeal to a mass audience, that would get high ratings. And instead, she didn’t have a show at all. Filming still hadn’t been completed at the Joneses’ because the bloody walls weren’t painted and no one could find a painter or decorator who was available for love or money—Magda had even called round a few herself and had been told blankly that no one was available, at all, period—and the Kitchins were meant to be signing off the concept for their makeover and the bloody concept didn’t even exist yet. She was going to look a bloody fool. Those Channel 3 people were going to laugh her out of the meeting.

  And Penny, in spite of all her promises, was still not here.

  Magda took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. It was only Tuesday. Lysander had kept the Kitchins busy shopping for clothes that flattered the older person whilst giving them a youthful air, a job Magda could tell he hated by the way he kept grinding his teeth and staring into the middle distance. Penny could film her pieces to camera tomorrow, and she’d be able to do something with this place by the end of the week, Magda was sure of it. No walls were coming down, after all. Nothing major had to be done.

  As for the Joneses, Magda would think of something. No problem was insurmountable. She’d paint the place herself if need be.

  No, everything would be fine. Penny knew what she was doing. And she’d certainly pulled it out of the bag this time. If Magda had doubted her for a moment, she wouldn’t again. Interviews, photographs—Magda’s phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Holiday Choice had signed up as sponsors for an entire year, and the chief exec himself had been down to see her. He’d never done that before.

  Of course, he’d wanted to see Penny, but Magda had managed to divert him. Penny had an appointment with Tittle Tattle magazine, she’d said, watching his eyes light up greedily. She hadn’t mentioned that the appointment was in flipping Switzerland.

  The important thing, though, was to focus on the big picture. This week’s show would sort itself out; what mattered was how Magda played this positive turn of events. Now was the time to get out there, to start talking to other production companies.

  No, no it wasn’t. They had to come to her. If she started calling people up it would be too transparent and she’d lose any bargaining power. Better to stay put and wait for viewing figures to go through the roof, then sit back and let the phone start to ring.

  This week Future: Perfect; next week, Panorama. And failing that, Extreme Makeover, where they at least had prope
r budgets and company cars.

  “Would you like some hot chocolate? Maybe something stronger? Maybe some food?” Sarah Ridgeway was looking at Joe with a concerned look on her face.

  He shook his head.

  “You came down very quickly,” she said cheerfully. “Shame about that tumble at the end. I think you’re very brave going skiing in the first place. I mean, it’s alright for people like Jon and Penny who’ve been skiing all their lives, but I don’t suppose there’s much snow in LA, is there?”

  Joe turned to Penny. “You’ve skied all your life?” he asked, his voice strained.

  Penny frowned. “‘Course I have. I grew up in bloody Switzerland, didn’t I? I was skiing before I could walk. Why?”

  “No reason.” He took a deep breath. “Hey, would you excuse me? I need to make a phone call.”

  He stood up stiffly every bone and muscle in his body crying out in pain. Even his neck muscles were in agony from having been tensed in utter terror as he hurtled down the slope. But nothing in his body had been dented as deeply as his pride. How was he to know that there was a right way and a wrong way to put on skis? He’d thought that maybe his skis weren’t a matching pair when one appeared to be shorter at the front than the other, but it turned out that he had one of them on back to front. Which helped somewhat when he ended up traveling backward down the bottom portion of that horrible mountain. It helped less when Penny didn’t stop laughing about it after she and Jon discovered him in a crumpled heap at the bottom. She told everyone, too. It was her latest funny little anecdote.

  God, he was beginning to hate that woman.

  Slowly, he eased his way to a nearby table and managed to sit down, pulling out his mobile. The minute he was back in the UK, he was going to knock this whole farcical relationship on the head. He just wanted to make sure that he’d gotten enough publicity mileage out of it.

  “Bob,” he said, “it’s me. Joe.”

  “Joe! Great to hear from you! How’s the skiing?”

  Joe chose not to answer that question. “Do I have some auditions? I don’t know how long I can keep this thing going with Penny. So, I was wondering, maybe we could break up and I could get some publicity out of that?”

  Bob whistled. “Joe, right now you’re really flying on Penny’s coat-tails. I’m not sure you breaking up with her is such a good idea, you know? If we could get you on Celebrity Sing a Song for Sixpence, or next year’s Celebrity Big Brother, then you’d have your own profile, but for the time being, I think this thing is really working for you. …”

  “Next year? I cannot do this for a year!”

  “I’m sure it won’t be that long. We’re making some calls, and when you get back I just know we’re going to have some exciting things lined up for you. Okay?”

  “Fine. See ya.” Disgruntled, Joe put his phone in his pocket and sighed, looking over at Penny and the Tittle Tattle crew.

  Then he stood up, cringing at the pain, and walked back to his interview.

  At five P.M., Tim from NorthWest Productions finally took Kate’s call.

  “Hi!” she said brightly. “I’m Kate Hetherington. Formerly the interiors stylist on Future: Perfect, a makeover show you may know about on—”

  “I know who you are,” Tim cut in. “You’re the one who was in the papers. Penny Pennington nicked your boyfriend, right?”

  Kate blanched. “I wouldn’t say nicked, exactly,” she said. “I mean, I wasn’t really that into him anyway.”

  “Right. So my assistant tells me you have an idea you want to pitch?”

  “Yes,” Kate said. “A makeover project with a difference. It’s a hospice, you see. A hospice for cancer patients and it’s run as a charity, and the place really needs to be brightened up….”

  “A hospice.”

  “Yes, with these great patients, so some really good life stories there …”

  “Any celebrity interest?”

  Kate frowned. “Celebrity interest?”

  “We could get a bunch of them,” he said with growing excitement. “Each one could design a room and it could be a competition. The patients could vote. Viewers could vote. Maybe they could get voted out, one each week?”

  Kate cleared her throat. “Yeah, I was actually thinking not so much of celebrities and more of getting builders in, you know. More of a warmhearted program than a celeb one, if you know what I mean?”

  “You, Penny, and that bloke. If all three of you were on it, that would be great,” Tim continued obliviously. “Could you stage an argument? Fall out over something?”

  “There’s this patient. Betty, her name is,” Kate tried. “I think she’d be great on television. She’s bright, and funny, and brave, and—”

  “Kate, I love the idea. Get me a proposal. Suggest some celebrities, and we’ll brainstorm here, too. Penny and whatshisname are definites. We’ll need a few more, though. Maybe it could all be warring couples. Or new couples. Peter and Jordan, maybe. Yeah, this is great. Thanks for thinking of us. So, shall we say you’ll have something with us by the end of today?”

  Kate frowned, unsure that they had been having the same conversation. Then she shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “That sounds great.”

  Jane from Panther Productions was less enthusiastic. “Yeah, I think hospitals have been done,” she said. “Thanks, though, and if you have any other ideas …”

  “Not a hospital,” Kate said. “A hospice. It’s like a house where patients go after treatment and they’re looked after there and—”

  “Yeah, I think it’s the whole medical genre that’s been a bit overdone,” Jane said in a South London drawl. “Sport’s big right now. Since we’ve got the Olympics everyone’s going crazy for it. Got any ideas around sport, have you?”

  Kate bit her lip. “No,” she said, “no sport. Just the hospice, I’m afraid.”

  “Shame,” Jane said with a sigh. “Well, let me know if you come up with anything, yeah?”

  “Sure,” Kate promised. “You’ll be the first to know.”

  Despondently, she put the phone down. Out of the five producers she’d contacted, Tim seemed the only one who was even remotely interested, and his version of the idea bore absolutely no resemblance to hers. She’d rather spend a year renovating the hospice herself than involve Penny and Joe in the project.

  And Tom still hadn’t called.

  Was he angry with her about something? Should she have called him, maybe? No, he said he’d call her. The cardinal rule was that you couldn’t call someone when they said they’d call you. Even if that person was Tom. Even if until that kiss, calling Tom had been the most natural thing in the world to do.

  Maybe she should just call him and tell him the whole thing had been a bad idea, she thought. That would clear the air. Get things back to normal.

  But had it been a bad idea? Or had it been an incredibly good one?

  Maybe she should call him and see what he thought. Maybe he was waiting by the phone right now, hoping that she’d call him up….

  Her hand reached tentatively toward the phone, but she stopped herself. She’d buy some food instead, she decided. She’d buy some food for supper, cook it, eat it, and then if Tom still hadn’t called by, say, ten P.M., she’d call him.

  She grabbed her bag and keys and headed out of the flat.

  A brisk walk later, Kate opened the door to the supermarket and made her way to the fresh foods counter. She’d decided to buy a freshly made pizza, which she would eat in front of the television before having a long, hot bath. That way, if Tom did call, she wouldn’t have been waiting by the phone. That way, she was less likely to give in and call him instead.

  She stared at the board above the counter, trying to decide which toppings to go for and drawing a blank because her mind was too tired to concentrate.

  Then she frowned. In the mirror beneath the toppings board, she thought she could see a familiar face. Turning round, she smiled, wondering why she suddenly felt so awkward.

  “
Tom!” she said. “You’re here!”

  Tom stared at her for a second, then grinned broadly. “Kate,” he said, rushing over and giving her a hug. “So sorry I haven’t been able to call. So, how are things?”

  “They’re good. Really good,” Kate said quickly. “I was just buying pizza. Are you hungry?”

  Tom gave her an unreadable look. “Actually,” he said, “I’m, uh, going back to the hospital in a bit. Just came out to grab some things, you know.”

  “Oh.” Kate nodded uncertainly. “And later?”

  Tom shrugged. “Kate, I just don’t know, I’m afraid. This patient …” His eyes moved away from hers shiftily, and she got a sudden pain in her stomach, as if she’d been punched. She knew that look—had seen it on other people, had no doubt had it on her face a few times over the years. She’d just never expected to see it on Tom’s face.

  “Right,” she said. “Of course. Well, you know, I’ll see you when I see you, I suppose.”

  “You’re okay, though?” Tom asked hopefully. “I mean, things are okay?”

  Kate forced herself to smile. She might have mistaken the look. Tom was a doctor, after all. Of course he was busy. “They’re fine, Tom. Really. Don’t worry about it.”

  Tom ducked his head.

  “Ooh. You buying pizza, Tom? Do they do pepperoni?”

  Kate frowned and stared at the strange girl who had just appeared beside him.

  “I’m sorry?” she asked, her voice rather more cutting than she intended.

  The girl looked at her in surprise. “Do I know you?” she asked, then turned to Tom. “Make sure you get pepperoni,” she said, and pinched his bum. “I feel like a bit of meat tonight!”