by Clare Revell
“It did last year.” She paused. “Yes, I believe in being direct and honest. There isn’t much point otherwise.”
He nodded. “Exactly. Too much fakery in my line of work. It’s nice just to be myself occasionally.” He nodded to her cross. “Am I right in assuming you’re a Christian?”
Dawn smiled. “It’s refreshing to find someone as direct as me. Well, according to Liam, we both go to the same church.”
“Liam Page?”
Dawn nodded. “He gave me your phone number. He should be around somewhere, but he’s on lunchtime detention duty today. He teaches English.” She sipped her coffee. “I’m a Christian. Grew up in the church in London, rebelled as a teenager, and drove my parents to distraction no doubt. And I mean rebelled. I started smoking at twelve, drinking at fourteen. Hid it pretty well, or so I thought. Anyway, I found God, well He found me, at my lowest point. Stopped smoking, stopped drinking—well to excess anyway, and here I am.”
Gabe studied her. She was right about being direct. “What happened if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The kids I ran with got caught up in drugs. I didn’t take them; I had more sense. Plus which, I think my mother would have disowned me. My boyfriend, I guess you’d call him, took a load. He got high, drank half a bottle of his dad’s scotch, and stole the keys to his dad’s sports car. He wrapped it around a tree and he, his sister, and his mate died. Had I gone with them, like they wanted me to, I would have been killed too. But Mum had given me a curfew, and although I normally ignored it, that one night I decided to be home when she told me.”
Gabe straightened in stunned shock. “Wow.” He hadn’t expected a story like that, or for her to be so honest.
“Anyway, it made me think, and God used it to bring me back to Him. What about you?”
“Nothing so dramatic.” He put the lid back on his sandwich box. “I’ve always gone to church, so it was more of a natural progression.”
“No less of a miracle though.”
Gabe smiled. “And it’s not easy in my line of work, either.”
“I can imagine.” Dawn paused, running her fingertip around the rim of her cup. “Do you…?” She broke off, a hint of red filling her cheeks.
“Go on.”
“What if the film calls for bedroom scenes or something? Would you do it?”
Gabe sipped his coffee. “That depends on the script, and whether the couple are married, but as a general rule, no, I won’t strip, and I won’t film in bed. I won’t swear in a film, either. Sometimes that requires negotiating mid-filming with the director to change the lines, but if that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.”
He’d never really thought about how other people would view his work.
To him it was a job—a role he was playing. None of it was him.
He prayed over each role before accepting it and kept each character true to the book or script. He made a point of never doing anything which would compromise him or his faith. Sure, a few of his earlier roles made him cringe, and a few had earned him a lecture from his parents—mostly from his mother—on bringing the title into disrepute.
But no one knew that. At least, not in the circles he kept, and so far, the press reporting had kept his two lives separate, curtesy of an unspoken agreement. Not that he expected that to last forever. He wasn’t that naïve. And when they did, he’d just have to deal with it and pray his reputation and demo reel kept the work coming in for the right reasons.
He looked at the woman who sat next to him and smiled. He loved the fact that she was treating him like a normal person. “What do you do in your spare time?”
“What spare time?” Her laugh was like a peal of church bells across a frosty village green. A patch of sun on a cloudy day. “I cross stitch and read a lot. And I love walking.”
“I read too,” he said. “And play golf occasionally.” Although that was kind of expected, and he got out of it when he could. “But I love horse riding.”
“I haven’t ridden in years. However, I was the under fifteen county table tennis champion three years on the trot.”
He tilted his head. “Impressive. Do you still play?”
“Sometimes.” She put her cup down and stood as the bell rang. “I should start setting up. Some of the sixth formers are going to help with the tables.”
Gabe stood. “Show me what I can do to help.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” she protested.
“I’m offering.” He smiled. “I’m here, use me.”
He spent the next half hour happily moving tables, something he was never allowed to do at home, not as a child, and definitely not now.
He took pleasure in lifting the heavy boxes from his car and carrying them inside to the small table he’d been allocated.
“What are those?” Dawn asked.
“Leaflets on acting schools, local theatre reps, theatre schools, and so on. And the box of photos my brother told me I’d need. But I’ll only sign one if they ask an acting related question.”
“Good idea.” She turned away to greet the rest of the guests.
Gabe busied himself with setting up his table. He put out all the leaflets and a few of the photos in a pile. The rest he kept in the box by his chair. He glanced up as a journalist and photographer from the local paper arrived.
Jeffery Palmer. It had to be the one journalist who knew who Gabe really was—or at least didn’t honor the unspoken agreement to keep both lives separate. He made a beeline towards him. “Lord Tyler, fancy seeing you here. Are you opening this shindig?”
“No, here to promote acting, actually.”
“I bet your mother loves that idea.”
“What about you?” Gabe swiftly turned the tables. “Are you working or speaking?”
“Both.” Mr. Palmer waved across the room. “Miss Stannis? How about a group photo and a few words before the kids get in here?”
Gabe stifled his groan. Talk about rubbing his mother’s face in it. No doubt this would make the front page. But it wasn’t all bad, as he got to stand next to Dawn in the photo.
The kids began to file in, and Gabe soon found himself with a long queue. As the afternoon and evening progressed, it did start to ebb a bit, and he started to understand why some of the actors he’d worked with loved doing conventions.
~*~
His mother was in a foul temper the following morning, and Gabe retreated soon after breakfast to his room to pack for the upcoming movie shoot—at least that was the reason he gave. Instead, he spent a good three hours of the morning reading the script. Blake was coming to lunch, so at least there would be someone else to talk to. He wasn’t sure how much more of the sniping he could take before snapping back.
Blake leaned against the doorframe. “Hiding?”
Gabe looked up. “Avoiding.”
Blake shook his head. “I even found Hardy darting into the library, so I don’t blame you in the slightest.” He moved into the room. “You have fun at the careers fayre last night?”
Gabe inclined his head a little. “Yeah. Did the kids decide what they want to do yet?”
“Right now they both want to go to acting school.” Blake rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that.”
Gabe laughed. “You’re welcome. But I wouldn’t worry too much. This time next week, Eddie will want to be a spy, and Jason will want to be a cop again.”
“Both roles of yours, I hasten to add.” Blake sighed. “What’s wrong with being a social worker?”
Gabe tossed his diary into the case. “You really want me to answer that question, Mr. Social Worker and House Father of twenty-four rug rats?”
Blake shook his head. “Nope. Oh and lunch is ready. That’s the real reason I came up.”
“Then we’d better get down downstairs quickly.” Gabe walked with Blake down to the dining room.
His mother glowered from her end of the table.
No doubt lunch would be as uncomfortable as breakfast. He resolved to eat quickly
as possible and then leave. He’d have to catch up with his brother by video chat that evening once all the kids were in bed.
He said grace and began eating. “I need to finish packing after this.”
“Why?” his mother demanded.
Gabe tried not to snap. He had told her, but with her memory she’d most likely forgotten. “Work. It’s a two, possibly three week shoot, but I will be home at some point as I have a movie premier in London to attend. And I don’t see wasting time in a hotel when London is a half hour drive from here.”
Anger surged across Countess Florence’s face. “What about the estate?”
“That is what I pay the estate manager for. Any problems he can’t deal with, he knows to come to you.”
“And I can always help out if needed,” Blake added.
The old lady snorted in derision. “Like that would be any help. You can’t go, Gabriel. I invited Janaya for dinner tomorrow.”
Gabe groaned. “You know I don’t like her.”
“She’s a lovely girl—excellent countess material.”
“Comes with her own abacus no doubt,” Gabe muttered.
“What on earth for?” His mother shot him a withering look.
“Countess—counting—abacus…” Gabe explained.
Blake snorted with laughter turning it into a cough as Countess Florence glared at him.
“That makes no sense,” his mother said sharply.
“Never mind.” Gabe looked at Blake. “Have fun tomorrow night.”
“I won’t be here,” Blake said the relief evident in his voice. “It’s full on at the kids’ home right now. You’re fortunate I managed to get away for lunch today. Plus, I’m away on a four-day course starting Monday.”
“Who’s looking after the kids?”
“Reg and Sasha. I was going to ask you after your experience on Warwick High, never mind the way you handled yourself last night.” He tilted his head to the front page of the paper on the table by his mother.
Gabe laughed. “I’m not ready for kids yet. One unmarried father of twenty-four is enough in the family.”
Blake flicked the leftover peas across the table at him. “Well, when you do, my babysitting rates are fifteen fifty an hour.”
“In your dreams.” Gabe laughed as he rose. “And on that note, I actually must finish packing. I have a really early call in the morning, so I’m driving myself up tonight. That way you’ll have the car and Peters here, Mother.”
“Are you living in that dreadful trailer again?” his mother asked.
Gabe grinned, taking delight in her displeasure. “We all are. It’s an actor’s life.” He took two steps towards the door, only to halt in despair.
“What’s wrong with a hotel or hiring somewhere?” his mother demanded. “You could at least take your valet with you. It’s not seemly for someone of your social standing to be alone.”
“I’m hardly alone, mother, the crew alone number around fifty. And it’s only two weeks, three at the most. But I’ll look into it. Perhaps there’s a local caravan site or bed and breakfast.”
“Such a hard life,” Blake teased. “Getting paid to go and stay in Derbyshire, in the middle of nowhere, in a caravan must be so difficult. Most people pay for that privilege. I don’t remember the last time I even had a holiday. Can I come and be your valet? Or even your coat hanger?”
Gabe laughed. He stood, walked around the table, and hugged Blake. “You take care.”
“You, too. I’ll walk out with you, as there was something I wanted to ask you.”
“Sure.” Gabe kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
He headed from the room and sighed heavily as he reached the hallway. “What on earth is wrong with a trailer? Every actor uses them. And I am so not taking my valet.”
“She’ll adapt.”
“I hope so. The sooner the better.” Gabe looked at his brother. “What did you want to ask?”
“What did you make of that teacher?”
“Huh?”
“The one in the paper, from your school visit yesterday. She couldn’t keep her eyes off you from what I could see last night.”
“Dawn Stannis? She’s pretty, different to most women. You know, she actually spoke to me like I was a real person.”
Blake looked at him in mock shock. “No… And here I was thinking you were my imaginary brother, and I was the eighth Earl of Elton.”
Gabe grinned. “Nope, but if you want, I’ll abdicate, and you can be the ninth.”
“I’m good, but thanks for the offer. Are you going to see her again?”
The guards immediately went up, and Gabe looked at his brother suspiciously. “Why?”
“Just asking.”
“She goes to Headley Baptist by all accounts, but whether I’ll see her there or not, I don’t know. Honestly, I doubt she’d be interested, and I’m away for the next two weeks, anyway.”
“Two weeks isn’t a lifetime, Gabe. You could always ask her to this film premiere.”
“OK, enough already with the teasing. The school thing was a one off speaking arrangement. She’s probably involved with someone.”
“Liam would know. He seems to be the fount of all knowledge as far as church romances go. Want me to ask him for you?”
“It’s fine.” Gabe shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m perfectly happy being a bachelor right now. Thank you all the same.”
Blake laughed and sang the last two lines of Bachelor Boy as he headed out of the front door.
Gabe shook his head and headed to pack. Shutting the door behind him, he pulled out his phone and dialed quickly.
“Carnation Street Florist, Mandy speaking.”
“Hi, Mandy, it’s Gabriel Tyler. I’d like to order some flowers. A large bouquet of dark pink roses.” He wandered to the window looking over the grounds. “Yes, dark pink. About twenty… Sounds good. Yes, to Miss Dawn Stannis, care of Headley Cross Secondary School as soon as you can.”
4
Monday morning came way too early. Dawn glanced around the kitchen. The roses sat in a vase on the worktop, and they smelled heavenly. She adored the dark pink color and leaned over the vase to inhale again. The card leaned against the pretty crystal vase. Thanks for asking me to the careers fayre. I really enjoyed it. Gabriel Tyler.
The kids had done nothing but talk about him since his visit, and the whole school was now filled with seventeen hundred budding thespians.
Dawn topped up the water in the vase. Would the roses still be alive when she got home on Friday? She hoped so. No one had ever given her flowers before, and it’d be a waste if she missed out on these. Just in case, she took a photograph of them.
She rinsed her cup and put it in the dishwasher. Then she headed to pack the boot of the car. Both her suitcase and rucksack went it, along with the first aid kit, her map, and compass. She went back inside for the USB drive containing all the worksheets and her notes. She’d print them off at school when she got there.
A week long field trip to Derbyshire had seemed such a good idea when she first suggested it.
But now?
Forty year tens, average age fourteen? At least she had four adults going, and she could always threaten to send the entire group home early if they misbehaved.
The drive to the school took the usual fifteen minutes, and she parked opposite the CCTV cameras. Five minutes later, her bags were in the staff room, and she was going ten rounds with the photocopier.
Liz Freeman smiled. “I gave up with that on Friday. It didn’t want to collate the sheets.”
“It still doesn’t,” Dawn sighed. “Maybe it’s just run out of staples or something.”
“I checked that. And for a paper jam. Nada.”
“Problems?” Jonathan appeared beside them, looking far more cheerful than anyone had a right to at six thirty in the morning.
Dawn and Liz answered in unison. “The photocopier.”
“Allow me.” Jona
than pulled the side panel free and within three minutes had the photocopier working. “So, who were the flowers that came for you on Friday from, Dawn?”
“You got flowers?” Liz asked.
“A huge bouquet of roses,” Jonathan said. “And not cheap ones either.”
“Wow.” Liz leaned against the wall folding her arms across her chest. “Do tell.”
Dawn rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Pink ones before you ask, from one of the careers fayre guests. A thank you for inviting him.”
“Him?”
“All the guests this time were men, and his name isn’t important,” Dawn said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly as her cheeks heated and burned. She was grateful her complexion made it slightly less obvious she was blushing.
Robert Evans, the fourth staff member going, came up to them. “The coach is here. We should get our stuff on there and nab our seats. The kids are also starting to arrive. I’ve told them to put cases by the coach and wait in the hall for now.”
Dawn shoved the last of the papers into the box. “Thanks.”
Jonathan looked at her. “Dawn, as this is your trip, how do you want to play it?”
“We need to be gone by seven at the latest.” She slid into work mode setting all thoughts of Gabriel Tyler and bunches of roses to one side.
~*~
The drive to Derbyshire took four hours including stops on the way. The kids were noisy and excited, but as least the seatbelts meant that they sat down the entire journey and weren’t bouncing off the ceiling like they had on previous occasions. Finally, the coach pulled into the activity center and parked outside the main building.
Dawn stood and grabbed her bag. She and Jonathan headed inside to check in and pick up the keys. Then she headed back to the coach. She picked up the mic. “OK, now listen up, or you won’t know where you’re sleeping. The cabins are to the rear of the main building. Oak one is for the girls. Oak two is for the boys. Each room will sleep five and, no, you can’t change rooms.”
The kids groaned.
Jonathan grinned and grabbed the mic. “Just be grateful you’re not sharing with Mr. Evans.”
“Why? Does he snore, sir?” came a voice from the back.