Beaumont Brides Collection (Wild Justice, Wild Lady, Wild Fire)

by Liz Fielding

  ‘I told you it wasn’t her car,’ one of the girls was muttering as she eased passed the knot of fans at the entrance. ‘She’s got a white stretch limo.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. That just brought her from the airport. And anyway he’s definitely her boyfriend.’

  The first girl scoffed. ‘Him? He’s as old as my dad.’

  ‘I don’t care. My mum works at the Metropole and she knows.’

  ‘Well who’s she then?’ she said, staring at Fizz.

  ‘She just works at PR. A secretary or something. I’ve seen her before.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Of no further interest to the girls and happy in her anonymity, Fizz slipped easily through the milling crowd of girls. But the front door of the Pavilion had been locked and the foyer lights turned off, presumably to discourage Melanie’s fans. She had her keys, but the girls behind her began to surge forward as they sensed she might provide them with a way in. Instead she rattled the door, then turned and shrugged in a general gesture of helplessness before taking refuge in the restaurant, busy serving afternoon teas to matrons who had also come in to escape the mayhem on the pier.

  ‘Hello, Fizz.’ The young chef she had chosen to run her newest project was in the kitchen, laying out knives and boards in preparation for the evening.

  ‘Hi, John. You’re busy today.’

  ‘We’ve had a rush on afternoon teas,’ he agreed. ‘I just wish I had a hot dog concession out there. Those girls could do with something to spend their money on.’

  ‘They could have come in here.’

  ‘If you’d decided on a burger bar they might have. Although frankly I doubt they’d risk missing Melanie Brett.’

  ‘Mmmm. Well, we stock chocolate in the shop if they’re hungry.’

  She would have to find out whether they could have the “I listen to “Holiday Bay”” t-shirts overprinted with Melanie’s name or picture and some new mugs made. Melanie was keen to take part and apparently stuck in Broomhill Bay for the summer. Despite Luke’s warning, Fizz was sure she would still do the show, even if she could pull off a last minute life-saving act and keep Luke Devlin out of the picture.

  The young soap star could be a real money spinner for the station and Fizz swore silently that she would take every penny available. She was determined that if she got out of this predicament she would never, ever be held hostage to fortune again. She suddenly realised that John had just said something.

  ‘I’m sorry, what was that?’

  ‘I said chocolate doesn’t have the same sensory appeal as frying onions on a cold afternoon. Is this going to happen on a regular basis?’ He nodded in the direction of the pier.

  ‘There’s no reason why it should,’ she said, anxious to dampen any entrepreneurial ideas John might be nursing. He was a young, talented chef keen to open his own restaurant but for now happy to learn the business and make his mistakes at someone else’s expense. She had no illusions about keeping him for more than a year or two at the most.

  He gave her a sideways look while he began to count lemons out of a box.

  ‘Janice must have got it wrong then.’

  ‘Janice?’

  ‘One of the waitresses.’ Fizz knew who she was and made an impatient little gesture. ‘She overheard Melanie Brett telling Andy that she was going to be joining the cast of “Holiday Bay” for the summer.’

  Yes!

  ‘Did she tell anyone else?’

  ‘The waitress or Miss Melanie Brett?’ John, who spent most of his working life with women, took great enjoyment in winding them up, but something in her expression made him think twice about teasing Fizz any further and he straightened. ‘What do you think?’ he said. Fizz thought it was likely that the news would be all over town by closing time. ‘It is true then?’ John persisted.

  There was no point in denying that there was something in the wind. ‘If I can pull if off. Nothing definite. Will you speak to your staff, John? Tell them... Ask them, very politely, to be discrete.’

  ‘Let me put a hot dog stall out there and I’ll guarantee your secret.’

  She hid her irritation. ‘Oh? And how would you do that?’

  ‘Simple bribery. I’d be able to afford it.’

  Fizz wondered how much money a hot dog stall would take on a busy day. Not everyone wanted to come in and sit down to eat. And if it was sited far enough away, down by the bandstand perhaps, it wouldn’t interfere with the restaurant.

  It was certainly an idea. Not that she was in a position to give John what he wanted.

  The Pier Trust controlled concessions and even if they were prepared to consider such a thing it would have to be put out to tender. By the time that could be organised it would be too late for her. Too late to keep Luke Devlin at bay. So she allowed the smallest expression of regret to cross her features.

  ‘Unfortunately, John, I refuse to work with the constant smell of frying onions. Or with blackmailers.’

  ‘Only kidding, boss.’ He shrugged. ‘But if you should ever change your mind…’

  ‘You’ll be the first to know, I promise. In the meantime will you send a tray of tea up to the Green Room?’

  ‘Muffins, sandwiches, cake?’

  ‘Oh, anything you can spare. I’m sure a siege mentality has taken over upstairs and whatever Melanie doesn’t want the gannets in the newsroom will devour.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, since this appears to be the only way into the station, I’ll help myself to your back door.’

  She found Melanie already at home in the Green Room, chatting to Andy and a new girl Jim had taken on. Fizz groped in her memory for her name. Shelly? Something like that. ‘Had a good day?’ she asked Melanie, shrugging out of her jacket.

  ‘Wonderful. I can’t wait to start. Have you got next week’s scripts for me to read?’

  ‘Yes, they’re about somewhere. Of course we’re going to have to make some changes to ease you into the cast. We’ve got a wedding coming up. It’s been put off twice already,’ she said, with a grin. ‘This time I really thought it might go ahead. But as you may have heard, everything happens in threes.’ She turned to the young reporter. Kelly... ‘Kelly, I think we should embargo the news that Miss Brett is joining the cast of “Holiday Bay” until Friday afternoon.’

  She was certain rumours would be flying thick and fast by then, but at least Melanie had heard her give the instruction. It was up to her whether she owned up to her lack of discretion.

  ‘Perhaps I could do an interview with Melanie for the Friday afternoon magazine programme, Miss Beaumont?’

  The girl had quickly learned to grab herself a slice of the limelight. If she was tough enough she would go far. ‘Call me Fizz, everyone does. I’ll let you know, Kelly.’ And Kelly was dismissed. Andy didn’t take the hint. ‘Did the show go well this afternoon?’

  ‘It was really good. Lots of calls.’

  ‘Good.’ She glanced at her watch, again. ‘Haven’t you got a disco this evening, Andy?’ Most of the broadcasters had more than one string to their bow and Andy was in great demand not just in Broomhill, but right down the south coast.

  ‘I was keeping Melanie company until the crowd outside gets a bit thinner.’

  ‘I don’t think it will be too long, it’s getting very cold.’ She turned to Melanie. ‘And I’ve promised Luke that I’ll see you safely back to the Metropole.’ Fizz gave Andy a look he shouldn’t have been able to ignore. He ignored it.

  ‘Andy’s already promised to drive me home, Fizz.’ Melanie seemed perfectly happy with the arrangement and Andy looked positively smug.

  ‘You could come along to the disco, if you like,’ he offered, a throwaway line that could be grasped or not without loss of face on either side. But there was a brightness about his eyes, a sharp eagerness that sent a tiny quiver of alarm feathering along Fizz’s spine.

  ‘Andy! Are you mad? The poor girl would be mobbed.’

  ‘But I’d love to come another time,’ Melan
ie said, without the slightest coyness. ‘Once people are used to seeing me about and I can fade into the background a bit. It won’t take long, will it, Fizz?’ Fizz released her breath very carefully.

  ‘No, it won’t take long. Just make sure you have someone with you for a week or two and a mobile phone to call for help if you need it.’

  ‘I’ll be happy to keep you company if you want to get around a bit,’ Andy offered and received a smile to put the sun in the shade for his trouble. ‘I have plenty of free time.’

  Fizz, realising that she had made a mistake, ploughed on. ‘Of course, if you wear a woolly hat to cover your hair and the kind of nondescript clothes that don’t attract attention you could probably walk through Broomhill without anyone recognising you right now. Or at least, they wouldn’t be sure enough to risk making a fool of themselves.’

  She felt like a universal aunt dispensing wise advice to the young and she wasn’t much enjoying the experience. Besides, she was only too aware that Melanie was a full grown adult. Luke Devlin might treat her like his personal property, but Fizz was in no position to forbid the girl to drive home with Andy. She only hoped Luke would see it in the same light.

  Tea arrived, with just two cups and Andy was dispatched to check on the state of the siege. Having established his right to take Melanie home, he didn’t protest.

  ‘Luke asked me to tell you that he might be late for dinner. He said you shouldn’t wait for him,’ Fizz said, as soon as he had gone.

  ‘Oh, you’ve seen him?’

  ‘We’ve been house hunting for you.’

  ‘Poor you.’ She took a muffin, smothered it with butter and sank a row of small, even white teeth into it. ‘Luke’s not very easy to please. I suppose he settled on some gloomy great place miles from anywhere?’

  It seemed Luke was right about Winterbourne Manor. ‘I don’t think he’s made any decision yet,’ she hedged. ‘He seemed more concerned about what you would want.’

  ‘Did he?’ Disconcertingly Melanie blushed, as if she had been scolded. ‘Oh, gosh, I don’t really mind where we live. I just wish...’ She glanced at Fizz and then away again. ‘I just wish Luke could spend a bit more time with me. I’ve hardly seen him since I arrived.’

  She was still such a child, Fizz thought, angry with Luke Devlin for being so selfish. Melanie should be with someone like Andy. Someone who would take her to exotic little restaurants in the Wynds, to discos and the cinema. Someone to make her laugh. Someone to flirt with her. She had the feeling that Melanie could do with some fun and the thought of her rattling around the Metropole, as stuffy as it was expensive, or alone at Winterbourne Manor, waiting for Luke to come home was very depressing.

  ‘He did try to find somewhere close to town, but there really isn’t anywhere that you’d like,’ Fizz said, more gently.

  Andy stuck his head around the door. ‘It’s fairly quiet out there, now. Just a few determined fans who won’t go until they’ve seen you. It might be kind to go out before they actually freeze to the deck.’

  ‘Finish your tea, Melanie. Andy can fetch your coat. It’s in my office.’ She stood up and offered her hand. ‘I’m so glad you want to join us. We’re all looking forward to working with you.’

  ‘I can’t wait. And tell Kelly to give me a ring if she wants to tape an interview for Friday.’

  ‘I will. Perhaps you’d like to do a few promos as well?’ She caught Andy on the stairs. ‘Straight to the Metropole, Andy and keep your hands to yourself.’ She might think it a very good thing if Andy whisked Melanie off to his disco and gave her the kind of good time a girl of her age should be having, but she had her station to think of.

  ‘She’s over the age of consent, Fizz.’

  She knew that. Oh, God, she knew that. But she kept her feelings to herself.

  ‘Maybe, but Luke Devlin will have Melanie out of here faster than the Broomhill Thunderbolt if anyone upsets him. And neither of us wants that.’

  Andy grinned. ‘And when were you last on the Thunderbolt, Fizz?’ The Thunderbolt was the pride of the funfair and a white knuckle ride bar none.

  ‘Me? I wouldn’t go on that thing for a king’s ransom.’ For the money to pay off her bank loan was another matter.

  ‘You should try it. It might shake a few of the rivets out of your corset.’

  ‘When I want my rivets loosened, I’ll consider it. In the meantime-’

  ‘Straight to the Metropole. Hands to myself,’ he repeated her instructions. ‘This time.’

  She hesitated. ‘It never hurts to play the gentleman, Andy.’

  He grinned. ‘Leave them guessing, eh? Is that what works with you?’ She knew he was puzzled by the fact that she found him utterly resistible, but this time he was nearer to the truth than he knew.

  Once. Just once it had worked with her. Patrick March had been a lot like Andy. A little taller perhaps, his eyes meltingly dark. That first morning on the set, when she was eighteen and with a part any young actress would die for, a bundle of nerves that she might make a fool of herself, ruin her career before it had even begun, that first morning he had played the gentleman to perfection.

  He was broodingly handsome.

  Heathcliffe, Romeo, Mr Darcy, with his dark good looks, tousled curls, he could have played any one of them.

  At twenty-six he was almost too old to play the part of an out of control youth, living off petty crime who had lost his heart to the young daughter of the most powerful family in town, but he had appeared in a film made in America and had been noticed. The company making the low budget adaptation of Romeo and Juliet to be filmed in modern Verona had wanted to cash in on his moment of fame before he was forgotten, or became too expensive.

  Fizz had seen the film. And she had recognised the talent that had simmered just below the surface, contained by the knowledge that the actor/director starring in the film would make certain anything that outshone his own performance would end up on the cutting room floor. But Patrick had still been noticed. And now he was noticing her. The knowledge went to her head faster than champagne.

  On her arrival in Verona it hadn’t taken her an hour to discover that the rest of the cast assumed she had been given the part because of her illustrious family connections. A few of them were openly hostile, more fawned all over her, neither of them comfortable experiences.

  Patrick had simply taken her hand, held it briefly, given it the smallest squeeze, a reassuring smile. She hadn’t so much melted as dissolved.

  He spent time explaining what would happen so she didn’t feel quite so lost and confused. He went out of his way to make her look good for the camera, never stealing a scene. And when they kissed for the camera he broke away the minute the director called a halt. Leaving her wanting more.

  A perfect gentleman.

  A very clever gentleman.

  He had rehearsed her in the evening, when the crew and the rest of the cast were out having a good time. He took her to see the galleries and the museums, holding her hand as they walked through the city, taking her through the film script, comparing it knowledgeably with Shakespeare’s play.

  He’d seemed oblivious to her family, oblivious to her melting desire for him until she began to wonder if he was gay. How different her life might be now if that had been the case.

  ‘Fizz?’ She jumped. ‘You were miles away. I said we’re just going.’

  She stared at Andy and Melanie. ‘Oh, yes. Take care, both of you.’

  She could see them making their way down the pier from her office window. They were followed by the faithful band of fans who had stuck it out despite the cold and the dark. Melanie was laughing, Fizz could see her breath, little puffs of vapour, her hair a golden nimbus in the glow of the lamps as she signed the last of the autograph books thrust out to her, not hurrying, all charm. And Andy waited patiently.

  Then Melanie slipped her hand under his arm and still chatting to the girls who had waited so long to meet her, they walked slowly off the pier togeth
er.

  She sat down, her cold hands stuffed hard into her pockets. Why had she told Andy to play the gentleman? She, of all people, knew that any actor worth his salt could play the gentleman if you gave him a script. It took more than a script to make the genuine article. Unfortunately, it could be hard to tell the difference.

  There was a tap at her door and she looked up to see her father watching from the doorway. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Of course, if you can stand the cold. I really will have to do something about the heating up here. It’s not fair on Susie.’

  ‘I understand that snow has been forecast.’

  She nodded. ‘I heard. We don’t usually get it down here on the coast though.’

  ‘Is everything all right, Fizz? You looked somewhat distant.’

  ‘Fine.’ She found a smile for him. ‘Mr Devlin has agreed to carry on sponsoring us provided we find a part for a young actress he knows in “Holiday Bay”.’

  ‘Really?’ He sounded pleased. ‘Well, that shouldn’t prove too much of a problem.’

  ‘No. None whatever. She’s a delightful girl. She’s something of a celebrity in fact and I’m sure listening figures will rocket. Having her in the town should be good for local trade too.’

  Edward Beaumont beamed. ‘There now,’ he said, delighted with the world. ‘I said you could handle it without me.’ Then he shivered. ‘Why don’t you come down to my office and have a glass of sherry to celebrate.’

  ‘I’ll leave it until the weekend if you don’t mind. Is Claudia coming home do you know? I’d like to talk to her, explain what’s happening.’ Before she picked up some second hand gossip.

  ‘I am expecting her. She ‘phoned earlier, still sounding thoroughly fed up about losing this film. We really ought to do something to cheer her up. A little party, perhaps? You haven’t had an official opening of the restaurant yet -’

  Fizz suddenly realised that her father’s visit was to discuss Claudia’s problems not hers. ‘Dad, would you mind if we talk about this tomorrow? I really have a million things to do.’

  He hesitated for just a moment. ‘Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.’