Hutch must have radioed for assistance because six plainclothes officers appeared on the roof terrace and bundled the small group into the lift and down into a fleet of waiting people carriers.
All Jess knew, a few hours later, was that she was lying in her own bed, in Granny’s Nook, next to the sleeping form of Ryan.
She got slowly out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Downstairs the kitchen clock said 8.35. She could only have been asleep for a couple of hours and yet last night’s adrenalin was still coursing through her body.
She put the kettle on and rustled up a couple of mugs.
‘Hi.’ The voice behind her made her jump.
‘Oh. Ollie! What are you doing here?’
‘I slept on the sofa. You just walked past me.’
‘Did I? Sorry. I was miles away.’ She reached up for another mug. ‘Is Louis here?’
‘I don’t know. I was in the last vehicle. I think we dropped Jonathan at his place and then Miss Coco at hers. My memory’s a bit of a blank.’
‘Why didn’t you stay in your own room at the Starfish?’
‘Oh yeah.’ He thumped his forehead with his hand. ‘Doh. In all the excitement I suppose I … it was like being in an action movie, wasn’t it?’
Jess laughed. ‘Yeah. When all those guys appeared and grabbed us … who were they anyway?’
Ollie shrugged. ‘No idea, but what fun for Louis to have those kind of people looking out for you.’
Jess went to the fridge to get the milk. ‘There’s no milk – see if the milkman has left some on the step, would you?’
‘Sure.’ Ollie walked out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Jess heard him scream in fright and the door being banged shut. He skidded into the kitchen, empty-handed, and said, ‘I think Louis is here.’
Jess lifted the kitchen blind half a centimetre and peered out. The garden was full of reporters and photographers. One young woman in a pencil skirt and stilettos was approaching the front door. Jess let the blind drop just as the knock came.
‘Leave it,’ she hissed at Ollie as he dropped to his knees in fright.
‘But they know we’re here,’ he whispered.
‘We’ve got the kettle, a fridge full of food, a loo and the telly, so we can hole up for days,’ she whispered back, kneeling beside him.
‘We’ve got to get out to do the show though.’
‘Not till later … they won’t stay all day, will they?’
Both of them froze at the sound of the back-door handle rattling.
‘Oh my God. Who’s that?’
‘It’s me, Hutch.’
Jess and Ollie slowly straightened up.
Hutch, dressed in camouflage trousers and jacket with a black woollen beanie on his head, slipped through the door and bolted it behind him.
‘OK, here’s what we are going to do …’
Apparently, on the night they had heard noises in the garden and Hutch had spirited Louis out of the village, the perpetrators had been extra security officers who were recce-ing any escape route that their vulnerable charge might one day need. Hutch had been briefed shortly after and had just now been checking it out. The garden of Granny’s Nook backed onto the old church and its graveyard. To the left ran the narrow lane leading to Shellsand Bay and a dead end. To the right were the neighbours’ back gardens and the lane to Trevay.
‘We’re going to create two diversions. I’ve got a vehicle parking in the lane to Trevay as we speak and another is due to arrive outside the cottage. Jess, is Ryan awake?’
‘I can wake him.’
‘Good. Tell him to get dressed and come down straight away. Ollie?’
‘Yes?’
‘I want you to get dressed too. You are both about to play the role of Prince Louis.’
There was another knock at the front door. Jess flinched.
Hutch looked at her urgently. ‘You’re going to open the door and tell them he’s not here. Don’t be too good an actress. I want them to think you are lying.’
Jess held her hands to her chest and pulled her dressing gown round her more tightly. ‘OK.’
‘Wait till Ollie and I go upstairs before opening the door. We’ll get Ryan and Louis ready. Just keep them talking. You’ll know when to stop.’
‘Oh. OK.’
She watched as the two men slipped up the stairs, grateful that she’d got into the habit of shutting all the curtains at night in case Louis dropped by and any nosy neighbours came peeking.
The knock on the door sounded again, louder.
A young woman’s voice called through the letter box: ‘Brooke? Louis? I just want a quick word with you. I’m from the Daily Mirror. I can make all these other people go away if you just let me in.’
Jess took a deep breath to prepare for one of the scariest performances of her life. She opened the door just a crack. The photographers picked up their cameras and let off a volley of flashes.
‘Good morning.’ She tried to look friendly and innocent. ‘It’s awfully early. We had a very late night last night. How can I help you?’
The female journalist, who was trying to see round Jess into the cottage, replied, ‘Miss Tate, I am so pleased to meet you. I think you were wonderful in Horse Laugh, by the way.’ She was offering her hand. ‘My name’s Julia. How did the show go last night?’
Jess looked at this seemingly nice, well-mannered young woman. She had no pen or notebook in her hand, so she wasn’t making a note of this conversation. All she was holding was her phone. Curious, Jess took a closer look at the phone. ‘Are you recording our conversation?’
Julia smiled, unabashed. ‘Of course. Always recording.’
‘Isn’t it polite to let people know you are recording them?’
‘Well, you do know, so that’s all right.’ She looked over her shoulder at the press pack behind her. They were clearly in cahoots. Send in the least dangerous-looking of them to get a foot in the door and then go in like a pack of wolves. She turned back to Jess. ‘Don’t worry about them. They’ll back off just as soon as we get a quick word and a photo.’
‘Of whom?’
Julia gave a snort of derision. ‘Who do you think, Miss Tate? My editor will make sure that you, personally, get some great reviews for the show and a healthy donation to your favourite charity. Let me in and we can have a chat.’
Julia put her foot over the threshold, but Jess stood fast. ‘How much?’
‘Aw, that’s better. Like I said, let me in, Jess – I can call you Jess, can’t I? – and we’ll have a cuppa. I take it Louis is in bed? With Brooke?’
Out of the corner of her eye, Jess could see a black saloon car turning into the village from the Bodmin road. It slunk along the edges of the village green before stopping, silently, opposite the gate of Granny’s Nook. So quiet was it, that the press pack didn’t hear it.
Jess switched into acting mode, looking more nervy than she felt: ‘Well, I’ve been told to say nothing and I really don’t know much but—’
She couldn’t say more because a tall figure with a blanket covering him ran past behind her and out towards the back door. There was the sound of the door opening and then a gust of wind blew through the house.
Julia immediately dropped the pleasantries and turned to the pack: ‘The bastard’s just gone out the back way,’ she yelled.
Half the press corps turned, stumbling through the front gate, some turning left, some right. The other half stayed put, guessing that this was a ruse.
Julia stayed with them and turned back to Jess. ‘We will get him and the story, you know. We always do.’
Before Jess could answer, a strong hand gripped her shoulder from behind and pulled her back into the house. She saw two men, one covered in a blanket, the other was Hutch. They ran through the pack as two police cars, sirens and lights blaring, turned onto the village green. The officers kept the press gang at bay as the two figures jumped into the black saloon and drove off towards Bodmin.
When the car had disappeared from sight, the police officers cautioned the company of press men and escorted them away from the village.
Jess slammed the front door shut behind her.
The phone rang. It was Hutch.
‘Well done. You all right?’
‘Yes. Is Louis OK?’
‘Go upstairs and ask him.’
‘You mean he’s still here?’
‘Yeah, but not for long. I’ve got your boyfriend with me. Want a word?’
‘Hi, babe. That was rather thrilling, wasn’t it? Can’t talk – there’s a suspicious motorcyclist following us. Hutch has offered me a lift back to town …’
‘Town? You mean Trevay?’
‘No, honey, London town, so I’ll get out of your hair. Speak later, babe. Love you.’ She heard the receiver being passed over. ‘Jess? It’s Hutch. You’ve got a job to do. Listen …’
*
When Jess went upstairs, she found Brooke and Louis lying in bed watching the news. There were photos of Louis, three sheets to the wind, arriving at last night’s party. And then they cut to a picture of him hugging and kissing Brooke, while some pompous old commentator intoned, ‘The Queen will not be amused. Yes, this boy may be a lesser member of the royal family but he is a royal. This is a major embarrassment for the Palace.’
The camera cut away from the photos and back to the studio where a pretty young woman was arguing in Louis’ favour: ‘Look, this is a young man the country has taken a real shine to. He’s brave, he’s dashing and he’s behaving like one of us. Why shouldn’t he go to a party and have some fun with his girlfriend?’
The male presenter chipped in: ‘Ah, but is she his girlfriend? There are reports, not denied by the palace, that she is an old family friend and that Louis turned up to support her at the opening night of Hats Off, Trevay! – a show that’s been staged in the hope of saving a theatre in Cornwall from demolition. And from the reviews in today’s papers, it is a hit.’
Jess found the remote control and pressed the mute button.
‘Look you two, I’m on a mission – Hutch’s orders. Louis, get up. You have five minutes before the press pack come slithering back and in that time I’ve got to get you down to Shellsand Bay. We have to walk down – all three of us, ideally – as if we’re just taking a stroll. On the beach, there will be a boat that’ll get you to safety.’
Neither Brooke nor Louis moved. ‘I’ve got a hell of a headache,’ Louis groaned.
Jess had had all she could take. On the floor she spotted a pair of jeans, which she assumed belonged to Louis; she picked them up, threw them at him and shouted, ‘Just DO IT!’
*
The second performance of any show usually lacks the lustre of the opening night. It was certainly the case for Hats Off, Trevay! Poor Ollie, having been bundled out of the back door and into the car parked in the lane at the side of the churchyard, had been driven off towards Newquay, where the driver, who needed to get back to Hutch, had to leave him. It had taken Ollie over an hour to get back to Trevay and his hotel room.
Once Jess had managed to get Louis to do as he was told, she and Brooke had joined him for the walk to the beach with Elsie and Ethel in tow. They’d watched as Louis was whisked off to safety in his boat. It was all just in the nick of time, because as the girls returned to Granny’s Nook the photographers were already gathering in their cars.
A few reporters had hung around all day and followed them to the theatre, but most abandoned the stakeout, knowing the story had gone cold.
The green room was agog. As Brooke walked in, a hush fell over the company.
‘It’s OK,’ said Brooke. ‘Yes, he was here. No, he’s not here now. And that’s all I’m going to say.’
Miss Coco was the first to speak. ‘My dear, I think it’s all very exciting and marvellous publicity for the show. Have you seen the reviews?’
All the critics, even the sniffier ones, had agreed that the show was perfect for a seaside audience and offered the hope that other crumbling end-of-the-pier theatres would save themselves in a similar fashion. Ollie, Brooke and Jess got sparkling critiques, but the undisputed star, all the papers agreed, was Colonel Stick. He’d been giving interviews all day and there was talk of an important publisher wooing him for his autobiography. When he arrived at 6.45 p.m. prompt, the Colonel was met with a resounding three cheers from the entire company.