To their credit, Richard Silverman and the three Johns do a good job of covering when Luke Thornton, big-shot Hollywood director, fails to turn up the next morning. I must confess that I never thought he’d actually do it – walk off the project. No matter what I think of him personally, he’s always seemed very focused and professional.
And now, there are forty people here at my house – including actors, extras, make-up artists, costumers, runners, risk managers, assistant producers, horse handlers and stunt coordinators – all going about their business like the crew on a ship, seemingly unaware that it’s hit a rock and is about to sink like a stone.
Behind closed doors, my kitchen becomes a battleground between Richard and a group of studio executives on the other end of a phone. They have a heated conversation while I’m making my morning coffee, and while I can only hear one side of it, I quickly get the gist. The studio has put a heck of a lot of money into the project, so someone needs to find Luke right away and get the cameras rolling on schedule.
When Richard gets off the call, I hand him a mug of coffee. It’s only then that he seems to notice that I’ve been there all along. Before he can shout at me, I tell him about the argument I overheard between Luke and Phillipa.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ he says. ‘So this is just some damn lovers’ tiff.’
I rewind the conversation back in my head, wondering if this could be the case. The first time I saw them together, Luke has seemed a changed man – solicitous and attentive. And from my subsequent conversations with her, I gather that Phillipa is after her own ‘happy ending’ befitting her status as a romance author. But is Luke on board with her plans? ‘I did it for you’, he’d said last night. Done what? Taken on the project? Returned to Tanglewild? Or something else entirely? The words screech in my head like fingernails on a blackboard.
‘I don’t know, Richard,’ I say. ‘But maybe if you ask Phillipa to take a few days off from the set, he might come back.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ He checks the large-faced watch on his wrist. ‘We’re losing thousands as we speak. I’m going to find the bastard.’
He stalks out of the house and, a few minutes later, roars off on his motorbike. I go out to the marquee where I can sense tension around the food table – and rumours spreading that the ship might have sprung a leak. Annie, one of the assistant producers, sits at one of the long tables with her computer, revising the call sheet to reschedule the scenes that have already been missed this morning. Dominic Kennedy, his hair wild for the ‘master rides through the gates on his horse scene’, chain-smokes an entire packet of cigarettes just outside the tent, mumbling his lines.
Not long after Richard leaves, Connie comes through the gate like the vibe has disturbed whatever she’s been getting up to in the caravan. Instead of coming up to me, she goes straight over to Dominic. They have a little tête-à-tête and I see her pass him something silver – a flask. He takes a sip. Catching my eye, Connie gives me a conspiratorial wink.
Knowing what I know, I too feel jumpy and on edge. How can Luke let everyone down like this? Can Richard and the executive producers possibly sort it? What happens if they can’t?
I hover around for what seems like an eternity but is probably no more than half an hour. I’m so wrapped up in worrying that I practically burn my hand making a cup of tea when Phillipa enters the tent.
‘Hello,’ she says, addressing Annie. ‘Can I get a copy of the call sheet?’ She points at the computer screen.
‘Um sure, Phillipa,’ Annie replies. ‘I’m just revising it – we’ve had a little blip this morning.’
‘Well, whenever you’re done, I’ll take a copy.’ Phillipa smiles at her, and walks up to me. ‘You all right, Lizzie?’ She puts a companionable hand on my arm and smiles. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, fine.’ As soon as she gets her coffee, I steer her outside the tent. ‘I’m not sure if you know, but Luke didn’t turn up today.’ I keep my voice low.
A cloud darkens her face for less than a second. ‘Really? How unlike him.’
‘Listen, Phillipa…’ I say, taking a breath. Since it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell her, I feel it’s my duty. Richard and his fellow studio executives may have millions riding on this production, but I’ve got a stake in it too – a big one. Especially after last night, when I burned my bridges with Harry. ‘I overheard you and Luke arguing.’ I hold up a hand. ‘Not the details, mind. But enough to hear him threaten to walk off. Which seems to have happened.’
She laughs, giving no sign that my words have upset her. ‘You’re right, Lizzie, we did have a silly argument. About who the film should be dedicated to, of all things.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘I wrote the book in honour of an old friend. Someone, I fear, that Luke would rather forget.’
‘That’s it? He’d walk away for that?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so – not really. But he’s a man – arrogant and vulnerable at the same time. He needs to feel appreciated. He’ll want Richard Silverman and the other executive producers to beg a little. Grovel. And I guess he’ll expect me to do a little grovelling too.’
‘Is your “friend” the reason he hates this house?’ I shoot from the dark.
She studies me for a second too long. ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she says. Her eyes dart down to her watch. ‘Give him a little time – he’ll be back.’ She takes a last sip of her coffee and throws the paper cup in the bin. ‘Now, I really ought to be getting on. I’ve got piles of notes that need adding to the screenplay. And I’m going to think of a way to work Katie into the script. It probably won’t be a big part, mind you. Just a kitchen maid or something like that. But I’ll give her a line or two. I’m sure she’ll have a great time.’
‘Really, Phillipa,’ I say, ‘with all this bother, don’t feel you have to. I don’t want to make things worse.’
She smiles. ‘Well, it might be best to wait a bit before telling Luke. Let me work out the details of the script first. But really, I think it will be fine. Luke has bigger problems to contend with, I think.’
Before I can ask her what she means, there’s a small commotion at the gate. Luke Thornton comes through, with Theo and Voldemort on either side, frogmarching him back onto the set.
‘See,’ Phillipa says breezily. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘OK,’ I say, feeling a knot of tension inside me giving way to relief.
Luke breaks away from the other two men and comes into the tent. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he says to everyone assembled, offering no excuse or explanation. He turns to one of his assistants. ‘We’ll start with Scene 54 in ten minutes.’ Several people hurry off to convey the order. Luke comes up to Phillipa and me, his eyes looking glazed over. ‘Sorry Pippa,’ he says under his breath. He gives her a kiss that doesn’t quite meet her cheek.
‘Oh go on with you.’ She pats him playfully on the arm.
He looks at me, and once again, I catch a glimpse of something tortured in those eyes. But only for a second. Then he turns brusquely, barks an order at Annie to print him out the revised call sheet, and walks towards the house.
As soon as he’s gone, Theo comes up to us. ‘Whew,’ he says. ‘Crisis averted – I think. Can I get you ladies a coffee?’
‘No thanks, Theo, I’ve had one,’ Phillipa says. ‘Now that everything’s back on track, would you mind proofing some revisions this morning?’
‘Not at all,’ he says eagerly.
Phillipa turns to me. ‘Is it still OK if we use Jack’s room?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Good. Thanks. You get yourself a coffee,’ she says to Theo. ‘I’ll go and get myself sorted.’
As soon as she’s walked off in the direction of the house, leaving me and Theo standing at the food table, I feel a cloud of awkwardness descend. We haven’t spoken, or had much contact other than the brief exchange of texts. It’s a shame really, because I do like him. He’s very genuine and open – so much so, that he can’t quite hide his embarrassment at being left there with me.
‘Hi Theo. Coffee? Looks like you need one.’ I smile companionably, trying to put him at ease.
‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘I think I do. This business with Luke…’ he shakes his head. ‘Let’s just say, he didn’t come willingly.’
‘Luke’s a pain.’ I spoon some instant coffee into a cup and fill it with hot water. ‘But at least he’s here. And anyway, it sounds like your job is going well,’ I say with a smile.
‘It is. It’s really interesting work – and I’m learning so much.’ I don’t think he realises that he’s gushing.
‘I’m glad for you,’ I say, meaning it. I hand him the cup and pass the milk.
‘And Lizzie,’ he says, looking solemn, ‘I’m sorry we haven’t spoken. And I’m sorry if… well… I came on too strong.’
‘Please don’t apologise.’ I lay my hand on his arm. ‘I was just… a little overwhelmed.’
‘I understand – and you were right. I think that now, with the project in full swing, it might be better to wait – before, you know, taking things any further—’
‘It’s OK, Theo.’ I remove my hand and take a step back from him. ‘You don’t need to pretend. I get the idea that your feelings lie… shall we say… elsewhere.’
He blushes to the roots of his hair. ‘Is it that obvious?’
I laugh. ‘Now that I’ve met her, I completely understand. The rest of us can’t possibly compete.’
‘It’s not that, Lizzie,’ he says. ‘I mean, Phillipa’s wonderful, but I don’t know… maybe it’s her feelings that lie elsewhere.’
‘Maybe.’ Once again, I feel an odd pang in my stomach as I think about how assured Phillipa seems about Luke. Whatever this issue is over the ‘friend’ and the dedication, it doesn’t sound like anything insurmountable. And it’s just like Luke to blow hot and cold – one minute acting aloof, and the next giving her that rare smile that transforms his face…
Theo swirls the liquid around in his cup with a stirrer, and swallows hard, like he’s unhappy that I’ve affirmed his own suspicions.
‘I really do like you a lot, Lizzie,’ he says finally. ‘You’re beautiful and clever, and any man would be lucky to have you. But right now, I’m not sure I’m the man for the job.’
‘I appreciate your being honest.’
‘Good,’ he takes a long swig of his coffee. ‘Thanks. I hope we can be friends.’
‘Friends – of course.’ It might not be what I’d hoped for originally, but surely, anything is better than being awkward.
‘And now, I’d better get on. Can’t keep the lady waiting, can I?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Thanks, Lizzie,’ he says.
He turns and walks away to join Phillipa at the house. Watching him go, I can’t help but recall the scene in the book where Victoria Easterbrook is betrayed by Tom, her first love. She was driven to despair – running away to take a job as a servant, and even attempting suicide. But, ultimately, she went on to bigger and better things – Idyllwild Manor and the arms of William Clarke.
As I make myself another cup of bitter instant coffee and watch the film crew scurrying around to meet Luke’s ten-minute call, I think about how much easier it would be if I, like Victoria, had my destiny written down in the pages of a book. But would it be a happy ending? Right now, I don’t have the slightest clue.