I’m giddy with nerves as I dodge the obstacle course of paint equipment and rolls of flooring in the great hall, put on my coat and go out the front door. There’s no sign of Theo in the front garden – or much of the front garden itself. Half of the lawn is now covered with a vast white marquee. I think the plan is to use the marquee as a kind of green room for the cast to hang out in between scenes – with food tables, make-up stations, and wi-fi – because the house isn’t big enough to accommodate the fifty or so people who will be on set each day.
The gate that leads to the side garden is open. Part of the film is going to be shot in the woods near the lake, so there’s been a fair amount of coming and going between the house and the spot they’ve chosen. As I go through the gate and around the hedge, I practically collide with a man. ‘Oh!’ I cry, stumbling backwards. It’s not Theo, but Luke Thornton.
He grabs my arm to steady me, his grip hard. He gives me an odd look like I’m a stranger he doesn’t recognise. I’m aware that this is the first time anyone on set has seen me wearing make-up or taking care with my appearance. His eyes remind me of the photo I saw of him on the steps of the divorce court. A wild, wounded creature ready to lash out at anything near it.
I pull away from him.
‘Going out?’ There’s an edge to his voice. He doesn’t know me – know anything about me. So why does he look so angry?
‘Oh hi, Lizzie, sorry – we were tied up on something.’ Theo appears from the gap in the hedge that leads to the rose garden and walks towards me, smiling. ‘Wow,’ he says, ‘you look so nice.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, blushing.
Theo hasn’t made the special effort that I have, but he’s wearing a nice pair of jeans and a plaid button-down shirt. I force myself to smile at him, but I’m all too aware of Luke Thornton looking from Theo to me and back again, and realisation dawning. I feel completely flustered and uncomfortable.
‘No rush,’ I say. ‘I… um, just let me know when you’re ready to go.’
I will myself to turn and leave – anything to be away from Luke and that judgemental stare.
‘Sorry,’ Luke says to Theo. ‘I didn’t know you two were —’
‘We’re going for dinner at the pub,’ Theo clarifies. ‘Do you want to come along?’
There’s a long silent pause. My heart sinks like a block of cement. Have I got this all wrong? Is this really just a trip down the pub between two might-be friends, when I was thinking – or at least wanted to think – that it might be more than that?
‘No, thanks,’ Luke says. ‘I wouldn’t be welcome.’
Obviously that’s my cue to protest. Say that of course it’s fine. We’ll all go together like three mates. But I am done being polite. The last thing in the world that I want is for Luke Thornton to come with us. I turn to Theo. ‘Well, then, shall we go?’
‘Sure. Let me just finish up here, and I’ll meet you at the car.’
‘Great.’ This time, I break the paralysis, turn and walk off. But not before I hear Luke say to Theo in a voice that’s obviously meant for me to hear. ‘You know the main bedroom is part of the set now. So it’s strictly off limits.’
I feel a twitching in my hand – I wish I could go back and punch him in the face. I continue walking to the car, regretting my outfit, my agreeing to go out with Theo, my signing up to the film project, and most of all, regretting ever having met Luke Thornton.
*
‘Sorry about that,’ Theo says. When he comes to the car about five minutes later, he acts the perfect gentleman by opening the passenger door for me. In the meantime, I’ve been pacing the drive kicking stones and scuffing the toes of my shoes.
‘It’s fine.’
To his credit, Theo seems to sense that’s it’s not fine – not at all. ‘Just for the record, Lizzie, I only invited Luke along because I didn’t want to be awkward,’ Theo says. He gets into the driver’s seat. ‘And I knew he’d say no.’
‘I’m glad he did,’ I say. ‘He’s so unpleasant.’
Theo laughs as he starts the car and pulls out of the drive. ‘I know he can come across that way. It’s a shame because he’s actually a good guy once you get to know him. He can really inspire a team and coax the best performances out of everyone. This isn’t really his kind of project, but he had a pretty bad time a few years back. You’ve probably seen the tabloids.’
‘Yes, I’ve seen the articles,’ I say. ‘And people keep telling me what a good guy he is. But I’ve seen no sign of it myself.’
Theo glances over at me. ‘I hope you’re not regretting taking on the project and meeting all of us.’
I look at him and smile. His profile is steady and solid as we drive along the narrow, tree-lined lanes towards civilisation. Now that we’re away from the house I’m starting to feel a lot more relaxed. ‘Well, maybe not all of you.’
*
Like most of the pubs in the area, the one he takes me to is posh. It’s called The White Swan and is in a refurbished mill with a small stream running underneath it. Part of the wooden floor has been replaced with glass so that the workings of the mill and the waterwheel are visible, along with the occasional tame swan floating along the stream below. There’s a cosy log fire in the main room, with an area of sofas, little tables and board games. On the other side of the long oak bar are tables set with linen napkins, crystal wine glasses, and candles in glass lanterns. I’m prepared to sit by the fire, but Theo surprises me by having booked a table. It makes me feel quite a bit better.
He pulls the chair out for me to sit down. When we’re both seated, the waiter comes over to take our drinks order. I order a glass of red, Theo orders white. I like the way he’s polite and solicitous – something I’m not used to. I like his reddish-brown hair, and his deep-set brown eyes. Overall, he makes a good impression – open and friendly, appealing, but not drop-dead gorgeous. Which is just as well. The memory of Luke Thornton’s angry glare comes slamming back like a physical force. It takes me a moment to wrestle him from my mind.
‘It’s a nice pub,’ Theo says, looking around him. ‘I like the little touches. To be honest, I’ve always been a city boy. But I’m definitely starting to appreciate the charms of the countryside.’ The way he says it… that hint of a smile… I blush warmly. We talk about the local area and how Dave and I came to find the house. Our wine arrives. He sniffs his and swirls his glass by the stem before drinking. I wonder if I ought to do the same, but instead just take a big gulp. He’s easy to talk to, and I’m liking him more and more. The brief mention of Dave brings on a little pang of guilt – especially considering that it’s only one day on from the anniversary. But I push it aside. Dave is gone, and I’m getting on with my life.
Inevitably, though, the conversation steers to a different topic – Phillipa King. ‘I asked her about Tanglewild,’ he says, ‘after we spoke.’
‘Oh?’
‘Her stepmum owned it, apparently. That’s why Phillipa was there. She went to boarding school during term time, but she stayed there in the summer. I suppose, years later, when she was writing the book, the place stuck in her mind.’
‘That makes sense. It has that effect.’ I’m relieved to have finally got to the bottom of Phillipa’s connection with the house. ‘But what about Luke Thornton?’
‘Luke?’ He looks puzzled.
‘Apparently he knows the house too. It can’t be a coincidence.’
‘Well, they know each other, of course. She’s doing the screenplay, and naturally, he’s involved with that too. And Phillipa has many friends and contacts. She’s always travelling around doing book tours and signings. And now, the film. She’s at the top of her game.’ His face grows a little flushed as he talks about her.
‘I’m sure,’ I say flatly. ‘Though, I admit, I’m not a huge fan of bodice-ripping romance novels.’
He looks surprised at my comment, and for a second I’m sorry I’ve been so catty.
‘But the book is more than that, don’t you think?’ he asserts. ‘It’s got hidden depths – it’s a social commentary on the plight of women. Victoria is trapped by her time and situation, but she manages to break free. I’m helping Phillipa revise the screenplay. It’s given me a whole new insight into just how complex the book really is.’
‘To be honest, I haven’t finished it yet.’
‘That makes sense then. You know what they say about judging a book by its cover.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
It’s a relief when the waitress finally comes and takes our order. When she’s gone, I deliberately change the subject.
‘So, Theo,’ I say, ‘I’d love to know more about you.’
‘There’s not much to tell,’ he says with a little laugh.
‘Try me.’
I sip my wine as he tells me about his childhood growing up in a suburb of Boston. Two sisters and a brother, typical middle-class Irish-Catholic upbringing. The family went to the movie theatre every Saturday afternoon (and twice a year to see the Red Sox), and he grew to love films. When his grandmother died, the family inherited some money. Theo was able to live his dream of going to California and doing a postgraduate degree at UCLA film school. He stayed in LA, got a job at a studio, and worked his way up the totem pole. He had a long-time relationship with a girl who worked as an extra in films. They talked about getting married, moving out to the suburbs; having a house, kids. But she wasn’t ready to give up her Hollywood lifestyle. Eventually they split and the production company transferred him to London. He’s into rock climbing, golf, and though he’d never heard of cricket in his life before coming across the pond, he’s now the star batsman on his local team.
It’s interesting to hear about his life, but other than the film, we seem to have little in common. Since I haven’t been on a date in years, I don’t know how much that matters. I suppose Dave and I had a few things in common at the start. We shared a profession and a common set of stresses. We were both into travel and London culture. We both liked history, and old houses. In the end, though, those things weren’t enough. Bringing Dave to mind inevitably pokes a hole in my mood. Theo seems to sense that the conversation is starting to flag.
‘There is one other thing about me – but it’s kind of a secret,’ he says. ‘I don’t really tell many people, because it’s a little embarrassing.’
‘Oh?’ I lean forward, ‘do tell.’
‘When I first came to London, I was at a bit of a crossroads. I didn’t know anyone, and I missed my life in LA more than I thought I would. I ended up taking some night courses in creative writing,’ he says. ‘It was something I always wanted to do. Now, I’m working on a novel.’
‘A novel?’ I say, my interest sparked. ‘Why is that embarrassing? It sounds great.’
He takes a sip of his drink. ‘It’s great, in theory. But when you say you’re a writer, most people ask you what you’ve published, whether you’re famous, and why haven’t they heard of you. When you tell them that you’re working on your first novel, they glaze over. So normally, I just keep it to myself.’
‘I think it sounds very exciting. And difficult too. What sort of novel is it?’
‘It’s a crime novel,’ he says. ‘A dead girl, a jaded police detective, everyone with different motives to lie.’
‘Interesting,’ I say. ‘That’s the kind of book I like to read.’
‘Really?’ Theo looks pleasantly surprised, and even a little relieved.
‘Yes, really.’ In truth, the novel thing has definitely given Theo a few more points in my book. I’ve never aspired to be a writer, but I love to read.
‘Phillipa is helping me with the structure and pacing,’ he says. ‘Hiding clues in the text, red herrings and misdirection – that sort of thing.’
‘Does she have aspirations to be the next Robert Galbraith?’ I joke. ‘I wouldn’t think there’d be much call for that sort of thing in romance novels.’
‘Well, she has such a clever mind…’
I give him a look.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I do go on a bit, don’t I?’
We both laugh and the ice seems broken between us. Our food arrives, and all of a sudden I feel quite hungry. We have a little flirtation over him giving me a bite of his crab cakes and me giving him a taste of my steak and ale pie. I have a second glass of wine and he has a beer. We discuss books and films. He tells me a little more about his location scouting job, and some of the more interesting scenes he’s had to set – from Victorian brothels to tower block crack houses. The conversation turns to the finer points of The Lady’s Secret – including which room is going to be used for which seduction scene, and how much rehearsal time will be needed in the bed. It’s all very jokey and light. And when at one point, he reaches out his hand and lightly brushes my fingers, curled around the stem of my glass, I feel pleasantly warm but not pressured.
‘Would you like another drink?’ he says, as our empty plates are cleared away.
‘Oh no,’ I say. ‘I’m already a bit tipsy.’ I smile decadently, allowing myself a moment’s fantasy of where the evening might lead.
‘Maybe some hot chocolate, then?’ he suggests, ‘When Phillipa and I came here, she said the hot chocolate was amazing. Dark, Belgian, frothy—’
The words slam into me, and all of a sudden, I’m completely sober. ‘You came here with Phillipa?’
‘Yes.’ Theo smiles. ‘When she interviewed me for the job as her assistant.’
I feel a crawling sense of jealousy – not about Theo and Phillipa, per se, but because I was having a good time, and now feel like second-hand goods. Part of me knows it’s ridiculous to feel jealous. He knew of a good restaurant and took me there on our date. But the insecure part of me – the part that fears I’ll never be able to compete with a bestselling novelist who is also his mentor – feels duped and ashamed.
‘Oh, well, she has good taste in restaurants,’ I say blandly. ‘I’ll pass on the hot chocolate though.’
As if on cue, the waitress comes by and asks if we’d like anything else. Theo glances at me and I shake my head. ‘Just the bill,’ he says. I reach for my handbag to find my credit card, but he holds up his hand. ‘My treat.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile, trying to recapture the anticipation I felt for the remainder of the evening. But for me, at least, it seems to have fizzled out.
‘Are you OK, Lizzie?’ Theo says when the bill is paid and I’ve stood up to put on my coat.
‘I’m fine, really.’ I put my hand lightly on his arm. ‘It’s been such a lovely evening. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ He puts his hand on mine.
Outside the pub, the night sky is clear and full of stars. We pause for a moment, looking up. The moment feels nice – romantic…
‘Of course, you can always ask Phillipa yourself about restaurant recommendations,’ he says, opening the door for me as we reach the car. ‘She’ll be on set tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes. She’ll be around quite a bit from now on. It’s her first screenplay – mine too. It’s quite exciting. But there’s a lot of work involved.’
‘I’m sure.’
He drives me home down the dark road, talking about the different versions of the screenplay that are required for the technical and artistic functions. But all I can think about is Phillipa King. Even though I’ve already become acquainted with big names like Luke Thornton and Dominic Kennedy, I feel daunted by the prospect of meeting her. It’s not just the fact that she’s an international bestselling author – though that’s part of it, surely. Maybe it’s that her book, with its main character that I’ve come to empathise with, has made me feel like a stranger in my own home. It’s almost like there’s a ghost walking the rooms and corridors of my house with her own thoughts, worries and feelings, while my children and I are getting on with our lives in a parallel universe. And tomorrow, I’ll finally meet the ghost’s creator. Though I’m sure she’ll have more important things to do than have a coffee and a chit-chat with me.
When we reach the house, there’s a single light on in the wing above the kitchen. Katie must have tried to wait up for me. I feel an overwhelming surge of love for her. My buzz from the wine is completely gone, and in its place is a thick lump in my throat.
‘Here we are,’ Theo says. His voice is low and husky. I realise that I’ve been sitting in the car for almost a minute, not getting out. He’s looking over at me, as if unsure what to do next.
‘Um, would you like to come in?’ I blurt out nervously.
‘Would you like me to?’
‘Of course. It’s just…’
Two little words… It’s just that my mother-in-law is in the house, along with my kids. It’s just that the main bedroom is part of the film set and ‘strictly off limits’. It’s just that Phillipa King is coming tomorrow. The temporary bond Theo and I shared over his writing; talking about books and the project, seems overstretched and fragile. There are too many ‘it’s just…’s.
‘I understand,’ he says, before I elaborate. ‘And there’s no rush, Lizzie. I want you to know that.’
‘Thanks,’ I stammer, feeling tears close to the surface.
He gets out of the car, comes round to my side, and opens the door. I take his hand and he helps me out. I appreciate him all the more now that he’s leaving…
I’m a little surprised when he doesn’t let go of my hand, but instead pulls me slowly but steadily to him. I offer no resistance. This is what I want. Romance, a nice dinner, a nice man. It’s an unfamiliar feeling as his lips touch mine. It’s been so long since Dave and I… I push Dave from my mind. I make a conscious decision to respond. But despite his assurance of ‘there’s no rush’, the kiss starts to get a little heated and for a second I worry that he’s after a Victoria Easterbrook/William Clarke moment. My body starts to recoil at the idea of being touched, and I break my lips free from his.
‘I… can’t…’ I say.
‘Of course.’ His voice is cool as he holds up his hands and steps back. ‘No worries. I should be going anyway. Big day tomorrow.’
He walks back around the car and gets in.
‘Yes,’ I say, but he’s already closed the door. He turns on the engine and reverses the car.
‘Big day,’ I whisper to the red tail lights as they disappear down the drive.