Chapter Fifteen

A laugh bubbled out of me as my hands grasped his shirt to steady myself. I had one swift taste of him, and then he froze and drew slowly back from me, his eyes searching my face quite seriously, a pink blush glowing on his cheeks. I smiled at him gently.

“Sorry, Kelsey. I shouldn’t have—”

I interrupted him, waving a hand. “It’s fine, Tom! Really.” And it was. My first real kiss in years. I resisted the impulse to run my fingertips across my lips. I could still feel the firm, warm pressure of his mouth.

He released me, and we settled into the car.

“I am sorry, love. Really. That was un—”

“Don’t you dare apologize for including me in your excitement!” I pointed an accusatory finger at him, narrowing my eyes. “I’m excited too, you know! To see it all beginning to come together for you! It’s going to be brilliant!”

Tom’s face cleared, open and happy once more. He squeezed my hand briefly, and then he was off, raving about how perfect the location would be, how he wanted the shots framed. I was happy to listen to him as I drove us back to the village.

It hadn’t been a sexual kiss, just a spontaneous gesture of enthusiasm and affection. I was happy to have shared that with him. When he’d pulled away, though, there had been a spark of something else in his eyes, a sudden appreciation of me as a woman. It felt like a very long time since anyone had looked at me with that kind of awareness, even briefly. It felt good.

“So how’s everything else going?” I asked as we drove. We were still about thirty minutes away from home.

“Great! I called in a few favors. If we can make scheduling work, I think I have my actors. I also have a cameraman ready to go. I think I need a professional touch there, although he doesn’t do cinematography, so I may call on your eye—if that’s all right, love?”

“Fine.” I smiled.

“I’ve ordered some props and set dressings, others I’ve reserved with a prop house. So I think we’re all set there. We’re sorted location-wise. One scene set will be the beach, if we have a clear day, and I’m hoping we do. Mum’s agreed to let me use her living room, dining room, and garden, and the café has agreed to let us shoot there for one day. The wedding scene will be filmed outside the church at the end of the lane, so once I’ve confirmed this church, I’m ninety percent there.”

“Except for the actual filming.”

“Well yes, except for that!” He laughed.

“And the editing.”

He laughed harder. “I know this is just a twenty-minute short, but I’m certainly gaining a new appreciation for my directors!”

“Steven Spielberg will be thrilled,” I teased him.

“Maybe.” He chuckled. “Should I have my PA send him a letter telling him he needs to up his game?”

“Sure!” I laughed. “You weren’t planning on working again, right?”

***

On New Year’s Eve, I told Tom and Diane I’d meet them at the bar for the quiz night, just so it didn’t look like we were going on a date with his mum as chaperone.

I opted to wear another of my fifties dresses, the wraparound, emerald-green one I found while shopping for the premiere. It looked perfect on me. My bob could use a trim, but I was thinking that maybe it was time for a different look—something a bit longer and maybe with layers?

I went a little darker with my makeup, and I wore my “evening perfume”—a warm, spicy, vanilla one—rather than my more floral daytime scent.

I walked to the bar since it wasn’t far. Everyone was already merry by the time I got there, creating a great atmosphere.

Bridget was also coming. She, along with Tom and Diane, were already there and had secured a table for us.

Tom was still in his sweatpants—his regular trousers probably didn’t fit anymore—but he was in a lovely blue cashmere jumper that was begging to be touched. He had neatly trimmed his beard scruff for the occasion.

They’d already ordered me a white wine, so we ordered some bar food and chatted until the quiz was ready to start.

Tom, of course, was a bloody know-it-all, although he blushed terribly when I teased him about his knowledge. He was pretty much useless at science, which was where I shone. Between Bridget, Diane, and I, we aced all the art questions. As a team, we got all the music and literature questions right. Thanks to Tom, we got all the film questions—the man knows his craft! We did get a geography question wrong, but then again, who knew that the City of San Marino is the capital of the Republic of San Marino? I don’t even know where San Marino is!

For once I was grateful for my accounting degree, as one of the general knowledge questions was about the accounting format that displays debits, credits, balances, and headings. It’s called a T-account. I’m not sure it was worth three years of study to be able to reply correctly, but it felt good in the moment!

Sport was, hands down, our worst category. Tom knew one answer—apparently the racetrack known as the Green Hell is the Nürburgring. Diane remembered that the year the Olympic Games were boycotted by most African countries was 1976, but we still got three of the five wrong.

“Next year we bring a sports buff,” I said during a break.

“Seconded,” Diane added. “All in favor?”

Tom and Bridget both raised a hand and said, “Aye!”

“Motion carried!” Diane declared, and we all laughed.

It was nearly ten o’clock by the time they announced the results, and it turned out that by one point, our team had won! We were presented with a bottle of prosecco.

We continued chatting among ourselves, with people stopping by the table sometimes to congratulate us or wish us a Happy New Year. It was an awful lot of people, actually. Some none of us seemed to know very well—then I realized that it was because of Tom. No one was too intrusive, though. I was fine until I saw Alice and Donna enter; the girls who got me fired! They looked around until they spotted Tom.

Dammit, what the hell would they try on New Year’s?

Whatever happens, don’t get involved, was my first thought. I was 90 percent sure they had been the ones vandalizing my car. They hadn’t done anything since I’d started parking on Diane’s driveway, so I hadn’t erected a camera to watch over it. I simply didn’t want to give them a reason to target me again.

Turning back to our table, I gulped my drink, dreading the coming confrontation. I could feel my shoulders curling in on themselves, trying to make my body smaller, invisible.

“Kelsey?” I glanced up at Diane’s low, concerned tone. Her sharp blue eyes had honed in on my defensive posture. She looked up and immediately spotted the two horrible young women, her eyes narrowing and mouth thinning. She stood decisively with a polite “Excuse me.” Tom looked up from his laughing conversation with Bridget.

“Mum?” he questioned, his brow quirking.

Diane smiled down at him and patted his shoulder reassuringly before moving away. Bridget recaptured his attention with some remark, but all my attention was on Diane as she approached the poisonous witches. I’d seen that look of determination on Diane’s face before, and it did not bode well for the young women.

Diane planted herself in front of them, blocking their path to Tom. I couldn’t quite hear what she was saying to them, but she crossed her arms and looked formidable. They both had the grace to look embarrassed. The real troublemaker of the two looked defiant for a moment but quickly deflated in the face of Diane’s implacability.

Part of me wanted to confront them about what they’d done to me with the bad reviews and the vandalism, but I couldn’t. Why could I stand up to them on Tom’s behalf, but not my own?

The next thing I knew, they were approaching our table. I discreetly wiped my sweaty palms on my dress as I tried not to show my discomfort.

“Tom, love?” Diane touched his shoulder, and he looked up. “Would you mind taking a quick picture with these ladies?”

I saw recognition flash across his features as he looked up at the women, but he evidently decided not to argue with his mother. He stood up and I noticed Diane reach out for Tom’s phone, which I thought was odd. I watched in increasing confusion as she snapped pictures of the three of them on his phone.

“There!” She smiled after taking a few, handing the phone back to Tom. “Off you go, girls. Enjoy your evening.” Her words were polite, but her tone was firm. Only once the girls had left did Diane sit back down.

“Mum?” Tom asked in a singsong voice that said he was looking forward to her explanation.

“What?” she asked, her face the picture of innocence.

“What was that about?” he pressed.

Diane smiled wickedly. “Those are the women who have been harassing our lovely Kelsey here. When I saw them making a beeline for you, I told them that you would take a picture with them but only on your phone. If nothing happens to Kelsey or her belongings for the next six months, you’ll post it on Instagram and Twitter as a fan pic. If anything untoward happens, you’ll post it just to let the world know they’ve been harassing a friend of yours.”

I had to admit that was clever. I never knew Diane was so devious! Getting a picture with Tom wasn’t unheard of—the few times someone had approached him since he’d been in the village, he’d always agreed, usually with a smile and even on his bad days. But getting Tom to post a picture with you? That was an honor few fans had received.

It felt a little like rewarding bad behavior, but if it meant they left me alone, I was okay with that.

And the revenge? Tom wouldn’t even need to give their names out—I knew his fans would swarm in and do the digging for that information. Every celebrity had loyal fans. I’d read enough articles about the Beyhive and the Whovians to know that fans were a force to be reckoned with if they felt their celebrity had been slighted. I doubted Tom’s differed much in that respect.

“Marvelous idea.” Tom beamed at his mum.

I sought out the women in the crowd again. I could see them scowling, but they were heading for the exit, which was good.

“Well, they both walked away with faces like a slapped arse, so you must have done something right!” Bridget said with a giggle. We all fell about, laughing.

Oh, I hoped it worked. Not that they were a huge annoyance in my life, but they were an annoyance. A costly one at times too!

As midnight approached, we opened the bottle of prosecco that we won in the quiz. We poured glasses so we had something to toast with.

“Three, two, one! Happy New Year!” the bar collectively shouted. Many glasses were clinked, and then we all kissed and hugged. We joined hands and sang “Auld Lang Syne.” The feeling of Tom’s hand in mine was sublime. Warm and soft and dry. He had lovely hands.

And could I be any more juvenile? I was obsessing over his hands now!

Then people separated for a while to call friends and family and wish them a Happy New Year.

I called my parents, then rejoined the table. Tom and Diane had called Tom’s siblings. Bridget’s daughter was abroad, so she had sent a text. So that was everyone.

“Any resolutions?” Bridget asked.

“Get this leg fixed and get back to work,” Tom said.

“I’m finally going to learn pottery,” Diane added, casting a pleading look at Bridget. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

“I’d love to. And what about you?” Bridget asked me.

“I don’t really do resolutions,” I hedged.

“Why ever not?”

“Just a choice.” I shrugged, not wanting to rain on anyone’s parade.

“There must be something,” Diane pressed.

“I don’t know . . . to get my work shown in a gallery?” I said hesitantly.

“Now that one I fully support!” She smiled. “Let me know if you want any help.” It was easy to see where Tom got his enthusiasm.

“I will.”

We raised our glasses and clinked them, a joint toast to all our resolutions.

Diane decided to head home then but assured us we were to stay. We all got involved in talking. Bridget got herself an invitation to be an extra in Tom’s film, partly because he’s a pushover but mostly because she said she had outfits that would look authentic. She also agreed to ask around for any friends who wouldn’t mind being extras.

We left at about one in the morning, all walking because we lived nearby. Bridget lived on the front, so was spared the town steps. She left us with many well wishes and effusive thanks for a fun evening.

“So what’s your real resolution?” Tom asked as we strolled toward home.

“Well . . .” I swallowed down my fears. “I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time I started dating again.”

“Oh?” He sounded amused. “And did you have anyone in mind?”

The bastard was playing with me! Well, two could play at that game.

“There is someone I like.”

“Anyone I know?”

“You’ve never met him.” And technically that was true, because you can’t meet yourself!

“Is he good-looking?”

“Eh, he’s all right—if you like the hind end of a donkey.”

“That bad?” He winced playfully.

“Well, I like donkeys, so I don’t think it’s bad.”

“And what do you think you might like to do?”

“Well, I wondered about asking him around tomorrow. We could have dinner together, then watch the second part of that mystery miniseries.”

“Candlelight?”

“Obviously.”

“Soft, romantic music?”

“Of course.”

“Then any man who would turn you down is a fool.”

“Great, so I’ll see you at seven?”

“Seven it is!” He laughed.