‘Bloody hell!’ Jess sank back into her chair. ‘When’s he coming next?’
‘I’m not sure. He’s away on a photo shoot in Europe somewhere and then there’s a family gig he has to show his face at … so … maybe next week.’
‘Does he know I’m staying here now?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Is it going to be a problem?’
Brooke rubbed her hand across her forehead. ‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t think so.’
‘You’d better tell him.’
‘Yeah.’
*
Jess remained on tenterhooks, worrying every evening when she got in from rehearsal that she might find Louis there, and worrying each morning, lest she bump into him coming out of the bathroom. However, her worrying was in vain. Of Louis there was no sight. Apparently he was off on an African jaunt with cousins.
Jess had realised within a very short space of moving in that Brooke’s persona was just that: a persona. Underneath the megawatt smile she seemed to be one big bundle of nerves and jitters; it promised to be a tiring combination to live with. To cheer her up, next morning Jess suggested cooking something special for their supper.
‘I’ll pop into the farm shop on the way home. I thought perhaps a steak? Some salad and a jacket potato?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Once you smell it, you’ll want some.’
‘I’m not that hungry.’
‘’Course you’re not – you’ve just had breakfast.’ Jess looked round the small kitchen. Brooke had managed to spread toast crumbs over every conceivable surface. They were not only on the work surface by the toaster, but also on the bread board, the kitchen table and down the front of Brooke’s pyjamas. There was also a buttery knife left standing up in the Marmite jar, a cold teabag leaking on the draining board, a milk bottle on the table, its foil lid on the floor, and a congealed dishcloth lying in the bottom of the stained sink. Jess took all of this in and marvelled at how Brooke had managed to wreak such havoc in such a short space of time. She picked up the foil lid from the floor and began to tidy up.
It seemed that her new roommate was oblivious to mugs of cold coffee left by the sofa or the pairs of old knickers stepped out of and left on the bathroom floor. Already Jess was having trouble accepting this level of mess. By nature she was a neat freak and took positive pleasure in swilling bleach round the sink and down the loo. A full washing machine on a hot cycle made her feel everything was right with the world. Her bed was always made every morning and her clothes were hung up each night. She vacuumed every day, concerned that Brooke might spot any stray, muddy paw mark or dog hair of Ethel and Elsie’s.
Giving the table a final wipe she rinsed the now spotless dishcloth in hot water and wrung it out before hanging it neatly over the taps. ‘So, shall I get a couple of steaks? It’ll do you good.’
Brooke stood up and stretched. A blizzard of toast crumbs landed on the floor tiles. ‘Can I take a rain check? Only, Louis might call.’
‘OK,’ said Jess, reaching for the dustpan and brush. ‘No problem.’
‘Thanks.’ Brooke ambled towards the stairs. She turned as she put her foot on the first step. ‘By the way, Jess …’
‘Yeah?’ Jess, kneeling down and sweeping up, didn’t bother to look round.
‘Can you make sure you wipe up round Ethel and Elsie’s food bowls? I’ve noticed they leave bits of meat on the floor and it gets stuck to my feet. I hate a dirty floor.’
*
Despite the compromises and minor irritations that go hand in hand with the business of sharing a living space with someone, the two women got along famously. Brooke had a terrific sense of humour and kept Jess in peals of laughter with her impressions of Laverne and the others she had met while a student in New York.
Rehearsals continued to go well. Jonathan was more than pleased with the performances he was getting out of the cast and told Penny and Helen that the vintage show looked set to be a modern hit.
Ollie came round often to have supper with Jess and Brooke, and the three of them became almost as family. Jess quite enjoyed playing big sister to them both and they treated her as they would any of their friends. On the nights that
Horse Laugh
was on, Ollie insisted on cooking his world-famous corned beef hash so that they could eat from trays on their laps in front of the television.
The three of them recounted messages they had received from their long-distance partners. Jess always had more to tell than the other two, because she and Ryan spoke or emailed reasonably frequently.
‘Ryan’s filming night scenes all this week. Poor darling, he’s exhausted. The press team are insisting he goes to at least one industry party a week. It’s crazy. He’s getting a break soon, though. Not sure exactly when, but he’s going to fly back to London and then maybe nip down for a day or two and meet you guys.’
‘Can’t wait!’ said Ollie.
‘No, nor me,’ replied Brooke, raising a cynical eyebrow at Ollie over Jess’s unseeing head. ‘I’ll bet he’s got some great Hollywood stories.’
‘Oh, he has.’ Jess’s loved-up face shone. ‘Working in the States has been such an experience for him. I can’t wait to see him.’ She twisted her beautiful engagement ring. ‘It’s been hard, missing him so much. But I couldn’t stand in his way. Just as he supported me when
Horse Laugh
came up.’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Ollie. ‘It’s the same with Red. There was no way I was going to be the “touring boyfriend”. Like some lap dog, living off her and losing my own identity.’
The two women nodded in agreement, but each privately thinking that Red was a selfish cow who was managing to emasculate Ollie even at a distance.
‘Quite, quite,’ murmured Brooke.
‘She was going to come down to Cornwall as well, but she’s shooting the new video so …’
‘Yeah,’ said Jess. ‘Tough schedule.’
The three sat in a shared silence, each thinking about their own situation. Brooke was the only one who said nothing about her man. Ollie still knew nothing about Louis and when he’d asked she’d told him only that she had a boyfriend who was very involved in media and was based in London. Sensing it was a closed topic, he had asked no more.
*
It was on one of their evenings together, a couple of weeks after Jess had moved into Granny’s Nook, that there was a knock on the old pink front door.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Ollie, and he turned the heat down on his corned beef hash and went to open the door. A tall and muscular man, similar in age to himself, Ollie thought, stood on the step holding a bottle of vodka. He was wearing a battered straw hat, a khaki T-shirt, ripped jeans. And what looked like a crocodile tooth on a leather string round his neck. His smile dropped when he saw Ollie.
‘Hi. Can I help you?’ asked Ollie.
‘Is Brooke in?’ asked the man in a posh drawl.
‘Louis!’ Brooke came bounding out of the sitting room and threw herself into the stranger’s arms.
‘Hey, sexy.’
Ollie watched as Brooke and the man embraced passionately. As he was taking all this in, he was suddenly aware of another man looming towards the cottage doorway.
‘Hello, I’m Hutch – I’m with him.’ He nodded towards the stranger.
‘Ah, right. Well do come in.’ Ollie moved to the side to allow this new man to squeeze past the hugging mass blocking the doorway. ‘I’m making corned beef hash. Would you both like to join us?’ Ollie calculated that he could stretch the hash out for two more mouths if he added another tin of baked beans.
‘It’s rather down to the boss,’ said Hutch.
Brooke surfaced for air. ‘Louis, you should have told me you were coming. My friends are here …’ She looked at Jess, who was smiling tightly with saucer eyes. ‘This is Jess.’ Jess stood up. Not knowing whether to curtsey or not, she gave a half bob and a nod of her head for good measure. Louis held his hand out and shook her nervous one firmly. ‘Hi, Jess.’
‘And this is Ollie.’
‘Hi, Ollie.’ Louis again offered his hand and Ollie gladly pumped it.
‘Hi, Louis. I can smell burning. Would you excuse me?’ And with that he dashed off into the kitchen.
*
Ollie’s supper went down very well. The five of them crowded round the television to watch
Horse Laugh.
Hutch and Louis insisted on sprawling on the floor and both laughed in all the right places.
Jess had never felt so awkward or embarrassed. Ollie, however, was either playing things very cool or he hadn’t a clue who these two men were. Jess hoped it was the former but felt sure it was the latter.
When the programme was over, Louis looked over to Jess. ‘That’s bloody good, Jess. And the horses all knew their lines.’ Brooke laughed and stroked Louis’s head adoringly. He took her hand and kissed the palm. ‘I’d better tell Granny to watch. She loves all that stuff.’
Jess couldn’t speak, so she picked up her supper plate instead. ‘I’ll wash up,’ she squeaked.
‘Ollie, that was a bloody good supper.’ Louis turned to face him. ‘Better than Hutch’s lasagne.’ He laughed and playfully stretched out his long leg to give Hutch a dig in the ribs with his toes.
‘The least I can do,’ said Hutch, as he started to get to his feet, ‘is help clear up.’ As he leaned over to pick up Louis and Brooke’s plates, Ollie caught a glimpse of a leather holster sitting neatly between his polo shirt and his jacket … There was a gun in it. As Hutch stood up, balancing the plates, his clothing fell back into place and the holster was hidden from view.
Ollie felt fear course through him. Who were these people?
‘I’ll take those.’ Ollie almost snatched the plates from Hutch. ‘You’re our guests.’
As soon as he got into the kitchen he put the plates down and closed the door.
‘Jess!’ he hissed. ‘I’m pretty sure that man Hutch has got a gun.’
Jess stopped tipping washing-up liquid into the sink and turned to face Ollie. ‘I expect he has.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Ollie, wild-eyed. ‘Who the fuck is he?’
Jess didn’t want to spill the beans. ‘You’d better ask Brooke.’
‘You mean, you know who these guys are? Is Brooke in danger? What do you know? Tell me what’s going on.’
Jess turned back to the sink and ran some hot water into the bowl. Ollie put his hands on her shoulders and turned her round to face him. ‘Tell me, Jess. I’m scared for you.’
Ollie’s jaw dropped to the floor as the news sunk in.
‘H
oly shit!’
Ollie took two quick paces to the kitchen door and opened it an inch. He put his eye to the crack and stared for a moment. ‘… Is it really him?’
Jess nodded.
‘Holy royal moly. How did she meet him?’
Jess told him.
‘How come nobody recognises him?’
‘You didn’t.’
‘Yeah, but I’m an idiot.’
‘Well, when he was away in the Air Force no new photos of him were released. He went in at nineteen. Out six years later. He’s changed quite a bit since then. He grew his hair, put in some coloured contacts and started to mingle with the ordinary people.’
Ollie was still staring through the crack in the door. ‘Fuuuck. That’s amazing. Bet his cousins are really jealous. Everybody knows their faces.’
‘Quite.’
Ollie closed the door and Jess handed him a tea towel. ‘Now don’t go saying anything stupid. Just act like you did earlier.’
‘But I didn’t know who he was earlier.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Hey, I’m an actor! I can just play the part of the man who doesn’t know that the man he’s talking to is like fourteenth in line to the throne.’
‘Good thinking.’
The two of them finished the washing and drying and Jess went back to the sitting room. Louis and Brooke were stretched out on the sofa. Hutch was in the armchair and all three were watching a rerun of
Blackadder.
‘Coffee? Tea?’ asked Jess.
She took their orders and returned to the kitchen, where Ollie was still looking gobsmacked.
‘Put the kettle on. They want coffee. There’s some fresh ground stuff in the cupboard above your head and a cafetière on the shelf by the cooker.’
Ollie did as he was told and then insisted on taking the tray in himself.
‘Here we go.’ He picked his way through the furniture and sprawled legs to the low stool by the fire. ‘I’ll put the tray down here and you can help yourselves.’
‘Cheers, buddy,’ said Louis, smiling at him.
‘My pleasure.’ Ollie sat on a large cushion on the floor. Jess came in carrying a tartan-patterned biscuit tin with a picture of Balmoral on it.
‘Biscuit, anyone?’
Ollie clocked the tin and watched as Jess passed it to Louis.
‘Thanks, Jess,’ said Louis. ‘I love shortbread. All those holidays in Scotland, I suppose.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Ollie. Jess shot him a warning look but he carried on. ‘My mum has a tin a bit like that one. She’s a member of the National Trust and loves going to visit castles and stuff.’
Brooke gave Ollie a daggers look.
Silence settled over the small group as they watched Hugh Laurie, as stupid Prince George, fall victim to Rowan Atkinson’s ridicule. Louis and Hutch laughed. Both Jess and Brooke stared hard at Ollie, willing him not to say anything.
‘Once my mum and I went to Windsor Castle and we had tea in the café – which was very expensive, by the way –’ shooting Louis a look – ‘Mum stole the tray that the tea came on. She reckoned she’d paid enough to have it.’
Hutch shifted uncomfortably in his armchair and gave Ollie an unamused look. Remembering the holster hidden under the man’s clothing, Ollie stopped talking. Jess blurted through gritted teeth, ‘Ollie. There’s no sugar on the tray. Please go and get some.’
Ollie looked at the tray. ‘No, there’s a bowl right there – look.’
Jess stared desperately at him and then said, ‘Ollie, oughtn’t you to be going soon? You have an early call in the morning.’
‘Not till ten.’
‘Then would you take the dogs round the block with me?’
Ollie looked at her, mystified. She’d never asked him before.
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now.’
Ollie stood and gave Jess a mock bow. ‘OK, Your Majesty.’
But Jess was already dragging him out of the room.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She was furiously trying to put her cardigan on but one of the sleeves was inside out and she was flailing pathetically.