Dreaming of Mr. Darcy (15 page)

Much to Gemma's horror, Kim Reilly was still hanging around Lyme Regis and insisted on accompanying everyone in the minibus to shoot that morning's Uppercross scenes.

‘You won't even know I'm there,' she'd told Gemma, clutching her arm and laughing, but of course it was an empty promise. Kim Reilly could go nowhere without making her presence felt. Even a simple trip to the local newsagent's to get the morning paper was a scene of great theatricality, with makeup and hair in place and a thousand anecdotes to tell any passerby who might be interested. It couldn't be helped—it was just the sort of person she was. Gemma remembered once looking through an old photo album at her grandmother's. Virtually all the photos had been of her mother—not because they'd been taken of her, but because she'd run into them when they were being taken. Every photo of her Aunt Christie's tenth birthday party had Kim in the foreground. Even the blowing out of the candles had Kim leaning into the frame to get in on the action. At Great Uncle Henry's wedding, Kim had cartwheeled down the aisle, showing off her pink knickers to the entire congregation. Gemma was therefore understandably nervous about the chaos her mother might cause on set.

Sitting in makeup, Gemma wondered how long it would be before her mother became bored.

‘Oh, my God!' her mother said, popping her head around the door. ‘Teresa just asked me if I'd like to have a walk-on role. Isn't that marvellous?'

The colour drained from Gemma's face. ‘What walk-on role?'

‘That card-playing scene when Captain Wentworth walks in. You know the one.'

Gemma did. It was a scene of great subtlety, and if there was one thing Kim Reilly wasn't good at, it was subtlety.

‘I'll be walking into the room before Captain Wentworth arrives and flirting with a gentleman over a game of cards. Isn't it exciting? I've never done a period piece before. It could be a whole new direction for me.'

Gemma didn't know what to say. The thought of her mother in a Jane Austen adaptation was just too much. What was Teresa thinking? But perhaps it was her way of appeasing Kim. She knew what her mother could be like when she got an idea into her head, and Gemma was quite sure it hadn't been Teresa's doing at all. Kim would have chipped away at her until she gave in.

‘I thought I might stay on here for a bit. There's nothing for me to rush home for.'

‘Oh,' Gemma said.

‘Well, you might sound a bit more enthusiastic,' her mother said. ‘This could be my big relaunch. I haven't had a decent part in years.'

‘But you played Queen Elizabeth for the BBC last year.'

‘Oh, tosh! That was a mere walk-on role. I had less screen time than the wolfhound. It was ridiculous,' she said. ‘No, you mark my words, this could be the beginning of great things for me.'

‘But I thought you were going to concentrate on your charity work now,' Gemma said, hopelessly grabbing onto anything she could think of.

Kim Reilly sighed. ‘Charity work's all very well, but it's so
boring
! Honestly, the speeches one has to sit through. And the publicity is appalling. Nobody's interested, because everybody's doing it.'

Gemma grimaced. That wasn't what charity work was about, she thought, but she didn't dare say anything. ‘And you're meant to be taking it easy—after that breakdown last year, remember?'

‘That wasn't a breakdown,' her mother told her. ‘I was just a bit tired, and who can blame me, after that dreadful man?'

Gemma sighed as she remembered Lance Carlson, the Texan with the twinkle who had swept her mother off her feet in Paris, married her in Vegas, and robbed her in New York. The marriage had been swiftly annulled, and Carlson had been arrested a week later at The Chapel of Undying Love in Vegas on the verge of committing bigamy.

‘At least it got me some column inches,' Kim said. ‘Anyway, one just can't retire from acting. It's not like other professions—it's a part of who you are,' she said, squinting at her reflection in the mirror from behind Gemma's shoulder. Gemma gazed at her own reflection, wishing she had the courage to retire. With immediate effect.

***

Kay took the Tiffany sunglasses off and put them carefully away in their case before looking out the window. It was obvious that the Lotus was not going anywhere.

‘The engine's stopped,' she said.

‘I know,' Oli said, turning the key in the ignition. Nothing happened.

‘I think you've flooded her,' Kay said.

‘I think you're right,' he said. ‘
Shit!
' He hit his hand against the steering wheel.

Kay bit her lip. This wasn't what she had in mind for her date with a movie star.

‘What are we going to do?' she asked.

‘We'll have to ring a garage.' Oli patted his jacket and pulled out his mobile, but his face soon fell. ‘There's no bloody service. Can you believe it?'

‘Yes,' Kay said. ‘We're at the bottom of a valley here.'

‘We're at the bottom of the sea!' Oli said.

Kay wasn't the sort of person to say, ‘I told you so,' especially not to a handsome movie star, but she did wish he had listened to her. Instead, she looked out the windows at the deep water surrounding them and the high hedges and trees. There were sheep in a field, and she could barely make out their bleats as the young lambs raced each other under the shelter of an enormous oak tree.

‘Oli?'

‘What?'

‘I've been here before.'

‘What, stuck in the middle of a lake in the middle of nowhere?'

‘No, here. I know where we are. There's a village just around the corner. I know someone who lives there. We can use her phone.'

His eyebrows rose. ‘Really?'

‘Yes, but we'll have to wade through this first.'

‘You're not wading anywhere,' Oli said. She watched as he opened his car door, a wave of freezing water sloshing inside.

‘Shit!' Oli exclaimed. ‘I guess it's good-bye to these shoes,' he said, and his feet disappeared into the cold depths. He waded around the back of the car and finally reached Kay's door, opening it slowly before bending double and scooping Kay from the passenger seat. She just had time to grab her handbag before it washed away, and she quickly secured her arms around Oli's neck. It was her moment as a heroine, she thought. She was Tess being carried along the flooded lane by Angel Clare. She was Marianne Dashwood in the arms of Willoughby. No, she thought. For once, her life was better than fiction. She was Kay gazing up into the blue eyes of Oli Wade Owen. It was like a scene from one of her wild imaginings, and she was enjoying every single second of it.

‘Comfy?' he asked with a smile.

She nodded up at him as he sploshed through the water, his strong legs seeming to part it with ease. Kay's own legs felt cold and vulnerable and very on display, the slinky blue dress having ridden halfway up them when Oli picked her up. Her hat was still in place, though, which she was glad of, when it began to rain.

The drops were light at first, and the view of the lane ahead looked half hidden in a romantic pearl curtain, but then it began to pour in earnest, and they were both soon soaked through.

Finally making it to the other side of the flood, Oli placed Kay on the ground, and there was no avoiding the rest of the puddles in the lane. Kay's strappy sandals and pale stockings were soon soaked through, along with everything else.

‘Where's this house?' Oli said, his hair plastered to his face and his blue shirt three shades darker than it had been when they left Lyme Regis.

‘Just around the corner,' Kay said, leading the way. Unfortunately, it wasn't just around the corner. Nor the next. Or the next. That was the trouble with the country lanes. Each bend looked similar to a dozen others, and Kay was beginning to panic in fear that they would never reach Nana Craig's at all but be walking the wet lanes forever more.

At last they turned a corner and the cottage came into view, its chocolate-coloured thatched roof a most welcome sight, especially when Kay spied a thin trickle of wood smoke coming from its chimney.

‘There!' she declared, pointing at the pretty house.

Oli laughed as they approached and he opened the gate. ‘Who lives here, Hansel and Gretel?'

They ran up the brick path and sheltered under the porch, knocking on the door and hoping that somebody would be inside to welcome them in.

‘Who is it?' a voice came from behind the yellow wooden door.

‘Nana Craig? It's Kay—Adam's friend.'

‘Kay?'

‘Yes! Our car's broken down in the lane, and we need to make a call.'

The door opened, and the sweet face of Nana Craig appeared. ‘Kay?' she said. ‘Is that really you?'

Kay suddenly remembered she was still wearing the hairpiece and hat and quickly took them off, hoping her own hair wasn't too much of a fright.

‘Oh! Your hair's fallen out!' Nana Craig said in horror.

‘It's a hairpiece. I'm incognito,' Kay explained.

‘And you're soaked through. Get inside before you catch your death.'

Kay walked into the hallway. ‘Nana Craig, this is Oli.'

‘Hello,' Oli said, ducking his head so as not to hit it on the low door frame.

Nana Craig narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I've seen you,' she said in an accusatory sort of tone.

‘You might well have done,' Oli said, nodding and sending a shower of water over Nana Craig. ‘God, I'm sorry!'

‘Don't blaspheme!' Nana Craig said. ‘I won't have blasphemers in my house.'

‘Oli's an actor,' Kay explained.

‘Is he?' Nana Craig didn't sound impressed. ‘Well, that doesn't excuse blaspheming. And shouldn't he be acting somewhere now instead of—instead of being with you?'

‘I've got some time off,' Oli said. ‘Thought I'd take Kay out for lunch, but we kind of got stuck in the flood.'

‘Oli's got an amazing car,' Kay said. ‘But we've got to ring for a garage.'

‘Yes,' Oli said. ‘We were wondering if we could use your phone. There's no mobile service out here.'

Nana Craig nodded towards the telephone.

‘And a cup of tea would be great,' Oli said. ‘And maybe a towel?'

Nana Craig gasped. ‘Of course. You're both soaked.' She bustled off in search of towels, leaving Kay and Oli dripping in the hallway.

‘I don't think she likes me,' Oli said. ‘Why doesn't she like me?' He sounded genuinely perplexed. He'd obviously never met a woman yet who hadn't swooned at the mere sight of him.

‘Don't take it personally,' Kay said. ‘She just doesn't like actors.'

‘Why not?'

‘She was once married to an actor who ran off with a girl who promised to get him a part in a movie.'

‘My God!'

‘Yes. Isn't that dreadful?'

‘And did he?' Oli asked.

‘What?'

‘Get the part in the movie?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘I hope he got the girl at least,' Oli whispered.

Nana Craig appeared before anything else could be discussed, carrying one primrose towel and one candyfloss pink one. ‘I'll leave you two to dry off,' she said. ‘Kay, there's a cloakroom down there on the right. I'll lend you a dress and cardigan.'

Kay thanked her and headed for the cloakroom, peeling off the sodden dress and hoping it wasn't ruined. She'd have to face the wrath of Beth if it was.

She towel dried her body and hair, doing her best to restore some order and smiling as she looked around the bathroom. The toilet and sink were dark pink and the walls were covered in a peony-festooned paper.

There was a polite knock on the door. ‘Kay?'

Kay opened it, the pink towel covering her body.

‘I brought you these. Your figure's a little more slight than mine, but at least these are dry and warm.'

‘Thanks so much,' Kay said. ‘And I'm so sorry to just turn up like this.'

‘What else could you do?' Nana Craig said. ‘I'll go and make the tea.'

Kay looked at the dress Nana Craig had given her. She liked blue and pink and yellow and purple, but usually not all together at once. Still, as Nana Craig said, it was dry. There was also a voluminous cardigan in acid green. Kay didn't dare look at her reflection in the gilded cloakroom mirror, for it was probably not the look she was after for a first date with Oli Wade Owen.

Daring to leave the cloakroom, she heard Nana Craig in the kitchen.

‘May I give you a hand?' Kay asked, entering the tiny room at the back of the cottage and spying the candy-striped mugs and polka-dotted teapot.

‘I can manage,' the woman said, and Kay thought Nana Craig sounded a little bit put out. ‘You seen Adam?'

‘No,' Kay said. ‘Not today. I expect he's working.'

Nana Craig nodded. ‘He works hard, you know. Not like these actor types. He doesn't have time to go swanning off at a moment's notice. But I expect you'll see him later,' Nana Craig continued, placing a scarlet sugar bowl on an orange tea tray.

‘He might be coming over,' Kay said. ‘He's seeing Gemma.'

‘Gemma?' Nana Craig looked startled. ‘Who's Gemma?'

‘She's playing Anne Elliot—the heroine in
Persuasion
.'

‘She's an actress?'

Kay nodded.

‘I see,' Nana Craig said, pouring hot water from the kettle into the polka-dotted teapot.

‘She's lovely—
really
lovely,' Kay said, pulling the acid green cardigan around herself nervously.

‘Actors and actresses are not to be trusted,' Nana Craig said, her lips a thin line across her face. ‘They're only ever out for themselves.' Nana Craig's hands clutched the edges of the orange tea tray. ‘I expect Adam's told you my story,' she said.