It Started at Sunset Cottage Read online

  “You know that there will be events associated with the film, don’t you? Things you’ll be expected to do.”

  “I know. I’ll work up to it, though, Marcus. I’ll start with increasing my champagne tolerance,” she smiled, raising her glass to his.

  “How about you get a little practice in sooner rather than later? The children’s charity, PSDS, is having a Christmas Ball. You know the sort of thing – buy a table, celebrity guests, nice meal, charity auction. Please come,” he finished, with his hands clasped together, as if sending up a small prayer.

  “In London?”

  “I’m afraid so. Some ghastly big hotel. Now, what’s it called? Chipolata? No, that’s not it.” Kate knew he was teasing her, so gave him her best school-teacher look, but he continued, “Could be The Sausage. No, that’s not it. The Savaloy, that’s the one!” he said, with mock disgust.

  “The Savoy,” Kate corrected. “I’m a little tempted. I’ll think about it. Okay?”

  “Okay, darling girl. Let me know soon. Anyway, this script. First we do a rough-and- ready conversion from book to script. You know, the basics – Fred speaks blah blah, Gertrude speaks blah blah.”

  “Don’t recall those characters in my book, Marcus, but perhaps I’ll use them in a future novel.”

  “Yes, well, I’m just trying to explain that we have our work cut out. After the rough script, we need to get it to a full, usable state. What works in a book doesn’t always work on the screen. Each scene has to be thought through – each setting, where the characters are, how they are standing. Showing their emotions and what they’re feeling, that’s a tricky one. Special effects.”

  “Let me stop you there,” interrupted Kate. “The story is about two people getting in touch through the Internet after a number of years. There won’t be much in the way of special effects, I’m afraid, Marcus. I think this might be a little different to what you’re used to on Agent X.”

  “I think I’ll be happier when we are locked away and can focus on it and start to bring it to life,” said Marcus, leaning back in the armchair and resting his head against its back.

  “Locked away,” chuckled Kate. “You make it sound like a prison sentence.”

  “This isn’t an afternoon’s work, Kate. I suggest we go to my cottage in the Cotswolds for a couple of months until we have cracked this.” This made Kate sit up and suddenly feel a little more sober than she had two minutes before. Marcus was right. She had not appreciated what sort of commitment he was asking from her or how much work was involved. She stared at Marcus as he relaxed in her armchair. He was a real gent. Even in this relaxed situation, having consumed a fair amount of champagne, his tie was still in place and his top shirt button firmly done up. For a man in his fifties, his neatly trimmed wavy hair was very grey, even white in places, but it somehow seemed to suit him. Kate couldn’t imagine how odd he must have looked when it had had colour in it.

  “A couple of months,” she repeated slowly.

  “Easily,” nodded Marcus. “Let’s set ourselves a first task of reading the book again so it’s fresh in our minds.”

  “But I wrote it. So I know the story pretty well.”

  “You’ll be surprised. You’ll see it differently if you read it and try to picture every scene on the big screen,” and he flung his arms out, narrowly missing his glass, which was perched precariously on the coffee table. “Think about the characters’ expressions, how their faces change, how they react to news, how they run.” He stopped himself as he saw that Kate was about to interject with another comment about it not being an action movie.

  “Let’s meet up next week and map out a plan. We’ll aim to set off for the Cotswolds straight after the New Year,” Marcus suggested enthusiastically. “To an exciting New Year!” said Marcus, as he raised his glass in a toast.

  “An exciting New Year!” concurred Kate, and their glasses clinked once more.

  Andy finished tapping the panel pins into the frame of the front door to hold the trimmed cover of the Illustrated Atlas in place. Sarah didn’t have any odd bits of wood lying about and neither of them felt like venturing into the loft, so Andy made do with the book cover and pledged to replace it. He felt suddenly exhausted after the evening’s turbulent events. Sarah, on the other hand, appeared still to be high on adrenalin and was busily wiping down kitchen surfaces in between running to the bottom of the stairs to listen out for Amy. As she ran into the hall for the second time within the space of two minutes, Andy stopped her.

  “Sarah, she’s fine. Amy is completely unaware of the drama that unfolded here tonight.” Sarah looked at him doubtfully. “Honestly, she’ll be fine. She’ll wake up tomorrow full of beans. Trust me.”

  “I thought I heard her,” said Sarah. Andy shook his head.

  “I’d have heard her, too. She’s not made a murmur since you put her up there.”

  “What have they said to her, though? Shaun and Irene – they could poison her against me,” Sarah said with a sigh.

  “Not likely. She’s a bright little thing, that one, and she doesn’t see that much of them. You know, Shaun might be a bit more reasonable, and you might worry less, if Shaun was more used to having her. If he was able to look after her a bit more often.” Sarah’s eyes flashed and Andy knew he was overstepping the line.

  “How can you say that? He’s irresponsible. Look at the fiasco tonight, all caused by Shaun.”

  “Not all caused by Sh…”

  “Don’t try to defend him, Andy,” Sarah spat, in hushed tones so as not to wake Amy. “If you’ve finished, I think you’d better go,” she said. Andy handed her the small hammer and left-over panel pins, picked up his jacket and mobile, and left without another word.

  Chapter 5

  “Ah, dear boy, glad I’ve caught you. I’d like you to meet someone,” called Marcus as a tall, dark-haired, god-like creature came into view.

  “Marcus!” exclaimed the god as he engulfed Marcus in a bear hug before moving on. “Niamh!” he almost sang her name as he kissed her lightly on each cheek, and then looked her up and down admiringly. “Beautiful as ever. I can’t stop. I’m sitting down the front. Maybe I’ll catch you two later, after the auction?”

  “Tim, just two seconds. This is Kate,” Marcus announced proudly, as he turned to Kate and gestured with an outstretched hand. Kate had been momentarily mesmerised by Tim’s presence, which delayed her reactions. By the time she had stood up and thrust out her hand towards him, Tim was already receding.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to dash,” he called over his shoulder as he bounded off towards the stage, stopping only to kiss two tiny females in slinky dresses and skyscraper heels.

  “Kate, I’m so sorry,” Marcus said, clasping her still-outstretched hand and returning it to her side.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologise on his behalf,” replied Kate feeling very self-conscious as she retook her seat next to Marcus and tucked a non-existent strand of hair behind her left ear. “So, that was the famous Timothy Calder.”

  “It was. He’s not usually a complete arse. Just sometimes, you understand,” said Marcus. Niamh leaned forward and linked her arm through Marcus’s.

  “Tim is deceptively lovely when you get to know him,” offered Niamh, in her barely detectable American accent, as she gave a broad, knowing smile and hugged Marcus’s arm, as if sensing his mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

  Kate had decided to be brave and go to the PSDS Christmas Ball, as Marcus had suggested. She had been persuaded by Niamh to make a weekend of it and was staying with them, which had made the whole thing seem a lot less daunting – Marcus had arranged transport and tickets. Dinner was served in an impressive fashion as 12 waiters and waitresses came to the table simultaneously to serve everyone together. A nod from one waiter was the cue for the ladies to be served their starters and on the second nod plates were swept into place in front of the men. Kate didn’t manage to drink further than halfway down her champagne flute before someone
refilled it. The talk on the table was general updates between those who already knew each other and general-interest questions between those who didn’t. Marcus was very attentive and pointed out a selection of people to Kate during the evening. Niamh was chatty, too, and frequently made Kate giggle, mainly through her gentle teasing of Marcus.

  After dinner there was lots of table-swapping as people started to mingle or network, depending on their intentions. Kate wandered through the sea of dinner suits feeling like the villain at a James Bond convention and found herself talking to the floor manager for the latest Sky dance show – a very friendly woman and also a reader of Kate’s books. Marcus was keen to catch up with Tim, so when he saw that Kate was deep in conversation, he headed off towards the front tables. He spotted Tim with his arm draped casually around the shoulder of a slender female in impossible heels as he was showing her a photo of his Italian villa. Marcus strolled over to the pair and introduced himself.

  “Good evening, I’m Marcus. Is this man bothering you?”

  “Marcus, this is Lumina, my soon-to-be leading lady in Love,” he gave a little pause, “Dot Com.”

  “Very pleased to meet you. I’m Marcus Leonard.” Lumina shook his hand limply, but appeared to have no recognition of who he was.

  “Marcus is a well-known script writer. He’s the genius that turns it from a dull old book into a blockbuster film script,” said Tim, his eyes wide and expressive.

  “Tim’s going to spank me if I don’t learn my lines,” Lumina purred as she swayed slightly, which could have been due to the height of her heels, the champagne, Tim’s close proximity or a combination of all three.

  “And if you do?” smiled Marcus, raising an eyebrow at Tim. Lumina looked puzzled, but was quickly distracted.

  “I need to talk to Fritz. I’ll see you later, Tim. Nice to meet you, Mark,” and she tottered off.

  “Bloody hell, Tim! We haven’t even started filming and you’ve homed in on her. She’s young, Tim, and we don’t want her hating you for the duration of filming, so could you keep your trousers zipped for a couple of months? Please!”

  “It pays to warm a few up. Don’t worry! I wouldn’t do anything to mess this up. I know it’s important to you because of that author lady you’re friendly with.”

  “Kate Marshall,” Marcus said, to which Tim nodded distractedly.

  “So, are you enjoying tonight?” asked Tim.

  “Yes, you know me. I like a party, unlike you, you miserable sod.”

  “I just see them for what they are. Opportunities to schmooze and network and, in this rare case, make some much-needed cash for a very worthy cause.”

  “So, who are you here with tonight? Is it that lovely girl you were with last time I saw you? Sorry, I can’t remember her name.”

  “Poppy?” suggested Tim.

  “No, that wasn’t her name.”

  “Kitty?”

  “No, she was a blonde girl.”

  “Oh! Gemma Arterton. That was ages ago,”

  “Blonde, not Bond!”

  “Jemima?” Tim offered as he waved away the champagne-wielding waiter.

  “No, that wasn’t it. She was with you at that awards evening a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh, Katrina,” Tim said with relief.

  “Yes. Katrina!”

  “That didn’t last. She wanted to choose furniture together after the second date, that’s never a good sign,” flinched Tim. Marcus nodded and thought for a few seconds.

  “Did you go out with those others in that short space of time?”

  Tim smiled at the question. “It was two weeks ago, Marcus!”

  “Are you ever going to settle down?”

  “Don’t rush me, I’m getting around to it,” grinned Tim, patting Marcus affectionately on the back.

  “Via a particularly scenic route, it would seem.”

  “Well ‘it’ has never happened to me.”

  “By ‘it’ do you mean love?” asked Marcus.

  “Yeah, love, whatever it really is. You and Niamh have it, my friends Toby and Greg and my cousin Steph and her awful husband Ramsay have it, Posh and Becks, Elton and David, Barbie and Ken, I think, but that’s about it. The rest are just getting by and I’m not going to spend my life getting by with one woman when I can have a bloody excellent time enjoying it with lots of women. It’s not fair, not to share!”

  “You are missing the point,” said Marcus adjusting his bow tie.

  “Anyway, I might have already had ‘it’; I could have had ‘it’ lots of times. How do you really know if you have ‘it’ or not?” Marcus shook his head and waved Niamh over to them and, as if she’d been waiting for the signal, Niamh waved her acknowledgement and elegantly made her way through the tables and gave Tim a kiss on his cheek. Marcus put an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side “Help me, darling. What does being in love feel like and how do you know that it’s the real thing?”

  “Wow, now there’s a question I wasn’t expecting. Give me a minute, boys.” Niamh thought for a moment then said thoughtfully, “For a woman, it’s like your first orgasm.” Tim stepped backwards and almost spat out his recent sip of water.

  “Oh, please do explain,” he encouraged, grinning from ear to ear like a schoolboy. Niamh ignored him and continued undeterred.

  “You see, up until then, if someone asks you if you’ve had an orgasm you reply, ‘I’m not sure. Probably. I might have done’. Then you have one and you realise, that’s it! That’s an orgasm; that’s what all the fuss is about and it’s everything you hoped it would be and more. And it’s only then that you realise it’s completely unmistakeable. And finding love is exactly the same.” Tim looked puzzled and rolled his eyes at Marcus, who just nodded sagely.

  “She’s absolutely right, Tim. You will definitely know when it hits you.”

  “There are rather a few more people having orgasms than falling in love, I suspect. Well, definitely, where I’m involved.” Tim winked and took another sip of water.

  “I suspect most of the ladies in your company are doing both. Please be careful with them, Tim. Having your heart broken hurts,” said Niamh, touching his arm.

  “In other words, please don’t be an arse,” stated Marcus, with a smile.

  “You’ve reminded me that I need to find the Corrie crew. There’s a couple of ladies there I need to give my number to. Well, Pippa’s number, obviously, not mine!”

  “How is your overworked PA?” asked Niamh.

  “She’s fine, she loves it. We must do dinner soon,” said Tim, indicating the three of them. And with that, he was gone.

  When they announced the music was about to start Kate returned to her seat. Across on the Corrie table, Kate watched Tim joking with two of the ladies, who were giggling excitedly like tickled hyenas. The music came from some very trendy group and someone who was third on a talent-singing show a couple of years ago. There was a break before the auction, so Kate and Niamh did the customary thing and went to the ladies together. Niamh was a kind soul wrapped in a vibrant personality, who seemed to worry just a little bit about everyone.

  “You’re not really enjoying it, are you?” asked Niamh gently as they made their way upstairs.

  “Oh no, it’s lovely. The food’s lovely and everyone’s…”

  “Lovely?”

  “Yes. Sorry, you’d think I’d have a wider vocabulary, being a writer.” They stopped at the bottom of the first flight of stairs so that they could continue their conversation and stood back to let others pass.

  “Kate, can I be honest with you?”

  “Of course,” said Kate, although she was hoping Niamh wasn’t going to be too honest about Kate’s dress. She knew now that the plain black would have been far better than the sparkly one she was wearing. She looked as though Amy had sprinkled glitter on her.

  “When you are ready, you will enjoy things again. You just need to give yourself permission. You deserve to enjoy yourself, Kate.”

  Kate knew
exactly what Niamh meant. Since James had gone there hadn’t been many moments where Kate had found herself having fun and when she did, it was like a shutter coming down that suddenly made her stop. She didn’t know if it was her own insecurities or sadness, but there was definitely something that kept moderating her happiness. Kate smiled at Niamh and nodded.

  “You get things out of proportion in your head. I actually worried that there might be an empty seat next to me,” said Kate. Niamh responded with a pained expression. “I know it’s daft and it has been lovely tonight. Nobody has asked me about James and, in an odd way, that’s a little sad. Like he’s been forgotten. There’s no pleasing me, is there?” said Kate, with a shrug and a small smile.

  “We’re women. Of course there’s not,” Niamh said, giving her a hug.

  Niamh and Kate bypassed the nearest toilets to avoid a queue and found themselves in a quaint English oasis with an exotic garden mural on the wall and no queue. Niamh disappeared behind an ornate door painted a delicate shade of green and Kate clip-clopped her way down to a free cubicle at the other end of the room. Once inside, she could clearly hear the conversation from the cubicle next door, where someone was sniffing and someone, with an Irish accent and a slight slur, was comforting them.

  “That’s better, Jemima, he’s not worth it. You’re worth ten of him. You’re better off without him, so you are. He’s just a flashy bastard.”

  “But I love him,” squeaked the sniffer, followed by a loud, unladylike nose-blow.

  “He doesn’t deserve your love. You save it for someone who does.”

  This is just like being eighteen again, thought Kate with a smile, but this time she wasn’t the sniffer, which did make her feel better. She found herself ready to leave the cubicle, hand paused on the flush, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to push down the handle because she wanted to hear more about the sniffer and the flashy bastard.

  “When he came over, I thought he was going to join our table, but he just patted me on the back like footballers do and …” more sniffing followed, “did you see him with her from Daybreak? And that Lumina, she was all over him like a rash.”