It Started at Sunset Cottage Page 6

  “It’ll be her with the rash come tomorrow, I wouldn’t wonder,” and with that they both laughed and Kate felt that was a good point to flush and leave.

  Niamh was standing outside the toilets smoothing her deep-plum dress over her hips. She was a naturally elegant woman, always looked immaculate, but somehow made it seem as if it had all happened without any effort. As Kate emerged from the toilets, Niamh lit up like a beacon.

  “Here you are. That’s good. I was starting to wonder if you’d gone out of the window.”

  “There was no window, Niamh. Stop worrying, I’m fine.” At least she was feeling better than the sniffer. When they got back to their table, Kate and Niamh were greeted by Marcus as if they’d just returned from a marathon.

  “Ladies, you’re back. Wonderful. Just in time for the auction.”

  “Marcus, who is Lumina?” asked Kate.

  “She’s your leading lady!” He swung around dramatically, to look her square in the eyes.

  “Right. Okay. Still don’t know who she is, sorry.”

  “Kate, have you been living in a cave? She is a starlet with huge potential. Bit of a diva, by all accounts, but very talked-about right now.”

  “Would I have seen her in anything?”

  “Did you do Cannes this year?” he asked, but Kate didn’t dignify that with an answer and Marcus was already shaking his head. “Obviously not. She played a gangster’s moll in that Brit flick, the one that was half black and white apart from the machete scenes. She got terrific reviews.”

  Kate was thankful she’d missed the machete film – violence and horror were most definitely not her thing.

  “Is she here tonight?”

  “Yes. Do you want to meet her?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Do you see the five tables at the front? She’s on the second one from the left and she’s near the stage. Lots of blonde hair and a blue, off-the-shoulder dress.”

  “Yes, got her,” replied Kate, as she spotted the back of her head. With its mass of back-combed hair on top of a very petite body she looked like a lollipop.

  “So, leading lady, you said?”

  “Yes! Do you not read your emails?”

  The music built up and the host gyrated onto the stage to start the auction. It started off quite tamely with some pairs of tickets for dinner and overnight stays at the Savoy hotel. Next up was a bar stool from the Rovers’ Return signed by the cast of Corrie, and a signed England football that caused a flurry of excitement, followed by a box for Ladies Day at Ascot, and designer diamond earrings, which really hotted up the bidding frenzy. Various other increasingly exotic items followed and the final amounts went higher and higher. Kate was pleased when the host announced the last item. It was a romantic weekend in Monaco in a top hotel, with helicopter flights and a party on a private yacht.

  “Who’ll start me at 10,000?” he asked.

  “Not me,” muttered Kate. She looked around the room to see if she could spot any more celebrities and do a bit of people-watching. When Kate pulled her attention back to the auction, the host was getting very overexcited and waving frantically between three tables at the front.

  “I think Tim is after this one. He likes to go for the last lot of the night,” Marcus said. Kate strained her neck and could see two men up on their feet, waving their arms about, at tables either side of Tim’s. Tim was the complete opposite, as he was sitting looking very relaxed, with one foot resting on his knee. The man on the left shook his head and sat down, and the host wiped his forehead and turned back to Tim.

  “Any advance on 100,000 pounds?” he said smoothly, and the man to his right shook his head and sat down too. Kate noticed that this man was sitting next to Lumina, although she was now sitting sideways on her chair, staring at Tim and clapping her hands. “Sold to Timothy Calder!” The whole room erupted into applause, hoots and whistles as Tim casually got up and sauntered through the tables shaking hands and nodding acknowledgements. It was the most impressive exit Kate had ever seen.

  “Bravo, dear boy!” called Marcus as Tim walked past, and he received an exaggerated wink in return.

  “Ooh, these look nice,” said Didi with wide eyes as her fingers hovered over the H- shaped box of chocolates. Kate was already lounging in the armchair, letting an Eton Mess- flavoured one melt in her mouth.

  “They are amazing,” Kate managed to reply, without dribbling. Kate had done the tea round in record time and was now relaxing in Didi’s room. Didi settled on a praline, leant back on her pillows and closed her eyes as she bit into the chocolate. There was silence for a few seconds whilst they savoured the moment of indulgence. Didi opened one eye.

  “So, tell me tales of sex, drugs and rock and roll, or hip hop and street, or whatever it is these days. I’ve been dying to hear all about your charity evening with the stars,” said Didi with a cheeky grin.

  “Uh,” groaned Kate, her eyes still closed.

  “You can do better than that, and if you can’t, just make it up!”

  Kate shuffled herself into a more upright position and looked at Didi, who was excited and hopeful. “The food was excellent, there was plenty of champagne, the music was okay and the evening raised thousands of pounds for a very good cause.”

  “That’s the party line. Now for the gossip. So, who did you meet? Anyone famous?”

  “The host was that celebrity jungle winner from a few years ago – the tall one who screamed a lot.”

  “I think I know the one. Who else?”

  “Our table was all authors and publishers. The table behind us was all from Coronation Street. They were a rowdy bunch.”

  “Now you’re talking! I like a bit of Corrie. Which Corrie actors were there?” Didi leaned a little forward.

  “Sorry, I don’t watch it, so I don’t know their names.”

  “Shame,” said Didi, sinking back on her pillows with a small wince as a tube got snagged.

  “Alan Rickman was there.”

  “Really? Did you speak to him?”

  “No, but I saw him quite close up. He said goodbye to Marcus as he was leaving.”

  “What about that chap they’ve got lined up to play the lead in your film? Timothy what’s-his-name?”

  “Calder. I only saw him for a moment, but I can’t deny he’s completely gorgeous.”

  “I was having a good look at him the other day. He’s in those magazines,” Didi said, pointing to a pile on her bedside cabinet. “I’d only kick him out of bed to get me a cuppa!”

  Kate pondered for a moment, “I’m not sure if it’s his eyes or the smile, but he definitely has something. He’s better in the flesh,” said Kate, leaning over and picking up a random chocolate from the box.

  “I bet he is,” said Didi, with a mischievous smile. “Anyone sexy on your table?”

  “No. Sorry to disappoint you. Any developments here?”

  “Heck, no. I badger them on a daily basis to send me home, but they fob me off.”

  “Be patient. You’ve got weeks here yet. So, where’s home?”

  “A little flat just a stroll from the Downs. Huge buses pass by just outside all the time, so I can get into town as easy as having my own chauffeur.” Didi adjusted her top sheet.

  “By town, you mean London?”

  “As the youth of today would say ‘der’.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “It’s home and the local council are spending millions in the local area. Up and coming we are, don’t you know,” Didi said with a chuckle.

  “They must have convalescent homes in London. Why come to deepest, darkest Northamptonshire?”

  “Same level of care but cheaper.”

  Kate nodded her understanding, “Don’t be in a rush to leave, Didi, it’ll be different at home, having to do everything yourself. Make sure you’re completely better.”

  “Stop fussing. I can look after myself. Always have, always will.”

  “Yes, I know, but humour me. When you’re ready, I could
take you home, settle you in. Okay?”

  “If it’s no trouble, I’d like that, thank you,” smiled Didi, and for a brief moment there was a glimpse of a lonely old lady, but in a flash she was gone. “So definitely no chance of rampant sex at this do, then?”

  Kate just rolled her eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Kate was feeling surprisingly bright when she woke up. Some nights she struggled to get to sleep, but last night she had fallen asleep quickly and slept soundly, until the birds had eased her to consciousness, and she felt all the better for it. The spluttering of Sarah’s car signalled her timely arrival and Kate put the kettle on.

  “Tea or coffee?” she called out, as Sarah shut the door behind her. Sarah was one of those people who drank both, depending on her mood.

  “Brr, tea please,” she shivered. “You could freeze your tail off out there today.”

  Sarah wore skinny jeans and furry boots, which highlighted her ridiculously thin thighs. She had two jumpers on under her jacket, which she had wrapped tightly around herself as she dashed inside.

  “Are you picking up fashion tips from the oldies at the home?” chided Sarah, pointing at Kate’s long, grey cardigan.

  “It’s warm. I’m only seeing you today and you’re my friend, so shut up.” They both sat down at the kitchen table and Sarah gave two envelopes to Kate.

  “Happy Christmas!”

  “Thank you,” Kate said, as she ripped open the first envelope and removed the card. “Oh!” she said, studying the Christmas card that depicted a shiny red Christmas tree with antlers impaled in it. “Thank you. That has to be the scariest looking Christmas card I have ever seen,” said Kate with a forced smile.

  “I know,” shrugged Sarah. “It’s the thought that counts. Anyway, they were on sale.”

  “Where at? The Freddie Krueger gift shop?”

  They both laughed and Kate opened the second card. As she did so, spoonfuls of glitter landed on the kitchen table. Kate smiled and studied the home-made card that had a triangular piece of white paper stuck on the front, with a pink head drawn on the top and lots of glitter all around it. At the bottom of the card, Amy had written in her neatest writing “James”.

  “It’s an angel,” Kate said at last.

  “Spot on,” replied Sarah, leaning over and giving her a hug. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I am, actually. That was really sweet of her.” Kate shook a little more glitter off the card, which willingly obliged and added to the already well-decorated table.

  “So, do we have a plan for attacking the shops today? I’d love to get it all finished if we could,” Sarah said, as she cupped her mug with both hands in an attempt to warm herself up.

  “I have a list,” said Kate, pulling a piece of paper out of her cardigan pocket with an excited flourish. Kate made lots of lists. James hadn’t been a fan; he’d made a few comments about it being her way of controlling things, but to Kate making a list and ticking things off was fun.

  “You really are Little Miss Organised,” mocked Sarah, who had absolutely no idea of what she would buy for anyone and even less idea as to how she would pay for it. As if sensing Sarah’s dilemma, Kate opened a cupboard and produced four wicker baskets. “I found these and I thought I might make them into hampers for a couple of people. Pick out their favourite coffee and biscuits, add some of my special mince pies with maybe a bottle of fizz. What do you think?”

  “Really great idea. I would love it if someone did that for me.”

  “I only need two, though, so would you like the others? Can you get some cellophane and bows from work to finish them off?” asked Kate.

  “No problem. Tick. That’s two presents sorted already. We are on a roll!”

  Sarah had two jobs – there was the bar work for extra money since Shaun left, but her real love was floristry. Unfortunately, the small florist she worked for didn’t need her full time, and didn’t pay particularly well, but she loved it and her boss, Esme, was more like a friend than a boss, so it was a great place to escape to three times a week. The florist’s had a great name too – it was called “Back to the Fuchsia”, which brought a smile to a lot of faces, including Kate’s.

  “I’ve something to tell you,” said Kate.

  “You’ve won the super-duper, multi-rollover lottery?” said Sarah hopefully, to which Kate shook her head. “You’re pregnant with triplets and it’s a girl, a boy and a puppy?”

  “Not very likely. I think you need to have sex with a magician for that to happen.” Sarah took another sip of tea and scrunched up her face in thought.

  “You’re going to be the next prime minister and make chocolate free for women?”

  “No, sorry, you’re out of guesses. I’m going to stay with Marcus for a while so we can finish writing this script. He’s got a place in the Cotswolds that he escapes to.”

  “When, how long for and can I borrow your clothes whilst you’re gone?”

  “Straight after New Year, for a couple of months and yes you can, but you’ll look daft. My clothes are all size 10 to 12 and you’re what now? Minus 4?”

  “Yeah, something like that. What’s happening to Marmalade?”

  “I was thinking about a house-sitter. Do you fancy it?”

  “I would really love to, but it’s too far from Amy’s school and work. Sorry.”

  “Never mind, I thought you’d say that, so I’m thinking of asking Andy.”

  “Good idea. From what he said, his house is a wreck and probably being used by film companies to double as a war zone, so I think he’d jump at the chance.”

  “Right, let’s hit the shops!” said Kate emphatically, and they downed their drinks and headed out into the December madness.

  “Er, yes, I’m sorry. I got caught up a bit…”

  “Tim, are you kissing someone?” snapped Pippa into her mobile. Being a personal assistant to Timothy Calder was part-nanny, part-project manager and part-detective.

  “Sorry. Bye,” he whispered.

  “Bye? Tim, I thought you wanted to sort out Christmas shopping before lunch? Lunch is booked and I can’t move it if you want to get to the TV studio on time…. Are you still there?”

  Tim stopped kissing and shut the hotel door behind him. “Sorry, Pips, I wasn’t saying ‘Bye’ to you it was… ah, well, it wasn’t you.”

  “No, some poor unfortunate soul, I suspect,” replied Pippa crossly.

  “Now, Pips. You’re not jealous, are you?” Tim smiled into the phone.

  “No,” came the unequivocal reply.

  “Are you sure?” he said slowly, teasing her.

  “Yes, I am sure, thank you very much for asking. Tim, shall I just order what I think for Christmas presents, because you’re clearly not going to meet me this morning, you’ve run out of time?”

  “No, don’t be over-dramatic, I’ll make it. In fact, I’ll be with you soon,” he said, striding towards a lift as the doors were about to close. He beamed a smile at the scowling female occupant as he waved his free hand between the closing doors.

  “How long is ‘soon’ exactly, Tim? I know what your idea of time-keeping is like – ‘soon’ could mean Tuesday,” Pippa said, with a sigh.

  As the woman in her mid-thirties registered who had just joined her in the lift, her demeanour completely changed. She went from ice queen to smitten school girl quicker than switching on a light. Tim stepped inside and his lift companion stared at him, totally mesmerised by his striking green eyes. Tim smiled back at her and mouthed “ground floor?” before leaning across and pressing the button to send them racing downwards. The woman mouthed back “please”. This may have been because she was mimicking Tim, or more likely, because she’d lost the power of speech. Tim gave her another killer smile and made apologetic gestures at his phone before continuing his conversation.

  “Pips, you really should trust me, you know. I’ve never really let you down, now have I?”

  Pippa didn’t need to think about this question.


  “Talk show two weeks ago; you were playing drinking games with Bruce Willis so you were both late for filming. Last Agent X film, you slept with Winona what’s-her-face so she burst into tears every time she saw you and I had to choreograph her movements to avoid her bumping into you for three weeks of filming. You promised to call my mum on her birthday, but despite me writing the number down on a piece of paper, a post-it note, your hand and texting it to you, you still never managed it. You called Eamonn Holmes a f…”

  “Wow, that’s a long list, Pips. What can I say except I’m truly sorry?” Ping went the lift and he blew a kiss to his lift partner, who visibly swooned and stayed in the lift, even when the doors closed again.

  “So, where exactly are you?” said Pippa, looking at her watch.

  “Here I am,” said the husky voice just behind her left ear.

  “Crap!” shouted Pippa, just a little too loud. “You really shouldn’t do that,” she scolded, as she felt her cheeks burn with the rush of blood and her neck tingled with the sensation of his warm breath. Tim ended the call on his mobile and jumped over the arms of the two large, green, high-back chairs and landed neatly in the one next to Pippa.

  “Hi, Pips, here I am, just a little late.”

  Pippa had been waiting in the Thames Foyer at the Savoy, Tim’s favourite London hotel, for her boss to arrive so that he could give her his instructions on what to buy for his family and friends for Christmas. Pippa was keen to do this earlier this year after the nightmare that saw her wrapping Tim’s presents and delivering them herself last Christmas Eve.

  Pippa pulled herself together and pushed the selection of Christmas gift guides across the low glass table to Tim. “I’ll order drinks, whilst you look at these. Tea?”

  “Lady Grey, no milk…”

  “I know, speak to Alistair about your secret stash.”

  “Please and some madeleines.” Tim perused the Tiffany brochure whilst Pippa discussed their order with a waitress.

  “I’m so sorry, but we don’t have Lady Grey. We do have Earl Grey,” offered the impeccably uniformed waitress, who looked desolate that she wasn’t able to provide what Pippa had requested.