Escape for the Summer (44 page)

For a split second the three of them were frozen in a tableau; Travis lightly touching Andi’s waist as she laughed up at him and Jonty, statue-still in the greenery, the light dappling his face and making his wet skin glitter like one of Stephenie Meyer’s vampires.

Travis’s hands fell away. For the briefest moment Jonty and Andi stared at one another. There was an expression in Jonty’s eyes that she couldn’t fathom before indifference slipped over those finely carved features and masked his thoughts.

“Andi. Travis.” Jonty nodded a curt greeting before turning on his heel and walking back into the shadows.

Andi watched him go with a horrible sense that something fragile had been broken beyond repair. Their easy friendship of the weeks before seemed almost an impossible dream and his unspoken disappointment with her quivered in the air. Andi wasn’t a fool. She knew exactly what this looked like; her with wild hair, wearing yesterday’s crumpled clothes and kissing Travis Chumley goodbye. Yet who was Jonty to judge her? Jonty, who seemed to go running whenever Jax clicked her fingers?

There was a knot in her throat. Why was she filled with the strongest urge to tear after him and explain exactly what had happened? Although the sun was still high in the cloudless sky, Andi felt suddenly cold.

Chapter 39

Gemma was a nervous wreck. So far she’d totally ballsed up a chocolate cake by using plain flour by mistake, dropped a mixing bowl (and splattered the entire kitchen with sponge mix in the process), and spelled the name wrong on the birthday cake she’d been icing. It was hardly surprising. She was so busy checking her phone to see whether Cal had texted that she couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Her hands were shaking so much that it looked as though the three-year-old the cake was intended for had taken matters into his own hands.

Gemma sighed. The way she was performing today, a three-year-old would probably have done a better job. Dipping a palette knife into hot water, she began the soul-destroying task of scraping off the frosted
In the Night Garden
scene that she’d just spent the last twenty minutes struggling to perfect. She really ought to focus on Igglepiggle and Upsy Daisy, but all she could think about was Cal.

Why hadn’t he called? Gemma put the knife down and checked her phone for the umpteenth time, but the little flame of hope that maybe the iPhone had beeped so quietly to itself that she’d missed it died quickly when she saw that the screen was stubbornly blank. Was Cal angry with her? Did he blame her for what had happened? Was he at this very moment wishing he’d never met Gemma Pengelley? Or, even worse, was he so upset and broken by the events of the day before that he was unable to even face talking to her? Gemma hated to think of this scenario even more than she hated to think that maybe he was avoiding her. Cal was such a big personality, in all senses of the word, and she couldn’t bear to think of him being alone and miserable. Knowing Mike and the rest of the entourage, he’d be punished by having to pound on a treadmill or gnaw endless celery sticks like a masticating Sisyphus.

The press had been savage. Dee’s copies of the tabloids lay in a well-thumbed, chocolate-fingerprint-covered pile on the shop counter. After reading several of the red tops, Gemma had felt queasy and unable to face sampling the saffron buns and fairy cakes. Most of her formative years had been spent longing for fame and press exposure, so it was a shock to finally be handed it on a plate – or in this case in a Big Mac box. Headlines like
I’m Loving It – too much
,
Cal-ories
and her personal favourite
Who’s Fat Girl?
were doing things for Gemma’s appetite that Weight Watchers
could only dream of.

Angel, who’d reappeared ridiculously loved up with an adoring Laurence in tow and babbling on about some brilliant idea, had been weirdly delighted by the press attention.

“We must get hold of Cal!” she’d shrieked, bounding around the caravan like a demented creature. “Oh my God! Talk about timing! This is perfect!”

It was the oddest definition of perfect Gemma had ever come across. She’d ignored Angel’s plea for Cal’s phone number and stomped off to rehearsal, where she’d fluffed her lines and generally made a total mess of the part. She had to get a grip, Gemma decided. The first performance was only days away and after all the effort that had gone into it she couldn’t blow it now. So it might only be an amateur production in a small Cornish town, but everyone had worked so hard and there was no way Gemma could let them down. As she mopped up congealing cake mixture, Gemma thought that just as Viola “sat like patience on a monument”, eating her heart out for Orsino, it was ironic that she’d be doing the same for Cal. Her only consolation was that it would hopefully make for a stellar performance. What she’d do when the play, and indeed the summer, was over was anyone’s guess.

She’d worry about that later.

Angel, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all concerned about the future. Gemma had, to her amazement, heard the story about Laurence being as stony broke as her friend – and although there was a certain poetic justice in the situation, she couldn’t help being alarmed. After all, hadn’t the whole point of Rock for Angel been Project Rich Guy? She would have expected her best friend to be furious and straight back to the drawing board, but instead Angel seemed thrilled and unable to let go of Laurence’s hand for a nanosecond. It was all very unusual and, quite frankly, disconcerting.

Angel’s behaviour was nearly as peculiar as her sister’s, Gemma decided as, placing the iPhone out of reach, she returned to the sink and started to rinse out bowls of bilious green and pink icing. Most uncharacteristically, Andi had stayed out all night with none other than Travis Chumley, he of the ridiculous hair and dubious maritime skills. In a million years Gemma would never have pegged the bumptious northerner as Andi’s type. With his flashy cars, ludicrously expensive watch and bulging wallet, she’d have placed her last penny on him being far more Angel’s cup of tea. Andi was brainy and sensitive and, with her gorgeous figure and cloud of tumbling red curls, she looked just like a girl from a Rossetti painting – albeit one who wore jeans and a worried expression. Stacking the empty bowls to drain, Gemma decided that she would have staked her life on Andi carrying a torch for the dark and brooding Jonty. He might not have two pennies to rub together but he had an undeniable presence, and when he looked at Andi his eyes seemed to light up from the inside. Gemma smiled in spite of her misery. Oh, who was she kidding? Jonty was bloody gorgeous: he looked as though he’d stepped straight out of a Calvin Klein advert, with his Gillette-sharp cheekbones, striking eyes and slow sexy smile. She’d seen how other women followed him with their gaze (even while they were seated with their wealthy partners), as he strode across the pontoon. She wouldn’t have blamed Andi in the slightest for falling for him. But no, it seemed that Travis Chumley had mysteriously found his way into Andi’s heart.

Gemma paused, tea towel in hand. After Tom she’d really hoped Andi would have found a man who was worthy of her. Maybe Travis had hidden depths, although from what she’d seen of him so far they were very well hidden indeed!

Still musing on the intricacies of her friends’ love lives, Gemma turned on Pirate FM, fished out her battered copy of
Twelfth Night
and began to measure out icing sugar, butter and drops of colouring to begin again. While she beat the mixture she propped her lines against the packet of Silver Spoon and went over her scenes, determined that at tonight’s rehearsal she’d be word perfect. Wow. It was amazing just how well rhyme went with beating buttercream into submission! Soon she was deep into Act Four, the creamy icing was rising into emerald peaks and Cal’s lack of communication was almost forgotten.

Gemma was so lost in Shakespeare that she didn’t hear the shop bell tinkle or the tap tap of designer shoes tripping across the tiles and into the kitchen. It was only when a harsh sob interrupted Viola’s conversation with Olivia that Gemma looked up and realised she was no longer alone.

Emily, stick-insect model and Cal’s co-star, was standing at the far side of the kitchen.

The spoon clattered into the bowl and Gemma’s heart skipped a beat. Lord, how on earth had Emily crept up on her? It was like something out of
Fatal Attraction.

“My God! You made me jump!” Gemma put her hand on her chest and stared at the other girl. “What on earth are you doing here?”

But Emily didn’t speak. Instead her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a tight line. Gemma felt a prickle of unease. Rather than being her usual arrogant self, all glossy straightened hair and perfect make-up, today Emily looked as though she was fraying around the edges. Her eyes were red, her hair was a mass of tangles, and a crop of spots had appeared on her chin. She looked awful.

“How could you let this happen to Cal?” Emily spat.

Gemma felt sick. Was Cal all right?

“Has something happened to Cal?” she whispered.

“Of course it has, you stupid bitch,” snarled Emily. “As if you don’t know! It’s all your fault! If it hadn’t been for you, Cal would be fine!”

Everything stopped. Gemma was afraid to move. The radio chattered away to itself. Emily seem poised to spring at her; every sinew in the girl’s body was coiled and tense. Gemma gulped. She hoped there weren’t any stray knives lying around. Never mind boiling bunnies. From the expression on Emily’s face, Dee was quite likely to come back and find Gemma bubbling away on the hob.

Abruptly Emily stepped forward and swept her arm across the table. Gemma shrank back as a rush of utensils, bowls and packets flew upwards, crashing onto the tiles and the opposite walls. Icing sugar clouded the air, tingling against Gemma’s teeth and dusting everything. Green buttercream smattered every surface as though Shrek had sneezed, while sharp ceramic shards littered the floor like broken shark’s teeth. Gemma couldn’t believe this display of violence, and for a moment she was afraid to move.

My God! Who would have thought that skinny Emily had that much strength?

Emily crossed the room in a couple of strides, halting only inches away from Gemma. Although she knew she was bigger and stronger, Gemma was afraid because the other girl seemed to have totally lost control. She shrank back against the cooker, little caring that the heat was burning into her calves.

“It’s all your fault!” hissed Emily. Fury twisted her face, blurring those pure lines that sold products and graced magazine covers, until she was unrecognisable. “You’ve ruined everything, you stupid fat cow! If it hadn’t been for you everything would have been fine!”

Gemma felt sick. She didn’t know what had happened, but it must have had something to do with the McDonald’s fiasco.

“Is Cal hurt?” she whispered. Something inside her died at the thought.

“He’s ruined! That’s what he is! All because of you!” Emily jabbed a bony finger into Gemma’s shoulder. He’s going to lose everything and it’s all your fault!”

And then a tide of invective was unleashed as Emily hurled accusations at Gemma about how Cal had lost all of his TV contracts, then his lucrative sponsorship deals with sportswear companies and Weight Busters, and finally about how Emily’s big break, the chance she’d been working towards for years to really make it into television, was well and truly over.

“All because you couldn’t stop stuffing your big fat face!” she finished, concave chest heaving and eyes bright with spite. “My God, look at you! With your cakes and your burgers and your revolting fat body! Don’t you realise what a joke you are? Didn’t you know that was all you ever were to Cal, just a laugh? He probably thought you were the only person who could make him look thinner!”

“That’s not true,” whispered Gemma. Cal was her friend. She knew he was.

Emily’s eyes raked her body scornfully. “Of course it is. You’re a joke. Don’t kid yourself that he ever really took you seriously. You were just somebody to scoff a pie with. And look where that got him. Hanging out with you has cost Cal his career. It’s cost him everything! He wishes he’d never met you! And so do I!”

A burning wave of shame swept over Gemma, but not from Emily’s cruel personal attack. No, Gemma knew she had body issues, but the weird thing was that since she’d arrived in Rock she’d started to make peace with those. Rather, she felt ashamed that she’d supported Cal’s quest to break his diet – encouraged it, even – and guilty too. No wonder Cal hadn’t been in touch. He must be desperately upset and worried. He’d told her how precarious his finances were.

“You know I’m right,” said Emily, when Gemma didn’t respond. “You’ve ruined Callum South’s career and mine. I know you won’t care about me, but I hope you’re proud of yourself for wrecking his life! No wonder he wishes he’d never met you.”

Gemma flinched. She didn’t want to believe this, but Cal’s silence since yesterday spoke volumes.

“I never meant any of this to happen,” she said. Her voice was faint.

“Well it has. You’ve ruined everything.” Emily stalked from the room, pausing in the doorway to survey the devastation. “Everything!”

She spun on her heel. Moments later the shop bell tinkled and Gemma was left alone. The kitchen was quiet again apart from the radio.

Gemma stood still for a moment. Then her eyes filled and the ruined kitchen swam. The truth hit her with gale force. She was a laughing stock and she really had ruined Callum’s career, however unintentionally. No wonder the iPhone had been silent. Callum couldn’t bear to speak to her because he blamed her too. He wouldn’t be calling in a hurry. Emily was right: she’d spoiled everything.

With tears spilling down her cheeks Gemma bent down and began to pick up the broken bowl. The broken pieces of her heart would have to wait.

Chapter 40

“You’re late,” were Jax’s opening words when a breathless Andi knocked on the door of the elegant Victorian townhouse the older woman had rented for August. “You do realise I won’t be paying you for the time you’ve missed?”