Beaumont Brides Collection (17 page)

‘I’ve nothing to hide.’

‘Maybe not. But this station seems to mean a great deal more to you than your father. He couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the telephone to call me.’

She had been right. The man was a typical chauvinist who wouldn’t knowingly put his precious money into the hands of a slip of a girl. The knowledge that she had kept her secret was deeply satisfying. This wasn’t the moment to declare war, to stand up for her rights. Her time would come.

Fizz swallowed her pride and fixed an earnest expression upon her face.

‘I can assure you that my father is totally committed to Pavilion Radio.’ She tried to remember what he had said the night they went on air. He had been playing the role of public benefactor to the hilt and she had teased him about it for months afterwards as she was swept along on the high of their success. ‘Broomhill is his home and when the franchise was put out to tender he felt that the town deserved better than the usual pop station with advertisements.’ That was the absolute truth. ‘He wanted to ensure the widest possible choice of programmes.’

‘That was what he wanted. What about you?’

‘Me? Oh, I just do the books, keep the place ticking over. Anyone could do it.’ She was well into her part now. ‘If we lost the franchise I’d get another job,’ she said, earnestly. ‘But Dad...’ At this point her father would lay his hand very gently over his heart, but then he was an accomplished actor and was allowed the occasional over-the-top gesture. Fizz refrained from anything quite so dramatic, contenting herself with a telling little shrug.

‘Then I take it that there’s no question of you turning down my offer?’ Luke said, very, very softly. The softer he spoke Fizz decided, the more dangerous he was and she was grateful her hands were fully occupied with knife and fork so that it was quite impossible for her to slap that infuriating look of satisfaction from the man’s face.

Instead Fizz made herself smile. She was certain Luke could hear her jaw creaking with the effort it took.

‘It would be a shame to spoil a good lunch talking about business. I’d much rather listen to you tell me how you made your millions.’

‘Why? Are you hoping for some ideas to make your own fortune?’

‘Oh, I don’t need a fortune. Just enough money to keep the radio station above the waves.’

‘I’m already offering you that for nothing.’

Not for nothing. He was taking and taking and taking. A one man invasion force.

‘I don’t think you’d give me the shavings from your pencil for nothing,’ she said, with exquisite politeness.

‘Don’t you?’ His smile was just a little forced, she thought. She had touched a nerve. ‘I can assure you that I don’t expect you to pay for your own lunch.’

‘And I wasn’t planning to charge you a consultancy fee for helping you to find a house. Shall we leave it at that?’

‘Until Friday.’

‘Until Friday,’ she agreed.

CHAPTER SIX

THE PIER was a heaving mob of youngsters. Luke groaned audibly as they climbed from the car and saw hundreds of girls blocking the way through. ‘Oh, God, it’ll take hours to get Mel out through that lot.’ He clearly wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

Fizz thought that an excellent idea too. Three hours in the company of a man she found in turn ruthless, disdainful and frighteningly attractive, and her attempts to disguise each of those feelings in turn, had left her utterly wrung out. ‘There’s no need to wait, Luke. I’m sure you’ve got a great deal to do.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. But he didn’t make any move to go.

‘You shouldn’t have insisted on looking at that last house, I told you that you wouldn’t like it.’

‘No doubt it gives you enormous satisfaction to know that you were right. I’m afraid it will have to be Winterbourne.’

‘Melanie will be very happy,’ she said, resting a reassuring hand on the soft sleeve of his overcoat. Reassuring. She was reassuring Luke Devlin? She removed her hand, very slowly. It took every ounce of self-control not to snatch it back.

He glanced down at her. ‘Yes, well thank you for sparing so much of your time.’

‘You’ll be late for your meeting,’ she prompted.

He was still reluctant to leave and she was intrigued. If he was really concerned that she might tempt indiscretions from those young lips, it could only mean that there were indiscretions to tempt. ‘I’ll get her back to the Metropole as soon as things quieten down. She’ll be quite safe, I promise.’

He seemed to gather himself. ‘Yes, I’m sure she will.’ Nevertheless he regarded the pier with misgiving. ‘What will you do, call out the lifeboat?’

Fizz grinned. ‘I’m sure the crew would enjoy it enormously, but the coxswain might have other ideas. Don’t worry, the cold will drive these girls home for their tea soon enough.’ She turned up the fleece collar of her jacket against her cheeks. The sun was sinking fast and taking with it all pretence that spring was near.

‘You’d better get out of the cold yourself,’ he said, a little gruffly. ‘Will you tell Melanie not to wait dinner for me?’ Fizz lifted her brows in gentle query. ‘If she wants to know why, say I’m working late, making up the time I spent looking for somewhere for her to live.’

‘I’ll think of you while I’m doing the same.’

‘Will you?’ For a moment they simply looked at one another. Then, as a crowd of girls who had noticed his Aston began to close in on them, clearly hoping that it was their heroine’s transport, Luke surrendered to Fizz’s prompting and climbed back behind the wheel before he was inundated. ‘I’d be grateful if you can ensure that she gets back to the hotel in one piece, Fizz.’

‘No problem.’

‘And thanks for this afternoon.’

She lifted her hand in a small gesture, too small to be called a wave, before turning away and taking a deep breath prepared to tackle the pier.

‘I told you it wasn’t her car,’ one of the girls was muttering as she eased passed the knot of fans at the entrance. ‘She’s got a white stretch limo.’

‘Don’t be stupid. That just brought her from the airport. And anyway he’s definitely her boyfriend.’

The first girl scoffed. ‘Him? He’s as old as my dad.’

‘I don’t care. My mum works at the Metropole and she knows.’

‘Well who’s she then?’ she said, staring at Fizz.

‘She just works at PR. A secretary or something. I’ve seen her before.’

‘Oh.’

Of no further interest to the girls and happy in her anonymity, Fizz slipped easily through the milling crowd of girls. But the front door of the Pavilion had been locked and the foyer lights turned off, presumably to discourage Melanie’s fans. She had her keys, but the girls behind her began to surge forward as they sensed she might provide them with a way in. Instead she rattled the door, then turned and shrugged in a general gesture of helplessness before taking refuge in the restaurant, busy serving afternoon teas to matrons who had also come in to escape the mayhem on the pier.

‘Hello, Fizz.’ The young chef she had chosen to run her newest project was in the kitchen, laying out knives and boards in preparation for the evening.

‘Hi, John. You’re busy today.’

‘We’ve had a rush on afternoon teas,’ he agreed. ‘I just wish I had a hot dog concession out there. Those girls could do with something to spend their money on.’

‘They could have come in here.’

‘If you’d decided on a burger bar they might have. Although frankly I doubt they’d risk missing Melanie Brett.’

‘Mmmm. Well, we stock chocolate in the shop if they’re hungry.’

She would have to find out whether they could have the “I listen to “Holiday Bay”” t-shirts overprinted with Melanie’s name or picture and some new mugs made. Melanie was keen to take part and apparently stuck in Broomhill Bay for the summer. Despite Luke’s warning, Fizz was sure she would still do the show, even if she could pull off a last minute life-saving act and keep Luke Devlin out of the picture.

The young soap star could be a real money spinner for the station and Fizz swore silently that she would take every penny available. She was determined that if she got out of this predicament she would never, ever be held hostage to fortune again. She suddenly realised that John had just said something.

‘I’m sorry, what was that?’

‘I said chocolate doesn’t have the same sensory appeal as frying onions on a cold afternoon. Is this going to happen on a regular basis?’ He nodded in the direction of the pier.

‘There’s no reason why it should,’ she said, anxious to dampen any entrepreneurial ideas John might be nursing. He was a young, talented chef keen to open his own restaurant but for now happy to learn the business and make his mistakes at someone else’s expense. She had no illusions about keeping him for more than a year or two at the most.

He gave her a sideways look while he began to count lemons out of a box.

‘Janice must have got it wrong then.’

‘Janice?’

‘One of the waitresses.’ Fizz knew who she was and made an impatient little gesture. ‘She overheard Melanie Brett telling Andy that she was going to be joining the cast of “Holiday Bay” for the summer.’

Yes!

‘Did she tell anyone else?’

‘The waitress or Miss Melanie Brett?’ John, who spent most of his working life with women, took great enjoyment in winding them up, but something in her expression made him think twice about teasing Fizz any further and he straightened. ‘What do you think?’ he said. Fizz thought it was likely that the news would be all over town by closing time. ‘It is true then?’ John persisted.

There was no point in denying that there was something in the wind. ‘If I can pull if off. Nothing definite. Will you speak to your staff, John? Tell them... Ask them, very politely, to be discrete.’

‘Let me put a hot dog stall out there and I’ll guarantee your secret.’

She hid her irritation. ‘Oh? And how would you do that?’

‘Simple bribery. I’d be able to afford it.’

Fizz wondered how much money a hot dog stall would take on a busy day. Not everyone wanted to come in and sit down to eat. And if it was sited far enough away, down by the bandstand perhaps, it wouldn’t interfere with the restaurant.

It was certainly an idea. Not that she was in a position to give John what he wanted.

The Pier Trust controlled concessions and even if they were prepared to consider such a thing it would have to be put out to tender. By the time that could be organised it would be too late for her. Too late to keep Luke Devlin at bay. So she allowed the smallest expression of regret to cross her features.

‘Unfortunately, John, I refuse to work with the constant smell of frying onions. Or with blackmailers.’

‘Only kidding, boss.’ He shrugged. ‘But if you should ever change your mind…’

‘You’ll be the first to know, I promise. In the meantime will you send a tray of tea up to the Green Room?’

‘Muffins, sandwiches, cake?’

‘Oh, anything you can spare. I’m sure a siege mentality has taken over upstairs and whatever Melanie doesn’t want the gannets in the newsroom will devour.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, since this appears to be the only way into the station, I’ll help myself to your back door.’

She found Melanie already at home in the Green Room, chatting to Andy and a new girl Jim had taken on. Fizz groped in her memory for her name. Shelly? Something like that. ‘Had a good day?’ she asked Melanie, shrugging out of her jacket.

‘Wonderful. I can’t wait to start. Have you got next week’s scripts for me to read?’

‘Yes, they’re about somewhere. Of course we’re going to have to make some changes to ease you into the cast. We’ve got a wedding coming up. It’s been put off twice already,’ she said, with a grin. ‘This time I really thought it might go ahead. But as you may have heard, everything happens in threes.’ She turned to the young reporter. Kelly... ‘Kelly, I think we should embargo the news that Miss Brett is joining the cast of “Holiday Bay” until Friday afternoon.’

She was certain rumours would be flying thick and fast by then, but at least Melanie had heard her give the instruction. It was up to her whether she owned up to her lack of discretion.

‘Perhaps I could do an interview with Melanie for the Friday afternoon magazine programme, Miss Beaumont?’

The girl had quickly learned to grab herself a slice of the limelight. If she was tough enough she would go far. ‘Call me Fizz, everyone does. I’ll let you know, Kelly.’ And Kelly was dismissed. Andy didn’t take the hint. ‘Did the show go well this afternoon?’

‘It was really good. Lots of calls.’

‘Good.’ She glanced at her watch, again. ‘Haven’t you got a disco this evening, Andy?’ Most of the broadcasters had more than one string to their bow and Andy was in great demand not just in Broomhill, but right down the south coast.

‘I was keeping Melanie company until the crowd outside gets a bit thinner.’

‘I don’t think it will be too long, it’s getting very cold.’ She turned to Melanie. ‘And I’ve promised Luke that I’ll see you safely back to the Metropole.’ Fizz gave Andy a look he shouldn’t have been able to ignore. He ignored it.