[Churchminster #3] Wild Things (14 page)

A few minutes later he was back. There were more voices now, and Calypso saw the concerned face of Brenda Briggs.

‘Oh lawks!’ exclaimed Brenda. ‘What on earth are you doing down there?’

‘Will everyone stop asking me that?’ she retorted crossly. ‘I’m not down here for fun.’

A rope was gradually lowered down into the gully.

‘Tie this round your waist,’ ordered Rafe’s voice. Fingers trembling, she tied it round her as tightly as she could. ‘Ready?’ he said. ‘One, two three!’

As if by magic, Calypso felt herself being slowly lifted up. The rope strained and chafed against her skin, and one Kurt Geiger sandal was left stuck in the mud, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get out of there. Then there was a superhuman pull at the other end of the rope and Calypso slithered out of the ditch
and
over the edge, where she lay face first on the grass, panting.

Rafe put the rope down and went over to her. He laid a concerned hand on her arm. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’ve been better,’ she said weakly.

Rafe averted his eyes discreetly.

Behind him Brenda made a coughing sound. ‘Calypso, love, we can see your undies!’

With dawning horror, Calypso realized her dress had been dragged up round her waist, and her oldest, greyest G-string was now on show. Face puce, she pulled her skirt down.

‘Can this get any worse?’ she muttered to herself.

Suddenly two powerful motorbikes pulled up next to Rafe’s sports car, and the riders jumped off. They pulled off their helmets and, producing cameras from their tail packs, started snapping wildly. ‘Rafe, mate! Give us a shot. What’s going on?’

‘How the hell do they
know
about these things?’ Rafe muttered.

‘He just rushed in the shop and asked for a length of rope,’ Brenda told the paparazzi in admiration. ‘Pulled ’er out all by himself, just like in one of his films!’

‘Wow! Rafe, can you give us a comment?’

One of them shoved his camera in Calypso’s face. ‘Are you his girlfriend?’

‘No, I am not,’ she shouted, aware her voice was rising hysterically. ‘I fell in trying to get something.’

Another camera went off in her face.

‘Look guys, I was just driving past and stopped
to
help,’ said Rafe. ‘Could you stop taking pictures? I think this young lady has been through enough.’ Helping Calypso to her feet, he picked up her bag and the money box.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Just get me home,’ she muttered, limping towards the cottage. One paparazzo ran straight in front of her and started snapping away again. ‘Get out of my sodding way!’ Calypso said. She grabbed the man by his camera snap and swung him round, sending him flying. ‘I don’t how you bloody put up with this,’ Calypso snapped at Rafe. There was no way she was breaking down in front of a camera. She just had to get away from everyone.

At the front door, she scrabbled for her keys, well aware the paparazzi were still snapping away, piranha-like, in the background.

Rafe put one placating hand on hers. ‘It’s fine, I’ll have a word with them.’ He shot her a humorous look. ‘This is the second time in as many days I seem to have rescued you. If you want me to ask you out again, you really don’t have to go to all this effort.’

The joke wasn’t appreciated. The pain, shock and humiliation of the last few hours were finally too much for Calypso. She couldn’t believe he’d pull that kind of line now! She located her keys and looked up, eyes blazing. ‘What, do you think I did it on purpose? It might come as a complete surprise to you – but not every girl on the planet finds you irresistible!’

‘I was only trying to—’ Rafe began.

Calypso interrupted. ‘I’ve got an idea about what you can do. Try climbing out of your own arsehole!’

Leaving the film star agape, a shaking Calypso hobbled inside and slammed the door in his face.

Chapter 19

TO HER HUGE
relief, there were no incriminating pictures in the tabloids the next day. Calypso didn’t know what Rafe had said to the paparazzi, but they’d obviously decided not to run the story. Probably had much bigger fish to fry.

Even though Calypso wanted to put the whole sorry episode out of her mind, Camilla was seriously impressed that Rafe had come to Calypso’s rescue. ‘It’s awfully romantic, just like something out of a film!’

‘No, it was wet, muddy, embarrassing and now
both
ankles are killing me. Can you stop going on about it?’

Camilla wasn’t about to give up. ‘But it’s the second time he’s rescued you!’

‘Thanks for pointing it out,’ Calypso replied through gritted teeth.

‘
And
he’s asked you out! Calypso, he’s totally got the hots for you.’

‘You mean he’s totally got the hots for himself. He just wants to impress his own importance on some
poor
little yokel girl who’s gonna think he’s the bee’s knees.’ The thought of her own naked buttocks and grey thong, flashed through Calypso’s mind. She cringed. She never wanted to think about them or Rafe Wolfe again! ‘Enough already. What are you up to?’ she asked, changing the subject. They were sitting in the study, where Camilla had been on the computer. Calypso looked at the screen, which was filled with lines of numbers. ‘Bank stuff, how boring. I wish you’d do mine, might stop me falling in bloody great ditches.’

Camilla hesitated. ‘Can you keep a secret?’

‘Of course. What is it?’

‘I’m setting up a bank account for our …’ Camilla hesitated. ‘For our baby.’

Calypso sat up bolt upright in her seat. ‘What? Oh my God! Are you pregnant?’

‘No, we’re still trying. I’ve only just come off the Pill,’ Camilla laughed, looking at the excitement in her sister’s face.

‘Well, it shouldn’t take long with old super-sperm. I’ve heard you two shagging every night for the past two weeks!’

Camilla went red. ‘Have you really?’

‘Don’t get embarrassed, sis. In fact, I’m rather jealous. I haven’t had it for so long my fanny’s become redundant. May as well start growing potted plants out of it and give myself to the local garden centre.’

‘Don’t be revolting!’ Camilla scolded her, giggling. Her face grew more serious. ‘Can you keep it to yourself? I don’t want everyone asking every five minutes
if
I’m pregnant yet. You know what mummy was like with Caro, and because of my age it might take a bit longer.’

‘You’re hardly over the hill.’

‘All the same, we can’t be too complacent. Besides, I want it to be a lovely surprise for everyone.’

‘Wow,’ said Calypso in admiration. ‘The Bantry enigma settling down and playing happy families. I can’t believe it!’

‘Neither can I,’ admitted Camilla. Her life had never looked so perfect.

Sophia Highforth looked at the ceiling and sighed.

‘Are you nearly finished? I’ve been on my feet for
hours
.’

So had her dresser Katie, who’d been trailing around after Sophia all day. Not that Katie would ever dare mention that.

‘Just a few minutes more, Sophia,’ she said through a mouthful of safety pins. ‘I just need to take it in here.’ Sophia was the one moaning about how the dress made her hips look big, anyway.

Sophia’s BlackBerry started going. She walked over to pick it up, Katie shuffling along behind like some bent-over old lady. ‘Bloody Gordon, that’s the ninth time he’s called today!
Why
doesn’t he leave me alone?’

Katie wished he would, too; she’d had plenty of runins with Sophia’s manager over the past few weeks. As if a bloke like him could tell her how to do her job properly!

Ignoring the call, Sophia looked out of the window
of
her Winnebago. A strikingly handsome man was walking past. Sophia frowned, she was sure she’d seen him before. Hang on – it was that guy from the other day. Jed. Sophia murmured his name under her breath thoughtfully.

‘
Jed, Jed, Jed
.’

‘What’s that?’ Katie asked, trying to keep everything in place as Sophia suddenly walked over to the window. ‘Sophia, if you can just keep still for a moment …’

The actress pointed out the window. ‘He’s rather a dish, isn’t he?’

Katie followed her gaze. Jed was walking off in the distance. ‘He’s got a nice bum.’

Sophia let out a peal of laughter. Her face was an enchanting picture.

If only she was like this all the time
, thought Katie. When Sophia bestowed you with one of her good moods, it was like having a personal ray of sunshine beam down on you.

‘Hasn’t he just? Oh, Katie, you are funny.’

‘Are you going to get someone to introduce you, then?’ Katie asked, eager to prolong the moment.

Sophia laughed again; the sound was like wind chimes tinkling in a summer breeze. ‘Oh, darling, I’m hoping for much more than that.’

Katie wasn’t surprised. She’d worked with Sophia before, and hadn’t seen a man yet who’d resisted her charms.

She doubted this one would be any different.

Chapter 20

CALYPSO WAS IN
her office at Fairoaks, deep in a pile of invoices. No one had prepared her for the less glamorous side of her job.

Her grandmother’s voice called up the stairs. ‘Calypso! You’ve got a visitor.’

Calypso frowned. What now? She’d spent yesterday in back-to-back meetings, and wasn’t scheduled to see anyone. Sighing, she stood up, wincing as one of the grazes on her leg caught the edge of the chair. ‘Who is it?’ she whispered from the top of the stairs. ‘Can’t you get rid of them?’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, one should always keep one’s appointments.’ Clementine disappeared back down the hallway.

‘Oh God!’ huffed Calypso. She really hadn’t got time for this. If it was that travelling salesman from Gloucester selling office stationary again, she knew where to shove his biros. She took a cursory look in the mirror, wiped a smudge of black from under
her
eyes, and went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Clementine was pouring hot water into the coffee pot. ‘The drawing room,’ she said. ‘Run along, you’ve been ages.’

Calypso dragged herself down the long, sun-filled corridor. As she walked into the room, her mouth dropped open in surprise. It wasn’t salesman Terry Locket, with his greasy hair, flasher’s mac, and eternally hopeful expression. Sitting on one of Clementine’s antique chairs, looking perfectly at home amongst the surroundings, was Rafe Wolfe. The terrace doors were open, beckoning in the beautifully sunny day.

‘Hello, Calypso,’ he said easily. ‘How are you feeling?’

He looked freshly shaved and showered, a tang of lemon aftershave already filling the room.

Calypso had barely time to answer before Clementine bustled in with a tray. She put it down on the table. ‘Don’t just stand there gawking,’ she told her. ‘Offer Mr Wolfe a ginger thin.’

Calypso took the plate over. ‘Biscuit?’ she offered sarcastically.

Rafe leaned forward and took one. ‘Thanks.’ He looked round the room. ‘You have a beautiful home, Mrs Standington-Fulthrope.’

‘Thank you,’ said Clementine. She went to pour the coffee.

Rafe leapt up. ‘Here, let me.’

‘If you insist,’ she said, rather pleased. She did like a young man with nice manners.

Rafe started expertly pouring the dark brown liquid.
‘This
reminds me of visiting my own grandmother.’ He handed a china cup on a saucer to Clementine. ‘On a day like today we’d sit out on the balcony and try to identify all the different bird calls.’

‘Rock ’n’ roll,’ Calypso murmured under her breath. They both looked at her.

Clementine raised an eyebrow. ‘Mr Wolfe and I were talking about your latest exploits earlier.’

Calypso didn’t want to dwell on that and swiftly changed the subject. ‘What brings you here, Rafe? In fact
how
did you know I’d be here?’

‘You mentioned you worked out of your grandmother’s house,’ he said casually. ‘And, well, I thought I’d drop by and see if I could take you out for lunch.’

Calypso didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated by his confidence.

Clementine took a sip of her Fortnum & Mason’s Akbar blend. ‘Now then, Mr Wolfe,’ she said briskly.

‘Rafe, please.’

‘Rafe, then. You must tell me all about the filming at Clanfield. I want to keep a close eye on the proceedings because I am so concerned about the effect the film crew will have when it moves down to the village …’

Calypso couldn’t help but smile as her grandmother started grilling Rafe about whether everyone was behaving themselves, and expressing her concerns for the grass on the village green. From baker boy to baronet, Clementine treated everyone the same. It didn’t faze her in the slightest that he was a world-famous film star, having coffee in her drawing room.

‘… So of course I told the ghastly little man where to go,’ she said. She had been telling them about her run-in with the paparazzo.

‘There will be a few more of them, I’m afraid,’ said Rafe apologetically. ‘It’s a regrettable by-product of the job. If it’s any consolation I feel the same way about them that you do.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Clementine, but she didn’t sound cross. Rafe had turned out to be a very polite young man and easy to talk to.

Calypso’s stomach rumbled loudly.

Rafe smiled at Clementine, ‘Would you like to join us for lunch? I’ve been hearing excellent things from the crew about the Jolly Boot.’

Clementine declined graciously. ‘That really is very kind of you, but I have lots to get on with here.’ She looked pointedly at Calypso. ‘Darling?’

Calypso was rather miffed Rafe had just assumed she’d say yes to his invite. But the lunches there were bloody good …

‘All right,’ she said grudgingly. She looked at Rafe, perfectly turned out as always, and then back down at her crumpled T-shirt dress. ‘I’m not changing, though, I can’t be bothered.’

‘Darling!’ reprimanded Clementine, but Rafe looked amused.

‘You look great as you are.’

Clementine rose from her seat. ‘Well, Rafe, it was a pleasure to meet you.’

‘The pleasure was all mine.’

A girlish flush appeared on Clementine’s cheeks. It
wasn’t
every day one got complimented by a handsome chap fifty years one’s junior.