[Churchminster #3] Wild Things (34 page)

Calypso looked at her watch. It was 5 p.m. ‘Sod it,’ she said aloud, ‘I’m going to go down there now and surprise him.’ Rafe had always asked her to stay away from the set because he didn’t want to start the gossipy crew chattering but Calypso figured it was so near the end of filming it didn’t matter. They’d be coming ‘out’ as a couple soon, anyway.

‘Just popping out, Granny Clem!’ she yelled. Five minutes later she was approaching the film set, where they seemed to be doing some sort of fight scene with two of the supporting cast members. Rafe was nowhere to be seen. A chunky security man stopped her and asked where she was going.

‘I’m going to see Rafe Wolfe. I’m a friend of his.’

‘You can’t just walk in. You need permission.’

‘How about you’re filming on my grandmother’s land?’ Calypso said testily.

‘You can verify that?’

‘Not unless you want to go and ask her yourself. I warn you, though, she’s quite moody round this time of day.’

The man’s face relaxed. ‘Sorry, love, we’ve got to be careful. Second Winnebago on the left.’

‘Cheers,’ said Calypso and walked off.

The Winnebago was quiet as she approached, curtains pulled across the windows. Maybe he was having a sleep. Calypso knocked softly on the door. ‘Rafe?’ She pushed it open slowly. The van was dark inside, the air rather stuffy, like walking into a person’s bedroom first thing in the morning. ‘Rafe?’ she said again. She was standing in a little kitchen area, which led out to a bigger area on the right. Calypso turned, smiling, expecting to see Rafe fast asleep and looking cute on the sofa bed.

Instead she saw his head between the legs of a skinny brunette. One look at the woman panting in ecstasy and Calypso knew this was no dress rehearsal.

Chapter 45

THE WOMAN NOTICED
her first.

‘Oh my God!’ she cried in an American accent, grabbing a cushion to cover herself. Rafe looked up, surprised. His tanned face went ashen.

Calypso was so shocked she couldn’t speak for a few moments. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

Rafe stood up and hastily did his trousers up. He was topless, his brown torso sweaty, blond hair tousled by having long talons run through it.

Calypso looked at the brunette, who had covered her modesty up in a silk robe, and then back to Rafe. His eyes dropped away. ‘Rafe?’ Calypso tried to make him look at her. ‘I said what’s going on? Who is
she
?’

The brunette swung her long legs and got up. Even though she was half-naked, Calypso could smell the money on her: from the expensively styled hair to the diamonds glinting at her ears and neck.

The brunette put a possessive hand on Rafe’s
shoulder
. ‘I might ask the same question. Who is she, Rafe? Another one of your location conquests?’

He stared at the floor and the brunette laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound.

‘God, you’re so predictable! I suppose he hasn’t told you about me, I’m Daphne Winters. Rafe’s fiancée.’

His
fiancée
!

Calypso’s knees almost buckled underneath her. ‘Rafe, what’s she talking about?’ She looked at him desperately, waiting for him to tell her it was all a horrible misunderstanding.

Daphne spoke instead. ‘It hasn’t been announced yet, but we’re getting married next summer. Five hundred of our closest friends and family. It’s going to be some party.’

Calypso fought back the tears, there was no way she was going to cry in front of them!

Daphne smiled patronizingly. ‘There, there. At least you can pretend in your sad little world that you did mean something to Rafe.’ Her eyes travelled over Calypso’s denim miniskirt and vest, hair scraped back in a messy ponytail. ‘He always does go for someone like you. I suppose when you’ve got steak at home, sometimes you fancy popping out for a hamburger.’

Calypso’s fighting spirit flickered alive. ‘With all that Botox I’m surprised Rafe can tell if you’re dead or alive.’

Daphne’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Rafe, she can’t speak to me like that!’ she snapped.

‘Forget it, I’m out of here.’ Calypso chucked the tickets on the table.

Rafe looked at the tickets, speaking for the first time. ‘What are those?’

‘Tickets, for a romantic break in Paris. Why don’t you save them for your next
conquest
? Daphne here obviously has so little self-respect, I’m sure she won’t mind.’ Calypso turned and strode out of the Winnebago.

The brave front didn’t last long. As soon as she was clear of the film set, the tears started coming thick and fast. She’d been so stupid! She should have seen the signs before, the phone calls from his supposed manager, the fact that Rafe had been so funny about them going out in public, Daphne’s words came back to her:

‘
He always does go for someone like you
.’

How many had there been? Calypso almost gagged. How many more, that he’d taken in with his humble manner and chivalrous act? He was a big fake and he’d conned her. From the sound of it, she wasn’t the first one.

She started running, she had to get as far away as she could from Daphne and the man she thought she’d loved. The rug had been pulled from underneath her, her whole world re-written. There was only one person she wanted to see now. A few minutes later she ran into the kitchen at Fairoaks, mascara running and chest heaving.

‘Oh, Granny Clem! I’ve just found Rafe with another woman!’

Once Calypso had stopped sobbing, she told her grandmother the whole sorry story. ‘I should have listened to my instincts in the first place!’

Clementine smoothed her hair. ‘You weren’t to know, darling. He really did come across as a thoroughly decent chap.’

‘I really loved him, you know. I thought we could build a life together.’ Calypso burst into fresh floods of tears. ‘How could I be so wrong about someone?’

Clementine’s gaze darkened, as distant memories flooded her brain. ‘We’ve all misjudged someone, darling. I know you feel dreadfully let down, but you must take strength from this and move on.’

Clementine held her granddaughter long into the evening. When Calypso asked if she could stay the night and share her bed, just as she had done when she was little, Clementine readily agreed. As Calypso finally dropped off to sleep, Clementine lay listening to the rhythm of her granddaughter’s breathing. She herself had been taken in by Rafe. How could he treat her precious Calypso so appallingly?

The next morning a puffy-eyed Calypso was walking back to the cottage when a car pulled up. She didn’t need to look and see who it was. The passenger-side window slid down.

‘Calypso, can we talk?’ asked Rafe.

She ignored him and carried on walking.

‘Calypso!’

The car was beside her now, following. Rafe leaned over.

‘At the very least, let me reimburse you for the Eurostar tickets.’

He tried to catch her eye. ‘That was really nice of you by the way.’

‘I don’t want your money,’ she said stonily.

Rafe pushed the door open.

‘Get in Calypso. Please.’

She hesitated.
Might as well listen to what he’s got to say for himself
, she told herself, as she climbed in.

They drove in silence until they reached a lay-by outside Churchminster. Rafe cut the engine.

‘What did you want to tell me?’ Calypso asked bluntly. He turned to face her, but Calypso resolutely kept her gaze ahead, afraid that if she did turn and look into those deep blue pools, she just might just forgive him for being a philandering, cheating arsehole. ‘Actually let me ask you something first. Your dear grandmother on her deathbed, that was a load of bollocks wasn’t it? You were meeting up with Daphne, weren’t you?’

He looked away.

‘That’s really low.’ Calypso was disgusted.

‘It’s not how you think,’ he said.

She gave a derisive snort.

Rafe tried to touch her on the arm, but she pulled it away. ‘Daphne is my fiancée, but I swear to you that when we first met, we were on a break.’

‘And when did this “break” finish?’ she asked, feigning big interest in a blackbird that had flown on to a branch in front of them.

‘A few weeks after we met.’

‘A few
weeks
?’ Incredulous, Calypso turned to face
him
. ‘So basically, you’ve been pulling the wool over my eyes the whole time? For Christ’s sake, Rafe!’

Despite what he’d done, Rafe still looked impossibly handsome. His full lips, the contours of his jaw, that she had traced with her fingers so many times … Calypso forced herself back against the car door, putting as much space between them as possible.

‘You did mean something to me!’ he urged. ‘You still do. By the time Daphne and I got back together, I had fallen so badly for you I couldn’t break it off.’

‘So break it off with Daphne,’ she said casually.

Rafe looked sheepish. ‘It’s more complicated than that. Daphne’s dad is a big studio boss in LA; he’s got great plans for my career.’

‘Glad to see you’ve got your priorities sorted,’ she said acidly. ‘What’s in it for Daphne? Why does she put up with your little indiscretions?’

Rafe gave a little grin. ‘Come on, I’m not exactly a bad catch. Daphne’s more of a social climber than her daddy, she wants to see us on every best-dressed list in town.’

Calypso looked at him, really
looked
at him properly for the first time, gazed beneath the film-star looks and charming veneer. She didn’t like what she saw.

Rafe mistook her silence for something else. His hand edged on to her bare thigh. ‘We had a great time, didn’t we, Calypso? We can still go on having good times if you want to.’ He gave her a meaningful look. ‘The ball’s in your court.’

She shot him an equally meaningful one back. ‘Then take your fucking hand off and drive me home.’

Chapter 46

TWO DAYS LATER
the film crew packed up and left the village, the only sign they’d ever been there a tatty luminous sign fluttering from a telegraph pole on the Bedlington Road. For Clementine, it was a huge relief. Even though it hadn’t turned out as badly as she had expected and the location fee had come in very handy indeed, she was pleased they could finally get on with the task in hand.

Calypso had been left with a wealth of emotions. It was the first time she’d ever really been hurt, and boy, was it painful. Even though she had managed to keep up a front with Rafe, it didn’t stop her spending hours sobbing while Camilla held her. The worst thing for Calypso was that she was grieving for a relationship that hadn’t been real, for a man who hadn’t existed. She was alternately furious with herself for falling for the nice-guy act, and with Rafe for pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Most of all, though, there was heartache. A huge hole had been left in her life, a life
that
she had imagined ending happily ever after.

‘Do you think I meant anything to him?’ Calypso sobbed one night on the sofa in the cottage.

‘Darling, I really do,’ said Camilla. She’d seen the way Rafe had looked at her sister. Pity he’d neglected to mention there was a fiancée in the background. What a bastard! She’d never pay money to see a Rafe Wolfe film again.

Aside from Calypso’s anguish Camilla was uncomfortably aware that things still weren’t right with Jed. The euphoria and closeness they’d shared again on him getting the all-clear had been a fleeting experience. Several times she’d walked into the living room to find him staring into space and he seemed edgy with her, like he was back holding her at arm’s length. They hadn’t had sex since but Camilla didn’t want to push it. She told herself that Jed was coming round from the shock of the whole thing, that it would take time to get back to normal after going through such a traumatic experience. These words were becoming harder to believe by the day however.

It was Thursday, the 17th of July. In twenty-four hours’ time, the Britain’s Best Village judges would descend on Churchminster, bringing their voting pads with them, along with the chance to change the lives of everyone for ever. The whole village was aware of the irony that it was almost a year to the day that the floods had rampaged through, ripping apart homes, businesses and people’s livelihoods.

Churchminster would always carry the scars of that
dreadful
summer, but over the past twelve months they had picked themselves up. In fact, standing on the green that warm summer’s evening with the rest of the Garden Party, Clementine felt a huge sense of pride about what they’d all achieved. OK, so they had been blighted by the blasted vandals – who Bedlington police still hadn’t caught yet – but there was no doubt the village was looking great. Front gardens were well-kept, with an array of flowers in each one. The village green looked pristine. The shop was doing a roaring trade, the Jolly Boot was filled with Pimms-drinking punters every lunchtime and evening. The notice board outside the village hall was festooned with flyers for mum and baby coffee mornings, charity bike rides, OAP bingo evenings and lunches, under-eighteen workshops, local gardens open to the public; all the elements that make for a happy, prosperous community.

This really, was what Britain’s Best Village was about. It wasn’t just appearance that mattered, but what was happening underneath. Did the village have a heart and soul? Did everyone look out for each other? It might not be the grandest place in the land, but Clementine took huge satisfaction in knowing that Churchminster was a place that people wanted to
live in
, not just drive through on a day out. It was this single factor that convinced her they could still win BBV.