The Perfect Hero (16 page)

‘Oh,’ Gemma said, disappointed by this bit of news.

‘Where’s Oli?’

‘I think he went off for lunch,’ Gemma said.

‘Will he be coming back?’ Emily asked, her face eager for information.

‘Are you hoping for his autograph to sell?’ Gemma asked, knowing it was mean but unable to resist.

‘Oh, no,’ Emily said. ‘I’ll keep
his
autograph. What about Beth Jenkins? Is she around?’

‘I’m afraid she twisted her ankle and won’t be filming again today.’

‘Oh,’ Emily said. ‘I really wanted her autograph too. She’s really famous, isn’t she?’ And then she turned and left, making Gemma feel like a very poor substitute indeed.

As Gemma stood trying not to feel too sorry for herself, she felt a hand land on her shoulder and she spun around.

‘Nice work, Gemma,’ Les Miserable said with something that almost approached a smile but wasn’t quite.

‘Thank you. I thought it w—’ She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because he was walking away in search of lunch but she was grateful for having had anything remotely approaching a compliment from Les Miserable.

‘You want some lunch, then?’ Sophie asked, coming out of the costume trailer wearing a duffle coat over her Regency dress.

‘I’d love some,’ Gemma said and the two of them walked along the Lower Cobb together.

‘Poor old Beth,’ Sophie said. ‘I mean, she’s not my favourite person in the world but I hope she’s not done anything too nasty.’

Gemma nodded. ‘She really threw herself from those steps, didn’t she?’

‘I think she only did it to impress Oli.’

‘Well, I think it worked.’

‘Do you?’ Sophie said.

‘He swooped her up, didn’t he?’

‘But he would have done that for anyone. Even if Les Miserable had taken a tumble.’

Gemma laughed. ‘But the way they looked at each other . . .’ she said. ‘There’s got to be something going on.’

‘It’s only Beth who gives the looks,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ve not seen Oli show any interest in her.’

‘Haven’t you?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘I think he’s got his eye on somebody else.’

‘Who?’

Sophie pursed her lips together. ‘I think . . .’ She stopped.

‘What?’

‘Oh my God!’ Sophie suddenly exclaimed. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

‘Who?’

‘Wow!’ Sophie’s eyes were wide with excitement. ‘I mean – blimey!’

‘Who are you looking at?’ Gemma asked. She’d taken her contact lenses out for filming and her long-distance vision wasn’t good.

‘And she’s still so stunning. Not that she’s old or anything,’ Sophie said, grabbing Gemma’s arm. ‘But she doesn’t look a day over forty, does she?’

Gemma looked around and her eyes landed on a figure she hadn’t expected to be there. Even without her contact lenses, there was no mistaking her or the work she’d had done to keep the ageing process at bay.

‘Gemma!’ the woman with the sleek black bob called, a manicured hand waving in the air.

Gemma walked towards her and was instantly enclosed in a heavily perfumed embrace.

‘Hello, Mum,’ she said.

* * *

Kay was watching Beth being examined by Dr Floyd – a portly gentleman whose fat hands were holding Beth’s ankle oh-so-gently.

‘Well, there are no bones broken,’ he said with a smile. ‘But it’s a very nasty sprain.’

‘Nothing broken?’ Beth groaned. ‘Then why does it hurt so much?’

‘You put the entire weight of your body on this little ankle,’ Dr Floyd said, using the excuse to stroke Beth’s leg again. ‘You’re very lucky it’s only a sprain.’

Beth grimaced and Kay bet she wished it was Oli’s hands that were touching her and not an overweight GP’s.

‘And I’m glad to see you’re already doing all the right things. Plenty of rest, try to keep the foot elevated and ice is an excellent idea to prevent swelling.’

‘Can I get you anything?’ Kay asked Beth as the doctor left the bed and breakfast. ‘Another cup of tea?’

‘God! I’ve got more tea swirling around my system than blood.’

‘Any magazines to read? Or a book? I’ve got all the Jane Austens,’ Kay said.

‘A sprained ankle
and
Jane Austen – could the day get any worse?’

Kay frowned. She always made the mistake of assuming that everyone loved Jane Austen as much as she did. ‘I’ll leave you to have a little rest, then.’

‘KAY!’ Beth called. ‘Don’t leave me, will you?’

‘I’ll only be upstairs or in the kitchen.’

Beth pouted. ‘Nobody cares! Everyone’s forgotten about me.’

‘No we haven’t,’ Kay said. ‘But I’ve got baths and sinks to scrub – that’s all.’

‘Will you come and talk to me later?’

‘Of course I will.’

Beth nodded. ‘Maybe I’d better have a book – just for company.’

Kay smiled. ‘I know just the remedy,’ she said. ‘Wait here.’ She returned seconds later with an old paperback copy of
Pride and Prejudice
. ‘It’s the best medicine there is.’

Beth gave a little smile, not looking totally convinced. ‘Well, seeing as there isn’t a single glossy magazine in this establishment, I’ll give it a go.’

Kim Reilly’s arrival in Lyme caused no end of excitement and Gemma was soon forgotten in the general scrum to get close to the famous actress. Hot dogs by the harbour were abandoned and a sit-down meal in The Harbour Inn was demanded by the cast and crew as Kim regaled them with stories of her career.

‘Take after take in that jumpsuit!’ Kim said, sipping a lunchtime martini. ‘I tell you, I lost a stone in weight that day.’

‘You didn’t need to,’ Oli said. ‘You were always the perfect shape. If you don’t mind me saying so!’

‘Honey, I don’t mind you saying so,’ Kim said, batting enormous eyelashes at Oli.

‘Do you still have the jumpsuit?’ Sophie asked. Gemma rolled her eyes. Her mother’s famous jumpsuit had been regularly wheeled out at parties over the years as guests would harangue her until she put it on, posing and pouting for photographs in the iconic outfit.

Kim waved a hand in the air as if batting the question away in embarrassment. ‘I think I may still have it somewhere.’

‘And I bet it still fits you like a glove!’ Oli said.

Gemma groaned inwardly. She really wished Oli wouldn’t encourage her mother. Not that she needed any encouragement. She’d always had the knack of steering the conversation around to whatever she wanted to talk about and – sooner or later – the famous black jumpsuit would be the topic of conversation.

‘I’m just going to make a call,’ Gemma said, getting up from the table in the corner of the pub.

Gemma wasn’t going to make a call. She just needed to get away for a moment. Goodness, her mother had been in Lyme Regis for less than half an hour and she was already driving her nuts.

What is it about her that upsets you so much? she asked herself, looking in the mirror of the ladies’ toilets where she’d taken refuge.

‘She always,
always
upstages me,’ she said to her reflection.

But doesn’t everyone? That’s one of the downsides of being shy.

It was also, perhaps, one of the reasons Gemma had become an actress. There was a part of her that wanted to shine just as brightly as her mother. She wanted people to see that she counted too. She wasn’t just Kim Reilly’s daughter; she was a person in her own right and she didn’t need a black jumpsuit either. She had as much talent as her mother ever had.

But competing with your mother was exhausting and Gemma wondered why she even tried because it was always going to be a losing battle that she didn’t really want to win anyway.

‘Not
really
,’ she said to herself. Because she knew she wouldn’t be happy being the centre of attention. As much as she’d love Oli to look at her the way he was looking at her mother and pay her that sort of attention, she knew it wasn’t really in her to command such interest.

She’d rather be sitting in a nice comfy room somewhere with a cup of tea and her knitting. She laughed at the image. She sounded ancient before her time, didn’t she?

She fished in her handbag for her lip gloss, covering her lips with a nice red coat. It looked funny with her Anne Elliot hair and her Regency costume but it made her feel a little less invisible.

Just then, the door to the Ladie’s opened and her mother stepped inside.

‘There you are!’

‘Mum!’

‘I thought you were making a call. Where’ve you been?’ She looked annoyed and Gemma guessed that she’d missed her mother recounting some scintillating anecdote which she’d heard a hundred times. ‘And why aren’t you out there flirting with that gorgeous man?’

‘Who? Oli?’

‘Of course Oli. Who else?’

For a moment, the face of Rob floated before Gemma’s eyes.

‘Because, if you don’t make a move on him, I will!’ her mother said with a lascivious wink.

‘Oh, Mother!’

‘Don’t
oh, Mother
me!’ she said, nudging her daughter out of the way so she could get to the mirror. ‘Honestly, you’re so like your father sometimes! He used to skulk in corners too.’

Gemma frowned. She’d never really known her father. According to her mother, the marriage had been ‘short but not sweet’ and they’d promptly divorced. She couldn’t really blame her father because she knew her mother must have been a nightmare to live with.

The last she’d heard, her father had remarried and was living in Canada with his new family. How strange, Gemma thought. Somewhere in the world, she had a brother and a sister that she didn’t even know. It seemed such a shame.

Coming back to the present, she watched as her mother applied a coat of bright lipstick. It was called Red Vamp and her mother had been wearing it for about twenty years longer than she should. Then came the powder – a dab here and a dab there. Gemma knew the routine so well. Then the perfume. Three liberal squirts of Lady of the Night. Gemma grimaced. She’d never liked the perfume, finding it heavy and cloying, but her mother never travelled anywhere without it.

‘Will I do?’ she asked, her fingers pulling her dark hair until it was just right.

‘You’ll do,’ Gemma said and they left the Ladie’s together.

‘Just one thing, darling,’ her mother said, stopping her before they got back to their table.

‘What?’

‘Try and make an effort with everyone. You’ve been sitting at the table like a stuffed doll but you can be quite the sparkling personality when you want to be, only I get the feeling that you never do.’

Gemma sighed. Well, at least her mother understood one thing about her.

Chapter Twenty

After a lunch filled with even more anecdotes from Kim Reilly’s days as a TV sex goddess, it was time to resume filming.

‘It was lovely to see you,’ Gemma said, leaning forward to kiss her mother’s cheek with the generosity of spirit available to one who knew their guest was leaving.

‘You say that as if I’m going somewhere!’ Kim said.

‘You’re not going home?’

‘I’ve only just arrived!’ she laughed.

‘You mean you’re staying?’

‘I’ve booked a couple of nights at some bed and breakfast down the road. Charmouth?’

Gemma nodded. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Of course you didn’t. I wanted to surprise you! I thought I’d better come and see if my daughter really could act.’

Gemma swallowed hard, knowing that her mother wasn’t exaggerating. She’d be wanting to know if all the drama school fees she’d paid over the years had been worth it.

‘Is that a good idea?’ Gemma said lamely. ‘I mean, I don’t know if Teresa will—’

‘Oh, I’ve sorted all that out. She’s said I can stay as long as I like. In fact, she said she’d value my opinion. I could maybe give her some direction, what with all my experience.’

‘But you’ve never directed.’

‘My darling girl, you don’t need experience in this business. You just need opportunity and a bit of cheek.’

She watched as her mother waltzed over towards Teresa and then closed her eyes. This was a nightmare.

Sophie tapped her shoulder. ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘I wish I had a mum like yours.’

Gemma was very tempted to say,
take mine
, but resisted, thinking that it might sound ungrateful.

‘I can’t believe she came down to see you.’

Gemma shook her head. ‘She’s not here to see me. She’s here so people can see her.’ She watched in horror as her mother joined Teresa. Oli was deep in conversation with her but the two of them broke off when Kim approached and Gemma looked on as her mother batted her long eyelashes at him again.

‘Angela Tyrrel was one of the defining roles of seventies cult television,’ she heard Oli say to her mother.

‘Oh, you’re too sweet.’ She was lapping up praise like a kitten would cream.

No, Gemma thought, her mother wasn’t here to see her at all.

‘It’s so unfair!’ Beth complained from the sofa. ‘Everyone’s down the pub having fun with Kim Reilly and I’m stuck here with a sore ankle!’

It was ten o’clock in the evening and word had reached the bed and breakfast of Kim Reilly’s arrival.

‘I’m stuck here too,’ Kay said.

‘Yes, but you don’t count,’ Beth said with a sigh.

Kay looked across at Beth, shocked by her comment.

Beth turned to see her expression. ‘You know what I mean; you’re not an actress – it couldn’t possibly mean as much to you to meet Kim Reilly as it would to me.’

Kay supposed she was right in her own rude way but she would still have liked to have seen the famous actress. Not that she didn’t have famous actresses coming out of her ears and Beth was more than enough for any sane person to cope with.

‘God, I’m bored!’ Beth said with an enormous sigh. ‘I could never have lived in Jane Austen’s time and just hung around the house all day.’

Kay looked across at her. ‘How are you getting on with
Pride and Prejudice
?’

‘Oh, I got fed up with it,’ Beth said. ‘I read as far as that ball where Elizabeth gets in a tizz with Darcy for not dancing with her and gave up.’

Kay’s mouth dropped open. That was one of her favourite bits. How could somebody give up there? she wondered. ‘You really should read some more.’