The Perfect Hero (28 page)

‘Oli?’ Gemma said.

He turned to look at her.

‘Are you really thinking of giving up acting?’

He smiled at her. ‘I did four films last year. Four. Two full-blown movies and two for television. It barely left me time to breathe. Don’t get me wrong – I love my work and I certainly love the lifestyle it’s allowed me but there’s got to be more to life.’

Gemma nodded and couldn’t help smiling at the uncanny resonance of his words. ‘I was thinking exactly the same thing.’

He looked at her and chuckled. ‘You were?’

She nodded.

‘Then you should do something about it.’

They began to walk again, their feet stumbling over the white stones on the beach.

‘Acting’s all I’ve ever known,’ Gemma said.

Oli nodded. ‘Me too. Although I did that modelling stuff as a teenager.’

‘Yes,’ Gemma said, remembering seeing the pictures that had been recently rediscovered and splashed all over the papers. ‘I did that too.’

‘God!’ Oli suddenly said, coming to a standstill and raking a hand through his hair. ‘I mean –
God!
’

Gemma watched him in silence for a moment. He appeared to be wrestling some inner demons.

‘I need to do something different,’ he said at last. ‘I need a change because this just isn’t working out. I mean – I’m a mess. My life’s a bloody mess and I’ve got to sort it out.’

Gemma wondered what he was talking about. Was he meaning the endless stream of girlfriends that he was photographed with? The empty relationships and the never-ending line of airports and hotels where weeks were wasted so that a two-hour film could be made?

‘I’ve been thinking for a while now – is it all worth it, what we do? Does it make us happy? And I’m not just talking about that momentary happiness that comes from a good day’s work but real, satisfying happiness that comes from knowing you’ve made a difference.’

Gemma was a little surprised to hear all this from Oli. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘films can make a difference to people. They’re pretty powerful things sometimes. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to be an actress. I remember watching
Terms of Endearment
when I was a kid and crying for weeks after and I couldn’t help wondering what it must feel like to be an actress and to have such an effect on your audience.’

Oli nodded. ‘It was Indiana Jones for me. I wanted to be a hero and make the girls swoon.’

‘And you are – you do,’ Gemma said, sure a little blush was now colouring her face.

‘But I’m just not connected to it like I was before, you know? It doesn’t give me that same buzz.’

They both stood for a moment, gazing out to sea.

‘You’ve met someone, haven’t you?’ Gemma said, looking at Oli. ‘That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?’

He didn’t answer for a moment. He looked down at the pebbly ground and kicked one boot against the other like a schoolboy.

‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘there is somebody.’ A tiny smile played around the corners of his mouth. ‘And I’m not being fair to her. In fact, I’ve been an absolute bastard because my work takes up pretty much all of who I am. If I’m not reading scripts, I’m acting them out or promoting them or travelling from location to location or in meetings with agents and directors. It never ends and I know I’m sounding like a spoilt kid and I know this was exactly the life I’d dreamed of all those years ago watching those Indiana Jones movies but it’s not the same now.’ He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling.

Gemma wondered if she dared to push for more. ‘You’ve been seeing her for a while?’

Oli looked at her and grinned. ‘Long enough to know,’ he said.

Hmmm, Gemma thought. That could mean anything. It could be a long-term relationship or a whirlwind romance and it was more likely to be the latter with Oli.

‘That’s brilliant, Oli,’ she said. ‘I’m really happy for you.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. He gazed at her with his big blue eyes and Gemma couldn’t help feeling just a little bit jealous that it wasn’t her that his feelings were being channelled towards.

Pull yourself together,
she told herself.
Oli Wade Owen is nothing more than a crush. You’re not in love with him – not really.

She looked at him again as they began to walk back towards the town. For years, she’d thought he was the perfect hero – the perfect man. With his tall, lean figure, handsome face and roguish ways, he’d made for many a happy fantasy but, having worked with him over the last few weeks, Gemma had slowly come to realise that she wasn’t in love with him at all. She still found him attractive which was just as well because it was so much easier to get into the character of Anne Elliot if she actually fancied the man playing Captain Wentworth but – as Gemma Reilly – she was beginning to realise that she was looking for more than a handsome face. She wanted somebody she could talk to – really talk to – and somebody who was interested in her. Like Rob.

She frowned. Why had his name suddenly popped into her head? Just because they’d had a couple of conversations, it didn’t mean that she was interested in him. But at least he’d seemed interested in her. Whereas Oli clearly had somebody else on his mind.

As they walked back towards Wentworth House, moving through the evening crowds who were out in search of seaside food, Gemma couldn’t help wondering who Oli’s girl was. He’d certainly been flirting with Kay at the bed and breakfast. Was she the girl who was about to change his life around?

But there was something else about what Oli had said that had really resonated with her. She wasn’t happy, was she? Whereas Oli had slowly felt himself moving away from acting as a profession, Gemma was beginning to realise that she’d never totally engaged with it. It wasn’t right for her and something had to change.

‘And I’m the only person who can change it,’ she said to herself.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Kay was in the kitchen when she heard the front door again. She put down the cookery book. The black forest gateau was far beyond her capabilities anyway but the lemon drizzle cake had come out a treat.

‘Just wait there,’ she told the cake before venturing through to the hallway. ‘Hello?’ she called.

‘Hello, my lovely,’ a voice said.

‘Oli!’ she said. ‘Come through to the kitchen. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

His eyebrows rose and he followed her through. ‘What’s all this, then?’

Kay pulled the rose-festooned tin towards her and prised the lid off to reveal the cake.

‘For me?’

‘I made it this afternoon,’ Kay said, thinking it was probably wise not to mention the help she’d had. ‘Would you like some?’ She rushed forward to open a cupboard and reached in for two pretty yellow plates which she deemed perfect for lemon cake. ‘Oli?’

When she turned round, she saw that his eyes were closed and his face looked as pale as the moon.

‘You look absolutely drained,’ she said, placing the plates on the worktop.

‘I am absolutely drained.’

‘Is there anything I can get you?’ she asked him.

He opened one eye and looked at her. ‘What are you offering?’

Kay blushed. ‘I was thinking of a drink – maybe a mug of hot chocolate?’

His other eye opened and he grinned. ‘What a sweetheart you are.’

‘Is that a yes, then?’

‘Don’t you have any whisky?’

She shook her head.

‘Okay – hot chocolate it is, then.’

‘Why don’t you go and sit down in the living room? Here,’ she said, quickly cutting a thick slice of cake, ‘take this with you. Keep your strength up.’

Oli eyed the plate proffered to him and nodded before leaving the kitchen. He hadn’t looked at all enthusiastic about the cake. Maybe it wasn’t as good as she’d first thought.
No, he’s just tired,
she thought.
He puts all his energy into his work. You can’t expect boundless enthusiasm after hours,
she told herself as she got a milk pan out from the cupboard.

As she stirred a generous heap of cocoa powder into the milk and added some sugar, she checked her reflection in a metal spatula and decided that a touch of lip gloss wouldn’t go amiss. She’d hidden one in the tea towel drawer for such occasions and brought it out now. Then, placing the yellow mugs on a tray, she went to find Oli.

He didn’t look up as she entered the living room. His eyes were closed and Kay wondered if he’d fallen asleep on the sofa. It was easy for her to think that he was here as her boyfriend and not as a paying guest. That was the trouble with living in one’s workplace, she thought; lines were so easily blurred.

‘Oli?’ she whispered, putting the tray on the coffee table in front of him.

‘Tibs?’

Kay frowned. ‘It’s Kay.’

He opened his eyes and smiled and was instantly forgiven.

‘Who’s Tibs? A cat?’

Oli didn’t answer. ‘I forgot where I was there.’

‘I’ve got your chocolate,’ she said, handing him a mug. ‘It’s hot. Be careful.’

‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘Oh, you haven’t eaten your cake,’ she said, her disappointment undisguised.

Oli cleared his throat and leant forward. ‘Was just about to,’ he said.

Kay smiled and did her best not to watch him like a hawk as he took his first bite.

‘Okay?’

‘Delicious,’ he said, wolfing the rest of it down.

‘I made it for you,’ she said and then blushed. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

‘Did you? What a doll you are.’

‘So, how was your day?’ she asked.

‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?’ he said.

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Kay lied; she’d have loved to have heard all about his day on the set. Instead, she watched as he downed his hot chocolate in one. It was then that the door opened and Les Miserable came in followed by Teresa and a hobbling Beth.

Kay got up to greet them. ‘Can I get you anything?’

Teresa didn’t answer and Beth shook her head and almost crashed into the hallway table. Only Les answered.

‘Don’t worry about us,’ he said. ‘We’ve all eaten.’

‘There’s some cake if you want it,’ Kay said and watched as everyone filed upstairs. ‘Guess not.’

Oli suddenly appeared in the doorway. He was watching the retreating figures.

‘Goodnight,’ he called up after them.

‘Night,’ Les called.

‘Night, Oli sweetheart,’ Beth said, turning round and flashing a scarlet-painted smile at him.

Teresa didn’t say anything.

‘I need some air,’ Oli said. ‘You want to come with me?’

Kay nodded. It was an easy decision to make.

Gemma hadn’t gone back to the bed and breakfast after she and Oli had left Monmouth Beach. She’d hung back somewhere along Marine Parade and had then doubled back to buy herself an ice cream from a nearby shop that was still open. She should really eat something proper but she couldn’t face a crowded pub that evening – not when her mother might make her presence felt at any given moment – so she took her strawberry cornet and sat down on the low wall that overlooked the beach, kicking her shoes off and feeling the sand beneath her toes.

It almost felt as if she was on holiday and that was a feeling she hadn’t had for a number of years now. Not since – when? That terrible trip to Spain with a friend who’d abandoned her as soon as she’d clapped eyes on that handsome DJ. Why did so much of a woman’s life revolve around men? It was the same in Jane Austen’s time but surely things had moved on since then? After all, a woman didn’t need a man any more. She could make her own way in the world now. So why did modern-day heroines insist on finding a hero? Couldn’t a girl be happy on her own?

No,
a little voice said.
Life would be pretty dull without them
.

No it wouldn’t,
Gemma thought. It would be calm and contented. It would be a place free from impossible crushes and gut-wrenching heartache and it would allow you to focus on other things like your work.

But you don’t like your work
, the little voice said.

Then I’d have more time to find out what it is I really want.

‘Hello,’ another voice said – one from outside her own private thoughts. She looked up and there was Rob, a great fat ice cream in his hand. ‘Great minds and all that,’ he said. ‘Is this wall taken?’

Gemma shrugged and he took that as invitation enough.

‘Mint chocolate chip,’ he said with a wink. ‘Best flavour in the world. What’s yours?’

‘Strawberry.’

‘And I had you down as a double chocolate sort of a girl.’

‘Did you?’

He nodded and Gemma didn’t like to ask what had made him draw such a conclusion about her taste buds.

‘You didn’t want to join the others in the pub?’ he said, motioning to The Harbour Inn behind them.

Gemma shook her head. ‘Too much noise.’

‘And it’s been a noisy day too, hasn’t it? I mean on the set.’

Gemma nodded and Rob gave a long low whistle.

‘I don’t think we’ll ever get this film finished,’ he said.

‘Oh, don’t say that!’

His eyebrows rose at her exclamation. ‘You know, you’re the least likely actress I’ve ever met.’

‘What do you mean?’ Gemma said, immediately on the defensive.

He shook his head. ‘Now, don’t get me wrong because I didn’t mean you couldn’t act – I think you’re one of the best actresses we have in this country and I’d be very surprised if Hollywood didn’t snap you up and whisk you away but – well – it doesn’t seem to suit you.’

Gemma frowned. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Yes you do,’ Rob said, completely undeterred by her unwillingness to engage with him on the subject. ‘I’ve been watching you and . . .’ he held his hand up as he tried to deflect the glare directed at him by such an admission, ‘I can’t help noticing how unhappy you look. Don’t deny it! I’ve seen you.’

Gemma didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. Acting was nerve-racking enough without knowing that people were watching you off set as well as on.

‘Watch it!’ Rob suddenly said, pointing to her ice cream. ‘You’ve got a drip – right there!’

‘Where?’