The Perfect Hero (8 page)

In the meantime, the artist in her got the better of her and she opened her pad and began sketching. That beautiful slope of his forehead, that perfect nose and strong jaw, the sensual curve of his smile and the buttery floppiness of his hair. Kay quickly sketched – her eyes focusing through the binoculars and then down on her pad, capturing the magic of the man as quickly as she could. She was just putting the finishing touches to it when she looked through the binoculars again. Oli had turned around and he was waving. Kay moved the bin oculars to the right, trying to see who he was waving to and then something odd happened: Oli pointed towards her, a big grin on his face.

Kay gasped. He was waving at her. She bit her lip and quickly got up to leave but it was too late, of course. She’d been well and truly rumbled. She closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself a good old cringe. What on earth would Oli think of her now? He’d think she was some ogling star-struck fan. It was awful! She’d just have to try and explain what she was doing.

You were ogling him
, a little voice inside her said as she quickly headed back home.

‘No I wasn’t. I was sketching him as part of my work. He is playing Captain Wentworth, after all.’

You were ogling him! You know you were!

Kay groaned. She had better things to do than stand around arguing with herself. There was the dishwater to load for a start.

She was just piling in the dishes and thanking her lucky stars that she’d had the foresight to buy one when there was a knock at the door. For a moment, her heart raced. Maybe it was Oli. He’d raced back to the B & B after seeing her ogling him –
watching
him. It had suddenly dawned on him that she was the girl for him. How hadn’t he seen it sooner? He should have realised it when she’d been serving him breakfast. Oh, all the time they’d wasted!

Kay opened the door. It was a man all right but it wasn’t Oli.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Hello,’ Kay said, her heartbeat returning to something approaching normality again.

‘I’m Adam. Adam Craig.’

‘I’m afraid we’re full at the moment. If you’re looking for a room,’ Kay said.

‘Oh, I’m not,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for Teresa. I believe she’s staying here.’

‘She’s down at the Cobb,’ Kay said. ‘They left about ten minutes ago. You can’t miss them – they’ve practically taken over the whole of that part of town.’

Adam turned to look in the direction of the Cobb. ‘Ah, yes. I should have thought to go there first.’

‘You’re with the film people?’ Kay asked.

He nodded. ‘I’m the screenwriter and producer.’

‘Oh,’ Kay said.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Nobody ever knows what a producer does and nobody ever cares what a writer does.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Would you like to come in?’ Kay asked, not quite sure what she was going to do with a screenwriter/producer but feeling it was the polite thing to ask.

‘This place was empty for a while, wasn’t it?’ Adam said, stepping inside and looking around. ‘It’s good to see you’re breathing new life into it,’ he said with a smile.

‘I’ve just had all the bedrooms redecorated, and the dining room. The rest will have to wait, I’m afraid,’ she said, leading him into the living room.

‘Ah, yes. I see what you mean.’

Kay nodded as Adam took in the nicotine-coloured wall-paper and swirly patterned carpet.

‘An acquired taste, perhaps,’ Kay said. ‘And one I have no intention of acquiring. Oh,’ she suddenly added, ‘I’m Kay.’

Adam smiled and stretched out a hand to shake hers and then his eye caught the book she’d left open over the arm of a chair.

‘You’re reading
Persuasion
?’ he said.

‘It’s one of the reasons I’m here in Lyme now. I was reading it when Teresa arrived and told me she was filming it right here in Lyme.’ Then something occurred to Kay. ‘You must be staying somewhere else?’

‘In a way. I’ve got a little place a few miles away.’

‘Oh, you’re local?’

‘Born and bred,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a few acres of land in the Marshwood Vale.’

‘What do you use the land for?’ Kay asked.

‘To walk on, mostly,’ he said with a smile. ‘Although I’ve been thinking of getting a horse. What do you think?’

Kay’s eyebrows rose. She wasn’t used to strange men asking her advice about equestrian matters.

‘I used to ride but I got out of the habit when I had to work for a living.’

‘Well, I’ve got nothing against horses,’ Kay said. ‘All the best heroes have them.’

‘Heroes?’

‘In books.’

‘I see,’ he said with a nod of recognition. ‘I suppose horses were the status symbols of their day.’

‘But where would you park a horse in Lyme?’ Kay asked.

‘That’s a very good question,’ Adam said. ‘Still, imagine the fun of turning up to work on a horse with your briefcase in your hand.’

Kay laughed. She’d only known Adam for about five minutes but she already liked him.

It was then that the front door opened and closed.

‘Kay?’ a voice called. It was Gemma. ‘Oh, Adam!’ she said as she came into the room and Kay couldn’t help noticing how Adam’s face suddenly lit up and – in true Emma Woodhouse style – she had them matched and married off in a blink of an eye. After all, Adam wasn’t bad-looking now that she came to think of it. He had dark brown hair that was a little bit tousled as if he’d been cycling down a windswept hill, and his eyes were an intense grey behind his glasses and his smile was very cute too.

‘Everything all right?’ Kay asked.

‘Teresa wants to know if we can borrow your copy of
Persuasion
. She wants to check something and nobody has a copy. Can you believe it?’

Kay picked up her copy and handed it to her.

‘Thanks,’ Gemma said. ‘We’ll bring it right back.’

‘How’s it going?’

‘Not good. We think we might get a couple of shots in but the wind’s really picked up and it’s going to rain,’ Gemma said.

Adam nodded. ‘It’s meant to be quite heavy.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Gemma said, looking anxious.

‘It’ll be all right,’ Adam said. ‘You worry too much, Gemma.’

Kay observed the look that passed between Adam and Gemma, and smiled. They were so cute together.

What Kay didn’t notice, however, was the fact that Adam’s gaze soon left Gemma’s face and returned to hers.

Chapter Eleven

Of course, it shouldn’t have been Gemma who’d run back to Wentworth House to find a copy of
Persuasion
but she’d taken off before Teresa could stop her. Any excuse to get off the set for a while and postpone the inevitable.

And Adam had been there. He’d even walked back with her, giving her loads of encouragement and being such a sweetheart.

Gemma had then climbed the steps up into one of the vans that was being used as a dressing room and sat down in what she had come to think of as ‘the chair of doom’ whilst a make-up artist turned her into a nineteenth-century heroine. It was the most bizarre of processes, Gemma thought. She didn’t usually bother much with make-up and having somebody else attacking you with sponges, brushes and pencils was somewhat alarming.

Beth, of course, was loving it. She adored any form of attention and would always be sure to complain if she thought she wasn’t getting enough.

‘Shouldn’t I be wearing more mascara than that?’ Beth asked, peering into the mirror with a horrified expression on her face.

‘You’re playing Louisa Musgrove in
Persuasion
,’ Sophie said with a laugh. ‘Not Sally Bowles in
Cabaret
!’

Gemma tried to hide her smile. Beth had already been severely reprimanded by Teresa for wearing scarlet lipstick. They’d been halfway through shooting a scene before Teresa had noticed and then she’d gone completely mad.

Make-up complete, it was time for the costumes which were so beautiful that it was hard not to fall in love with them and try to smuggle them home with you, especially if you were an Austen fan like Gemma and Sophie were. It was such a novelty to be wearing something other than jeans. How many women wore pretty, feminine dresses any more? And the fabrics that had been chosen were exquisite. The only problem was that they did absolutely nothing to keep the cold out and, when shooting on a windblown Cobb, that could result in white limbs covered in goosebumps.

But there was more to a part than make-up and a costume, Gemma thought. You had to
be
the character. When she’d got the call from her agent telling her she’d got the part of Anne Elliot, she’d done a little dance in her living room and had then grabbed a copy of the book and read it right through. And then the panic had set in. Playing Anne Elliot was a huge responsibility. For many readers, she was the perfect Jane Austen heroine: selfless, loyal and compassionate. Some even felt that she was Jane Austen herself and it was made all the more special for being the last novel she wrote. She’d been writing it when she was dying and, to ardent fans, it was felt that it was the closest they would ever get to their beloved author. There was an honesty and a simplicity about
Persuasion
. It might not have the exuberance of
Pride and Prejudice
or the naughtiness of
Emma
but it was all the more dear because of that, Gemma thought.

But the reason Gemma loved the novel so much was because of Anne. Readers couldn’t fail to feel Anne’s pain, for which of us hasn’t experienced the pain of a lost love? We have all had our hearts broken and we have all made mistakes, Gemma thought. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to identify with Anne.

So, what if the fans didn’t like Gemma? What if she let them down? What if they didn’t
believe
that she was Anne? That was one of the major worries about adapting a much-loved novel. People knew them so well and had incredibly strong views as to how a character should be portrayed.

‘I don’t care how handsome he was,’ a fan might say, ‘he was not
my
idea of Mr Darcy.’

‘Her hair! Did you see Fanny Price’s hair? What were they thinking of ?’

Gemma sighed. Adapting a classic novel was a minefield and taking on the role of its heroine was fraught with potential disasters.

As Gemma got up to leave the relative warmth of the van and was rudely accosted by the wind which quickly whipped around her thin muslin dress, she could only hope that her performance wouldn’t disappoint the legion of fans out there.

She was just trying to take shelter in the curve of the Cobb until she was needed when a dark-haired man walked past her. It was the man from the bar at The Three Palms – the one on whom she’d turned her back.

‘Hello,’ he said.

Gemma nodded.

‘You okay?’ he asked. ‘You look cold.’

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Gemma said politely, half-expecting him to move on to wherever he had to move on to. But he didn’t.

‘That dress doesn’t look very substantial,’ he said.

‘It isn’t,’ Gemma said and then blushed as she saw his eyes sweep over her exposed bosom.

‘ROB?’ a voice yelled from the other end of the Cobb. ‘Get over here, will you?’

The man shrugged. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ he said and, as quickly as he’d appeared, he disappeared, leaving Gemma with the impression that he was, indeed, very wicked. But rather cute too.

Adam always felt like a bit of a spare part when he was on set. For a start, he wasn’t really needed. Nobody asked him his opinion about the way a scene should be shot and, if there were any questions about the script, they were always directed to Teresa. But he didn’t mind. He quite liked being in the background. It gave him a chance to observe everything that was going on around him. He loved the bustle of film sets – the excitement had never waned over the years. No matter how many he’d been on one, there was always something different to experience. For the
Persuasion
shoot, it was the transformation of the Cobb. There were canteen trucks, trucks for the actors full of costumes and make-up, vans full of cables, dolly tracks down for the camera, and ropes cordoning off several streets with notices up apologising for any inconvenience. He’d been working on a film up in Scotland when the 2006 production of
Persuasion
had been shooting in Lyme Regis and he’d been gutted to miss it. Now, he took a step back and gloried in the chaos that he’d caused by sitting down to write a script one day.

He’d been told about the burst pipe at The Three Palms and how Teresa had managed to find Wentworth House. Adam smiled as he’d thought about its new owner. It had been her, hadn’t it? The girl with the toffee-coloured hair he’d seen outside the estate agents. She hadn’t recognised him but how could she have? He hadn’t exactly made his presence known that day, had he? But he remembered her. There’d been something about her that had captivated him immediately. She had a sweetness about her the like of which he’d never seen before and it had been so easy to talk to her. He’d been surprised at how at ease he’d felt in her company. Women usually had the effect of tying him up in knots but Kay had loosened him. Gemma was the same. He adored Gemma and cared enormously about her but she didn’t give him that fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach that Kay did.

Adam took a deep breath of salty air. Now was not a good time to fall head over heels. He’d just started a new screenplay and was up to his eyeballs in ideas plus there was still so much to sort out with the film. His phone never stopped ringing. Unless he switched it off, of course, which he often did when he was writing. His imagination was working at full capacity at the moment and there really wasn’t room to start imagining romantic scenarios in his own life. He had to write those of his characters first. But that was easier said than done, wasn’t it?

A sudden gust of wind buffeted Adam and he buttoned up his coat. It was cold for May and the sea was a menacing grey to match the sky. He watched as the actresses left the safety of the make-up vans, the fine fabric of their dresses wrapping around their legs. They were all wearing coats and he could see strands of hair desperately trying to escape from the confines of their bonnets.