The Stolen Weekend. Fern Britton
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Piran looked at her with irritation. ‘Leave the man to do his work and stop wittering, woman.’ And with that, he and Gasping Bob wandered off in a huddle and carried on their private conversation in what sounded to Helen like more ahs and umms.
Helen balled her fists in annoyance. ‘Bloody Cornwall! Bloody Cornish men!’
And with that she headed off across the village green to the vicarage in hope of finding a cup of tea, or something stronger.
‘So, you’re camping out at Piran’s until further notice then?’ Penny poured them each a cup of tea from the shiny brown tea pot and offered her friend a chocolate HobNob.
‘Looks that way, but we’ll drive each other nuts after a few days. He can’t bear to have a woman cluttering up the place and he’s impossible to live with – just so bloody male, and Cornish male to boot.’ Helen sipped her tea. ‘Got anything stronger?’
‘Brandy? Can’t join you – Simon’s car is playing up again and I’ll have to pick him up in Trevay.’
‘No fun tippling on your own,’ Helen responded. ‘What about you – you look exhausted?’
‘I am. It’s been one thing after another. What with the shoot, then Simon’s stress levels, plus the whole village contriving to drive us into an early grave … I spent most of yesterday baking with Queenie for this Pendruggan Bake-Off thingummy and then, to top it all, we only went and won the first heat.’
‘Congratulations!’ Helen registered the thunderous look on Penny’s face. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’
‘Pleased? That’s the last thing I needed! Now I’ll have to go through the whole blooming thing again next week. There’s four heats and then a grand final, with Mary Berry herself coming to judge. Still, it’ll be a lovely feeling if we beat Audrey Tipton. That woman is the bane of my life.’
‘Oh yes, very satisfying.’
‘All I want to do is to crawl into bed and shut the world away. The post-production of Mr Tibbs will be a walk in the park compared to this lot. Living in Pendruggan can sometimes feel like being beaten to death with a tea cosy!’
The two friends nibbled on their HobNobs glumly.
‘Wait a minute! I’ve had an idea.’ There was an excited gleam in Penny’s eye. ‘I got a call from the director of Mr Tibbs today. We’re all supposed to be having a break before post-production starts, but he told me there are a few problems with the sound quality and he’s getting David Cunningham to come to the dubbing studios to re-do a couple of things.’
Helen nodded, wondering where this was leading.
‘David’s only free for a few days before he moves on to a new project, so they’re recording this weekend,’ Penny continued, her voice bubbling with excitement. ‘While they don’t need me, strictly speaking I should be on hand to make sure all goes well. Which gives me the perfect excuse to nip up to London for the weekend. All I’d have to do is literally pop my head in to make sure that everything’s tickety-boo – once I’ve done that, we can have the whole weekend to ourselves. What do you think?’
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