The Perfect Hero: The perfect summer read for Austen addicts!. Victoria Connelly
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and breakfast and Oli Wade Owen was never going to pay her the slightest bit of attention, was he?
Chapter Nine
As predicted, the cast and crew came home only once they’d been chucked out of the pub. Kay heard them halfway down Marine Parade from her bedroom and was sure she could hear Beth Jenkins singing. Well, screeching really. It wasn’t melodious enough to be called singing.
There was a banging and a scratching at the front door as somebody tried to get it open and then it sounded as if everybody was trying to get in all at once. Kay giggled as she opened her bedroom door and dared to peep over the stairs.
‘Shusssssshhhh!’ Sophie was whispering. ‘You shusssshhhhh!’ Beth retorted, stumbling up the first stair.
‘You always have to overdo things, Beth. That’s your problem.’
‘Don’t you tell me what my problem is!’ Beth said. ‘My problem is you!’ she said, poking a finger into Sophie’s chest.
‘Yeah? Well my problem is you!’ Sophie said in response.
‘Ladies, ladies!’ Oli cut in. ‘We can’t have the Musgrove sisters at war with each other now, can we?’
Kay watched as they all came tripping up the stairs. Beth’s face was bright red and she had a naughty gleam in her eye. Oli’s blond hair was tousled as if somebody had been ruffling it – Beth, probably, Kay thought. Teresa’s eyes were almost completely shut as if her mind was already in bed and only her body had to catch up. Then Les brought up the rear with Sophie. He looked as morose as ever, his face sullen and sunken as if it had been sat on. Sophie was the only one who looked relatively normal. Her face looked a little flushed but she was smiling and managing the stairs better than any of the others.
‘Night!’ she said when she reached the top.
Beth shoved a hand in the air by way of response and fell into her bedroom.
‘Goodnight, my sweet princesses,’ Oli said before disappearing into his own room. The others did likewise and Kay quietly closed her own door.
For a moment, she stood perfectly still wondering, once again, if she’d imagined the whole thing.
‘Where’s my hairdryer?’ a voice suddenly bellowed into the corridor. It was Beth Jenkins’s voice.
No, Kay thought, she hadn’t imagined it. There really were several film stars staying in her home.
‘Sophie? Have you got my hairdryer?’
‘No, I haven’t got your poxy hairdryer. Keep your voice down. Gemma’s trying to sleep in here.’
Beth slammed her bedroom door and all was quiet again. Kay giggled. This was just too strange. Just a couple of doors away, Oli Wade Owen would be getting ready for bed. Kay got into her own bed. She must stop thinking about him but it was so hard to ignore somebody who had crossed her threshold with the true panache of a Jane Austen hero and, as she closed her eyes that night, Kay didn’t dream about Mr Darcy but Oli Wade Owen.
* * *
Making breakfast for six people was a novelty for Kay but not one that she wasn’t enjoying. Sophie had been the first one up, looking bright-eyed and eager to throw herself into the day ahead even though it was only six in the morning. Which was more than could be said for Beth who entered the dining room with her eyes half-closed.
‘Good morning, bright eyes!’ Sophie chirped. ‘And how are you this morning?’
‘Shut up, Soph!’ Beth groaned as she pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down. ‘Oh, my head. Who bought me all those drinks?’
‘You did!’ Sophie told her with a bright laugh.
‘Don’t laugh. Don’t say anything. It’s too painful.’
‘You’d better smarten yourself up before Teresa makes an appearance,’ Sophie warned her. ‘You know what she’s like.’
‘Oh, God! If she tells me to wake up and shake up, I’ll scream,’ Beth said.
As Kay placed two pots of coffee on the table she watched as Teresa and Les walked in together.
‘Good morning,’ Teresa said. ‘Good God, Beth! What happened to you?’
‘Nothing. I’m fine,’ Beth lied, wincing at the sound of her own voice.
‘You look appalling. You’d better wake up and shake up before we start filming. The make-up artists can’t perform miracles, you know.’
Beth glared at her tormentor and Sophie did her best to stifle a giggle.
Les grabbed the coffee pot and started pouring. ‘Looks like it might rain,’ he said in a voice that reminded Kay of a rainy grey morning.
‘Forecast isn’t good,’ Teresa agreed. ‘We might have to do the Uppercross scenes instead.’
Gemma, who was just walking into the room, suddenly looked startled. ‘The Uppercross scenes?’
‘Unless the rain holds off and we can shoot some of the Cobb stuff,’ Teresa said.
Kay watched as Gemma pulled out a chair and sat down. She didn’t look happy.
‘Good morning!’ A bright voice filled the room and Kay looked up to see Oli striding into the dining room, his smile filling his face. It was all Kay could do not to tip Sophie’s juice into her lap. ‘How are we all this morning?’
‘God, Oli!’ Beth said. ‘How can you be so unrelentingly joyous? And how did you escape without a hangover? I saw the amount you put away last night.’
Oli grabbed a piece of toast from the centre of the table and started spreading it thickly with yellow butter. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, my poppet,’ he said, taking a big mouthful and munching happily. ‘I hardly touched a drop.’
Beth shook her head and returned to her cereal in disgust.
‘I did warn you all,’ Teresa said. ‘I said one drink, didn’t I?’
Kay grinned at the conversation but her eyes hadn’t left Oli’s face. As she fussed around making sure everyone had what they needed, her eyes kept flicking back to him and she recalled the films that she’d swooned over in the past. It had been the adaptation of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities when he’d first caught her eye. He’d played Sydney Carton and Kay had cried her eyes out when he’d sacrificed his life for the woman he loved.
There’d followed some rather awful romantic comedies where he’d played vacuous heroes who always got the girl. Still, he’d been very cute and his audience had swelled. Then the temptation of Hollywood had beckoned and he’d been cast as the wife stealer in a film called – unsurprisingly – The Wife Stealer. It had been dreadful. The only redeeming thing about it had been the near-nude scene and the press that had followed. Many a still from the film had been published in the tabloids and Kay had to admit that it had brightened up a few dreary lunch hours.
Looking at him now, she tried not to think about the near-nude scene and the length of his bronzed back and his tight firm . . .
‘I’ll get some more toast,’ she blurted, causing everyone to turn and look at her.
‘You all right, Kay?’ Sophie asked. ‘You look all flushed.’
‘I’m fine,’ Kay said, hurrying from the room as quickly as she could.
She must not fall in love with him. She must not fall in love with him. Handsome men were bad news. How many times had she had her heart broken? She didn’t like to think about the number of handsome men who’d won her heart and then stepped all over it. She hadn’t come to Lyme Regis just to repeat her past. She was going to throw herself into her work and make a go of her new business, and focus on her illustrations too. She did not need a man in her life.
But,