The Leading Lady Page 9

  The next few hours passed by in a blur, Tim had given me so much to think about. I was sad knowing that I’d never get to see my dad again, but content that he’d led a happy life for the last twenty-odd years, and most of all I was heartened to know that he’d kept an eye on me from afar and had been proud of me. That meant more to me than anything. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice when Jude arrived late for our meeting with Maxine and Richard. After a hectic few hours last night, we’d come up with a proposal and had asked them to hear it from us this afternoon. How much more stressful could one day be?

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, jumping out of his van with a sheaf of papers under his arm. ‘Got held up on the phone and then …’ He looked down at his trousers, which were dripping wet from the shin down. ‘I got a bit wet by accident. I won’t make a very good impression with your bosses looking like something the tide has washed up, will I?’

  I laughed; he looked like a naughty boy. ‘How old are you? Follow me; we’ve just about got time to dry your clothes before we’re due to meet them.’

  I led him through to the utility room and he stripped off his jeans and I put them in the tumble dryer. I studied his naked bottom half surreptitiously. His legs were just as nice as I’d imagined. Lean, tanned and muscly, but not too stocky. I wasn’t keen on bodybuilder types, I liked my men more natural and healthy looking, Jude definitely looked that. Very healthy.

  ‘You’re giving me a complex, staring like that.’ He grinned.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said briskly, feigning nonchalance, ‘in my profession I see half-naked men all the time. My eyes don’t even register them.’

  ‘Really?’ he smirked. ‘I think your cheeks have registered me: they’ve gone pink.’

  I cleared my throat and marched out of view.

  ‘Shall we run through what we’re going to say in the living room?’ I called over my shoulder. ‘And you still haven’t explained why you’re wet.’

  As we sat beside each other on the sofa, Jude just in his boxer shorts, it took all my powers of concentration to study the papers he’d spread out on the table.

  ‘I’m wet because,’ he smirked boyishly at me, ‘I may have done something naughty.’

  ‘Come on, spill the beans,’ I laughed, thinking how easily I could be persuaded to do something naughty too.

  ‘I spoke to Katrina at the council to run your idea by her.’

  ‘First-name terms now, is it?’ I said pointedly. ‘Good work.’

  Jude grinned. ‘It turns out she’s secretly in favour of our campaign to keep the boat house. She and her boyfriend are keen surfers and she thinks the beach needs a facility like we’re proposing and that people will be prepared to pay to use it.’

  ‘Brilliant! Did she give you any insider info on other interested parties?’

  ‘She told me that there has been a serious enquiry from a group of old university friends who fancy clubbing together to buy the boat house for get-togethers and big birthdays.’

  I pulled a face. ‘They actually sound like quite a nice bunch.’

  Jude handed me some estate agent’s details from his pile of papers. ‘Katrina has sent them this instead, it’s about ten miles away, on the road to Plymouth. An ex-fishing shed. It’s cheaper and needs less work.’

  I exhaled. ‘Fingers crossed they go for it. So, back to your wet jeans. Have you been for a paddle?’

  ‘Sort of.’ He laughed that gloriously warm laugh that had attracted me to him in the first place. ‘Katrina let slip that Mr Carmichael is sending a surveyor down this afternoon to do a feasibility report on the boathouse. So I …’ He rubbed a hand through the springy waves at the front of his head. ‘I opened up and soaked the internal walls with seawater.’

  I laughed. ‘So that the surveyor would assume that the water level comes up higher than it really does? That is genius!’

  ‘I’m already feeling underhand about it.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I know I said may the best man win, but I’m not sure where cheating fits into that.’

  ‘Well, don’t give it a moment’s thought,’ I reassured him. ‘Mr Carmichael’s the sort of man who’d stop at nothing to get what he wants. I think he may have met his match in you. I’m proud of you.’

  ‘Ditto.’ Jude’s face coloured and we grinned at each other shyly for a moment until the timer went off on the tumble dryer and he put his jeans back on. ‘Now, would you like to see pictures of the barn you asked for?’

  For the next ten minutes we worked out who was going to say what in order to persuade Richard and Maxine that Brightside Cove would be a much better location than Scotland to film The Holy Coast, and I tried not to keep thinking that his legs looked much better without his jeans on. And then we gathered our ammunition and paid them a visit.

  ‘We’ve got the countryside, the coastline, facilities for indoor filming and, most importantly, a coastal building that can easily be mocked-up to look like a church,’ Jude concluded half an hour later. ‘Maxine, you even thought it was a chapel when you first arrived.’

  Maxine inclined her head; she wasn’t giving much away.

  She had her foot propped up and a cushion wedged into the small of her back. I was used to her steely glare but Jude had been a bit daunted by her to begin with and had let me do most of the talking. But eventually his passion for the cause had overtaken his nerves. He’d done really well, raising points that I’d not even known about such as the new mobile phone mast that Mrs Thompson had just had erected on her farm that would be giving Brightside Cove a decent signal by tomorrow and also the drama school in Thymeford, which would be able to provide child actors if required.

  ‘It’s stunning, it’s secluded and it’s self-contained,’ I added. ‘That’s why we think that Brightside Cove offers everything that you’ll need to make award-winning drama.’

  ‘Award-winning?’ Richard sipped his coffee, his eyes smiling at me over his mug. ‘Now that would be good, eh, Maxine?’

  I detected an ally and felt a wave of hope. I did like him; he’d be great to work for.

  ‘So what do you think?’ I wriggled forward on my chair at the kitchen table in Beaver’s Barn, my eyes locked on his.

  Maxine and Richard looked at each other. I watched their shoulders, eyebrows and lips closely trying to interpret their body language. I held my breath, not daring to look at Jude but sensing his tension. Eventually Maxine cleared her throat.

  ‘It is funny that you should suggest a change of location. You must have read our minds; we had another report from the locations manager last night with a couple of new places to consider.’ She gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘But—’ She broke off, looking at Richard.

  ‘The setting is key to this whole show,’ Richard said in his soft Dublin accent. ‘I have to be honest with you, we were thinking about moving further up the coast in Scotland rather than coming south.’

  I gulped. Not further north, please. Five hundred miles away from here was already four hundred and ninety-nine too many.

  ‘But time is not on our side.’ Maxine frowned and flicked through the photographs Jude had printed out of the interior of the boat house. ‘And I’m all for making life simple.’

  ‘I’m with you there.’ Richard gave a half laugh. He pulled the photograph of Mrs Thompson’s barn towards him. ‘And this looks bigger than any we’ve looked at so far. We’d easily get four interiors built into it.’

  ‘The lifeboat house would need some alteration to make it suitable; new windows to replace the louvre slats and doors, of course,’ Jude said, biting his lip.

  ‘We’ve got estimates for the initial work and it can be done in the next few weeks,’ I said. ‘So there’d be no delays to the filming schedule.’

  Maxine had told me that they hoped to shoot series one in the autumn. If they didn’t sort the location out soon, that schedule was looking highly unlikely.

  ‘And don’t forget, Maxine,’ Richard put in, ‘the original novel was set on th
e Norfolk coast. It was our writers who suggested we set it around a remote Scottish community. That would imply that the story is transferable, i.e. not deeply rooted in Scottish culture.’

  Maxine nodded slowly. ‘And you know that was always the aspect of the storyline that I felt was the weakest: the island location. It seems an awful lot of conflict and too many weird characters for one small place.’

  Oh, I don’t know, I thought, this village was tiny and contained all sorts of unusual folk. I suppressed a smile, and when I looked up Jude was doing the same.

  ‘Okay, cards on the table.’ Richard rocked back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘I like the concept. I felt this place was special the moment I got out of the taxi. It’s got a timelessness, an authenticity and a natural beauty that reminds me of some of my favourite places in Southern Ireland. So at first glance, I’d be happy to pursue Brightside Cove as an option. Maxine?’

  I just about resisted punching the air and looked at my boss, mentor and friend expectantly. Her face as usual gave nothing away.

  She pushed her reading glasses up into her frizz of charcoal hair and fixed her eyes on me.

  ‘What about the not insignificant fact that Campion is planning on buying the boathouse? If that happens, what then?’

  Jude and I exchanged uncomfortable looks. There was no denying that that was a possibility.

  He spread his hands out on the table. ‘Nina and I are meeting the council tomorrow. We’ll know the outcome of that pretty quickly. However, I have it on good authority from the council that they would look favourably on our proposal if we could guarantee a regular income from lettings for the first two years. The Holy Coast would more than do that for us.’

  Maxine hobbled to her feet, grabbing the table for support and my heart sank: our time was up. Had we done enough to convince her?

  ‘Nina, dear heart, email me all these pictures.’ She waved her hand over the printed photographs on the table. ‘Richard and I will have another talk and send them up to our locations manager straight away.’

  ‘So you’ll seriously think about it?’ I said, hardly daring to breathe.

  She and Richard exchanged looks and a tiny nod passed between them. ‘You’ve done your homework, both of you,’ she said, her face softening. ‘You’ve thought of everything, from accommodation to catering, transport to extra cast members.’

  ‘You’ll have my wife’s vote,’ said Richard with a grin. ‘She’s already been on the website this morning to book a cottage for the summer. Jude, did you say there’s a field at the back that’s going to have caravans?’

  The two men went outside to examine the caravan site we’d proposed would be suitable for accommodation for the crew, leaving me with Maxine.

  ‘Thanks for listening,’ I said, giving her a quick hug. ‘This means the world to me. I feel like all my life I’ve been searching for a place where I fitted in. Nowhere has ever felt so important to me.’

  ‘Nowhere or no one?’ she said, cocking an eyebrow.

  I smiled. ‘He is cute, isn’t he?’

  ‘Not my type, but I can see he’s good for you.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ I corrected her. ‘Don’t worry, my mind is on the job. My career still comes first.’

  She frowned. ‘Always make room for love, dear heart.’

  ‘Plenty of time for that when I’m famous,’ I replied flippantly. ‘When I’m the star of a successful show set in Devon.’

  ‘If – if – we set The Holy Coast here, the decision will be based on what’s right for all concerned.’

  ‘Absolutely. But you won’t find a better location.’

  Maxine shook her head, amused. ‘You’re like a different girl, Nina. You seem so much more confident in your own skin.’

  I felt a glow of pride: a compliment from Maxine was like a double-yolked egg from one of the Driftwood Lodge hens – a rare and precious thing.

  ‘I used to doubt my own judgement; I didn’t believe in myself enough to go with my gut instinct. I never felt good enough. When my dad left home, I thought it must be because I wasn’t special enough for him to love me. And I think that feeling has followed me all through my life.’

  The words came from nowhere and with them the prick of tears.

  ‘Oh, dear heart.’ Maxine rubbed away a stray teardrop with her thumb. ‘I’m sure that wasn’t true.’

  I gave her a watery smile. ‘It wasn’t. We spoke to Dad’s partner Tim this morning.’

  Her eyes lit up with a mixture of curiosity and kindness.

  ‘I’ll tell you the full story sometime but I think you’d have liked my dad. And it turns out he followed my career from a distance and was proud of me, he even watched Victory Road! I’ve learned from him how important it is to be brave and bold. It’s time for me to start standing up for what I believe in and what I want for my own life.’

  I held her gaze.

  ‘And that’s why I’d really like you to choose Brightside Cove for our location.’

  She quirked an eyebrow. ‘You might have mentioned that. Anything else on your wish list?’

  I opened my mouth and then hesitated, wondering if I was asking too much. Oh what the hell: be more Meryl …

  ‘Actually, there is one other thing …’

  Chapter 39

  It was Friday lunchtime and Jude and I were on the outside terrace at The Sea Urchin.

  ‘Cheers.’ He tapped his glass against mine. ‘We did it. Whatever happens now at least we know we’ve done our best.’

  ‘Yes, cheers,’ I said with a nervous smile. ‘And congratulations.’

  The last twenty-four hours, ever since mine and Archie’s call to Tim, had been exhilarating and exciting and filled with last-minute adrenalin. Yesterday evening, Richard had called into Driftwood Lodge to tell us that Brightside Cove was now definitely in the running and the locations manager, Phil Turner, was very keen. He had driven down at the crack of dawn this morning to check out the place for himself, and Jude had given him a whistle-stop tour of all our facilities before Phil had given us the seal of approval, jumped back in the car and headed off to London, taking Maxine and Richard with him. My final cheeky request to Maxine had been to reschedule the press briefing meeting so that I could be here for the council meeting and due to the fact that the location of her new show was depending on it, she’d agreed.

  I’d waved them off – quite tearfully, actually, I was going to really miss Maxine. She’d rolled her eyes when she’d noticed my wobbly bottom lip, and reminded me briskly that I’d be seeing her again next week to film my final scene for Victory Road. And she’d made me promise to tell her any news as soon as we got it from the council.

  So at eleven, Jude and I had made our pitch to Katrina Berry at South Devon Council. At the crux of our plan to revitalize the lifeboat house for the community of Brightside Cove and its future generations was our formal request from SparkTV to convert it from dilapidated shed to nineteenth-century chapel to appear in the new TV drama, The Holy Coast. Katrina had been as enthusiastic and receptive as we could have hoped for, asking all sorts of questions about the TV show and even suggesting a couple of deserted beauty spots that would be perfect for some of the outdoor scenes.

  Afterwards, Jude had driven me back towards Driftwood Lodge but just before the turning to the drive had asked whether I’d join him for a drink and a debrief instead. So here we were.

  I took a sip and let the Prosecco bubbles burst on my tongue before setting my glass down on the table.

  ‘Councils are notoriously slow-moving with decisions, but I hope Katrina keeps her promise and comes back to us by the end of the day,’ I said, holding up my crossed fingers. ‘Phil’s paying a flying visit to somewhere near Inverness tomorrow; we don’t want him to like it more than here.’

  ‘And the waiting is the worst part,’ Jude agreed. ‘My stomach’s in knots.’

  I felt a tremor of nerves. I hoped he was right. But a part of me couldn’t help thinking that if the decision d
idn’t go in our favour then the anxiety of waiting would pale into insignificance. Because not only would Jude have lost something he felt so strongly about, but my time in Brightside Cove would be finite. And suddenly I couldn’t bear it. I lifted my glass again for something to do, but I couldn’t drink: the lump in my throat was too large.

  ‘Angie is coming back,’ said Jude. ‘She’ll be over the moon if Deliciously Devon gets the contract to supply catering to the cast and crew.’

  ‘Does that mean her daughter is coping a little better with her babies?’ I said, relieved that we’d changed the subject.

  Jude nodded. ‘Correct. But also she has some big bookings coming up that she didn’t want to turn down. Summer is always a busier time for outside catering.’

  ‘And she didn’t trust you to do the cooking?’ I said with mock affront. ‘How rude.’

  He grinned. ‘She has never trusted me to do the cooking, as you know. But I’m exceptionally good at taking the lids off takeaway dishes. Anyway, I’ve got a big workload next week, so even if I was a talented chef, I wouldn’t be able to help out.’

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work today?’ Come to think of it, he seemed to have been around an awful lot this week.

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve got lots of annual leave owing to me; I thought I’d take as much time off as I could at the moment. Make the most of …’ He paused and gulped his beer.

  ‘Because of the boat house campaign?’ I nudged.

  ‘Partly.’

  I waited, expecting more, but he set his glass down and started jiggling his legs, his heels bouncing up and down. I watched him, recognizing the gesture as his body’s response to nervous situations. He’d done it at dinner the other night at Theo and Kate’s when Archie had asked him about his family and he’d been jiggling away today in Katrina Berry’s office as he’d gone over the financial aspects of our rescue plan. Clearly he was working up to telling me something but I wasn’t in a rush, I would wait for him to find the words.