‘I’m welcome to stay?’ Ella jumped up in protest. ‘What makes you so sure it’s my reservation they got wrong? I think we should both leave until the hotel gets to the bottom of things.’
‘Not happening. I’m not going anywhere. I was here first.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Gary’s other half checked me in before you got here.’ He lifted the phone. After a long wait for a reply that didn’t come, he hung up.
Unfazed, Ella wandered across to an antique table which held an assortment of complimentary snacks. She picked up a bottle of mineral water, unscrewed the cap and poured it into the kettle. ‘I’m making a cup of tea, if you’d like one.’
‘Be my guest.’
Pulling a face, she plugged in the kettle and switched it on. ‘I can’t believe this place. It’s so disorganised.’
He walked over to the mullioned window and peered out at the blues and greys and whites of the sea blending with the sky. The view of the coast grounded him.
‘Probably just an unfortunate by-product of the handover.’
‘Really? Because the way I see it, it’s totally shambolic.’
Callum took a pound out of his pocket. It sat in his palm next to an old scar. ‘Toss a coin for the room?’ He threw it spinning into the air and caught it again. ‘Heads or tails?’
Fury burned in her eyes.
‘Relax. I’m kidding.’ He picked up the receiver. ‘I’ll try again.’
Unsurprisingly no one answered the phone, so while they waited for the kettle to boil, he turned back to the window, enthralled by the landscape he’d always felt at home in, the expanse of sea and the distant cliffs on the far side of the wide, horseshoe bay.
‘Isn’t it fabulous?’ She stood beside him at the window.
‘We can agree on that.’
She was unlike anyone he’d ever met. She was beautiful, unusual, captivating, with a style all her own and a grace that was nearly fairy-like – which was ridiculous because it wasn’t as if she was like her supernatural character on the TV show.
She turned her attention back to the tea-making. ‘What’s wrong with the kettle? The water’s stone cold.’
He joined her and switched it off and on. ‘The fuse has gone.’
‘Of course it has.’
He unplugged it. ‘Listen. You keep the suite. I don’t need it.’ The room with the view had been Roxanne’s choice. Without her, it didn’t matter where he slept. He unhooked his suit-carrier from the wardrobe door. ‘I’ll go downstairs, and speak to Gary. See what he can sort out.’ He’d settle for a shoebox over the kitchen smelling of bacon and mushrooms.
Ella
As Callum went to pick up his khaki canvas holdall there was a thin voice at the open door. ‘Knock, knock. It’s only me. Mind if I come in?’
‘Speak of the devil.’ Ella beamed as Gary crossed the threshold, apology written all over his face.
‘Ella and I have agreed that she gets the Ocean Vibes Suite,’ said Callum. ‘Which room am I moving to?’
Ella was about to point out that the kettle was broken when she caught sight of a couple trundling their cases into view behind Gary, and she wheeled round to see Callum’s jaw drop.
‘It’s the funniest thing. I can’t think how it happened.’ Gary wrung his hands. ‘I have one Smith, a Swift, and two Smyths with a ‘y’.’
‘And only one Ocean Vibes Suite?’ Callum jibed.
‘Three Smyths with a ‘y’.’ The woman corrected Gary over his shoulder. She looked exactly like Ella had been feeling earlier – seconds away from meltdown. ‘Josh is spending tonight with us and moving across the hall to join Saffie tomorrow. That’s non-negotiable. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride on the morning of the wedding – never mind waking up in the Bridal Suite next to her before they’ve said the “I dos”.’ She drew in a steadying breath. ‘Before anyone says anything, I agree. It’s rather old-fashioned but Saffie’s grandparents insisted.’
Mr Smyth, who had barged into the room like a charging bull, fumed. ‘This isn’t funny. Not funny at all.’ If his eyes had been lethal weapons Gary would have been toast. ‘This isn’t good enough. There better not be any more cock-ups with our son’s wedding…’
‘Language, Rupert!’ said Tess, although clearly, she was as outraged as her husband.
‘Or there’ll be hell to pay!’ Rupert snorted with indignation.
‘Somehow or other,’ said Gary, ‘what with one thing and another, it seems there’s been a bit of a…’
‘Cluster-fuck!’ The man did not mince words.
‘I don’t suppose?’ Mortified, Gary looked from Ella to Callum and back imploringly, as if wishing for a trap door in the floor to vanish through. ‘You’d accept a refund?’
‘A refund?’ Callum and Ella exclaimed in unison.
They could have cut the tension in the room with a knife and Tess chose this moment to hold out her hand to Ella. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Tess, the mother of the – other – groom. It’s splendid that you’re here for Nick Wells’ wedding.’ She tut-tutted. ‘After the way he treated you.’
Callum pressed his palm to his forehead.
‘We’re friends.’ Ella felt as if she was shrinking.
‘Still friends? No hard feelings? Is that a millennial thing? Good for you.’
If Tess had a filter, she must have left it at home. She smiled dolefully at Ella as if offering her condolences. ‘I haven’t seen you in anything on television for ages.’
‘I’m not really an actor. Not anymore,’ she said clumsily. ‘I mean, I wasn’t a proper one. I didn’t train.’
‘You don’t model now either?’
Ella detested having to explain herself. Justify her life choices. It was the unwanted consequence of fame.
At age fifteen she had chosen to live with the rock star dad she had only just met. Her mum, newly married and about to emigrate to New Zealand, had pointed out that if she stepped through the door into his world, there’d be no going back. She’d obstinately done it anyway, and, despite the warnings, she’d been left behind to wing it in Wesley Harlow’s circle of hangers-on, without back up.
Overlooked, left out, the forgotten daughter, she didn’t feel like she mattered at her dad’s. His house in Notting Hill was stunning, and nothing like the small terraced house in North London where she had grown up. It was more like a hotel than a home, with a secluded garden, a gym, an indoor pool and a music studio. She had drifted around with an aura of being on the edge of a photograph, not quite in the frame, looked down upon by the people around her dad, a nuisance. She had been in tune with her father’s indifference. She didn’t belong in his life.
Parents like the Smyths, so invested and involved in their son’s wedding, were impossible to imagine. Based on that she concluded they ought to have the suite.
‘No,’ she said softly in answer to Tess. She looked up into Callum’s face. ‘It seems obvious to me that Tess and Rupert’s claim to the room is strongest.’
‘The thing is… we’re full,’ said Gary. ‘There are no other rooms I can offer you.’
Rupert scratched his head and muttered something inaudible.
‘There must be something you can do.’ Tess glanced around the room. ‘This is a big suite. Perhaps we could share. Are there any extra beds you could bring in?’
‘As a last resort, I suppose…’ Gary nervously kneaded his chin.
‘No-oh!’ Callum made a sound as if he was about to choke. Ella felt the same. It was a generous suggestion, but she’d rather sleep on the beach under the stars than spend the night in some kind of pre-nuptial dormitory.
‘On second thoughts, I’ll make enquiries; see if we can find you somewhere else that’s still local. In the meantime, if you’d care to wait in the bar, I’ll bring you a champagne tea – on the house, of course,’ Gary said apologetically.
* * *
‘So how do you know the bride and groom?’ Ella set down her teacup and it rattled on the saucer. Thankfully the bar area was quiet, the Neanderthals gone. She admired the décor, not actually caring all that much about Callum’s reply. She just couldn’t stand to sit there in silence.
She felt so much better thanks to the soothing Earl Grey tea and the revitalising array of dinky sandwiches, freshly baked scones and teeny cakes with pastel-coloured icing, almost too pretty to eat. The chilled champagne lay at a tilt in a bucket of ice, the gold foil intact and the dark green glass covered in condensation.
‘Saffie and Josh? So, I… Rox…’ Callum hesitated. ‘I’m on the bride’s side. I’ve known Saffie since we were kids. She grew up here. With her grandparents. I got to know the family when I came to the caravan park on holiday.’ His expression was troubled. Having loaded half a scone with jam then cream in true Cornish fashion, he set it on his plate and scowled at it as if it was at least a week old. ‘You?’
Tess’s comments had stayed in her head like an old, stuck vinyl record. ‘Nick and I have been friends for a long time. We were in a TV show together.’
‘I know.’
She hadn’t liked to assume that he knew about Mercy of the Vampires. ‘Well, back then, according to the magazines we were nothing short of the most on-again-off-again couple on the planet. None of it was true, of course.’
The stories had been a mix of fabrication, fun and photos. For the most part nonsense, silly reports kept their names in the headlines, which was what she and Nick, and the show’s press office, had wanted at the time.
‘I didn’t deny or confirm anything because in showbiz there is no such thing as bad publicity.’ Her tone was touchy. ‘In reality? Nick was my default plus-one. Convenient for red carpet occasions.’
Callum met her gaze for a long moment, his grey eyes cool. ‘You don’t have to explain.’
Her heart lurched. There had been a point in her life when she’d leaned on Nick. He’d been there for her when her family wasn’t. She’d been betrayed, hurt and messed about by an ex. At the time it had felt like the ground beneath her feet was crumbling. Nick had picked up the pieces, and helped her keep going. And that’s why she was in Porthkara now, to be at his wedding, for him – a way of returning the favour.
‘Good. Because I don’t like having to. It’s old news.’ She lifted her cup and drank a sip of tea. Weirdly, now that Nick was about to get married, she felt left behind.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I was making small talk. Badly.’
He hadn’t pried. She had been on the defensive. ‘It’s me. Not you. I hate small talk. I’m no good at it.’ It usually led to questions she couldn’t answer. About her father.
Belittled by loaded comments about only getting breaks thanks to his fame, after Vampires she’d done a couple of roles in films, one a dream cameo alongside Nick in the blockbusting, award-winning Magician of Arden. She had fulfilled a lucrative contract she’d landed with a cosmetics brand. Then she’d taken time out. Largely because she’d wanted a break from the pressure Wesley put on her to be photographed, and big up his music, and keep both of their names “out there”.
She hadn’t intended to walk away from the work entirely. But she’d lost her confidence and failed to turn up for a handful of auditions. Then she’d stopped taking her agent’s calls. After a couple of years of drifting it felt like there would be no way back. She was well and truly off the casting directors’ radars by now.
‘I didn’t recognise you at first. I took you to be a friend of Saffie’s. Sorry, is that rude?’
‘No.’ She thought about it. ‘Is that why you helped me?’
The whisper of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. ‘Yes.’
Silence hung between them. Callum checked the time on his watch against the time on his phone as if one might say something different to the other. She selected a teeny chocolate éclair from the silver cake stand and ate it in two bites.
Suddenly she felt like explaining, or at least attempting to. She left out the part about the married man who had broken her heart. ‘I had a whirlwind few years. I was overwhelmed, emotionally drained. I guess I burned out. When I quit acting, I’d been tabloid fodder since I was a teenager. What was I wearing? Who was I hanging out with? Dating? At a certain point, I’d had enough.’
‘The public eye took its toll. So – it’s true that Wesley Harlow is your father?’
She let out a huff of breath. ‘Yes.’ It was always this way. People were only interested in her dad and his band, Reckless Underground. Everything closed in around her. This was exactly the feeling she’d been avoiding.
He set his phone on the table. ‘You looking forward to the wedding?’
‘More small talk?’
‘Uh-huh. It seems we both need the practice. For tomorrow.’
She looked away, relieved that he’d steered her back onto a safe topic. ‘Okay. Let’s see. Yes, I am looking forward to it.’ She meant her words, but they still came out stilted. ‘Nick’s found the one person he wants to be with forever. I’m thrilled for him. He’s so happy with Layla. Their baby, Evie, is the cutest. Tomorrow is going to be very special.’
‘Let’s hope the weather stays fine. I’m not sure what the forecast is.’
‘Gary said something. He used the word “iffy”.’
‘A well-known meteorological term.’ He leaned back in his chair, his large hands resting on the table, a sparkle in his eyes, annoyingly.
‘Credit where credit’s due. These cakes are so good.’ She gestured the spread in front of them. ‘There’s enough to feed a small army.’ Still ravenous, she honed in on a mini mille-feuille and speedily polished it off.
Interrupting their efforts at making conversation, Gary bounded up to their table like a bouncy spaniel. ‘Afternoon tea to your liking, chaps?’ His face dropped. ‘You haven’t touched the champagne.’
‘It’s all scrumptious.’ Ella chose a third cake.
Callum rapped his knuckles impatiently on the table. ‘Any news on the room situation?’
‘Yes and no,’ said Gary. ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’
Callum frowned. ‘Just give us the news.’
‘I’ve tried to rejig things, but there’s nothing. I’ll refund the full cost of your stay.’
‘I’m confused,’ said Ella. ‘Which news is that?’
Gary winced. ‘The good news is I’ve found you somewhere else to stay.’
‘Where?’ Callum’s frown lines deepened.
‘The hotel will cover the cost,’ said Gary, somewhat evasively. ‘We messed up and I can’t apologise enough for the inconvenience.’
‘Is this place you’re talking about for both of us?’
‘Together?’ Ella bit into the tiny cake and swallowed a mouthful of soft, buttery sponge. The pale pink icing contained a touch of rose essence. It was delicious. She gave a hedonistic sigh. ‘Mmm. This is divine.’
Gary took a deep breath. ‘Yes. Together. That won’t be a problem, will it?’
She raised her eyebrows at Gary. ‘It’s not ideal.’
Callum harrumphed. He held up the palms of his hands as if trying to halt traffic. ‘We’ve only just met.’
Gary looked stricken. ‘It’s the only solution. You’ll have to bear with me. There are separate bedrooms. You don’t have to worry about that.’
‘Wait a second,’ said Callum. ‘Let’s back up. Where exactly are these rooms?’
‘It’s a self-catering cottage at Karadow Cove. The owner is reliable. Believe me, you’ll be in safe hands with Jessie Greenway. She lives on the other side of the bay, out on the headland.’
‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’ Ella tried to catch Callum’s eye. ‘I thought you were going to offer us a yurt, or a tepee, or one of those glamping pods.’
‘It’s the first holiday weekend in May, guys. Forget glamping. There’s nothing, not even a space at the campsite – believe me, I asked. I paid upfront for the cottage, to make sure you got it before any last-minute booker does. So, like I say, you’ve nothing to worry about there.’ He rubbed his hands together, half-enthusiastic at off-loading them, half-worried that they’d refuse to go. ‘It’s all taken care of.’
Callum wasn’t having any of it. ‘How far’s Karadow Cove? Seven or eight miles?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it’s quite a way by road. The location is superb though, very picturesque.’
Callum slid a derisory glance in Gary’s direction. ‘Let me guess,’ he said, ‘lots of ocean vibes?’
‘You’re lucky Jessie’s had a cancellation. The beds are made up, there’s wood for the log burner, milk in the fridge and a welcome pack of locally sourced groceries. What more could you ask for?’
Ella smiled at Gary. ‘Well, I for one am very grateful.’ She wasn’t overjoyed at missing out on her hotel stay, but since her brief and to-the-point interview with Tess, the idea of a hideaway was growing on her.
Callum said nothing.
‘That’s settled then.’ Gary set a piece of paper with the address scrawled on it next to Callum’s tea plate and hastily backed away from his steel-cold glower. ‘Old Rose Cottage. That’s the postcode for your satnav. Follow the signs marked “scenic route”.’
Callum prodded his phone screen. ‘I’ll make my own plans. That way, since you like the sound of the cottage so much, you can have it to yourself,’ he said to Ella once Gary had fled.
‘It’s a last resort for us both. You heard Gary. There is no alternative.’
‘It won’t work. We don’t know each other.’
‘We do now. A bit. Kind of. Anyway, what does it matter? You’re obviously not an axe murderer. And nor am I.’ She studied Jessie’s address. ‘And another thing. I’m counting on you to be my taxi. I had to wait ages for one at the station.’
‘Well, that changes everything,’ he groaned sarcastically.
‘Couldn’t you at least drive me out there? Take a look? If you hate it, you can come straight back.’
‘And do what? Spend the night in the carpark?’ He stared furiously at his phone screen. ‘Damn it. Nothing. I can’t log into the wifi and I’m not getting a signal.’ He dropped his phone on the table and scanned the bar, presumably for someone to rescue him from the appalling fate of sharing a cottage with her.
‘Haven’t you got any friends you can stay with? Since it’s an emergency?’
Ella sighed. ‘No, I haven’t, and Old Rose Cottage sounds quite nice. Face it. It isn’t just our best option, it’s the only option.’
His eyes moody and grey as a stormy sky, he sat in silence with his arms immovably crossed. He’d transformed from the charming man who’d practically given her vertigo merely looking up at him from the foot of the stairs faster than a Formula One driver could accelerate from nought to a hundred.
‘I don’t know why you’re being so unreasonable,’ she said.
‘Perhaps I’m like you. I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Here.’ He pushed his car keys towards her. ‘You can borrow my car.’
She pushed the keys back across the space between them. She couldn’t believe he’d trust a stranger with his car. She glared at the car keys. ‘I can’t drive. I don’t know how.’
Giving up on Callum, she pushed back her chair, and got up from the table.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m done here. If you won’t take me to Karadow Cove, then I’ll have to find someone who will.’