Chapter 6
Nothing made Lizzie Rafferty feel even more unhappy than her mother telling her she had no reason not to be happy.
‘But how can you feel miserable when your life is perfect? You’re living the dream! You have everything anyone could possibly want,’ Vivienne had exclaimed, entirely unable to understand.
It was impossible trying to explain to her mother that she only had what everyone thought they wanted. Once you were given it – it being success, fame and fortune – you discovered it was far less of a gift and a joy than the rest of the world blithely imagined.
Lizzie had been walking along Laguna Beach for the last twenty minutes, having an imaginary tiff with Vivienne. Now she stopped and turned to watch the waves rolling onto the shoreline as remorselessly as her agent sending her each day’s upcoming itinerary at six a.m. on the dot. The Californian sky overhead was ridiculously blue, the sea foam as dazzlingly white as veneers and the golden sand untouched apart from three trails of footprints where early-morning joggers, doubtless with perfectly tanned and sculpted bodies, had come down here at the crack of dawn to complete their eight-mile runs before showering and heading off to work.
The last time she’d attempted to explain to her mother how she felt, Vivienne had responded, ‘Maybe if you put more effort into it, that might help. It’s not as if you can just give up, is it? You haven’t even won an Oscar yet.’
It had been one of those semi-jokey remarks that wasn’t quite a joke. Her mother had then gone on to remind her of all the other actresses in their forties who took their work seriously, who didn’t complain and would one day be awarded statuettes by the armful to prove to the world how terrifically talented they were.
Lizzie kept her head down as another male runner jogged past. The next moment he did a double-take and went into reverse, pulling up a couple of yards away. He was tanned, bulging with muscles and already holding up his phone.
‘Hey, Lizzie? You’re like totally awesome, man! Can I have a selfie?’
Even out here on the beach his aftershave was overpowering. Plus, he was unashamedly staring at the outline of her boobs beneath her white cotton dress. She said, ‘Sorry, it’s not a great time . . .’ and turned away.
‘Yeah,’ he shouted after her, ‘I heard you were a bitch.’
Fourteen hours later, home at last from a long and tedious day on set at the studios, Lizzie allowed herself a small, illicit bowl of ice cream followed by the luxury of a cathartic weep in the shower.
What a rebel .
Except it turned out not to be that cathartic after all, because thirty minutes later she was back to being as tightly wound as a ball of elastic bands and the urge to explode was becoming ever more inviting. Was this how it felt to be on the brink of burnout? Carrying her laptop out onto the terrace, she sat on her favourite lounger and began scrolling through various random websites in search of help, any kind of help.
Here was her daily horoscope, telling her she felt as if the world was closing in on her.
Lizzie looked up and took in the view over Los Angeles from up here in the Hollywood Hills, mile upon mile of buildings lit up now that the sun had set. Wrong , Mr Horoscope-writer.
You’re experiencing the urge to do something to change your life for the better , Horoscope Man continued chattily, but today isn’t the day to do it. Wait. Be patient. Count your blessings.
No. She shook her head. No, no and no again. You don’t understand me at all .
Stay still. Do nothing , Horoscope Man went on. Choosing not to act can be powerful and so much more effective than leaping into the fray and making a terrible mistake.
For crying out loud, but what if I want to leap? What if the urge to leap is buzzing in my veins, hmm? What then?
If you fill in the form below and complete the payment details, for just $499.99 I can send you far more detailed information as well as extremely valuable personal advice.
Oh please, are you serious?
Luckily, she never had believed in horoscopes.
Instead, she went to her comfort search, the one she loved to spend time scrolling through whenever her brain was frazzled and in need of soothing. Which was pretty much twenty-four-seven nowadays.
Luxury rental property UK . These were the words she loved to type into the search engine, before adding a particular region for variety. The Lake District was a favourite. So was the Gower coast in Wales. Cornwall always had plenty to choose from, as did Devon, Sussex and Suffolk. Or Scotland or Ireland. The choices were endless.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Tonight it was a three-way toss-up between County Dublin, the Cotswolds and the Yorkshire Dales. Even anticipating the joys of exploring what was available caused the tension in her shoulders to relax.
Yorkshire Dales , Lizzie typed. And twenty minutes later she’d found her dream home, somewhere to escape to in her mind.
Except . . . why only in her mind? Maybe this time she could escape to it with her actual body. She was exhausted, after all. Rest, relax and regroup, that was what she longed for, what she needed; to get away from here and enjoy a complete change of scenery. She felt her breathing quicken as she contemplated trading fantasy for reality. Why not? Why not do the absolute opposite of what Mr Horoscope Expert said and make a real change to her life?
Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum went her heart as she surveyed the property she’d chosen. It was a characterful six-bedroom holiday home three miles from the market town of Skipton, with stunning views of hills and woodland from every window. There was a bright orange Aga in the kitchen – God knows how those things worked, but never mind – and the stunning Forest of Bowland was a short drive away. And Yorkshire people were friendly, right? She’d definitely heard that. She’d seen those ads online for Yorkshire Tea.
Do it , urged the voice in her head. Go for it . Lizzie gazed entranced at the online photos of the various rooms, picturing herself in each one in turn.
She picked up the phone and dialled the number. It was midnight here in LA, which meant it was seven in the morning in the UK. People in Yorkshire liked to get up early, right?
The phone was picked up on the third ring.
‘Hi, I’m calling to book a—’
‘ What? Are you kidding me? It says on the website we’re open for business from nine to five.’ The voice belonged to a woman who didn’t sound as if she hailed from Yorkshire and definitely didn’t sound friendly. Taken aback, Lizzie said, ‘Sorry, it’s just that I’m in LA and off to bed soon. I thought if it was too early you’d have your phone switched off.’
‘Well, I didn’t. Clearly.’ The woman spoke with irritation. ‘Go on then, seeing as you’ve woken me up now. What’s your name and which house did you want to book?’
The website had stressed that the properties were owned and rented out by the friendly and welcoming Pursey-Haigh family. There were photos of Ruth and Robert Pursey-Haigh, both quite horsey-looking, and their tall, pale teenage daughters.
‘My name’s Lizzie Rafferty. I was calling because I wanted to rent your six-bedroomed house for an extended period. Are you Ruth?’ She waited for the reaction and heard a sharp intake of breath.
‘Oh my goodness, hello ! I should have recognised your voice! Yes, I’m Ruth Pursey-Haigh.’ Gone was the irritation, in came the gushing enthusiasm. ‘And my girls will be so thrilled when they hear about this! Now, tell me which dates you have your eye on and we can—’
‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind,’ said Lizzie. ‘Bye.’
She pressed the button as hard as she could, ending the call and hoping the woman would regret being stroppy with her now. So much for having visualised herself in the rooms of that beautiful property in the Yorkshire Dales. Well, Ruth had had her chance and she’d blown it.
Fine.
She’d find another place to stay.
And she wasn’t going to bed until she’d booked one.
This time it only took twenty minutes. Perversely, she wanted to phone the company before seven thirty to see if they a) answered and b) were nice to her on the phone before they knew who she was. It had become important.
Pine Lodge was the house she’d chosen. It was new and eclectically styled, so named because it backed onto a long line of mature Scots pines that in the photo were silhouetted against a duck-egg-blue sky. But the property had been built on an elevated section of land and from the front the views were uninterrupted, stretching for miles. In the kitchen there was a dining table capable of seating twenty people, although visitors weren’t on her agenda. There was also a private outdoor pool, a firepit and barbecue, and a hot tub on the terrace.
It wasn’t as huge as the place in Yorkshire, but it looked inviting. It stood on the edge of a village called Starbourne, which was in turn roughly midway between the market towns of Stroud and Cirencester in the Cotswolds. And at one end of the living room was a sculpture of an electric-blue alpaca, a giant chessboard and a pink baize pool table.
Who could ask for more?
Nineteen minutes past seven. On something of a mission now, Lizzie took a swig of pineapple juice and clicked on the number.
Be nice, be nice, or I’ll blow you out and go somewhere else. And don’t think I won’t, because I will .
‘Hello, Starbourne Prestige,’ said a male voice. ‘How can I help you?’
Better, much better . As he said it, the name rang the faintest of bells in her head, but she dismissed it. Last week she’d bought a silver eyeshadow called Starburst, it must be that.
‘Oh nooo,’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘I just worked out it’s early in the UK. Did I wake you?’
‘Not at all. It’s fine.’ He sounded amused. ‘Now, do you have a booking with us or are you wanting to make one?’
He had a nice voice. ‘Make one,’ she said promptly. ‘I’m interested in Pine Lodge.’
‘Great choice. Although they’re all great choices, of course. But it’s our newest property. When were you thinking of?’
Lizzie thought. Tomorrow would have been the dream, but even she knew she couldn’t walk out on a film that had been written for her. If she did that, she’d close down production, not to mention be blacklisted for good. She was contracted to turn up for the next twelve weeks. Which felt like a lifetime right now, but it really wasn’t. And she could handle it, because she didn’t have a choice. Anyway, now she would have something to look forward to.
‘Beginning of April. For . . . a couple of months? Or even three?’
‘Let’s have a look. You could be in luck, what with it being so new. It only went up on the website last night. Yes, we’re all clear, right up to the end of June. Well done. You got to us just in time.’
He sounded so lovely. She liked the warmth in his voice, and he was being helpful despite not knowing who she was. Plus, it was getting late. Suppressing a yawn, she said, ‘That’s fine, can I book it now? And is it peaceful there?’
‘Absolutely.’ There it was again, the smile in his voice. ‘It can be as peaceful as you want. And I haven’t put the details up on the website yet, but we’re also starting a concierge service, so your every whim will be catered for. Sorry, that sounds shady. Pretty much every whim.’
Lizzie yawned properly this time, overwhelmed with the urge to sleep. The rush of adrenalin born of desperation had subsided now she’d made her decision. She said, ‘Thanks. I’m not sure I’ll have any whims, but it’s good to know. And you sound nice. Are you nice?’
This time he laughed. ‘Every now and then.’
‘I tried to book another place first, but the woman was cross with me for phoning too early and waking her up.’
‘So you did know what the time is over here.’
Touché . ‘Oof. You caught me out.’
‘And when you asked if you’d woken me, I said you hadn’t. Which was my first fib of the day. I think that makes us even. Right, let’s get you booked in, shall we? Can I take your name?’
‘Lizzie Rafferty.’ Don’t gush, please don’t gush.
‘OK. Is that Lizzie with a y or an ie?’
‘With an ie.’
‘And your address?’
She gave him her agent’s address.
‘Are you Lizzie Rafferty the actress?’ His voice hadn’t changed.
‘I am. A very tired actress.’
‘Hey, you’ll be able to relax here. If you don’t want to be bothered, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.’
Her eyes prickled with gratitude as she reached for her credit card to make the online payment. ‘Thank you so much. That’d be great.’