Chapter 11
‘Right, folks, let’s run through it one last time,’ spoke Felix to the two actors and cameramen. They were in the drawing room about to shoot the first few scenes. ‘Polly, you’ve just poured yourself a Martini,’ he pointed to the mirrored glass drinks cabinet, ‘then you walk to the window,’ he turned to one of the cameramen, ‘make sure you get the bay outside, it’s looking dark and gloomy out there today, I want it to reflect the mood,’ then he faced Polly again, ‘you’re pondering, deep in thought.’
‘Yep, got it,’ replied Polly.
‘And, Brian, I want you to be assuring towards Polly, but inside you’re alarmed, you’ve a murderer in the house, yea?’
‘Yes.’ Brian nodded, a tad irritated by Felix’s unnecessary direction. He was an accomplished actor, after all, and didn’t need it spelling out quite so patronisingly. He excused Felix’s behaviour as it was his first shot at directing.
‘OK, let’s go… and action!’ Felix stood back and watched intently.
Polly was a real pro, she poured the Martini with ease and sauntered over to the bow window. Her green eyes looked over the rim of the raised cocktail glass out to the bay. She let out a sigh of fear and confusion.
‘But who would have wanted to kill the cook, Daddy?’
Brian slowly raised from the sofa and moved to stand behind her. Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, he recited his line.
‘Now, now, old bean, you know what the inspector said. Let’s leave it to the constabulary.’
She turned to him with searching eyes. ‘Jilly, the scullery maid, said she’d overheard raised voices between the cook and Wilson. But surely the butler wouldn’t stab the cook in the back, and with her own kitchen knife no less!’
‘I think we all need to keep calm,’ soothed the father.
‘Where was Wilson, when Jilly found the body?’
‘Cut!’ shouted Felix. They all looked abruptly towards him.
‘Polly, I want more… insistence , more resolve, yeah?’
Polly nodded. ‘Got it.’
‘From that line. Action!’
‘Where was Wilson, when Jilly found the body?’ She narrowed her eyes, then twisted back to the window to gaze out in deliberation.
‘Now don’t go snooping, Scarlett, this is dangerous territory,’ warned Brian.
‘It’s not snooping, Daddy.’ She took a sip of Martini and looked her father squarely in the face. ‘I have a talent for solving crimes.’
‘Promise me you’ll not do anything rash? I know how impulsive you can be, Scarlett.’
‘Of course not.’ She gave a foxy smile. Felix signalled towards the cued cameraman to zoom in for a close-up shot to end the scene.
‘And cut!’ called Felix, pleased with the take.
Emma couldn’t resist listening in behind the drawing room door. She was so intrigued to hear what was going on. On the pretext of collecting the post in the hall, she’d paused as she’d passed by. When she heard Felix shout ‘cut’ she quickly dashed to the front door to pick up two delivered envelopes. Emma saw one was just a utility bill, but the other was a hand-written envelope addressed to Felix. It looked to be on expensive, thick white paper. Who hand writes letters these days? thought Emma, puzzled. As she walked back, Felix was coming out from the drawing room.
‘Felix, this has just arrived for you,’ said Emma passing him the letter.
‘Oh, right,’ he frowned, obviously not expecting something. He then looked up. ‘Any chance of coffee? We’ve wrapped up for the morning.’
‘Yeah, sure, I’ll bring it up,’ replied Emma, pleased to assist.
Within half an hour she’d set up the hostess trolley in the hall and the cameramen, Polly, Brian and Felix were enjoying a well-earned break.
‘You not having a coffee, Emma?’ asked Felix, beckoning her to join them.
‘Oh, err…’ Emma hesitated.
‘Here, take this,’ said Polly, passing her a cup.
‘Thanks,’ Emma replied with a smile.
She was really warming to the actress. Being a similar age and both artists in their own field, they had quite a bit in common. Ever since that cheeky remark about her being ‘the real lady of the house’, Emma had shared a bit of banter back. Together they enjoyed gossip and giggles, particularly about the rest of the cast.
‘He’s got a toyboy,’ Polly had whispered about Brian Chapman, the actor playing her father, Lord Pemberton.
‘No!’ hissed Emma.
This was indeed a scandal, considering the man had been a real lothario in the seventies and was married with four children.
‘Yep, honestly. They have a flat together in London. Lives a double life apparently.’
‘Blimey,’ gushed Emma with wide eyes.
Then Polly had given her a mischievous look. ‘You got any hot gossip?’
‘Me? No. What would I know?’ replied Emma in surprise.
‘Sure?’ Polly said, raising her eyebrow in the same suggestive way she had previously.
‘What are you getting at?’ Emma asked, suspecting she already knew.
‘Oh, come on, you know what,’ retorted Polly with a smirk. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at each other.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You and Felix. I definitely sense there’s something going on between you two,’ said Polly, looking at her through slit eyes.
‘Well, there isn’t.’ Emma laughed even though inside she was pleased that Polly had said ‘you two’ and not just her. Whilst knowing how much she was attracted to Felix, it was gratifying to think her feelings could be reciprocated.
‘Hmm,’ replied Polly, clearly unconvinced, but deciding to drop the subject.
Now, seeing them together though, her suspicions could only be confirmed. They did seem very comfortable together. She watched how Felix automatically stood next to Emma, chatting and laughing easily with her. Considering he was her employer, he appeared very tentative towards his housekeeper. He involved her, whether it be for drinks or meals, Emma was always included, and he clearly didn’t treat her like a member of staff. Polly liked it, the fact Felix was so down-to-earth and unaffected. Initially, when she’d found out Felix Paschal was directing Lady Scarlett Investigates she’d felt a little daunted. Like many others, she’d read the media’s portrayal of him. But having now worked with the man, she knew the accounts of him must be lies. Never had she witnessed or experienced any of the shocking anger or rages his ex-girlfriend had accused him of – quite the opposite, in fact. On the occasions she’d forgotten her lines, or missed a particular direction, Felix had shown nothing but patience. He was a dream to work with, always encouraging the team.
She then eyed Emma, who always looked so pretty in a totally unassuming way. Today she wore a cheesecloth, embroidered blouse and denim skirt, and looked amazing. Not the most conventional housekeeper’s uniform, she grinned to herself. Emma’s curls were free, tumbling down her shoulders, and Polly noticed the way Felix kept looking, as though wanting to touch them. Yes, she concluded, there was most undoubtedly a magnetism between the two.
Felix finally finished filming at the end of a very busy day.
Although he was enjoying his new role as a director, he found it
immensely tiring. As an actor he had breaks in between scenes, but
directing meant no rest at all. He was on hand all the time. At least he
didn’t have to travel to and from the studios though, he thought,
wearily making his way up the stairs. He wanted a well-earned bath
before dinner.
Undressing in his bedroom, he remembered the letter which he’d put in his back pocket. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the envelope. A sickening sensation hit him in the stomach again at recognising Anika’s handwriting. So, she’d resorted to this, handwriting and posting him a letter, which obviously meant she knew his address. Marvellous. Debating whether or not to actually open the bloody thing, he gave in and ripped the white paper open.
So, Felix,
You’ve had the impudence to block me from your emails, all social media and phone too.
I did warn you that you’d regret your behaviour towards me. Surely the press you’ve been given is indicative of the power I have over you?
That said, I am a tolerant person and am prepared to put the past behind me. I understand playing second best to a world-famous supermodel like me must be challenging – and for this, I forgive you.
I hear you’ve started filming now, well done. Perhaps fulfilling your ambition of directing will massage your ego enough to match my status. Let’s hope so.
I’ll be in touch.
Felix stared incredulously, open mouthed at her words, not quite believing what he’d just read. But it was all there before him in black and white. Anika truly thought she was so superior to him (and everyone else). The girl was delusional. No, Anika was more than that, she was actually unbalanced. This was getting scary now. Felix was beginning to feel more than just tired and frustrated with her, he was unnerved. Anika’s texts, calls and now letters were not the actions of a sane, rational human being. Neither were her lies to the press for that matter. She had totally discredited him, or at least tried her damndest to.
He re-read the letter and shook his head, still staggered. More than anything, Anika needed help. Some form of counselling to make her understand their relationship was over. Her utter refusal to accept he had ended it was frightening. Just what lengths was she prepared to go to? His eyes homed in on her final words, ‘ I’ll be in touch’ . What the hell was going on in that mad mind of hers? He swallowed at the thought of Anika knowing his every move, plus, more threateningly, his address. Somebody was informing her. There had to be a mole in the camp. But who? He genuinely had no idea. Why would anybody he knew want to tell Anika details about him? None of it made sense.
As much as he wanted to just bin and forget the letter, he knew he mustn’t. It was evidence. Despite hoping she’d tire of tormenting him, he now acknowledged this wasn’t going to happen. Him barring her from his phone had only made her worse. If he believed Anika would simply give up contacting him, then he was as delusional as her. She wouldn’t. If anything, she was going to get worse; he knew how Anika operated. With a sinking heart Felix had to admit defeat. It was time to call the police. Anika’s actions were tantamount to stalking and, for a fearful moment, his thoughts took an even more sinister turn. If she knew where he lived and she intended to ‘keep in touch’, did she plan on showing up at his house? His mind cast back to a previous message of hers, when she’d texted that it was ‘ time to visit?’ .
If it was just him living here alone, he’d be able to handle it, but he didn’t. There was Emma to consider. How would Anika react to another woman, albeit his housekeeper, living under his roof? He imagined Emma opening the door to Anika and a chill ran over him, knowing how jealous his ex-girlfriend got. Poor Emma wouldn’t stand a chance looking like she did. Anika was hardly likely to assume she was the housekeeper. At pains to admit how irrational Anika clearly was, and also taking into consideration her foul temper and vindictive streak, he became even more wary. As well as involving the police, he had to warn Emma.
He ran a bath and climbed into its soothing water. Sinking below the surface, he wanted to block out all the hassle. He rued the day he met Anika Genness. Everything about the woman was superficial and false. Rising up, he swept his hair back and rested his arms along the bath sides. He narrowed his eyes in contemplation. Maybe it was time to retaliate and give an interview of his own? After all, he knew enough about her to do some damage, didn’t he? Her outbursts of anger were notorious within the modelling world, perhaps he should make it public… Just disclosing her real name would be enough to injure her. Anika hated the fact she’d really been plain old Ann Jones. Then the voice of reason kicked in. Was he really doing himself any favours by stooping to her level? He could hear what his mother’s wise words of wisdom would be, ‘ Do not lower yourself my son ’. And she’d be right. If he started mudslinging, God knows where it would all end. No, he needed to keep calm and inform the authorities.
After bathing, he dressed casually in a white T-shirt and faded jeans and made his way downstairs into the kitchen. Emma was just taking a lasagne out of the oven when he entered.
‘I’ll have it ready soon,’ she said, surprised to see him.
‘I was thinking of having dinner in here tonight, with you?’
‘Oh, right.’ Emma was taken aback. Usually she’d either set up the table in the dining room, or a tray for him in the drawing room, in front of the TV, depending on his mood. Tonight he obviously wanted company.
‘Is that OK?’ Felix asked with a small frown, suddenly worried he was intruding on her downtime.
Emma smiled. ‘Of course.’ In fact, she’d like to enjoy his company for a little while; once filming was done for the day and everyone had left, she often found the silence and emptiness of the house quite lonely.
‘I’ll set the table,’ he offered, surprising her further.
‘Thanks. Cutlery is in that drawer.’ She pointed to the dresser.
‘I’ll get the wine, more importantly,’ he grinned.
‘Be careful, the cellar steps are steep,’ warned Emma.
Soon they were sat eating cosily at the kitchen table. Outside a storm was brewing and the wind whistled through the windows, but the heat of the aga protected them against the cold of the draughts. With the kitchen lamps on the walls blanketing the room in soft lighting, it was immensely comforting to be hunkered down inside, whilst the elements battled outside. Emma had the radio on in the background, tuned in to an easy listening station.
Felix poured them both generous glasses of wine. It felt good to relax as he sipped his drink taking in Emma. She had a hearty appetite which he liked and reminded him of his mother, who always appreciated her food too. No fussy picking away, just enjoying what was on her plate.
‘So, what brings you down here tonight?’ asked Emma. It wasn’t said with any rudeness, but genuine curiosity.
That was another thing he appreciated about her, thought Felix. With Emma there were no hidden agendas or silly mind games. She just came out with it.
His face turned serious. ‘Emma, there’s something you need to know,’ he started in a sombre tone, making her look up sharply.
‘What?’ she asked, alarmed.
‘Where to start?’ he answered resignedly, putting down his knife and fork before sitting back and gulping a mouthful of wine.
‘At the beginning is usually best,’ said Emma, suddenly feeling sorry for him. He looked so… defeated.
‘OK.’ He nodded and proceeded to tell her everything. At the end of a detailed account of his and Anika’s relationship and her present-day vengeance, Emma sat motionless.
‘I’m… stunned,’ was all she could say.
‘Here.’ He reached inside his pocket and passed her Anika’s letter.
Emma read it then faced him with wide eyes.
‘Felix, this isn’t normal.’
He let out a bark of laughter. ‘I know that, Emma.’ Then, after pausing, added, ‘But besides ringing the police, what can I do?’
‘Nothing. You’ll have to leave it in their hands,’ Emma replied gravely. ‘Keep the envelope, the police may want to see the post mark,’ she advised.
Felix nodded in agreement. How had it got to this?
‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ he apologised quietly.
‘It’s not your fault, Felix.’ She covered his hand with hers on the table.
The weight of her hand was solid, warm and inviting; the complete opposite to how Anika made him feel. Looking into her amber eyes, his heart melted.
‘Thank you for being so understanding. Many in your position would run a mile.’
Hmm, thought Emma, looking into his extremely handsome face, I don’t think so.