Chapter 13
It was twilight as Perry drove to Samphire Bay. He was having dinner at Bunty’s this evening and was thoroughly looking forward to some company. He was still struggling with an empty house, devoid of Emma, made worse by the fact that his daughter had been so noisy that the silence was even more evident. Whether it be stomping up and down the stairs, banging doors or singing loudly, her presence was always known. Even when cooking a meal, pots and pans could be heard being bashed about, with the radio on in the background. Perry softly chuckled, hoping she didn’t make the same level of sound over at Felix Paschal’s place.
Now though, when she wasn’t there, he sorely missed listening to all the stomping and banging, but most of all her lovely voice. That, he could happily listen to all day. Out of sheer despondency, he dug out an old demo tape she’d made years ago. Emma had often laughed when playing it, saying her voice hadn’t been as good when she’d been a young teenager. True, her singing had improved after receiving some professional training, but there was no doubt she’d had a natural talent.
As he drove along the coastal road he saw Bunty and Jasmine’s cottages softly lit up in the distance. How cosy they looked standing on the edge of the bay, surrounded by such scenery. Even as the days grew longer, Samphire Bay still delivered stunning sunsets, casting burnt oranges and deep pinks across the inky still water. The place seemed magical to him. Not for the first time, Perry reflected on what could have been. Had Bunty’s father accepted him all those years ago… Still, it was no good mulling over the past and besides, had he not moved away from Samphire Bay he would never have met his late wife Valerie, or had Emma in his life, and that would have been a tragedy.
He parked outside the cottages and made his way up the garden path, waving at Jasmine over the hedge, who was still working in her studio. He knocked at Bunty’s door and stepped inside. The warmth from the wood burner was welcome, as was the smell of the casserole cooking in the oven.
‘In here!’ trilled Bunty.
Perry went into the lounge to join her. She was on the sofa surrounded by holiday brochures.
‘Hello there, what are you busy with?’ asked Perry, coming to sit down next to her.
‘I’ve decided, it’s time to have a holiday,’ Bunty announced, flicking through the glossy pages. ‘The cold weather can be so dreary, I’d love to have a break.’
Perry picked up a brochure at random and glanced at its cover. ‘Oh yes, anywhere in particular?’
‘Hmm, not sure yet.’ She frowned. ‘There’s so much choice.’
Perry nodded, whilst wondering if this holiday might include him. Not wanting to ask outright, he bided his time. His eyes clocked the countries Bunty was considering on the scattered brochures, Portugal, Egypt, Cyprus, blimey, even Dubai. He grimaced. All this was a far cry from the narrowboat holidays he enjoyed. For him, there was nothing better than sailing nonchalantly down a peaceful canal. It was good for the soul and gladdened his heart. He really could not understand why people put themselves through the stress of travelling abroad. The thought of queuing for hours in an airport, to be shackled into a tiny space next to strangers on a plane and frying under unbearable heat in some foreign country where nobody understood you, baffled him. Not when you had the calm and tranquillity of your own boat.
‘What do you think?’ Bunty showed him a folded page headed, Turkey – the land of eastern promise.
Perry’s eyes swept over it, then met hers.
‘Well?’ she urged.
‘It’s… not what I’d go for,’ he answered carefully.
‘Oh.’ Bunty paused, then asked, ‘What would you go for then?’
‘None of these countries,’ he replied with a grimace, pointing to all the brochures.
Bunty stared at him with a puzzled expression.
‘If I were to choose a holiday,’ he started to explain, ‘I’d stay in this country.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t be bothered driving and—’
‘On the boat,’ he interrupted.
‘Ah, yes, of course,’ she smiled, suddenly warming to the idea, but maybe not in winter.
Her reaction pleased him, but he sensed a degree of hesitation. He attempted to sell his idea further.
‘Holidaying on the boat is enchanting. It offers a great alternative to the hustle and bustle on land. You can enjoy snug evenings, visit waterside pubs with roaring log fires and wake up to the crisp, clean country air.’
Bunty was considering it, brow furrowed as she tapped a finger against her lips.
‘Where would we go?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Chester? We could go to the craft markets and a concert in the cathedral? Plus, there’s the historic tours and city walls.’ He refrained from saying he had previously done this with Valerie.
Bunty’s face lit up. ‘That would be lovely!’
‘So, you fancy a holiday aboard The Merry Perry then? You’d have a steady hand at the tiller.’ He raised a playful eyebrow.
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands with glee.
Bunty’s eyes twinkled in delight. What a breath of fresh air this man was. She took in his paisley shirt, jaunty neckerchief and long layered grey hair. Her very own sexy buccaneer! She pictured them sailing off into the sunset and was sold.
‘Good,’ he said firmly, while collecting the brochures up in a pile. ‘We won’t be needing these then.’
‘Cut!’ called Felix again. ‘Brian, I need more urgency,
yeah? The scullery maid’s gone missing and there’s a killer on the
loose.’ He also muttered something inaudible under his breath in
frustration.
Today had been the most taxing so far. It just wasn’t happening. Nobody had fully remembered their lines, the timing was out and the ring of the front door bell had been picked up by sound and interrupted filming.
Brian threw him a filthy glare and was very tempted to tell Felix where to stick his urgency. Quite frankly he’d had enough. So what if he couldn’t remember every single word? He hadn’t got where he was today without a little improvisation.
‘And,’ added Felix, ‘if you can’t remember the script, do not make it up,’ he stated flatly, earning him another black look. ‘Right, from the top, action!’
‘Julie’s been missing since—’ Polly began.
‘Cut!’ roared Felix. All stopped abruptly. ‘The maid is called Jilly!’ he wailed, throwing his hands in the air.
‘Oh yes, sorry.’ Polly winced, nerves starting to get the better of her.
‘Again… and action!’ called Felix.
As the commotion upstairs took place, Emma was down in the kitchen, getting the mid-morning coffee ready. From what she’d heard coming from the library where they were filming today, the cast and crew would be more than ready for a break. On hearing the doorbell, she’d immediately gone to the hall to answer it but, when she’d opened the front doors, nobody was there. Looking down, she’d spotted a parcel left on the doormat. Emma had picked up the cardboard box and looked around her. Whoever had left it obviously wasn’t waiting for a signature. When she examined the box, she noticed it didn’t have an address on, let alone any postage stamps. It was simply addressed to ‘Felix’. Frowning, Emma took it inside and locked the doors behind her. She put the parcel on the console table in the hall and went to get the refreshments for breaktime.
‘OK, it’s a wrap,’ declared Felix somewhat jadedly. He could do with a brandy, never mind coffee.
Brian, still smarting from his direction earlier, nudged past him into the hall and went straight for the hostess trolly.
‘Sorry about before,’ apologised Polly. ‘I’ll try not to let it happen again.’
Felix turned and gave a tight smile. Had he been too hard on them? He hoped not. Then he recalled how he’d treated Jennifer in the past, without realising how much he’d worked her. He ran a hand through his dark hair and coughed.
‘Hey, everyone,’ he called out to the small crowd now filling the marbled hall. His voice echoed as they all stopped chatting to face him. ‘I’m… er… sorry if I’ve been a touch… picky today—’
‘Just a bit,’ Brian muttered into his cup.
‘But it’s only because I want the best for the drama,’ he continued, eyeing them all, hoping they’d understand.
Emma, handing out cups, looked up in surprise. This wasn’t like Felix. He appeared tired and drawn. Clearly the stress was getting to him, which was no surprise considering that he was contending with rather a lot. Not just the pressure of directing a TV drama for the first time, but all the anxiety his manic ex-girlfriend was causing too. Was it any wonder the guy looked so exhausted? And yet, still so sexy. Emma’s gaze homed in on the broad shoulders and muscular arms beneath his fitted black jumper. It highlighted the darkness of his hair against his tanned skin. She knew filming would halt over the coming break and welcomed it. She could do with a rest as much as Felix. She had a gig with the band and was looking forward to that as well. She’d missed being with Gaz, Mitch and Sophie.
Pouring a coffee for Felix, she wandered over to him and passed him a cup.
‘Here,’ she offered.
‘Oh, thanks, Emma,’ he sighed and took a drink.
‘A parcel came for you, I left it on the console table.’ She haltered, then continued, ‘It’s strange though, it must have been hand delivered, but nobody was outside when I opened the doors.’
Felix’s eyes narrowed. Instantly his hackles were up, his whole body on high alert. His first instinct was to take the parcel away and open it in private, but he remained motionless. He still had an afternoon’s filming ahead of him and didn’t want any further distractions. With another sigh, he momentarily closed his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping of late, his mind forever over-active.
‘Are you OK?’ Emma whispered, concern etched on her face.
He turned and looked into those mesmerising amber eyes of hers and for a second was lost in them.
‘Felix?’ she urged.
‘Hmm? Sorry… yes, just tired that’s all,’ he replied and sipped his coffee.
‘Good job, you’re due a break.’ She gave him a small but sincere smile before heading across the room to speak to Polly.
Felix paused and for the first time considered the scheduled break in filming. Would Emma be expecting leave, as the house would be pretty empty then? The thought of spending so much time in this big house without her filled him with dismay. Then another dark thought snaked its way in; maybe he’d never be completely alone, not with a stalker.
He looked at Emma who was chatting animatedly with Polly, looking so carefree and natural. His eyes slid over her slim body in a figure-hugging sweater dress. He couldn’t help but admire her curves, then immediately tried to quash the direction of his thoughts. Should he really be having such lustful thoughts about his housekeeper? He wasn’t the only one though. He’d noticed one or two covetous looks coming from the cameramen directed Emma’s way. Felix had felt a compulsion to warn them off, he was her employer after all. Yes, he was just being protective of her, that was all.
Meanwhile, Polly had clocked Felix’s face and it told her everything she already suspected. She’d seen him run his eyes over Emma with desire. He fancied her rotten, it was blatantly obvious. But had he made his move yet, she wondered?
‘So, it’s at Red Rose Brewery,’ said Emma.
‘Sorry?’ Polly blinked.
‘The gig, if you want to come along,’ she replied.
‘Oh, I’ll be at home, with there being a break in filming,’ said Polly regretfully.
‘Oh well, never mind.’ Emma shrugged, then moved the conversation along to Polly’s plans until the break was over.
After another hard afternoon filming, Felix finally called it a wrap. He saw the cast and crew off the premises himself and locked the doors. Then he noticed the parcel on the console table and took it into the drawing room to open it up. Preparing himself, he delved inside the cardboard box and pulled out a framed photograph. It was of him and Anika on the red carpet at a film premier, looking into each other’s eyes. He looked handsome and happy in his dark suit and white shirt, one arm round Anika, lips pursed in a smug half-smile, her silver sequinned gown reflecting the lights of the camera flashes. The picture-perfect couple – not. However perfect this couple appeared, Felix knew different. That very night, Anika had thrown a tantrum because he’d apparently paid too much attention to a female co-star. It had resulted in her smashing a full bottle of champagne and hurling it across the kitchen at him.
Felix inhaled deeply. This picture had been hand delivered. He needed to scan the security camera footage and contact the police. Anger surged through him. What would it take to stop this woman?