Chapter 31
The bright spring weather continued and Robin and Jack were keen to finish slating the roof of the warehouse whilst it lasted. They also wanted to get all the new windows installed, thus making the building completely watertight. Once that had been completed, they could start to look at reconfiguring the inside.
Robin, always eager to press on, was pleased with the progress they’d made so far. Jack too was impressed with what they had managed to achieve, especially given the size of the place.
‘We’ll be able to get rid of the scaffolding by tomorrow,’ said Jack, looking up at the front of the warehouse, his hand blocking out the sun.
‘That’ll save us a fortune,’ replied Robin, ever mindful of the cost. They’d had to hire far more scaffolding than they owned, again because of the sheer size it had to cover. Not for the first time, he began to have reservations about taking on such a massive project. It was by far the biggest one they’d ever tackled, but more importantly it was the timing. Never before had he been under such pressure. Not that anyone was pressing him, both Jack and Jasmine kept telling him not to worry; but he was stressing himself. About to become a father to twins whilst still having this ongoing renovation filled him with anxiety. So much so, Jack was starting to worry about his friend. Seeing his face etched in angst, he nudged him.
‘Listen, mate, calm down. Everything’s going to work out fine.’
‘Will it though? The twins are due in July,’ said Robin, scraping his hand through his hair.
‘Look, I’ve put the feelers out, we’ll get help, stop worrying.’
Robin nodded, but remained quiet.
‘Anyway. There’s no rush to finish, is there? You’ve sold your flat, so there’s no money problems.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ conceded Robin.
‘And you have as much paternity leave as necessary,’ assured Jack again.
‘Thanks, mate,’ replied Robin, blowing out a breath. He suddenly realised how lucky he was to have Jack. He was so fortunate to work with his best friend. He couldn’t imagine other business partners being so understanding.
‘Right, let’s start to get the glazing in,’ said Jack, pointing to the sheets of glass waiting to be inserted into the new window frames.
They carefully lifted the first piece lent against the wall. They were using the ground floor room to store all the building equipment, so needed to carry the glass outside. On doing so, Jack tripped on some rubble on the concrete floor and the glass went crashing down. A shard of it landed in the back of his hand, slicing it. Blood poured out as Jack’s face twisted in agony.
‘Jack!’ cried Robin, rushing to see the damage. An ugly, deep incision had been made. He quickly took off his jacket and yanked off his T-shirt, then wrapped it round Jack’s hand. ‘We need to try and stop the blood flow,’ he told him. Then after tying it as tightly as possible, and slinging his jacket back on, he ushered Jack, who was looking extremely pale by now, into the van and headed at breakneck speed to A&E.
‘You OK, Jack?’ Robin was trying to keep his eyes on the road and him at the same time.
‘Yeah, think so,’ he replied while wincing in pain.
When they arrived at Lancaster hospital, Robin parked near the A&E department and they both hurried inside. The nurse, on seeing the amount of blood oozing from Jack’s hand, immediately took them into a nearby room. After gingerly taking off the blood-drenched T-shirt wrapped round the wound, she declared he’d need stitches. Jack, still white as a ghost, just nodded dumbly.
‘Do you want me to stay?’ asked Robin.
‘No, you go back and lock up,’ Jack told him. In their haste to get to the hospital the warehouse had been left un-locked, with all their equipment inside.
‘Sure?’
‘Yea, I’ll be fine, thanks.’
‘OK, ring when you’re ready to go,’ said Robin and left.
The nurse cleaned Jack’s hand as best she could before the doctor entered the room. Jack’s eyes widened at seeing the very attractive, red-haired woman dressed in royal blue scrubs lean over him to inspect his cut.
‘Eww, nasty,’ she squinted to get a closer look, while Jack was getting a closer look at her. She had flawless, fair skin, dotted with a sprinkle of freckles across the nose. Her eyes observantly assessed him, two green orbs, dark-ringed, with russet flecks. Jack’s pain began to vanish as his attention was diverted to this extraordinary creature before him. ‘A few stitches will soon sort this out,’ she smiled.
Jack sat motionless staring at her.
‘Hmm?’ he finally replied, when realising the doctor was waiting for some kind of response from him.
‘I said, you’ll need it stitched up, but don’t worry, I’m pretty handy with a needle and thread,’ she grinned.
‘Oh, yes, fine. Thanks,’ he said, still gazing at her.
The nurse swiftly supplied all the necessary implements and the doctor was soon injecting him with something to dull the pain. A few minutes later she was very strategically sewing the sliced skin back together. Jack observed the concentration in her face. Once finished she looked up at him with another smile.
‘There, all done.’
Jack looked down at the neat, tiny row of stitches.
‘Thanks.’
‘There’ll be a scar, but it’ll fade in time,’ she told him.
‘Thanks,’ he said again, unable to take his eyes off her, making no attempt to move.
‘Try and keep it as clean as possible,’ she instructed. At this Jack laughed.
‘That could prove tricky, given my trade,’ he said dryly.
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m a builder. We – that’s my business partner and I – are renovating the warehouse on the quay.’
‘Oh, yes, I noticed that had sold,’ nodded the doctor.
Having exchanged enough pleasantries, Jack knew it was time to go. No doubt this doctor would be needed for another impending emergency. Would it be inappropriate to ask her out? He noticed she didn’t wear a wedding ring. Then as if answering his question her pager bleeped into life and she had to leave rapidly, but not before he clocked her name badge, ‘Dr O’Hara’. Jack narrowed his eyes in contemplation. Well, he knew where to find her, didn’t he?
Robin had rushed back on site to clear all the broken glass away and lock up. It was no good attempting to do anything by himself. By the time he’d finished his mobile rang.
‘Hi, it’s me. I’m all stitched up,’ said Jack.
‘OK, I’ll come and fetch you.’
On the drive home they discussed the future of the renovation.
‘I’ll ring round tonight, try and get some immediate help,’ Jack said assertively. Now that he was restricted with his cut hand, time was of the essence.
‘Yeah, we need long-term help. If anyone can start, let’s keep them on.’ Robin looked at Jack’s hand. ‘You could do to rest that. The last thing you need is it getting infected.’
‘The doctor said to keep it clean,’ replied Jack.
‘Did he say anything else?’ asked Robin.
‘She,’ corrected Jack.
‘Sorry, did she say anything else?’
‘No…’ he paused, then decided not to continue.
‘What?’ said Robin, sensing something was afoot.
‘There was definitely an attraction, Rob.’
‘What?’ chuckled Robin, thinking how typical it was of Jack to come up with something like that, even in such circumstances.
‘I felt a real… connection.’ Jack looked wistfully into space, making Robin burst into laughter. He smothered it quickly at seeing Jack’s look of indignance.
‘And… er… did this doctor feel it too?’ asked Robin, trying valiantly to keep a straight face.
‘Dunno,’ shrugged Jack, then added with a sly grin, ‘but I know where she works.’
‘Ah, I get it. But don’t go having another accident mate,’ warned Robin.
‘Hmm, I’ll just have to plan another way to bump into Dr O’Hara,’ replied Jack dreamily.
Instantly Robin’s ears pricked up. He certainly knew that name, the very buyer of his flat. He opened his mouth to tell him, then closed it, choosing to surprise his mate instead.
‘I’m sure you’ll meet again,’ replied Robin with a knowing smile.
Felix stared in horror at the headline before him. He’d taken to
hunting through the tabloids of late, in search of Anika’s name. Only it
wasn’t her name that blazed in bold letters on the screen. It was Mel
Nichols. He gulped at reading the article.
Melvin Nichols, casting director, was found unconscious in his central London flat this morning. It is believed Mr Nichols had taken an overdose. He is currently in a stable condition. His family are devastated by his actions and ask for privacy at this very sad time…
Felix reached for his phone and rang Jennifer, his PA.
‘Jennifer, have you heard?’ he rasped.
‘Yes,’ came the cool reply.
‘But why did he try to take his own life?’ Felix asked gruffly, then added in panic, ‘You don’t think it was anything to do with my last conversation with him?’
‘No. I suspect he couldn’t face the shame of being exposed.’
‘Who by?’ cut in Felix abruptly.
‘Rumour has it, he was caught by the chief executive in flagrante with a runner in the dressing room,’ replied Jennifer, whose phone had been busy all morning. ‘I was just about to ring you.’
Felix took a sharp intake of breath. He closed his eyes in relief. He hated the thought of any potential blood on his hands.
‘So,’ continued Jennifer in the same chilly tone, ‘the old queen was finally ousted.’
‘But, to do this?’ said Felix incredulously.
‘He certainly doesn’t get my sympathy vote. Just remember what he was, Felix. And besides, it looks like he’s going to make a full recovery.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Felix. There was an empty, poignant silence.
‘And it may not even reach the press, how he abused his power. He could still get away with it.’ The scorn in Jennifer’s voice was evident.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ replied Felix. ‘After this, I’ll wager there’ll be a few actors ready to spill the beans.’
‘Well, let’s hope so.’
They said their goodbyes but not before Felix invited her to the end of show party.
As the glorious weather had held out, the TV crew had been able to complete all the outside scenes, leaving the filming ahead of schedule. This had put everyone in high spirits and the much-anticipated knees up was most welcome.
Emma too was elated at hearing the Lady Scarlett Investigates theme tune, which Laurence Willis had very kindly sent her on a CD. She’d jumped for joy when Felix had blasted it out on surround sound. Her very own track! She, Emma Scholar, was about to sing to the nation. Or, as Felix pointed out, possibly the world, if the rights to the series were sold internationally. This could only open up further doors to a singing career.
As for Felix, he was just plain relieved he’d managed to complete the filming well within time and on budget, which wouldn’t go unnoticed at the studio. Hopefully, this would bode well if he wanted another stab at directing. For now though, he relished the time off and the peace and quiet it gave him. And he hadn’t forgotten that holiday he promised Emma. They both deserved a much well-earned break. That said, the last few days had been rather hectic, organising the end of show party.
Felix wasn’t one to scrimp and had ordered enough booze to sink a ship. Emma had arranged for outside caterers to prepare all the food. She smirked to herself, wondering if, under different circumstances, she’d have been the one to sort it out, then giggled, recalling when Polly had called her ‘the real lady of the house’. Well, she was now.
Felix and Emma had asked for a 1920s dress code. Each thought it would add a touch of glamour and fun. Bunty had been thrilled when hearing this, claiming it would be just like the ‘old days’ when her mother had enjoyed the same style at her parties in the Art Deco house. Both she and Perry had been invited, as had Jasmine and Robin.
On Felix’s insistence, Emma was to wear the same outfit he’d seen her in for the first time. Emma had sat playing the piano in the hall at Bunty’s open house day wearing a gold beaded dress, complete with a crystal chain headpiece.
‘You will sing for us, won’t you?’ Felix asked.
‘Maybe,’ she shrugged, not wanting to steal the limelight.
‘Go on,’ he coaxed, with a winning smile.
‘Well, perhaps just the theme tune,’ she relented.
‘Very apt,’ he winked.
Thankfully, the day of the party saw an orange-red sunrise slowly rise up across Samphire Bay. The marbled hall was flood-lit by its glow, as the catering staff hurried about their duties. In keeping with the occasion, they were dressed in black and white waitress uniforms and carried silver trays with flutes of sparkling champagne. A jazz band set up by the piano was playing. The cast and crew had hired two coaches to take and collect them and had arrived bang on time. In they all piled, eager to celebrate. Polly came in character, much to everyone’s delight. Suffice to say that nobody mentioned Mel, not even Jennifer when she landed dressed as a flapper girl. Felix grinned as he passed her a glass of fizz.
‘You look fab, Jennifer, good sport.’
‘I can let my hair down sometimes, you know,’ she joked, taking a gulp.
Bunty and Perry arrived with Robin and an ever-expanding Jasmine. Not to be outdone, Jasmine had tailored a maternity dress with tassels and wore a sequined headband, while Robin looked very demure with his sleeked back hair and false moustache.
Everyone had made a huge effort, fully getting into the spirit. Felix looked on from the balcony, his arms round Emma. Had it only been last summer when he’d first stepped foot into this very hall? Little had he known then just how his life was about to change – and all for the better. He glanced at Emma, watching the crowd below dancing to the band music.
‘Are you dancing?’ he asked, arching an eyebrow. She turned and smiled.
‘Are you asking?’
‘I’m asking,’ he replied.
‘I’m dancing,’ she grinned, then tip-toed up to kiss him. Never had she been so happy. Coming to Samphire Bay had been the best move she’d ever made.
Together, hand-in-hand, they descended the stairs and joined their guests.