Chapter Fifteen
Paddy was led through into the producer’s office and saw biscuits and coffee laid out on the small table and was directed towards one of the sofas. Great, she thought, bad news. Sofas and biscuits always preceded, ‘I am afraid to say—, there’s been a problem—, a delay—, something’s come up—, the thing is—, it’s not you—, it is you—, if only—.’
Oh well. She’d been paid well for yesterday’s show and despite wanting to avoid the after-show party, it had been fun to catch up with friends. When she told them she had been sunbathing the previous week most of them thought she was teasing. They only relented when she showed them her social media feed and she had the grace to point out it had rained nearly every day since that photo!
She looked around her, the room was a particularly fine example of overstated opulence. Everything, from the framed awards and showcased prizes to the photos with the great and the famous, smacked of overachieving. It was typically revolting and gave Paddy an idea of the sort of producer she was about to meet. She sighed. The German director hadn’t known who she was but it was unlikely she could strike out twice. Any producer worth his salt would know an asset when they were looking at one. The air freshener was also giving her a headache; she had noticed ever since arriving in London that her tolerance for the city smells had dwindled. Everything seemed overpowering and she’d already had to take some headache tablets just to try and deal with it. Now a sickly artificial vanilla scent was making her feel ill. She was wondering just how quickly she could get out of here. If she only knew what the problem was, she might have a better idea.
The door opened and her gorgeous co-actor walked into the room. Well, now she knew what the problem was. No doubt their scene was going to be cut or altered after all his ridiculous yawning and grinning at the camera. Inwardly she died, no wonder she’d gone to bed with him, he was a God. That easy smile, his lovely hands, those broad shoulders, that lazy confident demeanour. The receptionist clearly saw him in the same light as Paddy did, as she simpered and flirted with him. For a woman who probably dealt with film stars all day long this was impressive. Paddy was determined not to be seduced again, but her resolve nearly fractured when he saw her and his whole face changed from polite friendliness to unalloyed joy.
***
Hal was shown into a meeting room by a pretty receptionist. The room itself was frankly overwhelming. It looked like this production company was clearly a big deal within the industry. Bianca would be impressed; the corridor had been lined with photos of famous film stars, some even he recognised. As he walked into the room, he saw that Paddy was there and was delighted to see her. A second or two later he noticed she was scowling at him, and he felt crushed.
‘Oh, it’s you again.’ Disdain dripped from her beautiful mouth and he saw with a jolt that she was even more good-looking than he remembered. Last time he had seen her she had looked so upset; now she looked cross.
‘Yes, bit of a bad penny I suppose. Well, this looks like good news, doesn’t it? Sofa and biscuits. Always the sign of good news I’ve found.’
He was waffling but he found himself thrown by her presence. Once again, he was overwhelmed with feelings of shame and embarrassment and was finding it hard to balance that with how happy he was to simply see her. Her eyebrows arched and Hal felt that he’d said something stupid but again he was uncertain what that could be. He knew he should have started with an apology but he didn’t want to discuss their private matters in a public situation. Maybe after the meeting he could take her out for a coffee and apologise properly. Before he could try to dig into the issue, a small man in a golfing jumper with another jumper tied over his shoulders walked in. He appeared to be going for a country look but his Cuban heels seemed ludicrous and designer jeans just made him look, frankly, a bit flashy.
As he walked in, he confused Hal by approaching Paddy and getting her name wrong. ‘Holly McDonald. Can I just say, what a total pleasure it is to meet you?’
Holly stood up smiling, and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. Hal thought the scene looked ridiculous; at five ten she towered over this little man, even in his heels. Her slim frame accentuating her height whilst his flabby midriff emphasised his width. It was like a giraffe greeting a warthog. Embarrassed on Paddy’s behalf, Hal could see she was too well-mannered to correct the producer, but he felt it was important that this man should at least get her name right.
‘Actually the lady’s name is Paddy…’ and he faltered. He had forgotten her surname and, even worse, it dawned on him that Paddy was probably a nickname not her real name. He was aware both parties were now looking at him with amused pity and his hackles rose. He was about to speak again when Paddy came to his rescue.
‘Holly McDonald is my working name.’ And when he looked confused, she continued. ‘I’m a model; for privacy reasons, I use a separate, professional name.’
‘Oh, that explains it.’
Paddy’s cheeks burnt. That explained what? Did he think the reason she had gone to bed with him so easily was because she was a model? Was he one of those creeps who thought models basically slept around and had no morals or virtues? Trust her to sleep with someone who thought she was a tramp.
‘And what are you then? What do you do? Other than shoot defenceless creatures.’
‘Do?’ Hal was startled. Where had killing animals come from?
‘Yes. What do you do for a living?’
Hal was nonplussed, he’d never thought of what he did as a job.
‘Well I guess you’d call it Estate Management.’
Paddy looked at him blankly. ‘What does that mean?’ She settled back into her chair and pulled a magazine towards her. It was a trick she had learnt years ago. It was rude, she knew, but it often put people off their game, and she was still smarting from the way he had dismissed her as a model. She had never known someone bring out the worst in her so quickly. Her behaviour was dreadful but she was still dying from the shame of sleeping with a man who had a fiancée.
Hal stumbled, the girl was pulling a magazine towards her. Was he boring her, had she just blanked him? He was furious and decided to try and impress her, let her know who she was dealing with. On their dinner date they hadn’t discussed their private lives so maybe she was genuinely curious? ‘Actually, I look after our estate, the main house, 1,000 plus hectares, the tenant houses and the farm.’
‘Wow!’ she drawled, cleaning imaginary dirt out from under her fingernails. ‘Who owns all that then?’
‘We do. The family that is.’ As he watched her eyebrow arch up he felt uncomfortable. She didn’t seem impressed at all.
‘Your folks? So it’s not a real job? I mean, it’s not like they’ll sack you?’
She and the producer shared a knowing grin. Both of them had always worked for a living but regularly met people that had it handed to them on a plate.
‘So, you’re a part-time housekeeper? What else do you do?’ Paddy was aware she was now being incredibly rude but she finally had a glimpse into this man’s life. After her eldest sister, Ariana, had inherited the Hiverton Estate over in Norfolk, Paddy had a far better idea of this sort of lifestyle. Children were born into massive privilege and wealth; they went to boarding schools surrounded by other children just like them. They grew up and spent weekends playing in the countryside and jetting off to fabulous locations to watch models walk up and down catwalks, or tenors singing in open-air theatres, and polo ponies thundering down pitches. Then they returned to the dining rooms and champagne marquees and would repeat until they had children who would then pick up the baton and continue the cycle.
Hal could see he had been summed up and dismissed and he was furious. He wanted to answer but every response would invite further scorn. What the hell did some girl from the East End of London know about his life? He glared at the producer and cleared his throat.
‘You asked us here this morning for a reason?’
Tony jumped. He’d been buttering Holly up in the hope he might be able to get on her good side before he broke the bad news. Inadvertently, he’d managed to annoy Henry Ferguson. Whilst the man had no influence in the showbiz world he was probably armed to the teeth with lawyers and that was exactly what Tony was trying to avoid.
‘Yes, right. And how generous of you to put up with our teasing.’ He simpered at Henry, who scowled back. ‘The reason I asked you both here was because I have some rather tricky news.’
***
Bianca sipped at her espresso and tried to control her heartbeat. It was beyond stupid meeting Raoul today whilst Henry was in his meeting, but she just couldn’t resist the thrill of it. They’d only be having a drink, she told herself. If anyone saw them together she could just say he was an old family friend. As Raoul made his way through the tables she watched as heads turned to follow his progression. He was easily the most beautiful person in the room, and she sat preening in the knowledge that he was making a beeline for her. As he got to the table he kissed her warmly on both cheeks, clicking his manicured fingers for a waitress. Bianca loved the way people jumped to attention around him.
He wasn’t as tall as Henry nor as broad, but then she didn’t imagine that Raoul had ever got himself dirty on a rugby field, scrambling around in the mud with a bunch of other men. He would look beautiful riding on his pony, his lean frame leaning forward over the horse’s neck, as he swiped at a polo ball. Sadly, because of a current injury Bianca hadn’t actually seen him play yet but she could imagine it. Henry had a much more masculine presence but it was all rather obvious. They’d gone out on a yacht once. Bianca had been expecting a crew to bring her and Henry drinks whilst they lounged on the deck admiring the view. Instead, he had jumped up and mucked in, pulling on bits of rope and swapping rude jokes with the sailors. You’d never catch Raoul messing about like that. He knew exactly how to treat staff. Besides which, it was wrong of Henry to fraternise with the hired help. Her friend, Ginny, had told her that it only encouraged them to overstep the line. Ginny was the real deal; her dad was worth millions.
Holding her hand across the table, Raoul looked mournfully into her eyes. ‘Darling, I miss you so much. Why are you so cruel to me?’
Reluctantly Bianca pulled her hand back. ‘You know why. I’m due to be married in a couple of months. We can’t be together.’ God, she loved how dramatic that sounded.
‘But what is my life without you in it? It is only you that makes me come alive. Without you I shall have to return to Chile.’ He sighed deeply.
Bianca had first met Raoul at a polo tournament. He’d secretly confided in her that his father was a billionaire and that Raoul was in England scouting out ponies and teams for his father to invest in. Bianca was transfixed but annoyingly also dating Henry. He was the only son of a very wealthy landowner in Cornwall with a dodgy ticker. Admittedly Cornwall was out in the sticks but the house was fabulous and everyone treated him like the lord of the manor.
For a birthday present Henry had flown them first class to the Turks and Caicos Islands, where they’d stayed on a friend’s private island. She had enjoyed that very much. Every time they went shopping he would pick up the bill and she’d been able to expand her wardrobe dramatically. And she’d enjoyed that very much as well. But then she met Raoul. He always picked up the hotel restaurant bar bill and promised to shower her in jewels. When she had pointed out some earrings she liked, he had sighed melodramatically and said he couldn’t buy jewellery for another man’s woman. He was too proud. Not too proud about having sex with me though, she thought ungenerously. If he would only propose, but he hadn’t, so Bianca decided to call it a day and stick with Hal.
Only then she noticed that Hal was beginning to lose interest in her. Deciding which of the two men was more of a sucker for a sob story she told Hal she was pregnant and just as she had gambled, he proposed then and there. A while later she tragically ‘lost’ the baby. And again, as she had gambled, Hal didn’t cancel or postpone the wedding. She had fleetingly considered trying it on with Raoul but she was certain he was too smart to fall for it.
Temptation, though, was a terrible thing and she couldn’t resist meeting with him for a quick coffee. She thought she might be more in love with the excitement than with either of the two men, but she had to be careful not to spoil things. Maybe after she was married, she could bump into Raoul now and then when she was up in London. There was no way she was going to spend all her time cooped up in Cornwall. Looking at her watch she saw with a tingle that she had at least another half an hour. If only there was somewhere a bit more private.