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  There was nothing for it. She had to put up the barriers. Her heart was breaking into jagged pieces, but she’d die rather than admit it.

  The day dragged on interminably. Some of the kids hadn’t grasped that it was a run- through and kept stopping. When they didn’t receive the usual prompt or suggestion, their performance dived-bombed.

  ‘First run-through,’ muttered Greg as they were waiting in the wings for their cue. ‘Nearly as bad as the read-through.’

  Dora smiled at him. His performance hadn’t been good, but then no one’s had been. It wasn’t the point of a run-through.

  ‘I think the kids are rather discouraged,’ she whispered.

  ‘Bound to be. Mike will give them a pep talk later. He’s excellent at that sort of thing. Force of nature, is Mike.’

  Dora peered through a tear in a side curtain. Mike was sitting with his legs astride a backwards-facing chair. His hair was sticking up any old how and he had a coffee stain down one sleeve of his shirt. He was fiercely concentrating on what was happening onstage, his brows knitted, a scowl on his face.

  How she loved him. And how he must never know. Her pride would simply not allow it. She’d do the best job she could and then walk away, leaving him to Kirstie’s tender mercies.

  ‘Uh-oh, that’s me.’ Greg shook out his hands and bent his head from side to side to iron out the kinks in his shoulders. Then he strode onto stage. Dora willed herself to forget about Mike and went through her mental preparations to get back into character as Anne. ‘Get the job done,’ she muttered. ‘And get the hell out.’

  Chapter 24

  ‘Oh God, where the fucketty-fuck is it?’ Dora hunted through her bag for her shawl. It had been a long day. Two run-throughs and brief notes from Mike and the rest of the cast had staggered up the hill to the Bear. Not able to face Mike with the inevitable Kirstie hanging off his arm, she’d refused the invitation, claiming exhaustion. If only she could find her mother’s shawl, the sooner she’d be out of here and into a hot bath the better. The exhaustion was real; she was bone-tired and, ridiculously, close to tears.

  ‘Your language really is something.’

  It was Mike. Of course it was Mike. He was always first in and the last to go home.

  ‘Looking for this? I found it backstage.’

  She wanted to wrap him up in it. To tie him to her. To kiss him until they had no breath spare. Instead, she snatched it off him and stuffed it unceremoniously into her bag.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, mildly.

  ‘You know, if this place was properly heated or ventilated I wouldn’t need to wear three hundred layers. If I lost that shawl my mother would kill me. It’s cashmere.’ Viciously, she shoved it further down her bag.

  ‘I can see it’s very precious.’

  Dora ignored his sarcasm and straightened her aching back. ‘Oh you can, can you? I’m amazed.’ She pointed vaguely in the direction of outside. ‘It’s eighty degrees out there and you have us working in these inhumane conditions.’ One of her favourite parts at drama school had been Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. The woman was blasting her way through again. Maybe in rebellion against goody-two-shoes Anne Elliot. Dora squared her shoulders for a fight.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to.’

  Dora could hear the stifled laughter in his voice. It made her even madder. ‘You can bet that’s right. For weeks I’ve put up with it. Crap coffee, amateurs who haven’t a clue, ruddy Greg Symon, who is useless and that fucking annoying drip from the ceiling. It’s like Chinese water torture.’ She moved closer to Mike, so close she could see his eyes glittering. All humour had gone.

  ‘I’ve starred in one of the highest-ranking network shows in America. I’ve got a beachside house in Malibu and a villa in Siena. I’ve been nominated for three Emmys and won a Golden Globe. And you’ve got me working here.’ She gestured wildly to the shabby interior. She edged closer. Annoyingly, Mike still hadn’t risen to the bait.

  ‘Go home, Dora. You’re tired.’

  It was too late. Now she’d begun she couldn’t stop. All the frustration poured out of her. One part of her could hear the silly, spoiled notes spike her voice and make it ugly and shrill. ‘What sort of director has us do two run-throughs? In one day!’ She drew herself up. ‘It’s clear you have no idea what you’re doing.’ She jabbed him in the chest. ‘It’s a tin-pot production in a tin-pot town and the sooner I’m out of it the better.’

  Mike grabbed her hand and held it against his chest. She could feel his heart beating wildly, matching her pulse. ‘You’re welcome to leave at any time, Dora,’ he said on a level whisper. He brought his face next to hers. ‘In fact, as you’ve made your feelings abundantly clear, why don’t you just do that?’

  She met his look. ‘And where would that leave you? Your biggest name.’ Raising her chin defiantly, she sneered, ‘Wouldn’t be much of a show without me, would it?’

  ‘Cut the diva crap, Dora.’

  ‘Cut the crap, Mike, and kiss me.’

  The kiss slammed her against the side of the stage. He crushed her to him with a savagery she hadn’t known him capable. She grabbed onto his shirt and heard the sharp sound of tearing. Holding her by the waist, he lifted her up onto the stage and pressed himself between her legs. Furiously, he unzipped her fleece and tore at her t-shirt. His cold hand meeting her overheated flesh made her boneless and her head lolled onto his shoulder in ecstasy. His other hand flipped her short skirt and his fingers found her. Somehow, Dora found the strength to wrap her legs around his waist and the movement tugged him into her. He moved expertly and, instantly, she felt the spirals of pleasure radiate from her core. She came in seconds and sagged against him exhausted.

  He held her until her pulse slowed. Too satiated to move, she nestled against him, needed his solid male warmth.

  There was a distant thump. It was the outside door to the theatre opening, Mike sprang back, his eyes still dark and dangerous with lust.

  ‘Mike? Are you still here?’

  It was Kirstie. They could hear her moving about in the foyer, sliding the window to the box office to peer inside.

  Kirstie!

  This man meant nothing but trouble. When would she ever learn? Dora mustered all her strength and pushed him off. She straightened her skirt and smoothed down her top, giving him a narrow look. Through thinned lips she hissed, ‘I despise you! Don’t you ever ever touch me again.’

  Mike came back to her. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ He laughed without humour. ‘Not until you ask me again, Dora.’

  Then he turned on his heel and left her.

  Dora let out a long, shuddering breath. She slid from the stage on shaking legs and gathered her things. Shoving her sunglasses onto a sweating nose, she pulled her hat down low and swept past Kirstie and Mike in the foyer. They were bickering about who should lock up.

  ‘And Mike, what have you done to your shirt?’ she heard Kirstie squeal. ‘It’s literally ripped in half.’

  Summoning every vestige of acting skill she possessed, Dora swept past them and trilled, ‘Night darlings.’

  It was only when she was clear of the theatre, and well along the promenade, that she felt tears trickle down from underneath her glasses.

  Chapter 25

  Again, Millie had instructions, but this time they came on a postcard, which accompanied an extravagant bunch of lilies and roses. She arranged them lovingly in a vintage and slightly chipped vase and put them on the café counter.

  ‘Someone’s got it bad,’ was Biddy’s comment. ‘Another date?’

  ‘Yes,’ Millie replied, determined not to let Biddy’s cynicism spoil her mood.

  ‘What you doing this time?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. I’m being collected on Sunday morning.’

  ‘Well, you just be careful. That one’s too smooth for his own good.’

  As Millie waited for Jed to pick her up, she could see how some might think Jed was a bit
too confident, cocky even. Thinking back to the vulnerability he’d revealed when talking about his mother, she was beginning to see chinks in the glossy, well-groomed armour. She thought she rather preferred that Jed.

  He drove her eastwards and Millie wondered if they were heading for the beach again. It was yet another warm day, so a few hours there would be welcome. However, Jed’s latest instructions hadn’t included bringing anything to swim in. She supposed, as it was a private beach, they could go skinny-dipping. Glancing across at Jed’s chino-covered thigh muscles as they bunched when he changed gear, she thought she’d be able to cope.

  When he pulled into the car park of a steel-and-glass hotel, just outside Poole, Millie didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

  He led her into the foyer. ‘Jed Henville and Millie Fudge,’ he announced. ‘Here for the couples’ spa day.’

  Millie watched, amused, as the receptionist blushed at his good looks and gave them directions.

  ‘A spa day,’ she marvelled, as they made their way towards the hotel’s treatment centre.

  ‘Don’t tell me, you’ve never done one.’ He picked up their joined hands and kissed her wrist.

  Millie’s mouth twisted. ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’

  ‘Thought it might be just the thing to iron out some of the strains of your working week.’ He pulled her to him and kissed her and then kneaded her shoulder. ‘Too tense, Millie.’

  Millie didn’t think it appropriate to let him know her tension was coming from the touch of his lips on the sensitive skin of her wrist. ‘Lead on, then,’ was all she managed.

  Two hours later, she lay on a couch in one of the treatment rooms, completely and utterly spent. Her eyelids were so heavy she didn’t bother opening them when she sensed Jed lying down on the neighbouring bed.

  ‘Having a good time?’

  Millie stretched and yawned. ‘Oh my goodness, I feel good. Exhausted, but good.’

  ‘You look it. What have you had so far?’

  Sitting up, she reached for her glass of water and sipped. ‘I couldn’t decide, so I had the lot. A hot-stone massage and a seaweed body scrub.’ Millie lifted a leg experimentally. She was relaxed but strangely weak too. ‘Oh and a mandarin skin-brush treatment. Supposed to get rid of the toxins. What about you?’

  ‘Had a really deep shoulder massage. Broke my collarbone a few years ago skiing and the muscles tighten up every now and again.’

  ‘What next? Lunch? Can we go in robes like this? I’m feeling way too chilled to get dressed.’

  Jed laughed. ‘Yeah. Think that’s allowed. But we’re booked in for some beauty treatments next.’

  ‘Together?’ Millie was faintly shocked. She thought back to the gruesome face packs she and Dora had indulged in as teenagers. She had no desire for Jed to see her with a rock- hard, pea-green face.

  ‘Well, we are on a couples’ spa day.’

  As it was, she needn’t have worried. She was too busy surrendering to bliss to feel embarrassed. One assistant gave her a facial and then a light make-over, while others attended to her feet and hands. She’d never felt so pampered. She was vaguely aware Jed was having something similar, although she hoped it stopped at having his nails painted ruby red.

  They decided to dress for lunch after all and took a table near the restaurant doors, which opened onto a terrace and then a magnificent view of Poole Harbour.

  ‘The weather has been astonishing this year,’ Jed said as he sat down. ‘We could be anywhere on the Med.’

  ‘I’ve never been,’ Millie responded, trying to keep the wistfulness from her voice. For some reason, she was feeling wobbly.

  ‘Well, take it from me, on a day like this Dorset takes some beating.’ As the waiter fussed about with napkins and their starters were served, he added, ‘Would you like to travel sometime?’

  ‘I’d love to.’ Millie drank some water. The treatments had made her thirsty. ‘Trouble is, as I’ve never been anywhere, I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve always wanted to go to Thailand. Old Davey’s granddaughter is there at the moment. She travels all the time. And Dora says Italy is amazing.’ She stared out at the view with narrowed eyes. The sun on the terrace dazzled and she blamed that for the sudden tears. The massages and treatments had wrung her out. She felt teary and a little vulnerable. ‘Dora’s been all over the world with her job, even Tessa’s got as far as India. Everyone’s done so much more than me and I’ve hardly been out of Berecombe. Everyone goes away. Leaves me.’ There was a heavy pause. She gave herself a little shake. ‘I’m so sorry, Jed. It’s really not like me to be maudlin. I’m usually too busy to over-think things.’

  He gave her a concerned look. ‘Sometimes having a massage can get to you like that. You had some pretty intense stuff done. It can get emotional.’ He shrugged. ‘Or it could just be dehydration.’ He topped up her water glass.

  ‘Yeah. Sorry. Food’s delicious, by the way. I love scallops.’

  ‘Good. Sea bass to follow and then chocolate pudding.’ They ate in silence for a while. ‘Is that why you find it hard to trust people, Millie?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Because you feel they all leave you?’

  Millie dropped her fork with a clatter. ‘Do I?’ She replaced it with a shaking hand. Did she really find it so hard to let people in? To trust them?

  Jed reached out a hand and covered hers, quietening it. ‘I think you do. Deep down I think you’re unwilling to really trust. And let’s face it, it is hard. Opening yourself up, letting yourself love. Truly love. Because you run the risk of them hurting you.’

  Millie was silent for a long time. ‘My parents left me, she whispered eventually. ‘I loved them so much. And then one day they weren’t there.’ She stared out to sea again. ‘Mum hadn’t even made the bed. I lay in it on the night of the accident, on the night they died and I could still smell them. When I woke up in the morning I thought I was little again. That I’d had a nightmare and snuggled in with them. Only they weren’t there. They’d never be there ever again.’

  A solitary tear escaped. Jed thumbed it away with a gossamer-light caress. ‘Now I’m the one who should be sorry,’ he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. ‘For asking too many crass questions and spoiling your day.’

  She took a deep breath, coming back to herself. ‘You haven’t, Jed. It has been a lovely day. I feel thoroughly spoiled. I don’t know what came over me. The grief for my parents,’ she shrugged, ‘It’s always going to be there. It just breaks through more forcefully sometimes.’

  ‘And it makes me love you all the more.’ He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist again. Only this time it was a tender gesture, which made Millie’s fractured heart tremble. ‘Would you like to go? Shall I get the bill?’

  ‘Did you say there was chocolate pudding?’ There was a ghost of a smile on her tear-stained face.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Think that decides it, then.’

  Afterwards, she walked back to the car on shaky legs. Jed tucked her in gently, fastening her seatbelt for her. On the journey back she clutched a rug to her like an invalid and watched, unseeing, as the bumpy Dorset countryside sped past her.

  He might, just might, have a point about the trust issue. Maybe it was time to move her life on.

  Chapter 26

  Jed had promised to pick her up at eleven. Millie sat on the low wall that ran along the promenade and peered impatiently at the line of cars cruising for a parking space.

  ‘They’ll be lucky,’ she muttered to Trevor, who was sitting next to her and panting.

  The sun blazed down on another impossibly hot day. The sea front was already rammed with tourists and any spaces had long gone. Crowds bustled past, wafting the scent of factor thirty in their wake.

  A toot of a horn from a familiar grey Golf five cars down had her grinning. It was Jed. She ran to where his car was stuck in the queue, bundled Trevor in the back and then got in the passenger seat.

  ‘Morning. Another gor
geous day. And morning to you too, Trevor,’ Jed added, as the dog licked his ear. He gave Millie a keen look. ‘Feeling better?’

  Millie nodded and concentrated on directing him down some back streets away from the chaos of the sea front. Once they were on the open road they both relaxed.

  ‘I’m so sorry I was late. It’s taken me the best part of an hour to get from Axminster and most of that was trying to get along the front at Berecombe.’

  ‘It’s the lovely weather. Brings all the visitors to town.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘It’s the lovely weather –’ Millie began with a grin.

  ‘Ha ha.’ Jed glanced at a signpost and flipped the indicator. Turning right, he said, ‘Who have you got running the café today?’

  ‘Clare. She’s been wonderful. I probably shouldn’t say this with so much glee, but her dropping out of doing A levels has definitely been my gain.’ Millie took off her straw hat and fanned her hot face. ‘I don’t think her parents approve, but she’s all set to try for catering college. She’s just got to check out what qualifications she needs. I’m hoping she’ll work at the café while studying part-time. For the first time ever I’ve got someone I’m confident about leaving in charge.’

  ‘While you play hookey?’

  ‘While I have a day off!’

  ‘And this the busy season too. Nothing short of scandalous, Emilia.’

  ‘Well, if a good-looking man asks me out I have to accept.’ She saw his cocky grin and added, ‘But as he was busy I had to go out with you instead. Where are we going this time?’

  He grinned. ‘You’ll see, not far. Somewhere away from the crowds.’ He flicked up the air conditioning and the interior of the car filled with blessedly cool air.

  ‘Sounds heaven,’ Millie said and leaned back on the headrest, idly watching as the road narrowed and the Devon hedges closed in on them.

  After another twenty minutes of winding lanes, Jed pulled the Golf into a rough clearing, where only one other car was parked.