Follow a Star (27 page)

Cecil scratched his head. ‘This
is
Little Spitmarsh, May, not South Kensington. There isn’t actually much of a demand for Fabergé eggs and Ming vases. I’m sure your mother won’t ruin me while I take the boat for a sail. Why don’t you come to the shop, dear lady, so we can have a chat about it?’

‘There,’ said Cathy triumphantly.

‘But Mum, you and Dad are only passing through,’ May reminded her.

‘Oh we’re not in any hurry,’ Cathy assured her, looking shifty. ‘We haven’t had a window of opportunity like this in years. Besides, you’re here aren’t you? And we want to see more of you.’

Cathy was so rarely demonstrative that the hug that followed was completely unexpected. Giving her mother’s rather stiff frame a squeeze in return, May breathed in a nostalgic blend of white musk perfume laced with stale cigarettes.

‘I’m packing them in,’ said Cathy ruefully, seeing her face. ‘I’m making a fresh start, May. I’m intent on turning over a lot of new leaves, beginning with tobacco.’

‘Splendid,’ said Cecil. ‘I don’t want you coughing over my valuable junk, I mean, antiques, now, do I?’

Before May could think of another reason to sabotage the arrangement, they were joined by Thunder, who had been to take another look round
Maid of Mersea
.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Cathy murmured, going a bit pink. ‘It’s—’

‘Maurice Cledwyn,’ said Thunder, sticking out his hand. ‘And this is my sister, Janice. I’ve come to show her round.’

‘What did you think of the boat?’ May asked politely.

Janice, who Marks and Spencer could snap up as a double for Twiggy if they needed an older model in a hurry, gave them a broad smile. ‘She’s a bit different to
Valhalla
, not quite what I was expecting!’

‘Aw, she just needs some loving, like all of us,’ Thunder said, affecting hurt.

‘But what have we got here?’ Janice said, stepping forwards to take a closer look at
Lucille
. ‘Now this is
lovely
. Very pretty!’

Well, Cecil would be pleased with the compliment, thought May, casting a look at him to see how he was taking it. But Cecil seemed to have forgotten all about
Lucille
and was craftily eyeing Janice instead.

‘Ding-dong!’ he said, sounding very chipper.

Bill could probably have driven back to Little Spitmarsh after surveying a fragile old wattle and daub building deep in the countryside, but it would have made a long day and there was no reason to hurry back. In just two days since May’s unwelcome revelation, he’d had a bollocking from Matthew for walking out of his fundraising event, and one from Harry for walking out on May. Cecil was acting like a born again teenager. If he wasn’t burning up to the speed limit round the country lanes in his Jaguar, he was surfing the internet ordering new gear and gizmos for
Lucille
. He’d also made it quite clear he didn’t want anyone fussing around him. As for everyone’s favourite pop star? Why would she want to hang around with a ginger builder when she, like Cecil, had rediscovered her mojo?

The house he’d surveyed stood on the outskirts of a picturesque market town where, on impulse, he booked himself in to the White Hart, another historic timber-framed building – arguably in better shape than the one he’d just left, depending on personal taste.

After a pint and a steak pie with chips in the restaurant, where he’d sat staring blankly at a large copper bed warmer on the wall, trying not to think about the space in his own bed, some of the emptiness inside had been filled. A quick tour of the town, noting that the prices in the antiques shops were far cheekier here than Cecil could have got away with, then a quiet read of a new political thriller he’d downloaded ought to ensure that he could drift untroubled to sleep.

Bill kicked his shoes off and stretched out on his lonely king-sized reproduction four-poster bed intending to catch the news headlines and inadvertently caught the end of some celebrity news round-up. Before he could press the controls to turn it off again, his hand was stayed by a horribly familiar song.

‘Chillin’ in the park

Just you and me

Having fun in the sun

You’re the one for me

Inspiration

Jubilation

Don’t leave me in isolation …’

Sodding Cherry and ‘Chillin’ In the Park’. How May must have laughed to herself when he’d pushed his dad’s guitar on her thinking he was giving her a hand with her career. And what had she made of his little lecture about self-belief? As for the woman whose body had been so hot and yielding under his hands, had that really been because of him or was that another role she’d been playing at too? ‘
Don’t leave me in isolation, looks like love’s our destination.
’

Repeat and fade to a happy end, he guessed, but not one that included him.

Whilst ‘Chillin’’ played in the background, reporters were pressing mics in the face of the couple who were on the red carpet for some music awards he’d never heard of. The tall, pink-haired female half of the couple was looking decidedly hacked off since everyone seemed to be more interested in the short dark-haired guy accompanying her, rather than her revealing pink lace frock.

‘Tell us about the secret gig,’ someone was yelling, ‘Does this mean we’re going to see more of your biggest star?’

Never mind the big star, thought Bill. He wouldn’t mind seeing more of the lady in the lace dress. The short guy was obstructing what promised to be a great view, so it was even more disappointing when the cameras went in for a close up on the guy.

‘Hey, what can I say?’ he said, looking straight into the lens with a cocky grin.

Arrogant twat, thought Bill.

‘It’s very early days,’ he drawled, baiting the reporters with a hint of knowledge withheld. ‘As you know, Cherry’s had a few issues recently …’

Cherry!
Instantly, Bill sat up and turned up the volume.

The reporters pressed closer with a flurry of questions. The short guy raised a hand until there was silence again. He flashed a mocking smile before resuming his love affair with the lens.

‘I’ve been keeping a close eye on her during her, er, her break to make sure she’s been getting all the help she needs. I’m sure you can imagine what a difficult time it’s been for everyone who cares about her, so it was a great relief to all of us that she coped so well with a carefully selected audience in an intimate setting. All I can really say is that the signs are looking good for her complete recovery.’

What a tosser! Bill resisted the urge to kick the telly. Implying she’d been in rehab. How was that supposed to help her career?

The cameras turned to the woman in the lace frock who, on closer inspection, wasn’t half as attractive as Bill had first supposed, and nowhere near as lovely as May.

‘Molly, you and Cherry are both signed to Pink Lix Records. The friendly rivalry between the pair of you is well known, but I’m sure you’re delighted to hear your stablemate is on the mend. Is there any message you’d like to give her?’

‘Yah,’ the woman said in a cut-glass accent and with a smile that didn’t reach her cold eyes. ‘Take all the time you need to recover, babes.’ She tossed back her pink hair. ‘Don’t rush back, will you?’

‘Aiden? What about you?’

Aiden!
That slippery, obnoxious, smarmy bastard was Aiden! Bill forced himself to stay calm before he burst a blood vessel. Besides, he wanted to hear what the man he’d come to detest had to say.

‘Ah no, you don’t catch me that way,’ he chuckled into the camera. ‘I don’t need to use the media to send a message to Cherry, nor she me; we understand each other.’

After casting a last brooding smile into the camera, he turned his attention back to the woman he was, presumably, partnering. Instead of slapping his face, she meekly allowed him to grab her hand as they posed together in a blaze of flashing lights.

‘That was Aiden Cavanagh, music mogul and founder of Pink Lix Records,’ the newsreader said, back in the studio, ‘talking about a possible comeback for Cherry.’ The newsreader smiled at her male co-presenter. ‘I wasn’t sure Molly Gordon looked altogether pleased, did she? Still, there could be some exciting rivalry ahead if she and Cherry both have albums out at the same time.’

Bill turned off the TV and stared at the blank screen. So that was the man who exerted so much power over May. Why any woman in her right mind would fall for such an oleaginous little git, spouting utter bollocks – albeit in a very smooth accent – he failed to understand. Nor did he have to; the woman he thought he’d known didn’t exist. So if Aiden was coming back for another bite of the Cherry that was fine by him.

Rick gave a strangled roar at the sight of Aiden flaunting his new squeeze on the telly, giving Cathy time to hit the button on the remote control before they added a wrecked TV to their debts. Especially one in such a posh room. With the camper van immobilised in the boatyard whilst they waited for the parts to turn up, Cathy quickly decided that the reality of life on the road was far less romantic than the idea of it. May had come up trumps and booked them in to Walton House, a stunning boutique hotel. Cathy did feel bad about May spending her money on them. Even though she seemed to be on very friendly terms with the owners, she suspected the ‘mates rates’ were still far more than she and Rick could afford.

Nevertheless, Cathy was enjoying herself again. After a successful introduction by Cecil to his shop, he’d been happy to leave her in charge whilst he made up for lost time pottering about in his boat. Antiques, she was surprised to find, with their individual stories and history, were inherently fascinating to her, unlike the wishy-washy new-age trinkets with their false promises that made her feel like a charlatan for selling them. There was far more meaning in the carefully wrought stitches of a simple sampler sewn by some long-dead hand than any of her crystals or temple bells.

‘So have you told May to tell that little prick to get stuffed and forget about the shop?’ Rick asked, buckling his jeans.

Cathy pulled a face in the dressing table mirror. Trust Rick to drop a clanger and disrupt her sense of contentment. ‘With May being in the news I’m surprised he hasn’t scurried up here by now demanding his pound of flesh. Although he appears to have his hands full with that Molly Gordon. She looks as if she’d give him a run for his money – especially once she sees May’s face all over the press.’

‘He might have to be a bit more careful with that one,’ Rick growled, ‘with daddy being an MP.’

Cathy squinted at the eyeliner on one lid, then started on the next. ‘May’s doing all right, isn’t she?’

She leaned back, surveying her reflection and caught her husband’s troubled gaze.

‘I bloody well hope so,’ Rick said, scowling.

Cathy pursed her lips together, struggling to control her emotions. She, of all people, should have seen Aiden’s controlling behaviour for what it was: abuse that had stripped her daughter of her strength and confidence. Her neglect of her own child was shameful and still made her squirm when she looked into her heart, but maybe now she had the chance to put the past to rest.

Rick looked unhappy, but she hoped that picking up an unexpected job would help to take his mind off things. The scrappy little woman who ran Watling’s was, as it turned out, married to a property developer who, on hearing that Rick was a roofer, had offered him a few days’ work on an old chapel.

‘May’s not right, though, whatever you say,’ Rick insisted. ‘You only have to take a close look at her to see that something’s eating away at her.’

Sometimes her husband was more perceptive than she gave him credit for, she admitted to herself. If it hadn’t been for a rather interesting conversation she’d had with Cecil Blythe, she would have been more concerned, but now the future was looking rosier for all of them. Somehow the Starling family was going to emerge from this crisis stronger and closer than ever.

‘Yeah, but it’s not what you think,’ she reassured him. ‘It’s nothing to do with Aiden Cavanagh, believe me.’

She turned round and got up to kiss her husband. ‘I promise you, May’s going to be more than all right. Wait and see.’

Rick stiffened and held her away. ‘Cath? What have you done now?’

‘Me?’ she complained. ‘I haven’t done anything. All I’m doing is minding a shop.’

The same evening, a couple of miles slightly further inland, Fiona felt it was well worth taking a small hit on the cost of accommodating May’s parents since they were now in her debt. If May hadn’t mentioned the sixteenth-century farmhouse her beau had just completed, she and Paul wouldn’t be having this sneaky preview before it went on the market. Despite Thunder’s generous offer for Walton House, there wouldn’t be a lot of money to play with once they had paid off their debts, and now there was a baby to consider. Maybe they could come to a deal with the vendor which excluded the estate agents’ fee? Fiona tried not to get too excited; it was important this was a joint decision.

They crossed the hallway into the first reception room where the evening sunlight slanting through the windows caught the expressions flickering across her husband’s face.

‘This is great, isn’t it?’ he said,

‘It’s lovely. And so beautifully restored,’ she agreed. ‘But can we afford it?’ she asked, aware that there would be other pressures too when he went freelance.

‘Let’s see what the rest of it’s like first.’

They reached the family bathroom and the house just kept getting better.

‘I like that big bath,’ said Paul, pulling her close. ‘It’s big enough for two … or even two and half.’

‘Well if we do buy it we’d better make the most of it before we become three,’ she smiled, feeling tears pricking her eyes because it felt so good to have her husband all to herself again.

Paul frowned. ‘It’s a great house, better than I dared hope we’d find, but are you sure you’re ready to leave Walton House?’

‘I’m more than ready,’ she said firmly.

‘It would mean we could stay close to Little Spitmarsh,’ he said, clearly thinking aloud. ‘Only this time, we’d have more time for each other, and the baby – and some money to play with too.’

Paul wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. ‘There’s just one more thing I haven’t told you.’

Fiona felt herself tense. ‘Oh Paul, haven’t we both learned that keeping secrets doesn’t work?’

‘Hush,’ he said, into her hair. ‘This is one I’ve been saving. Call me selfish, but I’ve missed you. I was fed up with sharing you with other people, even before we got the chance to sell up, so I was determined to do something about it. I’ve been putting some money aside, which is why we’ve been particularly stretched lately.’

Another mystery solved.

‘I wanted to surprise you – I’ve booked us a holiday, two weeks in the sun. Time to catch up before the move and before the baby comes … What do you think?’

She pulled away and swallowed hard. To think, she had been guilty of fantasising about another man that time, when Aiden Cavanagh’s seductive voice down a telephone line had suggested all kinds of adventures. And what a horrid little man he’d turned out to be. At least he seemed to have disappeared, leaving May in peace – something about Fiona’s glimpse into their relationship had really bothered her. She’d been glad when May had confided she was moving on with the builder guy, so it was an awful pity to hear that their budding relationship had been crushed by the revelation of May’s alter ego, Cherry, coming to light. But as Fiona reminded her, a truth that draws a tear is better than a lie that draws a smile. She nodded to herself; what May needed most was some time out in a place where she wouldn’t be bothered. And if Aiden Cavanagh tried showing his face at Walton House again, he’d quickly find there were no vacancies.

‘I think,’ she said, lacing her arms around her husband’s neck, ‘that I’m a very lucky woman.’

Outside, they were about to close the door when Paul surprised her by scooping her up and carrying her over the threshold. ‘We’re in agreement then, Mrs Goodwin. You are a lucky woman and I’m a very happy man. Welcome to your new home.’