Summer Secrets (19 page)

“We’d better skip lunch or we’ll go back like heffalumps,” Clover says, rubbing her stomach and sipping her latte slowly. She likes the idea of coffee more than the actual coffee itself – she thinks it makes her look sophisticated.

At twenty past ten we’re still sitting on a red leather sofa in the lobby, waiting for Ria. Clover is rereading her Matt Munroe notes. She’s getting a little obsessive now – she practically knows them off by heart.

We hear a loud
parp-parp
outside and look through the window. Ria is waving from a sleek grey convertible Mercedes.

Clover grins. “That’s our ride, Beanie.”

I climb into the back and Clover sits beside Ria.

“Sorry I’m late, girls,” Ria says. Her hair is beach-babe blonde and her make-up is perfect. “Betty was a bit clingy this morning. So how was your flight? Good? And the hotel? It’s rather plush, isn’t it? And I hear they gave you a suite. How cool is that?” (She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer to any of her questions before ploughing on.) “Now, Clover, I know you’re a bit of a novice at this interviewing malarkey, but don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ve got plenty of notes, I see” – she nods at Clover’s blue folder – “so you’ll only need a few quotes to bung into the piece and make it interesting for your teen audience … which is just as well, as they’ve cut your interview time down to ten minutes.”

Clover looks aghast. “Ten minutes? But I was promised thirty. I’ll never get all my questions asked in ten minutes.”

Ria smiles at her. “You’ll be fine. Ask the most import-ant ones first and then just keep the questions rolling. They may give you some extra time, if you’re lucky.”

I check out Clover’s face in the rear-view mirror. She’s not happy. She catches my eye and raises her eyebrows. I hope we have time to carry out our carefully hatched plan.

“Here we are,” Ria announces, pulling up outside a huge hotel. “The Coconut Grove Plaza. Uptown Pictures have hired a suite for the interviews. I’ll introduce you to Matt’s people and then I’ll buzz off, if you don’t mind. I have urgent emails coming out of my ears. Everyone wants a piece of me, like yesterday.” She yawns. “I’m utterly wiped.”

The hotel is bright and glossy, and a little bit tacky, with lots of shiny black marble and loads of chrome fittings. There are lamps in the shape of coconut trees, and in the immense lobby, a waterfall splashes from one of the walls. It is lit from underneath by pink lights in the shape of flamingos.

“Tasteful,” Clover says, nudging me in the ribs.

I giggle.

“Clover and Amy, this is Vim Kruger,” Ria says, introducing us to a woman holding a clipboard. “She’s the publicist for Uptown Pictures. I’ll leave you in her capable hands.”

Vim looks scary. Her dark brown bob has a razor-sharp fringe, and she’s wearing a tailored black suit, black fishnet tights and black court shoes.

“Nice to meet you.” She throws out her hand and grasps the tips of Clover’s fingers in a very odd handshake before giving me a funny look and then pretty much ignoring me. She obviously doesn’t think I’m very important. She looks down at her clipboard. “You must be from the London
Times
.”

“No,” Clover says. “
The Goss
magazine.”

Vim squints at her clipboard, runs a long pointy red nail down the list and then stops. “Found you.” She puts a neat tick beside both our names. “If you’ll just take a seat in the restaurant” – she nods towards a door to the right – “I’ll call you in about twenty minutes. Matt’s with the
Chicago People
at the moment, followed by
Movie Emporium
; then you’ll be up.” She tilts her head at Clover, ignoring me again. “OK?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Clover says calmly, as if she does movie-star interviews every day of her life.

We sit down in the restaurant and look around. There are dozens of men and women barking into mobiles, tapping on laptops and playing with BlackBerrys. They all look ultra busy and organized.

Clover starts to look nervous. “I’m way out of my depth here, Beanie. What was I thinking? I can’t do this.” She makes as if to get up.

I push her down with my arm. “You’ll be fine. You have all your questions prepared and I bet half of these people have never even watched a Matt Munroe film. They’re far too old. Matt is going to love your questions. And besides, there’s no way anyone else knows about the Irish connection.”

Over breakfast earlier, we went over our plan. Kit had called into Haven House just before we left for the airport to say he’d remembered where he’d seen Matt Munroe before. I haven’t said anything to Mills yet, just in case Kit has it wrong – but if he is right, our information is Hollywood dynamite.

“I’m not sure I’ll go there, Beanie. I think I’ll just play it straight. I don’t want to get thrown out or anything,” Clover says nervously. “There must be a reason why he doesn’t talk about his Irish background.”

“Don’t you dare chicken out! It’s breaking news, Clover. Saffy will be so impressed. You have to be brave – what’s the worst that can happen?”

“
She
might just kill me with her razor talons.” Clover points at Vim, who is tottering towards us.

“You’re up,
Goss
,” she says. “
Movie Emporium
are late. They’ll have to slot in after you.”

We follow Vim into a lift at the side of the lobby; she operates the controls with a key. “Now, remember, ten minutes, OK?” she says. “His agent will be in there with him. And you’ve studied the list of recommended questions, yes?”

The lift door pings open and she hustles us out. “The Flamingo Suite. Knock once and then wait.”

The lift door pings closed again and she’s gone.

“Recommended questions?” Clover looks at me, baffled.

I shrug.

As we head down the corridor, a door at the end opens and a middle-aged man in a cream linen suit walks out. He’s stuffing a Dictaphone into his briefcase. “You here for Matt?” he asks us.

We nod.

“Good luck. You won’t get much past his agent. Pity – Matt seems nice.”

Clover grabs my arm. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll be with you, Clover. And I think we should play up our Irishness. Complete with your five-year-old’s grasp of Irish. See if Matt bites. Agreed?”

“Great idea, Beanie. But we only have ten minutes, remember.”

I push Clover though the door. And there he is, standing in the hallway of the suite, ready to greet us – Matt Munroe, in person! I instantly go pink and completely forget our plan. Mills was right; he’s even better-looking in real life. I want to reach out and touch his tanned cheek, but I stop myself. He smells gorgeous too – a fresh citrus smell, like lemons.

Clover’s gawking at him as well. So much for her professionalism.

“Top o’ the morning to you,” I say, talking control. “I’m Amy and this is Clover. We’re friends of Mills’s, and are here on behalf of
The Goss
. It’s an Irish magazine. To be sure, to be sure.” (I’m laying the plastic Paddy act on pretty thick.)

He looks a little taken aback but recovers quickly and says, “Hey, Amy! Great to meet ya.” He grins and kisses my cheek. “Mills has told me all about you. Best buds, right?” When I get over the shock, I realize Matt Munroe has just kissed me. I know it’s only on the cheek but my knees buckle and I almost keel over. Luckily, Clover rights me.

“Clover,” she says, propping me up. “Another close friend of Mills’s.” She steps forward, twisting her head a little, obviously waiting for her kiss. He obliges.

Despite almost demanding her kiss, Clover is as taken aback as me. We both stand there, speechless. There’s an open door to the right through which I spot a king-size bed and I’m instantly undone. I blush even more furiously. Then Clover notices it too and
her
cheeks start flaming. We’re like a pair of lobsters.

“Who’s up next?” a deep American voice calls from the bedroom.

“That’s Gabe,” Matt explains. “My agent. Let’s see if I can get rid of him and kick back a bit. I do love the Irish brogue.” He winks at me, his famous green eyes twinkling, and I melt. He doesn’t seem to notice. Or else, like Clover, he’s immune to adoration from the opposite sex. Maybe he thinks all girls are practically mute and have glowing pink cheeks.

“I wonder what it’s like to be that good-looking?” Clover whispers as Matt talks to his agent, a tall, olive-skinned man in a black polo shirt and beige trousers.

“We’ll never know,” I say with a shrug.

“Speak for yourself.” Clover grins.

“Ladies,” Gabe says, walking towards us. “You’re friends of the Costigans, I believe. Great couple; really know their stuff. Still – no tricky questions, y’hear?” He grins before adding, “You got the list, right?”

“Of course,” Clover says smoothly. “We’ll be sticking to it rigidly.”

“Great, great.” He runs his hand over his bald head. Then he turns to Matt. “I have a couple of calls to make. Back in ten, OK?”

“Can we make it longer?” Matt asks. “They’ve travelled all the way from Ireland.” (He pronounces it
Eye-are-land
.)

“Ireland?” Gabe asks, looking at Matt nervously.

Clover nods. “A wee teen mag called
The Goss
, full of
ceol agus craic
and a wee smattering of shiny celebs. Our Irish colleens just love Matt.” Clover is layering on the Irish blarney pretty thick.

Gabe smiles. “I’ll talk to Vim about getting you some exclusive stills.” He’s obviously decided we’re harmless.

“Now you’re sucking diesel,” Clover says with a wink.

Gabe laughs. “I have no idea what you’re saying, but I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as he’s gone, Matt leads us to some swish leather armchairs and we sit down. “Can I get you guys a drink?” he asks politely, hovering behind Clover’s chair.

“No, we’re fine, thanks,” Clover says. Her folder is open on her knees and she’s setting up the Dictaphone on the coffee table in front of her.

“How’s Mills?” he asks. “Things have been kinda hectic. We haven’t been over for a few days. But it’s tough keeping Ed away.” He beams.

“Ah,” Clover says. “Thought so. Your friend has a bit of a crush, does he?”

Matt just keeps smiling. “I couldn’t possibly say.”

“And what do you think of Irish girls yourself?” Clover asks. “Our readers are dying to know.”

Matt laughs. “You cut to the chase, don’t ya? If Gabe was here he’d tell me not to answer that one. It might annoy fans in other countries. The official line is that I like girls of all nationalities, and no, I’m not seeing anyone special right now. I’m waiting for the right girl to come along. And you’re supposed to be asking me about
Just Add Water
.”

“Look,” says Clover, “I’ll come clean. I never got the recommended questions Vim and Gabe were talking about, so you’re going to have to help me out here. I only have my own questions.”

Matt sits down. “What kind of questions?”

She takes a deep breath. “When did you leave Ireland? Why did you change your name?”

Chapter 32

“What?”
Matt’s face is ashen and his hands are shaking. “I think we’d better take this off the record.” He points at the Dictaphone.

Clover reaches over and clicks it off. “Do you remember Kit Harper? From Lough Ine village in West Cork?”

Matt’s eyes flicker for a second, but then he says, “No, sorry. Never heard of him. Or is it a her?”

“He remembers you,
Sean
,” I say.

“What? Why did you call me that?” Matt’s eyes flash and he sits up bolt straight.

“Because it’s your real name. Kit said the hair and the teeth have changed, but that he’d recognize those eyes anywhere.”

Matt drops his eyes to the floor and shifts around on his chair uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, you’ve made a mistake. I’ve never even been to Ireland.”

I try one last time. “Strange, because Kit could have sworn it was you. He sends his regards. You used to help his mum, May, in the garden at Haven House. He does her job now. Lives on the island too.”

Matt looks confused. “On his own? What about his family?”

“I’m afraid his mum died a few years ago in a boating accident. Apparently he didn’t take it very well.”

Matt gasps. “May’s dead?”

Finally, a proper reaction! But I’m not surprised – if Matt and May were as close as Kit said they were, it must be very sad news. “Yes,” I say gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Matt looks genuinely distraught. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. Lying to you like that. Ach, I’ll come clean with you, girls,” he says, his perfect Miami accent melting away. He has a beautiful Cork singsong lilt, tinged with Miami smoothness. “Frankly, it’ll be a relief to finally talk about it. May was an amazing woman. Poor Kit; he adored her. How’s he doing?”

“OK, I think. He seems to like working in the garden.”

“Good. Tell him I was asking after him and that I’m sorry. May was very good to me. Kept me in pocket money for years.” He sighs, blowing air out noisily, then leans back in his seat and stares off into space. “I told Gabe it was only a matter of time. People aren’t stupid. Especially Cork people. And Mum hates all the lies. It was Gabe’s idea. He said if I didn’t go along with it I’d have the shortest movie career in the history of Hollywood.”