The Way to a Woman's Heart (32 page)

Poll looked blank. ‘What? Oh, yes, of course… um… well, there’s my bedroom.’

‘En suite, I trust.’

‘Well, there’s a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.’

‘Really? Oh well, I suppose it’ll have to do. Clean bedlinen?’

‘What?’ Poll looked helplessly at Ella. ‘Oh, I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting…’

‘Fresh on this morning,’ Ella lied cheerfully.

Gabby nodded. ‘Good. And floor-length mirrors?’

Poll coped with this one. ‘Er, yes.’

Gabby flicked flinty eyes towards the crowd of followers. ‘Find the bedroom. Check for dust. Set up the extractor and the diffuser. I’ll have the lilies, the Evian, the rice cakes and the sushi. Get the rest of the usual stuff laid out. Bedroom and bathroom. Clean both rooms if necessary. Then I’ll have the two Alexander McQueens – the blue and the red – oh, and the gold Stella McCartney. I’ll decide later. And the Louboutins. All of them.’

Several more of the followers peeled off and, after whispered directions from Poll, disappeared.

‘Next,’ Gabby said, ‘let’s make this clear – Tom and I are consummate professionals. We never, ever use an autocue.
You’re simply amateurs of course, but you won’t have an autocue either. I know you’ll have been told how we want you to behave but I need to reiterate. Act just as if we’re not here and the camera isn’t there, and there are no viewers. Naturally. Talk to us only when spoken to. Do not look at the camera. Never, ever look at the camera. Do not look at the monitor screens. Listen to directions, and obey if necessary. And do
not
swear. Ever. If things go wrong then grin and bear it and put it right as damn quickly as possible.’

‘We had a team in one heat,’ Tom said, smiling happily, ‘who lost the plot completely and used the most amazingly bad language. Enough to make a docker blush, it was. We zapped away from them quickly, but not quickly enough and –’

Again, he was quelled with a Look.

Gabby then turned to Ash and flicked her tongue over her glossy lips.

Dear God, Ella thought, she’s going to eat him alive… Mind you, he did look particularly delectable in his black jeans and a pale-blue Ben Sherman shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbow.

‘Now you –’ Gabby did the lip-licking again and purred ‘– are
exactly
what we need. The camera will l-o-v-e you. Not to mention the viewers. We’ll have to feature you a lot. The majority of our viewers are women, which means, if you get through to the next round, when it comes to the public vote you should do v-e-r-y well.’

‘Thanks, but isn’t that a bit sexist?’ Ash said. ‘Surely –’

‘Sexist, yes. Top viewing figures, definitely. I only care about the latter. Now, your menu…’

Poll stepped forward. ‘Ah, yes, now, we’re doing a proper farmhouse meal and –’

‘Please, no interruptions.’ Gabby frowned. Or tried to. ‘I’ve read your menu. I don’t need to go through it again. I just need to know that you haven’t deviated.’

Ella and Ash giggled together.

‘No deviations? Good. And your equipment is ready? Your food is all here? Nothing missing? And you’ve got your Gabby’s Secret Ingredient ready for me to find reasonably easily?’

‘Oh, yes!’ Poll said with enthusiasm. ‘We’ve got –’

‘Don’t tell me!’ Gabby shrieked. ‘I have to use my expertise, you know. And the viewers always love watching me rooting through your fridge and freezer and cupboards and discovering your murkiest cookery secrets. Everyone is a voyeur at heart, don’t you agree?’

Ella bit her lip.

‘OK.’ Gabby tapped a tiny foot. ‘So, you can assure me that nothing last minute can possibly go wrong, can it?’

‘Yes, love,’ Billy said comfortingly. ‘And no, love. Yes, we can assure you and no, nothing at all will go wrong. Everything’s ready. We’re all shipshape and Bristol fashion. And we’re all primed and raring to go.’

Billy was treated to a Look. Then Gabby screamed and pointed. ‘A child! There’s a child!’

Ella turned just as Trixie and George sauntered in through the back door.

‘Lose the child!’ Gabby instructed a minion. ‘And the old lady!’

‘I’m no old lady,’ Trixie huffed indignantly. ‘I’m probably around your age, and I do have a name.’

Ella held her breath.

‘My name is Gossamer Snapdragon.’

Ella whimpered and didn’t dare look at Poll or Ash.

‘And,’ Trixie continued, ‘young George lives here and I’ll thank you not to yell at him in his own home. I know tonight when you’re doing the filluming to keep him well out of the way, but he’s naturally curious and he isn’t doing anyone any harm at the moment, is he? So you, madam, you keep a civil tongue in your head in front of the youngster, please.’

Tom sniggered and turned it rapidly into a cough. The crew all paled.

Gabby had two bright spots of colour on her cheeks. She looked like Aunt Sally. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Snapdragon, but this is my show. I do not like children or animals or –’ she narrowed her feline eyes at Trixie ‘– old ladies who aren’t cooking on my set. It should have been made clear from the outset.’

‘And it was.’ Billy stepped bravely into the fray as George ran to be cuddled by Poll. ‘Only they only mentioned the filming, see? They didn’t say young Georgie or, um, Trixie couldn’t be around beforehand. And, no harm done – so leave the lad alone, OK?’

‘That’s us out of the competition,’ Ash hissed to Ella. ‘Buggered before we even get to first base.’

Surprisingly, Gabby suddenly laughed. It was very shrill, and a bit tinny and discordant, but it was definitely a laugh.

‘Oh, I do love you rustic characters who call a spade a digging thing with a handle. Give me an outspoken
character
any day over the sycophantic PC brigade. OK, I’m sorry, I may have overreacted a little, but the kiddie ban still holds good. And you –’ Gabby fixed an indulgent smile on Trixie ‘– Mrs Snapdragon or whatever your name is, you can keep out of my way, too.’

‘Pleasure.’ Trixie sniffed, gathering her floral polyester frock more closely to her plump thighs and stomping out of the kitchen.

‘Phew,’ Ash hissed. ‘That was a close one.’

‘Mmm.’ Ella watched Trixie’s swaying rear end as she continued to stomp out of sight. ‘But I’m still worried about her. I think she’s got something up her sleeve.’

‘Probably just a hankie,’ Ash said reassuringly. ‘My nan always has hankies up her sleeve.’

‘So does mine, but you know very well that wasn’t what I meant.’

Gabby interrupted this conversation by clapping her hands. ‘Right, I’m happy that everything here is as good as it’s going to be. I’m now going to have my rest and then get bathed and changed. I do
not
want to be disturbed. Not for fire, flood or any other disaster. I rest – you deal with it. Understood?’

Everyone nodded.

‘Good. Tom –’ she cast a withering glance at her husband. ‘– will hopefully cope with any other questions. I shall return,
ready to go live on air dead on eight o’clock, at seven-thirty. By that time, you –’ she turned the withering glance on the rest of them ‘– will have everything – and I do mean everything – you need laid out ready to go. Your oven will be on – never mind the heat – your utensils will be to hand, your ingredients will be there, laid out on your work station, for the viewers to see. There must be no fumbling or bumbling or searching for things. If you haven’t got it you do without it. Understood?’

They all nodded again.

The producer and director waited until, followed by the remains of the entourage, Gabby had swept out of the kitchen. Then they let out a collective sigh of relief and looked at Tom.

‘Fancy a cold beer from the chuck wagon, Tom? And a sarnie or two? There’s a very nice garden out the back. I think we all need a bit of R & R.’

‘Er, does that include us?’ Poll, still cuddling a wide-eyed George, asked shakily. ‘I’m feeling a bit strange. I couldn’t eat a thing but I’m absolutely parched.’

‘No beer.’ Tom smiled warmly at them. ‘Sorry. Can’t risk any of you being pie-eyed. That’s a cookery joke, by the way… But iced drinks, yes. And an hour of relaxing before we hit the ground running. We’ll all need to come inside and have our hair and make-up retouched before the final countdown, but in the meantime, let’s just chill out and enjoy ourselves.’

Was he completely mad? Ella thought. Relax? Chill out? Enjoy? When she was already gibbering with stomach-churning nerves? When Billy had sunk into a sort of
terrified torpor? When Ash had suddenly stopped smiling and looked like he was about to have anaesthetic-free root canal work? And Poll…

She frowned. Poll was nowhere to be seen.

She nudged Ash. ‘Where’s Poll?’

‘She’s gone to be sick,’ Ash muttered. ‘And I think I might just be going to join her.’

At 7.30 precisely, Gabby swept into the kitchen again. All dressed in gold, her curls teased and burnished, teetering on her Louboutins, and with more make-up than a drag queen, she gazed around.

Hideaway’s kitchen was completely transformed.

The lights blazed from every angle. The cameras were poised. The monitors were rolling. The crew were in position. Everything the Hideaway contingent could possibly need to produce their best ever three-course meal had been placed artistically by the runner boy on the vast scrubbed kitchen table. Fans whirred everywhere, attempting to reduce the rapidly rising temperature.

Gabby, ignoring Tom, flicked at things here and moved things infinitesimally there. Then she nodded. ‘Good. Very good. Right, let’s get a move on here.’

Oooh, Lordy… Ella, who, with Billy, had earlier joined Tom and the crew in the garden, felt hot, sweaty, dizzy and
very, very frightened. Tom, smiling benignly over his iced beer, had regaled them all with horror stories of what could – and probably would – go wrong during a live television show.

But, Ella thought now, he’d seemed like a genuinely nice man. Warm, gentle and funny – not at all starry. And not once had he mentioned Gabby or their seemingly caustic relationship. And he’d only had the minimum amount of powdering and fussing from the slap and hair girls. And, even more to his credit, he’d chatted with them as equals and friends. She wondered where the heck Ash and Poll were.

Gabby clapped her tiny hands. Diamonds glittered, showering rainbow prisms across the kitchen. ‘Come on! Let’s get mic’d up then and have the sound checks.’

Getting mic’d up apparently involved the sound man clipping microphones to their necklines and threading wires down inside their tops, and attaching more wires and a little black pack to the back of their waistbands. And all the time, apologising and laughing, he’d told them that come eight o’clock, every single word would be broadcast to the nation and therefore to remember at all times not to say anything they didn’t want the viewing public to hear.

‘Sorry.’ Ash appeared in the doorway. ‘Am I late?’

‘Not at all, sweetie,’ Gabby gushed, fluttering her gull’s wing eyelashes. ‘Just in time for sound – oh, would you like me to fix your mic for you?’

‘Say no,’ Ella advised softly. ‘Unless you
want
to be pawed to death by her, of course.’

Ash chuckled as the sound engineer wriggled the wires
down his Ben Sherman. ‘No thanks, Mrs Dewberry. I do appreciate the offer, of course.’

‘Gabby to you, sweetie.’ The eyelashes batted again. ‘And if you change your mind at anytime, sweetie, just say the word… Now, are we all here and all mic’d-up? Oh, where’s Polly?’

‘It’s Poll – and I’m here.’ Poll drifted into the kitchen, looking far more serene than she had all day. ‘I’m sorry, too. I was explaining things to my son and making sure that Trixie keeps him out of the way. Are we all ready to go?’

‘Has she been drinking?’ Ash whispered to Ella as Poll happily submitted to be wired up. ‘Or is she on Diazepam?’

‘Probably both,’ Ella whispered back, indicating the microphones, ‘and I don’t think we should say that in case we can be heard.’

‘Ooops, forgot.’ Ash grinned. ‘God, it’s hot in here.’

‘Boiling. Where did you go?’

‘Just to check on Poll, but she was with Trixie and said she was fine, then to make sure Roy was OK, then I phoned Onyx.’

‘And?’