me.
‘Look, Kate, no offence,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘But that Matt Martell’s a total wanker. He flirts with everyone, but you know he’s going out with Ailsa
Logan, right?’
‘Ailsa Logan?’ I echoed. This must be a mistake.
‘Yeah,’ said Danny, appearing at my other shoulder. ‘Ailsa Logan off
Rise & Shine
. That fit TV bird.’
‘Are you sure?’ I said. ‘He said he didn’t have a girlfriend.’
The two cameramen exchanged a glance.
Chris scoffed. ‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? But I saw pictures of them together at the British Television Awards just last week. It was in the paper on the plane over.’
I felt my cheeks flame with anger. As the queen of location flings, I should have recognized a kindred spirit. What happens on location stays on location, right? But a girl has to have
standards. I’d never knowingly slept with someone who was in a relationship, and I wasn’t about to start now.
Over at the bar Matt had worked his way to the front, his broad shoulders forcing a space in the crowd. He turned to look over his shoulder at me. When he saw that I was flanked by two burly
cameramen, he looked puzzled and raised a hand in a hesitant half wave.
‘The nerve of him,’ said Danny, linking his arm with mine.
‘That bastard,’ said Chris, taking my other arm.
I couldn’t disagree.
And I let them lead me away from Matt Martell and straight into a welcoming vat of appalling Nigerian whisky.
7
I can’t deny that I am intrigued to meet the mysterious Ben. Although I suppose he’s only mysterious to me, since Mum and Dad must have met him plenty of times.
It’s the first time a boyfriend of Prue’s has taken an interest in the business, and for my parents to have allowed him to get involved they must think it’s a serious
relationship. They’ve been running the business ever since Dad gave up being a roadie when Prue was born; I don’t think she understands that they’d already lived a big life by the
time they came to Lyme. Their ambitions for excitement had been fulfilled by years of travelling and hanging out with rock stars. They moved to Dorset for the quiet life. I guess I got a little
taste of the travel and glamour – I was six by the time we moved here, when they were looking for schools and stability. Prue, on the other hand, has known nothing but the quiet life, so she
can’t help but try to push Baileys’ into the limelight all the time.
The back door is still open and I can hear noises from next door’s garden; Eddy’s granny must be up too. I’m wary of calling to her over the garden fence, since I have no wish
to see her topple backwards off a ladder again. But the noises in the garden sound high-pitched, excited, not the usual mild chatter of an old lady talking to herself. I pour hot water into the
cafetière and leave it to sit while I step outside.
‘No,
you’re
the nasty queen and
I
am the princess,’ declares a voice that very definitely does not belong to Mrs Curtis.
‘I don’t
want
to be the nasty queen, I am going to be the prince who is going to save the princess,’ someone else answers.
‘You can’t be a
prince
, stupid, you’re a
girl
.’
‘Then I’m going to be a
princess
who saves the princess.’
‘It doesn’t work like that, the princess has to be saved by a
prince
.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says everyone, actually, and anyway I don’t want to be saved by you – I’m the oldest.’
‘Girls?’ says a man’s voice from inside next door. Eddy’s, I realize.
‘Daddy,’ the younger voice pleads. ‘Daddy, we can both be princesses, can’t we?’
I hear Eddy step out into the garden.
‘You’re both my princesses, Grace, course you are,’ he says, affectionate but dismissive, not realizing the sisterly argument at stake.
How strange that Eddy should have children. Proper school-aged children, not the tiny, squalling babies that some of my friends have lately produced, but little girls who are
‘Look, Kate, no offence,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘But that Matt Martell’s a total wanker. He flirts with everyone, but you know he’s going out with Ailsa
Logan, right?’
‘Ailsa Logan?’ I echoed. This must be a mistake.
‘Yeah,’ said Danny, appearing at my other shoulder. ‘Ailsa Logan off
Rise & Shine
. That fit TV bird.’
‘Are you sure?’ I said. ‘He said he didn’t have a girlfriend.’
The two cameramen exchanged a glance.
Chris scoffed. ‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? But I saw pictures of them together at the British Television Awards just last week. It was in the paper on the plane over.’
I felt my cheeks flame with anger. As the queen of location flings, I should have recognized a kindred spirit. What happens on location stays on location, right? But a girl has to have
standards. I’d never knowingly slept with someone who was in a relationship, and I wasn’t about to start now.
Over at the bar Matt had worked his way to the front, his broad shoulders forcing a space in the crowd. He turned to look over his shoulder at me. When he saw that I was flanked by two burly
cameramen, he looked puzzled and raised a hand in a hesitant half wave.
‘The nerve of him,’ said Danny, linking his arm with mine.
‘That bastard,’ said Chris, taking my other arm.
I couldn’t disagree.
And I let them lead me away from Matt Martell and straight into a welcoming vat of appalling Nigerian whisky.
7
I can’t deny that I am intrigued to meet the mysterious Ben. Although I suppose he’s only mysterious to me, since Mum and Dad must have met him plenty of times.
It’s the first time a boyfriend of Prue’s has taken an interest in the business, and for my parents to have allowed him to get involved they must think it’s a serious
relationship. They’ve been running the business ever since Dad gave up being a roadie when Prue was born; I don’t think she understands that they’d already lived a big life by the
time they came to Lyme. Their ambitions for excitement had been fulfilled by years of travelling and hanging out with rock stars. They moved to Dorset for the quiet life. I guess I got a little
taste of the travel and glamour – I was six by the time we moved here, when they were looking for schools and stability. Prue, on the other hand, has known nothing but the quiet life, so she
can’t help but try to push Baileys’ into the limelight all the time.
The back door is still open and I can hear noises from next door’s garden; Eddy’s granny must be up too. I’m wary of calling to her over the garden fence, since I have no wish
to see her topple backwards off a ladder again. But the noises in the garden sound high-pitched, excited, not the usual mild chatter of an old lady talking to herself. I pour hot water into the
cafetière and leave it to sit while I step outside.
‘No,
you’re
the nasty queen and
I
am the princess,’ declares a voice that very definitely does not belong to Mrs Curtis.
‘I don’t
want
to be the nasty queen, I am going to be the prince who is going to save the princess,’ someone else answers.
‘You can’t be a
prince
, stupid, you’re a
girl
.’
‘Then I’m going to be a
princess
who saves the princess.’
‘It doesn’t work like that, the princess has to be saved by a
prince
.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says everyone, actually, and anyway I don’t want to be saved by you – I’m the oldest.’
‘Girls?’ says a man’s voice from inside next door. Eddy’s, I realize.
‘Daddy,’ the younger voice pleads. ‘Daddy, we can both be princesses, can’t we?’
I hear Eddy step out into the garden.
‘You’re both my princesses, Grace, course you are,’ he says, affectionate but dismissive, not realizing the sisterly argument at stake.
How strange that Eddy should have children. Proper school-aged children, not the tiny, squalling babies that some of my friends have lately produced, but little girls who are
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