house, has a house or is hoping to buy a house here. Whoopi Goldberg, Tom Hanks, Sting, Pierce Brosnan, Halle Berry . . . and people
like that don’t rest easy unless they have a small army watching over them.
‘The beach is just behind there,’ Ritchie continued, pointing through a dark garden to his right. ‘If they could, the residents would even stop the public going on it, but
there’s a public right of way below the high-tide marks. So instead they installed that guardhouse back there to stop people coming in by the road, and made sure that the local police patrol
the beach at all times to keep people away from their front windows.’
‘Seems a bit . . . well, paranoid,’ Cate said hesitantly. She didn’t want Ritchie to think that she was being rude about his uncle. ‘I’d hate to live in a place
which had to be patrolled night and day.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Ritchie nodded thoughtfully. ‘But, in fairness, there are a lot of weirdos out there. And then there are the paparazzi who can make their lives a misery
– these stars may be rich, beautiful and famous, but they pretty much have to spend their whole lives looking over their shoulders.’
‘How horrible,’ said Cate, remembering the hordes of paparazzi that had besieged Nancy just about every time she had stepped off her yacht. ‘I don’t think I could stand
it. And to think that so many people crave fame. Look at The X Factor and all those celebrity reality shows full of people saying they want to be famous. If only they knew the truth of
it.’
‘Be careful what you wish for, eh?’ Ritchie said. ‘Here we are.’
In front of them a large pair of wrought-iron gates slowly opened inward on to a terracotta-tiled driveway which cut a wide circle through an endless green lawn. A large, three-storey white
building rose up in front of them. Its huge windows were edged with ornate metal balconies which ran right around the house. The top floor had been built in a wave shape, with the crest running
away from them and pointing out to the ocean beyond.
‘If you think this looks good, you should see the beach side of the house,’ said Ritchie, clearly amused at Cate’s stunned expression. ‘It sits on stilts and the top
balcony stretches nearly out to the ocean. There’s a hot tub and a pool up there – of course.’
As the car engine died away, Cate could hear people laughing and music coming from the house. A member of staff opened the enormous front door to them.
‘Ritchie, Cate, great to see you.’ Johnny James, immaculately dressed in a pale suit and blue shirt, was standing in the hall chatting to a group of men in pastel suits who were
clutching glasses of what looked like fizzy water. Cate recognised at least two of them as film producers who had created some of the biggest film franchises in the world. Johnny broke away from
the men and came over to give his nephew a hug.
‘Sorry, this is going on longer than I expected,’ he said. He put out his hand to Cate. ‘Thanks for coming too, Cate. We might well need some extra help, especially if
it’s as smart and beautiful as you.’
Cate felt herself blushing. Thank goodness she had managed a last-minute change out of her jeans and T-shirt. When Ritchie had told her where they were going she had dug out her one glamorous
outfit – a pale-green maxi dress, which she was now wearing with her precious LK Bennett wedges that her dad and Monique had bought her for getting great exam results.
At least she looked as if she was actually meant to be at this party, rather than someone who was just there to do the cleaning up afterwards, she thought as she gazed around at all the gorgeous
women wearing designer dresses and sipping carefully at their water.
Johnny James looked down at his watch, a discreet piece of jewellery that Cate happened to know cost well over thirty thousand pounds – Johnny advertised those very same Oyster watches in
all the high-end
like that don’t rest easy unless they have a small army watching over them.
‘The beach is just behind there,’ Ritchie continued, pointing through a dark garden to his right. ‘If they could, the residents would even stop the public going on it, but
there’s a public right of way below the high-tide marks. So instead they installed that guardhouse back there to stop people coming in by the road, and made sure that the local police patrol
the beach at all times to keep people away from their front windows.’
‘Seems a bit . . . well, paranoid,’ Cate said hesitantly. She didn’t want Ritchie to think that she was being rude about his uncle. ‘I’d hate to live in a place
which had to be patrolled night and day.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Ritchie nodded thoughtfully. ‘But, in fairness, there are a lot of weirdos out there. And then there are the paparazzi who can make their lives a misery
– these stars may be rich, beautiful and famous, but they pretty much have to spend their whole lives looking over their shoulders.’
‘How horrible,’ said Cate, remembering the hordes of paparazzi that had besieged Nancy just about every time she had stepped off her yacht. ‘I don’t think I could stand
it. And to think that so many people crave fame. Look at The X Factor and all those celebrity reality shows full of people saying they want to be famous. If only they knew the truth of
it.’
‘Be careful what you wish for, eh?’ Ritchie said. ‘Here we are.’
In front of them a large pair of wrought-iron gates slowly opened inward on to a terracotta-tiled driveway which cut a wide circle through an endless green lawn. A large, three-storey white
building rose up in front of them. Its huge windows were edged with ornate metal balconies which ran right around the house. The top floor had been built in a wave shape, with the crest running
away from them and pointing out to the ocean beyond.
‘If you think this looks good, you should see the beach side of the house,’ said Ritchie, clearly amused at Cate’s stunned expression. ‘It sits on stilts and the top
balcony stretches nearly out to the ocean. There’s a hot tub and a pool up there – of course.’
As the car engine died away, Cate could hear people laughing and music coming from the house. A member of staff opened the enormous front door to them.
‘Ritchie, Cate, great to see you.’ Johnny James, immaculately dressed in a pale suit and blue shirt, was standing in the hall chatting to a group of men in pastel suits who were
clutching glasses of what looked like fizzy water. Cate recognised at least two of them as film producers who had created some of the biggest film franchises in the world. Johnny broke away from
the men and came over to give his nephew a hug.
‘Sorry, this is going on longer than I expected,’ he said. He put out his hand to Cate. ‘Thanks for coming too, Cate. We might well need some extra help, especially if
it’s as smart and beautiful as you.’
Cate felt herself blushing. Thank goodness she had managed a last-minute change out of her jeans and T-shirt. When Ritchie had told her where they were going she had dug out her one glamorous
outfit – a pale-green maxi dress, which she was now wearing with her precious LK Bennett wedges that her dad and Monique had bought her for getting great exam results.
At least she looked as if she was actually meant to be at this party, rather than someone who was just there to do the cleaning up afterwards, she thought as she gazed around at all the gorgeous
women wearing designer dresses and sipping carefully at their water.
Johnny James looked down at his watch, a discreet piece of jewellery that Cate happened to know cost well over thirty thousand pounds – Johnny advertised those very same Oyster watches in
all the high-end
Similar Books
