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‘She was having a series of mini-strokes, Charlie. That’s completely different.’
‘No, it’s not. You saw something that no one else could see, and you acted on it.’
‘Yeah, and Doris isn’t some wild child looking for excuses.’
Charlie shot Drew an outraged look. ‘So it’s okay if it’s my gran, because nice little old ladies deserve your attention, is that it? You’re far too eminent in your field to bother with people who might be a bit awkward.’
‘No, of course not. You know me better than that, Charlie.’
‘It’d be a challenge…’
Charlie knew exactly what buttons to press. He always had with Drew.
‘Look, even if you could just talk to Carly, as a friend. Convince her to think about her own career for a moment and not let this Sophie character drag her down with her. I’d count it as a personal favour. At the very least it’ll be a couple of days out of town to clear your head. And the bike could do with a bit of a run.’
The thought of garaging the car, and just getting on his motorbike and riding somewhere, anywhere, seemed suddenly like a plan to Drew. Alone, on the open road, he might just be able to leave the bitterness over a past that couldn’t be changed behind him.
‘All right. I’ll talk to Carly.’ He sighed. ‘You’d better tell me whereabouts in Devon I’m supposed to be going.’
To give Charlie his due, everything had gone like clockwork. When he arrived at the comfortable country hotel, the receptionist was expecting him and directed him straight up to a sunny room, overlooking a nearby golf course.
He dropped his overnight bag on the bed. The drive down here had given him time to think. He’d seen this world, or one very like it, before. People who didn’t say what they meant. People who pretended to be one thing when, in fact, they were another. Beautiful people, like Gina, who had taken a young doctor’s heart and squeezed it hard until it had felt empty of anything but pain.
He was older now, and a great deal wiser. He’d talk to Charlie’s friend, make her see sense and go back to London in the morning. No real need to even unpack. Drew was halfway to the bathroom when a knock sounded on the door.
‘Carly DeAngelo.’ A young woman with dark curls, an American accent, and a no-nonsense air held her hand out for a brief handshake. ‘I really appreciate your coming all this way.’
‘My pleasure.’ It seemed that Charlie had already alerted Carly that he was coming and there was no need to seek her out.
‘Is it okay if we get together in half an hour? I’ve got another meeting later on this evening.’
That would be more than enough time to take a shower and change out of his grime-stained clothes. ‘That’s fine. I’ll meet you downstairs.’
Carly nodded. ‘Ask for the Blue Room. I’ll get them to bring us something to eat.’
The Blue Room turned out to be a small, private dining room, overlooking the sea. The highly polished table was set with heavy silver cutlery and Drew moved the centrepiece of dried flowers before he sat down. He had a feeling that eye-to-eye contact was going to be necessary to persuade Carly that this arrangement really was a bad idea.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to sign this.’ Carly extracted some stapled sheets of paper from a bulging portfolio she’d brought with her, and pushed them across the table towards him. ‘It’s a confidentiality agreement.’
That was fine. Drew didn’t intend to even think about this after tonight, let alone talk about it. He picked up the pen that Carly had placed ready, and she shook her head. ‘Read it first.’
Drew read the pages carefully and signed. ‘Now we can talk.’
The appearance of a waiter put the moment off. Carly ignored the menu and ordered a salad, and Drew decided that he was too hungry to bother with food that could be picked at during the course of a conversation and ordered steak and chips. He wasn’t considering saying much anyway. No just about covered it.
‘Charlie’s told you a bit about this.’ She waited for the waiter to close the door behind himself before she spoke.
‘He’s told me that you’re worried about your friend. That her behaviour’s been erratic recently and she won’t see a doctor.’
‘Yeah. I’m a third assistant director here…’ Drew raised a querying eyebrow, and Carly smiled. ‘That sounds a bit more important than it is. I’m pretty low on the pecking order. Sophie helped me get the job and when we were over here last winter, doing the first lot of shooting, everything went really well.’
‘And now you’re back, things have changed?’
‘Yeah. Joel, the director, knows that Sophie and I are close, and he’s assigned me to her in the hope that I can get her under control a bit. But it’s just impossible. The film world’s a very small one, and no one’s going to touch her when she’s finished here if she’s not careful.’
First things first. He wasn’t a career consultant. ‘If you think your friend is ill, then my first advice to you, or to her for that matter, is that she sees a doctor.’
‘You’re a doctor. If you stay here for a couple of weeks, then you’ll see Sophie all the time.’
‘I can’t make any kind of diagnosis by just looking at someone. It doesn’t work that way.’
‘But you could tell me what you think. What the best way to proceed is. Charlie says you’re a neurologist, you must be able to recognise the symptoms…’
‘The symptoms of what?’
Carly flushed, looking down at her hands. ‘Sophie was in a car accident about four months ago, when we went back to the States after we were here last winter. She hit her head, the side of her face was all bruised up…’ Her hand wandered to her own temple and along the side of her jaw.
‘And she saw a doctor after the accident?’
‘Yes, she was taken to the hospital. They looked her over, X-rayed her, gave her some painkillers and released her. Told her to come back again if there were any problems.’
‘And did she?’
‘No. She called me and said she was going away for a holiday, and she disappeared completely for a couple of weeks. When she got back she was… different, She’s vague, and defensive, and… She’s just not Sophie any more.’
It was obvious what Carly was thinking. Drew knew that this wouldn’t be the first case of traumatic brain injury that had been overlooked in a general examination after an accident, and imagined it wouldn’t be the last. If TBI was what they were dealing with here.
‘I have to ask you this. Are you aware of her being involved with drink or drugs at all?’
Carly’s mouth twisted. ‘You’ve been reading the scandal sheets, haven’t you.’
‘No. I’d ask that question of anyone.’ Maybe not quite anyone. Drew rejected the thought that it had been a little higher on the list than usual.
‘She drinks a glass of wine with dinner sometimes, that’s all. And it’s not drugs.’ Carly flashed him a defiant look. ‘I’d know.’
‘Would you?’
‘I’ve been around this business long enough. I’m not stupid. For a start…’
Carly bent her little finger back, as if she was about to give a list of all the signs of drug abuse, and then swallowed her words as the waiter entered with their food.
‘Something to drink?’
Drew was about to say no. It was early enough to eat and then get back on his bike and go—he’d be home by midnight. Then he caught sight of the tears brimming in Carly’s eyes.
‘A glass of house red would be great. Thanks.’
Carly nodded, and ordered the house white for herself. ‘She’s not using drugs. I’d swear to it. She doesn’t even take painkillers when she has a headache, just shuts herself away in her trailer.’
‘She has headaches?’
‘Yeah. Fewer than she says, sometimes she just doesn’t want to talk to anyone, but there are times when she’s telling the truth.’
How was Carly so sure? Drew’s experience of show business was limited to a couple of photographic shoots he’d been to with Gina, but his impression then had been that everyone treated the truth as if it was an optional extra. Gina had confirmed those suspicions herself, by lying to him with startling aptitude.
The waiter returned with their drinks, and Drew took a sip from his glass. At the back of his mind it registered that it was a very good red, and he took another swallow. ‘Look, Carly…’
‘Don’t. Please don’t tell me you can’t help because I know that you can. Please…’ Carly picked up her glass with a shaking hand and then put it down again and blew her nose on her napkin.
Perhaps Charlie had tipped her the wink that tears would help her case. Drew rejected the unworthy thought and apologised silently to his friend. Lying and manipulation were Gina’s style, not Charlie’s.
‘Okay. What do you want me to do?’ He could at least listen.
‘I’ve got the okay to employ a medical consultant on set. I said that it might help Sophie and right now the director would try just about anything to get her to pull herself together.’
‘I understand that she plays a doctor in the film.’
‘Yes. It’s set in 1944…’ Carly pulled a large, spiral-bound document from her portfolio before Drew had a chance to object that he knew nothing about historical medical techniques.
‘We’ve got this manual, written by an eminent medical historian. That’ll help you. And injuries are injuries, so you won’t have any trouble talking to the special effects guys about making them look authentic.’
‘But you’ve managed this far…?’ Drew picked his knife and fork up, in a signal that none of this held any water, and he was going to eat. The knife sliced through the tender, succulent steak as if it were butter.
‘We had a set consultant when we were here last winter, but we didn’t reckon we needed anyone this time around because there’s less medical emphasis. But when I told the director it might help Sophie, he agreed like a shot. No one cares about the cost of it, we’re talking a multi-million-dollar project here.’
Drew wondered what those many millions might have done, applied a little more usefully. Kept his old hospital open maybe. ‘Even assuming I take the job, I can’t do what you ask, Carly. The thing that will really help Miss Warner is to see a doctor, in a professional setting.’
Carly’s stricken look would have made Drew relent if he hadn’t been so sure that he was right. ‘Okay, then. What does work for you?’
‘What works for me is that I go back to London in the morning. If you want set advice, you get in touch with someone who’s interested in that kind of thing. And if you want advice on Miss Warner’s condition, you persuade her to go and see a doctor.’
Carly thought for a moment. ‘That makes sense. Now, given that Sophie’s adamant that she won’t see a doctor, and that I’m out of options and pretty desperate, is there anything else you can suggest?’
It was a straight question, with an easy enough answer. ‘I could stay on for a day. I’d be happy to meet with Miss Warner and try to persuade her.’
‘And she’ll say no, and then you’ll walk away. Job’s done as far as you’re concerned and nothing changes.’ Carly’s lip curled in contempt.
‘That’s not…’ Drew swallowed his words. It was exactly how it was. He was the one engaging in half-truths and excuses, not Carly. If he didn’t want this job, he should just say so.
But he couldn’t. However unlikely his role here and despite the fact that it wasn’t going to push the boundaries of medical science, it was somehow intriguing. Did he even have the right to call himself a doctor if he chose to turn his back now?
‘If I decided to do it, and I haven’t yet, there’d be conditions.’
‘Fair enough. I want you to tell me how to do this, not the other way around.’ Carly nodded him on, obviously aware that she’d found a chink in his armour.
‘I’m not Miss Warner’s doctor. I’m not going to guess at a diagnosis and I’m not going to report back to you on anything. If I have any concerns, I’ll speak only to her about them and advise she gets proper medical help.’
‘Just advising isn’t going to get you anywhere. Do you plan on being a bit more assertive than that…?’
Carly’s gaze met his and Drew held it for a moment. ‘What do you think? Do I seem assertive enough to you?’
‘Yeah. You do.’ She stretched her hand out towards Drew. ‘We have a deal, then?’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_27fa7d8f-defd-5c60-99dd-6a17d169a3ec)
THE NEGOTIATIONS HADN’T quite finished there. Drew had insisted that a week was quite enough for them both to see whether or not the arrangement would work. For her part, Carly had vetoed his intention of returning to London the following day to pack for the week and suggested he let Charlie throw some things into a bag for him, for the set runners to collect. When he’d acquiesced, Carly had produced a contract, written in the dates by hand, and given it to Drew.
Armed with four hours’ sleep, and the knowledge that he might well have signed away his sanity for the next week, Drew was on the bus with a sleepy film crew at six the following morning. Carly had told him to consider today as an orientation exercise, and Drew was more than content to maintain a watching brief.
‘Five dollars on ten o’clock.’ An American accent sounded from the seat behind him.
‘I’m not taking dollars. I’ll give you three quid that it’s closer to eleven.’ A woman’s voice this time, speaking in a laughing, London drawl.
‘You’re on.’ Silence for a moment and then a chuckle. ‘C’mon, Madame Sophie. If you get outta that bed now, Dawn’ll have to buy me coffee.’
‘In your dreams. She’ll have to disentangle herself from last night’s waiter and wait for the uppers to kick in.’ Dawn yawned loudly. ‘It’s not fair…’
‘You had your eye on a night of passion with one of the waiters, did you?’
‘No.’ Dawn scoffed at the idea. ‘If we turned up four hours late we’d get the sack. She does it, and Joel’s all over her, grateful that she’s made it at all.’
‘She’s the star. We can be replaced, she can’t.’
‘True enough. Though we’ve still careers when this job is finished. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when she tries for her next part.’
Drew stared straight in front of him. If this was true, then Sophie Warner was more of a nightmare than he’d reckoned. If not… The remote chance that Carly was right suddenly seemed worth taking. If Sophie was sick, and she continued to keep quiet about it, then things were only going to get worse.
The bus drew into a cluster of vehicles parked at the end of what looked like the main street of a small village.
‘Looks as if you owe me that coffee, Dawn…’ Drew couldn’t help but look out of the window, in response to the voice behind him. ‘She’s here already.’
‘Yeah, she’s not going to be ready for a while. Look, she’s on her way to her trailer. What’s the betting she’ll stay in there for another four hours?’
Drew saw Carly walking towards a group of trailers with another woman. Small and blonde, almost swamped in the large mackintosh she was wearing against the morning’s chill air. They disappeared in between two of the vehicles and he craned his neck to see where they’d gone but he couldn’t.
The set began to come alive for the day, and Drew maintained his watching brief. Before long, a concentrated buzz of movement centred around the main street of the village, which was a meticulous re-creation of wartime England. Further out, people in period costume mingled with the crew, almost as if the scene was dissolving, melting back into the present day.
From his vantage point, sitting in a fold-up chair at the edge of the activity, Drew suddenly saw a blonde head at the centre of it all, around which the whole shebang seemed suddenly to revolve. He looked at his watch. Eight-thirty. It looked as if Dawn was going to be paying for coffee today.
At lunchtime, the privileged few made for the group of trailers, and everyone else made a rush for the catering truck. Drew decided to wait until the scrum had died down a bit and flipped open the pages of his book.
‘Hello.’ Someone interrupted his reading, and Drew turned into the gaze of the greenest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Shiny blonde hair, pinned in a wavy arrangement that was reminiscent of his grandmother’s, but to quite a different effect. A dark skirt and a white blouse, under a lacy hand-knitted sweater.
‘Sophie Warner.’ She was looking at him as if he was a mere diversion, in the absence of anyone more interesting to talk to. ‘You’re the new medical consultant.’
Now that she wasn’t half-obscured by distance and the milling entourage of people, he recognised her face from somewhere. Probably the TV, when he’d thought he’d only been half watching it. But he couldn’t have been watching at all because it hadn’t registered that she was gorgeous.
Drew smiled at her. Despite her obvious indifference to him, it was surprisingly easy to do. ‘That’s right. Drew Taylor.’
