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Chapter Five

Three months later

The rehearsals were over.

Gemma Reilly stood in a corner by the bar, anxiously surveying the rest of the cast. They’d just checked into The Three Palms Hotel in Lyme Regis and welcome drinks were being served in the lounge. A pair of double doors had been opened on to a terrace and most of the cast were enjoying the views of the sea. Most of the cast except Gemma, that was. She felt more like the new girl at school. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. The director, Teresa Hudson, obviously knew everyone, as did the assistant director, Les Brown. Not that he was talking to anyone. He was known as Les Miserable because of his permanent scowl and lack of humour and he wasn’t known for his small talk. Right now, he was emptying a bowl of nuts into the palm of his hand and chasing them down his throat with a gulp of whisky.

Gemma let her eyes roam the room and they rested next on actress Sophie Kerr. Gemma knew of her work – mostly an impressive stint with the Royal Shakespeare Company, wowing audiences with her varied performances from her wonderfully witty Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing to the most heartbreaking Ophelia in Hamlet. She watched as Sophie flirted with ease with one of the guys who was always carrying cables around. Gemma wasn’t quite sure what he did but he was absolutely spellbound by Sophie and why shouldn’t he be? With her bright blonde curls and bubbly personality, she was the answer to most men’s dreams.

Nearby stood another well-known actress, Beth Jenkins, wearing a dress that was slashed to her navel. She had striking red hair that fell to her shoulders in an immaculately straight curtain and lips that were painted a dangerous-looking red. She was beautiful. She was playing Louisa Musgrove and, from the rumours Gemma had heard, nobody would mind too much if she really did crack her head open after flinging herself from the Cobb during the famous scene from Persuasion. Beth Jenkins was a grade-one bitch.

‘I heard she ran off with the producer’s husband on the set of her last film,’ Gemma heard somebody say behind her. She turned to see two young girls serving behind the bar. They were giggling and whispering, pointing at each actor in turn.

‘Wasn’t she having an affair with that pop star at the same time?’ the other girl said.

‘What pop star?’ her colleague asked.

‘I don’t know. All of them, probably!’

The both giggled again.

Best keep my distance from her, Gemma thought.

That was the problem with filming, though. Casts became like families in that you couldn’t easily escape one another. Gemma had already learned that on her first production – a TV drama called Into the Night. Part love story, part whodunnit, it had been cruelly slated by the critics, as had Gemma’s performance.

‘Destined to play nothing more than the blonde bimbo,’ the television critic from Vive! had said.

‘Legs like runner beans,’ Star Turn had said, ‘and they were her best feature.’

Gemma had been mortified and had gone into hiding for months, dyeing her hair black and building her leg muscles up at the gym.

Things weren’t helped by the fact that her mother was the much-loved actress, Kim Reilly, who’d starred in the seventies cult TV show, Bandits. As soon as Gemma had dared to follow in her footsteps, comparisons had been made. It was inevitable, she supposed. Her mother had been beautiful, talented and lucky. Bandits had been one of the biggest shows of the time with sky-high viewing figures. It had run for five series before the lead actor had been tragically killed in a motorbike accident. If that hadn’t happened, it would probably still be running today, Gemma often thought, her mother dressed in her trademark skin-tight trousers and skimpy tops, her hair blow-dried and bouffant.

Her mother had never topped her performance in Bandits although she had tried to top herself a couple of times. In the public’s mind, she personified success; women wanted to be her and men wanted to bed her. But she was incredibly fragile and, although she adored attention, she also found life in the public eye difficult to cope with. Gemma, it seemed, took after her. She was a bag of nerves just thinking about taking part in a film and yet there was something in her that compelled her to do it. At stage school, she used to be physically sick before going on stage but then she always gave the most dazzling performance – well, that’s what the other students and her tutors had told her. So what had happened with the fated TV drama?

‘Just critics trying to get a cheap laugh,’ one of her old stage school friends had told her when they’d met down the pub to discuss it. ‘Don’t pay them any attention. You were marvellous!’

‘What could you possibly do with a script like that?’ another – more honest – friend had told her. ‘I think you did very well, considering.’

Thank goodness Teresa Hudson had believed in her and had given her a much-needed second chance. There’d obviously been something in her performance that she’d liked. If only she had that belief in herself, she thought.

Looking around the room again, she saw a young man with dark tousled hair. A pair of bright grey eyes sparkled from behind his glasses as he listened to Teresa talking about something or other. Gemma had seen him at rehearsals. He was the screenwriter and one of the producers but he never said a lot. He had a kind face and a nice smile and seemed almost as shy as she was. There was another man just behind him and Gemma suddenly caught his eye. He smiled and his eyes almost disappeared into two happy creases. He had thick brown hair and looked as if he was about to cross the room to talk to her but Gemma turned her back to him. She wasn’t interested in being chatted up. She’d heard plenty of stories about on-set relationships and they never ever worked out.

She watched as a couple of actors came in from the terrace and approached the bar. They nodded at Gemma but didn’t start a conversation. She was glad for there was only one actor here that interested her and that was Oli Wade Owen.

Gemma swallowed hard. Of all the actors in the world to play Captain Frederick Wentworth, why did it have to be Oli Wade Owen? She’d had a crush on him for as long as she could remember. All of her walls at stage school had been covered in posters of the young actor and she’d gazed longingly at them, fantasising about playing Juliet to his Romeo or Cleopatra to his Antony.

He was tall and classically handsome with soft blue eyes and thick blond hair that you just wanted to reach out and touch. But it was his smile that was his best feature. ‘The smile that stole a thousand hearts’ the press had called it; Oli Wade Owen was never short of a girl or two. Frequently photographed coming out of expensive restaurants and exclusive nightclubs, he was front page tabloid news and there was always endless speculation as to who was accompanying him.

Gemma watched him as he chatted to Beth Jenkins. She was obviously enjoying the attention and was in full flirt mode. How could she ever compete with the likes of her? Gemma wondered. It was a whole other league of womanhood.

But it was you Teresa chose for the lead role, a little voice told her and it was true. She wouldn’t be surprised if she’d made a mortal enemy of Beth in the process but, nevertheless, here she was – about to act opposite Oli Wade Owen on a big budget film.

As Oli suddenly turned and flashed her a dazzling smile that almost melted the ice in her drink, Gemma still couldn’t believe it. She didn’t feel ready for this. The role of Anne Elliot was her first in a film and she had the feeling that everybody was waiting for her to fail. But – even worse than that – was the fact she was fully expecting to herself.