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