tightly.
‘Good. And, action.’
He delivered the line, and he knew he’d got the thought behind it and the delivery spot on.
‘Keep rolling and let’s do it again, before we lose the light. Try and give us a smile at the end of the line, Rich,’ Tizzy shouted.
They did it seven more times. Each time she asked for a different tone or expression. At last the crew told her the light had gone for the day.
Richard gladly put on his coat and headed back towards his trailer.
Instead of following the path to his trailer, though, he turned his collar up and looked for the footpath he knew would get him to the main road.
It ran between two high hedges and smelt of rotting greenery.
Walking now down the dark road, Richard tried to get his brain to think sensibly and make a plan. But it was impossible. He just knew he had to get as far away from the set as possible.
When he heard a car coming from behind, he pulled his collar up and walked into the shadows.
The car slowed, moving at his pace. He heard the purr of an electric window.
‘Mr Gere? Richard? You OK?’
Richard stopped walking and the car stopped too. He looked at his driver, Kevin, sitting warm in his comfortable car.
‘I don’t want to go back,’ he said.
‘To the hotel?’ Kevin asked.
Richard looked at his shoes and didn’t answer.
‘Where do you want to go?’ Kevin said.
‘Away from here.’
‘Fair enough. Any ideas?’
‘How far are we from Cornwall?’ Richard asked after a pause.
Kevin laughed. ‘A bloody long way.’
Just before midnight, June, Kevin’s wife, saw her husband’s car turn onto the driveway of their neat 1930s semi. She watched as Kevin got out and opened the back door for his passenger.
‘Oh, blimey, Butler,’ June said to her little dog as the passenger got out. ‘It bloody well is Richard Gere.’
She ran to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and then to the front door to let Kevin and their visitor in.
‘Hello. Do come in. Make yourself at home. I’ve got the kettle on.’
Richard shook her hand. ‘I’m so sorry to land on you like this, but Kevin insisted it would be OK.’
The boiled kettle beeped from the kitchen. ‘Of course it’s OK. We’re not the Dorchester but I do a nice pot of tea. Give me your coat.’
Richard walked into the homely comfort of the living room. Family photos on the mantelpiece. A large chintz sofa and two matching armchairs. An enormous television in the corner and a pair of glamorous velvet curtains at the bay window.
June came in, carrying a tray crammed with small side plates, dainty sandwiches and a Battenberg cake. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry, but you’ll sleep better with a full tummy. Kevin, come and get the tea tray, would you, please?’
Sitting on the sofa and taking in the wonderful normality, Richard began to relax. Tomorrow he’d call his agent and tell her he was fine. He just needed to take some time out. No big deal. Actors walked off films all the time.
June sat back with her best cup and saucer. ‘Kev says you want to go to Cornwall.’
‘I have old friends there who I haven’t seen for far too long.’
‘Of course, you helped to save the old Pavilions theatre with that film. We’ve been once or twice since it was renovated, haven’t we, Kev? It’s really special now. Your photo is up on the wall in the foyer. Pride of place.’
‘You’ve been to Trevay?’ Richard asked, amazed.
‘Well, yes.’ June passed him a plate of chocolate biscuits. ‘Kev and I have a caravan just about ten minutes away. Rocky Cliffs Holiday Park. It’s lovely. We bought it when the kids were small. Do you know Rocky Cliffs?’
Kevin tutted. ‘Why would he know a caravan park? I expect he stayed at the Starfish.’
Richard munched his biscuit and tickled the dog, Butler. ‘I have stayed at the Starfish. A lovely hotel.’
‘Well, you can’t stay at the Starfish this time, can you?’ said Kevin. ‘Not if you want to stay away from people and cameras. Can you stay with your friends?’
June suddenly clutched Kevin’s arm. ‘I’ve had a thought. Why don’t you take Richard down to the caravan? No one will go looking for him there. It’s ever so quiet at this time of year. It’s the last place they’d think of.’
‘I’d love to stay there.’
‘Are you sure?’ Kevin asked uncertainly.
June stopped him. ‘It’s just what he needs. Look how relaxed you get when you’re there. I reckon a bit of sea air away from the nutters will do you good.’ She looked from one man to the other and made their minds up for them. ‘That’s sorted then. You can go tomorrow. You need a good night’s sleep first, though. You’ve both had a long day, and look at the time! The middle of the night. Kev, take Richard up to his room and show him the bathroom.’
Richard stood up. ‘I can’t thank you enough, June. I feel better than I have for days.’ He gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. She noted his distinctive scent of cologne. Heavenly.
‘Oh. Well. It’s our pleasure,’ she said.
‘Can I help you with these trays and the washing-up?’ he asked.
‘No, no. Off to bed with you. Go on. I won’t be long.’
June watched as her husband and the handsome film star climbed the stairs. Then she went to the kitchen to load the dishwasher. Finally she let Butler out for a last wee, and saw her reflection in the kitchen window. ‘Oh, June,’ she said, touching her cheek. ‘You’ve just been kissed by Richard Gere.’
In the Cornish village of Pendruggan, the early morning sun was shining brightly.
At the Dolphin pub, the landlady, Dorrie, had cleaned the bar and the lavatories. She was now upstairs in her favourite armchair with a cup of coffee and the newspaper waiting by her side. This was one of her favourite times in the day; the place was her own, at least until the lunchtime drinkers arrived.
The old pub settled around her as she closed her eyes and sipped her coffee.
Her two boys were at sea working on the fishing boats. They wouldn’t be home until the end of the week. Don, her husband, was building a conservatory for some second-home owners in Trevay.
She opened her eyes and looked happily on the lane winding down to the village. Twists of woodsmoke came from several chimneys, and a couple were walking their dogs on the green. The Atlantic Ocean sparkled beyond. All was well with the world.
She picked up the day’s paper by her side and took another sip of coffee before reading the headline:
FILM ACTOR RICHARD GERE IS
MISSING
She almost choked.
At the vicarage, on the other side of the village green, Penny was enjoying the quiet of her kitchen. Her husband, Simon, was across the hall in his study asking for divine guidance as he typed out his Sunday sermon. She should be in her own office, opposite Simon’s, working