Page 26 of For Love or Money
It was one of the first warm, sunny days of summer, and half of Dublin seemed to be headed, as they were, for the coast. Lesley had been glad of the chance to wear her favourite Zara dress, but now as she looked down at her milk-bottle legs, she was beginning to regret her decision. She wouldn’t stand out among her fellow Dubliners – the pavements were full of people in summer clothes, whose translucent skin was obviously getting its first airing of the year – but Stella had been living in California. Lesley would probably look like a ghost beside her.
She was glad she and Al were the first to arrive at the restaurant in Dun Laoghaire, so she could get her legs under the table before Stella and Peter turned up. They were shown to a table on a large terrace overlooking the harbour.
They’d just been given water and menus when Peter and Stella arrived. They stood as the couple weaved across the terrace towards them. They both had a healthy, golden glow about them that instantly made Lesley feel pale and washed out by comparison.
Even though she’d been expecting him, it still gave Lesley a jolt to come face to face with the legendary Sir Peter Bradshaw. Lean and rangy as a greyhound, he looked older in real life, but no less handsome for it. His thick silver hair was streaked with chestnut, and years of hard work and hell-raising had etched deep lines on either side of his mouth and around his soft blue eyes. When Al introduced them, he shook her hand and gave Lesley a smile that softened his whole face, and though she had never particularly fancied him, she found herself quite bowled over as he kissed her on both cheeks.
Stella was the strawberry blonde that Lesley had found in online images, and she was just as stunning in real life – long-limbed, and as tall as Peter, she was what magazine writers would call ‘striking’ rather than pretty, with high cheekbones and slanting green eyes that had a feline quality to them.
Peter ordered sparkling water and a bottle of champagne, and there was a lull as they all turned their attention to the menu. Lesley was disappointed when Stella and Peter both decided to have crab salad after a long consultation. She’d never been one of those ‘I’ll just have a salad’ women, and she really wanted the lobster linguine. But she also didn’t want to be the only one at the table mindlessly scoffing carbs like some sort of throwback who didn’t know any better. So she was relieved when Al ordered fish and chips.
‘Well, congratulations, you two,’ Al said when the waiter had poured the champagne.
‘Gosh, is that the ring?’ Lesley nodded to the whopping diamond on Stella’s finger as they all clinked glasses. ‘Can I see?’
‘Of course.’ Stella held out her hand with a shy smile. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’
‘Wow, it’s beautiful,’ Lesley said, taking her hand and making the appropriate gushing noises. It must have been worth a fortune. She didn’t know anything about diamonds, but you didn’t have to be an expert to see that it was bloody enormous. If Stellawasa gold-digger, she’d hit pay dirt. ‘So when’s the big day? Have you set a date?’
‘Not yet,’ Stella said, ‘but we’re thinking of some time in September.’
‘After we get back from France,’ Peter added. ‘Are you coming to Nice, Lesley?’
‘Yes, she is,’ Al said, smiling lovingly at her in a way that felt unnervingly real. Blimey, he was good at this pretending lark. She’d have to up her game.
‘Well, it’ll be great to have you there,’ Peter said. ‘I haven’t been to the place since last year,’ he told Al. ‘I’d have gone in April if it hadn’t been for that awful little shit going off the rails in the middle of everything and delaying filming.’
‘Who?’ Lesley asked, perking up. She loved gossip.
‘Ronan,’ Peter replied, pursing his lips.
‘Ronan O’Hara?’ Lesley gasped. Ronan O’Hara was the eponymous magical child of the Inheritor film franchise, and Peter played his dead father, who still watched over him, imparting wisdom and guidance from beyond the grave.
‘Who else? They should have fired him and re-cast, if you ask me. But unfortunately the whole Inheritor universe revolves around the little oik, so we had to twiddle our thumbs until he came out of rehab.’
‘Rehab? But isn’t he, like, eight?’
‘He was,’ Peter said sourly. ‘Once upon a time. But he grew up, as they all do, in theory. God preserve us from child stars.’
‘Oh, he’s not so bad,’ Stella said, bumping his shoulder. ‘He’s just going through an awkward phase. And he idolises you.’
‘I can’t believe you’re sticking up for him after he cornered you in his trailer that time.’
‘He’s a hormonal teenager,’ Stella said. ‘He didn’t mean any harm. Just trying his luck.’
Lesley couldn’t help thinking Stella looked sort of pleased, as if having a horny teen trying to feel her up was something to be proud of. Maybe she was one of those women who found catcalling and wolf-whistling flattering. Lesley thought women like that had gone out with the flood.
‘And he blatantly stares down your top whenever you’re doing his make-up,’ Peter said peevishly.
‘So do you.’
Peter grinned. ‘Well … I’m allowed. We’re engaged.’
‘I can’t believe he’s a teenager,’ Lesley said. ‘I still think of him as a little kid.’
‘Hideous child,’ Peter shuddered. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re a fan.’
‘Oh God, no!’ Lesley said. ‘He’s way too boyish. Anyway, I’m not into the Inheritor movies at all. I can’t stand all that magical Chosen One bollocks.’ She suddenly remembered who she was talking to. ‘God, sorry!’ she gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. ‘I mean, I’m sure they’re brilliant. It’s just not my sort of thing. I don’t even like Harry Potter!’
