The Great Cornish Getaway

‘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.’

Chapter 2 (#ulink_c63c258d-3a52-560f-ae76-ba13ce5675ae)

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 on the budget for a new project.

But instead she rummaged in her bag for her phone and gave in to the guilty pleasure of checking Twitter. She checked her news app first.

Moments later she crashed open Simon’s office door.

‘Richard has disappeared,’ she announced.

‘Richard?’ said Simon vaguely. ‘Richard at the garage?’

‘No, no,’ said Penny, her voice rising with impatience, ‘Gere. Richard Gere.’

‘How do you know?’

‘It’s all over the news.’

‘I thought you were working?’

‘Never mind that.’ Penny showed her husband the phone. ‘Look. He’s been filming here in the UK.’

‘Whereabouts?’ asked Simon with interest.

Penny huffed crossly, ‘Does it matter?’

‘I’d like to know, that’s all. If it’s local then maybe I could find him.’

‘Northumberland,’ Penny said, slumping into the nearest armchair.

‘Oh,’ said Simon. ‘That’s a long way from Cornwall.’

‘Perhaps he’s seriously ill? Or having a nervous breakdown?’

‘Now you’re being too dramatic,’ said Simon. Richard and Penny had bonded thanks to his help with her TV production studio a few years ago. It was a close friendship and, as with all her good friends, Penny was fiercely protective of Richard.

Penny had an idea. ‘Maybe it’s a brilliant PR trick? You know, to get people interested in the film?’

‘Maybe.’ Simon squinted at the sermon on his computer screen.

Penny huffed again.

The phone rang.

Neither of them moved. It was bound to be someone in the parish asking about the Valentine's fundraiser.

They listened as Simon’s recorded message played: This is Pendruggan Vicarage, the Reverend Simon Canter speaking. I am so sorry I am unable to take your call but do please leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thank you for calling.

Whoever it was paused before hanging up.