The Barn on Half Moon Hill Read online

  Sonny’s voice dissolved into white noise as Franco’s thoughts returned to Cariad Williams and her letters. Ridiculously, she had been the woman who had hung around most in his life, even more than his own mother had. Cariad Williams had written to comfort him when his father died, not long after she lost her own dad. She’d written a list of tips for coping with grief and he’d followed it and it had helped. And she’d made him smile more than she could ever guess at whenever he broke up with whichever temporary screen darling happened to be gracing his arm. None of his romances ever lasted very long. His PR team invariably steered him towards the beautiful self-promoting starlets and their PR teams steered them towards him and sometimes they had fun for a while. ‘Aerosol-cream relationships’ he used to call them, because they looked great for a very short time before collapsing and sinking to nothing.

  ‘You hearing me?’ Sonny’s gruff New York voice barked at him.

  ‘Yeah, I hear you.’

  ‘He’s a war hero.’

  ‘Who?’

  Sonny exhaled loudly and impatiently. ‘The guy I’ve been talking to you about for the last five minutes. The owner of the Winterworld theme park you agreed to go and open.’

  ‘It’s open already, Sonny. They’re having a Half-Christmas celebration because it’s exactly six months to Christmas Day, and it seemed a good time to open the new attraction – the lagoon which they want me to christen.’ He made the sign of the cross in the air as if he were executing a papal blessing.

  ‘Hallelujah! He does hear me.’ Sonny fluttered a pair of big meaty jazz hands.

  Franco’s new film was called Winterworld and was set in a post-apocalyptic landscape filled with snow. He had press interviews in London, which coincided with the date of the opening of a lagoon in a park, also called Winterworld. It was owned by an ex-soldier and his wife. Franco’s PR office, hearing about it, thought it would be a great idea to volunteer his services, especially as there was a tide of newspaper grumbles about stars only ever visiting the capital. Sonny went nuts with them. Chasing a no-fee appearance, what were the idiots thinking of? He didn’t buy all the crap they were telling him that going to the North of England would make the film star a hero of the people. He ran it past Franco, expecting him to blast the idea out of the water, and couldn’t believe it when Franco agreed to do it. It didn’t cross Sonny’s mind Franco’s decision could be anything to do with a crazy Welshwoman who had been writing to him since they were kids.

  Meanwhile, at Winterworld, Jacques, the war hero, studied Eve, his wife, as she stood stroking the head of Ivan, one of the snow ponies. He was a young colt who had been found in a shocking state on a farm. He wouldn’t have lived much longer if the owner hadn’t been reported. Ivan had really taken to Eve and whinnied to her when he saw her nearby. He would have let her stroke his head all day, nudging her for more like a demanding cat when she stopped.

  There was something on Eve’s mind, Jacques could tell. Something big that was coming between them and though she insisted she was fine, he knew her better than she knew herself. Whenever she felt troubled or stressed, she spent more and more time with the animals, though he was sure she wasn’t even aware that she did. It was as if she took comfort from them that a human couldn’t give her. She was shutting him out and he didn’t know why, but it didn’t bode well. He had learned that the harder her shell, the more the inside of her was broken crumbs and he was worried.

  From behind him, he could hear Effin Williams ranting again at both his own team of builders and the Polish lads. A stream of angry Celtic guttural sounds that his workforce listened to patiently with their eyes rolling. The Welsh lads would translate his words into English and the English-speaking Poles would then wearily translate it to their fellow workers. Not that they needed to because they knew that Effin would be calling them useless in his own unique way.

  ‘S’dim byd fedrwch chi wancyrs ddim cocio fyny’n llwyr, y ffycars rhyngwladol ddiwerth?’ He was screaming at them.

  Is there nothing you wankers couldn’t totally cock-up, you worthless international f**kers?

  Any other day, Jacques would have laughed, but smiles weren’t on his horizon at the moment. Eve turned and Jacques waved to her, moving forwards as if he had just arrived and had not been standing watching her.

  Poor old Huw Jones the engineer was getting forty lashes from Effin’s tongue now for some adjustment or other that he’d made to the Nutcracker Express. The train either ran at a snail’s pace or warp speed, he couldn’t seem to find any middle ground.

  ‘Fedri di ddim wancio heb gyfarwyddiadau, fedri di, Huw Jones?’

  You couldn’t wank without instructions, could you, Huw Jones?

  ‘What are you up to then, wifey?’ Jacques bellowed, forcing a light cheerful note in his voice.

  ‘Oh, nothing much,’ said Eve. He noticed that her green eyes were too bright, as if she’d been crying recently. ‘Just brought an apple up for Ivan.’

  ‘He’s better fed than me,’ said Jacques, reaching over to scratch the pony’s head. ‘He fancies you.’

  ‘He’s an animal, Jacques,’ tutted Eve. ‘He wants my apples not my body.’

  I want your body, Jacques was about to say but clamped his mouth shut.

  ‘Effin’s going to have a heart attack with all that shouting,’ she went on, hearing a fresh salvo of vicious-sounding Welsh. Strangely enough, Effin’s thoughts were in harmony with hers.

  ‘Cocs Cymreig a phrics Pwyleg . . . newch chi fastads roi harten imi rywddydd!’

  Welsh cocks and Polish pricks . . . you bastards will give me a heart attack someday.

  Jacques smiled. ‘He just wants everything perfect for our guest of honour.’

  ‘I can’t believe you actually managed to get Franco Mezzaluna to come here.’ Eve shook her head, as she had so many times before at this. ‘And for free? You really can charm the birds off the trees, can’t you?’

  But I can’t charm you at the moment, can I, my darling? thought Jacques.

  He shrugged his shoulders modestly. ‘Don’t ask, don’t get,’ he said. ‘Which brings me to say: would you like to have lunch with me at The Sun Arms? Nothing flash. Pie and mash, though I might throw in a tiramisu if you’re a good girl.’

  Eve opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t really hungry then she saw in Jacques’s eyes that he suspected she was going to say no. And she really shouldn’t turn him down. She had something important to say to him but couldn’t find the words so she had shut him out and it was hurting him. He didn’t deserve to be messed around while she took time out to decide what to do for the best.

  ‘I’d love to,’ she said. And saw the relief flooding into his eyes.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Big day tomorrow then,’ said Becky, tossing her newly highlighted locks over her shoulder. ‘You’re seeing your boyfriend again. You must introduce us.’

  ‘I will, if he can see me in the crowds,’ replied Cariad, trying to hold onto the contents of her stomach. Oh, why had she said that stupid thing all those months ago? If she hadn’t, she would be looking forward to a night sleepless with excitement and not fear, and tomorrow would have been one of the best days of her life, seeing Franco at last, up close and personal. If only she hadn’t been so impulsive with her money, she could have bought herself a nice flat and she wouldn’t have had to share with these two horrors. But then everyone was wiser in retrospect, as her da always said.

  Lacey was sitting at the kitchen table, trying, and failing, not to giggle. Both she and Becky were taking the day off tomorrow to go to Winterworld and Cariad knew they were more interested in seeing her humiliation than they were at waving at Franco Mezzaluna. Cariad had considered going home to Dolgellau, just disappearing before tomorrow came. But then The Missus, as everyone called Eve, had asked if she’d like to be introduced to Franco when he did his rounds of the park. Could Cariad really miss the opportunity to meet the man who had occupied her heart all these years? Could she turn down the
chance of staring into his blue, blue eyes? Even if those eyes would pass over her, not having a clue who she was. It was looking more and more likely that none of her letters had ever reached him, despite her always feeling that they had. Her instincts had obviously tricked her.

  ‘Wesley was asking after you,’ said Becky, causing Lacey to snort with barely contained derision.

  ‘Was he now?’ replied Cariad, hoping Becky wouldn’t see her hands shaking as she buttered a slice of bread.

  ‘I think you should give him another chance.’

  ‘Oh, he’s nice is Wesley.’ Lacey gave an exaggerated sigh as if Wesley were a sex-bomb.

  ‘No thanks,’ said Cariad, as politely as she could. ‘I’d rather stick a fork in my eyeball.’

  ‘Yeah, well, if you’re used to hanging around with Franco Mezzaluna, I suppose he might come up a bit short,’ said Becky. Lacey didn’t even bother trying to hide her sniggering then.

  The words were out before Cariad could stop them. ‘Yes, you’re right there, Becky. Once you’ve had Franco Mezzaluna snogging the face off you, having Wesley Threlgood trying to stuff his tongue down your throat isn’t much of a treat.’

  Oh, God, Cariad Williams, why the bloody ’ell did you say that? she thought.

  She snatched up the slice of bread and butter and marched into her bedroom, trying to get away from the reprimanding voice in her head as much as from the nasty ridiculing laughter of her flat-mates, whose horrible faces she wouldn’t see ever again after tomorrow, she’d decided. They’d make her life hell when Franco Mezzaluna ignored her so she would have to go home to Wales. Even if it was with her tail between her legs.

  Chapter 3

  The lagoon was beautiful and ready to be revealed to the general public. They would love it, thought Eve. It had cost a small fortune to build but standing there, looking at it, she knew they had been right to invest.

  They’d found a natural spring at the side of the Christmas-tree forest and had dug it out to allow the water to flow. Around it, Effin’s men had constructed the fake crumbling walls to make it look like an ancient fairy palace caught up in an eternal winter. It consisted of two zones, the deep central swimming area, which was inexplicably naturally much warmer than it should have been, and the shallow area, where specially chosen plants now thrived and acted as a natural filtration. It looked as if it had been there for hundreds of years. They had called it Lady Evelyn’s Lake, after Eve’s beloved aunt who had commissioned Winterworld. On the original plans, the old lady had outlined where she would have put the lake that she never got to swim in herself. Eve had made sure that it was everything her water-loving aunt would have wanted – and more.

  Effin was in a flap, as usual, though there was nothing to get heated about. At least there wasn’t until Thomas the engine driver had told him that he thought the train was running slow. That was all the excuse he needed to go off on one. And he wasn’t happy about all the security guards who were milling around, muttering into communication gadgets as if they were straight off the Men in Black film set. One of them was eyeing up his niece like a dog with a bone and Effin could feel all the hairs on the back of his neck rising. If Mr Security so much as touched his darling girl, no matter what James Bond-type tools he might have hidden about his person, he’d still find his nuts in a vice.

  Eve waved over to Cariad. She’d liked the young Welshwoman immensely. She was always pleasant with everyone and so pretty with her dark curly hair and big brown eyes. Eve thought she looked like the ballerina in a jewellery box she once had, with her long neck and slim graceful limbs. But, oh my, what was going on inside Cariad’s head today? Her lovely eyes were full of tears.

  ‘Cariad, what’s the matter?’ Eve asked, concerned.

  ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ replied Cariad, sniffing. ‘I’m just a bit over-awed. I’ve got a bit of a thing about Franco Mezzaluna. Nervous, I am.’

  Eve gave her arm a comforting squeeze because she was much too short to put an arm around the willowy Cariad’s shoulder. She didn’t want to see the girl upset by the prospect of meeting the hot Hollywood star; it was meant to be a treat for her, not an ordeal.

  ‘I only hope that Franco doesn’t fall in love with you as soon as he sees you,’ Eve said with a smile. ‘I’m not sure we could cope with losing you.’

  That didn’t stop Cariad’s tears at all – if anything they started flowing faster.

  Then the sound of a tinny voice came through the walkie-talkie of a nearby security guard: Mr Mezzaluna’s car was at the gates. He had arrived.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve got much chance of that,’ gulped Cariad.

  The gates opened and crowds gushed into Winterworld, ready to see Franco. The security guards herded them forwards safely between the barriers, allowing no running, no crowding or pushing. ‘The stage is elevated, everyone will see him,’ they said over and over again, but they knew they’d have trouble on their hands if everyone suddenly broke ranks and tried to swarm the Hollywood heart-throb.

  Even Jacques had to admit that Franco Mezzaluna was a stunning-looking man. And boy had he dressed for the occasion! A Hugo Boss bespoke summer-blue suit and a shirt which was whiter than anything that the snow machines of Winterworld could spray out. He oozed class. And he was charm personified too. He’d emerged from his car with a huge smile and his hand outstretched ready to shake. Franco’s spiky male PA Logan had made some hurried introductions, because this really was a flash visit, he reminded everyone, and they’d already been held up firstly by fans blocking the road and then by Franco, who had insisted on getting out of the car and signing as many autographs as he could while posing for selfies with people before Logan forced him back into the limo. Jacques was surprised to find that Franco was the same height as himself – head and shoulders above most people. He had met a couple of film stars in the past, during his work for Help for Heroes, and they turned out to be much smaller in real life than they appeared on the big screen. But Mr Mezzaluna was a very tall, strapping young man. Jacques, who always prided himself on being an excellent judge of character, got a good vibe from him.

  Eve looked around for Cariad, so she could present her to the film star, but she had strangely vanished. How could she pick this time to disappear? she thought. Even after she and Jacques had spent time in front of the TV cameras and the reporters, posing for photos with the drop-dead-gorgeous star, there was still no sign of Cariad.

  ‘Can I get you anything, Mr Mezzaluna?’ asked Eve, as Franco appeared to be looking around him for something – or someone.

  ‘No, I, er . . . I’m okay, thank you.’

  ‘We wanted to give you lunch but your office said you had no time,’ said Jacques.

  Franco narrowed his eyes slightly in the direction of Logan. Yes, he did have time, and he was actually ravenous. Logan needed to climb out of his own ass sometimes. He always presumed that Franco wouldn’t want to mix with the general public and made excuses for him too often. Lunch with these good people at the side of that beautiful lake would have been very acceptable.

  ‘I have a pretty intense schedule,’ said Franco, trotting out the standard excuse with a sad sigh. ‘You don’t happen to know if . . .?’

  ‘Franco, this way please.’ Cameras snapped at him.

  ‘I’m afraid we need to be heading to the stage,’ said the string-thin Logan with a very commanding voice, tapping his watch with an insistent finger.

  Franco allowed himself to be led forwards with an entourage of cameramen loping in his wake. He had more than done his duty for the park, who had got some fantastic shots of him posing by the lake. He’d even jumped on the Nutcracker Express train, where the driver Thomas got his autograph on a teddy bear and a photo of them both together for his wife Eunice.

  Cariad stood on the front row at the side of the stage. She knew that he wouldn’t see her among everyone else, even with her bright pink top and headband on, because he wouldn’t be looking for her. What she didn’t plan on was finding that L
acey and Becky had been among the first in the queue to get in and had weaved and pushed their way over to her. Even worse, they had Aaron and Josh in tow.

  ‘Have you seen him yet then?’ asked Lacey. ‘I thought he’d have autographed your chest by now.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Becky. ‘He hasn’t a frigging clue who she is.’

  Cariad’s cheeks flushed bright red and then, as if someone had pulled a massive plug out of them, all the blood drained away and they went quickly white because the crowds were starting to scream and shout and cheer as Franco Mezzaluna, Eve and Jacques walked onto the stage.

  ‘Jesus, he is gorgeous,’ said Becky as Lacey bounced excitedly at the side of her.

  ‘Hey, everyone,’ shouted Franco, waving at the crowd and taking a microphone from Jacques’ hand. ‘Hello, Yorkshire! Hello, Winterworld!’

  He wasn’t just gorgeous, he was beautiful. Like a god. Cariad wanted to cry.

  On the stage, Franco swept his eyes across the ocean of faces. The adulation was almost tangible.

  She’s somewhere near, a voice inside his head rapped on his brain. He knew she was here. She would have made sure she was here today, she wouldn’t have missed seeing him for anything, of that he was certain. He knew what she smelled like because her letters were perfumed with her scent and he was sure he caught a note of it as a rogue breeze rippled past him.

  ‘I’m not here for long, guys, but I am so glad I came to see this beautiful park you have. And that lake – boy, you are all in for a treat.’

  Find her.

  ‘Can’t believe he hasn’t leapt off the stage and started humping you,’ sniggered Lacey into Cariad’s ear as Franco charmed everyone. Even Effin, at the other side of the stage, had a dopey look on his face, as if he’d fallen in love with the handsome actor.

  Cariad knew she had to get out of there. She could cut through the crowds and no one would stop her because it would allow people to move forward a place. She could be back at the house and out again with all her worldly belongings by the time the others got home. She would go to the train station and be home in Dolgellau by nightfall.