Page 16 of Meet Me at Sunset

Stephanie sped down to Cala de la Belleza, a delicious warm breeze on her bare skin as she dared herself to drive even faster on the almost-deserted roads.

At Catherine’s suggestion, Stephanie had borrowed a moped. She adored staying with the Douglases – they’d been nothing but gracious hosts, kind and welcoming, opening their home to her.

Stephanie had met Catherine at the party thrown after the last night of her run in The Tempest .

Catherine loved the theatre and they’d been introduced by the director and had hit it off immediately.

Since then, Catherine had taken her under her wing, and when Stephanie ran into her problems on the Fields of Barley set, it was Catherine to whom she had turned, and who had offered her the chance to get her thoughts together in the privacy of their villa.

Stephanie knew that her time here couldn’t last, though.

The Douglases were busy people with what seemed like dozens of projects on the go, from movie offers to property deals to business investments, Stephanie knew their time together as a family was precious, and that she was an added complication they didn’t need.

When they did take some time to relax, their enthusiasm for golf was a passion Stephanie didn’t share, so she decided she’d leave them to it.

She had mentioned that she was keen to see more of the island, so Catherine had suggested, in her melodic Welsh accent, ‘Why don’t you take one of the mopeds from the garage? It’s the best way to explore.’

But not before she’d gently nudged Stephanie to do what she knew she should.

‘Anthony left me a message this morning. He wants to talk to you, darling – why don’t you give him a call? He wants to give you the time to sort your head out … but …’ Catherine’s eyes were kind, but also questioning.

Anthony Minghella, the director of Fields of Barley . ‘You’re right, I know I need to talk to him.’ Stephanie said, ‘I just need a little more time.’

Catherine patted her hand. ‘Don’t leave it too much longer, my love, will you? Enjoy your whiz around the island!’

Stephanie knew exactly what Catherine meant; films had schedules, budgets, deadlines. She was holding everything up.

I’ll think about it later.

After a quick lesson with Catherine’s gardener, Stephanie was ready to go, heading along the coastal road wearing Daisy Dukes and a strappy vest top.

It was a beautiful day, as ever, with barely a cloud troubling the perfect azure sky, and it wasn’t long before Stephanie pulled into the beachside town of Belleza.

The bustling centre was set around a cobbled market place, where inviting tables and chairs were set up outside a row of cafés, as couples and families enjoyed their holidays.

Cats lazed in the heat, hoping for scraps from the tables, whilst in the centre of the square was a three-tier fountain, bubbling water cascading over the stone basins.

Children were paddling in the wonderfully cool shallows, shrieking excitedly as they splashed one another, their fingers sticky with ice cream.

Stephanie parked up, locked her helmet in the rear box, and set out to explore the meandering streets.

She knew that Il Paradiso wasn’t far from here, and she felt her stomach flip at the prospect of running into Lucas.

She did like him, she admitted to herself, and there was undeniable chemistry between them.

But she had no intention of pursuing him – he had a girlfriend, and she wasn’t the kind of person to try and break up a relationship.

Besides, her date with Paulo had complicated the situation.

She didn’t think they had a future together, but she had had fun on the boat, and Paulo had messaged her to ask her out again.

Stephanie hadn’t replied yet, but she knew she should.

She turned down a pretty, tree-lined avenue with whitewashed buildings and cream-coloured awnings outside the shops.

It looked very chic, and Stephanie realized that the lane was home to a row of designer boutiques, the skinny mannequins in the windows wearing expensive-looking clothing, and signs for Gucci, Loewe and La Perla hanging above the doors.

She instinctively felt intimidated. Despite Stephanie’s newfound fame and wealth, this wasn’t the world she came from, and she worried it was obvious that she didn’t belong.

But she held her head high and told herself that she had every right to be there as she strolled along, taking in the tiny bikinis and the cocktail dresses that cost more than her parents’ monthly wage.

‘Sorry,’ she apologized automatically, almost colliding with a woman who had stepped out of one of the shops, laden with stiff, white cardboard bags.

‘No, my fault,’ the woman replied in a soft Scottish accent that sounded familiar.

The two women looked at one another for a moment, then burst out laughing.

‘Isobel,’ Stephanie exclaimed. ‘I thought I recognized your voice. Doing a little shopping?’ she grinned, nodding at the cluster of bags Isobel was carrying.

Isobel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Trying to put a serious dent in my husband’s credit card. That’ll serve him right.’

‘Oh no, have you two had an argument?’

‘You could say that. He’s been called away for work, and has flown to the mainland to see a client.

He’ll be back in a few days.’ Isobel shrugged, though her expression showed how unhappy she was with the situation.

‘It’s all about work with him. Even now, when we’re supposed to be on holiday.

I ask him to switch off for two weeks, that’s all, and he can’t even give me that.

’ Frustration and sadness were clear in her voice.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sure it must have been important,’ Stephanie said sympathetically.

‘Oh, yes, his work’s always important.’ Isobel couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice.

‘Well, you deserve to have fun without him. Listen,’ Stephanie said, as she had an idea. ‘I have the afternoon free. Why don’t we go and find a bar? You, me, a bottle of rosé …’

‘Sounds perfect,’ Isobel grinned.

Five minutes later, the two women were sitting beneath a cream umbrella outside a smart-looking café, two glasses of wine and a dish of olives on the table in front of them.

‘You know, I thought your face looked familiar the other night,’ Isobel said, as she sat back and examined Stephanie. ‘And when I got back to the hotel I realized why. Were you in Fly Home ?’

‘Yes!’ Stephanie exclaimed delightedly. ‘That was the very first film I did. I loved it, and it got great reviews, but it bombed at the box office.’

‘It was fantastic – and you were incredible. I thought it was so moving.’ Fly Home was a Brit-flick, a coming-of-age drama in which Stephanie had had a small role as the younger sister of the main character, played by Rachel Weisz.

‘Thank you. I didn’t think anyone else had seen it.’

‘I used to love taking myself off to the cinema in the afternoon, and having the whole place practically to myself. I gave up work when I married Stuart, and before I set up the boutique I had a lot of time on my hands.’

Stephanie didn’t ask anything further; she didn’t want to judge, or pry.

‘It must be amazing staying with the Douglases.’

‘It is. The villa is beautiful, and they’ve been so generous towards me, letting me stay for as long as I want to.

It’s been a …’ Stephanie didn’t want to reveal more to Isobel, they barely knew each other.

‘… busy time over the last few months. I needed time and space to clear my head, to get away from everything, and they’ve given me that. I’m so grateful to them.’

‘I think I read something in one of those gossip magazines that there was trouble on the set of your film, or was that just malicious tittle-tattle?’

Stephanie frowned. ‘Did the article say why, or who?’

Isobel cocked her head to the side, trying to remember. ‘I don’t think so.’ Then she laughed. ‘Who’s the troublemaker? It can’t be you, you’re too nice.’

Stephanie sighed. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. They do mean me.’

‘Really? Something you want to talk about?’

Stephanie wasn’t sure she did want to talk about it, but Isobel seemed like someone who wouldn’t judge her, so she decided to open up. ‘ Fields of Barley is my first big shoot; big budget, big cast, big director.’ She looked downcast. ‘Little old me.’

‘Hey, don’t do yourself down!’ Isobel said, ‘You’re an amazing actress – you stole every scene you had in Fly Home .’

‘Maybe that’s because I didn’t understand the enormity of what I was getting myself into. It was all new and exciting, most of the cast were unknown, it had a small budget, and the lead actress declined a fee upfront. But this time …’

‘Did something happen?’

‘Yes … I was feeling a bit intimidated already, and then one day, nothing was going right, there had been no end of delays due to the Yorkshire rain holding up the shoot. One of the actors had been ill as well, so it was all behind schedule. Anyway, I’m playing the daughter of Richard Harris, and during one of our big dramatic scenes together, I just felt like I was doing everything wrong.

All the crew were snappy, and I kept tripping over my lines.

’ Stephanie cringed, remembering vividly her feelings of inadequacy and failure.

‘The director and Richard couldn’t have been nicer, but later that day I overheard some of the extras being horrid about my performance while I was crying on the loo. ’

‘Bitches,’ Isobel said, with feeling.

‘Maybe, but they were right about my acting that day. I just sat there in the fancy Portaloos crying. Eventually one of the costume girls found me in there.’

‘Then what happened?’