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bedding and can make beds up in the lounge for the rest of tonight.’
    Beth tutted. ‘I’ve never heard the like!’
    â€˜There are only about two hours left before we’re due to get up anyway,’ Sophie said. ‘I don’t see what the big problem is.’
    The two actresses glared at each other.
    â€˜We’ll make proper arrangements tomorrow,’ Teresa cried above the chaos. ‘Let’s just try to get through the rest of tonight.’
    Gemma sighed and watched as Oli sauntered casually downstairs with his suitcase, and there was a sudden scramble between Beth and Sophie to follow, both, no doubt, intent on grabbing the nearest makeshift bed next to him.

Chapter 7
    The last few weeks had passed in a blur of activity for Kay. She sold her little house in Hertfordshire and left the county that had been the home of the Bennet family in Pride and Prejudice and the scene of so much of her own personal sadness and moved into Wentworth House in Lyme Regis and a brand new beginning. The trouble was that her dream to be an artist by the sea hadn’t materialized. She hadn’t even had time to unpack her paintbrushes, let alone paint anything. There was just so much to do, such as saying good-bye to all her old friends and promising that they could come and stay at the B&B as soon as it was ready.
    Mr Piper had recommended a local painter and decorator, Charlie Evans. He turned up with his seventeen-year-old son, who didn’t look at all happy to be there and kept disappearing, only to be found at the nearest slot machines. Still, they’d made a start with the hallway, dining room, and the bedrooms, as they were the most visually horrific rooms and the ones that paying guests would be most likely to notice. The living room and kitchen would have to wait.
    Out went the headache-inducing carpets and the pink sinks, and in came tin after tin of cream paint and an army of white sinks. To replace the carpets, Kay chose seagrass. She’d always loved it, but had never been able to afford it before. The fun bit then arrived—choosing the accessories. There were some gorgeous shops in the area, and bedding, towels, lamps, and mirrors were chosen with love and care until all the rooms were worthy of featuring in a glossy magazine and Kay could feel just a little bit proud of the new home she created for herself and her guests.
    How quickly she’d got used to her new life on the coast. She loved waking up to the sound of seagulls. Their raucous cries were the most efficient of alarm clocks, and she always tried to get a quick walk along the Cobb before breakfast, taking in the bracing sea air and watching the ever-changing moods of the sea.
    She bought a map of the area and was learning all the names. To the west of the Cobb was Monmouth Beach, and farther along, Pinhay Bay, but her favourite place was still Lyme. She loved the view across Lyme Bay to the great hulk of Golden Cap, and on a very clear day, it was possible to see as far as the Isle of Portland.
    There was so much she wanted to see and explore, too. All the places had magical-sounding names, such as Gabriel’s Ledge and Black Ven along the coast, and inland, villages with names like Wootton Fitzpaine and Whitchurch Canonicorum.
    She loved the street lamps along the front in Lyme Regis that were shaped like ammonites. She loved the shiny mud of the harbour, which reminded her of the bitterest chocolate, and she loved the evenings, when the sea and the sky turned the palest pearly blue and it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. In short, she loved everything , but her favourite thing was the Cobb. She’d looked at it and walked along it, photographed it, and worshipped it from every angle, admiring the sloping sweep of it, sketching it in her pad over and over again, determined to paint it one day soon. It seemed like a living thing to her, and she desperately wanted to capture that