from then on.
They watched the cut-together film of the session with the Paras, complete with the jump, and Sarah worried anew about Nick's reaction. They had added in her falls on the assault course, but edited out the language. 'Too late to worry now,' Paddy told her wryly. 'You wanted to do it sweetheart.' He was right. She shrugged it off and got on with the job like the pro she was, though it hurt to introduce the new girl presenter. She tried to like her, but she did rather resent the easy way Philippa fitted in.
'Don't tell me you're jealous!' Peter teased, when they had retired to her dressing room in the break between dress rehearsal and transmission.
'Of course not!' Sarah bent to the mirror to hide her face from him, but she was jealous, and he knew it.
'You wanted to go off and be a film star!' he reminded her brusquely. 'Life has to go on here the same without you, whether you like it or not!'
* * *
She thought about that, and everything else, as she drove down the M4 after the show. She caught all the rush hour traffic as she left London, and was almost at the Reading turn-off before she could put her foot down. The top was off her BMW since it was a warm evening for mid-May, and it helped to let the air blow away the misery that had been building up all week. Even the crusty old gate man had wished her luck as she had left, and there was a pile of farewell bouquets on the back seat from friends and fans .alike. She was really proud that she had got through the show, and the day, without bursting into tears. Now she had the agony of a new job and a new crew to get used to.
Coming in after the shoot had started was not going to be easy - friendships had already been formed, alliances made. She was the outsider, and not even first choice. Even though Nick and Chris had said they preferred her to Harriet, the crew would be comparing them, and she knew full well that she did not have Harriet's camera experience, or her reputation in the industry.
It was nearly seven when she drove into the gates of Hastings Court. Nick had suggested that she stay there the first evening so that he could go over the script and generally update her on the shoot, a suggestion backed up enthusiastically by Charles. She had turned down his offer of a guest suite at the house full-time, preferring to stay with the unit at the nearby hotel.
After having lunch with him one Saturday, she had decided she liked him, and could not fault his manners, or behaviour, but that she preferred a little distance between herself and Charles Hastings' obvious adoration. He had astonished her by whisking her off to lunch in the helicopter he mainly kept for his own use, though since his Lloyds problems it had been used more and more for his business.
'I do own an air charter company,' he had said casually as she had voiced her surprise. 'Among others, of course!' His admiration for her was open and constant, and, though she was sure he would never press her if she was unwilling, she preferred not to take the chance. Peter was upset enough as it was, about the pictures of her with James outside Archies.
Carefully she pressed the code she had been given into the control pad by the electronic gates and then drove distrustfully through them as they opened. The road to the house was gravel, winding through woodlands still full of bluebells, giving them a misty haze of blue, and then she gave a gasp of amazement as the trees petered out and the house came into view.
* * *
She thought she would never forget that first sight of Hastings Court. From a distance the mellow-bricked Queen Anne mansion looked like a perfect dolls' house in the soft evening light as the sun dropped behind the woods and filled the horizon. The road curved over a wide stone bridge, spanning the lake in front of the house, which in turn spilled into a weir across the river that the lake led to. Across the lawns stately cedar trees seemed to curtsy in the gentle breeze as she
They watched the cut-together film of the session with the Paras, complete with the jump, and Sarah worried anew about Nick's reaction. They had added in her falls on the assault course, but edited out the language. 'Too late to worry now,' Paddy told her wryly. 'You wanted to do it sweetheart.' He was right. She shrugged it off and got on with the job like the pro she was, though it hurt to introduce the new girl presenter. She tried to like her, but she did rather resent the easy way Philippa fitted in.
'Don't tell me you're jealous!' Peter teased, when they had retired to her dressing room in the break between dress rehearsal and transmission.
'Of course not!' Sarah bent to the mirror to hide her face from him, but she was jealous, and he knew it.
'You wanted to go off and be a film star!' he reminded her brusquely. 'Life has to go on here the same without you, whether you like it or not!'
* * *
She thought about that, and everything else, as she drove down the M4 after the show. She caught all the rush hour traffic as she left London, and was almost at the Reading turn-off before she could put her foot down. The top was off her BMW since it was a warm evening for mid-May, and it helped to let the air blow away the misery that had been building up all week. Even the crusty old gate man had wished her luck as she had left, and there was a pile of farewell bouquets on the back seat from friends and fans .alike. She was really proud that she had got through the show, and the day, without bursting into tears. Now she had the agony of a new job and a new crew to get used to.
Coming in after the shoot had started was not going to be easy - friendships had already been formed, alliances made. She was the outsider, and not even first choice. Even though Nick and Chris had said they preferred her to Harriet, the crew would be comparing them, and she knew full well that she did not have Harriet's camera experience, or her reputation in the industry.
It was nearly seven when she drove into the gates of Hastings Court. Nick had suggested that she stay there the first evening so that he could go over the script and generally update her on the shoot, a suggestion backed up enthusiastically by Charles. She had turned down his offer of a guest suite at the house full-time, preferring to stay with the unit at the nearby hotel.
After having lunch with him one Saturday, she had decided she liked him, and could not fault his manners, or behaviour, but that she preferred a little distance between herself and Charles Hastings' obvious adoration. He had astonished her by whisking her off to lunch in the helicopter he mainly kept for his own use, though since his Lloyds problems it had been used more and more for his business.
'I do own an air charter company,' he had said casually as she had voiced her surprise. 'Among others, of course!' His admiration for her was open and constant, and, though she was sure he would never press her if she was unwilling, she preferred not to take the chance. Peter was upset enough as it was, about the pictures of her with James outside Archies.
Carefully she pressed the code she had been given into the control pad by the electronic gates and then drove distrustfully through them as they opened. The road to the house was gravel, winding through woodlands still full of bluebells, giving them a misty haze of blue, and then she gave a gasp of amazement as the trees petered out and the house came into view.
* * *
She thought she would never forget that first sight of Hastings Court. From a distance the mellow-bricked Queen Anne mansion looked like a perfect dolls' house in the soft evening light as the sun dropped behind the woods and filled the horizon. The road curved over a wide stone bridge, spanning the lake in front of the house, which in turn spilled into a weir across the river that the lake led to. Across the lawns stately cedar trees seemed to curtsy in the gentle breeze as she
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