The English Boys (7 page)

“She can stay here, unless you're taking her in.”

“I'll get her a room at the hotel for a couple of nights.”

“Nonsense. I have all this space. Why shouldn't she stay a night or two, as long as you've dragged her all this way? For that matter, why don't you stay, too? You can play nurse.”

“Thanks, but I prefer to keep things simple.” Daniel laughed. “If I took a house, I'd probably end up inviting some girl I hardly know to stay with me. We'll be busy, anyway.”

There were a great number of things to be accomplished within the first few days: wardrobe fittings, rehearsals, finding some kind of bit part for Tamsyn. Daniel was suddenly wondering how he had been so easily talked into bringing her along. Hugh led him out onto the terrace, where a cold supper had been prepared. Daniel opened the bottle of wine.

“This looks yummy,” he said, pouring it into three glasses. He handed one to Tamsyn.

She accepted the glass with a smile. He felt her eyes on him throughout the meal, during which it was decided that she would stay in one of the empty rooms upstairs.

“Will you be all right?” Daniel asked later, when he was ready to leave.

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “Hugh's great, letting me stay. I'll look for a room with someone once I've settled in.”

“Good,” he pronounced, relieved. “I mean, it will be good for you to have someone to hang about with.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” she asked, turning her face toward him.

“Maybe you're trying to get rid of me, moving in with someone else.”

“You know you'll always be my first love,” she said.

He thought, then, that he might kiss her, but at that moment, Hugh walked through the door.

Nine

The Cartesian Circle, like
Daniel Richardson's current understanding of things, was a mistake in reasoning. In 1641, Descartes laid out a framework for the meaning of life based on the truth, or assumption of truth, that a benevolent God exists. Accordingly, God exists because he has given human beings a mind with which to think (
Cogito ergo sum; I think, therefore I am)
; if God does not control man but has given him a mind to think for himself, he is not a deceiver; if God is not a deceiver, he is benevolent; therefore, this benevolence proves that God exists. The philosopher wrote that he had discarded perception and used deduction as a method of proof. Yet who amongst us can claim methodical proof that God exists? Does not even Scripture claim, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen”?

Daniel's mistake in reasoning was that one could know the mind of any other human being. He thought he knew Tamsyn Burke and Hugh Ashley-Hunt. He thought he knew himself. Instead, he brought into their lives the catalyst for future life disruption, if not destruction, however innocent he was of that notion. His personal Cartesian Circle was based on certain assumptions: a perception of Tamsyn Burke blowing the stale sameness out of his life; a perception of Hugh being the Hugh he had always known and could rely on to be his normal, diffident self; and a perception that he himself was at a point in his life when he could arrange events to suit himself for amusement purposes only, without the entanglement of emotion being brought to bear. In each of these opinions, he was to be proven wrong, and it all began with a single statement.

“I think Tamsyn would make an incredible heroine.”

Hugh was drunk when he made this declaration, but Daniel, who was not quite as drunk, took it for the omen it was.

“What do you mean?” he insisted, putting down his pint so forcefully it sloshed onto the counter of the bar.

Hugh nodded, as though he had been thinking of the idea for months instead of the brief time he had known her. “There's something about her. She has no business playing some silly bit part when she has such talent. Why, she should star in the bloody picture. I'll bet she would outshine us both. Besides, the part of Fancy still hasn't been cast.”

From the beginning, Daniel had thought of Tamsyn as his friend, and the friendlier she became with Hugh, the more concerned he became. It wasn't right for Hugh to steal her right out from under his nose. Nevertheless, he had hidden his feelings from both of them while he struggled to sort them out. He was now feeling a sudden resentment toward her. Who was she, anyway, unsettling his life like this?

For once, Tamsyn wasn't with them. The three of them had so frequently been seen together by the cast and crew in the last few days that they were being referred to as the Trifecta. In the past, whenever Daniel had what might technically be referred to as a dalliance on set, he'd seen less of Hugh and they had spoken on the phone more, dissecting the object of his fancy until she was in such tatters that the relationship was soon ended. Neither of them had ever brought a girl into the other's life, not since the affair with Lizzie Marsden. Now Tamsyn had done the impossible. She had broken through both of their reserves at once.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Daniel asked. He hadn't meant to say the words aloud, but somehow hadn't been able to stop himself.

“Tamsyn Burke? Are you kidding? I've never met anyone more like a kid sister than her in my life. Besides, have you seen that girl who works for the caterer?”

“The chatty blonde?”

“That's the one. I'm thinking of looking into that.”

Daniel chuckled into his beer glass, relieved. He gazed around the room. There were a few people from work there, having drinks, too. It was a congenial group of people for the most part, as was evidenced by the fact that they were allowed to enjoy a pint in peace. No one had wandered over, ostensibly to ask some irrelevant question about tomorrow's shoot or to seek an autograph for some nonexistent relative. In fact, things were how he'd hoped they would be. A few friendships had sprung up; a couple of meaningless flirtations were taking place. There was always the odd affair or two among people who have had to uproot their lives for a few weeks and were forced to take rooms in strange towns. There was a little casual sex, a few drinks, a lot of laughs; it was part of itinerate work, whether they were cameramen or wardrobe consultants or actors. The pub was part of the scene, an anonymous place in London or Dorset or wherever they happened to find themselves for the duration, sitting at tables full of half-filled glasses and listening to so much laughing and talking one couldn't take anything seriously. An idea was only half-meant if it was shared in a pub, especially in these conditions.

It was almost August, and the heat from the crowded room was beginning to get to him. Outside, the sun had set and it had begun to cool off, and Daniel found he needed a breath of fresh air. In a village this size there wasn't anywhere else to go in the evening, and he wasn't the sort to hang about his rented flat. He knew that when the cast and crew got to know each other better, they would begin to congregate in one or two people's rooms, but that was something he had always managed to avoid. He kept his distance, allowing himself an occasional, safe flirtation, and stayed in the pubs where nothing could go wrong.

He glanced at his watch. It was after ten.

“I think I'm drunk,” Hugh slurred into his ear.

“Good job we're not driving,” Daniel replied. “We can walk it off.”

They each took a last drink for good measure and then stumbled out into the road, putting their arms around each other to prevent the other from falling. They could hear the buzz of laughing and talking in the pub growing weaker as they walked down the lane. The village was living up to the rustic vision Daniel had concocted, not merely as a perfect place for the sort of film they were shooting, but as a place where they could have the occasional binge without attracting any notice.

“Do you ever read Hardy?” he asked Hugh.

“Hardy? God, no. Not since university, and that was only when forced. Besides,” he added, “why bother reading it when people like us are making perfectly good films about it?”

“Hmmm,” Daniel murmured, tightening his grip on his friend. The fact that Hugh was slightly taller made it harder for Daniel to keep him upright.

It was a short walk to Hugh's rented house, and as they approached the door, Daniel asked him for the key. It was produced after a minute of searching the same pockets twice, and then duly handed over. As soon as they were inside Tamsyn appeared, clad in a terry robe emblazoned with enormous coffee cups and looking half her age.

“I think you need a hand,” she said, giving them both a look.

“Thanks,” Daniel answered.

They dragged Hugh into his bedroom, where Daniel helped him onto the bed and pulled off his shoes. Tamsyn took a blanket from a cupboard and settled it over him, and then the two of them left, shutting the door behind them.

“You didn't come out tonight,” Daniel remarked, as if he didn't really care one way or another.

“I didn't feel like it,” she said, picking up a cup. “I've made tea. Would you like some?”

“Why not?” he said, following her into the kitchen, where he leaned up against an old beam. It was a rustic room, but one fitted out for the avid cook. Copper pots hung from a rack on the ceiling and French olive jars were filled with spatulas and spoons. It was a kitchen for making shepherd's pie or bread and butter pudding. It was a shame none of them knew much about cooking.

“The water's still hot.”

He watched as she poured, an odd feeling coming over him. This was the sort of thing he preferred, when it came down to it; a sense of normalcy that had long been missing from his life. Of course, that feeling wasn't attached to her in particular, he assured himself. It was just one of those sensations he had from time to time, which usually went away if he ignored it long enough.

“What do you think of the film so far?” he asked, trying to keep his mind off her figure, which was fortunately obscured by the robe.

“Amazing. The
Woman with Child
is strategically important to the village scene,” she said, winding her hair with her hands and tying it up, leaving feathers of red locks loose around her face.

“A standout part, I'm sure. Never mind those forty or fifty other people milling about, trying to look busy.”

She tossed a cushion in his direction. “That was your opportunity to be gallant, and you missed it.”

“Sorry, I don't use a script on my off-hours. You'll have to cue me.”

“You've had a lot to drink too, haven't you?”

“Thanks for noticing, Captain Obvious.” He closed his eyes and watched the small dark spots that swirled in front of his eyelids make odd, Rorschach-like patterns. He wondered how psychologists analyzed the difference between psychotic and nonpsychotic thinking, and then wondered whether or not he even believed in that rot.

“By the way, I've found a place to stay,” Tamsyn said. “Olivia, one of the assistants, invited me to move in with her and a couple of friends.”

“You're not going to stay here?”

“No. This was only temporary, remember? I'll be happier with a bunch of other girls.”

“That sounds grand.” Daniel clasped his hands behind his head, stretching.

“You're not even listening,” she accused him, scrutinizing his face as though she were his mother. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

“No, thanks. I'll make it back all right.”

She handed him a hot mug and sat down in a deep chintz armchair. “It's not what I expected, exactly. The film, that is.”

“Well, you've got a part, anyway.”

“For a couple of weeks at least.”

“I'm sure they'll find something for you to do if you want to stay a little longer.”

She shrugged. “Unless something more interesting comes along.”

“I'm not sure something interesting could possibly happen around here, unless you shag the producer or something.”

“Not my style.”

“I didn't think so.” He took a drink of the tea. It was far too sweet for his taste. Smiling, he set the mug on the table. “I should go.”

“Thanks for the company. It was rather quiet here tonight.”

“Any time.”

He made his way down the path and closed the gate behind him. He wasn't certain if it was the cool night air, but he felt better as he walked through the empty roads on the way back to his flat. He liked this girl; he really did. And soon Tamsyn would move in with girls she'd met on the set. Maybe then, without Hugh acting as some sort of 1950s chaperone, he would feel comfortable asking her out.

Ten

“I'm going to London
for the weekend,” Hugh said a few days later, setting a dish of cold prawns on the highly polished table. He was an effortless host, feeding his friends and planning various forms of entertainment on a regular basis. Daniel found it a trifle irritating at times. “Marc's come down and we're going to meet up with some people he knows. Why don't you come with us?”

Daniel leaned back in the sturdy wingback chair, which he appropriated every time he came over. It had been a long, boring day of work, and even the book he was reading between scenes hadn't begun to hold his attention. “Actually, I thought I'd stay here for the weekend.”

“I know you don't particularly care for Marc, but he can be very amusing when he wants to be.”

“I know,” he answered, watching Hugh take a slick little prawn from the plate with his fingers and drop it into his mouth like a seal at Regent's Park Zoo. “I'm just a bit tired.”

“Or you've got plans with someone,” Hugh said, eyeing him with curiosity. “I noticed you speaking to Hodge's assistant, Jenny.”

“I have no plans other than to find a good bookshop, if possible, and get something decent to read. The novel I'm reading at the moment is very dull.”

“What about that scrummy brunette in Wardrobe … Kate, is it?”

“There's no one, really.”

Hugh looked up, his eyes widening. “It's not Tamsyn, surely?”

“God, no. What made you say that?”

“I just wondered.” Hugh picked up a bottle of wine and inspected it. “Well, suit yourself. Stay in boring Dorset if you like. But I'm leaving at four o'clock tomorrow, if you change your mind.”

“Thanks. Maybe next time.”

They both looked up as they heard the sound of a key in the door. Tamsyn walked in and heaved her backpack onto the floor. Apart from the odd bit of messiness, she had been an admirable boarder, according to Hugh. Still, Daniel was relieved that she was finally moving out.

“Have a prawn?” Hugh asked as he took another from the tray.

“I think I will. Thanks,” she answered.

“Daniel?”

“Not on your life.” He hated the slimy things. No matter how attractively they were presented on a tray or how much wine he'd had to drink, he couldn't stomach them.

Tamsyn laughed. She was dressed in a long, airy skirt that had likely been purchased at a jumble sale and a plain blue T-shirt. Daniel wondered how long it would be until she earned a proper paycheck, and if she would buy decent clothes when she did. He wasn't altogether certain she would.

“How about a nice glass of champers after a dreadful day?” Hugh asked.

“A small one, I suppose,” she answered, sitting next to him on the sofa. “Although I really must go and pack.”

“You're moving into Olivia's?” Daniel asked.

“That's right. It's going to be a few of us in a house in the middle of town. We'll be cottagers.”

“I'll help if you need me to,” he said.

“I didn't bring that much with me, you know.”

“Still, easier to get around in a car, isn't it?”

“Yes. That would be nice. Thank you.” Tamsyn took one of the prawns between her fingers and sucked it down, chasing it with the champagne Hugh offered. She gave him a wry look. “I may miss being spoiled, though.”

Hugh gave a mock bow. “You're welcome any time.”

“How generous of you,” Daniel said. “You sound like Parson Maybold. I think the film's rubbing off on you.”

“All the more reason to get out of town for the weekend.” Hugh turned to Tamsyn. “Don't let that rush you, though.”

“It won't.”

“Now that that's all settled, let's think about dinner,” Hugh said to them both. He stood, as though he were a force that would move them from their comfortable chairs. “Sir John told me about a good restaurant nearby. What do you say? Shall we give it a try?”

“Why not?” Tamsyn said.

Daniel nodded. Although he wasn't really in the mood to do anything, he couldn't very well refuse since he had chosen not to go to London for the weekend. He drove them to the restaurant at the Dove Cote Inn, where they ate a respectable meal of roast lamb and herbed potatoes. Daniel drank stout while Hugh and Tamsyn consumed cheap wine, the only options available at the establishment. He listened as they talked, mostly about films and plays in which
Hugh had starred, and wondered if she fancied him. Then she
turned her attention to Daniel, though he steered the conversation away from his career. He found the topic far less interesting than finding out more about her. At last they put down their glasses and Hugh took out his wallet and paid the bill.

“Enjoy yourself this weekend,” Daniel told Hugh when he dropped them off.

“I will, thanks.”

“And Tam, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

He went back to his hotel room and flipped on the television. He sat in bed, changing channels, though nothing captured his attention. He turned it off, opened his book, and then closed it again.

“What's wrong with me?” he muttered, though he knew the answer. Tossing the book on a chair, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling until his eyes grew heavy and he finally fell asleep.

The following morning, Daniel knocked at Hugh's door just after nine o'clock. It had rained in the night, and the roads and hedges were damp and glistening. Wet white stones surrounded the beds of hybrid tea roses in various shades of tired pink, their petals frayed by the rain. For a moment, he thought of gathering a few for Tamsyn, but of course, if he did, she would get entirely the wrong idea.

Just then, she opened the door. A blue scarf was tied around her head, and the ends fell in silky waves to her shoulders around her curling hair. “Look at you,” she said, her full lips curling into a smile. “Always there when I need you.”

“What shall I carry?” he asked.

“Everything's here,” she said, indicating her few belongings, which were heaped by the door. “Too bad we're not off to Paris today.”

“You know, I was thinking of going to Brighton, just for the night.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“You could come along, unless, of course, you have other plans.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I could ring Olivia and tell her I'll move in tomorrow.”

Daniel was pleased. “Perfect.”

He loaded her belongings into the boot. As he started the car, he handed her a map, smiling as it became a tangle when she tried to open it. It took a few minutes for her to refold it again and find Dorset, with a few panels opened to the east in order to track their progress.

“Look for Southampton,” he instructed, pulling onto the motorway in the midst of the Saturday morning traffic. With beautiful weather like this, people were bound to want to get away for the weekend. “Then we'll go through Portsmouth and Chichester. Do you see it there?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I rarely travel by car.”

“It's nice to stop whenever you like.”

“Why didn't you tell Hugh?”

“I didn't decide until just now.”

“Well, I'm glad you did.”

Daniel studied the countryside as he drove over the cobbly hills. The fen to the south seemed to stretch on for miles, its peaty tufts nearly obscuring the toadflax and goat willow that grew there. The moor, even viewed through plate glass, had a calming effect on him. His mind felt free and clear for the first time in months. He almost forgot Tamsyn. She, too, was deep in thought, scribbling in a cheap French notebook with a bright orange cover, the sort pupils used.

“What are you writing so furtively there?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“None of your business. Keep your eyes on the road.”

He didn't pursue the subject. She was a curiosity, and he preferred it that way. While he had known Hugh to recommend someone for a role before, he had never known anyone as unconcerned about it as she seemed to be. In fact, for someone who had unexpectedly landed the lead, she was as nonchalant as if she had done it dozens of times before. He wondered if she would take it seriously enough.

“Why Brighton?” she asked.

“My parents are there. We can stay with them and look at the sights, such as they may be.”

“That will be fun.”

“I forgot. You're little Mary Sunshine who appreciates the true beauty of something in spite of its wretchedness to the objective observer.”

“Do you think it wretched?”

“Well,” Daniel said, winking, “it's a carnival sort of town, but if you're in the right mood, it can be fun.”

“You're in that mood.”

He smiled. “How can you tell?”

In answer to his own question, he hit the accelerator, speeding along the motorway with the windows down. Tamsyn removed her scarf and then laughed as the gust of wind blew her hair about her face.

They arrived in Brighton before noon. Instead of taking her to his parents' house, Daniel drove about showing her the sights: the West Pier; the Grand Hotel, where he had lost his virginity to a chambermaid, though this fact of his personal history he would reveal to no one, especially not Tamsyn Burke; and the insane or possibly romantic Royal Pavilion—he had never decided which. The weather was fine apart from the wind, which whipped her skirts about and repeatedly lashed the ends of her scarf into her eyes. The beach was crowded and he didn't want to swim. It was a day for walking and talking and following whims, a true mini break from their work, such as it was.

She toyed with the ends of the blue scarf and looked at him. “This reminds me of home.”

“Where's home?”

“Llandudno, by the sea. My family is there; everyone but my sister, Carey.”

“Why aren't you there as well?”

“I'm making it big in acting, remember?”

“Yes. We mustn't forget that. Listen, I'm starving. Do we want to find a café or have a bratwurst right here?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“A girl after my own heart,” he said, walking up to a stand. It was hot in the sun and he shielded his eyes, wishing he had his sunglasses with him. He would have to buy a pair in one of the shops.

They ate, perched on a large rock, listening to the sound of the wind whipping the towels of the swimmers farther down on the beach. Tamsyn kicked off her sandals, and when he took the trash to a bin and came back for her, she still hadn't put them on, hooking them instead over a finger and slinging them over her back like a pack.

“There's a French film at the cinema,” he said, toying with the keys in his pocket. “I noticed it when we drove past.”

“Which one? I might have heard of it.”

“Does it matter? They're either wildly sad or wildly funny.”

“Then, let's.”

They sat, at Tamsyn's insistence, near the front of the empty theatre. The film, a drama, was one he had seen before. He preferred foreign films, usually French or Scandinavian; the Danes particularly could emote well on screen; anything as long as it wasn't American, which he often found insipid, or Spanish, which was even worse. There was a peculiar anonymity in going to foreign films as well. He was never approached there, as though people who prefer them desired an intellectual high that could not be achieved if one broke the reverent silence and introspection required after its viewing. Tamsyn, however, was not content with merely watching the film. She whispered some of the lines after they were spoken, as though she were practicing schoolgirl French. He couldn't decide if he found it amusing or annoying, but in any case did not interrupt her, forgetting after a while to read the subtitles and watch the tragedy unfold before him but listening instead to her concentrated repetition:
Tu sais que je t'aime; Je n'oublie pas; Tu es le mien toujours.

Then, after, they walked through the streets to his parents' house, where they were welcomed despite the late hour with cocoa and biscuits as though they were teens who had been out on a first date. Tamsyn ate and drank politely and then went to bed in his old bedroom, no doubt surveying his books and cricket bats and old jackets while he took two spare pillows and a blanket and went to the sofa. There, in the darkness, he thought of the last girl with whom he had slept, a bank employee by the name of Sybil. He'd slept with her in spite of the mild revulsion he'd felt toward someone who would try so desperately to go to bed with a film star, and he showered as soon afterward as possible. He hated being fawned over and decided, then and there, on his mother's sofa, not to go to bed with any more ridiculous girls. He would save himself for someone fresh and original and real, like the girl lying in his childhood bed now. He imagined himself beside her, stroking the tattoo on her ankle and staring out the window at the yellow crescent moon. It was the first time he fell asleep feeling relaxed in a very long time.