A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

I looked up at him nonchalantly, or as nonchalantly as it was possible to when you’re hanging onto a window ledge with one leg stretched up as far as it will go, while also wearing a hideous maid’s costume. ‘I thought you might need a hand.’

‘Don’t be daft. Go round the front and warn them that I’m going to try and kick the door down.’ His head disappeared again and I stood there for a second, absolutely furious with myself for suggesting it, with Tony for agreeing to it (although that was also my fault because I’d badgered him into it), but most of all with Faith for being a much more attractive prospect for any man than a penniless single mum with a failing business and a muffin top currently straining against a brown hessian shift dress. Not that I cared.

The locksmith was packing up and Lucy was in discussion with a couple of crew members, while Jeremy stood around looking manly but ultimately useless.

‘We could try and take the door off its hinges and lift it off,’ said one of them, doubtfully.

‘No need,’ I said. ‘You’d better stand back.’ Lucy looked at me, but before she could speak there came a howl from inside the caravan, like a cross between a constipated Bruce Lee and a banshee, and the door burst open. Tony’s momentum carried him through the doorway after it and he hurtled into the air, missing the steps that led from the door down to the ground and careering into me. I staggered back under his weight but he somehow managed to stay upright and hold onto me at the same time, pulling me into his arms before I ended up on the grass.

‘Oh, my hero!’ Faith stood in the doorway. She held a suspiciously flattering pose, half-turned to the side and draped against the door frame, with the light streaming through the open window behind her providing a warm glow, almost an aura, around her. She made sure everyone had seen her at her best (or was that just me being mean?) before stepping out of the caravan and rushing over to Tony. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes,’ said Tony, unceremoniously letting go of me. ‘No bones broken.’

‘Oh, I’m so glad. It was so good of you to come and rescue me.’ She threaded her arm through his. ‘Do come and have some lunch, we must keep your strength up.’

For WHAT? I thought. I glared at Tony. ‘I’m fine too, thanks for asking.’

Faith turned to me with a smile on her face, but I no longer trusted it. ‘Of course, Jodie, thank you for your help. Now, let’s get some lunch.’ And with that she led Tony away.

Chapter Four

I pulled my jeans and hoodie back on and left the wardrobe caravan without looking back. The morning had been imbued with far less Hollywood glamour than I’d been expecting.

With Faith now released from her caravan incarceration, filming could start, but so much time had been wasted that the director had decided to film a different scene and do the ballroom one the next day. My band of domestics had been let go, but Debbie had been asked to stay and had been given another gorgeous dress to wear. It also appeared that Tony was Faith’s new favourite person on set (even if he was just a lowly extra) and I thought it was only a matter of time before my jokey prediction of him being given a couple of lines to say came true.

Bloody film people, I muttered to myself. I was glad to be out of it. I was in such a hurry that I jumped in the car and shoved it into reverse without looking properly.

‘Oi!’ There was a shout and someone banged against the side of the car with their hand. I swore under my breath and looked up as they came over to the driver’s window … straight into the (rather dreamy) eyes of Zack Smith…

I wound down my window, blushing, mortified. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you…’ How could anyone not see HIM? He held up a hand to stop me.

‘It’s all right. It weren’t me; it was this little one.’ He bent down and picked up a dog, one of those small, yappy, long-haired, rat-looking things – a Pekinese, I thought. Not a patch on my Pomeranian. ‘My co-star’s dog. I said I’d walk it for her while she’s in Make-Up but between you and me, it’s a right bloody nightmare. And I can’t get the hang of this…’ He was holding the same sort of lead I had for Germaine – the extendable type. The dog wriggled and yapped in his arms and he put it down, glaring at it. ‘It keeps running off and I can’t stop the lead getting longer.’ The dog made a dash for it again and he reached down to grab it by the collar. It was dark-pink leather and covered in glittering diamanté stones.

I opened the car door, making him step back, and reached out for the lead.

‘I’ve got the same sort for my dog,’ I said, reeling the nylon leash in and clicking the locking button on the plastic housing. ‘Here. You just click this on and off to lock it to the length you want.’ I smiled, remembering that I’d had exactly the same problem with Germaine when I’d inherited her. She’d belonged to Tony’s late ex-wife, she of the body-in-the-shrubbery, and I’d somehow ended up with her; reluctantly at first, but it hadn’t taken long (about five minutes of staring into her cute, foxy little face) for me to fall in love with her. ‘These little dogs are usually pretty intelligent and they tend to be good at escaping. What’s her name?’

‘It’s called Princess.’

‘Stop calling her ‘it’!’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t like it if someone referred to you as ‘it’.’

He smiled. ‘No, I wouldn’t. You’re right. I just ain’t used to dogs. You