The Director's Cut by Js Taylor (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud txt) 📕

I wonder how long it took them to be on speaking terms.

I remember what Ben told me. That when James was a drug user, his father had made it clear he wasn’t welcome at Berkeley Hall.

Between being blamed for his mother’s death and being sent to boarding school, I would imagine that relations with his father would be permanently strained. But it looks as though they get on.

I return my attention to Camilla. Maybe now is the time to ask about Ben.

“Listen,” I say, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, Cam. I thought that Ben Gracey might know something about the leak. But James seems to think he has some hold over Ben. Do you know anything about that?”

I see Camilla’s cheeks turn pink, and I instantly regret asking.

Then she sighs and rests her hand on mine.

“Ok, look, don’t tell anyone,” she says, looking at me, pleadingly. “Remember I told you Ben and I had a romance gone wrong?”

She closes her eyes, as though the memory is painful.

“It was a little more than that.”

I squeeze her fingers, letting her know I feel for her.

“Ben Gracey,” she says, with a long sigh. “I wish I’d never met him.”

Camilla shakes her head, and a strand of her mussed blonde hair falls over her features.

“I was barely sixteen when we met,” she continues. “I was at an event organised by Lady Berkeley. Ben was older, and handsome. And of course I had a little crush. But I never thought anything of it, until Ben started pursuing me.”

I make a silent calculation in my head. As I figure it, Ben must have been at least ten years older than Camilla.

“Lady Berkeley was taking care of me,” continues Camilla. “So Ben assumed that I was from a moneyed family. Because I had access to the debutante events.”

“But you weren’t?” I ask. I always assumed Camilla was old money.

She shakes her head. “My father has a title. But he also had a gambling problem, when I was younger. Our estate was almost broken up and sold. It was only down to the Berkeley’s help that we still have it.” She raises an eyebrow. “Even though it’s mortgaged up to the hilt,” she adds.

Camilla sighs.

“Ben said all the right things, made all the romantic gestures,” she says. “I was straight out of an all girl’s school. To me, it was like a fairy tale come true. And I fell head over heels.”

She looks down at the table and pauses for a moment.

“Ben assumed, if he seduced me, that my parents would pressure me to marry him,” she continues in a quiet little voice. She shakes her head. “My parents might be titled, but they would never expect me to marry a man just because I’d lost my virginity to him.”

“But you loved Ben?” I guess.

“Yes,” Camilla nods. “I fell really hard. Lucky for me, James found out what was going on, before anything happened. He confronted Ben. Told him to back off. Ben refused.”

Camilla sighs again. “I hated James, at the time,” she admits. “I thought Ben and I were in love, and James was coming between us.” Her hand squeezes mine, and she swallows.

“Then James offered Ben money,” she says, “to leave me. I never, in a million years, thought Ben would accept. But he did.”

Her blue eyes flicker to mine, and I see the real pain there.

“That’s when I knew,” she says. “That James had been right about Ben all along. I was heartbroken. I had this dream that Ben was The One, and my first time would be perfect. Pretty silly, I guess.”

I take both her hands, keeping my voice low.

“You listen to me, Cam,” I say. “Nothing you did was stupid or silly. Ben Gracey is a pathetic liar who will get what’s coming to him.”

Camilla gives me a faint smile.

“I just wish I didn’t feel it all so strongly,” she admits, her eyes sweeping mine.

“You just wait,” I tell her, “when the right man comes along, you’ll be glad of that open heart of yours. Ben is closed up, and broken. And he’ll never know happiness like you will.”

Camilla’s fingers are still holding mine.

“Thanks, Issy,” she whispers. Her eyes are bright.

“You’ll find someone amazing,” I add.

“I really hope so,” she says.

“I know so,” I say, determinedly. “You’ll see.”

Lady Berkeley returns to the room, clutching a photo album, and Camilla shrieks with sudden delight.

“Oh my God!” she gasps. “You have to see these, Issy. There are some of James in there. He is sooo cute.”

She grabs the album from a smiling Lady Berkeley.

“James!” calls Camilla. “Eliza’s brought the pictures out.”

James turns to us.

“Oh no.” He’s shaking his head. “You can’t show her that. She’ll leave me.”

“Oh no, she won’t,” says Eliza. “You were the cutest little boy. I just wish I had been around then to see it.” Something in her expression looks sad, and I wonder how much she knew about James and his father’s history.

“Here we are,” Camilla is saying. She flips open the album, and the first picture is a grainy shot of a baby in a flowing christening gown.

“Baby James,” announces Camilla. “Wearing a dress.”

She turns the page, and the next shot is of a little boy, aged three or so. He’s holding the hand of an exotic-looking woman, who must be his mother. And the background contains palm trees, so I’m guessing the picture was taken in Mauritius.

My eyes settle on James’s face. His green eyes are alive, delighted. Even though he’s so young, I can still see a little of his personality. It reminds me of our time together in the Barcelona park, when he was so happy and carefree.

I feel myself smiling. Then James is at my shoulder, leaning over at the shot.

“Is that your mother?” I ask, pointing at the woman in the shot.

“Yes.” His voice is full of happy sentiment.

“She’s beautiful,” I murmur, taking in the large brown eyes and lustrous sweep of dark hair.

Camilla leans forward