The Director's Cut Js Taylor (e reader comics .txt) 📖

on a private runway which backs onto the estate. And within minutes of disembarking, we’re transported to a small complex of cottages.

They’re in view of the enormous Berkeley Hall, but a fair way into the sumptuous grounds. And James takes it upon himself to show us personally to our rooms.

“It’s a little cosier than you’re used to,” he explains, taking in Natalie’s devastated face at the size of the buildings. “But the rooms are very luxurious inside.”

The accommodation is a charming selection of tiny converted cottages, each with plenty of classic English character.

“The crew will be located on another part of the estate,” adds James. “They’ll be nearer the filming, since they’re on set for the longest. Also,” he adds, “mobile phone reception is better over there.”

This strikes me as a consideration which few directors would afford their crew. And I’m reminded of what Callum said about James’s staff being loyal to him.

Natalie’s face twists. “There’s bad phone reception?”

James shrugs. “This is the countryside, Natalie. We only have one mast, which my stepmother lobbied for years to be installed. You can usually make phone calls, but they might be patchy.”

I’m wondering if this is part of James’s plan. Perhaps a lack of good reception will stop leaks getting out. But this can hardly be a long term plan.

I shrug the thought away, turning my attention to the accommodation.

Us actors each have a tiny cottage, and inside are bed and breakfast style rooms, finished to impeccable standard. They’ve been decorated to a five star finish, complete with designer sheets and fixtures.

“Ah, the English countryside!” announces Callum, opening the door to his cottage. “What could be finer?”

I can’t help but agree with him. Berkeley estate is astonishingly green and beautiful. It’s like being on a luxury retreat, rather than a filming shoot.

James leaves Callum, Natalie and Will instructions for where lunch will be served, and then steers me carefully away from the cottages.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he leads me to a pebbled path winding away from the actor’s accommodation.

“My parents have arranged a private lunch for us,” he says. “They are very eager to meet you.”

Meeting his parents. I can just about accept that Berkeley’s family are landed aristocracy. How do I feel about actually meeting them?

My attention turns, in panic, to my clothing. I’m dressed in a sixties style tunic dress, which is a little on the short side, and ballet pumps.

Should I have worn something different? I’m hardly dressed like Kate Middleton.

“You might have warned me,” I hiss. “What about my outfit?”

James chuckles. “You look beautiful,” he says, “what’s the problem?”

“But is it appropriate?” I insist. “I have no idea what to wear. Your father’s a lord.”

“And my stepmother is a lady,” murmurs James, “but they’re still human, underneath it all. Issy, you really have nothing to worry about. I’m proud to introduce you to my parents.”

He turns to face me. “You look lovely,” he says. “And besides. You’re the first girlfriend they’ve ever met. They are especially primed to like you.”

I’m the first girlfriend he’s introduced to his parents?

“Really? I am the first girl?” I ask, surprised. “Ever?”

“Ever.” James nods. “I was not on speaking terms with my father for a long period of my youth. And I never met a girl who I was serious enough about to introduce, in any case,” he adds.

Oh.

“That makes it even more nerve-wracking,” I complain.

“Don’t be silly,” says James. “They are desperate to meet the girl who won my heart.”

I feel my own heart skip in response.

“So tell me about them,” I say cautiously, some of my reserve slipping.

“My stepmother took charge of the cottages,” explains James. “She never accepts anything less than the best, and she’s made them into a real working business. They rent out to tourists for very high sums.”

“She sounds very talented,” I say, wondering whether Lord Berkeley’s fifth wife has something the others don’t.

“She is,” replies James. “And she’s the only one of the bunch who could handle my father. She was an Ambassador for Lithuania. Very intelligent. Very determined. She’s had to put up with all the prejudice, all the snobbish English people, who hear her accent and think she’s an Eastern European gold-digger.”

He shakes his head.

“Really, she’s a marvel,” he says. “She also took Camilla in when her family had money problems. She paid for Camilla’s schooling and made sure she stayed connected to the right circles.”

The right circles. I guess that’s a concern of the landed rich.

“So I guess her and Camilla get on well?”

“Camilla adores her. My stepmother has a motto that family is family, whether it’s by birth or by law. She thinks of Camilla as her own flesh and blood.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” I say.

“She’ll love you,” says James.

“And your father?” My anxieties about meeting a real lord are getting sharper.

“My father,” says James grimly, “will probably be besotted with you.”

We walk in silence for a moment, with nothing but birdsong from the surrounding trees. It really is beautiful here.

“When will we be able to go back to Berkeley Studios?” I find myself asking.

“I don’t know,” says James shortly. Then he seems to catch his tone and adjusts it.

“Soon, I hope,” he adds softly. “Madison has been out in London. We’re building a picture that she has a new romance. Once the papers have bought into that, their attention will be focused on her.”

“Then what happens?” I try and fail to keep the petulance out of my voice. I never realised that dating a famous guy would be so hard.

“In a few weeks, we’ll be off the hook,” he says. “There’ll certainly be a lot of interest in you, as a young and beautiful actress. It wouldn’t be right to announce our relationship whilst filming. But once the premiere is done, we’ll be free to tell who we like.”

Free to tell who we like. Somehow, that possibility seems so far away.

“Ok,” I say, trying for a smile.

“I’m sorry, it’s such a long time