The Show: Racy, pacy and very funny!. Тилли Бэгшоу

out laughing.

      Gabe looked hurt. ‘What?’

      ‘Well, for one thing, we cannot call it Wraggsbottom Farm.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Why not? Because it’s an awful, awful name.’

      ‘It’s the name this farm has lived by for well over a hundred years,’ Gabe said pompously.

      ‘I’m sorry darling,’ said Laura. ‘But no. And I won’t let you present it either if you’re going to do that dreadful American newsreader voice.’

      Gabe pouted. ‘That was my sexy voice.’

      ‘No, it wasn’t. Trust me.’

      They sat in silence for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, thinking about what the future might hold. Laura didn’t know whether to feel delighted that she’d talked Gabe round, or terrified because, if they really went ahead with this, it would all be on her shoulders. If the show was a disaster, or – heaven forbid – the farm itself suffered as a result, she would never forgive herself. It was a great idea. But it was also a big risk.

      ‘Raising money won’t be easy, you know,’ she said, swirling the remnants of her drink contemplatively around her glass. ‘If we can’t find investors, we’d have to team up with a bigger production company or a network. There’d be no other way.’

      Gabe stood up, stretched and opened the larder. Pulling out a family-sized bag of Doritos, he burst them open with a loud bang.

      ‘Don’t be such a pessimist,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Of course we’ll find an investor. You said yourself it was a great idea.’

      Laura wasn’t sure what frightened her more. Having Gabe against the idea or having him for it. In five minutes flat he’d gone from ‘it can’t possibly work’ to ‘it can’t possibly fail’. Sometimes his black-and-white nature terrified her.

      ‘Anyway, I’ve already thought of an investor,’ he announced blithely. ‘He’s local, he’s rich and he’s looking for a new business venture. I know that for a fact ’cause I heard it down the pub.’

      Laura looked sceptical. ‘Who?’

      ‘Eddie Wellesley.’

      Laura choked so hard that tonic bubbles flew out of her nose.

      ‘Fast Eddie?’

      ‘Uh-huh.’

      ‘What does he know about television?’

      Gabe shrugged. ‘He’s been on it a fair bit. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You know about television. Wellesley just needs to write a cheque.’

      Laura Baxter watched her husband stuffing crisps into his mouth and felt overwhelmed with love. I’m so happy with him, she thought.

      For a moment she felt a flicker of anxiety at the prospect of the two of them working together. In the unlikely event that this show actually took off, would they end up getting on each other’s nerves? But she pushed the thought aside. We’re doing this for our future. For the boys.

      Besides, these would all be good problems to have. What Laura needed now was a hit show and a way out of the trap John Bingham had laid for her. And what Gabe needed was a new roof for the big barn. Short of planting some magic beans and kidnapping a golden goose, this was the only way.

      ‘D’you really think Eddie Wellesley might be interested?’ she asked Gabe.

      He answered through a mouthful of Doritos.

      ‘Only one way to find out.’

      Eddie leaned back in his red brocade armchair, an amused look on his face.

      ‘So you want me to back you?’

      Laura blushed scarlet. How had she let Gabe talk her into this?

      She was sitting in the library at Riverside Hall, a stunning, oak-panelled room lined with gold-leafed hardbacks and beautifully preserved first editions that Laura was quite certain were never read. Fast Eddie was more attractive in the flesh than she’d expected. Perhaps it was the half-suppressed smile, or the playful twinkle in his eye, but there was something innately flirtatious and fun about him that somehow made Laura feel even more embarrassed.

      ‘I’m so sorry, Sir Edward, I shouldn’t have come.’ She stood up. ‘I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time.’

      ‘First of all, it’s Eddie. And second of all, please sit down. You haven’t wasted my time at all. It’s not often I have beautiful young women come to me with business propositions.’

      Laura sat.

      ‘Tell me more about the show,’ said Eddie. ‘I think it has to be about more than just farming life.’

      ‘Oh, it would be,’ Laura assured him. ‘The Swell Valley is unique. I imagine you know that already, as you moved here. People have always been fascinated by this area, by the combination of the rural idyll and the celebrity residents. The scandals.’ She avoided meeting his eye. ‘Tatiana Flint-Hamilton, Brett Cranley, Emma Harwich, Santiago de la Cruz. They’re all synonymous with the valley. So yes, we’re showing farming life, but we’re also trying to package what it is that makes this place so special. It’s a nostalgic snapshot of England, if you like: what England used to be, what we all still wish it were.’

      ‘Like a Richard Curtis film, but in a reality format,’ Eddie mused.

      Laura looked delighted. ‘Exactly! That’s it exactly.’

      ‘All right,’ said Eddie. ‘So how would it work, if I were to fund this? What would I get for my investment? Talk me through the nuts and bolts.’

      He listened intently as Laura explained the process of producing a television series. She’s bright, he thought, and ambitious. And sexy. He noticed the way her dark hair continually fell forward over her face and her breasts rose and fell quickly beneath her silk shirt when she became animated. She had very little make-up on and was simply dressed in a grey woollen skirt and a cream blouse. Eddie was a fan of the effortless look.

      After ten minutes of straight talking, Laura finally drew breath. ‘So. What do you think?’

      ‘I think it’s intriguing,’ said Eddie. ‘I’ll give it some thought and come back to you.’

      He stood up and offered Laura his hand.

      ‘Oh. Right. OK,’ she stammered. ‘Thanks.’

      She hadn’t expected such an abrupt end to the meeting, and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She was still standing there like a lemon, her hand clasped in Eddie’s, when his wife walked in carrying a tray of tea.

      Lady Wellesley took in the scene – a beautiful young woman, her husband in flirt-mode – and shot Laura a look that could have melted stone.

      Christ, Laura thought. Penny wasn’t kidding. She really is intimidating.

      ‘Ah, darling.’ Releasing Laura, Eddie wrapped an arm around his wife’s stiff, distrustful shoulders. ‘How sweet of you to bring us tea. But Mrs Baxter was just leaving.’

      ‘What a shame,’ said Annabel, in a tone that clearly translated as good riddance.

      ‘I’ll see myself out,’ Laura mumbled awkwardly.

      Had the meeting gone well or badly? She couldn’t tell. Driving home, she wondered whether going into business with a politician might be more trouble than it was worth, especially if his wife disapproved. When it came to poker faces, Eddie Wellesley was a master.

      Two days passed. Then three. Then four.

      By Friday morning, Laura’s ‘work-from-home’ day, she and Gabe had still heard nothing from Eddie.

      ‘It’s dead in the water,’ said