The Doris Day Vintage Film Club. Fiona Harper

There wasn’t any venom left between them. She’d moved on. New husband, twins, a house in the suburbs. And he’d moved on too.

      Hadn’t he?

      Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he clicked on her photos tab. Instantly, scores popped up. Erica out with the girls. Erica cuddling her babies. Erica smiling with her new husband.

      Obviously, he hadn’t had trouble giving her what she wanted, what she needed. What she’d eventually told Dominic he was incapable of.

      You can’t do it, can you? she’d levelled at him. You can’t go anywhere beneath the surface. Or you won’t … and I can’t spend my life with a man like that, a man who refuses to open up to me and doesn’t want me to open up to him. So I’m sorry, Dominic, the answer is no. I can’t – I won’t – marry you. Not unless you can change.

      He closed his eyes and inhaled.

      God help him, he’d tried. Really tried. But it hadn’t been enough for her and eventually she’d left, and he’d just got the offer to do that filming job in Madagascar, so he’d left too. Just started travelling. Hadn’t really, truly come home again. Not in his head and his heart anyway. It was easier this way. Why kill yourself trying to do something you weren’t cut out for? Better to stick to what you were good at, and what he was good at was travelling – and making films.

      He didn’t want it anyway. That’s probably why he was rubbish at long-term anythings.

      With a sigh, he realised he hadn’t been angry with Pete because he’d been wrong, but because he’d been right. He was going to have to apologise, wasn’t he? But Pete would just have to leave it alone after that, not go digging in that wound just because he could. It had been okay to rib each other like that when they’d both been young, free and stupid, but the dynamic had changed now.

      He shook his head, shut Erica’s profile down and turned his computer off. Look who was poking at old wounds just because he could. Pete had nothing to do with his little pity fest just now.

      Stupid man, he told himself. You’re happy as you are.

      But, as he wandered into the kitchen to eat yet another tiny box of cereal – a poor substitution for Ellen’s spag bol – he couldn’t help thinking about what it would be like to have a little mini version of himself like Pete had, and just whether that might plug the growing hole inside him, the one that seemed to widen every time he got on an aeroplane.

Chapter Eight

       Teacher’s Pet

      They’d already started watching the film when Claire heard someone slide in the door and shuffle into a seat at the back. She waited a few moments then glanced nonchalantly over her shoulder.

      Abby. That was a surprise. When she’d been absent at the usual start time, Claire had assumed they’d seen the last of her.

      As Teacher’s Pet rolled on, Claire found her thoughts returning to the newest member of the Doris Day Film Club more than once. Although Abby seemed out of place in their little group, Claire couldn’t help thinking that maybe fate had brought her their way. There was a lost quality about her that made Claire think of a scared stray animal.

      If Abby’s mother was as demanding as she sounded, Claire suspected they were on a losing mission right from the start. However, Abby had come to them for help, and for that reason alone they would try. Doris herself would almost certainly approve – although the strays she championed since her retirement from Hollywood tended to be the furry, four-legged kind.

      In a strange way, Abby reminded Claire of the Clark Gable character in Teacher’s Pet. He played a ‘tough as nails’ journalist who had a chip on his shoulder about other people getting the education he’d been denied. While Claire didn’t think Abby had a chip on her shoulder about being a girl, she’d done what the hard-nosed newspaper man had done – instead of trying, she’d just given up and turned her comfort zone into a fortress.

      ‘God, how I love that film,’ Candy said, as the lights went back on again and the credits rolled. ‘I love the fact that Doris was playing intelligent career women who could hold their own against any man back in the late fifties, before it was really fashionable. That scene where she tells Clark Gable off in the lift is pure gold dust.’

      Bev and Maggs murmured their agreement.

      ‘Despite the huge age gap between Clark and Doris, it still works as a romance,’ Peggy said, joining the discussion. ‘The characters are unusually three-dimensional for a romantic comedy.’

      Kitty giggled. ‘My favourite bit is when Clark kisses Doris in her office, taking her by surprise, and her legs buckle under her when she walks back to her desk.’

      Grace sighed. ‘I want to be kissed like that one day.’

      Everyone turned and looked at her. It was the most she’d said all evening.

      ‘Don’t we all,’ Maggs added dryly, and the whole room had a chuckle, including Abby, who then flushed and looked at the floor.

      Claire stood up. ‘Before we all head off tonight, I want us to put our heads together and see if we can find a way to help our newest member.’ She glanced at Abby, who now looked as if she was about to slide off her seat and under the table. Claire understood the urge to squirm when one was the focus of attention better than anyone, but there wasn’t any other way, and this was what Abby had asked of them, after all.

      ‘Watching films is all well and good, and we all know Doris had impeccable style, but I think we probably have it within our small group to offer some practical help too.’ She turned to look at Candy specifically, who had a very sensible head on her shoulders and always looked stylish, but Kitty started bouncing in her seat.

      ‘We’d love to help, wouldn’t we, Grace?’

      Grace nodded coolly.

      ‘We’ve already talked about it,’ Kitty added.

      Abby looked warily from one to the other. ‘You have?’

      The vintage girls, both in red and white polka dots this week – Kitty with white on red, Grace with red on white – looked at each other before continuing.

      ‘If you’d let us … We’d really like to give you a makeover.’

      Abby looked shocked, as if she’d just been announced the next Miss Universe, and maybe just as tearful. ‘You’d do that? For me?’

      Both girls nodded. ‘You’d be helping us really. We love doing makeovers,’ Kitty said, ‘but Grace says she’s getting bored doing them on just me. What we really need is a fresh canvas.’

      ‘Fresh meat, more like,’ Maggs muttered under her breath.

      ‘Are you up for it?’ Kitty asked, nodding encouragingly.

      ‘Um … I think so.’

      ‘Great!’ Kitty said, clapping her hands together. ‘How about we do it before the next film club meeting?

      Abby looked nervously between them. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

      ‘We’re going to have so much fun,’ Kitty said brightly, as she stood up, and she and Grace linked arms and scurried away, plotting furiously as they disappeared down the stairs.

      The rest of the club members started to drift after them, but before Abby escaped, Claire went over to her. ‘Are you okay with the whole makeover idea? It’s fine to say if you’re not.’

      Abby looked grim for a few long moments. ‘I’m as fine as I’m ever going to be with it, and I’ll never get those tickets if I don’t, so I suppose I’ll just have to do it, no matter how I feel about it.’

      ‘Is