Page 6 of A Change of Location
Although Martin’s pied-à-terre was a luxury, not a necessity, he wouldn’t relinquish it. Almost weekly, Dan forwarded lavish purchase offers from upper crust estate agents with covetous clients, or developers with grandiose and destructive plans, but he declined them all. Someday his mother might return to England, and though she tolerated rather than relished London, changes to her health might make living here expedient. Besides, he felt responsible for maintaining the centuries-long Latimer link to the building.
At the onset of World War II, after the government had requisitioned both country houses, his intrepid great-grandmother remained at Latimer House, ever attentive to the news bulletins on the wireless, alert to possible clues about her husband’s location at the front. Whenever German bombs rained upon the city, she and her servants took up their gas masks and descended to the subterranean boiler room. When the war was over, she made her way to the train station to welcome her returning hero, whose uniform was adorned with multiple medals for meritorious service.
In due course, their son inherited the place, discarding all traces of his flighty marchioness after she deserted him for a not-so-secret lover. Although his near neighbors decamped to modest digs, he stayed on, tended by his equally aged servants, attending the House of Lords and dining at one of several prestigious clubs to which he belonged.
Martin’s mobile, silent since the brief dialogue with Hannah Ballard, buzzed with an incoming voicemail. After two listens, it persisted in confounding him.
“Mart—Jess. Dreadful news. A hack from Posh has been hounding me incessantly for juicy quotes about you. Unbelievably pushy. And she wants photos. I refuse her every request. You know how persistent those gossip trollops can be! Consider this a warning to lie low. Or are you already hiding out at Stanwell?”
He and Jessica had paired up in a casual way before he became seriously involved with Natalie, and they maintained a fond and easy friendship. Her concern about an interview request from a glossy fashion and society magazine struck him as excessive. Precisely how this related to him, or her, or them, he couldn’t comprehend.
Chapter 3
Lord Milverston had stood her up. The rat!
Wincott & Sons was represented by Karl, a blond Nordic god with a sexy Scandinavian accent. He’d supplied Hannah with ample food and wine, as well as bottles of champagne she didn’t recall ordering. His equally presentable uniformed colleague arranged trays with cheese and biscuits and fruit, replenishing them as needed. At the moment, the pair were circulating with trays of pink salmon slivers on little pieces of crustless bread. She hadn’t requested the fish, either.
Concerns about low attendance had been unnecessary. In response to her urgent pleas, her cousin Will had arrived with an entourage. They had signaled news of abundant alcohol and available women to their acquaintances. She saw manicured thumbs tapping mobiles and fluting voices alerting office mates about the presence of male guests. Her modest gathering had morphed into something noisier—and more potent—than she’d intended.
While tilting her phone to frame an artsy shot of a floral arrangement, she was distracted by a plummy British voice saying, “I’m here to register a complaint.” She spun around.
“About what?”
The marquess grinned. “Depictions of English twenty- and thirty-something in films. Grossly misleading. All so gorgeous, witty, well-dressed, and matey as hell. They hold no jobs yet reside in up-market neighborhoods like Snogging Hill and Westbourne. They bang on about their love lives at dinner parties. And though they seem to be utterly devoid of family ties, they’re forever turning up at weddings. Or funerals.”
“Because that’s what American audiences expect you to do,” Hannah replied, retrieving her glass. “Go ahead, tell me all about your reality. How do upper-class Brits pass their time?”
“Abusing alcohol and less lawful substances. Smashing up expensive motorcars. Submitting to detox regimes. Nattering to therapists. Maxing out credit cards. Faffing about with cryptocurrency. Not me, personally,” he was quick to add.
“People in overseas territories get a skewed representation of Americans. We aren’t all action heroes or soldiers or addicts or sexpots.” Conscious of a waspish edge to her voice, she said, “Sorry if I sound defensive. I’m suffering from a case of social anxiety.”
“Perhaps you should drink something stronger than sparkling water, to buck you up.”
“I did. Karl looked so devastated when I declined to sample his wine that I had a couple of sips. I couldn’t refuse a man who looks like that.”
He surveyed the humming throng. “You lured me here under false pretenses. The place is heaving with blokes.”
“I panicked and called in reinforcements. My violinist cousin—chatting up the redhead—brought along a few of his colleagues from the symphony. You might say fostering relationships is an essential aspect of my job.”
“You’re a matchmaker?”
She laughed. “Yes, but not that kind. I’m a location finder—a scout, as we say in the States. Recently promoted to location manager.” She still got a charge of pleasure from announcing her title. “For the film currently in pre-production, I’m heading our Locations Department.”
“Impressive.”
“Not to people in the industry, although it’s a crucial function. Massive responsibility.” She’d discover how much more at the end of the summer. Her present tasks were routine and familiar, easily transferable to a different country. “My name will appear in the closing credits. Somewhere in the middle, after Postproduction Accountant and before Extras Casting. My guests are personnel from the film location company making recommendations of suitable sites. Tomorrow I start touring the ones that match my chief criteria: picturesque, photogenic, and period correct. With ideal logistics.”
“What sort of movie?”
“Historical epic, eighteenth century. My mission is identifying the perfect house to shoot in and around.”
“Looking for a stately home, are you?”
Hannah nodded. “Preferably with a scenic village close by. And a great deal more. Not that I expect to find everything we need all in one place. Typically, we shoot in multiple locations and the footage gets seamlessly mushed together in the editing process. After I’ve assessed recommended sites, I select the ones that suit the project and present them to the producer, the director, and department heads.”
“Who’s starring?”
“Casting announcements will be strategically timed for maximum impact.” Smiling, she added, “If you stop asking questions I’m not allowed to answer, I’ll put you on the ticket list for our London premiere.”
