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CHAPTER ONE
‘“FORNEVERWASa story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”’
For one breathless moment the silence seemed overwhelming and then, like one of the waves crashing onto the shore behind her, loud applause rang out. Clemence Beaumont lay perfectly still for one last second as the still-real emotion swirled through her and then, as reality started to return, she raised her head and allowed Ed, her co-star, to pull her to her feet, letting the dagger fall to the floor. Taking his hand, she walked to the front of the curved stage, the rest of the cast falling in behind them, and bowed. Straightening with a grin, she took in the audience for the first time since she’d stepped onto the stage in answer to the nurse’s call.
Semicircular seating rose up away from the stage, the outdoor theatre more amphitheatre than traditional auditorium, respectably full for an amateur fundraising performance. Clem bowed again as the whoops and cheers rang out, the welcome and much-missed post-performance adrenaline flooding her veins. Blinking, she started to make out individuals in the crowd: her best friend, Sally, who must have found a babysitter after all; Mrs Atkins, her favourite primary school teacher, beaming away; Mr Reynolds, her English teacher, nodding at her in approval, he adored Shakespeare and tried to make sure all his pupils did too; her neighbour Trinny, dressed to the nines as always; her sister...
Hang on.Her gaze skittered back. Hersister? Arrosa washere, in Cornwall? How had she managed to get away—not just get away but also seemingly alone? Clem couldn’t see her bodyguard anywhere although she knew Henri couldn’t be far behind. Arrosa hadn’t gone out in public without the special-service-trained protection officer in the last decade.
Her seatmates didn’t seem to have recognised her although her face regularly adorned front pages and gossip sites, probably thanks to the hat pulled low over her sleek, dark curls and the thick-rimmed glasses shading her face, but Clem would have recognised her in twice the disguise. After all, a similar face looked out at her from the mirror every morning. The sisters shared the same cheekbones and nose, the same dimples and long-lashed hazel eyes. But whereas Arrosa was a princess, legitimate daughter of King Zorien of Asturia, Clem was the unplanned result of a gap-year romance, her existence hidden away from half her family and the country her father ruled. A country she had never even visited.
She continued to bow and smile mechanically, but her mind was no longer on the performance and applause. What onearthwas her sister doing here? Clem had sent her an invite of course, but she hadn’t actually expected her to come. She never had before. It was hard for Arrosa to get away.
Finally, the applause came to an end and the cast filed backstage, chattering loudly as the post-production euphoria spread through all the crew and actors.
‘Everyone back to ours,’ Ed proclaimed, his arm around Tybalt, normally known as Tom and Ed’s other half. ‘Clem? Ready to party?’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to...’ she started, and his face softened.
‘You were sensational tonight, Clem, and you should celebrate. I know it’s not the same, but she’d want you to.’
Not the same without her mother, he meant. Simone Beaumont had produced and directed many of the village plays, been at the forefront of the restoration campaign that had transformed the neglected open-air theatre. If she were still alive she would be spearheading the Save Our Theatre battle against a local developer who wanted to change the beloved community asset into yet another commercial venture catering to tourists. Her mother had loved a cause. Clem had lost count of all her campaigns and passions long ago. It had used to infuriate her, feeling that her own feelings and needs came second to whatever—or whoever—her mother was championing at the time, but now she would give anything to walk into the kitchen and see her mother furiously making a placard—Save the Seals,Save the Birds,Clean up the Sewage,Save our Post Office. Simone Beaumont. Champion of the underdog.
‘We’ll give you a lift,’ Tom added, but Clem shook her head.
‘I’ll try and make it, but I think I saw my cousin in the audience.’
‘Bring them along.’
‘I’ll see what she says. We don’t see each other often so she may want to catch up at home. Enjoy the party. You were both brilliant tonight, thank you.’ She kissed both men on the cheek and headed off to change. She’d been looking forward to the post-show celebration but knew her promise to try and make it wouldn’t be fulfilled. It had been a long time since Arrosa had dared to be seen publicly with her, or even attend a party without prior clearance; her half-sister might have the title, a luxurious lifestyle, more money than Clem could imagine, and a real relationship with their father, but Clem knew she had a freedom Arrosa could never have.
She changed quickly and removed her stage make-up and within fifteen minutes she made her way out of the theatre to walk the short distance home. She’d been born and brought up in the pretty coastal village her mother had moved to after she’d found out that her lover wasn’t just a fellow student at the Sorbonne, but a prince with an arranged marriage due to take place imminently. Three months after moving to Cornwall Simone gave birth alone in a strange town—and six months later the birth of a new princess was celebrated in Asturia. Clem couldn’t imagine how alone her mother must have felt, an orphan, single mother and betrayed lover. But she knew that Simone had loved the curve of the harbour, the pretty fishermen’s cottages that clustered up the cliff, the wide sweep of beach, and Clem did too; she wouldn’t swap her home for any palace. Which was a good thing because here she was, recalled home by her mother’s long, lingering illness.
In the six months since her mother had died Clem had toyed with the idea of returning to London, to keep trying to make it as a professional actress, but making any decision seemed too hard, her grief still paralyzingly raw. In a world where she had no one, leaving the familiarity of home was more than she could manage.
She turned in at the small path that led to the cottage Zorien had bought them all those years ago. Clem hadn’t been able to bring herself to change a thing. Her mother’s clothes still hung in her wardrobe; her wax jacket swung from her peg in the hallway.
Arrosa had her own key and when Clem walked into the sitting room, her sister was curled up on the sofa. She’d discarded the hat and glasses, her long dark curls tumbling free, her expression thoughtful and more than a little wistful as she stared into the unlit fireplace. She looked up as Clem opened the door, jumping to her feet and rushing over to give Clem a warm hug.
‘It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, Rosy, but what on earth are you doing here?’ Clem asked as she accepted a glass of the excellent wine Arrosa had brought with her and inspected the delicious array of goodies spread out on the coffee table, more crammed inside the Fortnum & Mason’s hamper by her feet. She selected a piece of cheese and sat back.
‘Apart from watching my sister play Juliet? Clem, you were brilliant.’ Arrosa’s English was perfect thanks to a British nanny and five years in an English boarding school, with no trace of an accent unless she was emotional or excited. Which was a shame. Clem loved her sister’s accent, a reminder of the country she had never known. The small and much contested independent kingdom was positioned between France and Spain and the dialect was close to French, but the accent owed more to their Spanish neighbour.
‘You’ve never come to see me act before.’
Arrosa curled back up on the sofa. ‘I wish I had. Clem, I’m so sorry I didn’t come to Simone’s funeral. I loved her so much, but...’
‘That’s okay, she would have understood. And you sent such beautiful flowers.’
‘But you’re my sister, I should have been there for you.’
‘It’s hard for you to get away. I know that.’ But Clem had looked for her that long, sad day and her absence had hurt. Clem wasn’t lying, shedidunderstand the restrictions on their relationship, but there were times she was tired of being the skeleton in the family cupboard. Of shouldering life’s burdens alone.
‘It was easier when we were children. Especially when I was at school and could spend my exeat weekends here as well as some of the holidays.’
Some people might have found it strange that Simone had agreed to Zorien’s request that Arrosa spend time with them anonymously, posing as Clem’s cousin so that she could get to know her sister, but Simone, with her trick of embracing lost causes, had taken one look at Arrosa and enfolded her into the family. ‘A palace is no place to raise a child,’ she would say. ‘She needs some fun, to be allowed to run wild.’ And run wild they had, long halcyon beach days drenched in sun and sea.
Halcyon days that had ended as they’d left their teens and Arrosa had had to take on state duties. Now they barely got the chance to meet, their long weekly phone calls their sole communication.
