round. ‘Knows every single little Jenkins drama.’

‘The break-up, too?’ he asked.

I shrugged. ‘When you live in a tiny village, some things can’t be hidden, as hard as you try.’

‘You’re telling me,’ he snorted. ‘I live in LA and I can’t take a leak without the whole world knowing.’

I eyed him from the cooker. ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’

‘Does it bother me?’ He rubbed the back of his neck in thought. ‘It never used to, but with Jessica growing up I’m finding it harder to protect her, you know?’

‘Do I ever,’ I agreed.

*

As it turned out, my diagnosis of Jessica was right. Brian came quickly, visited her and snapped his bag shut. ‘Chickenpox it is.’

‘Damn,’ Luke said.

‘No worries. Just don’t let her scratch.’

‘Thanks, Doctor,’ Luke said and Brian turned and stared at him with sudden interest.

‘Are you…?’

Luke smiled. ‘Yes, it’s me.’

Brian put a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him forward as if to kiss him. But Brian had no interest in movies.

‘As I suspected. You have it, too, I can already see a few spots. Bed rest and plenty of Nina’s chicken soup.’

‘What?’ Luke said. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’

Brian turned to me. ‘Nina?’

I could see a couple of spots I hadn’t noticed earlier. ‘I’m on it,’ I promised.

After Brian left, I marched Luke upstairs and put him in Ben’s room and Ben up with me, grateful for an excuse to cuddle my baby.

‘Get into bed. And don’t scratch if you don’t want to ruin that Hollywood face.’ I giggled.

‘This is ridiculous. I’m perfectly fine.’

But when I brought him his chicken soup twenty minutes later, he was sprawled on the mattress as if he’d been steamrolled.

‘You okay?’ I said as I set down the tray on Ben’s night table.

‘I suddenly feel like a sack of shit,’ he groaned in a feeble voice.

‘You’ll be fine. Eat this.’

‘Not hungry…’

‘Eat. I’m going to give Jessica hers now.’

He groaned again. ‘Don’t tell her I’ve got it. She’ll worry.’

‘You’ll both be fine.’

‘And you?’ he croaked.

‘We’ve all had it, don’t worry. Now eat.’

Conte Hospital was now officially open.

*

As it turned out, Luke O’Hara was the patient from hell. He was uncomfortable, hot, cranky, thirsty, impatient. But worst of all, he insisted on working in his waking hours, which were not that many, luckily for me. So instead of banging away on my laptop prepping the outline for the next scenes by myself, something even a four-year-old could do, I had to sit in Ben’s armchair with a pad and paper while Luke dictated his tips to me.

Some were very clever, others a little clichéd. Rather cheesy, really.

‘What do you think?’ he asked, taking a sip of water and closing his eyes, finally exhausted into semi-silence.

How to be honest without seeming to be rude or ungrateful? ‘It’s a little… formulaic.’

He opened an eye. ‘Exactly what I was aiming for.’

‘But do we want our audience to guess the ending, Luke? Don’t we want to be a bit more, I don’t know, imaginative?’

‘Nina, formulas work. That’s what Hollywood is built on.’

‘But what about the unexpected? The beloved twist?’

‘You mean Stella ending up with Aidan? I think she should go with Dylan the playboy. There’s much more scope for imagination there.’

Hang on a minute. Was he trying to change the ending? ‘But… but what about Stella being true to herself?’

Luke closed his eyes and groaned. ‘I’m boiling, Nina. Would you mind checking my temperature?’

I closed my mouth and got out Ben’s electric thermometer. He was boiling, all right, so I went into the bathroom and soaked a washcloth with freezing water and gently replaced it on his forehead. He opened an eye briefly.

‘You see? We’re getting on like a house on fire, Nina…’

That was exactly what I was worried about – me setting him on fire if he insisted on changing everything, even the ending.

*

After three weeks of nursing a cranky Hollywood star and a lovely teenage girl who was polite and appreciative of everything we did, they were as good as new. But as they were packing to return to their inn, I realised that it wasn’t practical for them to drive all the way back and forth every day. Besides, we had already broken the ice. So I took a long shot and bit the bullet.

‘I think you and Jessica should stay with us.’

Luke looked at me, eyebrows raised. ‘Are you serious?’ was all he said.

Oh God, I knew it. It was a horrible idea. There was no way I could offer him the comforts he was used to in his LA mansion. What was I going to cook for him? Soup for the sick was one thing, but three square meals every day? I didn’t know what he liked and didn’t like. Was he a meat and potatoes man, or a pasta freak? Who knew? And would he still want to sleep in a little boy’s bed when he could have luxury service at his inn?

Chloe took Jessica’s hand. ‘Oh, Dad, can we?’ Jessica begged. ‘Please?’

Luke smiled at Chloe’s sincere display of affection for his daughter, scratched the stubble on his cheek and then turned to me with a huge grin. ‘We’d absolutely love to, Nina. Thank you so much.’

I exhaled. ‘Jessica can continue staying with Chloe, and you can stay in Ben’s bed. Is that all right, Ben?’

My son gave a sharp, satisfied nod. ‘Super cool. Mum’s got a load of interesting books under her bed.’

Luke’s eyes widened with interest bordering on the naughty as I felt my face going hot.

‘It’s just some classics…’ I murmured.

‘Oh, for a minute there I thought you had a stash of—’

I clapped my hands. ‘Right! Everybody back to their rooms to unpack, then. Jack’s invited the kids to Crooked Hill again today. Jessica will be safe in his hands.’

‘Are you sure she’s okay, going out so soon?’ Luke asked.

‘It’s been three weeks. She needs the fresh air.’

‘But how do we know she didn’t get the chickenpox from Jack’s farm? And what about foot and mouth disease, or mad cow

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