that she’d already exhausted of raising the money she needed, but even the modest success of Heart of the Wilderness wasn’t enough to open any doors, except for vague suggestions to resubmit her proposal the following year.
The commercial involved children, dogs and endless bars of chocolate. It paid the rent, but after five days Shannon was exhausted, never wanted to see another chocolate bar, and was less than enamoured of both children and dogs.
Anyway, children had long been on the list of things she preferred not to think about too much.
On Friday night she was lying propped against cushions on her couch, drinking coffee and poring over the script of her beloved project. As she scribbled notes on the pages, thinking about camera shots and angles, she had to wonder why she bothered. Odds were that the Hobbs story was going to be filmed by someone else, and her dream would die.
When the telephone rang she picked up the receiver listlessly and gave her name.
‘Shannon,’ said a deep, well-remembered voice.
Instantly all her senses were alert. She sat up. ‘Devin?’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m…fine.’
‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes.’ Why did he want to know?
‘I haven’t heard from you.’
‘No.’ There wasn’t much she could add to that. Once or twice she’d toyed with the idea of leaving a blunt, even rude, repudiation of his offer on the answer machine, and at other times she’d been tempted to tell him she’d accept any terms he cared to lay down. But her silence should have told him she had no intention of taking up his preposterous offer.
After a short pause he said, ‘Have you found a backer?’
‘No.’
‘Feel like going out for supper?’
‘I’m tired.’ True. ‘I’ve had a hectic week.’
‘Me too. I could bring a pizza and come round.’ His voice dropped into seduction mode. ‘Pepperoni, pineapple, black olives…’
He knew all her weaknesses. She hadn’t thought she was hungry, but now her mouth was watering.
While she was still trying to muster the will to say no, he said, ‘I’ll be there in about half an hour. And I promise not to keep you up late.’
He’d hung up before she could say anything more. She put down the phone and sat staring at the page on her lap without seeing it.
Maybe he’d had second thoughts about financing her film, decided to retract his outrageous terms.
Some hope, she told herself. More likely he still hoped to talk her into accepting them.
‘When they’re ice-skating in hell,’ she muttered.
It was only twenty-five minutes before the doorbell buzzed. The aroma of melted cheese met her nostrils as soon as she opened the door, bringing back memories of evenings when they’d sat side by side watching a film on TV while sharing a pizza and a bottle of wine.
He’d brought wine too, her favourite red. It was raining outside, a light, misty drizzle that dewed the wine bottle. Tiny sparklets of moisture glittered in Devon’s dark hair under the glow of the hall light.
He wore no jacket or tie with his blue shirt and dark trousers. Her eyes were level with the open neck of the shirt, and she could see the tiny pulse beating under lightly tanned skin. Her own pulses quickened.
She led him into the lounge before it occurred to her that it would have been safer to eat in the dining area in the kitchen. This room was far too cosy.
But he’d already placed the pizza and wine on the coffee table, beside the script. ‘A corkscrew?’ he enquired.
Shannon turned to the old oak sideboard and extracted a corkscrew, two wineglasses and a couple of plates. Pretty, flowered china plates that had once belonged to her grandmother, and that her mother had bequeathed to her.
Devin sat on the ruby-red armchair and deftly opened the bottle. As she resumed her seat on the sofa he poured the wine and placed a glass in front of Shannon, then lifted the lid of the box and slid a slice of pizza onto a plate.
Automatically Shannon tucked her bare feet under her on the couch before biting into the layers of cheese, extras and the doughy crust. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured as the concoction released its flavour onto her tongue.
Devin smiled, watching her. Then he took a bite of his own piece, picked up his glass and leaned back in the chair.
Shannon swallowed. ‘How did you know this is what I needed?’
‘I know a lot about you, Shannon.’
She supposed he did, superficially. But he had never shared her deepest feelings. He didn’t understand why she’d been compelled to end their marriage. Her clumsy efforts to explain had only made him angry.
He seemed mellower now, the anger dissipated by time.
Devin dusted crumbs from his hands. ‘A script?’ he asked, nodding at the open folder on the table. ‘The one you’re wanting finance for?’
‘Yes.’
‘May I?’
She nodded and he picked it up, taking another slice of pizza as he began reading.
Shannon let him do so in silence, watching as he put down his plate with the half-eaten slice on it and turned a page, apparently forgetting to finish the food.
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