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ONE NIGHT IN AMALFI

Carol Marinelli

Chapter One

‘SIR CHARLES WILL see you now, Stella.’

‘Thanks, Jinty.’

With her heart thumping, Stella Harper took the stairs up to Sir Charles’s office, certain she was about to be fired. That the elderly but very astute Sir Charles had realised her promotion to Junior Location Consultant had been a mistake and that she was about to be told she was no longer required.

It was the feeling she’d lived with all her life.

Outward smiles combined with inward dread, and she had long ago learnt to never, ever let it show.

Stella had left school at sixteen. Her mother had moved. Again. Her father had been working abroad and newly married. Again. Really, any efforts at parenting had simply run out.

For four years she’d worked various temporary jobs. Then, at the age of twenty, she’d been sent by her agency for junior office duties at Scene Seekers, a location company that specialised in sourcing and securing sites for films and television. It was based in Lilac House, a beautiful Victorian building in London’s affluent St John’s Wood.

And Stella had loved it from the moment she’d stepped in.

The walls were lined with framed posters of the movies the company had been involved in. On the landing there were various awards on display and another staircase that led to the private screening room. Then she looked down to the garden, the inspiration for the grand house’s name. It was filled with lilacs and so pretty and peaceful. On gorgeous days such as this, Sir Charles would take his favourite clients for a stroll and in tranquil surroundings big deals were made.

Stella had worked her way up, at first answering the phone and greeting the eclectic clients, making them tea and such. She’d always put her hand up, researching local council laws in her free time so she could work on permit applications, self-studying photography.

More recently, she’d been promoted to Junior Location Consultant, a role beyond her wildest dreams and, she silently feared, beyond her capabilities. She was rather certain Sir Charles Atherton had made a mistake in promoting her.

It was clear that a few of her colleagues felt the same.

There had been a few raised eyebrows and bitchy comments about her lack of credentials when she’d got her latest promotion—‘There goes Stella, smiling her way to the top’, had been one she’d overheard. And ‘She wouldn’t last five minutes on set’.

The industry was tough and extremely hierarchical and Stella was neither. She was just so grateful and happy to have worked here for six years now. The longest she’d been anywhere.

And she didn’t want it to end.

Checking her reflection in the window as best she could, she smoothed her long dark curls and ran damp palms along her dress, then, taking a deep breath, walked across the landing and knocked on the half open door.

‘Good morning, Sir Charles.’

‘Ah, Stella, come in.’

Here too the walls were lined with film paraphernalia, but there were also many mementoes and gorgeous photos of his adventurous life. His desk was the messiest of any she’d ever seen, but sitting pristine in his suit, Sir Charles was, as always, immaculate.

‘Take a seat,’ he invited.

Oh, God…

She kept her smile on, determined that if her worst fears transpired then she wouldn’t get upset, just accept the decision and thank Sir Charles for so many marvellous opportunities.

Or ask if she could go back to permits?

She did not want to leave.

‘I thought it better I call you away for this.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not sure if you’re…’