Hearts of England
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Note from the Publisher
Child of the Storm Blurb
Child of the Storm Title Page
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Child of the Storm
About the Author
Also by RJ Scott
Awards
Reviews
William's Heart Blurb
William's Heart Title Page
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About the Author
Also by Meredith Russell
Reviews
The Cameraman's Tale Blurb
The Cameraman's Tale Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
About the Author
Also by Chris Quinton
Reviews
By Design Blurb
By Design Title Page
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
By Design
About the Author
Also by Lisa Worrall
Reviews
This Morning Blurb
This Morning Title Page
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About the Author
Also by Sue Brown
A Good Feeling Blurb
A Good Feeling Title Page
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About the Author
Also by SA Meade
A Silver Publishing Book
Hearts of England
Copyrights © 2012 by:
Child of the Storm by RJ Scott
William's Heart by Meredith Russell
The Cameraman's Tale by Chris Quinton
By Design by Lisa Worrall
This Morning by Sue Brown
A Good Feeling by S.A. Meade
E-book ISBN: 9781614957461
First E-book Publication: September 2012
Cover design by Reese Dante
Editors:
Child of the Storm - Liz Bichmann
William's Heart - Lindy Stokes
The Cameraman's Tale - Victoria Reese
By Design - Jae Ashley
This Morning - Nerine Dorman
A Good Feeling - Marie Patrick
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Silver Publishing
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Note from the Publisher
Dear Reader,
Thank you for your purchase of this title. The authors and staff of Silver Publishing hope you enjoy this read and that we will have a long and happy association together.
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Child of the Storm
Ben Hyland wants to share the beauty of Yorkshire with film location scout Cory. All Cory wants is to finish his job and go home. Until he doesn't.
Child of
the Storm
RJ Scott
Dedication
For Chris Quinton who said I should try this writing thing…
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Ford Focus: Ford Motor Company
Sony Pictures: Sony Kabushiki Kaisha TA Sony Corporation
Cadbury's chocolate: Kraft Foods
Toyota: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha Toyota Motor Corporation
National Enquirer: American Media Operations, Inc.
EastEnders: British Broadcasting Corporation, The
Wuthering Heights: Emily Brönte
Child of the Storm
Ben Hyland shifted in his seat as they passed signs for M1 North. They were about twenty miles into their journey and they had left London where tangled roads had given way to endless motorway. The guy in the driving seat hadn't said much so far. Then again the hired car, a brand spanking new Ford Focus, was right-hand drive and given his companion was American there had to be a lot of concentration going on behind his hazel eyes.
The very last thing Ben wanted to do was snag the driver's attention by talking needlessly. Still, they had a long way to go up the spine of the UK and to have silence for hundreds of miles would definitely grate on him. Ben Hyland liked his quiet times with his books and his academic study, but when in social situations he hated the dreaded dead parts. That was why he had a reputation as being the one who spoke before he thought. Just to fill the empty space. He searched his brain for the right thing to say to A, an American, and B, possibly the most gorgeous guy he had seen in years, perhaps ever.
"What film is it that we are scouting locations for?" Ben finally asked. Breaking the silence felt good. "Am I allowed to know now that we are in the car?"
His companion Cory mumbled-surname, the aforementioned American with the blond hair and the come-to-bed eyes, flicked a glance at him. He looked so damn serious and there was a definite frown line marring his otherwise smooth forehead.
Eyes back on the road he answered. "It's not a secret. Of course you're allowed to know. It was all in the briefing pack that my company emailed you." Unspoken was the added 'didn't you read it, you idiot'.
"I didn't get an email," Ben defended himself.
The frown briefly reappeared on Cory's face.
"I'll follow that up," he said. "You should have received the full confidential file for all film details." Cory's company was scouting for more than the one film location and Ben was just one of four lecturers at South Bucks University that had applied to assist. He bet every one of the other three had received their briefing information. Bloody BT Mail. "Th
e short straw we pulled is a costume drama set in Yorkshire."
"Yorkshire? I love Yorkshire." Ben was excited, certainly not feeling for one moment he had drawn the short straw.
"You mean you didn't even know where we were going?"
Ben shrugged. "When you went M1 North I assumed we were going upwards." Ben laughed and emphasised the up by pointing his finger to the sky.
"Hmmm." Cory didn't seem impressed. "Anyway, the working title is 'A Child of Storm'."
His summary wasn't exactly all forthcoming with a plentiful amount of detail and didn't really give anything away. For a second Ben stared at Cory waiting for more. Cory simply concentrated back on driving but Ben was interested in knowing extra detail. He would stop asking questions as soon as Cory said he was getting on Cory's nerves.
"Is that a remake of Wuthering Heights?" Ben asked. "For he, like her, is a child of storm; and this makes a bond between them, which interweaves itself with the very nature of their existence." Ben added the quote with a grin. It was one of many he could recall at the snap of his fingers. He refused to think it made him odd. He was just passionate—that was all. And the chances of him being lucky enough to assist in finding locations for Heathcliff and Cathy? That was not something that happened to Ben Hyland.
"Yes," Cory answered carefully. He was evidently uninspired by Ben's pretentious excerpt from the book. "That is what the script calls for reference too."
Ben felt a fluttering of excitement in the pit of his stomach. Wuthering Heights was his favourite book; from studying it at GCSE right through to writing his degree dissertation about the Brönte sisters—or more accurately, the demise of their brother Branwell. Hell, Hollywood would probably fuck it up, but the journey to get there, an excuse to spend three weeks in Yorkshire—or more accurately Brönte country—was suddenly the best thing to happen to him all year. This all-expense-paid trip with a salary at the end of it for just three weeks work was exactly what he needed.
"Really? Wuthering Heights? Heathcliff, Cathy, and the whole moors thing?" Ben tried hard to tamp down his excitement but Cory was clearly thinking of something else as his response was a bit lacklustre.
"Uh huh," Cory replied. Yep, clearly distracted.
"God, you are going to love what I can show you in Brönte country," Ben continued. He waved his arms animatedly as much as the inside of the car would let him, already envisioning where they could look for parts of the film. "Oh my God, I know the perfect Heights, and you know the part where Catherine is running in the rain to find Heathcliff—"
"I haven't seen the old films," Cory interrupted coolly.
"Oh not the films, sorry, I was referencing the book—"
"I haven't read the book."
That stopped the conversation dead.
Ben bit his tongue for less than thirty seconds. "We're scouting for locations for a film based on a book you haven't read?" Ben said with shock in his voice. "Does Sony Pictures know this?"
Cory let out a long-suffering sigh. Evidently he was asked this question a lot. "Sony employed our company because we are the best at what we do. They don't question our methods. They don't need to be aware of whether the people they employ have read some old book. You don't need to read the book to be a locations manager; you just need to find the right scenery depending on the script." Cory was talking at Ben like he was a kid. All calm and careful and perhaps a little condescending. Ben wished he wasn't so damn focused on how gorgeous the man's voice was when clearly Cory was a bit of an idiot. Cory continued, "I expect most of the film can be shot against green screen with the correct scenery placed in after. Possibly even using bigatures."
Ben had no idea what a bigature was, and even though he wanted to ask he sensed that he was pushing it with the questions. His usual optimism pushed aside the fact that the good-looking guy was a complete prat with a stick up his arse. Three weeks of immersing himself in beautiful countryside was something Ben was not turning down. He had signed up to be the assistant, the one with knowledge of his country, not to make friends with a guy who was flying back to the States in three weeks.
Cory couldn't have been much older than Ben. He had a serious, focused expression sketched on his expressive features, tanned skin, and the most startling hazel green eyes. Dark blond hair was cut in a style that looked effortless but probably took hours and a huge amount of product to keep tamed. Cory's voice was soft and there was a definite drawl to the vowels. Ben wondered where in the US his companion came from. The hot and sultry south, the serious east, or the laid-back west—if indeed any of those stereotypes actually existed outside of characters in films.
He was shorter than Ben's six foot. That much had been obvious at the first handshake at Heathrow Airport. He had given his name as Cory something, but Ben was too polite to ask for clarification of his surname.
Ben had taken his hand, holding it possibly longer than perhaps he should, but jeez, the guy was really bloody pretty and serious with Hollywood-perfect teeth and—God. I need to let go of his hand. Now. Dropping his grip, Ben had seen the curious expression on Cory's face but strict British reserve had Ben taking a step back and inclining his head. That was enough of a hello. Any more touching of the solemn yet pretty could-be-an-actor man was likely to get his dick in trouble. Picking up the hire car and turning north around London and out the other side took up a lot of time, but once on the open road he had wanted to learn more about Cory. Films captivated him; the film industry with all its ups and downs fascinated him.
"I was lucky to get this gig," Ben said. He had managed to break the silence once. He could do it again. "Maria, from our drama and film department, answered this ad and said I should do it too. My boss, that's Oscar Huntingdon, wanted to get involved as well. He's not a bad boss, just a bit odd. I am not sure he likes the English department much, nor drama, come to think of it."
"Uh huh," Cory commented as he switched lanes and then pulled back in front of a coach full of school-age kids who were making rude gestures at every car that passed them. Undeterred, Ben forged ahead in the 'breaking the uncomfortable silence' project.
"He was the one who handed out the matches for us. Maria got the gig in Wales, 'cause she's Welsh. Which helps, you know."
"Sure."
"So anyway, Oscar took your company rep who is scouting London for some steampunk thing. Oscar is all 'I teach physics it should be me that handles the serious stuff'. I guess he hasn't seen Sherlock Holmes, because I watched that and I loved it. I mean who wouldn't—it's Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law in one film. Have you met them?" There was a pause and Cory seemed to be considering his answer.
"Not one-on-one. No," he answered.
Ben was gratified that Cory had actually been listening to his rambling.
"Anyway, I think Sherlock is very steampunk. So the boss could be disappointed if the sci-fi he is on is more Robert and Jude bromance and less Contagion. And then you'll never guess what he said to me."
"Surprise me," Cory said. There was no dry sarcasm in his tone, merely a fond amusement like a dad tolerating the ramblings of a small child. Ben ignored him. He was good at that.
"He then said to me that only Yorkshire and the costume drama were left. He announces that he chose Yorkshire for me because—then he just stopped and looked at me and I was so ready for him to say something about 'my people liking costume dramas, or being a sausage jockey, or wearing pink'—the usual bollocks he throws at me about what he says is my 'alternative lifestyle'. He wimped out though because I was staring straight at him and he just mumbled something like 'you're a lecturer in English literature'." Ben laughed. Then realised he had just outed himself to his new temporary boss. Not that it was an issue. Being gay was as much a part of him as his love for Brönte or Cadbury's chocolate. He never really held back. Hell, half of Hollywood was gay, right? Chancing a quick look at Cory he saw a faint smile on Cory's face but no shock or horror. That was a good thing.
"He sounds like a judgemental idiot," Cory com
mented.
"Totally."
"Do you mind if we stop for something to eat? There wasn't anything decent on the plane and I am so hungry." Cory was so polite. He gestured to a sign that they were passing indicating services were ten miles ahead.
"That's fine." Ben resolved to try not to talk for the next ten miles and he almost managed it apart from the odd comment about road signs or other car users. The rest of the time he spent looking through the glove box and playing with dials on the stereo.
The location company had hired a car for each of their reps and although it was only a small Ford it was new and in much better nick than Ben's ancient Toyota. The stereo worked and in Ben's mind that was a good thing. Music stopped the need he had inside him to talk. Music however, was not enough to get Cory to stop answering calls on his hands-free about everything from accounts to actors to studios. Apparently a location scout spoke to some pretty high-up people in films, like directors and producers, and had way more than one role than just finding the right place for filming.
The last call had been met with a stern response. A litany of harsh summing up interspersed with a couple of curse words. Apparently, no, Cory's company did not work for free, and no, there was no way Cory was dropping his pants for an asshole. Whoever was on the end of the phone needed to 'look elsewhere for support' from 'someone who gave an actual shit'. It appeared as soon as the call had finished that Cory relaxed. From the tight grip of his fingers on the steering wheel to the deep brackets of tension around his gorgeous mouth, every inch of him became instantly looser. Perhaps stressy-Cory was just a result of him dealing with shit. Maybe he was just a nice guy under pressure. Ben hoped so.
They stopped at a service station on the M1 and decided independently on sandwiches that Cory paid for with a shiny red credit card.