by Mandy Baggot
Appleshaw High Street was Christmas ready after the Advent opening and there were strings of glittering lights adorning every shop front. Even the butcher’s had their glowing, slightly bloodied knuckles of ham lights swinging from their awning. The towering tree – donated by Appleshaw Landscaping – was decked in the usual multitude of colours, nothing matching, some of the tinsel looking like it came from biblical times. Beneath the lower boughs sat costumed members of the Scouts and Brownies creating a twelve-hour Jesus-in-the-manger-tableau that alternated around wee breaks and egg sandwiches. She had been Mary once, until Russell, who was playing the back end of the donkey, tried looking up her dress. After that she had always been a shepherd and insisted on wearing dungarees.
She stepped out of the cold and into the warmth and lacquered ambience of Cuts and Curls. Susie was busy setting Ruby from the Appleshaw Inn’s curlers. Two teenaged twins – the new Saturday girls – were in the middle of the window display fighting with a Christmas fir that was far too big and threatening to knock over the stand of expensive products Lara knew Susie had ordered in from America.
‘We’re going to New York, Ruby,’ Susie gushed, expertly rolling as she edged around the chair her client was sitting in.
‘Oh, I’ve heard it’s very busy there,’ Ruby replied.
Susie laughed. ‘Everywhere’s busier than Appleshaw.’
‘Are you going in the spring?’ Ruby asked.
‘No,’ Susie said. ‘Next week … or the week after. It depends on flights.’
‘Goodness!’
Ruby turned her head and looked at Susie as if there was no way in the world such a thing could happen so quickly. The barmaid did have a point …
There was a scream and one of the twins fell to the floor, the spruce landing on top of her. Lara dashed to help, pushing the tree back up and holding on to it while the second twin did something creative with wool to try and secure it to the venetian blinds. Twin-on-the-floor got up and dusted pine needles from her clothes.
‘I know you’re at work and everything,’ Lara called, still taking the full weight of the tree. ‘But we need to talk.’
‘About what to take to NYC?’ Susie asked, bubbling with so much enthusiasm it was evaporating off her and into the peroxide-tinged air of the salon. ‘It’s cold there at the moment. Really cold. Minus-figures-in-the-daytime cold. Too-cold-to-snow cold. Woolly-hats-and-gloves cold. Bagels-and-cream-cheese cold. Ice-cold-beer cold …’
‘Hot-chocolate cold,’ Ruby added with a beam.
‘I can’t go to New York,’ Lara blurted out. This was crazy.
‘What?!’ Susie exclaimed. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ve got no money until I get my Christmas bonus – if Dad gives everyone a Christmas bonus this year …’
‘I told you on the phone, David can organise the flights. He wants to organise the flights. He told me he gets tips that can pay for flights. Tips! And he misses me. We talked for hours last night when I got in.’ Susie looked at Ruby. ‘Not that I’m too tired to function or anything.’ She drew in a breath. ‘So, you need some dollars, or a couple of credit cards, to spend up on Fifth Avenue …’
‘And money for somewhere to stay,’ Lara added. ‘You said David shares an apartment smaller than Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs.’
‘He does,’ Susie said, more to Ruby than Lara. ‘I’ve seen photos. He has to tuck his legs up a certain way to even get into bed.’
‘So, we can’t stay there,’ Lara concluded, still holding on to the tree while one of the twins performed a cat’s cradle with the wool. ‘So, we need money for somewhere to stay.’ She had no idea why she was even talking this through. She had work. The haulage company was busy at this time of year. Dan might change his mind about ‘the break’ before he went to Scotland and she needed to be around if he did …
‘David’s going to find an Airbnb for us. There’s loads near him and they’re not that expensive.’
‘Define “that”,’ Lara said, folding her arms across her chest. The tree listed sideways but held. Both twins clapped their hands and delved into a box of decorations.
‘Let me finish Ruby’s rollers, set her under the dryer and we’ll have a coffee,’ Susie said, still buzzing. ‘I can’t believe I’m finally getting to go to New York. I mean, I’ve been to America before, but that was Atlanta and I didn’t really see much outside of the conference centre … apart from a really good bar called the Ping Pong Emporium.’
Lara headed for the back of the salon and the kitchen.
‘Give me one good reason why you can’t go to New York.’
‘I have a job.’
They were sitting on the cream pleather sofa that was squeezed into the corner of the small kitchen area at the back of the salon. It was well worn and the confidant of many hairdresser secrets. It was the place Susie’s client from the manor house, Fion Charles, had broken down and admitted she was pregnant with triplets and wasn’t sure how she felt about it, even after so many failed tries at IVF. And it had been a bed to Diego, a barber from Mexico, who had been hired last summer when the village started wanting their beards trimmed – even Mrs Hopkiss.
‘Give me two reasons.’
‘Aldo.’
‘Come on, Lara, Aldo isn’t your responsibility.’
Except he was. A bit. When her dad had offered to take him in, Lara had pledged her support. Orphaned after a fire claimed his parents and then cancer had claimed his Aunt Peggy, Aldo had been just ten when he’d been left with no one. Lara remembered how it felt to be left. Except she hadn’t been alone. She’d always had her dad. She also knew Aldo wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. His learning difficulties meant he needed extra support, love and a firm family unit to lean on. The Weekses had given him all of that and more.
‘He’s my brother,’ Lara said. ‘I can’t leave him.’
‘You won’t be leaving him,’ Susie said. ‘Your dad will be here.’
‘I know, but—’
‘When was the last holiday you had.’
Camping with Dan. Snuggling up together in a tent. She wanted to cry.
‘You need a break,’ Susie told her.
She wanted to cry even more now the ‘b’ word had been mentioned.
‘I can’t,’ Lara said.
‘This is to do with Dan, isn’t it?’
She couldn’t eke out a reply. She knew her expression was saying everything.
‘Has he been round to see you?’
‘No,’ Lara said hastily.
‘He bloody has, hasn’t he?’ Susie blew the steam off the coffee cup she was cradling. ‘Let me guess: he heard everyone at the Co-op talking about you having that little moment at the party last night.’
‘What?!’ Lara exclaimed. ‘Did you hear that too?’
‘You know what the village is like.’
‘I know, but I thought the fact I saved the soup stand with my superior driving might have been more interesting than me … needing to take a few deep breaths.’ She took a swig of her coffee and it burnt her mouth.
‘We talked about this last night,’ Susie reminded her. ‘We had a plan. And you got a tweet back from Seth Hunt!’
‘And a direct message,’ Lara stated with a sigh.
‘What?!’ Susie exclaimed. ‘What d’you mean a direct message?!’
The tweet had said:
@laraweekend Keep smiling. Happy is a place under your control. Your boyfriend does not know how lucky he is!
It was nice. It had made her shiver a little bit when she read it because she remembered Dr Mike saying the ‘happy’ line to student doctor Iris before they eventually got together in season four. But it was a line. And anyway, it had probably been delivered by his social-media manager. Still, it had made her feel a little better for five minutes after Dan had left.
But then she noticed he had also followed her back and she had a direct message notification … and that was from Seth Hunt too … or his social-media manag
er. She had to keep this real.
‘Show me!’ Susie stuck her hand out for Lara’s phone.
She got her device out of her jeans pocket and gave it over. Within a second Susie was on Twitter and read aloud:
‘“Hey, Lara …” Oh that’s so sweet!’ Susie cleared her throat. ‘“I just wanted you to know that I’ve totally been there with the whole break thing and it sucks. I feel for you.” Oh, I love him! I love him! “But you have to be stronger than him and you can be, even if you don’t feel it right now.” Oh my God, Lara, he sounds like the most perfect, perfect—’
‘Actor?’ Lara offered. ‘A perfect actor.’ He was good. That’s why she had watched Manhattan Med so much. She had believed in Dr Mike wholeheartedly.
‘“Honestly, if you think I can help then I would like to.” Oh, sweet baby Jesus! Is this real?’
‘Probably not,’ Lara answered.
‘“I see you’re based in the UK so I kinda don’t know how much help I can be, but if you’re ever in NYC send me a DM and I’ll do what I can. Seth.” Lara! Lara! Are you hearing this?!’
‘Yes,’ Lara answered. And she had read it earlier. Twice.
‘This is it! This is your big chance! It’s really happening! This is definitely him and not any managerial team!’ Susie leapt out of her chair, spilling coffee on the well-weathered sofa. ‘We’re going to New York and you’re going to make Dan jealous by posting loads of photos of you and Seth Hunt on social media.’
Lara clicked her fingers in front of her friend’s face. ‘And the hypnotist says, “come back into the room on my count … one, two, three … awake”.’
‘Listen,’ Susie said, a calmer voice overriding the hysteria. ‘I know you love Dan. I’m not suggesting you come to New York and sleep with Seth Hunt – although, if I wasn’t loved up with David and dying to get my hands all over his hot Latino body because it’s been months, then I definitely would do that – I’m just saying …’
‘What?’ Lara asked. ‘What are you saying?’
‘You do need a break. A break from your job. From Aldo. From Appleshaw.’ Susie put her coffee down on the edge of the kitchen worktop. ‘Lara, I know how much you want to travel, and I know you think doing it via Google is enough for you but … it’s really not.’ She reached out and took hold of Lara’s hands. ‘This is a big opportunity to get out of Appleshaw and to see the Big Apple. New York City! Nearly at Christmas! The whole place will be alive with Santas and lights and ice skating and … clothes stores!’
Lara smiled at Susie’s last remark. Her friend did love retail therapy. She missed the designer shops and independent boutiques of London. And Susie was right: she did want to see all the places she looked up online … one day … but she thought she would visit them with Dan. She swallowed. Lara went to reply.
‘Wait,’ Susie said. ‘Don’t say anything yet. Let me talk to David again, make sure his tips really can cover both our flights, see how much an Airbnb place would be and, while I’m doing that, you can be thinking about it.’ She squeezed Lara’s hands. ‘Really thinking about it.’
‘For you,’ Lara said.
‘No, Lara,’ Susie replied. ‘For you.’
Nine
Blind Tiger, Bleecker Street, NYC
Seth put down his glass of Pilsner and exhaled. All around him were people winding down after work, either before going home to their significant other or they were already with that significant other, getting ready for a big night in the city. From his wooden bar stool, the roaring fire in the grey stone hearth warming his back, he could see the dark sky, bright Christmas lights on the buildings across the street, traffic backing up, yellow taxis at a crawl, the noise muted by the warm air, music and chatter in the bar room.
His mother was a prostitute. He closed his eyes and repeated it again, a whisper on his lips, trying to make it more real. His mother was a prostitute. And he, apparently, was some sort of intolerant prude who had crazily thought that his birth mother might have been a hard-working Catholic shop girl who loved her boyfriend, had got caught out and had a father with strong values. Instead she had been a hooker, working the street near his mother’s shelter. He had wanted the truth and he had got it. So, what now?
‘Jeez, man.’ Trent had returned from his trip to the bathroom. ‘You’ve drunk that beer already?’
Seth looked at his glass, nothing but a layer of froth on the inside. He hadn’t even tasted it. ‘I’ll get us two more.’
‘Just a half for me, bud,’ Trent answered. ‘I’ve gotta sell peanuts tomorrow, remember?’
‘You went to the audition,’ Seth said.
‘And I got the job,’ Trent replied. ‘Just like you said.’
‘That’s terrific.’
‘How about you? Did you call your agent?’
‘Almost.’
‘Seth, that’s not an answer. What are you holding off for?’
‘I’ve got a little on my mind.’
‘A little or a lot?’
He wasn’t ready to share. He didn’t know why. He just wasn’t. But Trent would need some kind of answer. He was like a New York rat with leftover meatballs and spaghetti.
‘I’m thinking of getting another agent, maybe,’ Seth blurted out. He wasn’t. Although he did need to have a conversation with Andrew about the call-backs, or rather the lack of them. When his mind wasn’t on the fact his birth mother was a call girl.
‘I think that’s a great idea, bud,’ Trent said, nodding as he sipped at his beer. ‘It’s December, it’s the perfect time for new beginnings.’ He slapped a hand to Seth’s shoulder. ‘Most people are waiting for the ding-dong of midnight and January, but it’s right to strike now. And I have a proposal for you.’ He unbuttoned the collar of his aqua long-sleeved cotton twill shirt, the fire doing its job in the room.
‘Don’t tell me,’ Seth started. ‘They need someone else to sell nuts on camera.’
‘Listen, I’m too good for nuts, but things are kinda sparse right now. You, you are definitely too good for nuts and I’m gonna make sure you never have to work another commercial again.’
‘I’ve never had a problem working commercials, I just … I mean … things aren’t …’ He had been preoccupied with needing to find out who had conceived him. ‘Can we get two more Pilsners, please?’ he asked the barman.
‘Let me take over your management,’ Trent said firmly.
‘Trent, you don’t have to do that.’
‘I want to do it. And, being completely upfront with you … I think I can do a fucking great job,’ he stated with all of his usual bravado and then some.
Seth couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s confidence.
‘Listen, bud, hear me out. I know that on paper I don’t have Andrew’s experience. But I’ve been at this game for years, just like you. I’ve got contacts. I know people who’ve got contacts. And there’s absolutely no catch here. I will give my services for free for the entire month of December and, if I don’t land you a decent role in that time, you can go find someone else.’
‘Trent, you’re a great actor,’ Seth said.
‘No,’ he replied, a sigh coming out with the word. ‘I’m an average actor. You’re the great actor—uh, uh, uh, before you interrupt me. I’m cool with that. I know I’m not gonna be biting at the heels of Leo DiCaprio any time soon. I gotta take what I can get if I wanna stay in this industry.’
‘Trent, I—’
‘Give me this chance, bro. Let me work some magic over your career. Sprinkle a little Davenport dander over your lacklustre résumé.’
Seth had seen most of Trent’s dander around their shower tray. The barman set down their drinks in front of them. What did he have to lose by giving Trent a month’s trial? Andrew seemed to be focused on other clients. Perhaps it was time for a shake-up.
‘I’ll get Andrew to waive his notice period too.’ Trent picked up his beer glass.
‘I signed a contract,’ Seth reminded.
Trent waved a h
and in the air like it was of absolutely no significance. ‘I know his barber.’
‘And that helps because?’
‘Don’t you tell your barber everything? Confess all the little indiscretions you’ve had in elevators of hotels with actresses who should know better? Married actresses?’
Seth didn’t tend to tell anyone anything. And he wasn’t really the indiscreet type … at least the him he had known all these years wasn’t. Who knew what the son of a prostitute could be capable of …
‘OK,’ Seth announced before taking a sip of his beer, a little froth coating his top lip.
‘OK?’ Trent said, eyes lighting up like the Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Center. ‘I’m gonna be your agent?’
‘For a month,’ Seth said. ‘We’ll see how it goes.’
‘Woo hoo!’ Trent hollered, air-punching his fist upwards. ‘You won’t regret it, man, I promise.’
He slapped Seth’s back hard, nearly making him fall off his stool as his mouth again hit the foam of the beer.
‘Right, well, now I’m officially heading up Team Hunt we need to get you back in the game real quick, so I am completely taking over your social-media management. Have you checked it at all today?’
He hadn’t even looked at his phone apart from to answer Trent’s call about meeting here for drinks. ‘No, but I can take a quick look now,’ Seth said. ‘Post a photo of our drinks on Instagram? People still like beer and food photos, right?’
‘They do,’ Trent agreed. ‘But leave all that to me. I have your logins. I’m already working an angle on Twitter that should get great press attention if it comes off.’
‘You have my logins?’ Seth queried. ‘You’ve been my acting agent for sixty seconds.’
‘And already I’m more prepared than Andrew, right?’
‘I’d say.’
‘So, two things. Next week you’re doing a photo shoot as one of the new celebrity faces for Stand for Wildlife, supporting the fundraising at Central Park Zoo.’
