by Paige Toon
I smile downheartedly at him. He is beyond nice. ‘Thanks,’ I say quietly. ‘But I just can’t deal with Polly right now. I know that’s wrong.’ My throat closes and my eyes well up. ‘I’m her friend and I should be there for her. But I just can’t right now.’ I quickly brush my tears away.
‘Come for a drink with me,’ he urges again as the cab driver pulls over.
I shake my head. ‘I should go home.’
Home? Nowhere feels like home.
He sighs heavily and pats my leg, then gets out of the car and pays the driver. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he says through the open door.
‘Thanks for bringing me my bag,’ I tell him.
‘No worries.’ He shuts the door and my heart feels heavier than ever.
Chapter 22
That night, I get a text message as I’m drifting off to sleep. Curiosity getting the better of me, I wearily unplug my phone from its charger and peer at the screen in the darkness. My heart jumps when I see it’s from Alex.
You awake?
I am. Instantly. I sit up in bed. What’s he doing texting me late at night? Does Zara know he’s texting me? Has he told her what happened with Polly and me earlier? It occurs to me that I should ignore him, but my fingers are already typing out a reply.
Just. Thanks for trying to help. See you Monday.
I stare at the screen, feeling on edge as I wait to see if he replies. He does.
Did Lachie catch you up?
My head buzzes as I reply.
Yes. Dropped him off in Camden on way home.
I want him to know this. I also know that I shouldn’t want him to know this.
I hear the front door open and shut. Bridget is home. She clatters about in the hallway for a bit before opening my door.
‘Bronte?’ she whispers into the darkness.
‘Hi,’ I reply, reaching over to switch on my bedside light.
‘Hey,’ she says sympathetically. She comes in and sits on the edge of my bed. ‘I heard about tonight.’
I groan inwardly. ‘Did you?’ And then my phone starts to vibrate. I snatch it up and freeze. Alex is calling me. ‘I’ve got to get this,’ I tell Bridget with startled urgency. ‘Hello?’ I say into the receiver, willing Bridget to leave.
‘It’s Alex.’
‘I know,’ I breathe.
‘Can you talk?’ he asks. He sounds different and I wonder how much he’s had to drink.
‘I’m with Bridget,’ I tell him. ‘Alex,’ I mouth at her.
‘Do you need to go?’ he asks.
‘No. Hang on.’ I look up at Bridget. ‘I’ll come and talk to you in a sec,’ I promise.
She gives me an odd look before getting up to leave, shutting the door firmly behind her.
‘I’m here,’ I say into the receiver. My pulse has sped up. ‘Where are you?’ I ask.
‘At home,’ he replies.
‘Is Zara with you?’ I almost choke on her name.
‘No, she’s out tonight,’ he replies thickly.
So she doesn’t know he texted, let alone called. There’s an awkward pause as I contemplate this.
‘I just wanted to check you got home alright,’ he says gruffly. But he already knows that I did. He texted me.
‘I’m here. I’m fine.’
‘I was worried about you,’ he says. I think he’s pretty wasted.
‘I’m okay,’ I reply, wondering where this conversation is going. ‘A bit embarrassed.’ I switch the light off and slide down in bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. ‘What did the others say after I left?’
‘Not much. Bridget was concerned about you when she turned up and you’d gone.’
‘She’s just arrived home.’
‘Oh, right. Yeah. She didn’t stay that long.’ Pause. ‘Do you know what you’re going to do about Polly?’ he asks.
‘Lachie thinks we need to host an intervention. He had a friend in Australia with a similar problem,’ I add. ‘I guess I’ll give Grant a call this weekend.’ The thought fills me with dread. I barely have the mental strength to deal with myself, let alone Polly.
‘What Polly said about your mum. You never talk about your parents.’
Maybe it’s the darkness, but I find myself opening up to him. I sigh heavily. ‘I didn’t have a very good childhood.’
‘Why not?’ His deep voice is comforting.
‘My parents weren’t happy. They shouldn’t have been together, but they were too stubborn to split up. At least, my mum was. I think my dad would have got divorced if she’d let him. He was too weak.’ My voice is almost a whisper.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says.
‘Are your parents happily married?’
‘Er, yeah, they are.’ He sounds reluctant to admit it.
‘That’s good. You have good role models.’
He says nothing for a while. But it’s true what I’ve said. Zara is lucky. The thought hurts and it suddenly feels surreal that we’re having this late-night conversation at all.
‘Are they why you don’t believe in marriage?’ he interrupts my thoughts.
I bite my lip. ‘I guess so,’ I admit.
‘That’s sad.’
I don’t want to talk about this any more. ‘What about you?’ I shift under the covers, suddenly feeling cold. ‘I’ve been worried about you lately.
‘I’m okay,’ he says quietly.
‘Is everything alright with—’ I can’t believe I’m asking this question. ‘–Zara?’
He sucks in a sharp breath and exhales loud enough for me to hear. ‘Yeah,’ he emits the word halfway through his exhalation. ‘We’re alright.’
That sounds completely ominous. To my distress, a spark of hope ignites inside me. I finally find my voice. ‘Has anything... happened?’
He groans softly. ‘Uh, we had a bit of a scare a week or so ago.’
‘What sort of scare?’
‘She thought she was pregnant.’
A dark feeling settles over me.
‘She wasn’t,’ he says quickly. ‘But, I don’t know, it sort of threw us.’
I feel sick. ‘In what way?’
‘She wanted to bring the wedding forward. I thought we should postpone it.’
His words take a moment to sink in. He thought about postponing their wedding? The nausea turns into jittery nerves.
‘What did you decide?’ I’m almost too scared to ask.
‘We didn’t have to. She wasn’t pregnant.’
‘So the wedding is still on?’
His reply doesn’t immediately come. ‘Yeah,’ he says, halfheartedly, and my eyes inadvertently shut. With real effort, I steel myself.
‘I can’t believe it about Russ and Maria,’ I force brightness into my tone.
‘Yeah. Pretty nuts.’ He still sounds flat.
‘Listen, I’d better go and speak to Bridget, but thank you for calling,’ I effuse unnaturally.
‘Okay,’ he says slowly.
‘See you Monday.’
‘Sure.’ He seems averse to ending the call.
‘Bye.’ I almost throw my phone at the wall. Instead I throw it onto the bed, which is not nearly as satisfying. I rub my hands over my face in frustration. What was all that about? Was I just drunk-dialled by an almost married man? I wrench back the covers and get out of bed, too worked up to sleep. I go and knock on Bridget’s door.
‘Everything alright?’ she asks wryly. She’s in bed, reading a book.
‘No.’
She looks surprised. ‘What’s up?’ She puts her book down. ‘What was Alex doing calling you at this hour?’
‘That’s a very good question,’ I say sarcastically.
She shakes her head. ‘He still likes you, doesn’t he?’
I collapse onto her bed. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like there’s still something between us.’
‘And you still like him?’
‘I’ll get over it,’ I mutter. ‘It’ll help when he gets married. He thought he’d got Zara
pregnant.’ I fight back tears as I look up at the ceiling.
‘Really?’ Bridget says.
‘That would have put me off him,’ I laugh bitterly.
‘I could never fall for a married man,’ she says.
‘No, me neither,’ I’m quick to point out.
‘There’s nothing more off-putting than a man who’s deeply in love with another woman.’
‘I couldn’t agree with you more. But that’s the thing. Alex doesn’t seem to be deeply in love with Zara.’
Bridget looks worried at my revelation.
I explain. ‘He just told me that Zara wanted to bring the wedding forward when she thought she was pregnant. But he wanted to postpone it. Why wouldn’t he agree to her request if he was sure about them?’
‘Maybe he’s not sure about them.’
‘Then what’s he doing?’ The lump in my throat is back.
‘God knows,’ Bridget mutters. ‘I still don’t know why you don’t just hook up with Lachie. That would take your mind off Alex.’
I roll my eyes. ‘That’s wrong on so many levels. One, I’d be using Lachie to take my mind off Alex, and two, I’d feel completely shit when he sleeps with me and moves on to the next chick.’
‘Do you think he’s like that?’
‘Don’t you?’
She frowns. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not about to risk it for the sake of a twenty-four-year-old guitar bum.’
She laughs. ‘He’s not a guitar bum.’
‘If you like him so much, why don’t you sleep with him?’
‘Alright then, maybe I will,’ she replies flippantly and I stare at her in shock. She smirks at the look on my face. ‘I’m just joking.’ She points her forefinger at me accusingly. ‘I knew you liked him.’
‘I don’t.’ I frown. ‘Not really. Not like that.’
‘Well, he likes you, not me, anyway,’ she points out.
I pull a face. ‘Do you seriously think he does?’
‘Yeah. Obviously!’ She gives me a ‘duh!’ look. ‘But whatever. If you’re not attracted to him...’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t attracted to him.’
‘Oh?’
‘Who isn’t?’ I say.
‘Fair point,’ she concedes.
I sigh and get up from the bed, stretching my arms over my head and yawning loudly. ‘I’m going to see if I can fall asleep now.’
‘Alright. Night-night, Bronte.’
‘Night-night, Bridget.’
I walk out of the door, but she calls after me, ‘Night-night, Mary Ann!’
I call back, ‘Night-night, Billy Bob!’ I turn into my room.
‘Night-night, Suzie Lynn!’
I smirk. ‘Night-night, Sally Jo!’
‘Night-night—’
‘Shut up, Bridget!’ I cut her off and slam my bedroom door.
She cracks up laughing and I do too.
Chapter 23
Monday rolls around quickly. I’m nervous as I travel into work, wondering how Alex is going to be around me.
For the first time since I saw him on the up escalator when I was going down, our paths cross over in Tottenham Court Road Tube station.
‘Hi!’ he exclaims with surprise as we pass through the turnstiles next to each other.
‘Hi yourself,’ I bat back, feeling myself blush. I must’ve walked straight past him on the escalator – I’m in my own little world today. He adjusts his bag over his shoulder as we make our way to the stairs. I’m still a little out of breath and I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say so I hope he does.
‘Did you speak to Polly?’ he asks.
‘No.’ My mouth turns down. ‘Couldn’t face it.’ I glance at him. ‘I guess that makes me a bad person.’
‘Never.’
We spill out of the Tube station and into the cold, wet street. I run for cover under the Centre Point overhang as the rain pelts down with a vengeance.
‘What happened to summer?’ I mutter as Alex joins me, shoving his damp, dark hair off his face. It’s still only mid-August. I pull my super-lightweight umbrella out of my bag. Since moving to England, I’ve found it as essential as my Tube pass.
‘At least it was nice yesterday,’ he says as we set off towards Covent Garden and our magazine offices. I’m holding my umbrella over both of us, but we’re not huddled together so his right shoulder will be getting wet. ‘I went to see my sister and her husband in St Albans,’ he reveals.
‘Is this Jo and Brian?’
‘Yeah.’ He smiles down at me. ‘Your memory is amazing.’
I shrug. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty shit-hot.’
He laughs and the sound fills me with warmth. I like making him laugh.
‘Do you have a photographic memory?’ he teases.
‘I wish. No, I usually only remember the things I want to fff—’
He finishes my sentence for me. ‘Forget?’
I try to laugh it off, but the sound catches in my throat. I nod instead.
Yes, there are definitely some things I’d rather forget.
When I start up my computer a familiar name jumps out at me from my inbox. I click on the message from Lily and squeak.
Elizabeth Rose Whiting arrived on Sunday 17 August at 7.15 a.m. weighing 3.3 kg. She was two weeks early so Ben is hoping this is a sign that she won’t keep us waiting (up all night) in the years to come. Mummy thinks Daddy’s dreaming... I’m recovering well after a relatively easy labour – no, I never thought I’d utter those words either! (Thank you Dr Gowri and your hypnosis CDs!) Pictures of our beautiful little girl attached. We are so in love right now xxx
I put my hand to my mouth as I stare at the photographs of the tiny baby. She is so adorable. I can’t wait to meet her.
The latest issue of Hebe lands on my desk and I look up at Simon.
‘Thanks,’ I say. He pauses and smiles, seeing the baby snaps on my screen.
‘Who’s that?’ he asks.
‘My friend Lily had her baby,’ I tell him.
‘The Lily who got us the Joseph Strike pictures?’ he asks with interest.
‘Yes.’
He leans forward and peers at the pictures. ‘Aah. She’s cute. Why don’t you get Sarah to send her some flowers from us? That baby bump issue is still our highest-selling issue of the year.’
Followed in close second place by the Joe Strike baby issue.
‘Aw, thank you, I will.’
How sweet is that? I get up and go to speak to Sarah, the editorial assistant, who’s only too happy to oblige. She’s still super-keen and efficient, but I wonder how long Simon will be able to hang onto her before she moves onwards and upwards.
A week later, Nicky resigns. I seem to be the only person in the office who is shocked.
‘She was pushed,’ Russ whispers gleefully when we’re in the kitchen.
I frown at him. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s rubbish.’
‘Russ,’ I tut, rolling my eyes.
‘Good riddance,’ he adds.
‘She’s not that bad.’ I can’t believe I’m defending her. If she had superpowers, her evil stares would have bored a huge hole right through my head.
Simon calls me into the back office for a meeting later that week.
‘As you know, Nicky has resigned,’ he says.
There’s still no clear indication of whether she was pushed. She claims she wanted to take a break and spend some more time with her ageing parents.
‘Yes.’ I nod.
‘It’s company policy to advertise, but I’ve spoken to Clare and she agrees. We’d like you to step up.’
My eyes widen as I stare at him. Just like that? They’re not going to make me jump through horrible interviewing hoops like they usually do? My face breaks into a grin.
‘It takes a certain person to be able to deal with celebrities and get them to do the things that you want them to do,’ he says w
ith a smile. ‘Some of these people are very, very difficult to deal with. You have to be extremely tactful, you can’t upset or annoy them, yet all the time you have to still, somehow, convince, cajole, and do whatever’s necessary to get them to deliver. Nelly Lott is a very good example of how you achieved that.’
‘Well, that was mostly Alex,’ I say automatically.
‘It was a joint effort,’ he insists, and I can’t argue. He continues. ‘As Picture Director, you’ll also have to manage the budget and negotiate big sets of pictures, which means handling large amounts of money. We’ll send you on some courses, including one for management, because you’ll be in charge of two people. I know you’ve covered for Nicky before, but it would help for you to shadow her before she leaves, so you can learn the ropes properly.’
It goes without saying that I’m not overly keen on this idea. ‘Will she be okay with me doing that?’ I ask tentatively.
‘Absolutely.’ He sounds very confident. Then again, if she wants to leave with a good reference... ‘Helen will move up and we’ll advertise for a picture assistant.’
‘Okay,’ I nod, still trying to take all of this in.
‘Happy?’ he asks.
Surely he can tell by my face that I am. Very. ‘Yes!’ I enthuse. ‘Thank you!’ But hang on... ‘What about my visa? It expires in March. I’m supposed to be going home. Is this just temporary?’
He appears thoughtful. ‘I’d forgotten about that,’ he admits.
My heart sinks, but he doesn’t look perturbed.
‘Would you consider staying here in the UK?’ he asks.
‘Can I just do that?’
‘I don’t think it will be a problem to extend your visa, if that’s what you’d like?’
Is that what I’d like? I think so.
‘I’ll speak to Clare about it,’ he says of the publisher. ‘She’s handled visa situations in the past. She’ll know what to do.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Either way, I still want you to step up,’ he says. ‘Even if we only have you for another six months or so.’
I grin. ‘Cool.’
‘I’ll make the announcement on Friday, so please keep it under your hat until then.’
