by Suzy K Quinn
Silence. It takes me a moment to realise how Marc could have taken those words, and by the time I see the pain in his eyes it’s too late. I’ve lost him, at least for the moment.
‘Marc—’
‘Call Leo and see if he’ll meet you. I need you to leave the townhouse as soon as possible. There are things I have to take care of.’
I feel sick. ‘I didn’t mean ... about hurting me … you’ve touched parts of me that no one has.’
Marc turns away from me. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed. And to make your call. Your phone is on the dressing table.’ He heads to the door. ‘Call me when you get to the theatre, so I know you’re safe.’
‘Marc,’ I say, knowing my voice sounds fragile and tearful. ‘Please. What’s happening?’
Marc turns back to me, and I see his beautiful profile. God he’s so handsome. So charismatic. I hear that horrible voice again – the voice of my paranoia. He’s getting tired of you. That’s what this is all about.
‘It was nothing you did,’ says Marc, not looking at me. ‘Just ... trust me, this is for the best right now. It’s my way of keeping you safe.’ He heads to the door.
‘Wait,’ I call to Marc’s retreating back, tears coming now.
‘We’ll talk later.’ Marc leaves and the bedroom door slams closed behind him.
11
I shower and dress, my mind swirling with unpleasant thoughts. Something weird is going on – bad weird. And I hate not knowing what.
Once I’m dressed, I call Leo and ask if he can meet right away.
Leo gives a firm ‘yes’, and tells me he’ll bring doughnuts and coffee to the theatre.
I head downstairs and find Keith waiting in the hallway. He’s in his chauffeur’s uniform, complete with grey cap, and he touches the peak when he sees me.
My hair is still damp from the shower and hanging around my shoulders. Until my hair dries, I look like a wild woman. But if I use a hairdryer it sends my hair into a wild frizz.
‘Good morning Miss Sophia,’ Keith calls out.
I smile. ‘Come on, Keith. You know it’s just Sophia where I’m concerned.’
‘I know. Just teasing. I believe I have the pleasure of taking you to the theatre today?’
It’s strange seeing Keith in Marc’s house. I’ve only ever seen him in the car or the garage before, but I guess he must come inside pretty often. Marc isn’t the sort of man to let his staff wait in cold garages.
A very loyal employer. Isn’t that what Keith said about Marc? And he’s loyal to Denise too, taking care of her over the years. And I’ve seen myself how loyal he is. To his students. To the college.
Is he proposing to me out of loyalty? says a nasty voice. Maybe he’s worried he’s ruined my reputation and now he has to do the right thing.
God, what’s wrong with me today?
‘Marc wants me to go there, so I guess I’m going,’ I say, attempting a smile.
‘You don’t strike me as the sort of girl who’d do everything Marc told you to. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons Marc is so head over heels about you. You have a mind of your own.’
‘Most of the time,’ I laugh. ‘But it’s easy to lose my head when Marc’s around.’
We head down to the garage, my brain still working at one hundred miles an hour.
*****
When we drive out of the townhouse, I notice black-clothed security men around the gate.
‘Do you know why those security guards at there?’ I ask Keith, as we swing out into the road.
‘Beats me,’ says Keith, turning onto the busy main road. ‘They weren’t here when I arrived. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Marc is a “better safe than sorry” kind of guy.’
‘Uh ... Keith,’ I say. ‘Aren’t we going the wrong way?’
‘Marc’s orders,’ says Keith. ‘We’ll be varying our route to the theatre from now on.’
‘Oh.’ I chew my thumbnail. ‘Keith, what’s going on? Marc wanted me to leave the townhouse as soon as possible. And then there are these extra guards on the gate, and you’ve been told to take a different route. I thought the townhouse was safe …’
‘If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that Marc always has good reasons for his actions.’
‘If you’re sure …’
‘Oh, I’m sure.’ Keith’s eyes mist over. ‘You know, years ago, when I first started working for Marc, he asked me to take what I thought was a stupid route to one of his premieres. He was learning a speech in the back of the limo, and I thought to myself, he doesn’t know London like I do. I’ll just drive the quickest way, and he’ll thank me for getting him there faster.
‘So I took my own route, and guess what happened? Paps blocked the road, and we spent an hour stuck in traffic with cameras banging on the windows. Marc knew the paps would be there, of course. He’d planned a back route for us, but I thought I knew best.’
‘Was he angry?’ I ask.
‘No. He just said it was a lesson to trust him in future. And I always have.’
12
When we reach the theatre, Keith drives the car right up to the stage door so there are only inches between us and the security guards. Then he gets out and checks the security guards’ IDs. Only then does he let me out of the car.
I still get a shiver of fear when I see that stage door, but little by little I’m learning to let the past go.
‘Thanks Keith,’ I say, climbing out of the car.
‘Marc asked me to pick you up after your show tonight,’ Keith says. ‘And drive you straight to your dad’s house.’
I chew at my thumbnail again. ‘Will Marc be with you? When you come to pick me up?’
‘He didn’t mention it. But don’t worry. I’m sure he won’t let you out of his sight for long. I’ve never seen him so wrapped up in anybody, and I’ve known him a long time.’
*****
Inside the theatre, I head up to the auditorium and find Leo lounging on the stage, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a glazed doughnut in the other. A box of pink, brown and yellow doughnuts sits beside him.
‘My leading lady!’ Leo gestures to the space beside him. ‘I got you espresso. It sounded like you could use waking up earlier.’
‘Thanks.’ I sit down on the stage and pick up a tiny takeaway espresso cup, wrapping my fingers around the hot cardboard.
‘Doughnut? I bought a heart-shaped one, just for you.’ Leo pushes the box towards me with his flip-flopped foot. His feet are golden brown, and a little roughed up around the edges – surfer’s feet.
I think about what Marc said earlier, about Leo being irresponsible. I can imagine that, when Leo was a teen actor, he could have been a little too carefree. And he still is, in a way. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a good person.
I shake my head. ‘Thanks, but I had a pretty big breakfast.’
‘The breakfast of love, huh?’ Leo says, taking a bite of his doughnut.
I don’t reply.
‘Uh oh. You and Marc on the rocks again?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I say. ‘But something is going on.’
‘Would it have anything to do with all the extra security guards around the place?’ Leo asks. ‘They frisked me this morning before I could enter the theatre. And I’ve got to give some dumb password at the door and show my driver’s licence.’
I laugh.
‘What’s going on?’ Leo asks.
‘I wish I knew.’ I take a tart sip of espresso and wince. It’s too strong for me, but the caffeine is welcome. I should love strong coffee, coming from an Italian background, but I don’t.
My mother used to adore espresso. I remember her buying this huge silver espresso maker for our tiny cottage kitchen. ‘I miss real Italian coffee,’ she’d said. She maybe used the machine once. Then it gathered dust on top of the kitchen cupboards, just like her sandwich toaster, ice-cream maker and a zillion other gadgets.
‘You look very beautiful
this morning, Sophia,’ says Leo.
I blush. ‘Leo—’
‘Oh come on. You must know you’re beautiful, in that natural, Disney-eyed, butter-wouldn’t-melt sort of way. A million guys must have told you so.’
‘Not really.’ I take another sip of my espresso and wince again.
‘A little strong for Miss whiter than white?’ Leo grins.
‘Whoever said I was whiter than white?’
‘I did,’ says Leo, ‘but then again, you’ve hooked up with Marc Blackwell, so I guess you can’t be all that sweet and innocent. Hey, if you two are on the rocks again—’
‘We’re not on the rocks. I should call him. I promised I’d let him know that I arrived safely.’ I take out my mobile, but before I can make the call, Leo reaches forwards and snatches the phone.
‘Leo!’ I shout. ‘Give that back.’
‘Oh no. I’m not having you checking it every five minutes to see if Prince Charming has called. I’ll hang on to this until we’ve finished rehearsals.’
‘Leo, I promised him—’
‘I mean it, Sophia. I’m not going to practise with someone who’s getting distracted all the time.’
‘God!’ I shake my head, exasperated. I’ve never had a little brother, but I’m beginning to understand what having one must be like. ‘Leo, give me my phone. I promised Marc I’d call. He’ll worry.’
‘He should. If you’re with me.’
‘Give me the phone Leo.’ I try to snatch it from him, but he holds it up high. That does it. I climb up on the stage and wrestle his knees until he falls onto the floor.
We end up in a pile together, me on top of Leo trying to claw the phone out of his hand.
‘Okay, okay,’ Leo laughs, holding up his long arm so the phone is out of my reach again. ‘I’ll do you a deal. You can have your phone back so you can call your over-protective boyfriend. But after that, I take the phone for the rest of rehearsals, okay? I don’t want you checking your phone all the time. It’s distracting.’
‘Okay, deal,’ I say, trying to catch my breath.
Leo hands me the phone. ‘Here. I’ll help you up.’ He wraps his arm around me and sits up, throwing me into his lap in the process.
For a moment our faces are inches apart, and I feel the hard muscles of his arms and his toned chest.
‘Why Miss Rose, you’re blushing,’ says Leo.
I extract myself from his lap, embarrassed that there actually is a blush creeping up my neck and over my cheeks. Then I turn my back on Leo and call Marc, still out of breath from our wrestle.
‘Sophia.’ Marc answers straight away.
‘I’m here,’ I tell him. ‘I made it to the theatre.’ I glance over my shoulder. ‘I’m with Leo.’
‘I know,’ Marc says quietly, his tone foreboding.
‘You do?’
‘I’m having you monitored at all times. For your safety.’
‘Oh.’ I swallow, thinking about that little scene with Leo and praying Marc didn’t somehow see it through CCTV cameras or something. ‘Then ... why did you ask me to call?’
‘I like to play safe where you’re concerned,’ Marc says. ‘Make double sure.’
‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on yet?’ I ask.
‘Sophia, it could be nothing at all. I don’t want to worry you. But while I’m looking into things, it’s better that you’re not at the townhouse. That’s all I can say right now.’
Silence. I want to tell him I love him and miss him. That I can’t wait for him to touch me again. That I can’t bear us being apart. But I’m so frightened by his sudden anger and coldness. So instead, all that comes out is, ‘When will I see you again?’
‘Soon, I promise.’
There’s a click, and the line goes dead.
‘Now you can give me the phone,’ says Leo, bounding to his feet. ‘We had a deal, remember?’
I sigh. ‘Fine.’ Reluctantly I hand it to him.
Leo clamps his fingers around the phone. ‘I’m going to store this somewhere you can’t get hold of it. And then you can focus on me and me alone.’
13
Leo and I spend the day rehearsing, drinking coffee and hot chocolate, ordering in fresh ham sandwiches and sponge cake from a Soho deli and just talking about all sorts of things that don’t matter.
At dinner time, we head out to China Town and eat crispy duck pancakes, egg-fried rice and beef in black bean sauce.
Two security guards follow us and wait outside the restaurant while we eat. But still, we have fun.
Leo tells me about his journey from nobody to famous movie star – how he did all sorts of jobs on the way up, from selling surfboards to making smoothies. He tells me about his artist mother and his father who was town mayor for a while.
I tell him a little about my family and how my mother died when I was young.
When Leo asks me again about the security, I’m half tempted to tell him about Giles Getty and the kidnapping, but something in me just can’t get the words out. I’m not ready to talk about that. Not yet.
Jen knows something happened, but doesn’t know the details. After the kidnapping, I phoned her to say something bad happened at the theatre, and that I might be too spooked to go through with my opening night performance. But she doesn’t know much more than that, and she understands me well enough to wait until I’m ready to tell her more.
What Jen does know for sure is that Marc insisted I stay at his townhouse and that he take care of me. I told Jen about all the therapists Marc lined up, and that was enough for her. As long as she knew I was being looked after, she didn’t need to know any more.
*****
Leo and I don’t work too hard at rehearsing because we know we have another big performance tonight.
When show time finally comes around, we’re well practised, but full of energy and in good form. The crowd react well to us and we fix most of the things we felt didn’t work on opening night.
Just like always, time flies when I’m performing and before I know it, Leo and I are doing our final bows and walking off stage.
I’m hoping Marc will be waiting for me in the wings, but he isn’t. Instead, Keith is there – which takes me by surprise.
‘Keith, what are you doing here?’ I ask, picking up the skirts of my costume and walking towards him.
‘I’ve come to pick you up.’
‘Isn’t Marc here?’ I ask tentatively.
‘No. Sorry. I know I’m no substitute.’
‘You’ll do just fine,’ I say. ‘Thanks for coming to get me.’
Leo appears beside me. ‘Where’s Prince Charming?’
‘I was hoping to see him. But ... I guess he has his reasons for not being here.’
‘If you were my girlfriend, I’d be waiting for you after every show.’
I give him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. ‘I doubt that,’ I say. ‘You strike me as the sort of guy who’d be there the first few nights with the biggest bunch of flowers ever, and then get bored and be off chatting up one of the dancers.’
Leo laughs. ‘Oh, so cruel!’
‘Can I have my phone back now?’
Leo rolls his eyes. ‘Sure. It’s in my dressing room. I’ll go get it for you.’
14
There are no missed calls or text messages on my phone, and I can’t help feeling like something more is happening than just some safety thing. Why wouldn’t Marc have called, even just to check that I was okay?
I keep the phone in my lap all the way to my dad’s house, but there isn’t so much as a bleep or a flash. As we near my village, the reception bar creeps lower and lower until it hovers between one bar and no service. Our village council campaigned to keep a mobile phone mast out of our area, so there’s still only reception when the wind blows a certain way.
‘Keith,’ I ask, as we pull up outside the cottage. ‘Has Marc told you anything more about what’s going on?’
‘Not exactly,’ says Keith. ‘All I k
now is that he’s been tightening security today. I’ve been swamped with messages about new procedures and passwords.’
I’m about to climb out of the car when Keith holds up a hand to stop me. ‘Wait. I’m to escort you right to the door. New instructions.’
‘Okay.’ I’m beginning to feel really anxious now. Both about all the security and Marc not calling. When Marc and I are apart my body craves him, and the thought of being away from him tonight ... it almost hurts. I need to call him.
Keith comes around to open the car door and just as he does, I see a flash of black outside the front garden.
‘What was that?’ I gasp.
‘Security,’ says Keith, helping me out. ‘They’ll be surrounding the perimeter of your dad’s cottage and stationed on the roads leading down here too. One good thing about these little country places – the roads are very easy to monitor. Not like London.’
I step out of the car, my legs a little shaky.
Keith shuts the car door behind me. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned about. But better safe than sorry.’
I nod, and walk up the gravel path towards the house. Everything’s dark, and I realise that Dad has no idea I’m coming down here tonight. In all the weirdness of today, and my phone being locked away by Leo, I totally forgot to call him.
I knock softly on the wooden door and wait for an answer.
Silence.
‘Everything okay?’ Keith asks.
‘It looks like no one’s home,’ I say, confused.
‘Maybe they’re all asleep.’
‘Not Dad. He works shifts as a taxi driver. He’s a night owl. He stays awake until three or four in the morning, usually. I guess he could be at work, but he doesn’t usually work weekdays this late.’
I knock again, wincing at the loud noise in the darkness.
Inside the cottage, I hear a clunk and then Sammy starts crying.
‘Whoops,’ I whisper
The door creaks open and I see Dad, looking sleepy and bleary eyed.
‘Dad?’ I say. ‘Were you asleep?’
‘Oh. Hello love. I didn’t realise it was Christmas Eve already.’
