by Suzy K Quinn
‘It’s a picture of a horse,’ I say. But I know Marc better than that. He wouldn’t just give me a picture of a horse as a present. Which means ...
‘She’s yours,’ says Marc softly.
‘You’re kidding me.’ I stare at the picture of the beautiful horse, with its shiny coat and beautiful black eyes. ‘I … Marc I …’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know if I can accept this. I mean, I only got you a homemade bracelet, and this is …’
‘She’ll keep you company while you’re away from me,’ says Marc. ‘Her name is Ebony. She’s has a very good nature. I have people at my stable who’ll take care of her. But you can see her, ride her, whenever you like.’
I get to my feet and throw my arms around Marc, hurling myself into his body. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘This is … an amazing present.’
‘I’ll take you to see her today,’ says Marc. ‘She’s an hour or so from here. On the farm we visited before.’
‘Your farm,’ I say.
‘Our farm.’
I’m suddenly aware that there are other people around and peel myself away from Marc.
‘We should … shall we all have a cup of tea?’
*****
Later that day, while the others are relaxing in the lounge, Marc offers to take me to see Ebony.
‘Will Keith drive us?’ I ask.
Marc shakes his head. ‘My Aston Martin was couriered over while we were preparing the dinner. I’m going to drive us.’
I smile. ‘Sounds good.’
Jen and Annabel are having fun playing Scrabble, and Denise and my Dad are talking away, drinking tea and eating chocolate biscuits, so nobody misses us when we head out.
We drive to the farm in silence, happy to be together, but both lost in our own thoughts. There’s a lot to think about after what Dad had to say.
When we arrive at the farm, I notice security guards surrounding the perimeter.
‘Marc.’ I turn to him as the car bumps over the muddy track towards the main house. ‘You said you were going to tell me what’s going on with all the security after Christmas. Well. I think my Christmas is pretty much over. So. Will you tell me?’
Marc pulls the car to a stop. ‘Okay.’ He stares out of the windscreen at the open countryside and I follow his gaze, seeing the bare trees sway in the icy wind. ‘Maybe it’ll help you understand why I’m not fighting your father’s decision too much.’
A pause.
‘Marc?’
‘My legal team are taking care of Getty. You don’t need to worry about him coming anywhere near you. But there’s something else.’
‘Okay.’ I swallow.
‘There are others.’
‘Others? What do you mean?’
‘Getty was part of an underground network. They’re known as PAIN. They have clubs throughout London. Few people know about them. But they’re very protective of their members. Word has got out that Getty has been imprisoned. And so it looks like the leaders of this group want to take revenge on the people who put him behind bars.’
‘They want to take revenge on us?’
‘That’s what it looks like.’
I feel sick. ‘Do the police know about this group?’
‘Not exactly.’ Marc shakes his head. ‘Not yet, anyway. That has to be handled very delicately. PAIN are clever. If we make the wrong accusations too soon, the police might not be able to prosecute them at all.’
Silence.
‘Marc?’
‘There’s something else too.’ Marc grips the steering wheel. ‘Someone else, actually. Wrapped up in all this. Out for revenge.’
‘Who?’
Marc turns to me. ‘Cecile.’
38
‘Cecile from Ivy College?’ I ask.
‘Yes. PAIN sought her out after Getty was taken into custody. She’s been seen in their night clubs.’
‘She’s never liked me,’ I say, feeling strangely numb inside. ‘And now she has more reason to hate me than ever.’
‘I don’t know for certain how Cecile could be involved with them,’ says Marc. ‘But what I do know is that, right now, it’s not safe for you to be at my townhouse.’
‘That I don’t understand,’ I say. ‘I thought your townhouse was secure.’
‘It is. Against almost everybody.’
‘Almost everybody?’
‘There’s a woman. One of PAIN’s leaders. Her name is Yasmina. She knows the townhouse inside and out. Security systems. Layout. Everything.’
My blood runs cold. ‘How?’
‘She worked for me. As my PA. Years ago. I hired her at Getty’s suggestion. She was Getty’s way of hooking into me. Of making sure he had a hold over me. She knows things about the townhouse. And about me. She’s clever. Very, very clever. And ruthless. She and PAIN’s other leader, Warren, have been accused of some fairly sickening crimes. But nothing has ever stuck.’
I nod slowly, feeling even sicker now. ‘This Yasmina. Were the two of you …’ I let the question trail away.
‘No.’ Marc shakes his head firmly. ‘Never. She and I had different tastes in that department.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘PAIN are clever,’ says Marc. ‘Discreet. I need to wait for them to make a move. But until then, I don’t think it’s such a bad thing that we’re apart. I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.’
‘I don’t want you in the crossfire either,’ I say, sliding a shaking hand into his. ‘Marc, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’
‘You needn’t worry about me,’ says Marc. ‘I can look after myself. It’s you we need to watch out for.’
‘I guess I should warn Tom and Tanya. Cecile might try and cause trouble for them at college.’
‘Cecile is no longer at Ivy College.’
‘She isn’t?’
‘No. She’s been asked to leave. It was clear she was having psychological difficulties, and I won’t have anyone threatening one of my pupils. You or anyone else. She was offered the chance to get psychological treatment at our expense, but she refused. So right now she’s on her own. But she’s being watched. They’re all being watched. I promise this will be handled.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘Let’s go and see your horse.’
*****
As soon as I clap eyes on Ebony, it’s love at first sight. She’s absolutely beautiful, and a good size too – not huge like Taranu, but not too small either. Her coat shines like stars on a clear night.
Marc gives me some oatmeal to feed her, and after a few handfuls she whinnies, nuzzles my hand and lets me stroke her flank.
‘Do you want to ride her?’ Marc asks.
‘I’d love to,’ I say. ‘But I can’t leave Sammy with Dad for too long. I’ll come back when Christmas is over. She’ll help me, I think. When I’m missing you.’
*****
The rest of Christmas day feels a little subdued. We eat cheese and biscuits for tea, drink champagne and play more games, but every moment is blackened by knowing that before long Marc and I will be forced apart. How am I going to stand it?
We squeeze each other’s hands every so often, telling each other, wordlessly, how much we love each other. But when I look at Marc, I can tell he’s deep in thought, trying to get his feelings under control about what lies ahead.
When late evening comes, Denise, Annabel and Jen say their goodbyes and Dad stumbles up to bed. With Sammy already fast asleep, Marc and I head out to the garden to be alone together.
We stand by the tall trees looking up into the black sky, knowing we don’t have long before Marc has to leave.
I can feel Marc’s warmth against my face and neck. Having him beside me is both beautiful and heartbreaking.
Eventually, I say, ‘How was your Christmas?’
‘Not quite what I had planned. But I’m still glad I got to spend the day with you.’
‘Me too. It really was the best Christmas, if only for that reason.’
I watch a squirrel run up i
nto bare tree branches.
‘I guess I should go,’ says Marc. ‘It’s nearly time.’
‘I guess it is.’ I swallow, trying to be hard and practical like Marc. Trying not to let thoughts of our separation overwhelm me. But I can’t. My face crumples.
‘I hate to see you hurting,’ says Marc through gritted teeth.
‘And here I was trying to be strong,’ I try to laugh, but the laugh gets all choked up with tears. I let out a long breath. ‘It’s only three months. Not an eternity. And we can still speak to each other once a week.’ I place both palms flat on his chest. ‘And when it’s done, we can be together. Forever.’
Marc’s lips quirk up at the corners. ‘Does that mean you’re accepting my proposal, Sophia Rose?’
‘You’ll have to ask me again, if you want an answer to that question.’
‘I intend to.’
39
I sit in the dark lounge, watching as Marc’s car pulls away. Wheels crunch over gravel, and then he’s gone.
And I’m all alone. In the dark.
A low, flat mood overtakes me.
I sit, staring at the place where Marc’s car was parked. Then I climb the stairs and throw myself into bed.
I sleep like the dead, and don’t wake until late the next morning.
*****
‘Hey pretty lady. Penny for your thoughts?’ Leo Falkirk walks onto the stage wearing nothing but skin-tight y-fronts, emblazoned with the Texan flag. His body is lethally toned and tanned, and blond hair falls across his muscled chest.
I’m on stage in leggings and a long, loose t-shirt, staring wide-eyed at Leo’s choice of costume.
‘Please don’t tell me that’s what you’re planning on wearing for the show tonight,’ I say.
‘These are for rehearsals and your eyes only,’ Leo replies with a boyish grin. ‘I thought they might cheer you up. Get you out of your slump.’
Leo and I don’t really have to rehearse anymore, since the show is doing really well. But we’re both committed to performing as best as we possibly can, so we practise between shows, feeding on reviews and audience reaction.
‘I haven’t been in a slump,’ I counter.
‘Not during the shows maybe, but ooo-eee! You haven’t been much fun the rest of the time.’
‘Sorry Leo. I just can’t make myself feel excited about much right now. Everything feels like an endurance.’
I take a seat on a purple couch, which looks soft, but is actually stuffed with cardboard. The set has been laid out for the scene in Beast’s house, when Beauty reads Beast poetry.
‘I know, I know,’ says Leo, swaggering towards me. ‘Because of M.A.R.C and the star crossed lovers being cruelly torn apart. My heart goes out for you. It does.’ He thumps his chest and pretends to swoon. ‘But you know – you two did always seem kind of intense to me. A break might do you good. Help you see that there are other men out there besides Marc Blackwell.’
‘Did you pick those up from a souvenir shop back home?’ I say, nodding at his underpants.
‘Nope.’ Leo takes a seat on the couch beside me and slings a bare arm around my shoulder. ‘Christmas gift. From my mom.’
‘Nice the two of you get on so well.’
‘She has a sense of humour, my mom,’ says Leo. ‘Maybe you should try it. You’ve been sour faced for weeks now. Ever since Boxing Day. Here. This might cheer you up too.’ He bounds off stage and returns with a tabloid newspaper, which he throws into my lap.
My mouth drops open as I read the headline.
Getty Gets Life
40
I look up at Leo. Does he know? Does he know what happened to me?
‘Leo, how did you—’
‘He’s one of the paps who was bothering you, right?’ says Leo. ‘The one who was behind all those bad stories?’
‘That’s him,’ I say slowly, my eyes scanning down to the article.
‘I thought you might be happy to hear he’s gone to jail.’
I nod, reading the article. It doesn’t mention my name at all – only that Getty was involved in a kidnapping and sado masochistic sex ring, and that he’s been sentenced to life in prison.
There are pictures of Getty being taken into a police van in handcuffs. He looks pale and old, and his trademark sideburns have grown straggly and out of shape.
‘Oh my god,’ I say, reading more text. ‘It mentions Cecile.’
‘Who’s Cecile?’ asks Leo.
‘She’s ... a girl from my college.’
The newspaper doesn’t say that Cecile used to date Getty. It just calls her a ‘friend’, and quotes her as saying:
‘It’s a sad day for British justice when the innocent go to prison and the guilty walk free. I won’t let Giles’s imprisonment go unpunished. I have powerful friends, and we intend to make sure the person truly responsible for this crime feels pain.’
PAIN.
A sickly shiver goes through me.
‘Are you okay, Soph?’ says Leo, taking the limp paper from my hands. ‘You’ve gone kind of pale.’
‘Fine.’ I try to slap a smile onto my face.
‘You’re not fooling me,’ says Leo.
‘Okay, fine.’ I let the smile slide away. ‘Better?’
‘More honest, at least. I’d have thought you’d be happy today. Friday, right? Isn’t this the day you’re allowed to call Prince Charming? Your weekly phone call? Do you have a warden standing beside you while you make it?’
‘No. Marc’s going to call me after the show.’
‘Uh oh,’ says Leo.
‘Uh oh?’
‘Does that mean you’re going to spend the whole of tonight’s show wrapped up in thoughts of Marc Blackwell, forgetting your lines, missing your cues ...’
‘Of course not,’ I say. ‘Since when have I ever done that? Performing is the only time I forget about Marc.’
‘What about when we rehearse?’
‘Maybe a little. Sometimes.’
‘Just a little?’
We’re interrupted by Davina, storming along the rows of seats, her red fingernails gripping a rolled-up newspaper.
‘Hey Davina,’ says Leo, standing tall so she can get the full view of his underpants. ‘How’s it shaking?’
Davina doesn’t seem to notice what Leo’s wearing. ‘We got THIS review today,’ she says, waving the paper around. ‘Sophia, you need to do better. Try harder.’
I stand up. ‘Can I see the review?’
‘Here.’ Davina reaches the stage and throws the newspaper at my feet. I flick to the review pages and begin to read. Leo reads over my shoulder.
‘Davina, this review isn’t so bad,’ he says.
‘It’s terrible,’ says Davina. ‘Didn’t you see what it said, about taking a chance hiring an unknown, inexperienced actress?’
‘Yes, but Leo’s right,’ I say. ‘That’s about as bad as it gets. Other than that, it’s not bad at all. Okay, not great. But definitely not terrible. There’s stuff here we can work on.’
Leo nods. ‘I agree with Sophia. Anyway, the audiences are loving the show. We’re getting great blog and online reviews.’
Davina looks at me. ‘It was always going to be a gamble hiring you. We were bound to get some bad reviews.’
‘Davina, this isn’t a bad review,’ I say, beginning to feel annoyed. I thought she’d got over her problem with me after all the great audience feedback we’ve been getting. But I guess not.
‘It could be better.’
‘And it could be worse,’ I say, hearing volume and colour in my voice. ‘Much worse. Like Leo said, the audiences are loving the show. And we’re working our arses off to improve all the time. When are you going to give me a break?’
‘A break?’ Davina blinks at me.
‘Ever since we started this show, Leo’s been your hero and I’ve been your villain. But the show’s doing well. Really well. Much better than expected. All the newspapers are saying so.’ I wave the paper at her. ‘Even th
is review says that ticket sales are strong. What on earth is your problem?’
Davina takes a step back, and stumbles a little on her high heels. ‘Well … if you feel so strongly … I suppose maybe I picked a bad time …’
‘There’s never a good time,’ I say. ‘You always think the worse of me. When’s it going to stop? Do I need to be a big Hollywood star before you’ll accept that I add value to the show?’
Davina looks at the ground. ‘Maybe I’ve been coming across wrong … I apologise if anything was misinterpreted …’ She lifts her head and pastes on a smile. ‘Let’s start again. Okay? I’ll try harder to see things from your point of view.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, tired suddenly. ‘Let’s try and start again.’
‘Great!’ says Davina brightly. ‘Well. I’ll let you two rehearse while I grab a coffee. Can’t wait to see the show tonight.’ She suddenly notices Leo’s underpants. ‘And for goodness sake Leo, put some clothes on. You’re not a Chippendale.’
Leo lets out a spurt of laughter as Davina walks away. ‘About time you told her off. I was wondering when you’d snap.’
‘I just wanted to get things straight. I’ve got too much on my mind right now to deal with Davina’s hate campaign.’
‘Like Marc Blackwell?’ says Leo, raising an eyebrow.
‘More than that,’ I say. ‘Security stuff.’
‘I know I can’t compete with Mr Perfect,’ says Leo, ‘but I just want you to know, while you and Marc are apart, I’ll look after you. Okay? I care about you. I don’t want anything bad happening to my co-star.’
‘Thanks Leo. That’s very sweet.’
Leo laughs. ‘That’s something I’ve never been called before.’
41
That night, the show is great and the audience is great, but as Keith and I drive towards Dad’s cottage, I realise my phone reception is not great. And it’s getting worse. I don’t want to risk Marc not being able to get through.
‘Change of plan,’ I tell Keith. ‘I’m going to stay at Ivy College tonight. Can you turn the car around? I need somewhere with good phone signal.’
‘No problem,’ says Keith, indicating and pulling over.
