by Suzy K Quinn
‘You know, sometimes I think that too. I’m very lucky. I know that.’
‘How self-aware.’ She leans down and snorts up another line.
‘Listen Sigourney, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I came looking for you, actually. You’re upset—’
Sigourney laughs. ‘Don’t give me that bullshit. You don’t care. You’re just pretending. Trying to look like the nice girl. I can see through you. It takes one to know one.’
‘Honestly, I really do care. I don’t want you to be upset. How can I help you?’
Sigourney turns her big, beautiful eyes on me. ‘Give me Marc.’
‘Sigourney, I’m really sorry Marc hurt you—’
‘Like fuck you are,’ Sigourney snaps. ‘Why is it always the bastards I love? I would have done anything for Marc. Anything. One day I was in his bed, the next day he told me it was over. Just like that. No explanation. Nothing. I tried to make him jealous with Leo, but he barely even noticed.’
‘You used Leo?’
Sigourney gives a harsh laugh. ‘Marc said he hoped I’d be happy. Happy. With some whiter-than-white surfer bum. America’s fucking hero, Leo Falkirk. When I had Marc. Someone with a worse dark side than me. Someone who understood me …’
She places the banknote in a little silver case and snaps the lid closed. ‘So why did you get him? What’s so great about you? Does he tie you up?’
‘Sigourney, I’m not having this conversation.’
‘Do you love it? I loved it. God! I miss him. The things he used to do …’
‘You know I think Baz really likes you—’
‘Baz can’t keep his dick in his pants for more than five minutes. When the next pretty girl comes along I’ll be history.’
‘You shouldn’t be messing around with him,’ I say. ‘If you’re not really interested.’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. But I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to totally put myself out there to be chewed up and spat out. I can’t believe Leo’s getting married. That hurts. You know? He always said he didn’t believe in marriage. He didn’t give a shit about me.’
‘He cared about you. He told me.’
Sigourney slides the silver case into her bag. ‘Maybe once. But not any more.’ She pushes open the toilet door. ‘The rain has stopped. Time to start filming. Don’t tell Nadia about the coke, okay? She has a stick up her arse about drugs.’
As I watch her stride back to the marquee on her long legs, I think about Marc. Having sex with Sigourney. Tying her up …
I shake those thoughts away.
He has a past, Sophia. You always knew that.
But why was he at the gates?
I think about what Marc said in the woods. About feeling protective and wanting to rip people’s heads off.
Was he spying on me?
I take out my phone to call him again, but think better of it. This is something we should talk about in person. Tonight.
53
When Marc picks me up that evening he seems serious. Angry, even. He doesn’t mention our flirty texts earlier or my missed phone call.
‘Marc,’ I ask, climbing into the car. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘You look tired,’ he interrupts. ‘If they’re working you too hard—’
‘They’re not. But Marc—’
‘Look Sophia. Whatever you want to talk about sounds important. So can it wait until we’re home? Maybe we should unwind a little before embarking on any heavy conversations.’
‘Fine. Yes it can wait until then.’
I twiddle my hair, watching London glide by.
Back at the townhouse, I ask if we can sit in the garden.
Everything is growing so well out here now. Lavender, olive trees, meadowy grass … it’s beautiful. And I’ve strung solar lights in the trees to give it a kind of fairy land feel. Like the woods on our wedding day.
Marc and I sit together on a cushioned, wicker garden sofa. The rain has totally blown over, leaving a blue sky, tumbling white clouds and setting pink sun.
‘So what is this important thing you want to talk about?’ Marc asks, taking a tumbler of iced whisky from Rodney.
‘You can’t guess?’ I say, as Rodney hands me iced soda water with lemon.
‘I’m not a big fan of guessing games.’
‘First of all, I totally understand that you’re feeling very protective of me. And that you might do things that you wouldn’t ordinarily do.’
Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘This sounds interesting. What exactly are you getting at?’
‘How come you were outside the set today? Were you keeping an eye on me?’
Marc frowns. ‘Sophia—’
‘I know you’re feeling protective. But I wish you’d told me you were coming. It was weird seeing you there and not expecting to. And the fact you haven’t mentioned it …’
Marc frowns and takes a sip of whisky. ‘You’re mistaken. You must have imagined seeing me today. You’ve been very tired lately.’
‘Marc I—’
‘Sophia, just drop it. Okay?’
‘What’s going on? Why can’t you just admit—’
‘There’s nothing to admit,’ Marc shouts. ‘Now I told you to drop it.’
‘Marc!’
‘Look … I’m sorry I shouted.’ He takes my hands again and fixes me with stomach-melting eyes. ‘You see why I worry about being a father? I don’t want to lose control.’
‘I already told you, there’s nothing to worry about.’ But my heart is pounding. ‘Marc. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to London Bridge?’
‘Because I wasn’t there. You were mistaken. Now let’s just forget this, shall we?’
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Yes, I have been tired. Probably I was mistaken.’
And maybe I was. It makes more sense than Marc turning up outside the set without telling me.
Rodney brings out two mozzarella salads with bright red tomatoes and fresh basil. He sets them on a wrought-iron table near my elbow.
‘I know you’ve already eaten,’ says Marc. ‘But I thought you might want a snack before bed. They say pregnancy gives you an appetite.’
As I look at the delicious salad, a wave of nausea hits me.
I put a hand to my mouth and close my eyes.
‘Sophia. Are you okay?’
I nod. ‘Just a little … sick that’s all. The doctor said this might happen. Remember?’
‘I remember. But as I recall she said morning sickness. It’s seven thirty in the evening.’
‘I think it can come at any time.’ I close my eyes as another wave hits me.
‘Rodney!’ Marc calls. ‘Would you take the salads away please?’
Rodney whisks the plates away, and I’m grateful.
‘Would you like something else?’ Marc asks. ‘A light broth perhaps? Or a lemon tea?’
‘Lemon tea sounds good.’
But when Rodney brings me tea, I can’t drink it.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, pushing the tea away. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
‘I’ll call the doctor,’ says Marc. ‘Ask for a private visit.’
‘It’s far too late—’
‘I don’t care how late it is. You’re not well.’
I manage a smile. ‘Marc, I think this is normal.’
‘For you not to eat? When you’re carrying a baby? Sophia, I’m calling the doctor whether you like it or not.’
54
Marc carries me to the bedroom and tucks me under the duvet.
The nausea is settling down now, although my stomach still feels sea sick.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For looking after me.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’ Marc sits on the edge of the bed.
‘You shouldn’t be worried. It’s just morning sickness. It’s normal.’
‘Still. It’s important to have you checked over. Just in case. If anything happened to you—’
‘Marc, this is just pre
gnancy. I’m fine.’
‘I know. But still. It’s hard. Seeing you ill.’
‘It’s only a little bit of sickness. I think I can cope.’
‘Let’s see what the doctor has to say.’
Dr Christian arrives half an hour later.
‘Well missy,’ she says, bringing a chair to the bed. ‘Marc tells me you’ve been having some sickness. Perfectly normal, but I’ll check you over just in case.’
‘I told him it was normal,’ I say. ‘He insisted on calling you. I would have just slept.’
Dr Christian smiles. ‘He’s worried about you. Like any good would-be father. This kind of thing is hard for men. Nature. They tend to want to control everything. But the truth is nature can’t be controlled. It does what it likes.’
‘I know.’ I struggle to sit up in bed. ‘Oh wow. I really do feel sick today.’
‘Do you think you’re actually going to vomit?’ Dr Christian asks.
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think so. I just don’t really want to eat.’
‘Don’t worry too much. If you can’t eat anything at all by tomorrow afternoon, give me a call.’
‘Okay.’
Dr Christian checks me over and declares me in perfect health.
‘You know, morning sickness is a good sign,’ she tells me. ‘It says your body is preparing the hormones you need.’
‘I’m glad there’s a positive,’ I say.
‘Get a good night’s sleep. Plenty of fluid if you can manage it. Rest. Hopefully you’ll feel better tomorrow.’
The next morning, I wake up in a foetal position with Marc’s arms around me.
I’d hoped to feel hungry. But instead I feel sick. Really sick. Even worse than last night. The thought of breakfast makes me want to throw up.
I push Marc’s arm off and run to the toilet.
I only just make it and throw up as quietly as I can. But I should have known Marc would hear and as I’m wiping my mouth I see his bare feet behind me.
‘Sophia—’
‘Go back to bed Marc. I don’t want you to see me like this.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He stoops down. ‘You look beautiful to me all the time. All the time.’
He hands me a tissue and I dab my mouth.
‘Water?’ Marc asks, his voice soft.
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think I can stomach anything just now.’
‘Let me help you back to bed.’
‘But I need to get to work. To the film set.’
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘Marc I have to. I promised Nadia that pregnancy wouldn’t make a difference. And she’s rearranged the whole filming schedule for me. Morning sickness can go on for months and months. I can’t stay in bed the whole time.’
Marc’s thick, dark eyebrows pull into a frown. ‘Sophia, nothing is more important than your health. And the health of our baby. Nadia will understand—’
‘I’m going.’ I get to my feet and walk into the bedroom, grabbing a silk dressing gown. ‘Maybe there’s something I can manage for breakfast.’
55
In the kitchen, Rodney prepares a whole menu – pastries, smoothies, porridge, yoghurt … but I can’t manage any of it. The only thing I can cope with is tiny sips of sparkling water.
Marc stays by my side, watching me with concern.
‘I don’t want you going to the film set today,’ he says.
‘I know. But I have to.’
‘Sophia—’
‘Marc, we’ve been through this. I’m not going to change my mind. If I feel like I can’t cope I’ll come home. Okay?’
‘At least let me accompany you on set.’
‘For today,’ I say. ‘But after that we have to carry on as normal.’
‘I can’t agree to that.’
‘Marc.’ I take his hands. ‘Listen. I’m going to be pregnant for a long time. We have to have something of a normal life. Will you please support me? Pretty please? I agreed to do this movie.’
‘I know that.’ Marc sighs. ‘I will support you. But the second I think something could be affecting your health—’
‘The doctor said I was fine. It’s just morning sickness. I should get dressed. I need to be on set.’
It turns out to be a long day. The sickness doesn’t go away and in fact gets much worse when I’m near coffee or the buffet lunch table.
I don’t want to admit I’m feeling sick, so I tell Nadia that Marc is here to keep me company. I can tell she doesn’t quite believe me, but she’s too polite to question it.
Every time I visit the toilet, I return to find Sigourney trying to talk to Marc.
It’s annoying, but that’s all it is. In fact, her flirting helps me realise how uninterested Marc is. He practically turns his back on her, and is clearly sick and tired of her efforts to chat him up.
My jealousy vanishes, and instead of thinking about my own feelings, I notice Baz.
He looks sad.
It’s sort of sweet in a way. This big strong man hung up over a girl. I’ve seen Baz in movies before and he usually plays ruthless, murdering psychopaths. Men to be feared. It’s nice to know he has a soft side.
‘Give me a minute,’ I tell Marc. ‘I just want to talk to Baz.’
‘Why?’ Marc asks.
‘Just … I’ll be back in a second.’
I head over to Baz and grab the chair beside him.
‘Hey,’ I say.
Baz gives me a tired smile. ‘What’s up princess? You’ve got bored of Marc already?’
‘That princess nickname really has stuck, hasn’t it?’
‘It’s well deserved.’
‘So how are you doing?’
‘Not great.’
‘How are things with you and Sigourney?’
‘Fucking terrible.’ Baz downs his Red Bull. ‘I liked her, I really did. But she doesn’t get that I could be good for her. She’s freaking out.’
‘There’ll be other girls—’
‘Not like her.’ He throws his Red Bull can in the bin. ‘I thought she could be the one. Finally.’
‘You could see yourself with Sigourney?’
Baz nods. ‘I could be good for her. I understand messed up. She just needs someone who can put her in line. Hey.’ He puts a friendly arm around my shoulder. ‘You’re a good girl, princess. You know that?’
I feel Marc’s shadow over us.
‘Is this man bothering you Sophia?’ says Marc. He’s joking. Sort of.
‘We were just talking about relationships,’ I say.
‘Make sure Baz knows you already have one.’
Baz laughs. ‘Like I’d mess with your girl. I’ve seen you fight, remember? You’re fucking lethal.’
‘I was taught by the best.’
Nadia hurries over to us with a clipboard. ‘Sophia! You’re up, honey pie. It’s time for you and Leo’s big scene. Are you ready?’
‘Me and Leo?’ I ask, glancing at Marc. ‘I thought it was me and Ruby today. And me and Leo tomorrow.’ I lower my voice meaningfully.
Nadia doesn’t catch my tone. ‘No, no, I made a change. I thought – hey, if you and Leo are going to have this big romantic moment, it should be by this fabulous building.’ She waves her hand at the Tower of London. ‘Right? I mean what a backdrop for some hot love action.’
‘Hot love action?’ says Marc, his voice low.
56
Nadia laughs. ‘Do I detect a little jealousy Mr Marc Blackwell? It’s only kissing. We’ll do the bedroom stuff later.’
‘I’m sorry Marc.’ I put a hand on his forearm. ‘I didn’t realise we’d be doing this today.’
‘But you’re okay?’ Nadia turns concerned brown eyes on me. ‘You’re not going to freak out or anything? Because the big bad husband is here?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Good.’ Nadia puts an arm around my shoulder. ‘Because I want this scene to be smoking hot, okay?’
Marc frowns. ‘Nadia
, must you have this conversation in front of me? Sophia is my wife.’
‘Sorry, sorry. But Marc – hey, this is acting. You should know that better than anyone.’
Baz snorts. ‘Who, Marc? He usually sleeps with the women he acts with.’
A wave of nausea washes over me and I put a hand to my mouth.
‘Sophia.’ Marc puts an arm around me. ‘Are you okay?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m okay. Just tell Baz to stop talking.’
‘Gladly,’ says Marc.
‘Sorry mate.’ Baz holds his metal-gloved hands up. ‘Me and my big mouth. You know how I am. I see a joke, I just have to tell it.’
‘Morning sickness?’ Nadia asks.
I nod.
‘You should have said. I had it so bad with my second. You poor love.’
‘Honestly I’m okay,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to be treated any different. I’m here to do a job like everyone else. I just need to get on with it.’
‘Spoken like a true professional. Come on.’ Nadia helps me to my feet. ‘Let’s go set you up. Marc – you wait here. I don’t want you watching this scene.’
‘Why not?’ Marc asks.
‘You know why not. Sophia won’t be able to relax with you looking over her shoulder. This is the scene for the trailer, the poster shots … everything. I want steam coming off these two and I don’t want you killing it. Okay?’
‘Christ – I should never have agreed to let you do this,’ says Marc, but he manages a tiny smile.
‘You didn’t let me do it,’ I say. ‘I chose to do it. As a free thinking woman.’ I squeeze his hands. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
‘You’d better be. Or I’m coming to get you.’
57
Nadia leads me around the Tower of London to a patch of grass where ravens scratch and peck.
Leo waits by a flag pole with his hands on his hips, dressed in his handsome prince costume – leather belts strapped across his torso, sword swinging and scuffed riding boots. His blond hair is messed up and decorated with fake mud.
