by Paige Toon
‘Are you okay?’ Lizzy asks me when the credits start to roll.
‘No,’ I mumble. ‘I’m so confused.’
She has to lean in to hear me because I’m speaking so quietly.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘I want to watch Sky Rocket,’ I tell her in a daze. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got it on DVD?’
‘As a matter of fact . . .’ She gets to her feet. ‘I do.’
She’s exhausted, but she manages to stay up with me while we watch Sky Rocket, and he’s incredible in it – I’m completely and utterly enthralled. It’s a sci-fi flick, but not a full-on action film. Lizzy tells me that Hong Kong Kid was a martial arts film and he had to master kung fu for the role, but he had only a small part in that. This is more of a futuristic drama set in space, with a fair few fight scenes thrown in for good measure. There’s also a love scene in it which turns my stomach into a jittering mess. My heart thump, thump, thumps and I’m on the edge of my seat as I watch him take that evilly beautiful actress with raw desire. Jealousy courses through my veins, even though I know it’s not real, it’s only an act, but it’s harder to tear my eyes away than it is to watch it.
‘I can see what you saw in him,’ Lizzy says when it’s finished.
She has no idea how horrible her comment makes me feel. What I saw in him is very different to what she and the rest of the female population see in him now. Isn’t it? Oh, God, maybe it’s not.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks me when I don’t answer.
‘Do you still have that copy of Strike?’
I see her hesitate. I can see how tired she is. ‘Yes . . .’
‘You go to bed,’ I say quickly. ‘I know you’re knackered.’
‘It’s just that Ellie will probably wake up in an hour and I’ll be up half the night with her . . .’
‘Of course, of course.’ I feel bad for even asking. ‘We’ll chat in the morning.’
‘You’re going to watch it?’ she asks. ‘It’s not the copy that Jessie lent us,’ she adds hurriedly. ‘That would have been a very long “rental” period.’
‘Did you buy a copy for yourself?’ I can’t not ask.
‘Yeah.’ She tries to brush it off.
Thinking about it, Sky Rocket came out on DVD only a couple of weeks ago. The fact that she’s also got a copy of that . . . The realisation that she’s a fan of Joe’s is surreal and makes me feel very strange.
I decide I’d rather not know any more.
‘I’ll get your bedding first,’ she says, standing up. It’s only a small two-bed flat so I’m sleeping in the living room. I walk over to the DVDs on the shelves and look through them until I come across Strike, then I go to the DVD player and put it in. Lizzy returns and helps me make up the sofa.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
She comes over and gives me a hug. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks again.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I say dismissively. ‘Get some sleep!’
‘I will. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
She squeezes my arm and leaves the room. I climb into my makeshift bed and press Play.
I don’t sleep at all that night. Strike is gritty and real and I understand what the director says about Joe’s pain translating to the audience, because it does; I feel it in my core and I’m one of very few people in the world who know why he’s hurting so much.
After Strike, I surf the internet for interviews and articles, photographs and videos, until I feel like I’ve seen everything that there is to see.
Finally I can ignore the truth no longer. I have to admit that I still love Joe. I feel like I’ve cheated on Lukas, but I still love Joe. Along, it seems, with every other woman on the planet.
I hear Ellie wake up at six o’clock in the morning. Lizzy goes to get her some milk from the kitchen. I call out to her on her way back.
‘Sorry, did she wake you?’ she asks, coming into the living room.
‘I haven’t been asleep,’ I admit.
‘You’ve been up all night?’ She looks shocked, then she glances at her open laptop screen and it dawns on her. ‘Ah.’
‘Yeah,’ I say sheepishly.
‘You’ve caught the bug.’ She looks amused.
I don’t like that description. ‘Do you want me to take Ellie so you can go back to sleep?’ I change the subject.
‘No, I’m awake now,’ she says. ‘Thanks, though. She didn’t sleep too badly in the end.’
‘She slept straight through, didn’t she?’
‘She woke up at one thirty,’ Ellie tells me. ‘You were still in the thralls of Strike,’ she says teasingly.
I wish she’d stop making these comments. I’m not just another Strike Stalker. The press coined that term.
‘You’ll have to go and see Night Fox next,’ she adds.
‘I was thinking I might go today,’ I tell her, feeling a prickle of guilt about Lukas and trying to stifle it.
‘Ooh, yes!’ she exclaims. ‘I’d see it again!’
‘Have you already seen it?’
‘Twice.’ She giggles. Bloody hell, she really must be a fan. ‘I’ll ask Dad if he can take Ellie.’
Speaking of whom . . .
‘MUM-MUM-MUM-MUMMY!’ The cry comes from the next room.
Lizzy lifts up the beaker of milk. ‘Back in a tic.’
There’s a ten o’clock screening of Night Fox at the nearby multiplex. ‘Or we can see the 3-D version at eleven?’ she asks.
‘We’ll just see the ordinary one, won’t we?’
She shrugs. ‘I don’t mind. I’ve seen both. The 3-D is good, though.’
‘I don’t think I can wait the extra hour.’ I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next three and a half.
‘I know how you feel!’ She giggles again. Her behaviour is doing my head in.
Lukas calls me at nine thirty, when we’re on our way to the cinema. I divert his call, before thinking better of it and ringing him back. I don’t want to have to explain away a two-and-a-half-hour AWOL session while I’m in the cinema.
‘What happened there?’ he asks irritably.
‘Sorry, I pressed the wrong button,’ I fib.
‘When are you coming home?’ he demands to know.
‘This afternoon.’ Lizzy flashes me a wary glance from the driver’s seat.
‘I might come and pick you up,’ he says.
‘No, I’ve got a return train ticket for three o’clock,’ I reply steadily. ‘I’m catching up with Lizzy and Ellie today.’
‘Didn’t you do enough catching up yesterday?’
‘I’ll see you later, Lukas,’ I say firmly.
Silence.
‘Love you,’ I add.
‘Bye,’ he says shortly, before hanging up. I switch off my phone and stuff it back into my bag as Lizzy turns into the car park.
‘Are you going to tell him what you’ve been doing?’ she asks.
I shake my head. ‘No. He’d go mad.’
‘He can’t blame you for being curious,’ she says reasonably as she pulls into a space.
‘He can, and he does.’
‘But that’s unfair.’
‘It’s not really.’ I look across at her. ‘Put yourself in his shoes. Imagine if . . .’ I can’t say Callum anymore. ‘. . . your future husband’s first love was, I don’t know, Angelina Jolie. Wouldn’t you feel threatened?’
She thinks about it for a moment, before grinning. ‘Actually, yes.’
I shrug. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Night Fox is even better than Sky Rocket. I’m on the edge of my seat and on an emotional roller coaster from start to finish. When Joe’s character gets killed at the end I actually let out a full-on sob. Beside me, Lizzy laughs tearfully at my reaction and I look across to see her face streaming with tears. I can’t help it: I let out another sob and start to cry properly.
‘It’s so sad, isn’t it?’ she says, crying and laughing at our behaviour at the same time.
I nod, but I can
’t speak. She delves into her bag and pulls out a handful of tissues. ‘I knew you’d need these.’
I’m not ready to stop crying, but the lights have gone on in the cinema and, even though there’s only a handful of other people in here at this time on a Sunday morning and they’re all sniffling, I feel silly. I wish I were at home so I could cry in peace . . . Jesus, no! Imagine if Lukas could see me now!
‘Now can you understand why I’ve been to see it three times?’ she asks me pointedly.
I nod. It’s not the same thing, mind you. It’s different for me. Oh, God, maybe it’s not different for me! Maybe I’m just the same as all the other self-confessed Strike Stalkers that I read about in the middle of the night. That magnetic pull that I felt when I first met him – that POW! moment when our eyes first met – maybe everyone gets that! I can’t bear it.
I’m still red-eyed and a little tearful on the car journey back to Lizzy’s flat. She’s been enthusiastically discussing the film with me and I’ve been trying to compose myself and readjust to life as I now know it. I do still love Joe – that fact is beyond denial. But I can’t be entirely sure how much of it is love for the Joe that I see on the big screen. That’s got to be a big part of it.
We’re walking towards Lizzy’s block of flats from the car park when I hear the sound of a car door opening and closing.
‘Alice!’
I turn around to see Lukas standing beside his silver Porsche, a wedding gift from father to son four years ago.
‘What are you doing here?’ I gasp.
‘I went for a drive,’ he replies. ‘I thought you might like a lift after all.’
I glance at Lizzy, but she looks away. I can tell she’s not at all impressed.
‘I wasn’t going to come home for another couple of hours,’ I tell him pedantically.
‘Do you want to come in for a cuppa, Lukas?’ Lizzy asks coolly.
‘No. Thank you,’ he replies in an equally cool manner. ‘If you’re not ready I’ll drive around for a bit until you are.’
I sigh heavily. There’s no point arguing about it. He’s here now. ‘Give me half an hour,’ I say.
He nods curtly and gets back into his car. Lizzy surreptitiously rolls her eyes as we make our way to the stairs. We can hear the sound of his Porsche engine ricocheting off the apartment block’s walls as he roars onto the main road.
‘Sorry about that,’ I say, as we go inside.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she replies. ‘Why did he come?’
I shrug. ‘I guess he missed me.’
She tuts. I know she also thinks he’s a control freak, but she doesn’t know him like I do.
She puts the kettle on.
‘Shouldn’t we go and get Ellie?’ I ask.
‘She’ll be okay with Dad for another half an hour,’ she replies.
I sit down at the kitchen table and she pulls up a chair opposite me.
‘Why don’t you stay here with me for a few days?’ she suggests gently.
‘What? Why would I do that?’
‘It would give you some space from Lukas. Don’t you think you need some time to sort out your head?’
‘I could definitely do with some space to sort out my head, but I wouldn’t not go home to Lukas. That would totally freak him out!’ I exclaim.
‘He’d get over it.’
‘Lizzy, I know you’re not a big fan of “the Husband” as you like to call him, but he is my husband. Contrary to popular belief, we have a lot of fun together.’ I know she doesn’t think we have much in common, but she’s wrong.
‘Doing what?’ she asks.
I refrain from telling her the sex is good. I don’t want to rub her nose in it when she’s not getting any. ‘I don’t know,’ I reply, ‘going for daytrips to museums or to the seaside or to National Trust properties. Cuddling on the sofa at night.’ I’m not sure this information is winning her over, but I respect Lukas for not being your Average, er, Joe. Wrong term to use. ‘He’s very sweet to me,’ I add. ‘I know how much he loves me. And I love him.’
‘As much as you loved Joe?’
I don’t reply.
‘I didn’t think so.’
‘What do you think I’m going to do about it?’
‘You could try to contact him again?’
‘No,’ I say resolutely. ‘No. I tried that. And don’t you ever tell anyone!’
‘Of course I won’t,’ she scoffs. ‘But you didn’t try very hard.’
‘What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave my number – what if he rang me back when Lukas was around?’
‘You could leave my number,’ she suggests thoughtfully.
Hmm, bet she’d like that.
‘He wouldn’t call, anyway,’ I say in a flat voice. ‘His agent probably wouldn’t even pass on my message,’ I add. ‘In fact, he definitely wouldn’t. He’d think I was just another mental Strike Stalker.’
‘But surely you still want answers. You still need answers.’
‘Well, I’m not going to get them. Look at him! He’s a huge Hollywood star!’ He’s even less tangible than he was before, I think despondently.
Lizzy’s mobile starts to buzz. It’s still on vibrate after our trip to the cinema. She picks it up and stares at the caller ID. ‘It’s Lukas.’
I’m taken aback. ‘Is it?’
She answers the call. ‘Hello?’ Pause. ‘Oh, okay.’ Pause. ‘I’ll tell her.’ She ends the call and looks at me. ‘He’s downstairs. He’s been beeping his horn, he said. Your mobile is still switched off.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ I snap, getting up and grabbing my things together.
‘Tell him to wait!’ she cries.
‘No, I’d better go. I don’t know what his problem is.’
I soon find out. The second I’m buckled in, he throws a tabloid newspaper on my lap.
‘Have you seen this?’ he asks stonily.
I unfold the paper and stare at the front page. There’s a paparazzi shot of Joe looking miserable, with the headline:
EXCLUSIVE! MY RAPIST SHAME
Oh, no. They’ve found out about his past, about his brother. I scan the words and discover that Ryan is still in prison for rape, but soon he’ll be up for parole.
‘Have you seen it?’ Lukas asks again.
‘No. No, I haven’t,’ I reply quietly.
‘At least you haven’t been talking to Lizzy about it behind my back,’ he mutters.
If only he knew . . .
A few days later there’s another ‘exclusive’. This time it’s an interview with Joe’s parents, who talk about how their son, little Joe Strickwold, shamefully disowned them when he became famous.
Lukas is scathing about the whole thing. ‘You fell in love with that? Look at his family! Disgraceful.’
But all I can think is poor, poor Joe. He must be distraught. There’s been no sign of him since the news broke, and I keep imagining him inside his sprawling mansion in the Hollywood hills feeling utterly alone because no one in his new life knows where he came from or what he’s been through. The fact that his parents – his mother all dolled up with make-up and his father in a suit – are making out that he’s the bad egg of the family . . . I’m disgusted to my very core. I want to go to the papers myself and tell the truth. I want to defend him, to slate them, to tell the story from Joe’s point of view. But of course I can’t.
Days pass and more pieces hit the headlines, but Joe is still in hiding. Journalists delve further into his past and manage to speak to his friends in Cornwall, including, to my distress, the girl he shared his first kiss with. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if they ever came knocking on my door.
I’m utterly distracted with all of this, but I find the strength to reassure Lukas and somehow pretend that I’m taking it all in my stride, even though I’m not. Luckily he goes off to work each day, and because school doesn’t start for another couple of weeks I’m able to scour the internet for news.
At the beginning
of September, Lukas flies home for a long weekend and I go to stay with my parents. Rosalinde had a baby girl a couple of months ago, and I know he wants to catch up with her while he’s in Germany, but I can’t even summon the energy to care. I go over to Lizzy’s on Saturday night after she’s put Ellie to bed.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Weary,’ I confess.
‘Did you know half the stuff they’re going on about in the papers?’
‘Yeah. All of it.’
‘You knew it all?’ She looks surprised.
‘And quite a bit more.’
She gives me a strange look.
‘What are you thinking?’ I ask.
‘You knew him for only a few weeks . . .’ she replies with confusion.
‘It felt like a lot longer,’ I say with a rueful smile.
She looks thoughtful. ‘I never could understand why you were so heartbroken after Dorset. I think I get it now.’
‘Why, because you, like everyone else, can see what all the fuss is about?’ I say this drily.
‘That’s part of it,’ she admits. ‘But I guess I didn’t really believe you were properly in love with him. I thought it was just a holiday romance, a teenage crush, that sort of thing.’
‘No. It was real. Well, it was for me, anyway,’ I add sadly.
She regards me through narrowed eyes. ‘Do you still love him?’
Every second of every minute of every hour of every day . . .
I look down at my hands. There’s no point in denying it. ‘Yes.’
‘Bollocks,’ she says with a sigh.
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
She sits up suddenly. ‘What if he does still think about you? What if he still loves you? What if something went wrong and he tried to come for you, but he couldn’t? What if he’s been trying to find you for years?’
‘No. Stop it. He could have found me – I wasn’t hard to find – but he didn’t. And why would he think of me now? Have you seen the women he goes around with? He’s clearly not lacking in female attention. God, it’s embarrassing even talking about this! It’s over. I don’t want to talk about him anymore.’
