The serious tone of Billy’s voice catches me by surprise. I wait for him to continue.
‘They’re trying to find out who the source is on set.’
‘What for?’
‘Well, it’s not good to know that someone there’s been repeating what I’m saying. I shouldn’t have to censor myself. It can make life quite uncomfortable that way. I prefer to just trust everyone.’
‘So you did say those things, then?’
Billy looks shyly at the floor, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.
‘Perhaps,’ he says quietly. ‘I mean, perhaps you have been the topic of conversation once or twice. And perhaps I’ve been boring everyone to death telling them all how wonderful you are all the time … but just perhaps.’
‘I see,’ I say with a grin.
Once I’ve persuaded Billy that I’m not about to launch into a panic attack, and he has left to face the music back on set, Molly lets me wander down to the library to see Mum. I know she’ll have seen the papers thanks to the library’s new section full of newspapers and magazines, but she hasn’t been down to see me. She could be rushed off her feet with library visitors, of course, or she might have tried to phone but couldn’t get through. Either way, I take the short trip down to her.
When I walk through the library doors I notice that, except for a couple of lone readers, it’s empty. Susan, Mum’s colleague, who likes to keep conversation to a minimum, is slumped behind the counter. Her long brown hair hangs in front of her face, allowing just a couple of inches clear for her to peer through.
‘Hello, Susan,’ I say as I walk over to her.
‘Hi,’ she says in a clipped tone, keeping her eyes on the computer screen in front of her.
‘Is Mum around?’
Susan looks up for a fleeting moment and registers that it’s me, before returning her gaze to the screen.
‘She decided to do some filing out back today.’
Mum is organizing. Cleaning. Something I know she does when she’s got something on her mind that she doesn’t want to face. It’s her diversion tactic and has been for years.
‘Is it OK if I pop back and say a quick hello? There’s just something I need to talk to her about.’
Susan doesn’t even bother giving a verbal reply. She just nods.
I walk into the library’s back room to find Mum surrounded by piles of books, magazines and paperwork. Her forehead is covered with heavy frown lines.
‘Gosh, be careful you don’t get lost in all that!’
She jumps in surprise at being disturbed.
‘Sophie! I didn’t hear you come in!’ she says, grabbing her chest.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
She looks at me and smiles for a moment, but doesn’t say anything.
‘I take it you’ve seen the papers?’ I say, deciding to kick the conversation off, rather than skirt around the subject.
‘I have,’ she says with a nod. ‘Although it’s not just the papers, mind, it’s on the internet too, you know. All over it. The schoolgirls were in earlier, on the computers as always. They all started shrieking their heads off. I wondered what was going on.’
‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’
‘Just a bit,’ she says quietly, looking at the floor.
‘Mum?’ I say with concern.
‘I don’t want to lose you, Sophie,’ she cries. I watch as her body crumples to the floor, melting into despair. I go to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
‘Mum, you won’t lose me,’ I protest.
‘I will, Sophie. I’ve always known that one day you’ll move away and that I’ll be left on my own.’
‘Mum …’
‘It’s not your fault. And it’s not your dad’s fault either. But sooner or later I’m going to have lost two of the most special people in my life and it’ll be just me. In that house. Alone.’
‘Where do you think I’m going? Where has this come from?’
‘The papers, I guess. I always think of you as my little girl, but I forget that you’re a grownup now. You’re older than I was when I married your dad, you know.’
‘Mum, I haven’t even known Billy that long! Don’t go marrying me off just yet,’ I try and joke.
She looks at me sadly.
‘Darling, you need to live your life. I don’t want to be the cause of you not doing the things you want to. I don’t want to be a burden.’
‘But you’re not.’
‘Oh, I am. I’m the reason you didn’t go to university. Admit it.’
‘No, Mum … I mean, maybe at first I didn’t want to go because of you, but then things changed. I found the shop and …’ I can’t formulate the words; instead I shake my head in protest.
‘Baby girl, I want you to experience everything and I want you to have the kind of love that me and your dad had. You shouldn’t be having to factor me into your decisions.’
We both sit in silence. I let the words circulate around my head and think of how different my life might have been. If only …
‘You know, we used to dream up different lives for you,’ she continues. ‘With all sorts of different jobs and relationships and stuff. But we only ever had one real wish – and that was that you’d find love and happiness. I don’t want to hold you back.’
‘But you’re my everything.’
‘Yes, Soph … and I shouldn’t be.’ She plays with my hands, before she cups them both in hers. ‘I’m sorry, love, it’s just been playing on my mind a bit and then seeing all that in the paper today made it all the more real. You know?’
‘Yeah, I do.’ I think back to the night when Billy first asked me on a date, and remember my heart sinking as I saw the crumpled tissue in Mum’s hand. I assumed she’d been thinking about Dad, but instead she’s been worrying about losing me, while I’ve had my head in the clouds. Oblivious to her pain.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were upset, Mum.’
‘Oh, shush, you. I want you to follow your heart and start the new chapter in both our lives. God knows we’ve grieved the last chapter long enough.’
She kisses me on the forehead and I wrap my arms around her skinny frame, holding her close.
7
Nine years ago …
Late September, towards the start of the school year in the upper sixth, we were all called into the assembly hall at the end of the day for a big energetic chat about our future prospects and all the wonderful things that life had to offer us.
Our Scottish headmaster Mr Hall stood before us and talked with great enthusiasm about the decisions we’d have to be making over the next year, ‘I look at you all sat in here today and am reminded of your first day in those seats when I welcomed you to Rosefont High,’ he bellowed, rocking backwards and forwards onto his toes as he did so. ‘You were so eager to be part of the big school – to run around with the big girls and boys. And now here we are. You are the big girls and boys and we’re getting ready to say goodbye in your last year with us. Looking around the room I can see that you’re all just as eager as you were then – but now you want more. You want the world. And rightly so. The decisions you make over the next year are going to be the most important of your life because what you do will ultimately help shape your future,’ he continued, giving a long pause to hammer his point home. ‘So, as you start applying for university, seeking out those apprenticeships or maybe even planning your travels around the world, I hope you all realize that your future is limitless. I have high hopes for you all.’
The bell rang to signal the end of the school day, causing an intoxicating buzz to fill the room as people started to talk animatedly about their plans. Mary Lance, who was sitting next to me as usual, nudged me and gave me a beaming smile. The world is ours for the taking. What an exciting notion. I gave her a shy smile back and made my way to the exit.
On my way home, Mr Hall’s words bounced around my brain – fuelling ideas of absent-minded travel around Australia with endless hugs from koalas
or swanning off to university to study English where I’d be allowed to sit in peace and read all day long without a care in the world. The whole night I felt buoyed up about what my life could be like in years to come – how different it would be away from Rosefont Hill.
A few weeks later the reality of my life came and slapped me round the face. Shattering those illusions and confirming that, for me, life outside Rosefont Hill didn’t exist.
I was asleep late one night when I was abruptly awoken with a shaking sensation. For a split second I was horrified that I was having another attack, but then I saw Mum’s face in the darkness and realized it was her hands that were causing me to move so vigorously.
‘Sophie, darling. Sophie, darling!’ she voiced manically.
‘Mum, what’s wrong?’
She said nothing, but I could see her pursing her lips as she nervously started to twist her fingers around one another. She looked scarily timid and frightened.
‘Mum?’
‘I … I wanted to sleep. I wanted everything to stop. I just wanted to sleep. I …’
‘It’s OK, Mum. It’s OK,’ I cooed, trying to calm her down. ‘What happened?’
She couldn’t talk, she was in such a state. Instead, she held out her shaky hand and showed me the empty bottle of pills. The pills she’d decided to wash down with a bottle of whisky.
Obviously, I’d known that Mum hadn’t been coping – the constant cleaning and agonizing over perfecting everything in sight, the fact that she couldn’t be out of the house after dark and the sobs that still came from behind her closed bedroom door when she thought I couldn’t hear her were all signs that she wasn’t. However, I’d wrongly assumed that as time passed Mum would just get better. That she’d somehow learn to live again. I thought something would just click inside her and bring her back to me. Instead, what had clicked was the desire to get away from her heartache and the nightmares that plagued both her sleeping and waking hours.
Whether she’d actually meant to end her life is still a mystery, but one that I can’t ponder too hard. I don’t want to know the answer.
Mum was hospitalized for five weeks and diagnosed with depression.
I think she was relieved that there was something actually wrong with her, that there were others like her, that she wasn’t just a freak. Obviously, that didn’t make her experience with the illness any easier, but it did give her some comfort.
For me it was a wake-up call. A reminder of what our lives had become thanks to me.
Once again, the whispering started around school, but this time I didn’t care. I’d cut myself off from everyone else years before and had done a good job of keeping them all at a distance ever since. I had many reasons to keep them out and, as far as I was concerned, none to let them in.
Any childish thoughts I’d had of being anywhere but at home vanished overnight. I needed to focus on getting my mum back and I didn’t want to do anything that would cause her any more misery.
8
I expected the adventures of the day to wipe me off my feet and leave me exhausted, but I still find myself wide-eyed and unable to sleep at one in the morning. So I decide to reach for my laptop and let my curiosity run free. It doesn’t take me long to type ‘Billy Buskin Sophie’ into Google and click on the news section. My heart stops as 243 separate articles pop up. TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE? It’s even made the news in India, Australia and the States. It’s surreal and mind-blowing.
I click on one link, and see that it’s basically the same regurgitated story as before, but with a few details of Billy’s previous relationships thrown in. Scrolling down I spot a section which allows readers to comment on the above story. My stomach tightens as I read their words.
What is wrong with Billy Buskin? He went from Heidi Black to that? She looks so … ordinary! Sort yourself out, Billy B!
She is in urgent need of a stylist! Quick, someone help her!
Yawn! Don’t get too attached, Sophie. He’ll be on to the next girl next week!
Talking marriage? What nonsense. The guy loves to sleep around. She looks BORING!
What?! Check out her stupid headscarf? As if someone like that could keep BB interested for more than 5 seconds. He’s probably already dumped her and homed in on someone else on set!
Jeeeez … The thought of her naked makes me want to VOM! Put the cake down.
She looks like a rat! And what is it with all the flour? Look after yourself, girl … and lose a few pounds.
There are nice comments about being happy for Billy too, in fact there are more positive ones than negative, but I ignore those. They don’t carry the same weight as the rest. The thing that hurts the most about all of these people’s comments is that in some way I have felt the same. It’s as if they can sense my insecurities and pick on each and every one of them, blowing them up and making them more truthful than when they were just niggling at me before our first date. I’m not pretty enough. I’m too normal. He’ll find someone better, one of his fellow A-listers, and be off. I’m not good enough. I have nothing that would make him want to stick around. I’m not worthy.
Over the last month have we both been delusional? Billy has been outside of his glitzy world and thrust into a perfect little country life. But is there really any longevity in it? Seriously? Filming finishes in a matter of weeks, and with that Billy will pack his bags and head back to his previous life. Is there really a place for me in that world? Of course not. I’ve been foolish to think otherwise.
The next morning I don’t get out of bed when my alarm goes off. Instead I just lie there, underneath a thick blanket of emptiness. My whole being aches. My face and head feel swollen and heavy. My eyes are still sore from the night of sobbing. I’m not a worthy human being and I just want to stay here, under my covers, all day, or for the rest of my life.
I phone the shop and leave a message for Molly saying that I’m feeling under the weather, my stuffed nose helping it to sound more convincing. Afterwards, I roll in a ball and pull the duvet up over my head, blocking out the outside world.
I’m woken up by a series of thumping bangs coming from the front door. I jump out of bed, my head still pounding, and wander down in my pyjamas, yanking open the door to stop the sound. Billy is standing there wearing a beaming smile.
‘A little birdie told me you were too ill to get to work today – so I thought I’d come and be your nurse. I come bearing gifts – grapes, chocolate and some Sudoku puzzle thing,’ he says brightly, indicating the plastic shopping bag by his side.
I’m rendered speechless as I hopelessly try to stop tears from forming once again.
‘What’s happened? Are you OK?’ he asks, a trace of panic in his voice.
I lift up my arms and bury my face in the crease of my elbow as I begin, once again, to sob uncontrollably.
‘Hey, hey, hey!’ he says softly as he walks through the door and puts his arms around me, holding me tightly. ‘What’s happened?’
I can’t speak, the tears are still choking me.
‘Come on … calm down, Soph,’ he says, shutting the door and walking me into the living room, where he sits down with me on the sofa. Billy cradles me and rocks me gently, soothing me, my face still buried in my arms.
‘I’m sorry. It’s nothing. It’s just … I think we should stop seeing each other.’
‘What? Sophie, what’s brought this on?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Don’t give me that. What has happened?’
‘I read –’ my chest starts heaving again, forcing me to stop.
‘Soph, what did you read? Tell me,’ he urges.
‘C-c-comments.’
‘What comments? Wait a minute! On the internet?’ he asks, as he tries to get me to let him see my face. With the amount of snot and tears I’ve been producing he has zero chance of that! ‘Never read those comments, Sophie. Do you know who writes that stuff ? Sad, lonely people who have nothing better to do than sit and write crap. They don’t kno
w you and they don’t realize that they’re talking about real people with feelings … None of them would ever actually say anything to people’s faces. They just hide behind their computer screens spouting nonsense.’
‘But their words are true!’ I blurt out as another sob comes.
‘Oh, baby …’
‘I’m not good enough for you! I’m boring. I’m nothing. I’m just stupid old fat me.’
‘There’s nothing of you! Stop it!’
‘In a few weeks, filming is going to be over and you’ll be gone. Who knows where you’ll be working next. You won’t want me in your life then. You’ll go back to your models. On to the next girl. You won’t need me.’
‘Sophie, I’ve never been as happy as I am when I’m with you! I honestly mean it. I know we’ve not talked about what happens after this but I just assumed you knew how I felt. We can make this work, it doesn’t matter where I am. London is my home, I’m here most of the time, anyway.’
‘But what about when you go back to LA?’
‘You can come with me.’
‘What? Just like that? Leave everything here?’
‘If you want to.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ I moan.
‘It can be. I just mean that we can make everything as easy as possible. I want you with me. So please don’t let them get to you. You know the truth, Sophie. Would I be here now if I didn’t care?’
‘I guess not.’
‘Exactly. Come on. Let me see your face,’ he says, as he tries to move my arms.
‘No!’ I shout as I resist his pull. ‘I’m covered in snot!’ I confess, laughing through the tears.
‘I don’t care.’
‘Well, I do!’
Billy’s arms let go of me and I hear him walk out of the room. He returns a few seconds later with a bundle of tissues.
‘Here,’ he says, as he hands them over.
I lower my arms but leave one hand on my face as I reach out for the tissues with the other.
‘Thank you,’ I say as I sort out the mess that is my face. ‘Oh God, I must look awful. You’re going to want to take back everything you’ve said now. Quick, run while I’m still blinded by this mountain of snot.’
Billy and Me Page 8
