Always With Love

by Giovanna Fletcher

  ‘Urgh …’ I mutter. ‘Why are you so chirpy? And why do I feel like this and you look like you’re in some sexy underwear ad. You look deliciously unkempt. I just look … unkempt.’

  Billy laughs. ‘You look cute.’

  ‘I don’t feel it.’

  ‘Drink your water. It’ll help.’

  ‘No, I think I need … oh, I don’t know what I need,’ I grumble, unable to collect a fully formed thought or detect what my body craves, other than to be out of this pitiful state.

  ‘Want me to go rummage around in the kitchen? Dee might’ve cooked something,’ he offers.

  ‘Mmmm …’ I smile, throwing the duvet back over my face and sinking further underneath the covers.

  ‘I’ll be back in a tick,’ he laughs, rolling out of bed. A collection of coins and keys jangles in the pocket of his jeans as he pulls them on, making my head ache even more before he exits the room and leaves me in silence.

  I lie there feeling sorry for myself.

  After a few minutes have passed I realize I can no longer ignore the need for a wee that’s been silently irking me since waking up. I decide to splash my face with some cold water too, which seems to help momentarily. At least it makes me feel fresher.

  It’s only when I’m on my way back to the inviting bed that it dawns on me that Billy’s been gone for quite some time. I’m about to throw on some clothes and brave my way to the kitchen when Billy bursts back in red faced and, rather disappointingly, empty handed.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Of course,’ he nods, not looking at me. In fact, weirdly, he seems to be avoiding eye contact all together. ‘Want to go out for breakfast instead?’

  ‘If you fancy,’ I say, mildly disgruntled that I’m not going to be able to just curl up in a silent, unsociable ball for the next couple of hours. ‘Although I’ll have to wear some sunnies. Even if we sit indoors. I don’t think I can face daylight. Or anything bright.’

  ‘Deal,’ he agrees with a forced laugh. ‘Let’s just chuck on some clothes and go.’

  ‘Fair enough. Should we see if anyone else wants to come? Are they all up?’

  ‘Mum and Dad are,’ he replies, pulling a black t-shirt over his head and grabbing last night’s discarded socks off the floor. ‘But let’s leave it as just us.’

  ‘I guess we’re seeing them all later at lunch, anyway,’ I say, trying to get my brain to function so that I can get into some clothes. I decide on one of my summer dresses and chuck a hoodie over the top. It might not match, but I’m not particularly bothered right now. ‘Is your mum still making a roast?’

  ‘Already in the kitchen,’ Billy mumbles, leaning over to slip on his black Vans trainers.

  ‘Well, does she need any help?’

  ‘Sophie,’ he sighs, straightening up, suddenly looking exasperated. ‘Dee is usually running around after them all. I think Mum will be fine with cooking this one meal on her own.’

  His tone stops me. Billy is never snappy with me, and that was most definitely on the verge of being so.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ I ask again.

  ‘Sorry,’ he replies regretfully, running his hand through his hair. Something has clearly aggravated him in the last ten minutes as he was in high spirits when he left the bedroom before. ‘Let’s just get out of here.’

  We finish getting ready in silence and leave.

  Fair to say it doesn’t feel like the best start to a new year.

  Billy remains silent and brooding as we climb into his 1969 baby blue Chevy Camaro, a car he’s banned anyone else from driving when he’s not around, and make our way down towards the rest of civilization. Usually I feel like an old-fashioned movie star in this beautiful piece of vintage machinery, but today I barely think about it. I’m too busy wondering what Billy’s thinking about to take in the beauty of my surroundings.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure you’re OK?’ I repeat, when we’re finally seated outside a little restaurant that looks like an actual house – homely and cosy, complete with mammoth trees that make you feel like you’re in an enchanted garden. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘Mum. My mum happened,’ he says cryptically, looking at the menu.

  ‘What’s she done?’

  ‘Meddled …’

  ‘Is this about Richard and Ralph?’ I dig further, trying to get him to just say whatever it is that’s on his mind. ‘I’m sure she just thought she was being friendly by inviting them along.’

  ‘Sophie, even you know that wouldn’t be the case,’ he says, raising an eyebrow in my direction, as though daring me to say otherwise. ‘There was more to it than that.’

  ‘But you loved meeting Ralph. At least, you looked like you did last night.’

  ‘No, I did,’ Billy says, raising his hands in protest as he allows a flicker of delight to cross his face. ‘Honestly, that bloke is one of the best, if not the best, director in Hollywood right now.’

  ‘Then what’s the problem?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he exhales, pursing his lips at me.

  I can’t help but feel frustrated as he’s clearly stopping himself from sharing whatever is on his mind, even though it’s put him in a funny mood and is ruining our day.

  ‘It’ll all sort itself out, I’m sure,’ he shrugs.

  ‘Right,’ I frown, hating his ambiguous reply. ‘And have you given what they said any thought? About filming?’

  ‘Sophie May, I’m on a break!’ he says with indignation before laughing. ‘Now, what do you fancy for brekkie? I’m torn between the pancakes with a side of bacon and the traditional eggs Benedict.’

  ‘Tough one,’ I sigh.

  Him changing the subject obviously shows he isn’t going to let me in on what he’s thinking just yet, so I decide there’s no point pushing it. His flippant replies will only aggravate me further and that’s the last thing I want.

  ‘I think I might go for the granola,’ I say, dropping my menu and looking around the beautiful space we’re in.

  ‘Are you kidding me? All this amazing food on offer and you’re going for a healthy granola?’

  ‘Got to get some goodness back in me,’ I moan, finding myself laughing at the screwed-up face he’s pulling. ‘I might even get a banana on the side.’

  ‘Sod that. I’m going for pancakes,’ he grins, looking a little happier with himself as he bangs the menu back down on the table in front of us and looks around for a waiter.

  ‘You folks decided?’ asks a young guy, who looks incredibly trendy despite being in his staff uniform of a black t-shirt with a white logo on the front. He taps on the notepad in his hand with his pen, seeming impatient. I can’t help but wonder if he too had a heavy night and is feeling a bit resentful and tetchy about having to work today. I definitely wouldn’t be able to cope with having to give service with a smile after last night. No chance. I think I’d have to just open the door and let the customers help themselves for the day while I slept in a corner, feeling sorry for myself. No doubt my wonderful regulars would actually find the whole thing amusing, seeing as it’s completely out of character for me, although they’d probably be talking about it for months afterwards.

  ‘Fancy seeing you two here,’ we hear, just before we’re able to place our order with our new impatient, and possibly hungover, friend.

  Looking up we see Hayley and Jenny, both immaculate as always in another floaty pair of matching outfits – identical white dresses with long, thin straps that make them look effortlessly chic and glamorous. My guess is that it’s something in the Buskin genes that means the whole family fail to ever look bad, which is great news for any future kids we might have (here’s hoping), but rubbish for me who’ll always look crap in comparison.

  ‘You joining us?’ I ask, reaching out to grab the empty seat next to our table and pull it across.

  ‘No, no. Don’t worry,’ smiles Hayley, stopping me. ‘We were actually only nipping next door to pick up a quick smoothie but saw you two in here …’


  ‘So, Mum’s on the warpath!’ Jenny states, looking directly at Billy.

  ‘She is?’ I ask.

  ‘Don’t know what you’ve done but you’d better fix it soon,’ warns Hayley. ‘She’s hell to live with when she’s on one.’

  ‘Yeah, well …’ Billy sighs, looking downtrodden once again, giving me proof that this was the reason for his dramatic change of mood earlier, too.

  ‘Great. Looks like this afternoon’s going to be a barrel of laughs, then,’ says Hayley with a sarcastic roll of her eyes – something they all do far too much here for my liking.

  ‘Well, we’ll catch you guys at home later,’ says Jenny, turning to leave.

  ‘Laterz,’ adds Hayley, waving her fingertips in the air as she goes.

  I turn back to look at Billy, who’s shaking his head while watching his older sisters.

  ‘Don’t,’ he moans, looking up at our waiter who seems to have perked up now he’s realized who he’s serving. ‘Just don’t.’

  Apparently, whatever has happened with his mum is something he really doesn’t want to talk about. Unfortunately, given our plans for lunch, we both know he’ll only be able to put it off for so long …

  11

  Julie has instructed everyone to be back at home by three o’clock for a late family lunch. It would seem that Billy wants to spend as little time back at his LA home with his loved ones as possible right now, because we end up arriving back there without a second to spare after a meandering drive through the surrounding hills.

  We walk in to find the rest of the family already seated in the dining room – another gorgeous and airy space that matches the grandeur, yet cosiness, of the rest of the house with its cream chairs, solid glass table and shaggy rug below our feet. Six vases of long-stemmed blush-coloured roses sit on the dining table and on a cabinet that runs the length of one whole wall, their luscious flowers giving off the sweetest of scents.

  Yet, even their exquisite nature can’t hide the ugliness that’s lurking in the atmosphere.

  The reception we receive as we walk in is a frosty one, which is largely due to the fact that Julie is storming in and out of the kitchen, slamming down plates and trays of food with a face like thunder.

  ‘Anything we can help with?’ I ask brightly, trying to act like I’m unaware of the tension and the steam that’s practically gushing from Julie’s ears.

  ‘No, thanks,’ she barks quickly as she marches past, a lady on a mission.

  ‘She’s got it all under control apparently,’ replies Clive, who is sitting sheepishly at the head of the table, watching along with everyone else as Julie charges back and forth.

  ‘Lovely,’ I say with a forced smile, taking a deep breath as I lower myself into a chair next to Billy, opposite the three girls.

  Me and my mum hardly ever argue. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we bickered about anything. She might go into a quiet little bubble every now and then when something troubles her, but she’d never act like Julie is right now. She’s visibly chucking her toys out of the pram over something and acting like one of the kids. The situation is completely alien to me, so it’s hardly surprising that I find myself feeling rather anxious over what’s going to happen next.

  I take a deep breath to steady my inexplicable nerves, a feeling I’m not used to having around this family who have been largely nothing but welcoming to me so far.

  I hate feeling like this, on edge and uncomfortable. I’m wondering what’s about to happen and dreading the explosion that’s sure to erupt any minute.

  I glance at Billy and see a bemused expression on his face as he watches the Buskin matriarch rage through the house. Once he senses my eyes are on him, though, he does his best to dissolve that look so that he can smile at me. Perhaps he’s trying to pretend nothing’s going on, or hoping it’s all going to blow over and that the lid of this simmering pot is not about to be blown off.

  ‘Good luck, everyone,’ Lauren whispers before Julie enters the room once more, this time with a jug of gravy in hand.

  She places it on a mat in the centre of the table and looks around at our empty plates with an irritated expression.

  ‘Serve up,’ she practically barks before sitting down between Clive and Billy. ‘Don’t let it get cold. I haven’t cooked all day for it to get ruined.’

  Hands are thrust forward instantly, jumping at her command.

  ‘Where’s ours?’ mumbles Jenny, her eyes seeming to search the table, even though she’s been eyeing up its contents for the last five minutes.

  ‘What’s that?’ asks Julie, looking red faced as she bats some loose strands of hair away from her face and calmly places a cream napkin over her lap.

  ‘Our nut roast?’ Jenny asks meekly, nervously glancing at Hayley, sensing that their mum is on the verge of a Hulk-like outburst.

  Julie glares at the food on the table in silence, as hot air audibly blows from her nose.

  ‘It’s fine, Mum,’ shrugs Hayley, visibly elbowing her twin. ‘There’s enough for us to eat here without it.’

  Julie still doesn’t respond. Instead she stiffly spoons a small pile of roast potatoes on to her plate along with two sprigs of broccoli. Clive, trying to be helpful, goes to serve some chicken alongside it but she roughly pushes his hand away, choosing to just nibble from the feeble portion in front of her instead.

  Everyone else spoons food on to their plates and passes the bowls and platters around, clearly not put off by Julie’s mood. Their appetites seem to remain unaffected, unless they’re hoping that seeing us all enjoying the fruits of her labour will appease her somewhat. I fear they’re fighting a lost cause there.

  When we’ve been eating for a couple of minutes and Julie has managed to shift the little bits of food she has on her plate from one side to the other three dozen times, she breaks her silence. ‘Everything OK with the food?’ she asks in a high-pitched squawk, as though daring any of us to pick a fault.

  ‘Mmmm …’ is the general reply.

  ‘It’s great,’ grins Lauren.

  ‘Delicious,’ says Jenny, her face bright and cheerful as she says it.

  ‘Best roast you’ve made in this hou—’ starts Clive, but Julie interrupts.

  ‘I just don’t know what you’re thinking, Billy,’ she suddenly snaps, lowering her knife and fork on to her plate with a clatter, clearly unable to bite her tongue any longer and wanting to voice whatever is troubling her.

  ‘Here we go,’ mutters Lauren, not caring that she’s sitting opposite her mother and can probably be heard. I would have said she’s the feistiest of the bunch, but Julie is currently giving her some stiff competition for that title.

  ‘Julie, not now,’ Clive, forever the peacemaker, says under his breath.

  ‘Why not?’ she shouts, slamming her hand on the table and making everything on it wobble precariously. ‘When is a good time? It’s a family matter, Clive. It concerns us all. We should talk about it. Here. Now.’

  ‘Jeez, can’t we just eat first?’ asks Jenny with a sigh, before neatly placing a potato into her mouth and munching on it. It’s the first piece of white starchy carb I’ve witnessed her eat since we arrived. I’m guessing the tension has led her to comfort food in order to get her through whatever is about to occur.

  ‘I didn’t raise you to be selfish, Billy,’ Julie continues, ignoring her daughter’s request, as her voice goes up a few decibels. She might be talking to Billy, who’s next to her, but she’s not looking at him. Instead her comments are fired out towards the group.

  ‘I’d hardly call him selfish,’ says Lauren, unsurprisingly leaping to Billy’s defence straight away.

  ‘Oh really?’ asks Julie, snapping her head up to glare at her youngest daughter with wide angry eyes.

  ‘What’s he done?’ she challenges, looking from her mum to Billy.

  ‘Nothing,’ replies Billy, somehow remaining calm amidst the chaos.

  ‘Exactly,’ nods Julie, rather manically. ‘Nothing. No-thin
g.’

  ‘Right, glad I asked, then …’ sighs Lauren, looking across to her dad who’s looking dumbfounded, even though he clearly knows more about what’s going on than any of us do.

  ‘Ralph Joplin,’ cries Julie, putting her head into her hands before bringing it up again and repeating the name to the heavens. ‘Ralph Joplin.’

  ‘Should we know who that is?’ asks Jenny, her tone fighting to remain light and upbeat.

  ‘The director. Well, he wants Billy to star in his next film,’ explains Julie.

  ‘That’s cool,’ nods Hayley, flashing Billy a wry smile. ‘Congrats.’

  ‘Oh no, no need to congratulate him. He’s turning him down,’ she snaps.

  I turn to look at Billy, who is looking expressionlessly at his plate of food.

  I thought he didn’t want to talk about it because he was considering taking up the offer, not because he was thinking of turning it down.

  ‘Well, he is having a break,’ says Lauren, with a hint of nervousness lurking behind her bravado.

  ‘A break you were all more than supportive of me taking,’ Billy chucks in coolly, as though reminding them of the stance they took just a few months ago when he told them he needed time away from the madness of showbiz, for his mental health more than anything else.

  ‘Do you know how much we sacrificed to come here all those years ago?’ Julie seethes, her face screwed up in disgust. ‘I left my mum behind, and my sisters.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to,’ Billy shrugs.

  ‘There wasn’t a choice,’ she snaps back, slapping the table between them again with the palm of her hand in rage. ‘We’re your family. We were there for you. But if you throw in the towel now, Billy …’

  ‘I’m not throwing in any towel – I’ve not quit acting, Mum,’ he sighs, sounding exasperated. ‘I’m just giving myself a break like I said I was.’

  ‘But for how long?’ Julie pleads, her body turning to him. ‘You might not get another opportunity like this, Billy. Considering what happened last year you should be thankful Ralph wants you. You walked out on a prestigious director halfway through filming. To be frank, I think Ralph is taking a serious chance on you.’