by Thérèse
It was the night at the hospital and those days after, she thought. When I understood how vulnerable they were, when I realized they were just like me. For the first time in my life I felt like I belonged, I could be myself. I felt needed, that I had something to give.
India sat up slowly and climbed off the bed.
But this is not about me. It’s about them, she thought. They’re the ones who are hurt. I’ll find a way to explain to them. I have to. I will, because I was on the right path even though it’s all gone to shit. What was it Tony Robbins said? “Step up … be a force for good.” Yes, and I WAS a force for good. I was.
She went into the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, and straightened her hair. She took a long look in the mirror. “Okay… STEP ONE – STEP UP…,” she said to her reflection.
India closed the gate tightly behind her before walking slowly across to the main house.
I have to find a way to make this right … but for now, I’ve made a decision…
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Joss and Annie looked up as Clooney yelped and ran cowering to the far corner of the kitchen.
“Even the dog’s not speaking to me now,” India said, dragging out the chair next to Annabelle, and slumping into it.
“Here, Cloon,” Joss shouted, throwing him a well-chewed rubber bone. “Catch.”
Coming round the table, he gave India’s shoulders a tight squeeze, then sat down next to her.
“Okay, guys. I want to make a speech,” India started. “Yes, please,” she nodded to Annabelle, who was pouring tea. “Thanks.”
She took a deep breath, a very deep breath.
“I can’t begin to thank you for all you’ve done for me, and I can’t even begin to tell you how awfully sorry I am for the chaos I’ve caused.”
Annabelle went to say something, but India put her hand up to stop her.
“I think it’d be best if I go back to London. I have no way of earning my living here now, and you guys have been more than generous to me. I’ll find a way to pay you back, but really I think after what you’ve been through you deserve a bit of calm.”
Annabelle took her hand. “Darling, I know none of this is your fault. I do know”
“Whose fault is it then?” India asked her, looking her straight in the eye.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” Joss interjected. “Shit happens. I’ve just spoken to Andy Goldberg again. He’s sure there’s no damage to Annie. He said if anything it’s good PR for her; she comes across as really together. We were worried what else they’d filmed, but Bella’s told me that’s the only time they messed with Annie’s phone.”
“Look, darling, there are two issues here. The first one was private lives getting played out in public. I’m a name. People are endlessly fascinated, that’s why the thing’s gone viral, but it’s about as interesting as watching paint dry. They’ll hit it, see you ranting on, and maybe they’ll try to spin it, but right now the press are more interested in all the red carpet crap.”
“What do you mean ‘spin it’?” India asked, taking a sip of Earl Grey, her hands trembling slightly.
“Well, there’s bound to be some little freelancer trying to sell the ‘true story’ behind the People magazine piece, but this is LA, and for as long as we’ve got Lindsay, or Travolta, there’s always going to be something juicier for them than that.”
“So you’re not just saying this?” India said, turning to Joss. “Is Annie right? I’ve not caused her too much damage? She’s not just saying that, right?”
“It’s all cool,” he said leaning across and grabbing a chocolate cookie. “Annie’s not working right now. It’ll blow over.”
“But the other issue,” Annabelle interrupted, “is how this impacts our friends and what we do about that.”
“I know,” India said, her eyes welling with tears again. “I know, and I will find a way, I’ll write an apology to each one of them separately. I will do anything it takes, but Annie, I need to leave. It may be the cowardly thing to do but I can’t stay. I can’t. I’m too ashamed and it’s not fair to you. I need time to think this through, put some distance on what’s happened.”
She swallowed hard. “I have to make some calls,” she said, stifling an almost overpowering urge to cry and lurching to her feet. “Love you…,” she mumbled.
And Adam…, she thought, closing the bedroom door behind her. Her stomach muscles tightened like a tourniquet at the thought of speaking to him. Would he have seen it already? She could barely breathe. She picked up the bedside phone and called; he didn’t pick up. When she tried to leave a message, she had no words. She hung up.
Moving over to the desk she booked her flight to London online and sent an e-mail to Sarah, who responded on her BlackBerry.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Hang on in there girl!
I’ll be there to pick you up. (In more ways than one.) Can’t wait to see you. Love you. See you Friday. Can’t wait.
Hugs. Sarah xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Robert pulled the car around and lifted India’s three heavy suitcases into the trunk. India climbed into the back of the Lincoln quickly. She wanted this part over with fast. She waved to Annie, Joss, and the girls until the car turned into the curve of the driveway and the trees blocked her view. Then she sat back and hid behind her Oliver Peoples sunglasses. She could see the expression of concern on Robert’s face as he looked at her through the rearview mirror.
“It’s a bad time of day for traffic, Miss Butler, but we’ll get you there in plenty of time.”
“Thank you, Robert,” India mumbled, choking back tears. In time for what? she thought. For the plane that’ll take me back … to what? Scrambling around in her purse she found a squeezed up tissue and blew her nose. She felt worn out. Her head was throbbing from lack of sleep and lack of food. Her stomach had been in a tight knot for days now. She felt numb.
This is all so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She checked her phone one more time. There was still nothing from Adam. She’d texted to say she was going out of town and still no response. Maybe Angel was easing him into a Down-ward Dog right this moment.
The security line at LAX seemed endless and unnecessarily intimidating.
Now I come to think of it, they really do treat you like an alien, she thought, edging alongside the conveyor belt while an obese gum-chewing official barked unnecessary instructions. “Shoes off.” Okay, I know, give me a second. India struggled to unzip her knee-length Prada boots, then flung them into the plastic tray.
Thank goodness Joss had upgraded her again. She took her wine voucher to the bar in the business-class lounge and traded it for a plastic cupful of lukewarm Chardonnay, two cubes of Day-Glo “American cheese” and a packet of saltines.
A hell of a lot different from the lounge at Heathrow, she thought, remembering how exciting it had been waiting for her flight only two months earlier, tucking into salads and pasta, sipping champagne and stretching out in a cabana. How excited she’d been, how hopeful. After the firewalk, she really had believed that she could create a whole new life if she could focus clearly on what she really, really wanted. And now. Now what? Would she ever be able to believe in herself again? Would she be single forever?
After cramming her carry-on into the overhead locker and handing the attendant her coat, India sat down wearily and fastened her seat belt. She declined the “sparkling water with citrus garnish” and accepted a thimble-size glass of sparkling wine instead. Gripping the sides of her seat, she closed her eyes as the plane tore down the runway. As it tipped sharply sideways she peered out of the window. Catalina Island was shimmering in the distance, outlined against the silvery light of the rippling ocean; stretched out beneath her were the yellow sands of Malibu. Adam might be there right now, she thought. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again…
India closed h
er eyes. She was too exhausted to think. She drifted into a foggy sleep as the captain switched off the seat belt sign and the Boeing 747 headed for London.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Turning the corner and trudging past the duty-free store at Heathrow, India could see it was going to be a struggle to balance her cart through the crowd that was cramming the barriers. And then suddenly she was blinded by whirring cameras and flashbulbs fir-ing off in her direction. Putting up her hand to shield her eyes, she turned and immediately recognized the focus of their attention; the strikingly beautiful woman coming up behind her who was holding onto two small children and wearing a baby slung across her famous bosom. For a second, India was not entirely sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.
She tried to spot Sarah. It was almost impossible to plough her way through the crush. Eventually she managed to get to the automatic glass doors and saw the top of Sarah’s head bobbing up and down by the exit. Pushing her way through the throng, Sarah eventually reached India and gave her a huge hug.
“You look so LA!” she exclaimed, standing back and admiring India’s gray fedora and pink cashmere jacket. “The car’s over the road. Here, I’ll take one of those for you; the pavement’s bumpy. Bloody hell. Have you got a dead body in here?” she said, hauling one of India’s Samsonites off the cart.
India followed her out onto the shiny wet street to the cross-way. The air was damp and cold and it seemed to take forever to reach the fourth level of the parking lot.
“I’m not sure all of this’ll fit inside Mr. Darcy,” Sarah said, referring to her ten–year-old Alfa Romeo.
Squashed into the front seat and balancing her feet on Annabelle’s hand luggage, India hugged her knees as Sarah’s car rattled out of the terminal. Now THIS feels like the wrong side of the road, she thought ruefully.
“India, this is such a balls up,” Sarah remarked once they were on the M4 Motorway.
“I’ve missed you, too,” India replied, staring out forlornly at the expanse of gray sky.
“Sorry. How are you holding up?” Sarah asked. “You have to be exhausted. But you look sickeningly amazing, you really do. I’ve made up the bed in the spare room and you can stay as long as you like,” she continued cheerily. “The place is more of a mess than usual – I’ve been working long shifts.”
“Thank you. Don’t worry, Sarah, I could sleep on the kitchen floor I’m so worn out.”
“You don’t have to talk now if you don’t want to,” Sarah said tentatively.
“There’s not a lot more to say,” India said wistfully. “I screwed everything up, as I told you.”
“Then I suppose this isn’t the right time to tell you that your cat just died?”
India looked startled.
“Only joking. Don’t worry. The Countess is still alive and dining on fresh tuna daily.”
India threw her head back and laughed. “It’s so good to see you, Sarah.”
“I’ve got us several nice bottles of Sancerre and a chicken with some garlic up its bum. I have also taken the liberty of purchasing a couple of large bars of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, a DVD of Les Misérables and extra Kleenex,” she said, and then added, “I’m off till Tuesday. I’m all yours. Let’s get thoroughly wasted.”
As they crawled along the Edgware Road, India was struck by how small the buildings seemed to be, how tiny the houses, and how much duller than she remembered. It’s so crowded. I feel like I’ve been away for years. This is how a city’s supposed to look; kind of dirty and disorganized. I’m so tired of sunshine. I’m ready for this rain.
They turned off the Uxbridge Road and wended their way to Ealing. It was dark when they parked in the narrow street and dragged the cases up the path of the Victorian terraced house Sarah had inherited from her grandmother. India waited while Sarah rooted in her TK Maxx purse for her keys. It was an odd feeling not to be going back to her own apartment. Nothing I can do about it, she thought. I’ll have to rent somewhere, but I can’t think about that right now.
“You’re in there,” Sarah told her, pointing to a small room with a freestanding wardrobe and a dressing table cluttered with books and jewelry boxes. The tiny metal-framed bed had been freshly made up with layers of thick antique quilts. An ancient teddy bear was nestling between the pillows, next to a hot-water bottle and a clean pair of fleecy pajamas. India unpacked her toothbrush, checked her phone yet again, and plugged it into a wall socket to charge.
“Have a bath and a nap,” Sarah yelled. “There are clean towels in the hot press on the landing. And there’s Jo Malone bubble bath in there somewhere too.”
“Thanks so much,” India called to her in the kitchen. “Give us a shout later.”
“I’ll get you up when dinner’s ready,” Sarah yelled, taking off her red Jigsaw coat and throwing it over a battered armchair.
India gathered up the cat and curled up with her on the bed. She felt utterly exhausted and defeated, and yet there was something so comforting about being back in London. She could hear the background hubbub of English voices on the radio and the clank of pans as Sarah began cooking. Listening to the rain pounding relentlessly on the windowpane, she drifted off.
When she woke up, an hour or so later, India levered herself off the bed, realizing she was feeling hungry for the first time in days.
“Mmm… that smells wonderful,” she said, wandering into the tiny kitchen, bleary eyed. Sarah had set out the table with a vintage printed Colefax and Fowler cloth, a couple of bistro glasses, and some candles.
“You packed in a hurry,” she said, nodding at the open case on the sitting room floor. “Even customs never make that kind of mess.”
“Yes, well, I had things on my mind,” India said, climbing over it and taking a glass of Pouilly Fumé from her. “Lovely wine. Thanks.”
“I love the new clothes. I had a bit of a rummage. Mind you, the Agent Provocateur would be wasted on me.” She laughed, spotting the gilt-edged box. “I spend all my time in my uniform, as you know, and the last guy I went with asked me to wear it to bed, too!”
“From what you were saying that was a while ago.”
“Well, no … that would be last week and that would be Signore Antonio…,” Sarah hinted.
“Ahh … I think I missed something there,” India said, taking a plate of chicken and roast potatoes. “Pass over the gravy and tell me all about it.”
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
“I think I must have become unhinged,” India confided to Sarah a few nights later when they were sitting in the stained-glass snug at the Cat and Lion pub. “Now that I’m back it seems outrageous that I thought I could reinvent myself just like that,” she said, carving into the beer-battered fish.
“How so?” Sarah frowned, turning the bottle of HP Sauce upside down and shaking it.
India sighed. “There was all that opportunity waiting, but I think maybe I went too fast.”
“Indie. Stop beating yourself up, will you? You did a lot of things right. You got caught off guard, and yes, you went from Cinderella to the Wicked Witch of the West, but you didn’t deliberately set out to hurt anyone. Your classes sounded brilliant.”
“Yes. That’s the one thing I don’t doubt in all this,” India agreed.
“So what’s next?”
“I’m at the limit on all my credit cards. I need to earn some money.”
“Well, I think it was worth whatever you spent. I know it all went pear shaped, but it’s been such an adventure, such a ride…” Sarah said, taking a sip of warm Ecco Domani Pino Grigio.
“Yes. Well, it was for a while.” India sighed, spearing a couple of chips and picking up her glass. “Sarah, are you sure about this wine? It tastes musty to me.”
“I’ll admit it tasted better with pasta. I’m not entirely convinced the Signore’s Italian,” Sarah mused.
“Sarah, it didn’t feel like an adventure or a ride, it felt like destiny. If that stupid video had never happened I had a really good
chance of earning great money doing what I love. Adam was right; I could have franchised them.”
“Yes, it’s rotten. But you know you crammed more into the last few months than most people do in a lifetime. You could write a book on the back of this – India’s Summer.”
“Been there, done that... Well, okay, I didn’t write an actual book, but I did write a damn good proposal,” India said thoughtfully, putting down her fork. “I need to make a fresh start. I think I’ll just stick to what I know. I’m a good teacher at least, I never doubted that.”
“Fair enough.”
“Sarah, I know I keep saying it and thank you for putting up with me, but it’s unfathomable of Adam to just cut me off like that, isn’t it? I mean, I’d only met him once and all I said was he probably had the attention span of a gnat. That’s hardly enough to hang me.”
“True. You don’t exactly come across as Mother Teresa on that video, but you’re no Atilla the Hun either.”
“Right. So shouldn’t he want some closure?” India said staring off into the distance.
“You’d think,” Sarah said. “You would, but well, in my admittedly limited experience, men are not good at saying what they feel, and although it seems like a lifetime, Indie, it’s only been a week, you know.”
“True,” India said. “But I can’t work it out.”
“Well, I never met the guy, so I can’t help you there, but I do have some good news for you. I’ve been storing this up for the right moment to give you a lift.”
“Go on,” India said. What could possibly brighten my miserable existence right now? she thought.
“I spoke to Jane last week just before you came home. She knew all about what’s been going on and I asked her how desperate she was to stay in your place and guess what?”
“Go on.” India felt a rush of excitement.
“Well,” Sarah said, pausing for dramatic effect. “She told me she’d look around for somewhere else and she called today to say she can move out at the end of the week.”
