‘Morning, Mum. Gran couldn’t make the stairs, not with her bunion, so Ryan bunked down on the other bed,’ I said.
Mum surveyed the scene for a moment, and I felt this terrible guilt and embarrassment. I’m not sure why, I’m thirty-five for God’s sake! But Ryan is ten years younger than me, and I’d had sex with him in my mother’s house. I’d had an orgasm in my mother’s house. Well, two!
‘Is Ryan Jewish?’ she whispered with a grin.
‘I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen!’ I blurted guiltily.
‘What?’ asked Mum. ‘Natalie, I’m making a fry-up. I wanted to know if Ryan eats bacon? Lots of these Hollywood types are Jewish. I wouldn’t want to offend him…’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said.
‘I’ll come back when he’s awake… The exercise on these stairs does me good.’
Ryan opened his eyes.
‘Morning Ryan,’ trilled Mum. ‘Do you want bacon?’
Ryan rubbed his eyes, confused as to where he was. He saw me in the other bed.
‘Are you going to make me come twice?’ shrilled Mum just as Ryan remembered what had happened.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘You don’t need to come back Mum… Do you want bacon for breakfast, Ryan?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I love bacon,’ he said. Mum was staring down at us like two friends. Much as she did with me and Sharon when she used to sleep over. I relaxed a little.
‘So bacon sarnies all round? You’ll need something in your tummies before you hit the road back to London,’ she said.
‘Wow, thanks Mrs Love,’ said Ryan.
‘Call me Annie, all Natalie’s friends do! Breakfast in twenty minutes,’ she said and went back downstairs closing the door.
We stared at each other for a minute, and then burst out laughing.
‘Morning,’ he grinned. ‘Do you have a chair?’
‘Yeah, there’s one by the dressing table,’ I said. Ryan got out of bed, still naked, and padded over to the dressing table. He carried the chair to the door and wedged it under the handle.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked. He came back over.
‘I figure we’ve got twenty minutes to kill,’ he said sliding into bed with me.
‘What if my mother comes?’ I said.
‘I guarantee you will before she does,’ he said leaning in to kiss me.
We had a really lovely breakfast, all sat down at the kitchen table, chatting and munching on a delicious pile of bacon sandwiches. Ryan sat next to me and kept pushing his leg against mine. Gran watched us with a knowing smile.
We left reluctantly just after seven-thirty, weighed down with several quiche lorraines and a pavlova. Mum and Dad came out to the car to wave us off.
‘Do you think we’ll be seeing you again, Ryan?’ asked Mum.
‘I’d love to visit again Mrs Love,’ said Ryan getting in the car. ‘But why don’t you come up to London when Macbeth opens. You could come to the premiere?’
Mum looked at Dad.
‘We could have a couple of days in London, couldn’t we Martin?’
‘Yes, I’m sure we could get Micky and Dave to feed the animals,’ agreed Dad.
‘Really, you’d come to London, to see the play?’ I asked. They both nodded and I was a little overwhelmed.
‘I’ll book you tickets,’ I said. ‘Love you.’
‘We love you too,’ said Mum, giving me a kiss as I got in the car. She went to Gran who was looking pensive in the back seat. ‘And where are you off to next Mum? Wherever the wind takes you I presume?’ Gran mumbled something neutral and gave her and my Dad a hug.
As we hit the motorway, Gran fell asleep in the back of the car.
‘There is so much I could show you in London when we get back,’ I said excitedly. ‘I go and watch plays all the time, you could come with me one night?’
‘Yeah, and then I could take you back to my hotel and you can…’
‘Enough of that joke,’ I said. He grinned and kissed me. ‘So, what about your sponsor, I thought you weren’t meant to have a relationship?’ I added.
‘Wow, are we in a relationship?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t mean that…’
I went to backtrack but Gran coughed and woke up.
‘Darlink, could ve stop at the petrol station, I need to use the bathroom,’ she said.
‘Sure Gran, there’s one in a couple of miles.’
When we got out of the car, Ryan said he was going to go to the petrol station shop. He gave me a big kiss in front of Gran and left with a dazzling smile.
When we were in the toilets, Gran quizzed me on what had happened. I told her as much as I felt comfortable about, even though she was what you might term a ‘cool’ Gran.
‘Oh Natalie,’ she said clasping her hands together. ‘This could be the start of something beautiful.’
‘We’re not in a relationship,’ I said. ‘It was just…’
‘Natalie. I see the love light in that boy’s eyes. I think he has fallen for you, and you for him!’
‘But he’s at my theatre, and… he’s in recovery…’
‘You are both grown adults and single. You must follow your heart,’ she said.
I was just trying to get my head around this, when we came back to the car. Ryan was standing by the open passenger door having a heated conversation on his phone. He looked up when we came back. The love light had gone from his eyes. He was furious. I noticed he’d bought a newspaper and a coffee.
‘I pay Terri twenty percent to keep this shit out of the papers…’ he was saying, ‘Well maybe YOU should do your job better. Yeah I’m gonna have words with her. She’s just here. Gotta go.’
He hung up and turned on me.
‘What was this weekend all about?’ he demanded, his eyes blazing.
‘What?’ I said.
‘I let people in and they just want a piece of me…’
‘Ryan, what’s going on?’ I said. He threw the newspaper across the car roof. I took it and looked at Gran who was equally confused.
‘Page four,’ he said. I opened the Mail on Sunday to see a big double page headline screaming out:
RYAN’S ALCOHOL SHAME!!!
It detailed how Ryan Harrison, star of popular teen drama Manhattan Beach, was an alcoholic. It revealed his stints in rehab, and how, despite assurances to producers of the show, he had started drinking again.
Below was a sequence of grainy, but still legible pictures of us taken yesterday by the pond at the farm; Ryan staggering and being held up by me, and then a hideous photo of him throwing up in the pond. The article went on to say that he was on his final warning with Manhattan Beach producers and he was almost certain to be fired. It talked of him as another Hollywood car crash coming to London to appear in a play. The article even cast doubt on his ability to take on a stage role such as Macbeth, and even his ability to act.
‘Oh Ryan, I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘I bet you are!’
‘You think I did this?’
‘How the hell else did they find me? You said it was in the middle of nowhere!’ he added to Gran.
‘It is in the middle of nowhere,’ insisted Gran. ‘My God, I lived in Sowerton for twenty years! One bus a day to the nearest town,’ she said looking nervously between us.
‘So it was you, old woman, how much did they offer you?’
‘Hey!’ I said.
‘You said she just showed up in London, with all her suitcases. These people pay big time for shit like this!’ said Ryan.
‘Enough!’ I shouted. ‘Say what you like to me, but you will leave my grandmother ALONE. Do you hear me?’
‘Ok, well how do you explain this?’ he said indicating the paper with tears forming in his eyes.
‘It must have been someone at the christening. Look, an “unknown guest” is quoted as seeing you “worse for wear”,’ I said.
‘I never liked your mother’s trifle,’ said Gran.
‘This i
sn’t the time for jokes,’ I snapped.
‘I want everyone’s name who was at that fucking christening…’ he said. ‘Look at these photos. That’s not a camera phone, these were taken by a long lens…’
We all stood for a moment in shock. It was still early in the morning and few cars were at the petrol station. Parked a little way away though was a grubby white van. The guy inside was just sitting there. He was plump and middle-aged, wearing a baseball cap. He didn’t seem to be waiting for anyone, or anything… Ryan eyed him for a moment, and then went to Gran. He grabbed her handbag.
‘Vat are you doing?’ she said. He pulled out her Taser, and strode quickly towards the van. The guy inside panicked but Ryan reached his window, leant in, and pulled out his car keys.
‘Get out of the car,’ said Ryan. I rushed over to them.
‘Ryan! How do you know this man has anything to do with…’
‘I can spot them a mile off… Sleazy bastards with long lenses,’ he said.
‘I’m not getting out,’ said the guy glaring at Ryan. I noticed a long lens camera on the passenger seat beside him.
‘Are you a journalist? Have you been following us?’ I asked incredulously.
‘I think journalist is a bit generous. Shitty paparazzo fits better,’ said Ryan.
‘Fuck you pretty boy,’ said the guy. ‘Give me back my keys.’
Ryan suddenly reached through the open window and grabbed the guy in a headlock, pressing the Taser against his cheek. The guy looked shocked. The two prongs of the Taser dug into his pudgy white skin. Ryan flicked the power button, and it made a weird high-pitched squeaking sound as it powered up.
‘Ever been Tasered before?’
‘Hey now, look,’ said the guy, his face squashed in Ryan’s grip.
‘Who do you work for?’ said Ryan.
‘I’m freelance…’ whined the guy. ‘If you let that thing off it will electrocute you too…’
‘Do I look like I give a shit right now?’ asked Ryan a crazed look in his eye. He tightened his grip on the guy’s head.
‘Ryan, are you mad?’ I said.
‘This weekend was a private thing. In my private life,’ said Ryan his voice cracking. ‘I was invited to a private family day!’
I really felt for him. The memory of the day, which had been so perfect, was now ruined. The guy gulped but stayed silent.
‘I swear to God I will fire this in your face, and I will keep firing it if you don’t tell me who you work for!’ demanded Ryan.
‘Ryan. Stop,’ I said.
‘Brendan O’Connor,’ said the guy swallowing and shaking.
‘Yes, I know who he is,’ I said.
‘How did he know where I would be?’ asked Ryan.
‘We’ve been following you around. We just followed you here…’ whined the guy.
‘Who’s ‘we’?’ I asked.
‘Me and some other guys Brendan hired…’
‘Okay let him go Ryan,’ I said. ‘Let him go, now!’
Ryan was still furious, but I managed to get him to back off and release the guy from the headlock. I took the keys and handed them through the window.
‘You go. NOW,’ I said. The guy hurriedly put his keys in and started the engine. When he’d turned the van around he paused for a second and threw a parting shot.
‘We see your type all the time. Pretty boys with no talent. Nobody will care about you in three years!’
Then he slammed down his foot and the van roared away. Ryan yelled after him, but it was lost in the heat of the engine as it sped away. Ryan started to run after the van, he stormed off down the slip road towards the motorway.
‘Oh Natalie,’ said Gran putting her hand on my arm.
‘Ryan!’ I shouted ‘RYAN, COME BACK!’
But he carried on running towards the motorway.
‘You think he’s going to hitch a lift?’ asked Gran.
‘Who knows. Come on,’ I said. We got in the car, turned it round, and started to follow.
‘He’s not going to catch that van, it’s gone,’ said Gran peering through the seats from the back. I put my foot down and drove towards Ryan who was nearly at the entrance to the motorway.
‘What am I going to do? I can’t stop when I’m on the dual carriageway,’ I said as we neared the mouth of the motorway. I pulled the car in by a hedge.
‘Stay here Gran,’ I said. I jumped out just as a lorry roared past blaring its horn. Ryan had now reached the hard shoulder and was jogging along the motorway. I ran and caught him up.
‘Stop! Ryan, stop! You can’t walk on the motorway!’ Cars were whipping past. I grabbed his arm. ‘Stop!’
He stopped. He had tears in his eyes.
‘Leave me alone!’ he shouted above the sound of the traffic roaring past.
‘Please. I swear on my life and the life of my nieces and nephews that I had nothing to do with this…’
‘What? The nieces and nephews you barely see?’
‘You can be angry, but don’t walk on the motorway, come back to the car,’ I said.
‘No, I can hitch a ride.’
‘Ryan, you’re well known and in the papers. Do you want to be the crazy star found wandering on the M5?’
This seemed to make up his mind. He stopped.
‘I’m only coming back with you because there isn’t any other option,’ he said.
‘Fine. Now come on,’ I said. I got him back in the car, and we set off to London. We drove in a horrible silence for a few minutes. Gran kept eyeballing me in the rear view mirror. Then Ryan’s phone rang. It carried on ringing.
‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ I asked. He stuck out his bottom lip and stared out of the window. His annoying ringtone carried on blaring out. ‘At least see who it is,’ I added. He shot me a dark look and pulled it out of his jeans.
‘Nicky,’ he said cancelling the call.
‘Oh crap,’ I said under my breath. Seconds later my phone started to ring. It was in my bag on the back seat next to Gran.
‘It’s Nicky,’ said Gran pulling out my phone.
‘Pass it here,’ I said.
‘Darlink, you are driving… I vill hold it to your ear.’ Gran answered and pressed the phone to my head.
‘Fuck-a-doodle-doo, have you seen the Mail on Sunday’ asked Nicky.
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you Nat? I’m outside your flat,’ she added.
‘I’m on the M5, coming back from Devon.’
‘Okay… I’m trying to get hold of Ryan, but I presume he is with you? Seeing as you’re both in these pictures. Care to share?’
‘He came to the christening,’ I said.
‘I worked that part out, Nat. What I can’t work out is why?’
‘Because… he was invited.’
‘I thought British family gatherings were kind of reserved. Why is he all over you? Why are you beside a pond? Why did he drink?’
‘What you should know is that Brendan has had the press tailing Ryan for days. They followed us,’ I explained.
‘And they got a fabulous photo-op,’ she said pointedly.
‘Look Nicky, can we talk when I get back?’
There was a pause.
‘Hand me over to Ryan. I need to brief him on this Gay Pride appearance.’
‘You think he should still do it?’
‘Of course he should still do it! He’s agreed to be on the main float. After this shit in the papers he needs to show up, on time, and smile.’
I handed the phone over. Ryan listened for a minute, grunted a few times and hung up.
‘You need to drop me back at my hotel. They’re picking me up from there,’ he said handing my phone back to Gran. We spent the rest of the journey in a horrible silence, Ryan staring out of the window.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ I said as we finally pulled up at the rear entrance of the Langham Hotel. He got out of the car.
‘I think you’ve done enough,’ he said and slammed the doo
r. We watched him walk back to the service entrance of the hotel, ducking between the huge bins and in through the door.
I put the car in reverse and drove back to the flat, dreading what I would have to deal with when we got there.
Act Three
Minutes later…
Pride
Gran looked troubled as we drove back, we arrived in Soho around lunchtime. When we pulled into the underground garage and I turned off the engine there was a silence.
‘I am so sorry Natalie,’ said Gran. ‘I really thought you and Ryan might…’
‘Get married?’
‘Be happy,’ she sighed. When we got out of the car, her limp was more pronounced, and she let me help her to the lift. Gran said she needed to talk to me, but Nicky was waiting outside my front door with Xander and Craig.
‘Honey, we need to have an emergency meeting,’ said Nicky dispensing with any hellos. I noticed she had a big A1 notepad, plus a fold-up stand under her arm, and Xander was cradling copies of the Mail on Sunday.
‘Can I meet you at the theatre in a bit? We’ve only just got back…’ I said. Gran leant awkwardly on her stick. ‘Sorry, Nicky, Craig and Xander, this is my grandmother Anouska.’
They all said hello.
‘I know this sounds crazy, but I’m worried our office could be bugged,’ explained Nicky.
‘Are we really that paranoid?’ I asked.
‘I was the one who suggested it,’ said Craig. He ran his fingers through his short brown hair, and looked worried.
‘Would Brendan really go to that much effort?’ I asked.
‘He had you under surveillance all weekend,’ said Nicky.
‘Natalie, I need to get inside and sit,’ said Gran who was leaning heavily on her stick with a white face.
‘Okay, come on,’ I said. I opened the door and we all went in.
‘I really like your flat, Natalie,’ said Xander as we went through to the kitchen. Gran limped to a chair and sat down gratefully. Xander placed the pile of papers on the table, and sat opposite.
Miss Wrong and Mr Right Page 17
