‘Of course you can’t. The whole thing is utter madness.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated, ‘I know it’s stupid and I know that no one will remember this in a few weeks, but I feel so...so...naked.’
‘You’ve nothing to apologise for Lovey. Why, if it was me, I’d be on the first plane to the back end of nowhere until not even my boys could remember my name. You’re strong though Lovey, you’ll get over it. It’s the shock more than anything. Nobody expects to wake-up in the morning and find this kind of thing.’
‘Thanks Terri,’ Jules sniffed, wiping her hands across her damp cheeks. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you these past few weeks.’
‘Hey, now you’ve nothing to say thank you for either. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I cried when my Kevin upped sticks with that tart from the next village. Not so much as a note. Just this business and a mountain of debt. And even though only a handful of people knew about it, I felt so humiliated - cried for months.’
‘That’s awful,’
Terri nodded. ‘Yes it was. But if it had been in the papers as well then I don’t think I’d have ever stopped crying. Well maybe just long enough to track him down and kill him.’ Terri grinned.
Jules couldn’t help but feel better at Terri’s humour.
‘Now obviously I’m not suggesting you should kill this Guy fella. It seems there’s still something between the two of you, and-’
‘No there isn’t,’ Jules jumped in. ‘Other than last week, we hadn’t seen each other for years.’
‘Maybe not, but by the way you two were arguing it seems there’s still a lot of unfinished business at least.’
‘There really isn’t. I hate him Terri. He’s the reason the paper is doing this. It’s all part of his publicity campaign. He’s using me to sell records.’
‘Right.’
Jules lifted her gaze to Terri’s face, reading the quizzical look on her face. ‘What?’
‘Well it’s just if Guy only did what he did for publicity why did he drive all the way up here to tell you it wasn’t?
‘I...I don’t know. He probably thought if he could get me to do an interview it would carry more weight with the story. But whatever the reason, there is nothing between us, okay?’
‘If you say so Lovey. Now look, the best thing you can do now is try and forget about this newspaper article. I know it’s embarrassing but without a time machine there is nothing you can do to undo what’s happened.’
‘You’re right Terri,’ Jules agreed, wiping the remaining tears from her face. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh I almost forgot,’ Terri began, digging out a dusty catalogue from the pocket of her dungarees. ‘I found this in the back of the van. It’s a staircase catalogue. God knows how old it is, but I thought at least it would give you a few ideas.’
Jules took the catalogue, grateful for something else to focus her thoughts on. ‘Thanks Terri. For everything I mean. Helping me with the house and being so nice to me. I know I’m not the easiest person, I just...’ Jules stopped, unsure what she was trying to say.
‘Oh you daft thing, what are friends for. Now why don’t you hold the ladder, and I’ll pop up and get your car keys. They’re in the bathroom you said?’
‘Yes, that would be great thanks,’ she replied as they stood up and walked towards the house.
As Jules flicked through the catalogue, she was surprised to see that fitting a new staircase would be simple. Rather than build the entire structure from scratch, she could simply pick out a readymade one and it would be delivered and fitted like any other piece of furniture.
‘I still can’t believe how much carpet you managed to take up all by yourself,’ Terri said. ‘And such nice floors, why would anyone want to cover…’ her sentence trailed off as Terri stepped through the doorway.
‘Sorry? I didn’t catch that,’ Jules said, entering into the hallway behind Terri.
‘Oh nothing Lovey.’
Jules saw the nervous look that crossed Terri’s face and guessed the woman’s sudden change in mood. ‘Terri, you can’t seriously believe this place is haunted?’ she quizzed.
‘I don’t know,’ she answered, dropping her voice to a whisper, ‘but how else do you explain the ceiling and stairs both falling down? It’s not right.’
‘Honestly,’ Jules said, smiling at Terri as she rolled her eyes. ‘This place is just old that’s all.’
‘I’m sure you’re right Lovey, but maybe just to be on the safe side you could reconsider the other thing.’ Terri scrunched her face into what Jules could only take as some form of wink.
‘If you’re referring to what I think you’re referring to then absolutely not,’ she replied, finding her own voice had dropped to a whisper as she tried to ignore the tingle running down her spine.
Ever since Jules had been told her house was haunted it seemed the whole of Cottinghale had been asking about an exorcism. Although she strongly suspected it had more to do with the idea of a party than any concern for her own safety.
‘So these stairs,’ Jules prompted again; eager to keep her mind focused on her house.
‘Yes right,’ Terri nodded causing a wisp of blonde-grey hair to escape from its scrunchy. ‘Now I don’t know what you had in mind but I’ve always thought the old staircase was too narrow for this space. And now that you have the chance to change it, I thought something like this would work well,’ she added, pointing to a photograph of a deep rosewood staircase, which started further out at the bottom and swept in a small half circle towards the wall and the second floor.
‘I know the last few steps would come out further into the hallway, but you’ve got a lot of space here and…’
‘It’s perfect,’ Jules interrupted. ‘Really perfect.’
‘Great. Well I’ll have a word with the company and see if they still make it, and we can get someone in to give you an estimate. But first I think it’s time me and the boys started clearing this mess.’
‘Yes,’ Jules replied, turning her head to look at the space where her stairs used to be.
Somehow, the destruction of the entire staircase had left little more than a few jagged gaps in the plaster of the wall. A flap of carpet hung from the empty space on the second floor.
She took a step forward, her gaze falling to the flattened area where her body had fallen. Just to the left, three rows of long rusted nails jutted out from a piece of wood. If she’d fallen even a few centimetres in a different direction then she would have suffered a lot more than just bruising.
Something Steven Alton had once said sprung to the forefront of her mind: “You can’t do everything alone Jules. If you don’t let people in one of these days you are going to land yourself in a mess and nobody will be there to help you out of it.”
As The Daily’s story flashed before her, Jules wondered for the first time if he might have had a point.
‘Are you okay Lovey?’ The soft tone of Terri’s voice interrupted her disjointed thoughts.
Jules shook her mind clear, turning away from the mess. ‘Yes I’m fine, just lost in thought there for a minute.’
‘Are you sure, you look terribly pale?’
‘Just a bit shocked by it all still, I’m fine though really,’ she reassured Terri and herself. ‘Now shall we get to work?’
‘Well me and the boy’s can tackle this by ourselves. You’ve had quite an upset this morning. Why don’t you do something else today, take a drive somewhere maybe?’ Terri promoted gently. ‘It would be good to get some paint on the walls before the new staircase arrives. You could go to Cheltenham and look at some colours?’
Jules lifted a hand to the bump she’d received the last time she’d thrown herself into work following one of The Daily’s stories. ‘I think you might be right.’
‘Good then. Well grab the other end of that ladder for me Lovey and I’ll get your things down in no time.’
As Jules climbed into her car she had every intention of head
ing to Cheltenham, but as she pulled out of the driveway a feeling of dread began to creep through her.
How many of the millions of readers of The Daily would she have to meet if she left the hamlet? She wondered.
The irony of the situation did nothing to improve her mood. Just a few days ago she had found the tiny community suffocating, but now the small row of houses tucked between two valleys felt like her only haven.
Until she came to terms with the paper’s horrifying attack she needed to stay put.
Applying gentle pressure to the accelerator, Jules eased her car back in the direction of the guesthouse.
Maybe she would visit Rich, she pondered thinking back to Terri’s misinterpretation about Guy and her previous resolve to take things a step further with Rich. That is, if The Daily’s destructive reach hadn’t stretched to the delicate relationship she seemed to be forming with him.
Then another thought struck her. No matter how fictional the tabloids accounts of her previous relationships, they had been right about one thing: in every place she’d moved to, she’d had one short relationship. She had never been the one to suggest taking things further and the relationship had always died when she’d moved away. Or did she move away to end it?
She thought she liked Rich. He made her laugh and he didn’t take life too seriously, but maybe he was just another stop gap she would end up moving away from the moment the house was finished.
All of a sudden, she had no idea how she really felt or what she should do. She needed to think.
Nineteen
What the fuck was he doing? Guy asked himself as the dry edge of his index finger pressed against the doorbell.
Guy listened to the slow movement of footsteps from inside the house, suddenly aware that the plan he had spent hours formulating in the early hours of the morning did not just hinge upon getting Juliet to listen to him, it was the plan. Hardly worthy of an Ocean’s Eleven plot line.
‘Jules, Jules, Jules,’ he repeated the name under his breath, recalling the look of venom that had crossed her face on his last visit to Cottinghale.
An elderly woman with a tight grey perm and a floral housecoat opened the front door. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Mrs Beckwith?’
‘Yes dear.’
‘I’m Guy Rawson, we spoke on the phone.’
‘Oh yes of course, do come in.’ Mrs Beckwith shuffled her blue skippered feet back, allowing Guy into the guesthouse.
‘Now remind me Mr Rawson, you’ve booked for a week is that right?’ the landlady asked as she pushed the door carefully shut.
‘Yes please Mrs Beckwith. Although I may extend it, if that’s not a problem?’
‘Oh not at all dear. There’s not much call for my rooms until hiking season, and even then I’m empty more often than not. Not that I mind these days though,’ she sighed. ‘Now, let me give you a quick tour and then I’ll leave you to settle in. This is the key for the front door, and one for the room,’ she said as her cool wrinkled hand pressed two keys, into Guy’s palm.
‘To your right is the dining room where I serve breakfast, and beyond that is the living room with a television and a few books, that kind of thing.’
Guy followed Mrs Beckwith’s short shuffles as she led him through the various rooms; each one appearing more cluttered than the last as his eyes fell upon the dozens of strange brass animals and lace cloths.
‘I’ve got another guest staying at the moment too – Miss Stewart. Although I doubt you’ll have a chance to get under each other’s feet much as she’s out most of the day. I’ve been making toast and coffee for her around eight each morning, but I can do two servings if you’d prefer a different time?’
Suddenly, Guy felt his mouth dry up. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. He hadn’t thought about where Jules had been staying until that very moment. He’d seen the derelict house; it was unliveable. And yet it had never crossed his mind that she would be staying in the guesthouse too.
It could be perfect, he reasoned as he processed the information Mrs Beckwith had shared with him. He’d planned to go up to the house the minute he’d dropped off his bag, but this way he could simply wait for her to return. She would be on her own then at least.
But would she listen?
‘Mr Rawson?’
‘Eight is perfect Mrs Beckwith, thank you,’ he responded with a smile as he followed Mrs Beckwith up the stairs.
‘There aren’t a lot of places to eat around here, but I fix an evening meal most nights. It’s nothing exciting mind you, just casseroles and such. I pop it in the oven in the kitchen to stay warm and that way you can help yourself whenever it suits you. Just leave the dishes in the sink when you’re done.’
She stopped on the landing, her hand gripping the top of the banister as she took two long intakes of breath.
‘Well here we are.’ Mrs Beckwith opened one of the three doors on the landing in front of him to reveal a small bare room in complete contrast to the clutter covering the rest of the house.
‘Err, lovely thanks,’ Guy said as he entered the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a single bed, he thought, dropping his holdall to the floor.
‘Good good. Now, the bathroom is to your right and if there’s anything you need I’ll be in my little annex at the back.’
‘So,’ he began before Mrs Beckwith could leave. ‘The other guest, is she is a hiker or something?’ he asked, trying to hide the curiosity from his voice.
‘Oh no. Miss Stewart is one of us really. She’s bought the old house at the top of the lane. You probably passed it on your way in. It’s been empty for months. Nobody seemed to want it until it caught Miss Stewart’s eye. She’s just staying here until it’s in a fit state to be lived in again.’
Without needing to be prompted further, Mrs Beckwith continued: ‘It’s so nice to have a fresh face around here, and such a beauty too. Already snapped up by the landlord. They make a lovely couple,’ Mrs Beckwith sighed. ‘She’s had a terrible time of it though,’ her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’m not one to gossip you know, but she’s been in the newspapers this week. Some nonsense caused by a nasty ex-boyfriend as far as I can figure. The poor thing has been in angst about it all.’
‘Oh.’
He turned to the thin framed window, hiding his expression from the elderly landlady as he looked out to the tree lined slope that dwarfed the village, separated from the house by a small garden turned parking space, currently taken by his Jaguar. He was suddenly glad he had tucked it out of sight. If Jules knew he was here, she could just as easily turn around and leave again and he’d be none the wiser.
Although maybe he was too late anyway, he wondered, fighting back a wave of nauseating fear at the thought of Juliet in love with another man.
He’d wasted five pointless years without her. All that time they could have been together if he hadn’t fucked it all up.
He had to believe it wasn’t too late. She had loved him once with all of her heart. It had taken him until just recently to realise he’d never stopped loving her. Maybe the same could be true for Jules. If only he could make her see it.
‘You look very familiar Mr Rawson,’ Mrs Beckwith’s voice cut into his thoughts.
‘Call me Guy.’ He spun back towards her.
‘Have you stayed here before? The grey of her eyes, magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses, burnt into his face.
‘No I haven’t Mrs Beckwith, just one of those faces I guess,’ he responded lifting his shoulders into a shrug.
‘Or my eyesight more likely. It’s not what it used to be I’m afraid.’ She sighed again. ‘Well I’ll leave you to it Mr Rawson.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome dear, and remember I’m just downstairs if you need anything.’
Guy stepped back towards the door, closing it behind the guesthouse owner as she left.
Unlike so many of the vain and egocentric models he’d worked with in the past, it
had never bothered Guy when people failed to recognise him. In fact, he preferred it that way. He had never once tried to jog someone’s memory or list the campaigns he’d worked on. And the last thing he needed right now was a reporter snooping around, dragging Jules further into the mess he’d created and further away from him.
Once he’d heard the slow steps of Mrs Beckwith move below him, Guy crossed back to the window. The crisp February air crept through the single pane of glass, reaching out to him like a cold breath on his skin.
Cottinghale seemed like the perfect place for the old Juliet. A small community with people who cared about each other and always had a friendly word to say to anyone passing by. The old Juliet with her big smile and open nature would have slotted in perfectly. But the new one? He wasn’t so sure.
Although maybe this was just another stop on the road, Guy wondered, thinking of The Daily’s story. It wasn’t the old boyfriends that bothered him, well not much anyway, but the thought of the laughing happy girl he’d once known moving from place to place in a solitary existence that filled him with an unsettling sadness.
At least with the bitter taste The Daily’s story had left in the back of this throat, he knew with total clarity that his feelings for Jules were more than just a passing whim.
It had become more than a search for whatever was missing in his life. He had made a terrible mistake a long time ago and now he had to fix it. No matter how long it took or however many rejections she threw at him. No amount of torment could come close to the thought of his future without her.
Nervousness hit like an explosion of sherbet dip fizzing inside him. The thought of what he had to do caused his heart to throb against his rib cage as it doubled in speed. But the thought of what he risked losing again dropped it to his stomach in a sickening flood of fear.
Guy brought back the memory of her face in those first few seconds and clung to the belief that somewhere inside a part of her still felt the same as she had done years ago.
The Reluctant Celebrity Page 13
