The Reluctant Celebrity

by Ellingham, Laurie

  With an abrupt reminder of the task at hand, Jules threw herself into unpacking her purchases. It took an hour, but by the time she’d finished everything was in its place ready to be used.

  Only then, as she flicked the switch on the kettle, did she realise something was wrong - Terri and the boys had still not arrived.

  It suddenly felt strange without them. Ever since they had helped her move in on her first night, Terri, Dan and Jason had been working alongside her almost every day. The house seemed empty without her three builders bustling around inside.

  Jules picked up her mobile from the kitchen counter and scrolled down to Terri’s number.

  Maybe Terri had another job on today and had forgotten to mention it, Jules wondered as the phone rang.

  What to do? Jules wondered, as she found herself connected to Terri’s voicemail for the second time.

  It would be much easier to paint the hallway before the stairs arrived later in the week. The bare plaster would soak up the paint like a sponge. She’d need to do at least two coats to stop it looking patchy.

  It was the kind of job that would take her days to complete, but with Dan and Jason’s help, they could get the first coat done in just a few hours. With that in mind, Jules grabbed her car keys and stepped back outside. They needed another batch of tea bags and more biscuits anyway, Jules thought, slipping into the drivers’ seat of her car and turning on the engine.

  It was still only early morning. Terri would turn up soon enough.

  It took less than a minute to reach the store. She’d driven up and down the lane so many times in the past fortnight she didn’t even slow down as she moved into each turn.

  Drawing to a stop outside, Jules jumped out, not bothering to lock the car as she walked through the open doorway, finding the place empty apart from the bald shop owner standing behind the counter.

  ‘Hi Stan,’ she called as she stepped towards the back.

  The gruff shop owner lifted his head from his notebook but said nothing as she picked up a box of tea-bags and a double pack of chocolate bourbons.

  Jules placed her items on the counter and smiled to Stan as she handed over the change.

  ‘You’ve got some nerve,’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘Sorry?’ Jules asked in confusion.

  Stan shook his head but did not repeat himself as he packed her items into a blue carrier bag and slid it towards her.

  It was only when she entered the cold and empty interior of her house and put the kettle onto boil that she noticed The Daily poking out from the bag Stan had given her.

  ‘For fucks sake,’ she cried out, ripping open the paper and scanning the pages. There was only one reason Stan would have slipped the newspaper in with her shopping, Jules thought as her eyes searched frantically across the headlines until she found it:

  THE DAILY

  WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 26TH

  STAR FACES DEATH THREAT FROM OLD LOVE RAT

  JUICY JULES: “I WANT TO KILL GUY”

  Former top model, Guy Rawson, is facing death threats from ex-girlfriend, Juliet Stewart, after a night of passion.

  This week, The Daily has been reporting on the lives of four poor fellas’ man-hating Juliet destroyed, but now there is a new twist to our story. Just days after Juicy Jules admits to “the most passionate and exciting night of my life...” with the sexy singer she has gone 3600 and speaking to our star reporter Sara-Marie Francis, Juliet claims: “Guy is pathetic, if I ever see him again I will kill him.””

  Police are now investigating the threat further and are thought to be planning to question love rat Juliet in the coming days. Metropolitan Police Commander, Raymond Skelinski, said: “The MET investigates all death threats deemed to be real, and are in the process of speaking to Mr Rawson’s security team to establish more details on this matter.”

  But beware it is not just Guy this gal is out to get. Juliet also has a thing or two to say about her neighbours in the quaint village of Cottinghale: “All they do is stick their noses in. My builders are Hillbillies..., the pub owner’s an alcoholic..., and everyone else in this sh*t hole are deranged. I can’t wait to leave.”

  Sexy star, Guy, could not be available for comment after his sister was rushed to hospital on Monday night with pregnancy complications. The caring singer has cancelled all engagements and set up vigil by his sister’s bedside.

  Thirty-four

  Jules scrunched her eyelids shut as she fought with the overwhelming desire to scream.

  A flood of emotions hit her like punch, pricking her eyes with tears. She slumped against the work surface, allowing her body to slip to the dirty lino as everything clicked into place.

  Becky appearing from nowhere and begging her to go for a drink. The incessant talking early on, lulling her into a false sense of friendship, encouraging her to have another glass of wine, and then another.

  How could she have been such an idiot?

  Jules scanned back over the article and thought back to her hazy recollection of their talk. Becky, or whatever or her name was, must have been recording everything, Jules realised, recalling the designer bag Becky had placed so carefully on the table between them.

  Every word she’d spoken had been twisted and manipulated until it made her seem like a monster.

  No wonder Terri hadn’t turned up, Jules realised as angry tears flooded down her cheeks. They would have picked up The Daily on their way to the house, seen the awful things she’d said about then and turned straight back around.

  Everyone in Cottinghale must hate her.

  As anger and frustration burnt inside her, Jules clasped the newspaper in her hands, pulling it taught as she prepared to shred into tiny pieces. But just as the first tear travelled along the centre of the page a small caption, almost hidden next to an advert for cheap electrical goods, caught her gaze.

  APOLOGIES TO GUY RAWSON

  The Daily would like to apologise to Guy Rawson for photographs of the singer published in yesterday’s edition. We reported that the former model had been celebrating his recent singing success by spending time in a hot tub with five glamour models. We have since learnt that the photograph was taken from one of the star’s videos “A goodbye fool” recorded for his album last month. We apologise unreservedly to Guy and his fans.

  Jules wiped a hand across her eyes, clearing the tears from her vision, and read the paragraph over and over, until horror replaced her disbelief.

  In one frantic movement, she twisted her body to the side, digging her fingers into the back pocket of her jeans until she touched the jagged edge of Guy’s note.

  With shaking fingers, she unfolded the paper.

  To my Juliet,

  You look so beautiful sleeping bedside me that I can’t bring myself to wake you. I need to go back to London. Debbie has been taken to hospital – she’s seven months pregnant, did I mention that?

  I hate myself for leaving you when we’ve only just found each other, but I promise you I will be back very soon.

  There are no words to describe how much I love you

  Call me the minute you wake-up - 0763839393

  Guy

  p.s. Marry me?

  Jules sat frozen as the truth behind Guy’s disappearance and The Daily’s apology soaked through her.

  Guy had not run away. He had not left her. He had meant everything he’d said.

  He loved her.

  Jules pulled her jaw tight, swallowing hard as another thought reared in her mind.

  What had she done?

  What would he think when he read the article? He would have waited for her call all day. Sitting at his sister’s bedside, desperate for her support, and instead he would see today’s paper.

  Guy had no way to know that she hadn’t got the note. What would he have thought? That she’d regretted what had happened between them. That she’d gone to the paper to humiliate him and make it clear she never wanted to see him again.

  The realisation filled her
with a nauseating panic causing her head to pound and her mouth to dry up.

  She loved him. She’d always loved him. From the second he’d followed her into the lecture theatre in their first week of University. Even after Guy had broken her heart and destroyed her dreams, she’d not stopped loving him, Jules finally admitted to herself.

  The anger that had fuelled her existence for the past five years had vanished. She felt lost without it.

  What did she do now?

  Jules looked at the note in her hands again, her eyes focusing on the number he’d left as a spark of hope registered inside her.

  With shaking hands she punched the number into her mobile, suddenly unable to breathe as she waited for it to connect. But rather than the usual hum of ringing, a mechanical woman’s voice echoed into Jules’ ear: ‘The message box for this mobile is currently full, please try again later.’

  ‘No. No. No,’ Jules said to the empty kitchen, slapping her hand against the floor.

  She pressed redial and waited, her heart plummeting to her stomach as the same mechanical voice spoke.

  After the fourth attempt, Jules pushed herself up from the kitchen floor and put the kettle onto boil for the third time that morning.

  In one swoop she had ruined everything. She had alienated herself from the residents of Cottinghale and destroyed any chance she had with Guy.

  She might as well get back to work, Jules sighed, changing into her overalls and clenching her teeth together until the urge to drop back to the floor and cry the day away passed.

  For three hours, Jules worked like a robot, shutting her thoughts away as she focused on painting the wall where her stairs had once been. When a stray memory from the morning escaped from its hiding place and flittered into her mind, Jules clenched her teeth tighter together, forcing her arms to move faster with the roller until the bare brown wall shone a bright white.

  Only when she stopped to open a new paint pot and gulp down a glass of water did she find her body slipping once more to the kitchen floor as a desperate isolation surrounded her.

  She was alone.

  The hermit-like existence which she’d clung to for so long and craved just a few days earlier, now felt like a prison sentence.

  What was wrong with her? Jules wondered, rubbing her paint spattered hands across her face.

  Only when she’d driven Guy away for good did she realise she still loved him.

  And only after The Daily had printed her so-called interview, and she’d shattered the delicate friendships she’d formed with the residents of Cottinghale, did she find herself suddenly wanting to stay.

  The empty house with its creaking floorboards and strange noises suddenly felt like home.

  But how could she live here now? No one would talk to her after they’d read the paper; not that she blamed them.

  Stretching to her feet, Jules looked around her, feeling the loneliness close in once more.

  She looked at the clock on her mobile, surprised to find it already past three in the afternoon.

  What was her plan?

  Hide in her house until she could sell it. Driving out of Cottinghale anytime she needed something. Preying each time that she didn’t bump into anyone.

  How long would it take to sell the house? If she used the same estate agent who’d solved it to her, then it could take months, maybe years.

  Then what? Jules asked herself. Another house, another town. Where would she find another cosy pub with a roaring fire? And a building team that worked hard and cared about the job they did? A place as beautiful as the view from the top of the hill? Where would she find another friend like Terri?

  And if she moved again Guy wouldn’t know where to find her, a voice inside her added. She squashed the thought dead. Guy wasn’t coming back. She’d made sure of that.

  Suddenly, Jules ran from the house and dived into the driver’s seat of her car. Leaning over to the passenger side, she tore open the glove compartment, pulling out a stack of receipts and throwing them one by one to the floor until she found the one Terri had given her last week.

  Printed at the bottom of the page in small orange letters was Terri’s address.

  She may have lost Guy but she wasn’t about to lose her life in Cottinghale and her home too.

  In one fluid motion, Jules turned on the engine and threw the gear stick into first.

  ‘Cherry Blossom Cottage, Hill lane,’ Jules read the address aloud as she drove slowly down the country road, peering up dirt tracks and the occasional road as she searched for Terri’s house.

  Thirty-five

  The black metal gate leading to Cherry Blossom Cottage creaked as Jules lifted the leaver and stepped into the garden.

  It had taken her less than fifteen minutes to find the row of detached bungalows on one of only four side roads in Cottinghale. As the name suggested, Hill Lane ascended up the same valley that she had found herself lost on a fortnight earlier.

  Jules’ feet felt like cement blocks as she made her way up the path towards the front door. In her hurry to find her friend she’d not stopped to think about what she would say. But as the gate clanged shut behind her, Jules pushed her fear aside and pressed the doorbell.

  For what felt like minutes, she stood like a statue, barely breathing as she listened for movements inside the house.

  With half a mind to turn around and forget the whole thing, she forced herself to knock again.

  This time she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps from behind the door.

  ‘Terri,’ Jules called out. ‘Please open the door. I really need to speak to you.’

  Another stretch of time passed before the door clicked open and Terri’s face appeared.

  Even in the growing darkness, Jules could see the puffy red eyes of someone who’d been crying.

  ‘Terri,’ Jules began. ‘Before you say anything, please let me explain. I am so sorry. I understand why you’re so upset, and why you didn’t turn up today but I didn’t say those things about you. Well I did,’ she corrected quickly. ‘But I was explaining how my first impressions of you were wrong and how wonderful you and your boys have been-’

  ‘Jules,’ Terri interrupted in a croaky voice.

  ‘No wait, I’m not finished,’ Jules cried out, the words spilling out of her faster than she could think them. ‘From the moment I arrived here you have been a great friend to me. Not just with all that you have done for me up at the house, but other stuff too. Like taking me for a drink even when I didn’t want to go because you knew it would be good for me.

  ‘And letting me cry on your shoulder and listen to me rant on about the stories in The Daily. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ Jules breathed in a long gulp of air as her eyes scanned Terri’s face for a reaction.

  ‘Are you finished now?’ Terri asked.

  ‘Err yes,’ Jules stammered, her hand already lifting in protest as she waited for Terri to slam the door in her face.

  But to her surprise, Terri stepped back allowing Jules to enter. ‘Well you’d better come in for a cup of tea then,’ she said.

  Stepping into Terri’s house reminded Jules of the show homes she’d visited during her first months as a property developer in Nottingham. The shimmer of gold in the cream lined wall paper, the gleaming mirrors to give the impression of space. The thick red carpet, which ran through the entire house, looked as if it had never been stepped on. Every surface shined the kind of clean Jules thought was only possible in unlived in houses, and definitely impossible in a home with two teenage boys.

  The only thing that seemed out of place was the old grey dressing gown, three sizes too big, wrapped tightly around Terri.

  ‘Wow Terri, this is gorgeous,’ Jules found herself saying as Terri led her into an equally stunning living room.

  ‘Do you think so? Thank you.’

  ‘I like the photos,’ Jules added, stepping over to a wall of black and white photographs printed onto canvas; each one a different snap of Dan
and Jason at different ages; all the way from birth through to the teenagers Jules recognised.

  ‘The boys hate them. They think it’s a weird shrine or something. But every time I look at them it makes me smile. Anyway, pop yourself down, I’ll be back in a tick with a cuppa.’

  Jules sat down on the squishy cream leather sofa and closed her eyes, pushing back the tears threatening to fall.

  She had no idea if her welling emotions had more to do with seeing the pain she’d caused Terri, or the realisation of how cowardly her existence had been.

  Jules found her gaze stuck on the photos on the other side of the room. Would she ever have that? she suddenly found herself wondering. She’d never thought much about babies. A family had never seemed to fit into her lifestyle, but as she stared at the toothy grins of Dan and Jason as children, she realised again how meaningless her life was.

  ‘So I’m guessing you’ve started on the decorating,’ Terri said, pulling Jules out of her thoughts.

  She looked down at her paint spattered blue overalls and nodded. It had never occurred to her to change or even look in the mirror before she dashed from the house. She lifted her hands to her hair, touching a mess of tangles and paint specks.

  Terri passed her a steaming china cup and saucer and sat down on the other end of the sofa.

  A silence stretched between them.

  Jules felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. ‘I am so sorry,’ she blurted out, forcing her eyes to meet Terri’s.

  ‘Lovey,’ Terri sighed. ‘What are you apologising for? I couldn’t give two hoots about what that trash published. Dan and Jason even thought the Hillbilly comment was rather funny. They can’t wait to show their friends they’ve made it into a national tabloid.’

  ‘But you didn’t come up to the house today,’ Jules exclaimed.

  ‘I know,’ Terri sighed, shaking her head. ‘I sent the boys out first thing to do a quick estimate before coming over to you and the burkes decided to do the job there and then.