by Sue Watson
“We have been offered the moon on a freaking stick,” Donna screeched, waving a wad of papers in my face. “Where shall I begin? New York? The way of Piers Morgan with your own talk show, working title: ‘Trailer-Trash Talks Back’?”
She was talking ten decibels louder than everyone else and was beside herself with excitement.
“Donna. Please keep your voice down, they might still be filming.”
“All the more reason to shout from the rooftops how fabulous you’ve become... I was right. Oh boy, was I right. This little sojourn up the mountains has done for your career what Viagra does for Hugh Hefner every Friday night!”
“Yes, that’s great” I monotoned, looking around to see where the others had gone.
“‘Bitch Stole My Job?’”
“What?”
“A new documentary series, about people who’ve had their careers stolen by younger, prettier women,” shrieked Donna, leafing through her papers. “Oh and...hold your breath... Oprah’s people... Yeah, you heard it right girl... Oprah’s people are talking ‘Public Person Private Breakdown’...”
“Oh, really... I’m not sure that would be...”
“Oh and before I forget, Dr Oz is LOVING your menopause and that guy is desperate to share it with the Western World. He wants your hot flashes and low libido all over his ‘Menopause Mayhem’ special.”
“I don’t.”
“And FYI, the Guardian are talking up a piece about the orphans of Nepal starving while rich westerners drink champagne and celebrate the price of gold... You know the Guardian, it’s something along the lines of: ‘how can celebs drink disgusting Dom Perignon in a country where water is scarce and orphans are starving and trafficked.’ But I think you should go with the ‘Hot Celebrity Magazine’ perspective. It’s along the same lines, but with a more refreshing angle: they want you in Nepal drinking Dom Perignon and partying WITH those orphans – obviously only the very cute, photogenic ones. ”
“You are kidding me?” I said, swivelling in my throne to stare at her.
“OK, I take your point. Not easy to find photogenic orphans...don’t sweat it babycakes, I’ll get pretty ones shipped in.”
I looked at her face. She wasn’t joking. I’d heard enough.
“Can we go, Donna?” I asked quietly, looking round to see if anyone was still watching me. Although I was still on my ‘throne’, the cameras had stopped rolling and the crew were striking the set. Flinty came up to me.
“Tanya, there are a lot of journalists that want to speak to you. The show has been a ratings success, so they are very interested to hear from the Queen of the Mountains!”
“Do I have to?” I sighed.
“Hell yes, you have to!” screeched Donna, and pushed me towards the waiting press.
After what seemed an eternity, but was really only about an hour, the interviews were over. All I wanted was to have a boiling shower and find somewhere to curl up and sleep but Donna had other ideas.
“What’s wrong with you, Little Miss Celebrity Royalty? Donna rasped, too excited to be grumpy. “There’s a wrap party with your name on and don’t say I don’t think of my Queen’s needs – I have brought supplies!” Along with my wipes of choice, she brandished a large box of Clé de Peau make-up. It was very expensive and hard to get hold of but she’d had it flown over specially. I smiled at her and opened the box, unable to contain a little yelp of pleasure on spotting the beautiful container of Luminizing Face Enhancer. The illuminating beads promised to capture ‘the ever changing radiance of the Mediterranean’ in my skin and if ever I needed some of that, it was now.
I applied my make-up while leaning against a tree as Donna held up a mirror. She barked instructions at me like a sergeant major about where to put the blusher and once I’d finished with a slick of the lip-gloss that ‘dazzled with diamond clarity,’ she took me by the hand and guided me towards a large tent. As we drew nearer the door, she pushed me ahead and lifted the canvas flap. I stepped inside and suddenly party poppers were going off, phones were flashing and everyone was cheering. A sea of smiling, friendly faces greeted me and I almost burst into tears.
“Well done, Tanya!” cried Cindi, rushing over to us, Marcus in tow.
“Ooh Tan, you dark horse. The viewers loved you all along. Bossy old Tanya Travis, the nation’s sweetheart. Who’d have guessed it?”
“Yes,” I smiled weakly, taking it as the compliment it was meant.
“Darling, you were fabulous but don’t get any ideas – I’m the only queen around here,” Marcus giggled, emptying a glass of bubbly and reaching for another.
“You OK, Tan?” Cindi held her head to one side, a concerned look on her face.
“Oh yes I’m fine. I...just...I don’t know what I want anymore. After all that has happened and all the stuff with Nathan, I feel very wobbly. I’m angry and I’m upset and... Well I can’t believe that I was so taken in by him.”
“Well, I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but Nathan... he once tried it on with me you know, when I was working with you.” She looked straight at me, ready to give me the details, but I couldn’t listen. I was too fragile to take any more, wrapping my arms around myself I put my head down, shaking it slowly, willing her to understand and change the subject.
“Tan...don’t let Nathan put you off men forever. I mean none of them are perfect, some are just a bit better than others,” she placed her arm around my waist and leaned in:
“We come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.”
“Yes... I suppose you have a point...but I reckon Nathan’s imperfections are so numerous, that the perfect bit would be hard to find. Is that one of your quotes?”
“Yeah... Well, actually it’s another one of Angelina Jolie’s, she’s fab.”
“What a crock of shit,” screamed Donna, who’d obviously been earwigging. “Didn’t Angelina Jolie also say: ‘I am so in love with my brother right now’?” At this, Donna staggered around laughing, giving Marcus the opportunity to take her aside to discuss his Lear.
Cindi smiled at me and shaking her extensions in amazement at Donna, wandered over to her mum who clamped her arm around her with pride. She smiled lovingly at the porn-star daughter whose tits would pay for the conservatory she’d no doubt longed for all her adult life. Marcus was now quaffing his second glass of champagne, eulogising on something thespian and introducing Donna loudly to his ‘dear, dear, friend’ Harriet who’d apparently played a ‘feisty’ Ophelia to his Hamlet in a 1974 production at the Old Vic and had flown over to be with him at the end of the show. Jonny joked alongside, unaware he was now being an unfunny gooseberry – but Nathan, and Rex for that matter, where nowhere to be seen.
I realised I needed to clear my head, and there was someone I had to find and talk to.
“Hello, I wondered where you were,” I said, spotting him at the makeshift bar. He was standing with his hand in his pocket, sipping from a bottle of beer. He was wearing a sky-blue cotton shirt buttoned loosely, open at the collar and his eyes were smiling as they took me in. Gazing at him I noticed, not for the first time, how muscular his forearms were as they emerged from the blue cotton to lift his beer bottle. He drank slowly, never taking his eyes from mine.
“So... Tanya, the winner, eh?” he said with a smile, placing his bottle on the bar. I smiled back at him.
“Yes. It’s great,” I sipped my drink and leaned on the bar. “I should be happy but I’m not.”
“Tanya, happiness isn’t a gift that’s given to you... Happiness is a flower, a friend, a beautiful day. It happens; you can’t order it up like one of your takes aways.”
“I guess you’re right Ardash. You are a good friend and I’ll miss our chats. I know I just sound like a spoiled westerner to you but you’ve helped me to see things a bit differently.”
“We all make mistakes in life, Tanya, don’t feel bad. You are a good person.”
I sighed. “I try to
be but I always seem to fail. Like now, everyone else has families and lovers here and... Well, you heard about Nathan and I?”
“Ah yes, very sad,” he looked down, playing the grieving friend for a second but when he looked up I saw the twinkle in his eyes.
“Oh, you don’t have to pretend. Everyone else seemed to realise it was wrong except me.”
“You thought you were in the love..?”
“Yes, I thought I was in love with him. But then, I thought I was happy in my crazy talk-show life and naïvely thought I was making a difference. But none of it was real.”
“Ah, Tanya, love and life is very confusing, yes?”
“It certainly is. I’m not sure now that I ever really loved Nathan – maybe I just needed him, which is a different thing.”
We were both silent for a few moments. I looked round at the party which was in full swing. It was to celebrate my victory – and I was the only one who wasn’t having a good time.
“Anyway, I’ve had enough here... If I don’t go now, I’m just going to be boring everyone, going on about Nathan. I’ll get off now, I just wanted to say goodbye,” I sighed, finishing my drink and moving to go.
“No Tanya. You can’t go – it’s too early for the ‘Queen of the Mountains’. I come with you. You like to spend the time away from here but with me instead?” he asked.
“Oh...well... I don’t know.” And I saw a flicker of disappointment across his face and in that moment thought why not? “Yes, that would be nice,” I nodded, surprised at this sudden focus on the two of us.
“I was going to say... Are you liking the moonlight?” he smiled.
“Yes, I love the moonlight.”
“Tonight is a full-moon party at Pokhara Lake, very beautiful. You like to see the moon over her water?”
“That sounds lovely... Yes I’d love to go with you...to the party.” I heard myself say. I was going home tomorrow and maybe I’d never see him again. But just for tonight, I could pretend I really was someone else. He smiled and sipped some more drink but he didn’t move.
“Shall we go...to the party then?” I blurted.
“You British, always rushing, rushing. Tanya says, ‘I want now, I want now’,” he teased.
“No. It’s just that if we’re going, I’ll need my handbag... I have to wash, if I’m going to a party.”
“Tanya, you don’t need the bags and the washing.” The smile on his face made me feel 18 again and despite feeling desperate for wash or a wipe, I resisted and concentrated on what was happening. We left the tent and walked out into the night without a word.
He guided me across a little scrap of grass and I liked the way he seemed to take care of me – I felt safe again. Then we stopped in front of an old motorbike.
“This is the ride, Tanya Travis,” he said with a smile. I froze for a moment. There were two shiny helmets hanging on the handlebars and he handed me one of them.
He could see by my face I wasn’t keen. “I am very good rider” he said. “And it’s not far.”
I stared at him, and at the bike. I breathed in the night air and calm swept over me. “Alright” I said, taking one of the helmets and swallowing hard. “Let’s go.”
The ride was a short, breathtaking one, through the dark countryside. I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him and cling with both my arms around his waist. The wind breathed new life into my face under the silent stars above and I felt truly happy for the first time in years. When we finally shuddered to a halt and he climbed off at our destination I was reluctant to let go. And I realised then that this might be more for me than just friendship – I could have held on to him through the darkness all night.
We walked towards the lake side by side. My heart soared above the dark water. It hovered there for a while, mingling with the tingly aroma of Indian spices; expectation seemed to pepper the night breeze. Arriving at the lake we stood together and I felt like I was standing on the edge of the world. My whole body was suddenly alive with anticipation. Ardash opened his arms, gesturing silently to the lake, like it was his gift to me. The moon was huge and luminous, reflecting in the black water. The lake was still and quiet save the odd shimmer as a gentle breeze stirred across its perfect surface, leaving gentle ripples. We spent a few moments just watching.
Looking across the water to the far side of the lake, where the gentle but insistent thump of trance music throbbed, Ardash suggested we take a boat across. I nodded, tired and happy and feeling like I was in another world. He spoke to one of the boatmen and within minutes we had climbed into a rickety wooden boat, illuminated by a small lamp, and were on the water. Despite the brilliant moon and the gentle slapping of the oars in the water, I couldn’t drag my eyes away from him. In the lamplight I thought he was pretty spectacular – tousled, black hair, deep, brown eyes and a smile that seemed only for me.
Here, where no-one could see, he took my hand in his, gently, slowly, giving nothing away like it wasn’t really happening. A secret between us in the darkness. Then on reaching the shore, he let go, like it had never happened.
Arriving on the other side, we found a makeshift bar for beers and clutching our bottles walked back to the water’s edge, where we stood for a long time staring at the black lake, glittering in the milky moonlight.
“This is magical,” I said, drinking it all in, not wanting to miss a second.
“Yes,” he said. “This is what it is to be Nepali – being here, being part of this. Nepal is not about being anything or anyone, it’s not about being Hindu or Buddhist, it’s just ‘being’... Being here.”
I’ll never forget the look on his face, pure love and pride for the land he was born into. As I looked into his eyes, my heart turned to liquid and slipped unnoticed into the black watery depths, lost forever, in Pokhara. I felt a million miles away from my life back home in rainy Britain, with its rules and recessions and endless pressures. Tonight I wanted only the ‘being,’ the ‘now’ of Nepal with him and the lake at Pokhara.
Later we danced and laughed, ate chilli chicken and drank more cold beer. All too soon, the thumping music succumbed to the breaking dawn and we had a short, thrilling ride back to base camp.
The party there had only just wrapped and some of the others were still up, sleepily chatting and drinking. Ardash and I strolled into camp to be met by the sight of Nathan, sitting by the campfire, staring into the flames.
I looked from Nathan to Ardash who seemed to know what I needed and leaving me alone, he wandered off to chat to the huddle of early-morning revellers. I took a deep breath and walked towards Nathan as he watched the last few flames struggling for survival.
He looked up, almost hopefully, as I approached.
“I’m sorry Nathan...about everything.”
“Yeah well, you’ll survive. You’re the one with the fame and the money... I don’t know what’ll happen to me now.”
“I don’t have any money and I doubt there’ll be much interest in me when I get back home.” I said. “But you’ll be fine. There’s no point in going over it – I just don’t think you and I were forever.”
“Who knows?” he said, looking up at me, trying to read my face. “I mean, we could start again, Tanya... I’d give it a go...”
Those beautiful eyes, that smile, almost catching me off my guard again... It would be easy to go back to something familiar and then I wouldn’t have to be on my own when I got home. And for a second I wondered, just wondered if...?
“I...really hoped we had something, Nathan. But I think I knew all along that you didn’t really love me.” I sat down next to him. “Do you know, I thought if I convinced myself I loved you enough, it might be infectious, that you’d catch it like a cold...and love me as much.”
“Tanya, I did love you, in my own way... I still do...but you never let me be free.”
“But ‘your way’ isn’t mine, Nathan. I wasn’t possessive; I didn’t want to be your whole life – just the best part. And for you, I wasn’t.”
>
“I know, but I could try... We could go back home, a fresh start?”
“I’m sorry, Nathan. It’s over.”
He started to protest, but I carried on. “Funny, I always thought I wasn’t enough for you, but the truth is, you weren’t enough for me.”
He looked back into the fire, defeated. I left him by the dying embers and walked slowly back to the others.
At 7am the bus arrived to take us on the long journey back to Kathmandu. Donna had left hours before to fly back to the hotel from Pokhara.
“How typical,” I sighed, as we got on the bus. “I have to suffer the indignity and near-death experience of riding on this for seven hours while my bloody agent flies back in 35 minutes.”
“At least Paul isn’t driving, Tan,” said Cindi. Apparently him driving us on the outward journey was his first challenge – but as I’d thought he was the runner, it was lost on me.
“Yes, Paul isn’t at the wheel, that’s something,” I smiled as I climbed into my seat next to Ardash, thinking how different the journey back to Kathmandu would be – in so many ways.
I sat next to Ardash the whole way back to the hotel. I dozed, and looked out of the window, marvelling at the beauty of the scenery. It was so strange – my relationship had just ended, I’d been humiliated on prime-time television yet here I was, looking at this beautiful view, feeling like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music – my mind was skipping through the mountains with a song in my heart.
We finally reached the hotel at 2pm. I let everyone else get off the bus before me and hung back with Ardash. As we sat waiting to get off, his hand slipped into mine again. Only for a split second, then it was gone. My heart fizzed as I climbed down and walked into the hotel, still in Julie-Andrews mode, I resisted the urge to dance up the steps with happiness and begin a vigorous performance of ‘The Hills Are Alive’ from the top step.
