by Brigid Coady
How was he in his element? Annie couldn’t understand why he was letting fans take selfies. And why he still had an iron grip on her and insisted she was in some of them.
‘Austen is a lovely bloke. Really down to earth and everyone loves working with him,’ Will said to a group of fans who stared adoringly up at him, as if he was the second coming.
‘And I couldn’t possibly comment on his private life …’ Annie happened to be looking up in time to see him wink and tap his nose. The fans giggled.
Bastard.
She could feel her mouth drop open. She looked at the fans, at their phones held up to capture everything. They had caught that all on video.
If Austen saw these, he’d think she agreed with Will.
He didn’t think much of her in the first place and this wasn’t going to help. Why couldn’t Will just shut up?
Annie tired to wiggle away again but it only seemed to bring attention to her.
‘Who’s your friend?’ one of the photographers called out.
‘This is Annie. She keeps all of us in order on set. Don’t you, love?’ Will said and squeezed Annie even closer. He smelt of make-up and a too-strong aftershave. Annie’s cheek was smooshed against his chest. Now it looked like she and Will were ‘close friends’. How could she get it across that they were family?
She was going to kill him.
‘Oooo is the set just one big shag fest then?’ the pap shouted.
She wondered whether video of her killing Will would make the internet break, because it was becoming more and more of a possibility. It would cause a few issues with finishing the film, but there was something about this production that made her murderous.
Slowly they made their way through the crowd.
Annie wondered if she could learn those pressure point moves to incapacitate or kill people.
‘What the hell was that?’ Annie shrugged Will’s arm off her shoulder as soon as they got into the hotel.
‘Hey, just doing some advanced publicity for the film. Surely as a producer you’d appreciate that?’ Will said.
He looked confused and shrugged in what looked like a practised ‘aw shucks’ way.
‘We don’t need that sort of sordid publicity, Will.’ She was exasperated. She wanted to ask how it didn’t bother him.
‘Hey, look I’m sorry. It’s just the way things get done in the soap world. I’ve got some bad habits to break.’ He hunched his shoulders. In a way it was similar to how Austen made himself smaller when he didn’t want to be noticed. On Will, who usually strode through life, it sat oddly. Unnatural. As if he was trying on someone else’s mannerisms.
But maybe he had just been trying to help in the only way he knew how?
Annie could feel her anger fading.
After all, Will had his career to think about. The more publicity he had the more his profile was raised. She wished she hadn’t been dragged into it. And she wanted to help him, but couldn’t he work out a better way of raising his profile?
‘Honestly, Annie, I’ll do better and I’m sorry for dragging you into it. I know you’re shy.’
He grabbed her hands and pressed them up to his chest, pulling her closer than she wanted.
‘Forgive me?’
Pulling away would seem rude.
‘Don’t worry, I’m just not keen on being in front of the cameras,’ she said. Or for you to use Austen’s love life as a media sound bite, she wanted to say, but that wasn’t her business.
‘Oh, Annie, you’re really cute when you go all shy like that.’ Will squeezed her hands, too tightly and possessively.
She carefully drew them back.
‘We really should work on a better way of raising your profile than this,’ she said and turned away before walking quickly up the stairs.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Champagne all round.’ Dad’s voice rang round the bar that night.
Annie wanted to wrench the stupid bottle from his hand. Run over there and grab it, maybe accidentally knocking his ridiculous head with it. But then it would cause havoc with the insurance, plus the delay of finding another Mr Bennet.
Instead she stood in the doorway and watched.
What was the point of renting out the house and downsizing if Dad was going to flash the cash all over? All that pain and falling out for bloody nothing. Was she the only one who gave a crap about keeping them solvent?
A loud cheer went round the bar, as the cast and crew were squished together, cheek by jowl. The disastrous team-building exercise had at least managed to get the production spirit going, so something good had come out of it all.
‘I’ve heard that the lovely Louisa is up and well although sadly she won’t be joining us soon. Our replacement Kitty will be arriving tomorrow. But my daughter Marie is going to be bringing Louisa out of hospital tomorrow and will be staying at home to nurse her. I’ve decided we must celebrate.’ He sounded as if he was in full theatrical maestro mode.
As if Marie would give up anything to nurse Louisa. She was probably hoping that Austen would make visits. Or maybe that email she’d sent to Eric saying that the TV crew was causing issues with production security was bearing fruit.
Bouncing on her toes, Annie peered over the crowd and could see her dad leaning against the bar, the centre of attention.
Crap.
There was no way she could stop him. If she did she’d look like a cow and as if she were jealous of Louisa.
Which she wasn’t, well not much. Louisa had youth, looks, and a supportive family on her side. How could Annie not be a little envious?
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Louisa; she was a lovely girl. It was just Annie liked to be solvent.
Mind you … Annie thought back. When was the last time she had a phone call from the bank complaining about the account being overdrawn? She couldn’t remember any texts about large charges coming out.
Odd. Annie’s mind scrabbled around for an explanation. Maybe Dad and Immy had taken her lectures to heart and were practising economy? Or maybe they’d found second jobs … Annie wanted to feel proud but something didn’t sit right. If they had other work they would be boasting about the jobs wouldn’t they?
She looked again at her family.
Was that a new jacket that Dad was wearing? And Immy definitely had a new dress. Hadn’t Kendall Jenner been wearing that in an article in the Daily Planet last week?
Maybe the automatic text alerts weren’t on for the account.
Settling back onto her heels, Annie looked round and found a quiet table in the corner of the bar. It was hidden behind a large and leafy pot plant. Sitting down she pulled up her bank app on her phone and checked the settings.
The alerts were activated. Okay.
Maybe there was a problem with the account. She quickly logged into it and scrolled the last few transactions.
No big expenses had come out.
In fact it didn’t even seem as if they were spending anything. Not even money on overly expensive coffees.
That couldn’t be right.
If they weren’t spending money from that account where were they getting it from?
Visions of loan sharks and rogue credit cards tumbled through her mind.
Surely they wouldn’t do that? They’d got out from under the loan Dad had taken out from a dodgy bloke. Okay, he had been grieving after Mum died but just because the man had gone to the same school as he had didn’t mean he wouldn’t fleece you as soon as look at you.
Annie rubbed the back of her neck.
She ached. She could feel her shoulders hunched up, her muscles tense with stress. Her head was fuzzy with numbers and spinning from trying to make things add up when they didn’t.
What she wouldn’t give for a large pair of hands to settle on her shoulders and rub away her worries. She could almost feel it, feel him. Her mind added an expensive yet familiar scent.
Austen. She missed him.
If she were as dramatic as the rest of her
family she would be banging her head on the table and howling with the futility of it all.
It was bloody stupid. She hadn’t seen him for eight years and had managed fine, well not fine exactly. The first year had been hell and the other seven had been dismally grey, but now … she was watching the documentary of how her life could have been and she craved it. She was an addict who’d relapsed.
Even in the short time he’d been back in her life she had got used to it, woke up every morning wondering if she’d see him. And this past fortnight on set, she was thrown back to how it had been those first glorious months in Stratford. She could pretend that it could be like before, even with the bittersweet pain of watching him move on. Knowing that she’d see him even if it were only a glimpse as he walked from his trailer to set was enough. Or if they crossed paths in the hotel, it gave her a necessary hit.
She was an addict all right.
Annie realized that the world had felt flatter, faded like a filter had been applied to the camera of her life and sucked out the colours when Austen had gone.
It was stupid. She had to wean herself off him again, but if he was going to be in the family she needed to be able to not relapse.
Could she do that? Or was she doomed to a lifetime of yearning?
Alternatively she could run away … change her name and never be seen again. It definitely looked attractive.
Maybe Bollywood was in need of a good production accountant slash producer?
‘Annie, why are you hiding back here?’
She jumped in her seat and turned towards Will who was peering through the foliage that draped around the table.
‘Hey, sorry – was just checking my phone.’ She smiled, or tried to, her lips pulling back into a grimace.
‘Texts from lover boy?’ He winked.
Annie felt as if all the blood had drained from her face. Her heart stuttered.
‘What?’
How had he known about Austen? That was years ago. Holy hell, had Austen told everyone? Was she the butt of the joke?
She could hardly hear what Will said next, her heart was racing so hard.
‘Your boyfriend? Surely someone as fabulous as you has some bloke pining for you at home,’ Will said shrugging his shoulders and aiming for sheepish and flirty. It ended up feeling a little too drama school, as if he was trying too hard to dig.
The blood that had drained so fast from her face then flowed back tenfold. Her face felt tight and hot.
‘No. No boyfriend.’
Because there had always been Austen, there hadn’t been room for anyone else. Maybe if he ever got married, she might be able to think about having a boyfriend.
‘Oh.’ Will came closer. ‘That is good to know.’
Annie dropped her eyes and stood up quickly.
Nope, she thought. I can’t deal with this.
‘I’m just going to …’ she said as she gestured towards the bar.
He shifted slightly so that she had to brush against him as she squeezed past him. He followed closely behind her.
Was that his chest pressed to her back? Annie wasn’t sure whether she also felt the light ghost touch of his hands on her hips. No, it was probably her imagination. There was now quite a press of bodies around them.
‘Annie, champagne.’
Dad sloshed a half a glass at her as she realized it wasn’t a question but a statement. It was the first time he’d acknowledged her since their disastrous dinner. She took it quickly before the remainder ended up all over her or the floor.
Maybe it was an olive branch?
She watched as her dad’s eyes flicked past her and latched on the face behind her.
‘Will, my boy,’ he said delightedly. Her father reached back and carefully handed Will a full glass of champagne.
‘We’ll have a family toast,’ Sir William said. He motioned to Will and turned to the bar, his arm round Will’s shoulder. Annie was left with the view of their backs.
Then Immy crowded in from the other side, cutting her out. Will was in the inner circle and she was out of it as usual.
Family toast. Of course, that only included the family members that fitted.
Annie waited for the usual pang of loneliness, the empty feeling in her gut that she would then stuff with food until it went away.
It wasn’t there. Instead she could feel a bit of grim humour and the faint bitter aftertaste that Will had quickly abandoned her.
Someone jostled her and pushed her further away from the bar and the line of champagne bottles that covered it, the sticky residue of the spilt liquid glistening in the light. All that money, she thought, and tomorrow it would be a memory and many hangovers.
But where had the money come from?
Annie couldn’t interrogate Dad or Immy in the bar about their suddenly magic ability to spend money without it actually coming out of their account or showing up on their cards.
God, she was sick of being the sensible one – their keeper.
She allowed the crowd to move her backwards until she was on the edges of it.
‘Annie,’ a voice said in her ear.
She turned and was pulled into a group hug with Harry and Lewis.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered against Harry’s chest with Lewis’s body crushing her other side.
Now this felt like family. She could smell the faint residue of cold cream that Harry must have used to get rid of his make-up. Lewis had definitely had a cigarette in the past hour.
‘Fancy hiding out somewhere else with us?’ Lewis said.
Annie looked round the bar; the way Will was keeping Dad and Immy in fits of laughter, no one looking at them would know that just a month before, Will’s name was an anathema in the Elliot house.
The crew and cast were getting more and more tipsy on the free champagne. Little cliques and groups that had already formed in this short time clumped together.
Annie didn’t belong to any of them.
‘I don’t want to intrude,’ she said.
‘Bugger that – you can’t leave us to talk to each other; we do enough of that. Come and keep us from being the boring married couple. Remind us what it’s like to be single and ready to mingle.’
‘Single but definitely not mingling,’ she said as she followed them back to the hidden, quiet table that was nearer the lobby than the bar.
She smiled as Lewis started to make affectionate fun of Harry’s ears.
‘Have you ever seen such quirky ears? I mean they are ridiculous,’ he said.
‘You fell in love with my ears, Boo,’ Harry retorted.
‘You keep believing that, darling. You know I’m only with you for your ridiculously attractive friends,’ Lewis replied running a finger over Harry’s ear.
What would it be like to have Harry and Lewis around all the time? Austen was lucky he had such great friends. Maybe Austen was right, she thought. Maybe you could make your own family from your friends.
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn’t that Annie was jealous of anyone who stood near Austen. No, that wasn’t the reason that she wanted to rip Immy’s arms off. It definitely wasn’t because she was clutching his sleeve too tightly.
Maybe the wardrobe people would rip her arm off for her. Immy was crinkling his costume after all. She wouldn’t like to be in Caroline’s crosshairs when she found out who had been pawing Austen. Of course, that was because Caroline took a little too much time ‘re-measuring’ Austen. Supposedly this was standard procedure.
On second thoughts, Annie mused, she wanted to rip the arms off the wardrobe department too.
Annie looked back at the scene that was being shot.
She thought she might have growled. Something was rumbling in her chest as she watched Immy manhandle Austen.
Annie wanted to pry each of Immy’s fingers from him; she wouldn’t bend them back too much. She wasn’t as nasty as Immy had been when they were kids.
She knew that Caroline Bingley hung off Mr Darcy and that was the w
hole point of this scene. That was how Jane Austen had written it. But she couldn’t seem to get her heart to understand that this fiction – that they were acting.
So much for trying to wean herself off him. Austen had only been back a day and Annie felt she was drowning all over again.
‘And cut,’ Les’s voice rang out but not soon enough for Annie.
Annie glared at Immy’s still-grasping hand. The scene was over. O.V.E.R.
‘Let go. Let go,’ she whispered. She knew that Austen didn’t encourage them; it was that everyone seemed to think he was public property. And it wasn’t that she thought he was her property, more …
Why wasn’t Austen moving away?
She looked up to find him watching her.
Crap.
This was the third time he’d caught her staring. He was probably thinking she’d gone mental and was thanking his lucky stars in the privacy of his own room, the room next to hers, that he had a lucky escape all those years ago.
Maybe he thought she was stalking him?
But Immy still hadn’t let go and Annie didn’t care how it looked. She was going to go over there and …
‘Hey, gorgeous.’ Annie jumped at the voice breathing in her ear, interrupting her plans, probably for the best.
‘Oh, Will. Hi,’ she said, relieved to have her mind off Austen for a moment.
Instead she had her mind on why Will was standing quite that close. They were family, and he managed Immy and Dad so well, she could mostly avoid them. But – and it was a big but – he hadn’t stopped flirting with her since the beginning, kept calling her gorgeous or some other term of endearment. He had got more demonstrative as well: a brush of a hand across her arm or back, a hug in greeting that was a little too long.
Which, you know, was okay. He hadn’t had the best time recently and if he was a bit theatrically lovey then that was just him.
But somehow the gossip sites had started to speculate about them being together since the pap walk. The onset tattletale had been selling sweet stories of their supposed romance. And Will didn’t seem to be stopping it. If Will wanted people to think he was dating Cousin It then he needed a rethink of his PR strategy. Maybe he needed sweet and innocent after what he’d been through. He was family …
