by Carla Blake
“Okay, fair enough, but you’re still worrying about nothing. Just go in there, be yourself and I promise you, they’ll love you.”
“Yeah. That’s easy for you to say.”Andrea said. “They’re your parents. But I’m going to feel like I’m on parade. I haven’t a clue what to say to them.”
“Well, try hello for starters and see how you go from there. Come on, babe, this isn’t like you. Where’s my big, strong bodyguard?”
“Hiding beneath my rib cage I think, judging on how my heart’s protesting. But if I’ve got to do this, then let’s do it. Before I run away and hide.”
Carrie’s father stood up the moment they entered the room and striding across the carpet, offered Andrea his hand.
Aware of his close scrutiny, she shook it firmly.
“So?”He said, looking her up and down. “You’re the young lady my daughter has fallen in love with are you?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A last day of peace, Carrie thought, before she threw herself into the melee known as Christmas and people she hardly knew called her ‘darling’ and superciliously kissed the air on either side of her face, and Carmichael, racing into ‘agent overdrive’, ushered her to every festive party possible, forcing her to pretend that everything was wonderful and everyone was wonderful and that she was truly having a great time!
What a laugh! And to think Christmas was supposedly a time for relaxing and putting your feet up. The only way she was likely to get horizontal was if she collapsed with exhaustion and they had to carry her off on a stretcher and even then she doubted if she’d get any rest. Knowing Carmichael he’d be at her side in an instant, chatting up the nurses and busily arranging for her to do an interview for hospital radio!
Death was probably her only real chance of getting any peace around here and that would only work providing Carmichael couldn’t get hold of an ouija board.
But at least he couldn’t reach her here.
In her bathroom. Submerged beneath a warm sanctuary of bubbles.
She adored baths. Adored the peace even more. Her usual habit of a quick shower and on with the day sacrificed for a few minutes respite in which other people really did feel they couldn’t disturb her.
Which, thinking about it, was bloody sad really. The idea that she had to run a bath just to get a minute to herself.
Maybe she should speak to Carmichael about it. Get him to reduce her workload.
Topping up the hot water, she slid down until only her head remained visible and sighed appreciatively. Only three days until the party and tomorrow was going to be busy, busy, busy. The decorators were coming in to do wonders with tinsel and baubles, Andrea was due to inspect the troops and Amanda had declared her intention to hide in the kitchen, in case the ‘terrible mess’ the furniture and carpets were left in made her stressed.
But all that was for tomorrow. Today, after she’d said farewell to her parents, who’d been absolutely wonderful with Andrea and who, despite her best efforts to convince them to stay for the party , had chosen to return to Wiltshire, she was due to appear on yet another chat show and then - oh God - she had to spend all afternoon with one of those awful ‘ Stars in their Homes’ magazines. Another of Carmichael’s bright ideas and one in which he had steadfastly refused to see that the magazine wasn’t so much interested in her fixtures and fittings, or where she ate her breakfast, as they were in getting an photograph of her and Andrea together. An ‘exclusive’ they could splash all over the front cover and congratulate themselves on being the first to accomplish.
A plan Carrie was adamant was destined to fail.
Andrea was planning to spend all afternoon locked in her office and as far as the magazine was concerned, strictly out of bounds!
Half an hour later, and standing in the hallway, Carrie said goodbye to her parents.
Her father embraced her warmly, smiling at Andrea over her shoulder.
“You two have fun this Christmas.”He said. “And if anyone gives you any stick, just let me know and I’ll come right over and sort them!”
Her mother laughed. “I wouldn’t count on it!”She said. “This is the man who runs away if a bunch of cows looks at him funny!”
“Some of them beggars are bloody big!”Her father retorted. “And let’s not forget who had a panic attack over that goose in the car park! But I’m serious love. Don’t you take any notice of what folk say. You just ignore them and if they keep on, I’ll come down and bore them to death with my vast knowledge of fertilizers.”
Smiling, Carrie squeezed him tight. “Do you have to go?”She asked, addressing the pair of them.”It’s been great having you both here and it’s such a long drive back toWiltshire. Please stay. I’d love to have you at the party.”
“I know love.”Her mother replied. “But we’d prefer to have Christmas at home. Nothing against you or your friends, but I think your dad and me might find it all a bit much, all that glamour and things. Perhaps we can come down in the New Year though? When all the fuss has died down. We could go shopping in the sales.”
“Okay, you’re on! But you don’t have to wait for the sales, mum. If there’s anything you need....”
“We don’t need anything love.”Her father cut in. “It’s just your mother. She loves a good bargain.”
“Look who’s talking! Who was it who dragged me half way round every DIY store in Wiltshire simply because he swore blind he’d seen that garden bench we wanted advertised for twenty quid cheaper somewhere? Hours we spent looking for that wretched thing and we never found it! I tell you..”
They were still arguing when Carrie deposited them into the car and waved them off.
She missed them almost immediately.
The chat show wasn’t quite the ordeal she’d expected. It had been set up in haste for one thing, in light of Carrie’s sudden disclosure, and because of this there was no live audience. Just Carrie, the crew and the interviewer; Hilary Channing.
A fey sort of woman with a penchant for chunky earrings who eased Carrie through the questions and left Carrie thinking that whoever had researched them had done a fair and interesting job. A compliment she passed onto Hilary, who accepted it on behalf of the researcher and promised to pass it on again.
Then, after personally making sure both Carrie and Andrea reached their car, even though the weather was freezing, she briefly raised an eyebrow at the size of Brick and hurried back inside again. Her breath streaming out in front of her as she briskly rubbed her hands together.
As usual the London traffic was fraught. The roads crammed with the usual mixture of commuters, bewildered tourists and taxi drivers who typically viewed the Highway code as a work of fiction and cut up everything in sight.
Road works didn’t help much either, and the traffic was stuck in a perpetual stop and go, the pneumatic brakes of buses and lorries hissing loudly everytime they had reason to pull up.
Fed up with all of it, Carrie gazed out of the limousine window and scowled at three workman in orange hard-hats, who standing around a large crater in the middle of the road, were clearly doing nothing more productive than working on chipped mugs of tea.
Brick noticed them too and frustrated, glared at them as they came abreast, receiving nothing in return but a broad grin as the workmen raised their mugs in salute and made no effort to disguse the fact they were trying to peer in.
“Gorgeous, aren’t they?”Andrea quipped. “If anyone ever asks me why it is I don’t fancy blokes, there’s the answer.”
Carrie giggled and with the car finally driving around the obstruction and beginning to pick up speed, she sighed with relief, hoping that with a little luck, Brick might be able to put his foot down and get them home before the dreaded team from ‘ Famous Furnishings’ arrived.
They better pray he did, because if Amanda had to deal with them on her own, she didn’t fancy their chances.
The little housekeeper was far too protective of the house to be polite to people she saw as ‘vultures’ and one wrong word would see them straight out the door. Appointment or no appointment.
Fortunately, the driveway was still clear by the time Brick finally pulled in, but if all was calm outside, inside was a flurry of activity.
Duster in hand, Amanda was polishing for England. Her desire to eradicate even the smallest speck of dust so complete that she didn’t even hear Carrie come in and it was only when Carrie grabbed her by the arm and marched her firmly into the kitchen that she paused long enough to voice her anguish at the house not being ready.
“Of course it’s ready!”Carrie shot back, turning her back to fill the kettle. “You were dusting when I left and you were still at it when I got back! The house looks perfect Amanda, so will you please stop before you wear yourself out.”
But Amanda wasn’t listening and when Carrie turned back to ask if she’d like a biscuit it was to find her wiping vigorously at the surface of the table.
“Give.. me.. that!”Carrie cried, making a grab for the duster and flinging it onto the draining board. “For heaven’s sake, Amanda, stop it! The house is spotless! If that lot find even the smallest speck of dust it’ll only be because they’ve dragged it in with them. Now, calm down for five minutes and have a cup of tea.”
“I can’t!”Amanda cried, eyeing the table’s surface for marks. “There’s still so much to do.”
“No, there isn’t and besides the magazine is going to be too busy trying to get a picture of me and Andrea together to worry about the state of my house. Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, because I do. You’ve done a fantastic job and the house looks great. Now, sit. Drink tea, eat biscuits and when they arrive, go and hide with Andrea. The two of you can sit and watch me squirm together.”
And squirm she did.
Hazel Copeland arrived promptly at three o’clock, dressed entirely in lilac and accompanied by a photographer who barely nodded in her direction before covering his face with his camera and proceeding to snap away.
Once inside, Hazel then became efficiency personified and barking instructions at the photographer, shook Carrie’s hand, before staring pointedly over Carrie’s shoulder as if expecting to see someone.
“Lost something?”Carrie asked, knowing full well who Hazel was looking for, but Hazel merely regarded her with a supercilious smile and raising an eyebrow, wordlessly tried to force Carrie into offering the information they both knew she possessed.
“Your.. er.. other half not about?”She asked eventually when it became clear Carrie wasn’t about to spill.
Carrie crossed her arms. “If you mean Andrea, then, no, I’m afraid she not. She’s working.”
“Oh dear, that’s a shame.”Hazel oozed, continuing to stare about her as if she expected Andrea’s work place to be beneath the furniture. “I was so looking forward to meeting her. Never mind. Perhaps we’ll meet later. Shall we get started?”
“Your photographer already has.”Carrie replied cooly and leading them both into the lounge watched as the photographer snapped a close up of a vase.
“Ron doesn’t like to hang about.”Hazel said by way of explaination. “Some of his best shots have been taken spontaneously. Now.. where shall we have you standing? How about over by the fireplace?”
“We need more coffee.”Andrea announced, turning away from the monitors and picking up the pot. “They’ve only been here ten minutes, but they’re already doing my head in.”
“So I’ve noticed.”Amanda said. “You practically chain drank your way through that little lot. But if anyone’s going, it’s me. You step out of here and they’ll pounce on you like a load of hungry hyenas.”
Andrea pulled a face. “What a lovely analogy. But we know where they are and I really need to use the bathroom. Not something you can really do for me.”
Amanda sighed. “Alright, but be quick and if they do catch you don’t blame me if you appear on the cover of ‘Hello’ magazine looking like a startled rabbit.”
Smiling into the camera Carrie struggled to control her poisonous thoughts. It wasn’t easy. Hazel Copeland was getting on her bloody wick and if she mentioned Andrea’s absence one more time, she’d was going to belt her one and then ram smug Ron’s camera right where the sun didn’t shine!
How many more pictures did he need for Heaven’s sake? And what was wrong with the way she’d had her chairs? It was nothing short of personal invasion the way they were shifting her stuff about and if they didn’t finish soon she was going to loose her bloody temper!
“A couple more in Carrie’s beautiful entrance hall I think Ron.”Hazel gushed. “Then perhaps one or two in the kitchen? That suit you Carrie?”
Seeing the pair of you devoured by hungry wolves would suit me, Carrie thought and smiling fixedly, followed them into the hallway.
“So...”Hazel tried yet again. “Andrea not due back any time soon then?”
Carrie gritted her teeth. “Nooo.”She said. “Like I told you, it’s a busy day for her and she won’t be back ‘till late. But I’ll tell her you were here. She’ll be so disappointed she missed the chance to appear in your magazine.”
The sarcasm flew straight over Hazel’s head, but it didn’t miss Ron’s and sourly regarding Carrie through the lens of his camera he wished it had the capability to spit bullets.
Carrie Shilling and her bloody movie ‘ Avenging Angels’ had ruined his life.
Until then, Tanya, his girlfriend had been perfect. Meek, obedient and always willing to spread her legs whenever he wanted. But then Carrie had exploded onto the scene, with her brilliant, white wings and her bloody great gleaming sword and everything had changed. Suddenly Tanya’s head had been full of feminist crap and she had actually ordered him to tidy up, before refusing to sleep with him unless she wanted to. She’d even had the nerve to drag him out of pub when she thought he’d had enough and three days later she’d left him. Her ‘ Dear John’ written on a flyer for the movie.
“... next time? It would be so nice to have a few shots of you together. It’s always the gay men that get all the best press isn’t it? Doesn’t seem fair.”
Carrie inhaled sharply, unconvinced by Hazel’s solidarity speech. Didn’t she know she could see right through her? There was absolutely no way this horrible woman and her Neanderthal photographer were ever going to step inside this house again.
But Carrie’s growing irritation pleased Ron. He knew how bloody annoying Hazel could be when she was in full ‘ wheedle mode’ and how she could keep on and on, determined to get at the juicy nugget of gossip she had convinced herself was there, and seeing as how Carrie was getting the full Copeland treatment, she was either going to give in and grant them an exclusive, or create a scene just to get rid of them. Either way it would make a juicy article.
He just wished she’d get on with it, because as nice as it would be to get one over on Carrie, he’d been looking forward to finishing early and getting down the pub.
“Look, I’ve told you before.”Carrie sighed wearily. “Andrea is not here and I do not know when she will be back. Now, please, just take your photos, ask your questions and leave. I’m sure you’re both very busy people.”
She’s cracking, Ron grinned and brought the camera up to his face.
“But, surely you can see, Carrie, how beneficial a photo session with Andrea would be?”Hazel persisted. “Our readers might pretend they’re people of the world and that homosexuality and lesbianism are just ordinary facets of life, but in reality, they’re fascinated! And they want proof, pictorial proof that you’re part of a real couple and not just some weirdo who indulges in strange sexual fantasies with women. All of which could be so easily proved by just a couple of photos. Now, tell me, where’s the harm in that?”
Gobsmacked, Carrie just stared at her.
Ron took pict
ures of her incredulity.
“So, what you’re saying.”Carrie said at last. “What you’re actually saying is, that if I don’t agree to have my picture taken with Andrea , you’re going to start spreading malicious rumours about me.”
Hazel had the gall to look shocked. “Good grief! No!”She cried. “That’s not what I meant at all! All I’m saying is - should such nasty tales start doing the rounds, we, at the magazine, would have the wherewithal to quash them immediately and save you and your partner from a lot of un-necessary heartache.”
That was enough for Carrie and unable to control her temper any longer she pushed Hazel towards the door. “How dare you try to blackmail me!”She spat, looking for all the world like the avenging Angel she portrayed on film. “How dare you! Get out of my house! Right now! Who the hell do you people think you are?”
Delighted, Ron snapped away, chuffed to pieces that he was finally getting the pictures he wanted and not at all prepared for Carrie’s hand to suddenly shoot up and cover his lens.
“And you!”She yelled. “Stop taking bloody pictures! I shall be talking to my lawyer about this. Now get out, the pair of you, before I have you thrown out.”
Still snapping away, Ron backed up. Totally unaware of what was behind him and, in truth, not much caring, until his back abruptly slammed against hard furniture and he felt something shudder against him before crashing to the ground.
Standing in front of him, Carrie had never been in any immediate danger, the shattered remains of the china vase all behind Ron, but the crash had been loud enough for Andrea to hear and racing out of the kitchen to see what the hell had happened, she found herself face to face with a waiting camera lens.
The magazine ran the article two days later, despite the threat of law suits from Carrie’s representatives, and although the glamour shots of ‘Carrie at home’ were arranged in the magazines usual style, pride of place still went to the pictures of an anxiously advancing Andrea. Neatly accompanied by a smugly sarcastic caption.
