‘I agree!’ I say quickly. ‘And for the record, I was just helping.’
‘I’m hardly in a position to have a go, am I?’ says Richard ruefully. ‘Seeing as I’ve been less than truthful myself. But it’s got to stop before it lands us in hot water or one of your tabloid pals runs an exposé.’
‘They’re not my friends!’ I protest. ‘It’s hardly my fault everyone’s obsessed with Gabriel.’
Richard raises an eyebrow at this and I brace myself for another lecture. Then he sighs.
‘Actually, Katy, this is one mess I can’t blame you for. But,’ he adds to his wife, ‘we need to talk to each other, Maddy, rather than just guessing how the other feels.’
From the way Maddy’s gazing at him I would say that talking is the last thing on her mind. She’s got a minibus-load of sex toys and the newly toned Richard in her arms and I think it’s time for me to beat a hasty retreat. The looks that are passing between them are enough to set the bus alight.
I’ve had enough green and hairy moments recently to know when I’m not wanted.
‘I’ll take the car back,’ I suggest, grabbing the keys and backing out. ‘Then you guys can, um, catch up.’
But Mads and Richard are too busy kissing to answer. Somehow I don’t think I’ll be getting any sense out of them for a while. Feeling like some prudish maiden aunt, I scuttle out of the bus and head for the car.
Driving back to Tregowan, I mull over the events of the evening. Wouldn’t life have been a lot easier lately if Mads had just told Richard how she was feeling? Then he could have told her how unhappy he was and voilà ! No rowing, no tears and certainly no moonlighting with other jobs. Now they can jet off to Sandals, come back all loved up and everybody lives happily ever after, especially my good self, who no longer has to live in fear of Richard finding out about his wife’s secret life.
Parking the car and trudging up the path to the rectory I can’t help but think that my life would also be a lot easier if I’d only been a little more truthful in my own relationships. If I had taken a really long hard look at how things were with James I could have saved years of wasted emotion. And if I’d had the guts to tell Ollie how I really felt about him then who only knows? I certainly wouldn’t be pretending to be Gabriel Winters’ girlfriend and basically lying to everyone.
It doesn’t feel good.
In fact it’s feeling more and more bloody awful as the days go on.
I’ve got to do something about it.
Once inside the rectory I pour a huge glass of wine and take it outside into the garden, or rather the patch of grass that passes as one. Maddy isn’t much of a gardener. The ground is tangled with bindweed and brambles and the only flowers are the wild dog roses and rampant nasturtiums that hurl themselves over the dry-stone wall. Sitting on the doorstep I breathe in the salt tang mixed with the acrid aroma of barbecue smoke and watch the reflections of the lights in the water. A couple wander out of the Mermaid, arms entwined around each other, and stand for a while gazing out over the harbour. They look closer than words.
I think of Maddy and Richard all loved up in the minibus and of Gabriel and Frankie cuddled up at Smuggler’s Rest and feel desperately lonely.
I knock back my wine and fish into my pocket for my mobile phone. Sod it. I’m going to call Ollie. After all, what have I got to lose? It’s not as though he’s talking to me anyway.
I dial his land line and brace myself for the usual endless ringing or curt answerphone message. When he actually answers I’m momentarily thrown.
‘Ollie?’ I say quickly. ‘It’s me. Please don’t hang up. I really need to talk to you.’
‘Katy?’ Ol sounds taken aback to hear from me and not overly thrilled. ‘Have you any idea what time it is?’
‘It’s Friday night,’ I say. ‘I thought you’d still be up.’
‘It’s one a.m.,’ Ol says, with a sigh. ‘I was asleep. Honestly, it’s really inconsiderate. I don’t hear from you for weeks, except through the tabloids, and then you call in the middle of the night.’ I hear the creaking of bedsprings as he sits up. ‘What do you want?’
‘I have called you. And I’ve written.’ I feel very wronged. If only he knew just how many times I’ve dialled his number and spoken to Vile Nina, or left messages on the answerphone. And of course my letters. Just thinking about how I poured my heart out in those makes me feel all hot with shame. ‘You’re never there and your mobile’s always switched off.’
‘I lost my mobile months ago,’ Ol says. ‘God knows what happened to it. I haven’t bothered to replace it because I quite enjoy the peace.’ He yawns loudly and I can picture exactly how he looks, hair sticking up at crazy angles and pink tongue poking out between slightly crooked teeth.
Isn’t it strange how Ollie’s wonky front teeth are so much cuter than Gabriel’s pearly gnashers?
‘Well?’ Ollie snaps impatiently when I don’t say anything. ‘What’s the matter? It must be urgent, seeing as you’ve woken us up. Or are you pissed?’
Us? That must be him and Nina then. My vision of Ol, all rumpled in his T-shirt and boxers, is instantaneously replaced by a vision of Nina, all silken negligée and toned flesh, coiled around him like a designer python.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper. ‘It’s just… it’s just…’
My throat grows tight and my eyes sting. I grip my phone so tightly that I hear the pink plastic crack.
‘I miss you.’ There, I’ve said it.
‘Really?’ Ollie isn’t exactly jumping for joy. ‘I’m surprised you’ve had the time to miss any of us, what with your new celebrity lifestyle and everything.’
‘That’s not all it seems. I told you to ask Frankie.’
‘As if I ever see Frankie now he’s joined the celebrity circus. But you’ve really moved onwards and upwards, Katy. Sir Bob’s must seem like a different world.’
‘I miss Sir Bob’s too,’ I choke.
‘Bloody hell. You have been drinking if you’re missing school. I can’t wait to leave.’
‘You’re leaving?’
‘I quit teaching at the end of the summer term,’ Ol reveals, and even though I can’t see him I know that he’s smiling at the thought. ‘We’re going to go travelling. I’ve bought a camper van and I’ve put the house on the market. It looks like things are going through. You’re not the only one who’s changed their life.’
I’m not quite sure what to say to this. Congratulations sounds like I want to get rid of him, but if I tell him that my heart’s sinking faster than a pair of concrete wellies I’ll sound petty. I experience a hideous sense of panic. Ollie’s leaving Sir Bob’s, selling his house and basically moving on with his life. I have a sudden image of him and Nina sipping cocktails against a glorious magenta sunset, before wandering off along a beach of powdery white sand.
That sodding Sandals brochure has even got to me.
‘I have you to thank really,’ adds Ollie. ‘I’d never have done it otherwise.’
‘Me?’
‘Absolutely. I saw how you picked yourself up and moved on with your life without so much as a backwards glance and it made me think, why shouldn’t I do the same? I want to be pragmatic and emotionless. Just like you.’
I’m staggered. ‘Pragmatic and emotionless? Me?’
This seems unfair in the extreme. If Ol only knew the buckets of tears I’ve shed over him. I mean, it might look as though I’m all loved up with Gabriel, but I’m not the one who went and got engaged, am I? And I’m not the one who’s broken off our friendship and ignored all contact.
‘That’s bloody rich coming from you!’ I splutter. ‘You never once got in touch.’
‘Me? Come on, I’ve left countless messages with your management.’ Ollie almost spits the word. ‘Would it really have hurt you to just make one call? I thought we were friends, Katy. Whatever happened to that?’
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. ‘You’ve tried to contact me?’
‘Come on, you must know I h
ave. I’ve probably made a total idiot of myself. God knows what that guy Seb must think. He probably has me down as some kind of stalker.’
‘I never got any messages, Ollie. I swear to God. Seb’s Gabriel’s manager. He must have screened them all.’
‘Fuck,’ says Ollie.
‘But what about my messages? I must have left hundreds on your answerphone! And my letters? Didn’t you get them?’
Ollie’s silent for a minute. Then he sighs heavily. ‘I think I can guess what happened to those. Bloody hell, what a mess.’
I start to laugh but it turns into a sob. ‘So you weren’t ignoring me?’
‘Of course I wasn’t! But Katy, you’re with Gabriel now and I can understand exactly what his manager was thinking. I’m sorted too. Maybe it was for the best.’
‘Of course it wasn’t!’ I wail. ‘We’ve got so much to catch up on. There are things I really need to talk to you about.’
Ollie sighs. ‘I’m sure there are, but I’m canoeing at six tomorrow and I really need some sleep.’
I can take a hint. I’m being dismissed. But I just don’t want to put the phone down. What I really want to do is howl that I’m sorry, that I know I’ve cocked things up and that actually, Ol, I really think I’m in love with you, but I don’t think this is what he wants to hear since his life’s so sorted and flipping peachy without me.
So much for telling the truth.
‘Fine,’ I say quickly, swallowing back the lump in my throat. ‘We can catch up another time. Are you coming to Jewell’s birthday party next week? I know she sent you an invite.’
This week random people the length and breadth of Britain have had Jewell’s rainbow-coloured invites plopping on to their doormats. This year the theme is ‘Come as your favourite celeb’, which may or may not be Jewell’s idea of a joke. In any case, the house on Hampstead Heath will be festooned with fairy lights and filled until the small hours with drunken revellers. Jewell’s determined that this year will be the best party yet. The announcement of her birthday has already gone out in The Times.
‘I did get an invite,’ Ollie confirms. ‘But I didn’t know whether to come. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.’
‘You must come!’ I’m horrified how desperate I am to see him. ‘You and Nina, obviously.’
‘Nina?’ asks Ol, sounding as bemused as though I’d suggested he bring Liz Hurley.
‘Of course!’ I so will get treasure in heaven. Still, I reckon I can even bear Nina if it means I get to spend a few minutes with Ollie. I know the girl hates me, but how much damage can she do at a party? Stab me to death with her hip bones? ‘Please come, Ol. Jewell will be devastated if you don’t show.’
‘Just Jewell?’ asks Ollie softly.
Those butterflies are back in my stomach, only this time they’re clog-dancing. I take a deep, shaking breath and dredge up the scattered remnants of my courage. Honesty, remember?
‘Not just Jewell,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll be devastated too. Please come, Ollie. I really miss you.’
Over the miles between us something crackles in the ether. I’m holding my breath. Then Ollie exhales slowly, as though he’s let go of something he’s been gripping tightly.
‘I miss you too,’ he says, so softly that I’m not even sure I hear him say it. ‘I’ll be there, Katy. I’ll be there.’
Then there’s a click as he puts the receiver down and all is still. My phone slithers to the floor and I realise that the pounding in my ears isn’t the sea but my galloping heartbeat.
I sit on the steps and hug my knees to my chest. I know I’m being ludicrous but I feel hugely, ridiculously happy.
Ollie misses me.
I grin madly into the darkness. I feel like dancing and singing; I feel so light-hearted that I swear I could launch myself from the hillside and glide like a gull over the village, somersaulting and diving in pure joy.
OK. He only said that he misses me.
But it’s a start.
The next morning I’m up with the lark, or rather, in the case of Tregowan, the gulls, and as I make breakfast I can’t stop yawning. I’ve hardly slept a wink, firstly because I’m so angry about my calls from Ollie being screened and secondly because the endless squeaking from Mads and Richard’s bed is pretty hard to ignore. I almost wish I’d gone back to Gabriel’s, but I’m so mad at Seb I don’t think I can trust myself not to rip his head off.
Besides, I’ve got so much to do. I hardly know where to start. I rest my bottom on the Aga and munch some toast, but I feel too wound up to eat and drop it back on the plate practically untouched. Blimey! I’ve lost my appetite. Maybe I am like Millandra after all.
And talking of Millandra, I really ought to grab my manuscript and do something with it. It won’t get very far sitting on the coffee table up at Smuggler’s Rest. And I’m going to have to hope that somebody wants to buy it, because I’ve made another decision in the silent watches of the night, based on my new honesty-is-best policy.
I’m going to finish this whole ridiculous business with Gabriel.
He’s had a few hassle-free months out of me. Any longer and Hiya!, Hello! et al. will start speculating about engagements and before I know it I’ll be dressed in leopardskin, draped across a sofa and showing off a ring the size of an ostrich egg so ostentatious that even Liberace would heave. Seriously, I wouldn’t put anything past Gabriel. He’s obsessed with his career. Still, I’m sure Seb can orchestrate us a fairly dramatic split. I’ll even go on the record and say what a fantastic lover Gabriel is if it makes him feel any better.
‘Can you please keep it down?’ groans Mads, stumbling into the kitchen and blindly shoving the kettle under the tap. ‘Some of us are seriously shattered this morning.’
‘If you must stay up all night shagging, what do you expect?’
Mads laughs and pushes her tangled hair back from her face. ‘I feel like I’m on honeymoon all over again. I love him so much.’
‘That’s fantastic, babes!’ I say, giving her a hug. Ollie misses me and he’s coming to the party to see me, so all is well in my world too and I feel generous to just about everyone. Except maybe bloody Seb. ‘I’m really pleased for you.’
‘We’ve talked and talked!’ carries on Maddy, throwing open the window and inviting in a fresh salt breeze. ‘And we’re going to go away, just like we planned, and we’re going to try for a baby. Everything is coming together at last.’
I open my mouth to tell her my news but she is too excited and I shut it again. This is her time to be happy. Hopefully mine will come later. Perhaps I should go to Truro and buy a killer frock just to guarantee it? Mind you, if Ol sees me in a killer frock he’ll probably die laughing. Maybe I’ll just stick to the old faithful velvet flares.
‘Morning!’ Bob the postie sticks his head through the kitchen window, holding out a sheaf of letters. ‘Lovely day!’
‘Oh yes,’ agrees Mads. ‘It’s amazing!’
‘Where’s the Rev?’ asks Bob, looking hopefully at the kettle. ‘Got Saturday off?’
‘Something like that.’ Mads closes her eyes and raises her face to the sun. ‘Richard is spending the day in bed.’
‘Not well? Poor bugger,’ sympathises Bob. ‘Just as well I told the Bishop not to bother coming up. I said I heard someone yowling like they were in pain.’
‘I was singing!’ I say indignantly.
‘The Bishop?’ Mads is momentarily plucked from her fluffy land of shagged-out bliss. ‘What did he want?’
‘Nothing important,’ Bob tells her. ‘He said he didn’t want to disturb you on your day off, but he wanted you to know that he was borrowing the minibus because his car’s in the garage and that it hasn’t been nicked. He said to tell you he’ll unpack all the boxes of Bibles when he gets to the cathedral. They’re a bit short apparently.’
‘Fuck!’ Mads drains of colour and flies out of the front door, clad only in her slippers and dressing gown.
‘What did I say?’ asks Bob, helping himse
lf to my leftover toast.
I’m laughing too much to even try to explain, so Bob gives up and wanders away, muttering about mad incomers as he munches his second-hand breakfast.
I sort the post out, mainly bills for Richard and a letter to Mads from Anna Spring, and one neatly typed envelope for me. I rip it open and almost fall down with shock.
It’s from James.
Katy,
Since you refuse to answer my messages or contact me in any way I am faced with no choice but to write to you.
Our financial affairs need addressing. I assume that since your circumstances have changed you are now in a position to offer me a respectable settlement.
I look forward to seeing you on the occasion of your godmother’s seventieth birthday.
Yours in anticipation,
James
I screw up the letter and lob it into the bin. What is it with James and money? Why he thinks I, or to be more accurate Gabriel, should give him any is beyond me. And aren’t I the one without the house and assets? Shouldn’t he be paying me? Surely his credit can’t be that crunchy?
I’m filled with a sick feeling at the thought of seeing James again. I don’t have a clue who Damocles is but I’m getting very tired of always having his sword dangling above my head. I wish Jewell would ask me before she invites random men in my life to her birthday parties. Why can’t she get her kicks out of knitting and Werther’s Originals like all the other old people?
My phone may be cracked but it still works. I think I know somebody who can shed some light on all this. Without hesitating I speed-dial Millward Saville and ask to be put through to Ed.
‘Hello? Edward Grenville speaking.’
‘Hello, Ed,’ I say, feeling surprisingly pleased to hear his hee-haw tones. I never had anything against Ed. It was always Sophie and James who did their best to make me feel as comfortable as Kate Moss in a chocolate factory. ‘It’s Katy, Katy Carter.’
‘Katy Carter! Good God!’ Ed couldn’t sound more surprised. ‘How the devil are you? You and your new actor chappie? Sophie showed everyone that spread you did in Hiya!. Told all her chums that she knows you.’
Katy Carter Wants a Hero Page 29
