Katy Carter Wants a Hero

by Ruth Saberton

  ‘Frankie!’ I shriek. ‘You’ve punched him!’

  ‘Ow! That really hurt.’ Frankie rubs his right hand in amazement. ‘I hope my hand isn’t broken.’

  James is mopping his nose with his Darth Vader sleeve.

  ‘You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,’ he sniffs. ‘You’ve just put my price up significantly.’

  I sigh. ‘I’ve told you already, James, I haven’t got the kind of money you need. I’m really sorry that you’ve got yourself in a mess, but I can’t help you.’

  ‘You might not have any money. But Gabriel Winters certainly has. And I reckon he’ll be more than happy to pay me to keep quiet about him and his boyfriend, don’t you?’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ I’m aghast. How could we have been so careless as to discuss Gabriel’s secret somewhere so public? Why, oh why, wasn’t my tongue amputated at birth?

  ‘Of course I can,’ smirks James. ‘Unless you have a better idea?’

  I haven’t actually. I stare at him in horror, this cold stranger whom I once believed myself to be in love with. How could my judgement have been so bloody awful?

  Actually, let’s not answer that.

  ‘That’s blackmail,’ Frankie says bleakly.

  James pulls a morose face. ‘Sorry and all that. Tell you what, though, Chubs, why don’t I give you a little while to think about it?’ He glances at his wrist, or rather at the blank space where his Rolex used to be, which spoils the effect somewhat. ‘How about thirty minutes? That should be enough time to go and tap good old Auntie for a loan. Half a million should cover it.’

  ‘Half a million!’ Frankie starts to laugh. ‘You’re insane. Jewell isn’t worth that.’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find she is,’ says James. ‘I did my homework there. Did you know she has a dicky heart too? Amazing the documents people leave lying around. So careless.’

  I’m speechless.

  ‘So, half an hour then?’ James smiles, or rather his thin lips twitch. ‘You can let me know if I need to go to the papers, or whether Gabriel Winters and I need to have a little chat about his love life. And don’t think that I won’t say anything. There’s a little blonde journalist here desperate for a story. I’m sure she’d pay me a fortune for the information you’ve just divulged.’

  That oblivion sensation is back. How did this go from being one of the best evenings of my life to the worst?

  ‘Frankie! Katy!’ The French doors swing open and Jewell’s face peeks out into the darkness, her eyes straining into the darkness. ‘You naughty things! You’ve ruined the pairings. What is darling Ollie doing with that vulgar blonde?’

  Nothing, I hope.

  Jewell beckons at us. ‘Hurry up. I’ve got an announcement to make.’

  ‘She’s not the only one,’ warns James.

  Frankie clutches my fingers so hard the bones groan.

  Jewell claps her hands. ‘Everybody in now! The fun is just beginning.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ says James. He catches my arm, pulling me towards him. ‘I’m not messing about; I will have that money one way or another.’

  He stalks in ahead of me, black robes swirling around him. I’m surprised I don’t hear the doom-laden tones of the Imperial Death March and see a couple of storm-troopers just for good measure.

  ‘Help me, Obi-Wan,’ I mutter.

  ‘Is he bullshitting?’ asks Frankie, pale with worry.

  ‘I wish. Apparently he’s in serious financial trouble, something to do with insider trading. Ed Grenville says he owes a fortune and it’s being called to account any day now.’

  ‘Christ,’ whistles Frankie. ‘That’s serious shit. He could go to prison.’

  ‘So he’s desperate,’ I say. ‘If we can’t find the cash he’ll go to the papers.’

  ‘That can’t happen!’ Frankie cries. ‘It’ll destroy Gabe. He’ll never forgive me if I ruin his career. Acting is his life.’

  As we enter the hall, Frankie glances across at the stairway where Gabriel, unaware that his secret is only minutes from being blown out of the water, is smiling and chatting with his adoring public.

  ‘No chance of telling the truth?’ I ask.

  ‘No way! He’d never agree to that. He’d rather end it with me. You can’t let that happen, Katy.’

  Catching sight of me, Gabriel breaks away from his admirers and strides through the crowd to pull me to his side. ‘Everyone!’ He raises his voice, only slightly, but instantly all attention is focused on him. ‘You all know my very special girlfriend, Katy Carter.’

  There are nods and murmurs of assent. James is standing slightly apart from the others with his arms folded and a mocking smile on his face.

  ‘Katy’s made me really happy,’ boasts the unsuspecting Gabriel. ‘I want to make her happy too. I’ve been thinking of a way to thank her for ages, and then one evening it came to me.’ He pauses, and every eye in the place is trained on him. ‘Katy writes, and she’s very talented.’

  What would Gabriel know about writing? The only thing he ever reads is the reviews about his own performances, and even then he only bothers with the good ones.

  ‘She’s just written a marvellous novel,’ he gushes, making sure that all attention is riveted on him. ‘It’s called Heart of the Highwayman. My agent has seen it and we’ve passed it to a team of screenwriters, who are desperate to make it into a film.’ Gabriel pulls me into his arms and drops a kiss at the corner of my mouth. ‘I’m taking the starring role. Congratulations, darling! You’ve made it!’

  A ripple of applause spreads around the hallway. I’m frozen with disbelief.

  How dare he?

  How dare Gabriel help himself to Jake and Millandra without asking me first? How dare he decide that he’s going to be Jake? He’s nothing like Jake. As if Jake would spend three hours in the hairdresser’s or employ a stylist. I don’t think so!

  This is my fault for leaving the notebooks on the coffee table. No wonder Seb was nosing around. He’s like a bloodhound when it comes to PR, and spins more than my washing machine.

  ‘Yes!’ Gabriel is laughing in response to a question. ‘Of course she’ll be paid. Very handsomely.’

  Plop. Plop. Hear the brown smelly stuff hit the fan. He’s talking to James.

  James turns to me. ‘That’s great news. You’ll have lots of money, Katy.’

  I open my mouth but there are no words. I ought to be over the moon, delighted, dizzy with success. But it’s all wrong. I feel like I’ve been bundled into a car and am being kidnapped. A glass of champagne is pressed into my hand and a throng of people are asking me how I feel and congratulating me.

  ‘Well done,’ James says softly, drifting past in a swirl of black robes. ‘At least someone likes that pathetic drivel. Doesn’t this solve all our problems?’

  I guess if it gets James off my back I can sacrifice Jake and Millandra to Gabriel’s ego. I might have wanted to write romantic novels, but maybe I can grit my teeth and tolerate a cheesy bodice-ripper, with Gabriel sauntering around in leggings.

  I look around for Ollie. There he is, by the door. I wish desperately that Gabriel didn’t have a possessive arm draped around me.

  ‘Are you thrilled?’ asks Angela Andrews.

  ‘Of course she is!’ says Gabriel. ‘It’s what you’ve dreamed of, isn’t it darling?’

  ‘Yes,’ I bleat. In my worst nightmares.

  ‘And we’ve got so much to look forward to.’ Gabriel is a tsunami and I’m totally flattened before his plans. I try to edge away towards the door but his hand holds my wrist like a vice. ‘My new series begins next week.’

  Angela Andrews looks less than riveted. ‘Will the rumours about your sexuality affect the reception that gets?’

  Gabriel throws back his head and laughs. I’m quite impressed, to be honest. I know that he’s wetting himself, but to all and sundry he just looks amused.

  ‘Not that old chestnut!’ He shakes his golden head and pulls me close. ‘I think that Katy
can vouch for the fact that it’s nothing more than gossip.’

  I try to cross my toes, fingers, legs, anything. I am so going to hell. ‘Absolutely!’

  Angela’s eyes narrow. ‘There’s no truth in any of the rumours?’

  I shoot a sideways glance at James, who raises an eyebrow.

  ‘Of course not!’ Gabriel sweeps me into his arms in true Mills and Boon style. ‘In fact, you can be the first to congratulate us. Katy has just done me the honour of agreeing to marry me. We’re getting engaged!’

  My mouth is hanging open now. You could drive the 207 bus in there and still have room for the rest of the depot.

  Gabriel’s lost the plot. And I am going to kill him.

  ‘Congratulations!’ People surge forward and my cheeks are kissed and my hand shaken. For a moment I’m dazed, then I’m so pissed off that I’m surprised I don’t explode.

  ‘Gabriel!’ I hiss, shoving him away. ‘Are you insane? How can we possibly be engaged? We’re breaking up on Monday, remember?’

  Gabriel tosses his golden mane, beaming toothily at a photographer. ‘Sorry, but I’m sure Angela Andrews is on to something. She’s been making peculiar comments all evening. I didn’t think you’d mind. We might have to postpone the break-up.’

  ‘Well I do mind. And there’s no way we’re carrying this farce on.’ I try to shake his arm off my shoulder. ‘Sod Monday. I’m ending this arrangement right now.’

  ‘You can’t!’ Gabriel snarls, dragging me into a corner and pinning me under his arm, so that it appears to all and sundry that we’re kissing. I can’t see Ollie but I can feel his gaze burning into my back. ‘You’ll make me look a fool.’

  ‘Do you know what?’ I shoot a glance at Frankie, standing alone at the foot of the stairs, his pale face a perfect study in despair. ‘I think you’re making a pretty good job of that yourself.’

  I crane my neck, and sure enough, Ollie’s watching this unfolding scene in disbelief. He mouths, ‘Congratulations, ’ before turning swiftly on his heel.

  ‘Frankie knows the score,’ says Gabriel. ‘And so do you. You agreed to this. One more weekend, you said.’

  ‘I never agreed to getting engaged. Get your hands off me!’ I try to shove his arm away but it’s clamped on to my shoulder like a vice. ‘Our agreement’s over.’

  ‘It bloody well isn’t.’ Gabriel’s fingers increase their grip. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

  Across the crowds in the hallway I watch Ollie’s head as it bobs towards the door. I can’t let him leave!

  ‘Let go of my arm!’ I raise my voice, but nobody can hear above the din of the Queens. ‘Get off me! I mean it, Gabriel. Our arrangement’s over.’

  ‘I’ve paid you until the end of the weekend,’ he snarls, ‘so do your job and smile; that’s OK! magazine’s photographer over there.’

  ‘Sod OK!. You can have every penny back. Get off me, Gabriel, I’m serious. I won’t let you do this to Frankie or to me any more.’ I twist and turn but I can’t shake him off; for such a pretty boy he’s got an amazingly strong grip. All those hours in the gym must have been good for something. ‘I want to be with Ollie. He loves me and I love him and no money you can throw at me will change that. I’m leaving with him.’

  ‘You’re not! Not now, with Angela Andrews watching. I won’t let you screw my career up just for some whim.’

  ‘Ollie’s not a whim!’ I’m yelling now. ‘I love him! I always have!’

  Teaching for seven years has given me a shout that could compete decibel for decibel with the Space Shuttle taking off. Heads swivel and suddenly we’re the subject of intense interest. Gabriel pales, but his grip doesn’t slacken. ‘I’m begging you, Katy. Just one more hour. Please!’

  Frankie pushes through the guests. ‘For God’s sake, Gabriel, have you gone mad? What are you doing to her?’

  Gabriel’s eyes are the cold blue of Glacier Mints. ‘She only wants to ruin everything by running off with your bloody cousin. She promised she’d give us this final weekend, and now she wants to go back on our agreement.’

  ‘If I don’t catch Ollie up he’ll leave thinking I’ve chosen Gabriel,’ I half sob to Frankie. ‘I can’t lose him again.’

  ‘Let her go to him, Gabe,’ says Frankie, trying to prise those pincer-like fingers from my bicep. ‘They’re meant for one another.’

  ‘She’ll ruin everything I’ve worked for,’ Gabriel spits. ‘I can’t risk it.’

  ‘Gabe, this isn’t about you any more,’ Frankie points out gently. ‘Not everything is, you know.’

  But Gabriel doesn’t look convinced.

  ‘Darlings!’ Jewell rushes over, hand on her heart and face pale. ‘Please don’t fight! This is supposed to be a happy occasion.’

  ‘Well it isn’t!’ I kick Gabriel on the shin and he winces because my tart boot has a very pointy toe. ‘I love Ollie, Gabriel. I can’t let him leave thinking I’m with you.’

  The idea is unbearable. Ollie is somewhere outside in the darkness thinking… well, whatever he’s thinking doesn’t bear contemplating. Suffice it to say that I don’t think I’ll come out of it looking much like Mother Teresa.

  More like a two-timing harpy.

  ‘I’ve got to sit down!’ gasps Jewell, staggering backwards and collapsing into a chair. ‘I must have had too many champagne cocktails.’

  ‘Let Katy go to Ollie,’ Frankie orders Gabriel. ‘You don’t need to pretend any more. You can be a single man again because I’m leaving you. All this deception’s turning you into a monster; you’re not the person I thought you were. It’s over.’

  Gabriel releases me so abruptly that I stumble and cannon into Jewell’s chair. Amazingly she appears to have fallen asleep right in the middle of all this kerfuffle, her chin resting on her chest and her feathers drooping. One knotted old hand hangs limply over the arm of the chair. A brindled terrier, one of Jewell’s many dogs, trots over and paws at her lap. Over and over and over he claws at her leg, desperate for attention, until her head tips forward and the feathered headdress slithers on to the floor. Jewell, normally vain, doesn’t even stir, not even with the cool air blowing against the thin tufts of hair on her scalp.

  ‘Auntie?’ I say, softly at first, and then a bit louder. ‘Auntie?’ I give her a little shake but there’s no response.

  The dog stops pawing Jewell and, abruptly throwing back its head, begins to howl; loud, heart-wrenching howls that rip through the champagne-fuelled chatter. It’s the most chilling and primeval sound, speaking of distances, wide-open spaces and utter, utter unbearable loneliness.

  Oh my God. What have Gabriel and I done?

  Guy, trained in first aid, firefighting and goodness knows what other health and safety stuff, is quickly at Jewell’s side. With a tenderness far removed from his usual brisk manner, he takes her frail wrist in his large hand and gently touches her neck. I don’t need to see the way he shakes his head to know what has happened.

  Ripples of mingled horror and morbid excitement spread around the room like a mill pond disturbed by a pebble. People gasp and murmur, and someone starts to wail.

  My knees turn to water. I couldn’t run after Ollie even if I tried. I’m frozen with disbelief and time seems to go into slow motion.

  My mouth’s so dry I can’t speak.

  Unfortunately James doesn’t feel the same. He pauses by my side and looks at poor Jewell. Then he murmurs into my ear, so quietly that only I can hear, ‘It looks as though your collateral has just gone seriously up.’

  I stand trembling in a room that feels emptier by the second and stare in disbelief at Jewell lying in Guy’s arms.

  Outside in the street a car door slams and an elderly engine splutters. It roars into life, loud and throaty at first before growing fainter and fainter.

  It’s over. Ollie’s driving away, into the distance and out of my life, because he thinks I’ve chosen Gabriel.

  Jewell’s house might be crowded, but I’ve never felt as alone in my life as I do right now.


  Chapter Twenty

  Normally I love autumn; it means snuggling up in front of huge fires, making vats of jam from hedgerow blackberries, new pencil cases for school and the relief of being able to hide my squidgy bits under baggy jumpers. I’ve always loved the smell of bonfires and the grey misty mornings and looked forward to stomping through heaps of russet leaves in my new winter boots. But not this year. It may only be early September but I can’t help but feel that everything is tinged with melancholy. From the drifting leaves and blue wood smoke to the ploughed fields it all just seems so sad, season of mist and mellow fruitfulness and all that gloomy stuff.

  It’s late morning in Tregowan and I’m sitting outside the rectory, my hands wrapped around a chunky mug, watching the village below me. The sun is a blood orange in the pewter sky, the air has a nip in it that wasn’t there before and the seagulls huddle together on the rooftops. It’s a dismal day, which is fine by me because I’m in a dismal mood.

  Jewell’s funeral takes place at two o’clock. I don’t think I could bear it if the weather was all sparkly and sunny — that wouldn’t be right when it feels like all the glitter and fizz has been sucked out of my life. I want to be like King Lear in his howling storm or like Catherine Earnshaw running into the rain and dying for love.

  I want the whole world to mourn.

  I take deep lungfuls of cold air and turn my face towards the pallid sun, watching clouds of my breath rise heavenwards. I wonder if they will eventually drift past Jewell. Will she recognise them if they do?

  How weird death is. How can somebody be there one moment and then gone the next? Where does that vital part of a person, the bit that makes you you, go to? I’m trying to be logical about this but I’m finding it increasingly difficult. I mean, who do I listen to? Richard would have me believe Jewell’s floating around with a harp somewhere, Mum’s convinced that she’s been reincarnated and Frankie says life is nothing but a simple chemical reaction. Who’s right? Is there really a pattern to it all? Is it like a tapestry and I’m just confused because I’m looking at the back, with all the tangled threads and knots, rather than the overall pattern?