by Lynne Shelby
‘Dancing on the bar! Scandalous!’
‘Foolish, considering that I’m a hopeless dancer and I was in a room full of girls who sing and dance for a living. I don’t know what got into me. Oh, yes I do. It was the vodka shots I did with the drummer from Feral and the lead guitarist from Silver Dollar.’
‘What are you like!’ Cassie said. ‘Do tell me more.’
‘Serena Davis was there,’ I said.
‘Who?’
‘The skinny actress with the big breasts who’s just joined the cast of Family Matters.’
‘Oh, her. Please tell me she’s not as gorgeous in the flesh as she is on TV, so I don’t have to hate her.’
‘She’s not that stunning in real life. But feel free to hate her anyway.’
‘You didn’t bond with Ms Davis?’
‘I did not,’ I said. ‘For one thing, however many times I told her my name, she kept calling me Lacy. And for the other thing, she was all over Daniel. She actually put her hand on his biceps and asked him how many times a week he worked out.’
‘What a slut,’ Cassie said. ‘I bet her breasts are fake.’
I laughed, although I had actually been outraged at the actress’s blatant interest in my boyfriend – and somewhat irritated that he hadn’t seemed to notice how put out I was.
Cassie checked her watch. ‘I’d better go in. I have an interview in ten minutes. A radio interview over the phone.’ She gathered up our empty plates and went indoors. Almost immediately, my own phone rang, and I answered it without looking at the caller ID.
‘Lucy? It’s Emily.’
My mind raced through several girls I knew called Emily, before settling on the one who’d lived in the same hall of residence as me at uni. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in months – not since I’d moved to London.
‘Hello, Em,’ I said. ‘How lovely to hear from you. I –’
‘I’ve just seen you and Daniel Miller in Goss online,’ Emily shrieked. ‘Are you dating him?’
My heart sank. Before he’d dropped me back at Cassie’s house earlier that morning, Daniel had reminded me that the photos of me and him at the Hedonists’ Ball might well result in my being contacted by the press – any competent journalist could get my name from the ball’s guest list. He’d also told me to be wary of calls from anyone I didn’t know well, and if I was at all suspicious as to why they’d suddenly got in contact, to refer them to the PR company who were handling the publicity for Fallen Angel. For an instant, I considered giving Emily the phone number. Then I recalled all the times we’d taken it in turn to make the coffee when we’d been studying late into the night or borrowed each other’s lecture notes.
‘Yes, I’m seeing him,’ I said.
There was more shrieking from Emily. Then she said, ‘Oh. My. Goodness. You’re dating the Fallen Angel. I can hardly believe it.’
‘Well, I am.’ I said, thinking that she needn’t have sounded quite so incredulous. Was it really so difficult to imagine that Lucy Ashford might be in a relationship with a ridiculously good-looking leading man?
‘How did you meet him?’ Emily asked.
‘I met him through my work,’ I said. ‘I’m a theatrical agent – he’s a client.’
‘Amazing,’ Emily said.
I wondered if she meant my job or my boyfriend. ‘What about you, Em? What are you up to these days? Are you still with Robert?’
‘Ooh, yes,’ Emily said. ‘We’re going travelling together…’
To my relief, once she started talking about her and her boyfriend Robert’s plans to back-pack round Australia, Emily stopped shrieking. For the next half hour, she and I had a satisfying conversation relaying the latest news about our mutual acquaintances (no-one else, as far as either of us knew, was dating a film star). By the time she rang off, I felt genuinely contrite that I’d allowed myself to think that her reasons for calling me might be anything worse than being completely starstruck over Daniel Miller.
My phone received a text from another university friend: Just seen pic of you and Daniel Miller on TV!!!! WTF!!!! LOL ;) xx. Several more texts, from other equally over-excited university and school friends followed.
I should, I supposed, have anticipated something like this. Most people who knew me before I started working in showbiz were naturally going to be surprised if they suddenly discovered that I was dating a celebrity. Including my family. Who never asked for details of my love life, but might feel somewhat aggrieved if they only found out that I was the Fallen Angel’s girlfriend when they turned on the six o’clock news. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? In a rising panic, knowing that I needed to give my relatives a heads up before photos of me and Daniel were plastered across every branch of the media, I snatched up my mobile and called my mother.
‘Hi, Mum,’ I said, when she picked up. ‘How are you?’
‘Lucy?’ my mother said. ‘Just a sec… Dylan, will you turn that music down, Lucy’s on the phone and I can’t hear a thing… Sorry, Lucy, your brother has developed a liking for heavy metal. I’m hoping it’s just a phase. Like the eating mud phase he went through when he was two. Now what were you saying?’
‘I asked how you were.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘And how’s Stephen?’
‘He’s in excellent health,’ my mother said. ‘As is Dylan. Although I am a little concerned about his taste in music. Is everything OK with you, Lucy?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m good,’ I said. ‘I’m actually phoning because, well, I wanted to talk to you about the guy I’m dating.’
‘Oh lord, you’re not ringing me for motherly advice, are you?’ my mother said. ‘Stephen’s so much better at that sort of thing than I am. Shall I pass him the phone?’
‘No, Mum,’ I laughed. ‘I just wanted to warn you that photos of me and my boyfriend have been posted on the internet, and there’s every chance that we may be in the tabloids.’
‘Why would you be in the papers, Lucy?’ my mother said. ‘Have you done something newsworthy?’
‘Not exactly,’ I said. ‘It’s just that the guy I’m seeing is famous. You know him.’
‘I don’t know anyone famous,’ my mother said.
‘I mean, you know of him,’ I said.
‘Who are you dating?’
‘Daniel Miller.’
‘Daniel Miller the actor?’
‘Yes’ I said. ‘That Daniel Miller.’
There was another long silence, and then my mother said, ‘Lucy, these photos of you and Daniel Miller, are they… X-rated? Are there videos?’
‘What?’ My face flooded with heat as I realised my mother thought I’d made a celebrity sex-tape. ‘Nooo, Mum, nothing like that. They’re photos of me and him at a party. I just thought I should let you know. In case one of your friends or someone at the garage saw them before you did.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Lucy,’ my mother said. ‘Now, tell me, is he good to you, this young man that you’re dating? I’m not interested in his fame. The important thing is, does he treat you right?’
‘He’s lovely, Mum.’
‘Is he faithful to you?’
‘Ye-es,’ I said. As far as I knew. ‘Yes, he is.’
‘Then I’m happy for you,’ my mother said. After a moment, she added, ‘Are Stephen and I going to meet him?’
‘It’s early days,’ I said, ‘but maybe in a while.’ Until then, I’d never thought about introducing Daniel to my family, but now I realised it was something I’d very much like to do. ‘I think you and Stephen would get on well with him. You’d certainly like his car…’ We chatted a while longer about Daniel’s Ferrari, before my mother remembered that she was due to meet a friend for coffee, and ended the call.
Immediately my phone pinged with the arrival of another over-excited text.
CHAPTER 19
‘My arms are aching,’ I said to Owen. ‘Would you like a turn at rowing?’
‘Sure,’ Owen said. ‘Wait. Don’t let
go of the oars.’
‘Oh – Sorry.’ One of the oars was still firmly grasped in my hand, but the other was now floating in the Serpentine. Owen reached over the side of our small, hired, blue-painted vessel and retrieved it. We swopped seats. Owen pulled on the oars, and the boat skimmed smoothly and swiftly to the centre of the lake. My own efforts had left us going round in circles close to the shore, and I’d only narrowly avoided a collision with a pedalo. Owen had voiced the hope that I wouldn’t get us banned from every boating lake in London for all time.
‘You’ve done this before,’ I said.
‘I was on my school’s rowing team,’ Owen said. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’
‘No, you forgot to mention that. Now I know why you were so keen to come to Hyde Park.’ I let my fingers trail in the water. ‘I’m glad you asked me to come with you, though. It’s lovely out here.’
‘My first choice for a Saturday afternoon’s entertainment would always be a West End matinée,’ Owen said, ‘but sometimes it’s good to do something different, I think.’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘I think exactly the same.’ I gazed out over the lake, raising a hand to shade my eyes against the sunlight reflected off the water. A refreshing breeze stirred my hair. A swan glided past the prow of the boat, and I watched it swim towards the tree-lined shore, where a number of young families were throwing bread to the ducks and other water birds.
Owen rested the oars, letting the boat drift. ‘I’ve seen a lot of photos of you and Dan in the press the last few weeks,’ he said. ‘You’re quite the celebrity couple.’
‘We’re a couple,’ I said. ‘He’s a celebrity. I am not.’
‘But you are being stalked by the paparazzi everywhere you go, right?’ Owen said. ‘There are probably at least ten of them hiding behind the boathouse at this very moment.’ He grinned. ‘Just a suggestion, but if you were to accidently fall overboard, the photos of my heroic rescue of the Fallen Angel’s girlfriend could be extremely advantageous for my career.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ I said, ‘but I only seem to attract the media’s attention when I’m with Daniel.’
I cast my mind back over the previous month. By now, Daniel and I had left enough nightclubs together in the early hours that the flash of a camera no longer startled me, and I’d become adept at getting out of a limo in a short skirt, but so far the media had shown no interest in recording my every waking moment for posterity. I was still able to do the Reardon Haye lunchtime sandwich run without bothering to touch up my make-up. Which suited me just fine.
Owen said, ‘You’re not having to sneak out of Dan’s flat in a hat and dark glasses?’
‘Not as yet,’ I said.
‘Fame can be so fickle.’
We smiled at each other. The more time I spent with Owen, I thought, the more I liked him.
‘I’ve really enjoyed this afternoon,’ I said.
‘Me too. It’s good that you and I can still meet up now that your boyfriend’s back from New York.’
‘Why wouldn’t we be able to meet up?’ I said.
‘I’d have thought the demands of dating an A-lister would be taking up all of your free time,’ Owen said. ‘Shouldn’t you be having your nails done right now?’
I laughed.
Owen said, ‘Seriously, Lucy, your friendship is important to me. I want you to know that.’
‘I do know that,’ I said, touching his hand briefly. ‘And I’m glad we’re friends.’
We fell silent. The boat rocked gently on the water. I tilted my face up to the sun.
‘Lucy… I…’
‘Mmm?’ I turned back to Owen. His gaze met mine and held it. His eyes, I noticed, were the exact same blue as the sky.
‘I… I need to get us back to dry land,’ Owen said. He bent over the oars and started rowing again, his strong, muscular arms sending the boat flying across the lake towards the shore.
It really had been a lovely afternoon, I thought, an hour or so later, as I let myself into Cassie’s house. Owen was such a nice guy. It was a shame he’d had to rush off to work (he was currently pulling pints in the same Camden bar where we’d seen Viper play) as soon as we’d returned our small craft to the boat keeper.
With both Cassie and Nadia away for the weekend (Cassie at Ryan’s, Nadia allegedly at Leo’s), the house was silent and still, and the sudden ringing of my phone made me start. I rummaged for it inside my bag, but by the time I’d found it, it had gone through to voice mail. It was a message from Daniel saying that shooting was running over, and not to expect him much before midnight, adding, ‘we can still make an appearance at the Silver Dollar party, babe.’
Midnight. I’d seen his call sheet. The estimated wrap time had been six p.m. Suddenly my pulse was racing. Would a star like Daniel Miller really be expected to work long extra hours on a Saturday night? Was he really still on set – or was he somewhere else? With someone other than me…
I took a deep breath, and told myself very firmly to get my head together. It was hardly unknown for a day’s filming to fail to finish on time. There were so many reasons why a scene might need another take. And not just on a feature film like Fallen Angel II. Cassie was late back from the TV studios at least once a week.
Deciding it was far too early to for me to start getting ready for the party to celebrate the launch of Silver Dollar’s latest single, I went into the kitchen, helped myself to a glass of white wine from an open bottle in the fridge, and went out into the garden. One of the glossy magazines that Nadia liked to read was lying abandoned on the grass. I picked it up, sat down on a sun-lounger, and started flicking through it while I drank my wine.
On the left-hand centre page, I found a rather good photo of me and Daniel taken at a restaurant opening we’d been to the previous weekend. We were standing in front of a velvet curtain holding hands, and the camera had caught us just as he was planting a kiss on the side of my face. The picture was captioned ‘The Girl who Tamed the Fallen Angel.’ On the opposite page were several column inches of journalese confirming that Daniel Miller was no longer single (Sorry, ladies, that’s another hot guy off the market), and in a steady relationship with theatrical agent Lucy Ashford (Our spies tell us that Daniel has been dating Lucy, 23, since the beginning of the year, and he is smitten. All of us here at Celeb think they make a cute pair).
I thought, I am the girl who tamed the Fallen Angel.
I wanted very badly to believe that it was true.
CHAPTER 20
Wearing one of Daniel’s T-shirts, I lounged on his sofa, idly flicking through the channels on his new, state-of-the-art TV. Daniel, looking impossibly handsome in a worn pair of jeans, his hair flopping over his forehead, was sitting at the breakfast bar, his attention all on his laptop.
Yesterday, after four months of filming under hot studio lights, he’d shot his final scene. Last night he’d taken me to the wrap party, where he’d been the centre of attention, with everyone, cast and crew, telling him he’d done an amazing job, and any number of women flirting with him – which had annoyed me until I remembered that it was me he was taking home. Today, Sunday, he’d woken up with no scenes to learn for the next day’s filming, no call sheet telling him he had to be in make-up by five thirty a.m, no rehearsals or costume fittings, no production assistant scurrying around to fulfil his every whim, and no private trailer. He would still be in demand for the normal celeb round of interviews, photos shoots, and publicity for the film but essentially he was out of a job.
Turning off the TV, I said, ‘You must be feeling a bit down.’
Daniel looked up from his computer screen. ‘No, I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I thought … Well, it’s great that the film is finished, but won’t you miss going to the studio each day?’
He shook his head. ‘Hardly. I’m glad to have a break from work.’
‘Really?’ This was not a sentiment that I could share or even understand. The thought of not having a job to go
to made me shudder.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Daniel said. ‘I’m not complaining, but filming twelve hours a day, six days a week isn’t a joy ride.’
‘Oh, I know that acting is both physically and emotionally draining,’ I said. This was something Owen and I had talked about many times.
Daniel gave me an odd look. ‘It’s just a job with long hours, Lucy. But it’s given me fame and a lot of money. What I want is some time off to enjoy it.’
I frowned, thinking of the number of casting directors calling Reardon Haye every day, all of them determined to secure Daniel as the star for their next project. The number of scripts piling up in the office for him to read. And he wanted to take some time off? The last time I’d taken a day off from work had been six months ago at Christmas.
Then I thought, all work and no play…
‘Maybe we could both take a holiday,’ I said. ‘A short holiday. Go and lie in the sun by a swimming pool, read, drink wine…’
Daniel looked thoughtful. ‘I’d like to go on holiday with you, babe. But before I do anything this summer, I want to find myself somewhere else to live.’
‘You want to sell this flat?’
‘As soon as I can. I bought it after my first film, before I was earning big money. I can afford a place a lot more spacious now.’
I felt a pang of regret. Daniel’s flat was compact (OK, by film star standards, it was tiny) but it was here that we’d spent our first night together.
Telling myself that it was ridiculous to be sentimental about bricks and mortar, I said, ‘I take it you want to stay living in London?’
‘Hell, yes. I’d never leave London. Well, not unless I was moving to LA to work in Hollywood.’ He gestured towards his laptop. ‘Come and have a look at this.’
I went and sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, and Daniel angled his laptop so that I could see the screen. I found myself looking at the website of an up-market estate agent. A slideshow of a large townhouse showed me a succession of white-painted rooms with wooden floors, bedrooms with walk-in wardrobes, opulent bathrooms, and a courtyard garden overflowing with tubs of flowers and shrubs.
