by Lynne Shelby
Daniel stood up. ‘I’m going to head off. I’ve a brunch meeting, and I really can’t be late.’
For a moment I couldn’t think where he was going that was so very important. Then I remembered that he was having brunch with an American producer who was only in London for the weekend. Whether or not the semi-social meeting led to work now or at some future date, he still needed to make a good impression. I followed him out into the hall.
‘Will I see you later?’ I said
‘Yeah. We’ll go out tonight, and sleep at mine.’
‘I’d rather stay in,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to leave Cassie on her own. I know she’s a lot more together than she was yesterday, but she still seems very down.’
Daniel raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s an adult, Lucy. You don’t have to babysit her.’
‘I just feel she could do with a bit of support right now.’
‘She’s got Nadia with her. And Owen.’
‘She hardly knows Owen, and Nadia only ever thinks about herself.’ Suddenly, for the first time in months, I found myself thinking of the previous summer, when I’d discovered that Lawrence was married. There had been days when I’d felt so wretched that I could barely drag myself out of bed. Then Cassie had turned up on the doorstep…
I said, ‘Cassie was there for me when I needed a friend. I owe her, Daniel.’
‘OK, babe, we’ll sleep here tonight.’ He pulled me to him and kissed me very thoroughly. ‘To be continued,’ he said, with a leer.
‘I’m counting on it.’ I shooed him out of the front door. Back in the living room, Cassie had taken my place by the window.
‘There’s no-one out there, Cassie,’ I said. ‘No film crews, no paparazzi.’
‘There will be,’ Cassie said. ‘They’ll come for me. It’s only a matter of time.’ A tear ran down her face. ‘I can’t face them again, I really can’t.’
‘You don’t have to,’ I said. ‘There’s no reason for you to leave the house before your car picks you up to take you to the studio tomorrow morning.’
‘There’s no way I’m going in tomorrow.’
‘You’re not going in to work?’ I said. ‘Why not? You’ve only got another week.’
‘Exactly,’ Cassie said. ‘For the last ten years I haven’t missed a day on Snowdrop. I’ve never rocked up late or rung in sick. I’ve always known my lines and hit my mark. And now the production company is firing me.’
‘They’re not firing you.’ I said.
‘They’re ruining my life,’ Cassie said. ‘So I’ve decided that they can shoot the final episode of Princess Snowdrop without me.’
‘How can they do that?’ I said. ‘You’re the star.’
‘Oh, they can always use a double or… it’s really not my problem. I need to take some time for myself.’ Cassie turned back to the window. She didn’t make a sound, but I was fairly sure that she was crying.
I might have told her to pull herself together and stop acting like a diva, if I hadn’t remembered how it felt to know that your life is in ruins, and you’ll never ever be happy again. At least I hadn’t had my worst moments posted on the internet. It occurred to me that if Cassie had a family like mine, she’d be with them now, and they’d let her stay as long as she liked, without asking questions (well, not that many), and give her some space to get her head together.
‘Cassie,’ I said, ‘how would you feel about getting out of London for a while?’
‘That’s actually a rather good idea,’ Nadia said. ‘Why don’t I book us into a spa hotel? Somewhere discreet with good security.’
Us? I don’t think so, Nadia. To Cassie, I said, ‘I was thinking you might like to spend a few days at my mother’s place. The paparazzi wouldn’t find you there.’ And if they did, I’m pretty sure my mother would send them packing.
Cassie turned around. Her face was wet with tears.
‘That would be wonderful,’ she said. ‘If Stephen and Laura wouldn’t mind my descending on them. But it might not be convenient.’
‘Of course they won’t mind,’ I said. ‘They’ll be delighted.’ I thought for a moment. ‘I’ll come with you. It’s far too long since I’ve seen my family. If I can get the time off work, I’ll stay a couple of days. If not, I’ll come back here tonight.’ A few days in the non-celebrity and (relatively) rational atmosphere of my mother’s house would give Cassie a chance to get her head straight and me a chance to talk to her about Ryan.
‘What about Daniel?’ Cassie said. ‘Shouldn’t you check if he’s made plans for next week before you leave him on his own?’
‘I’m sure he can cope without me for a few days,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to worry you, Cassie, but I think we should leave as soon as we can. If you want to avoid the press.’
‘I’ll go and pack. Nadia, will you phone for a car? Oh…’ Cassie had started to look a little less miserable, but now her face fell. ‘I can’t go anywhere. If I’m hiding from the paparazzi, I can’t have some random driver knowing where I am. Everyone has their price.’
‘Well, you certainly can’t travel by train,’ Nadia said. ‘You’d be recognised. You’d probably get mobbed.’
I thought, how can it be this hard to transport one woman forty miles up the M1?
Owen, who’d taken no part in the conversation until then said, ‘I’ll drive you, if you like.’
‘You don’t have a car,’ I said.
‘No, but I can ask Michael if I can borrow his.’
‘Michael has a car now?’
‘Yep. He has a serious relationship, a mortgage and a car. I suspect he’s trying to make me feel inadequate.’
‘Do you think he’d let me drive his car?’ I said.
No,’ Owen said. ‘Not a chance.’
‘Are you talking about the journalist?’ Cassie said.
‘What journalist?’ Nadia said.
‘We’re talking about my friend Michael,’ Owen said.
‘You have a friend who is a journalist?’ Nadia said. ‘Is he paying you to get him access to Cassie?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Owen said.
‘Is he planning to sell a story about Cassie Clarke to one of the nationals?’ Nadia went on.
‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,’ Owen said.
‘Pot. Kettle,’ I muttered.
Nadia started to say something, but evidently thought better of it and subsided into silence.
Cassie said, ‘Sorry, Lucy, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, ‘I was just thinking aloud.’
‘What would you like me to do, Cassie?’ Owen said. ‘Shall I give Mike a call or not?’
Cassie glanced from Owen to Nadia in an agony of indecision, her need to get out of London vying with her innate fear of anyone connected with the press.
‘Phone him,’ she said. ‘That time I met him, he seemed like a nice guy – even if he is a journalist.’
CHAPTER 29
‘That’s my mother’s house,’ I said. ‘A bit further. There – just beyond the post box. You can park on the drive.’
Owen brought Michael’s Fiesta smoothly to a halt, next to my mother’s Peugeot and Stephen’s Nissan.
Cassie, who’d slept for most of the journey, opened her eyes and said, ‘Oh, we’re here.’
‘Yes, Cassie, we’re here,’ I said. Finally.
Even after Owen had taken a cab to Michael’s, picked up the car and driven back to Cassie’s, it had taken us another hour to get on the road, most of which was time I’d spent on the phone. Firstly, I’d called my mother to warn her to expect us, saying only that Cassie needed to lie low for a few days, and I’d explain why when we arrived. Then I’d phoned Eleanor, interrupting a family outing to the Natural History Museum, and as she was too busy looking at dinosaurs to trawl the internet, gave her an abbreviated account of our disastrous girls’ night out. She was all for my taking some time away from the office to act as Cassie’s minder, reminding me that wh
en I’d first started at Reardon Haye, she’d told me that sometimes we had to hold our clients’ hands.
‘I’ll tell the Snowdrop people that Cassie is unavailable next week and they’ll have to re-schedule,’ Eleanor had said, ‘but she will have to film that final episode in time for it to go out on air.’ Rather more confident of my ability to persuade Cassie to get back in front of the camera than I was myself, she’d added, ‘I’m sure you can make her see that. It’s understandable that she’s upset, but the show must go on.’
I’d also phoned Erin the housekeeper to tell her that she didn’t need to come into work while Cassie was away from home. This would have been a task for Nadia, but Cassie had told her to take the week off too. Then I’d tried to call Daniel to let him know I was going to my mother’s. He was presumably still in his meeting, as his phone went straight to voice mail, so I left him a message. I’d tried to reach him again once we were out of London and heading up the motorway, and I’d texted him. And I’d called him half an hour later, but still got no reply
While Cassie went and knocked on the front door, and Owen lifted her massive case and my small one out of the boot of the car, I tried Daniel’s number again, and once again got his voice mail. Realising that I was acting exactly like the sort of clingy girlfriend that no man would want to live with, I ended the call without leaving a message this time, and got out of the car. The front door opened to reveal my mother, with Stephen and Dylan close behind her. A wonderful smell of cooking drifted along the hall from the kitchen.
‘Laura! Stephen! It’s so good to see you.’ Cassie flung her arms around them. They both looked rather startled, but Cassie didn’t notice.
Stephen was the first to recover. ‘We’re glad to have you here, sweetheart,’ he said, hugging her back.
‘You know you’re always welcome in this house,’ my mother said. She smiled at me. ‘Hello, Lucy.’
‘Hi,’ Dylan said.
‘Hi,’ I said. Briefly, I wondered if I should break with years of family tradition and demonstrate how pleased I was to see my parents and brother with hugs and air-kisses. I decided against it.
My mother turned to Owen. ‘Hi, I’m Laura Ashford.’
‘I’m Owen Somers.’
‘Stephen Harrington,’ Stephen said.
‘Dyl,’ Dylan said.
‘Well, come in all of you,’ my mother said.
‘Where shall I put the cases?’ Owen asked.
‘Oh, just leave them by the door.’
Cassie and Owen followed my mother along the hall to the kitchen. Stephen put his hand on my arm.
‘Cassie looks terrible,’ he said in a low voice. ‘What’s wrong with her? You said something to Laura about needing to get her away from London?’
I thought, how can he not know? Hasn’t he read the tweets? I reminded myself that not everyone found it necessary to follow whatever was trending on the internet.
‘Cassie’s TV show got cancelled,’ I said, ‘and that sent her to a really bad place. She broke off her engagement, which I know is a huge mistake even if she won’t admit it. And she’s being hounded by the media. She’s a mess. She needs some time out to clear her head.’
‘Then we’ll see that she gets it,’ Stephen said firmly. ‘You were right to bring her here. I’m sure a few days away from the limelight will give her some perspective.’
‘I hope so.’
In the kitchen we found Cassie and Owen already seated at the table, and my mother making a salad to go with the chilli con carne simmering on the hob, while Dylan dropped tea bags into mugs and filled the kettle. I slid onto a chair next to Owen. Stephen stood next to my mother and helped himself to pieces of chopped tomato when she wasn’t looking.
‘So, Lucy,’ my mother said, ‘you and Cassie are lying low for a few days? Should Stephen and I be worried?’
‘Only if you see a photographer with a telephoto lens lurking in the bushes,’ I said. ‘The press have been giving Cassie a hard time. This seemed a good place to come to avoid them.’
Cassie said, ‘I – my private life – is headline news at the moment. But I’d rather not talk about any of it.’
My mother nodded sagely, as though celebrities took refuge from the media in her house on a regular basis. I saw her glance slide to Cassie’s left hand, but she made no comment.
‘What about you Owen?’ she said. ‘Are you also in hiding?’
‘No, not me,’ Owen said, smiling. ‘I’m just the guy with the car. Well, the guy with the friend with the car.’
‘The getaway car,’ Dylan said.
My mother shot him a withering glance. ‘You’re still very welcome to stay,’ she said to Owen.
‘Thanks,’ Owen said, ‘but I should get back to London. I’ve an audition tomorrow.’
‘Oh! Your audition!’ Cassie said. ‘I was supposed to go through the script with you.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve gone through it myself so many times, I’ll be over-rehearsed if I practise it anymore.’
‘But you will at least stay for a late lunch?’ my mother asked.
‘Thank you.’ Owen grinned. ‘I was hoping you’d invite me to eat. It smells splendid.’
‘I used to come here for Sunday lunch when I was a child,’ Cassie said to Owen. ‘One time, Dylan made me sit at the table for a whole hour after we’d all finished so he could paint my portrait. He can’t have been more than seven. Do you remember that painting, Dyl?’
‘I don’t, sorry. Was it any good?’
‘It was brilliant. I kept it for years. I wish I knew what happened to it.’
‘He probably only did it to get out of doing the washing-up,’ I said.
‘Ignore my sister.’ Dylan studied Cassie’s face. ‘I’d really like to paint your portrait again, Cassie. Maybe I could do some preliminary sketches over the next few days while you’re staying with us? I promise you won’t have to sit still for more than... three hours at the most.’
‘I’d be very happy to sit for you,’ Cassie said. ‘But I get to keep the painting.’
‘Fair enough,’ Dylan said.
‘You’re an artist?’ Owen said to Dylan.
‘Art student,’ Dylan said. ‘Well, from next month. When I start at art college.’
‘I’d love to see some of your work,’ Owen said.
‘Well, there are a couple of pieces I’m quite pleased with in my Dad’s studio. If you’d really like to see them. If there’s time before lunch.’
As there was still a good half hour before lunch would be ready, Dylan, Stephen and Owen all trooped off upstairs to Stephen’s light-filled studio at the top of the house. Knowing that my mother never tired of looking at Stephen and Dylan’s paintings, I offered to finish making the salad and put the rice on, so that she could go too.
‘If you’re going to sit for Dylan, you need to insist on the occasional break,’ I said to Cassie, once we were alone. ‘When he’s drawing or painting he loses any sense of time. He’d forget to eat or sleep if someone didn’t remind him.’
To my dismay, Cassie gave a little sob. ‘What have I done?’ she said.
‘Don’t upset yourself,’ I said, quickly. ‘You don’t have to sit for Dyl. I’ll tell him you’re not up to it.’
‘But I want to sit for Dyl. It’s the only thing I’ve got to look forward to.’ A single tear ran down Cassie’s pale face and dripped off her chin.
Spotting a box of tissues on the worktop, I passed it to her. She wiped her eyes and noisily blew her nose.
‘You won’t want to hear this, Cassie,’ I said, ‘but the cancellation of a TV show does not mean the end of civilisation as we know it. I get that you’re upset, I really do –’
‘I don’t care about the frickin’ show,’ Cassie said. ‘No, that’s not true. I do care, but I’m not distraught about it like I was yesterday. It’s Ryan…’
‘Ryan…?’ I prompted.
‘I love him,’ Cassie said, ‘and I’ve lost him. I made the w
orst mistake of my life when I sent him away.’
Cassie has just admitted that she was wrong to break up with Ryan, I thought. Because it would have been a little insensitive when she was so obviously wretched, I managed not to punch the air.
‘You know you made a mistake, so put it right. Call him.’
‘What can I possibly say to him?’ Cassie said. ‘I hurt him terribly. I can’t just phone him and tell him to forget it.’
‘Tell him you love him. Tell him that you were so traumatised by the show being cancelled that you didn’t know what you were doing or saying.’
‘That’s not what happened. Ryan and I – It wasn’t the same after we got engaged.’ Cassie paused to gather her thoughts. ‘When Ryan came back from Spain, I knew that I was in love with him, but it never occurred to me to wonder if we’d be together in ten or twenty years’ time. I certainly never thought about marrying him. Or anybody else for that matter. I’ve never seen the point of marriage. I mean, Laura and Stephen aren’t married, and they’ve been together longer than any couple I know.’
‘So why did you say ‘yes’ when Ryan asked you?’
‘You were there, Lucy. You saw how he sprang it on me. He didn’t give me a chance to think.’
‘But you seemed so happy that night. We had champagne.’
‘I just went with the flow,’ Cassie said. ‘I knew Ryan was fed up with hiding our relationship from the press. I didn’t want to lose my job because it came out that Princess Snowdrop was shagging a footballer. A ring on my finger solved a lot of problems. Then suddenly we’re this celebrity couple. With a centre-page spread of photos in every tabloid. And interviews in Celeb and Goss.’
‘The Nation’s Sweethearts.’
Cassie grimaced. ‘It was all so false. I was engaged to a guy who’d only asked me to marry him because of my image. Our wedding would be nothing more than a publicity stunt.’
‘Did you say any of this to Ryan?’
‘No, I should have, but I didn’t. Our relationship had gone so wrong, and I didn’t know how to put it right. It was such a farce, that I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to put it right. Then Eleanor turned up out of the blue and announced that Snowdrop was cancelled. That was devastating, but at the same time, it gave me a way out.’ Cassie raised stricken eyes to my face. ‘How can I have done that to Ryan? How can I have been so cruel?’
