Among a Thousand Stars

by Jo Bartlett

  ‘I think your Aunt Hilary must have taken it when she was visiting. I remember her having one of those instant camera thingies, but it’s too late to ask her of course.’ His mother sighed. Aunt Hilary had died the year before, so any chance of finding out more had died with her.

  ‘Do you ever remember him holding me like that? Looking at me like that?’ Tom still couldn’t get his head around it.

  ‘No, but I always knew he loved you in his own way. That’s what everything was about. He wanted to provide the big house for us, give us financial security. He just couldn’t give us what we really needed; you know - affection, fun, his time, that sort of thing.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘But maybe this memory box shows that deep down he wanted to, but just didn’t know how. I know one thing though, I’ve never felt as fond of him as I do right now.’

  ‘What else is in here?’ Tom finally set the photograph to one side and started to shift the papers, each new item in the memory box surprising him more.

  ‘There’s copies of your school reports, a postcard you sent us from a school trip and he must have kept the certificate you won in that spelling bee. There’s a cutting from the paper when you raised all that money with the scouts and there’s even one of your baby teeth in there.’

  ‘I really don’t know what to say. If he did love me, he had a very strange way of showing it.’ It was incredible that the man who’d kept his son at arm’s length, right up until his death, had secretly been proud of him. ‘Are you sure these aren’t things Aunt Hilary kept?’

  ‘Positive. The box was with all the other things cleared out of his office and stored up there after he died. I thought we might need to look at some of it when we sold the business, but we never did, and it’s been sitting up there gathering dust ever since,’ Isobel paused. ‘Anyway, I thought you should have it, in case it helped you to see things…differently.’

  Tom said nothing. A box of keepsakes couldn’t undo thirty-five years of feeling the way he had. He wouldn’t put it past his mother to have put the box together herself, if she thought it would help him to change his outlook. Although she couldn’t have faked the photograph, that was something else.

  ‘Well I’ll let you think it over and what it might mean.’ Isobel smiled and shut the lid, pushing it to one side of the desk and revealing the proofs of the Chloe Nicholas shoot. ‘Goodness, these are stunning.’

  ‘They are, aren’t they?’ Tom seized the chance to change the subject.

  ‘Who took them? They look much classier than the normal photos in Glitz.’

  ‘Thanks a lot!’ Tom laughed, although he secretly agreed. ‘The photographer was Ashleigh Hayes.’

  ‘He’s a genius, he’s captured something of that girl that I bet even she didn’t know she had.’ Isobel scrutinised the photographs. ‘Fabulous styling too.’

  ‘I’m glad you approve, but that was down to Stevie.’ His mother had always loved fashion and was still immaculately turned-out, even when she was only walking Bertie. ‘They’re a good team, Ashleigh and Stevie, but Ashleigh’s a she not a he.’ As soon as he’d said it, he realised he’d given her an opportunity to get started on her favourite subject.

  ‘Is she pretty?’ Isobel might be ill, but she didn’t miss a trick.

  ‘Very, but she’s a lesbian.’ The words were out of his mouth before his brain even registered what he was doing. Still it had worked well enough in putting his mother off her stroke when she’d got excited over the photos of him with Selly Medley.

  ‘Oh, not another one.’ She looked a little crestfallen. ‘What about Stevie? I’d have plenty to talk about with a stylist over Sunday lunches.’

  ‘Unfortunately, Stevie’s a man and, despite what you’ve read on Google, he’s not my type.’ Tom laughed again, it was like a game of chess discussing his love life with his mother and that had to be double checkmate. ‘But despite not being fodder for your matchmaking, I agree that they’ve pulled a genius stroke here. You can tell they’ve been together years.’

  ‘Gosh, I’m getting confused now. So Ashleigh’s bi-sexual. How interesting, that might keep you on your toes!’

  ‘Mum! Where do you come up with these things?’ Was there any line she wouldn’t cross to see him paired up?

  ‘Oh Tom, don’t act so shocked. Your generation think they invented sexual experimentation. Well, they didn’t!’

  ‘Enough, I can’t listen to any more.’ Tom held up a hand. There were some things you should never discuss with your mother. ‘Anyway, just to clarify, she’s not.’

  ‘What bisexual or a lesbian?’ Isobel fixed him with a steely stare. ‘You better not be lying to me Thomas, just to shut me up.’

  ‘Okay, okay, you’ve got me, but there are only so many times we can have the same conversation.’

  ‘I’m not expecting you to get married and produce an instant grandchild, so you can take that look off your face, but I would like to see you have some fun.’ As she spoke, she stood up and moved round to his side of the desk, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘And handsome and irresistible as your old mum believes you to be, not every girl out there is desperate to marry you.’

  ‘Maybe if you stopped trying to marry me off to every girl I get photographed with, or brush past on the tube, I wouldn’t have become such a paranoid ego-maniac.’ He caught another glimpse of the proofs as he spoke. Ashleigh had captured something unique about Chloe; she had a real gift. Maybe his mother was right, it was time to take his head out of his arse and have some fun.

  Chapter Ten

  Four weeks after Chloe’s photo-shoot, at the end of November, the issue of Glitz carrying her interview had hit the shops and Ashleigh was in Tom’s office, about to find out how the change of theme for the shoot had really gone down.

  ‘Can’t the two of you ever just do what you’re asked?’ Tom stood with his back to her, a note of exasperation in his voice.

  ‘I think they work.’ Ashleigh was on the defensive. It was a chain reaction; get treated like a truculent teenager and you start to act like one.

  ‘Luckily for you they do, circulation’s up 120 per cent, but it would have been nice to be consulted.’ Tom turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers briefly. Her stomach did a weird sort of dip, like when you go over a humped-back bridge too fast. ‘Where is your partner in crime anyway?’

  ‘Looking at some wedding dresses by a new designer in Camden.’ Ashleigh watched an unreadable expression cross Tom’s face.

  ‘Anything I should know about?’ He seemed to visibly relax all of a sudden. ‘Mavericks that you are, I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to read in the papers that Stevie’s helped Ryan Murray come out as a transvestite and styled him in a vintage wedding dress just to make the point.’ They both laughed. Ryan Murray was a reality TV star. A walking, talking, wall of testosterone and there’d never been a wedding dress made that could take the strain of stretching across his sixty inch chest.

  ‘I don’t think even Stevie would go that far.’ She crossed her fingers underneath the desk so that Tom couldn’t see.

  ‘Mmm,’ Raising an eyebrow, he looked doubtful. ‘In that case, would you like to have lunch?’

  ‘What me? Here?’ She couldn’t have been more shocked if Ryan Murray had turned out to be a wedding-gown wearing cross-dresser. Tom had his nice head on again. Good job he wasn’t always like this; that would be dangerous.

  ‘Yes, you. But, no, not here.’ Tom was struggling to suppress a grin. ‘How about Grant’s?’

  She nodded, still shocked at the invitation, when she’d expected a lecture about sticking to the brief. Grant’s was a wine bar around the corner from Rushworth Associates. It had a laid back atmosphere, didn’t try too hard to be trendy and the Spanish chef created tapas to die for. And, what’s more, Tom was taking her there for lunch.

  ****

  Ashleigh disappeared into the cloakroom of th
e restaurant as soon as they arrived, muttering something about the November weather playing havoc with her hair and telling him to go ahead without her.

  Tom had no problem getting a table, even without a booking. Making a living from sorting out celebrities’ lives had its downsides, but it opened a lot of doors too. He ordered a bottle of red wine and waited. The restaurant clientele were almost all trying to get noticed, one way or another. The women were well dressed in the main, although there were more than enough who were willing to wear a lot less to stand out from the crowd.

  Ashleigh walked across the restaurant towards him; her red silk dress and knee-high boots were elegant and understated. Funny how tantalising a knee could be, when you were surrounded on all sides by women literally spilling out of their clothes. She was looking down at her feet, as though she wasn’t worthy of making eye contact with the other diners. There was something incredibly sexy about her complete lack of ego. He was definitely up for having some fun, but there was no way of knowing if she was too. There was only one way to find out.

  ****

  ‘So, how have you been?’ Ashleigh fidgeted in her seat, a large glass of red wine taking the edge off the nerves that always seemed to come from sharing a space with Tom.

  ‘What, apart from having a stylist and photographer who can’t seem to follow simple instructions?’ He was smiling though. ‘I’m fine. To be honest, for the most part it’s a relief. Susie-Anne isn’t the most relaxing of people to be around.’

  ‘Really?’ Ashleigh feigned surprise. ‘And there was me thinking she was low maintenance.’

  ‘Talking of relationships. How’s it going with Zac?’ Tom kept his tone light, but there was an almost indistinguishable tightening of his jaw.

  ‘It isn’t.’ Suddenly it was really important that he knew there was nothing going on. ‘It never was. Of course I’m excited to be shooting his album cover and we’ve met up once or twice to discuss his ideas, but that’s it. We’re not…’

  ‘Having sex?’ He cut in. The thought clearly bothered him, although she couldn’t understand why. Maybe he thought she’d be bad for Zac’s image.

  ‘I was going to say compatible.’ Ashleigh grinned and tore off a hunk of bread. ‘I don’t think I’m really his type.’

  ‘Somehow I doubt that.’ Tom’s voice was warm and, if it had been anyone else, she might have read something into the way he was looking at her. ‘Has Zac even got a type? I don’t recall any of his fiancées bearing a striking resemblance to one another. Although if he goes on much longer, he’s bound to go full-circle eventually. Did it disappoint you?’ He topped up their wine glasses. ‘That you weren’t his type, I mean?’

  ‘No. Although given the fact that most women in my age bracket seem to have been engaged to Zac, perhaps I should be offended!’ She raked a hand through her hair. Now wasn’t the time to mention how Zac’s hands always seemed to wander when they met up. Given the slightest inclination of interest, she could quite easily become Zac’s type, for one night at least.

  ‘I think you might challenge him too much. Conversation hasn’t been top of his agenda in the past.’ Tom didn’t miss a beat; he must have known what she was thinking. After all, Susie-Anne wasn’t exactly a noted raconteur.

  They fell silent while the waiter laid the tapas out in front of them. The ambience of Grant’s, and the warmth of the red wine, was starting to work its magic. She was less scared she might say the wrong thing and cause Tom to give her one of his infamous looks. He had an aura of power and there was no denying it was sexy, but, when he also had the power to decide whether or not you could make your mortgage payments, it was pretty scary too.

  ‘Sorry!’ She laughed awkwardly as their hands brushed reaching for the same plate of prawns. If it had happened before the wine, she’d have snatched her hand away and flushed to match the Spanish tomatoes on her plate.

  ‘I’m not.’ He laid his hand over hers and she didn’t move away. They’d already kissed for heaven’s sake; that ought to count for something. So why did she feel so much like a teenager on her first date?

  ‘Is this a good idea?’ Ashleigh spoke quietly, afraid of how he might respond. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his lips, suddenly wanting to relive that kiss more than anything.

  ‘I don’t know, but I don’t care either. We’re both adults and I need to be honest with you.’ He waited until she made eye contact. ‘If you’re going into this thinking it might be love, then I have to tell you that I don’t believe in all that. I like you and I’m really attracted to you, but I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I just have a feeling we could have some really good times together.’

  ‘Right.’ Ashleigh paused for a moment, not sure what to say. ‘Well I’m pretty crap at relationships anyway, so perhaps a no strings approach is the best all round?’ It was a daring thing for her. This wasn’t like anything she’d ever done before, but with her track record she had nothing to lose and it was a long time since she’d had that kind of fun.

  The food had completely lost its appeal and Ashleigh was relieved when Tom signalled to the waiter. ‘In that case, would you mind if I got the bill?’

  Within minutes they were outside the restaurant and Tom had hailed a taxi, giving the driver his home address. As they tumbled into the back seat, his mobile started to ring and he switched it off without even looking at it.

  ‘It might be important.’ She bit her lip again, the Dutch courage had dissipated and those first date nerves were back with a vengeance.

  ‘Nothing’s that important.’ He moved towards her, taking her face in his hands. ‘This isn’t something I do all the time. I’m not Zac.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ She murmured until their lips finally met, their urgency and intensity apparent in the kiss. She was oblivious to everyone else in the world, including the cab driver sitting only a few feet away.

  ****

  Funny how finding half the world’s press camped on your doorstep could immediately cool things off. Pulling up outside his double-fronted town house, the huge wrought iron gates seemed to have grown human creepers, climbing to look into the garden and clinging to the metal work like ivy.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, what is it now?’ Tom spotted the press pack, seconds before they spotted him. Dread prickled his scalp. What the hell were they all here for? He pulled out his mobile and listened to the urgent message from Francine, as photographers, journalists and camera crews began to surge like a tidal wave towards the taxi.

  ‘Tom, Tom.’ A young redhead in faded jeans, clutching a digital recorder hammered on the window. ‘How are you feeling about Susie-Anne and Michael, now that there’s a baby on the way?’ Tom didn’t respond. Even if he had it would have been drowned out by the shouts of the paparazzi, as they fought to get the scoop on his response to the news. His former fiancée getting knocked-up by a premiership footballer, barely a month after their split, would be front-page fodder.

  ‘Just drive, before they swallow us up. We’ll worry about where later. If we don’t get out of here now, we never will.’ Tom shouted to the cabbie, who performed wheel spins that an experienced getaway driver would have been proud of.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour!’ Francine’s irritation was palpable by the time Tom and Ashleigh finally made it back to his office. It was quite an art form, her ability to ostensibly ignore Ashleigh, while at the same time looking at her with obvious animosity.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Tom’s voice was flat. Ashleigh knew they couldn’t complain about press intrusion given his line of work. It was a side effect of his success that he’d become as newsworthy as his clients; but she’d bet right now he wished they’d all just sod off. She certainly did.

  ‘I suppose you know now about Susie-Anne’s… announcement on day-time TV?’ Francine’s mouth twisted, as though she found the whole
idea of pregnancy distasteful, but her tone softened as she looked at Tom. ‘The little fool confided in Ritchie Waters on Morning Sunrise. According to her latest Twitter posts, Michael’s delighted with the news.’

  ‘Great for them then.’ Tom’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Ashleigh and a frisson of doubt gripped her; perhaps he still had feelings for Susie-Anne after all.

  ‘You heard how she did it?’ Francine’s nose wrinkled. ‘She took a pregnancy test out of her bag on live TV and brandished it in Ritchie’s face.’ Francine, who looked as though she would happily ban bodily functions all together, shuddered with disgust. ‘I mean, she’d been to the toilet on that stick, can you imagine anything so awful? I certainly can’t!’

  Ashleigh said nothing, fighting the temptation to ask if Francine ever watched the evening news. If a bit of wee was the worst thing she could imagine, then she’d led a charmed life.

  ‘So she’d only just found out?’ Tom sighed. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Let’s face it, Susie-Anne has always been gloriously indiscreet.’

  ‘Apparently she did the test in the studio toilets just before going on air.’ Francine was grimacing again, yet still managed to shoot Ashleigh a filthy look. ‘I think we should prepare a press release Tom, don’t you? I’ve cleared your diary for the rest of the day so once…’ she pretended to struggle with Ashleigh’s name and then deliberately got it wrong, ‘…er, Ashleen, finishes her meeting with you we can get to work.’

  ‘Look, I think I should go.’ Ashleigh half-hoped Tom would stop her. She wanted to reach out to him, but Francine was there – more than ready to be his sole support.

  ‘You’re right. You should go now and let us get on. I’m sure whatever you were meeting about can wait.’ Francine’s tone was clipped and she placed a hand firmly on Ashleigh’s back, propelling her towards the door and away from Tom as quickly as possible.