A Seaside Affair (29 page)

‘Whaddya think?’ She took on a rock-star stance: hand on one hip, other hand pointing to the ceiling and flicking a V sign.

He did some serious nodding, inwardly laughing at all the bollocks surrounding Red’s lifestyle. ‘Babe, you’re every inch a star.’

‘Ya, you bet she iz, Actor Boy. Too goot for you.’

Red giggled. ‘Oh, Hen, you are so naughty.’

‘Iz true! No von iz goot enough for you, Red.’

She swatted away the hair designer, who was fiddling with the back of her head. ‘Yeah, well, see you all later. And clear up this shit’ – she pointed at the piles of cosmetics and clothes – ‘before I get back.’

*

The evening went better than Ollie had expected. As soon as Red had determined that Brooke and Jess were no threat to her, she dropped the attitude and became quite chatty. She loved Elsie and Ethel and they, much to Jess’s annoyance, wouldn’t leave Red alone. She kept them all amused with stories of life on the road and Ollie found himself relaxing and enjoying her company again. The old Red was still in there. Somewhere.

She didn’t go so far as helping collect up the plates after the pizzas were eaten, instead she went into the sitting room and played with the dogs while the others tidied and washed up. This left Brooke free to whisper that Louis wasn’t able to get over that night after all.

‘Probably better this way,’ whispered Jess back. ‘It could have got a bit too much with two superstars in a confined space.’

*

Instead of heading straight back to Trevay, Ollie drove the MG Midget, with the top down and Red by his side, along a short narrow diversion to the sea. Once he’d killed the engine the two of them sat listening to the sound of the breakers rolling onto the sand. Red snuggled into Ollie’s shoulder.

‘This is nice. Can we paddle?’

‘Sure.’

The clouds were gently pushing their way over a waxing moon, which was doing its best to reflect its silver path on the ocean.

Standing with the cool sand between their toes, Ollie and Red held each other as if for the first time.

‘This is really nice,’ Red said again.

S
omeone was banging on Ollie’s bedroom door. Red was still sleeping next to him. He checked his phone: 8.15. Hurriedly he swung his feet out of bed and pulled on a luxurious dressing gown supplied by the hotel.

‘I’m coming. Shh,’ he said as quietly as he could. Outside in the corridor stood an impatient Henrik. He barged past Ollie and walked straight to the bed, where he stood over Red’s sleeping form.

‘Vake up! Vake up!’ He clapped his bony hands by her ear.

Ollie walked to him and pulled him away from the bed. ‘Leave her alone. She’s tired.’

‘Don’t touch me, Actor Boy,’ Henrik snarled at him. ‘You are not in charge of her.’ He once again stepped towards the bed and started shaking Red awake. ‘Get up, you bitch, ve haf to be in London.’

Ollie saw red. ‘Don’t speak to my girlfriend like that.’

Henrik turned to face Ollie with his hands on his hips. ‘Girlfriend? Your girlfriend? I don’t sink zo. She is a little whore who needs to get up for verk.’ He turned back to Red and now started slapping her awake.

Ollie grabbed the ghastly man and spun him round while bringing his arm up behind Henrik’s shoulder blade and twisting it as hard as he dared.

‘Ow! Get off me! You’re hurting my arm!’ squealed Henrik.

Ollie did not let go until he’d marched Henrik out of the room and slammed the door in his face. Red was trying to sit up in bed.

‘What the fuck’s going on?’

Ollie told her. Red rubbed her sleepy eyes as she listened and then got out of bed and went to the bathroom without saying a word. She turned the shower on.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Ollie.

‘Getting ready.’

‘For what?’

‘I have to go to London. There’s a big meeting with the record company. They want me to write the next album.’

‘But you’re in the middle of a world tour.’ Ollie was confused. ‘You’ve been on the road for almost a year. You need a holiday.’

There was no response. He watched as she soaped herself behind the glass door of the shower. She had never carried much flesh on her bones, but now he could see her ribs and hips, the vertebrae sticking out along her spine.

He closed the loo seat and sat down, waiting for her to come out. He thought back to last night and how desperately she had clung to him as they made love in the dunes. She had needed affection rather than passion from him. The scary rock star had reverted to a needy little girl. Ollie was no idiot. He understood that something had shifted in their relationship last night. She had moved on and away from him as a lover, but a deeper understanding had been conceived. Friendship?

She got out of the shower and shivered. He stood and wrapped a huge warm bath sheet round her and hugged her to him. Her bones pressed uncomfortably into his body. Without her make-up, her skin was spotty and drab. Her eyes, once so clear and lively, were yellow-tinged and dull.

Ollie was worried for her. ‘Henrik called you a whore and a bitch.’

‘Yeah. He does that.’

‘And you let him?’

‘He’s my PA. He has to make sure I get everywhere on time.’

‘By calling you names?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She started to clean her teeth. Her face in the mirror looked defeated.

‘Red, what’s happened? Last night you were like your old self. Jess and Brooke really loved you. This morning you’re a different person.’

She spat into the sink. ‘I’m on duty. That’s all.’

There was another knock at the door. ‘If that’s Henrik, I’m not letting him in,’ said Ollie as he marched off to open it.

It was Bango the hair designer, clutching something in his tattooed hand. ‘Is Red in ’ere?’ he asked in a Cockney accent.

‘Yes, I am,’ called Red from the bathroom. ‘Have you got my stuff?’

‘Yeah.’

Red appeared, still wrapped in her towel, and held out her hand to Bango. He passed her something that Ollie could only guess at before leaving the room.

Ollie sat on the bed and asked wearily, ‘What has he given you?’

‘Nothing.’ She went back into the bathroom.

Ollie could hear her drinking from the tap. ‘What have you just taken?’

She came out again, shrugged off her towel and started looking for her clothes. ‘Don’t freak out. It’s just a little something to get me going.’

‘Drugs.’

‘Nothing bad. Everybody has a little helper. It’s nothing.’

‘You were always so dead against drugs. What about your fans? What if you get caught?’

She pulled on her leather jeans and turned to him in a fury. ‘Fuck off, Ollie! Just fuck off. I’m not a junkie. The record company make sure I have all the good stuff. Their doctors wouldn’t give it to me otherwise, would they?’

‘The record company knows about this?’

She stared at him insolently. ‘Duh! Of course they do. As soon as I’ve got the new album down, they’ve said I can take a year off and I won’t need it any more.’

Ollie couldn’t take in what he was hearing. Whatever Bango had given her, it was working very quickly. She was getting agitated and frustrated, struggling with the simple task of slipping her feet into her trainers.

‘Let me help you with those.’

She threw them at him. ‘God, you are such a loser!’ She found her phone and keyed in a number. ‘Hey, Henrik. I’m done. Get me out of here.’

Henrik was there within the minute.

‘Call me later?’ Ollie asked.

She looked at him bleakly through dilated pupils, vulnerable in her bare feet. ‘Nah. I don’t think so.’

Henrik passed her a huge pair of glasses, which she put on. ‘Zere’s plenty paps out zere. The record company do zere job vell.’

Red nodded acceptingly.

Ollie picked up her discarded trainers and passed them to her as she and Henrik walked to the door. ‘You know where I am if you need me,’ he told her.

*

Jonathan gestured to Jess to join him as they drank their coffees in the mid-afternoon break. ‘What’s wrong with Ollie?’

Jess followed his line of sight to where Ollie was sitting on his own, staring into space.

‘Red had to go back to London this morning.’

‘So he’s lovesick?’

Jess shifted her weight slightly more towards Jonathan and said, ‘Confidentially, I think they’ve split up.’

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. ‘Again? Rock stars tend not to have stable personal lives and Ollie seems like a person who’d prefer a stable relationship.’

‘He’s young. He’ll survive.’ Jess took a sip of her coffee. ‘Brooke and I will keep an eye on him.’

Jonathan turned his gaze towards Brooke. ‘And what about our gorgeous starlet? She’s had a bumpy ride in her short time in the business.’

Jess filled Jonathan in on the Café Au Lait episode. ‘I admire her. She’s taken a lot of shit, kept her head down and worked hard.’

‘Hmm. She’s certainly got talent,’ Jonathan agreed. He lowered his voice, ‘Tell me, is it true about the royal boyfriend?’

Jess looked at him in alarm. ‘What?’

‘Ah. So it is true then.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Jess was blushing.

Jonathan laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I am very discreet. No one down here knows anything, but I have friends in London who know him and let the cat out of the bag a few days ago.’

Jess turned pleading eyes towards him. ‘Please don’t let her know you know.’

‘I’ll say nothing, but tell me one thing …’ He looked around to make sure no one could hear him. ‘Is he coming to the first night?’

Jess could answer this truthfully. ‘I have no idea, and neither does Brooke.’

‘Good. We could do without any distractions. Now,’ he sat back and spoke in a normal voice. ‘How are you and Ryan? Is he coming down for opening night?’

‘I hope so. He’s really busy, but I know he’ll do his best.’

‘I hope so, Jess. You deserve the best.’

Something about the way Jonathan was looking at her unnerved Jess.

‘When is the wedding?’

Relieved to be back on safer ground, Jess replied, ‘Actually, you may be able to help me with that. Are we rehearsing on Saturday?’

Jonathan sighed. ‘I’m thinking you’d like the weekend off?’

She nodded.

‘Ryan is a lucky man. I just hope he realises it.’ Jonathan appeared to be weighing something up. ‘You know what, we could all do with two days off. I’ll break the good news to everyone in a minute.’

‘Oh, that’s fantastic! Thank you.’ Jess kissed his cheek, but failed to notice the blush that crept up his face as she did so. ‘I shall go home on Friday night and surprise Ryan. He’s on a short stopover from LA to do some dubbing in a voice studio, then he goes back on Monday. He won’t be expecting to see me. I intend to nail him down to a date, a church and an invitation list. I rather fancy a Christmas wedding. What do you think?’

‘Very romantic.’

‘What about you, do you have a partner?’ Jess asked. He had never mentioned one.

‘No.’

‘How liberating,’ she said, with what she hoped was a dash of
joie de vivre
.

‘So some would say.’

Jess stopped smiling. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy.’

‘No apology needed.’ He touched her shoulder fondly. ‘I travel hopefully, so don’t worry about me. Now shall we get on with this last scene?’ He stood up and called the room back to work.

*

The Friday night train from Penzance to Paddington was full. Jess got on at Bodmin Parkway and was grateful that she’d reserved a seat in first class. At Plymouth a large group of uniformed Royal Marines boarded. With very few seats left, they found themselves places in spaces between carriages and enlivened the quiet of the train with military banter. One of them recognised Jess as he walked through her carriage to the loo.

‘You’re off the telly!’

Jess was embarrassed but polite. ‘Yes.’

‘Thought so. I’m Whitey.’ He held out his hand. She shook it.

‘Jess Tate. How do you do.’

‘Would you mind saying hello to some of my mates?’

Jess looked around apologetically to her fellow passengers, who by and large ignored her. ‘Not at all.’

Over the next ten minutes she was introduced to several of the men from 42 Commando based in Plymouth. ‘This is Smudge, Bomber, Techy, Spesh and Matron – don’t ask why: it’s a bit rude.’

Jess shook hands with all of them. ‘Where are you going?’

‘A bit of a do at the Admiralty. Some of the lads here did rather well in Afghanistan.’

Jess was thrilled. ‘Can I ask what?’

‘Not really.’

The man sitting opposite Jess, who had hitherto behaved as if he could neither hear nor see any of these brave fighting men, put his newspaper down and said, ‘Can I buy you chaps a drink?’

‘That would be very nice. Soft drinks only though, sir. We don’t drink in uniform.’

From then on a party atmosphere pervaded the carriage and when the ticket collector came through he knew not to ask if any of them had first-class tickets.

At Paddington, Jess was escorted off the train by Whitey and the lads and placed in a black cab with smart salutes. Her spirits were running high and she couldn’t wait to see Ryan and tell him all about her journey.

Arriving at their Willesden flat she let herself in quietly. It was almost midnight and she could see a soft light coming from under the living room door. Lying in the hallway was Ryan’s suitcase, its contents carelessly spilling out across the corridor.

Jess tiptoed in, leaving the flat in darkness rather than alert him to her presence. She couldn’t wait to surprise him. In the kitchen she silently undressed and, on a whim, pulled open a kitchen drawer which housed tea towels and a chef’s hat Ryan had given her for Christmas last year. Across the front, ‘Kiss My Baubles’ was spelled out in red sequins. She put it on.

As she trod stealthily towards their living room door, it opened and a stunning woman in a short satin dressing gown walked out. Behind her, Jess could see Ryan lying on the sofa with a glass of whisky in his hand.

The woman screamed long and loud, her red lipsticked mouth forming an enormous O. Ryan leapt from the sofa wearing – even in her shock Jess was grateful to see – a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.