Celebrity Bride (12 page)

'You'll get used to it, honestly, don't worry,' says Elody. 'You get to the stage when you worry if the papers
don't
follow you everywhere. I miss the mad press attention that Jon and I used to get; God it was exciting.'

I look over at her strangely but she doesn't notice. She's far too busy wandering through my dressing room and tossing aside some of my favourite items of clothing with gay abandon. She thinks I need lots of new clothes ('need' you notice, not 'want' – in this new life of mine, designer clothes are needed, not wanted!). In the process she's unburdening me of 'old' stuff. (I thought it was new stuff until she got going, now I realise that anything that's been on the catwalks is deemed to be already 'old'. What we're after, I've just learnt, is the designer collections that are fresh off the sewing machines and unseen by anyone but the sharpest fashionistas in the world.) I'm lying on the chaise longue trying not to think about the stuff she's rejecting. I get quite attached to things; I'm one of life's hoarders. I don't like this throwing-things-away business.

More than anything, though, I'm thinking about Rufus.

'Why is Olivia going on this trip?' I ask Elody. 'I don't understand why she's going.'

'She's an assistant,' says Elody. 'Not sure what she'll be assisting with, but that's her title.'

'But Rufus already has an assistant. Christine's gone out there with him.'

'Different sort of assistant entirely, sweetheart,' says Elody vaguely, and I realise just how much I don't know about Rufus's life away from me. As soon as he calls, I'll ask him exactly who's out there and what they're doing.

'Did the photographers get pictures of you earlier?' she asks, as she examines the buttons on my cream blouse.

'No, I don't think so. I didn't get out of the car at the pub.'

'Thank the Lord,' she replies with obvious relief, before adding, rather uncharitably, 'you're a few pounds over fighting weight. We could do with keeping them at arm's length until you've shifted a bit of excess baggage.'

'Thanks a lot,' I say. 'I don't know why they're interested in me anyway. I'm not the film star; he is. I'm just Kelly from Twickenham who met this guy and fell in love with him. What's so bloody interesting about that? I'm exactly the same person I was six months ago, and no one wanted pictures of me then.'

'D'er,' says Elody, dropping the shirt and walking over to me. 'That's exactly why they want pictures of you – because you're a normal girl who's going out with a big star; you're living the dream. You're hot stuff right now. Designers are going to want to dress you, stylists will want to advise you, TV producers will want you on their shows and – yes – photographers will want pictures of you. Everyone likes the new big thing and that's you.'

'Oh,' I say, remaining as baffled as ever about the whole thing. I know the papers are interested in me because I've had about twenty-five interviews requested through Rufus's agents. They want me to do everything from photo shoots to lunch with the editor. I can't think of anything worse, so I just say no. I appreciate that makes them want me all the more, and that's why the house has a cluster of photographers permanently at the gate, but nothing will make me pose in lingerie for men's magazine or have lunch with a journalist who wants to know all about Rufus's home life. I'll keep ignoring them in the hope that they get bored and go away. I'm just not that interesting . . .

'When will they give up?' I ask.

'Never,' she replies.

'But they can't sit outside the house forever.'

'Oh, they can,' she says. 'And they will.'

'Shit. It makes life so hard. I still feel awful about missing Mandy's party. I must phone the girls and apologise,' I say.

'I thought you sent them a text?'

'I did. I told them I'll be there for the birthday lunch we've arranged.'

'Oh, well let it go then. Call them later; you don't want them to worry about you. Let them enjoy their party.'

'Yeah, OK,' I say, because Elody's right. No point in spoiling their fun.

'Try this on.' Elody is clearly tired of trying to find nice things in my wardrobe and has turned, in the manner of a
Blue Peter
presenter, to some she prepared earlier. The garment she's giving me is a black sheath dress. It looks simple and elegant but, if I'm honest, it doesn't feel that different from the sort of thing that I'd pick up in Dorothy Perkins for £15. The only thing with this dress is that it has a price tag of £1500 on it.

'Shit!!!' I exclaim on seeing the ludicrous cost of the thing.

'I didn't pay; don't worry,' she says.

'I know but, my God, who'd pay that for a plain black dress?'

'Lots of people, my dear,' she says. 'Don't look so surprised. Rufus will want you to have the best. You're moving into a new world now. The better dressed you are and the more sophisticated and polished you look, the quicker you'll ease your way into it. Let's find the diva in you.'

'Oh, OK,' I mumble unassertively. I fear I'm the most un-diva-ish
person in the world but I really don't want to upset this important, sophisticated,
glamorous but ever so slightly mad stylist. I'm loving having someone coming
round at the drop of a hat. When I told her the photographs had prevented
me from going to Mandy's party, she came straight over, she's really a sweet
person. I am also truly grateful for all the new clothes she's adding into
the wardrobe. I'm loving learning from her and developing myself . . . making
myself a better person. Imagine what Mum and Dad will say when they see me?

I slip into the black dress and Elody pulls a slight face as she runs her hands over my curves. 'Shame you're quite so curvy,' she says. 'Dresses just don't look good on lumps and bumps. Mmmm . . . I'll have to think about that. We need to disguise a little. Now, what else is in here?'

The phone rings as she rummages through my wardrobe and I reach over to take it. 'Leave it,' says Elody, but it's too late, I've picked up the mobile and Jan James is chatting away into my ear.

'Hi. I was just calling to see how you are. I know Rufus left today, didn't he? Are you all right?' she asks.

'I'm fine,' I say, thrilled that she's taken the trouble to call. With all the stuff about Rock in the paper recently, anyone could have forgiven her for not even remembering that Rufus was going away.

'Look – I won't keep you. I just wondered whether you fancied coming round tomorrow night for a few drinks: a girlie champagne evening.'

'I'd love to,' I say. I feel a renewed confidence about these sorts of things now that I'm friends with Elody. A champagne evening with someone as famous as Rock James's wife would have terrified me just a week ago. I wouldn't have had a clue what to wear, but knowing that Elody will sort all that out for me has given me renewed hope. 'Thanks very much for inviting me.'

Jan tells me to be at her place for around 9 pm. 'You'll meet Zadine at the drinks party,' she promises. 'She's just lovely. You'll adore her.'

'Zadine? As in Joe Collins' girlfriend?'

'Yes, do you know her?'

'No,' I admit. But I feel as if I've known her intimately for years. She's the one who's on every reality TV show; she's the most unbelievable woman – a walking, talking Barbie doll. I feel myself overcome with desire to call Mandy and Sophie and tell them that I'm going to be meeting Zadine.

'Who was that?' asks Elody with unnecessary aggression when I put down the phone.

'Jan,' I say, feeling almost guilty for talking to another woman. Elody has a strangely possessive streak in her.

'What did she want?'

Oh Lord. Why do I feel like I'm in trouble?

'Just to invite me for drinks at hers tomorrow.'

'Oh,' says Elody. 'What time?'

'She said around 9 pm.'

'I'll come here for 9.30 pm, then we'll go,' says Elody. 'Best not to arrive on time, very unsophisticated.'

I don't like to say that it sounded like a very informal get-together or that I'm not entirely sure whether Elody's invited. I'm sure she knows best. 'Good idea,' I say.

'Let's work out what you should wear then, shall we?' says Elody taking my phone off me, switching it off and dropping it into her pocket. 'I'll book you some beauty treatments tomorrow so you're looking your best.'

'It's only going to be women there,' I say. 'I think it's just a casual evening, no pressure.'

'
Exactly
,' says Elody, her palms lifted to the ceiling imploringly. 'That's why looking good is so important. They're trying to catch you out, sartorially. It's a good job I'm here. Now, do you have any wine?'

Rufus has more wine than the average off-licence. He has a cellar, no less, as well as a fabulous wine rack in the kitchen, made out of slate.

'Sure,' I say, leaving the room to get her a drink. I wouldn't mind a glass myself, to be honest.

'Sancerre OK?' I ask, returning with two glasses that Pamela suggested would be just right. I know nothing about wine at all.

'Lovely,' Elody says, taking one of them and enjoying a large gulp. 'Now . . . clothes for tomorrow,' she says, before rooting through my wardrobe again, though she must know exactly what's in there by now. She pulls out a few items then pushes them back in again.

'I'll bring something for you to wear,' she says. 'There's nothing in there that's suitable.'

We walk down to the sitting room and sit opposite one another on the beautiful cream sofas.

'Tell me a bit about Jon,' I say.

'He was perfect. We were perfect,' she says. 'When he died, everything died. I died. I felt guilty. I hated life. I felt it was all my fault.'

'I don't see how it could be your fault. You didn't make him take drugs.'

'No, but I didn't stop him either.'

With that, she throws her wine down her throat and stands up dramatically. 'Elody is going,' she says in a way that could easily sound pompous, but I now recognise as being a persona that she uses to wrap around the pain.

'Ooooo . . . Do you have my phone?' I ask, running after her. 'You took it off me earlier.'

'Yes,' she says, handing me the phone from her bag with a big smile. 'Here it is.' I notice that the phone is back on again, but I was sure she switched it off.

I am ready for the drinks party; resplendent in the finest red dress that money can buy. The long scarlet gown falls to the floor making me look statuesque and regal. My face glows so much with all the lotions, potions and oils that have been rubbed into it and plastered onto it that I fear I might spontaneously combust. Blimey. I never knew so many beauty treatments existed and all delivered to me in the comfort of my own home. I called Rufus from one treatment and was explaining what they were doing to me. He was in hysterics and told me to make sure I enjoyed myself and that he missed me desperately and couldn't wait to see me again. It's funny, but when I speak to him I feel totally relaxed and happy; it's only when Elody talks about what he might be up to that I start to panic. I even asked him why he needed so many assistants with him.

'Because this is Hollywood, babes,' he said with resignation. 'And they seem to think that your talent is somehow reflected in the size of your entourage. It's nonsense. I miss you, Kelly. I miss you more than I've ever missed anyone or anything in my life before.' He's employing that deep, resonant voice that he normally reserves for the screen and bedtime. I tell him all about my day and he's delighted that I'm getting on so well with Elody. 'I'm glad,' he says, 'but do be careful, she can be quite the dragon sometimes.'

'But her heart's in the right place,' I insist, because I genuinely do believe that. 'I think she's a good person underneath it all, and she's spent a lot of time with me.'

'I've always liked Elody. You should get to know Isabella as well though,' he says. 'She's wonderful.'

It's 9.45 pm by the time Elody makes her appearance, and I'm starting to feel a bit awkward about this 'turn up there late' theory of hers. If someone invites you to drinks at 9 pm, surely you turn up at 9 pm.

'You are delightful,' says Elody, when I express my concerns. 'But so naïve.'

Elody has arrived with her huge bag of tricks. 'But I don't need it today,' I say confidently. 'Look, I'm wearing the dress you brought round.' I twirl so she can see the full extent of the transformation. It's pathetic how desperate I am for her approval.

'You know,' she says with a smile. 'You're right. You've learnt well. You look beautiful. Let's go.'

As we sit in the car, I can't help but think about how weird all this is. My real friends haven't called at all, and Elody is being so friendly that it's verging on overbearing. I wish I could have got hold of the girls today.

'Elody, I feel so bad about not talking to Mandy and Sophie, but every time I call, I just go through to an answerphone. I don't seem to be able to actually speak to them,' I say.

'Have they not called you?' she asks, incredulous. 'You'd think they'd be worried after you didn't turn up for the birthday drinks. I think they should call you. It's not up to you to call them; don't they know how busy you are?'

I know Elody can be a bit prickly but there's a considerable amount of truth in what she says. If it had been me, and Mandy hadn't turned up for my thirtieth birthday drinks, I like to think I'd have been worried enough to call and check she was OK. I glance at my phone but there are definitely no missed calls. No one since Jan rang to invite me to the party yesterday. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.

We walk into the James family home, and as soon as Jan answers the door I realise this is all wrong. She takes in my ultra-glamorous appearance and super sexy designer gown and smiles. 'You've been somewhere else first?' she asks. She's wearing jeans and a white shirt. Designer jeans, of course, and the shirt looks like it was made from angels' wings, but she's not wearing a dress that would be better suited to the red carpet, nor does she have the crown jewels hanging from her ear lobes. God I feel a fool. 'I think I'm a little overdressed,' I say, rather unnecessarily, but Jan's not paying too much attention. She's rather distracted by the sight of Elody in the doorway.

'Oh, it's you,' she says, her words twisted with bitterness. 'What made you think you were invited?'

'I'm sorry,' I say, interrupting. 'She came with me. I didn't realise it would be a problem.'

'Of course not,' says Jan through gritted teeth.

'Look . . . Elody's come too. How nice,' says Jan, addressing the collection of people gathered in the sitting room. Elody blows an air-kiss out to the guests and the air seems to freeze as she does so.

'I'm sorry we're so late,' I say as Elody glides into the James's sitting room, whispering, 'Stop apologising, Kelly,' as she passes me. She instructs some poor minion to bring her the very best champagne which, judging by the sour look on her face, angers Jan even more. I'm torn between feeling embarrassed about Elody's domineering nature and incredibly impressed at how confident she is when she's clearly not welcome here at all.

'Meet Zadine,' says Jan, taking my arm and directing me gently towards a small blonde woman with quite alarmingly large breasts (and I speak as one who knows about these things).

Oooohhhh . . . I've always wanted to meet Zadine.

The lady herself steps forward and puts out a small, slim hand. She has sparkling blue eyes, honey-coloured hair streaming across the smallest shoulders and bandages around her head.

'Did you hurt yourself?' I ask, feeling dreadfully sorry for this tiny birdlike creature whom Sophie, Mandy and I have been mocking since time began. 'Was it a car crash?'

She smiles and her entire face lights up. She's nothing like I thought she'd be. She's like a little girl, smiling sweetly and explaining that she had 'some work done'. Jan takes me aside later and, along with Isabella, explains that no one has ever seen Zadine in the flesh without bandages of some sort on.

'It's an addiction,' says Isabella, giving me a big hug when she realises how concerned I look. 'She's the most adorable creature but desperately insecure. When she's not on television on some sort of terrible game show, she's booking up with Edward to have operations to help her look better in time for the next terrible game show. In between all this, she works tirelessly in the hope of impressing her husband who's six years younger than she, and is rumoured to be sleeping with every young model, male and female, in the business.'

'Why does he keep operating on her if it's a mental problem?' I ask, adding quickly: 'Sorry if that sounds rude.'

'No, don't worry. The truth is that it's difficult to turn her away when you know she'll go somewhere else and get it done. Edward did refuse to operate on one occasion and she went abroad. They made a real mess of liposuction and Edward had to do two follow-up operations to get her right again. After that, we thought we'd be better off looking after her ourselves. At least that way we know she's as safe as possible.'

I don't think I've ever felt sorrier for anyone in my life than I feel for Zadine right now.

'Anyway, how are you?' Isabella asks. 'Are you coping OK without Rufus? I called a few times this morning but couldn't get hold of you. I just wondered if you fancied going for a coffee, or having lunch some time?'

'I'd love to,' I say. 'Are you around tomorrow? We could meet up for coffee in the afternoon?'

'That would be great,' says Isabella. 'I'll mention it to Jan, shall I?'

'Yes do,' I say, delighted.

'What's the gossip?' Elody appears and stands unnecessarily close. She has a habit of doing that with me, but after seeing the sadness in her eyes when she told me about Jon and how she feels responsible for his death, I guess I can understand why she likes to keep her friends close by her side.

She's clutching the bottle of Cristal champagne, and tips it to fill my glass to the top, then refills her own. 'This is what life's about,' she is saying in a slurred and affected voice. 'It's all about the quality of the drink. Cheers!'

As she chatters on in her friendly but increasingly drunk fashion, I can't help but be reminded of our motto in the flat: 'It's not the quality of the drink that counts, but the quality of the friendship.' How different this world is from the one I've left behind.

I wish the girls were here right now – we'd have such a scream. You know, even though we've got up to some stupid things together over the years, and are always on the edge of trouble and the edge of bankruptcy, I still feel more embarrassed about Elody's behaviour tonight than I ever have of anything either of my mates has done . . . and that includes pouring red wine all over Luke's head, or climbing out of the toilet window on that double blind date because neither of them could face the guys they were with.

I excuse myself and head off into a corner of the white-walled room where I pull out my phone. Still no missed calls. I don't understand.

'Don't call them,' says Elody, appearing at my side. I should have known she'd follow me; she seems quite determined that I shouldn't be ringing them. 'Leave it for tonight; they're probably out anyway. We'll make a plan tomorrow if you're worried.'

And the thing is, even though she's starting to get on my nerves now, with the way she's always telling me what to do (or 'helping' as she would call it), and the way I seem to have become her special little project, I still put the phone away. She's so extraordinarily persuasive. She also has this aura around her that leads you to assume she's always right.

I smile my way through most of the evening in Zadine's tender company. The woman's so sweet; the hours slip by.

'Can I get you a drink?' she asks, with a smile. 'What sort of wine would you like?'

'Um . . . white?' I suggest.

'French?' she says. 'Or there are some lovely New World wines.'

'Um . . . whatever you're having,' I respond.

'Sure,' she says. She disappears off and comes back with a gin and tonic. Shit, I hate gin. I wish I knew something about wine. I must get Rufus to teach me. I always let him order the wines and I have no idea what we've been drinking.

Zadine and I chat in whispers, so that Elody doesn't hear from her position by the mirror where she's simultaneously checking her hair and quaffing large quantities of Cristal. Elody looks beautiful tonight. She's dressed in black, as always, wearing a ballerina-style dress over leggings and with the highest shoes I've ever seen in my life before. Zadine's dressed all in pink. She looks like a little marshmallow. Her tiny frame is swamped by a pale-pink sweatshirt, and pink denim hot pants worn with cowboy boots.

I tell her about Mandy and Sophie, and how I fear that I let them down. 'They're my best friends in the whole world and we swore that when I moved out and moved into Rufus's house we'd stay the closest of friends but that hasn't happened. It's all been so much harder than I thought it would be, and I just haven't seen them and I can't ring them while they're at work and I can't get through to them on the home phone. I feel awful. Seeing you has really brought back how much fun we used to have together in that flat because we'd always watch the reality programmes that you were in. We always voted for you, you know.'

'Did you?' she asks, and the thing is – we did!

'Then let me call them!' she says. 'I'll tell them that you're really sorry and you love them and can't wait to see them. It'll be funnier if I do it; it'll take the edge off things and save you having to make an embarrassing call. Go on; let me.'

'That would be so cool,' I exclaim. I don't tell Zadine that we mock her relentlessly in the flat and have had more fun at her expense than we've even had at the expense of the worst boyfriends we've encountered.

'Shit. Answerphone!' she declares. 'I'll leave a message, shall I? What are the girls called again? Oh shit . . . Hang on. I'm through . . . Hi, this is Zadine Collins,' she says, her voice rising to the girly squeal her TV fans have come to associate with her. 'Just wanted to say that I'm here drinking with your beautiful friend. We have the finest champagne in the world and she looks gorgeous. Bet you wish you were here!'

She puts down the phone and gives me a little hug. I try to picture the girls in the flat on this cold night, wrapped in duvets on the sofa because they can't afford to keep the heating on and drinking tea in front of the TV. They'll pick up that message and laugh their socks off, squealing with delight. I can't wait to see them. I have so much to tell them about.

'We should go,' says Elody, appearing at my side. It seems we've only been there five minutes. 'We have some fabulous parties to go to tonight . . . We can't hang around.'

'Oh.' Do we? I thought this was the only place we were going.

'Yep, come on. I'm introducing you to everyone who's glamorous and important in London tonight. Let's go.'

We kiss everyone goodnight and Zadine says, 'I hope your friends like my message,' with such kindness that I could hug her. 'Come to mine next Friday night. Everyone welcome!' she declares. She glances at Elody and glances away. Elody's clearly not welcome but I know in advance that that won't stop her.