by Caragh Bell
He barged past her, Ella by his side and walked to the nearest main street. A black cab screeched to a halt and they got in.
‘Bloomsbury,’ he said, helping her into the back seat. He kissed her cheek. ‘You’re going to be fine. Just leave it to me.’
His flat was dark and cold when they arrived. He strode straight over to the heating and cursed. ‘I fixed this the other day,’ he said in annoyance. ‘I timed it to come on at six.’
Ella stood there, unsure of what to do. He had deposited her bag on the floor and was now twiddling the heating thermostat.
‘Finally!’ he said triumphantly. ‘It should work now. I want hot water so that you can have a bath.’
She walked over to the sitting-room area. It was sparsely decorated with a painting on the wall, a couch and a flat-screen TV. A bookshelf in the corner gave the room some character but it was essentially a bachelor pad: functional and minimalist.
‘I only have one bedroom so you can have it.’ He pointed to a door on the right. ‘I’ll take the couch for the moment until we sort things out.’
‘Oh no, Will,’ she protested. ‘I can’t take your bed.’
‘Don’t even argue,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll just run you a bath and then you can relax.’ He set to work, taking towels from the airing cupboard and a robe from his room.
She took off her red coat and hung it on the hook by the front door. The heating began to work and soon the flat was cosy with warmth.
‘Ella?’ he called. ‘The bath is ready.’
She walked into a small bathroom to find a tub filled with lavender-scented bubbles. William was beaming at her with his sleeves up around his elbows.
‘I’ve never filled this thing before,’ he admitted. ‘I’m a shower kind of guy.’
She smiled. ‘It looks like bliss. Thank you.’
‘Just enjoy it. I’ll find something for us to eat.’
Her face fell. ‘Please don’t . . .’
‘You have to eat something,’ he insisted. ‘Even if it’s just dry toast. I’ll see you in a while.’ He closed the door and left her to it.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he accessed his contacts. Noelle Hilton, a girl from his class at university, was now a GP nearby. Ella needed to be checked out as soon as possible. She looked malnourished and dehydrated. Noelle answered and they arranged that she call over in an hour.
Satisfied, he opened the fridge, looking for bland food. Her vomiting was exacerbated by more vomiting. She was trapped in a cycle that needed to be broken. Maybe she’d like some eggs? He took out two and cracked them into a bowl. Something was better than nothing.
Noelle emerged from his bedroom after a thorough examination of Ella.
William jumped up from the couch. ‘All okay?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘She’s resting now but I would recommend that you take her to hospital as soon as you can.’
‘Hospital?’
‘She’s dehydrated, Will. The sickness has robbed her of all her back-up. She’s underweight and I suspect she’ll need a drip.’ She put her plastic gloves in the bin. ‘That baby needs to be scanned also. Everything needs to be checked out properly.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll take her right away. Christ, Noelle, I should have gone straight to A&E.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up. Just get her sorted as soon as you can.’ She wrote a prescription for anti-nausea tablets. ‘Try her with these. We prescribe them for vertigo but they might just stave off that incessant vomiting.’
William walked her out. ‘Thank you for coming over at such short notice.’
‘Oh, it was a blessing. The in-laws were round for dinner and I was dying of boredom.’ She laughed. ‘You saved my evening.’ She grasped his arm. ‘I don’t know what your situation is, Will.’ Her eyes were kind. ‘If this baby is yours, well and good – I’m not prying. However, she needs to look after herself. There’s a long road to go before she’ll be back on her feet.’
He opened the door. ‘I’ve got it from here, Noelle. Trust me on that. She’s my number-one priority.’
Chapter Twenty-six
Aurora put on her wig for what seemed like the millionth time. The Saturday night performance was always the big one. The show had been running for almost three weeks and she was getting better and better. As promised, Bertie had spread the word and each night there were familiar faces in the crowd. The knock-on effect of this was lots of media coverage and paparazzi, which already added publicity to excellent reviews. The play was sold out for the next month and Hello! magazine was due to do a small piece on Aurora herself. The beautiful daughter of Henry Sinclair and Grace Molloy was a perfect candidate for an interview; the public wanted to know more about this young rising star.
A knock on the door interrupted her prep so she left the gloves on the dressing table. ‘Coming!’ she called, her flapper dress swinging as she walked.
Opening the door, she screamed in delight. Standing there, in his favourite navy hoodie, was James.
‘Borealis!’ he cried with his arms wide open. ‘Look who’s back!’
She felt her heart fill to the brim. It seemed like months since they had met. This meant that he was home safely. Home in London: back where he belonged. She catapulted herself into his arms and hugged him close.
‘Whoa, whoa!’ he said, pushing her back. ‘You’re covered in make-up. Just look at my hoodie.’
‘Lipstick on your collar, told a tale on you!’ she sang softly. ‘Remember Gloria and that Connie Francis tape in the car?’
‘I only recall Doris Day.’ He walked into the room. ‘Nice digs,’ he said, laughing at the small dark area where she put on her costume. ‘No chance of you becoming a diva in here.’
‘It suits me fine,’ she said firmly. ‘What more do I need? I have a mirror, a clothes rail and my make-up.’
‘I just thought that now you were such a huge star you’d have a palatial dressing room with marble floors and a flat screen TV.’
‘Not yet,’ she laughed. ‘However, did Gloria tell you my news? Hello! magazine want to interview me!’
‘She mentioned it once or twice,’ he said, grinning. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen such excitement.’
‘Are you alone?’ she asked casually.
‘No, Claire is outside. She’s reading the programme and guarding our seats like a Rottweiler.’ He smiled. ‘She’s never seen you in action.’
‘I hope I don’t disappoint.’
He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You know, you don’t look half bad with short hair.’
‘Should I get a haircut then? It would be far easier to fit into this wig.’
He shook his head. ‘No. Never cut your hair.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Good luck! Don’t mess up your lines as I’ll be watching you and judging you.’
‘Blah, blah!’ She stuck out her tongue at him. ‘You’ll probably fall asleep anyway. It’s a love story.’
‘Hey now, I’m not against love stories. Remember all those Disney Princess films I sat through for you?’
She laughed. ‘Oh, you loved them really.’
Elise backed away from Jimmy, her eyes wide and her chest heaving.
‘You gotta leave, Jimmy,’ she breathed, her leg exposed through the beads of her dress. ‘Joey can’t find you here. You gotta leave.’
‘I can’t,’ he answered, taking off his hat and shaking out his blond hair. His white shirt clung to his tall athletic frame as he moved. He was the antithesis to small rotund Joey Sloane.
She eyed him in fear and excitement, her breathing shallow. Her dark smoky eyes were huge as he moved closer.
‘This can never be, do you hear? I’m a married woman. He’d kill us both.’ She hung her head. ‘Please get out.’ The tone of her voice said otherwise.
Jimmy traced his finger up her thigh and she threw her head back.
‘What we got is special, Elise. I know you feel it too.’ He grabbed her arms and forced her to look at him.
‘Let it happen, Elise.’
‘Don’t touch me . . . please .. .’
‘I can’t stop myself.’
‘Oh, Jimmy . . .’
James clapped madly, whooping as Aurora bowed again and again. ‘Fantastic!’ he yelled over and over.
Claire pulled at his sleeve. ‘Good Lord, calm down! You’re easily the loudest person here.’
James ignored her and kept shouting ‘Fantastic!’ as loudly as he could.
The noise died down and the curtain fell.
‘Right, shall we go back to Richmond?’ said Claire, putting on her coat. ‘I have to meet Melanie in the morning for a run.’
‘Running on a Sunday?’ James gave her a look. ‘We’re just back, Claire. Can’t we just relax and enjoy ourselves for a few weeks?’
‘I have a job interview on Monday,’ she said primly. ‘Which is more than you have. Will you please ring up the BBC and organise a meeting? I really want to make an offer on that house near my parents’ place. You know what property is like here, James. We’ll miss the boat.’
Her small face was set in a frown as she spoke so he kissed her nose. ‘You need to calm down,’ he said truthfully. ‘This is not the place to discuss all this. I want to see Aurora to congratulate her before we go.’
‘Really?’ Claire looked peeved. ‘I’m exhausted.’
‘Just go and get the car,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll be out in a sec.’
He walked through the stage door and down the dark corridor once more. He knocked on her door and she opened it right away. Her wig had been removed and her face was back to its normal colour. She looked like the girl he knew, not that sultry temptress on stage.
‘Well?’ She waited for a reaction.
‘You were,’ he paused, ‘fantastic! Just fantastic!’
‘So that was you yelling in the crowd.’ She giggled. ‘All I could hear was “Fantastic!” over and over.’
‘Well, it’s an apt word tonight.’ He slapped her on the back. ‘Remember me when you’re famous, Borealis. Don’t forget the guy you beat at chess every Christmas.’
‘The guy who lets me win at chess every Christmas,’ she corrected. ‘No, I could never forget you.’
They stared at each other for a moment.
Eventually James spoke. ‘Are you and that Paul, you know...?’
‘Paul Lewis? As in Jimmy Romano?’ She burst out laughing. ‘He’s gay, James.’
‘Really?’ He looked dubious. ‘He looked pretty hetero up on that stage. I thought he’d tear your dress off.’
‘So you think we had chemistry?’
‘I was hot around the collar.’ He crossed his chest. ‘Hand on heart, I believed that you were made for each other.’
‘Forbidden love is always more exciting and alluring,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘They knew it was wrong, so that added to the frisson.’
‘Forbidden love? Whatever’s that?’
‘You know, like Launcelot and Guinevere . . . or Heathcliff and Cathy.’
‘Heathcliff and Cathy? What was forbidden about them?’
‘The fact that they were brother and sister,’ she explained. ‘That made it even more exciting.’
James said nothing for a moment. ‘Except they weren’t really brother and sister, were they? Not biologically.’
Her heart started to pound. ‘No. They weren’t.’
‘So, it was quite acceptable.’
‘Maybe . . .’
Justin burst into the room. ‘Dare I say it, but you were even better tonight!’
Aurora smiled. ‘It was because my darling brother was in the audience judging me.’
James made a face at her and then turned to Justin. ‘Well done,’ he said, shaking Justin’s hand. ‘It’s excellent.’
Justin nodded curtly. He hadn’t forgotten James’ animosity at the party at Oxshott. Still, he had complimented his work and looked amicable enough.
‘So, Borealis, I have to go,’ said James. ‘The ball and chain is waiting outside.’
‘Oh.’ She tried to mask her disappointment. ‘Will I see you soon?’
‘Gloria is preparing a welcome home feast next weekend. I think the whole family is invited. Laura is bringing her sugar daddy, I’m bringing Claire, and Will is bringing Ella Taylor.’
‘So, they’re official then?’
‘Well, no one knows exactly. He’s being all cagey. Mum’s thrilled as she thought he had commitment issues. So, there should be a huge crowd.’
‘The poor slow cooker will explode,’ she said.
‘Are you bringing someone?’ he asked innocently. ‘A boyfriend or someone like that?’
Aurora’s eyes widened as Justin reddened.
‘Right, I’ll see you later,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Ray needs to discuss something with me.’
The door slammed shut.
‘James!’ she hissed. ‘How could you?’
‘What’s his problem?’ he said. ‘I mean, you’re not that ugly.’
‘He’s a professional.’
‘If you say so.’ He blew her a kiss. ‘See you next week, Mrs. Sloane. Remember, you were . . .’
‘Fantastic?’
‘You said it.’
Chapter Twenty-seven
Ella opened her eyes. The waves of nausea began, but she stayed lying down. William had left a flask of ginger tea and some dry crackers on the bedside locker. Steeling herself, she took a bite and a sip, praying that it would balance her sugar levels.
Five minutes passed. Maybe she could sit up? She levered her body upwards and rested her head against the headboard. She was definitely feeling better – there was no comparison to before. William worked most days but he made it his business to come home for lunch to check on her. He googled foods that wouldn’t trigger the nausea and he wiped her brow if she vomited.
That night in A&E had passed in a blur. The doctor had been right. They had inserted an IV right away and kept her in for three days. During that time, an obstetrician came and examined her. She had a dating scan, they took her bloods and she was given medication to help with the sickness.
William had stayed by her side, making her laugh and holding her hand. She didn’t quite understand why he would bother with a thin, pale, pregnant wretch like her, but she thanked God that he was looking after her. The scan had shown that she was just over nine weeks. The doctor had assured her that with any luck the nausea should abate soon. Despite the malnourishment and dehydration, the baby was perfect. The first time she saw it on the screen, her heart did a little jump. It had a huge head and the makings of limbs, but you could already sense its personality. It was zipping around like a boss and it reminded her of her childhood self.
Now she was almost twelve weeks: just on the cusp of the famous second trimester. Oh, how she yearned to feel normal again. She was sick of being cooped up all the time, too weak to go out alone. She started to resent the crackers and the dry toast. The last two months had been the closest to absolute suffering that she had ever experienced. Her life was in limbo: trapped between reality and a dreamlike world where she slept all day and had no concept of time. She was no fool; soon it would impossible to conceal her protruding belly. Being thin, it showed even more. She also couldn’t live off William’s charity for ever. She needed to sort out her life. Maybe she should go back to Toronto and face her parents. She sure as hell wasn’t fit to get a job at the moment.
Swinging her legs over the side, she decided to have a shower. Her hair felt lank and greasy. Maybe if she felt somewhat well, she could meet William for lunch at the pub.
Her stomach heaved.
The reality was that the shower would zap her energy levels. Her bed would beckon once more. She felt a wave of depression wash over her and she sighed. She felt like a prisoner in her own body – nothing was worth this misery. Maybe she was being p
unished for sleeping with a married man. Each day rolled into one: days of sickness, sadness and despair.
William arrived home at six with two bags full of groceries. She was watching some quiz show on TV, propped up by cushions on the couch.
‘Honey, I’m home!’ yelled William playfully. ‘Did you have a good day?’
Ella shrugged. ‘It was no different to any other,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Just dry crackers, naps and more dry crackers.’
He stopped filling the fridge and was by her side in a moment. ‘What’s up?’
‘This isn’t working.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘I can’t hide away forever.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I need to get well and find a job. I need to stop relying on your kindness.’
‘Ella, be reasonable,’ he said. ‘You’re in no state to work. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. In fact, I’m quite fond of it.’
‘No, Will, I have to do something. Maybe I should go home. Maybe I should face my parents. They don’t have to know who the father is. I can just imply that it was a one-night stand.’
William started to pace the room. ‘You’re being crazy here, Ella. If you go home, you will have to deal with legalities and all that.’
‘Legalities? How do you mean?’
‘Well, if you go back to Toronto and have the baby, that Josh bloke will hear about it. What if he wants custody?’
‘Are you joking? He paid me to have it eliminated from his life!’
William grimaced. ‘Well, I think you should stay in London, that’s all. You’re safer here.’
‘I’m a nobody here,’ she said angrily. ‘I know I sound ungrateful, but I’m not.’ Her eyes filled with tears.
He sat down on the edge of the couch and pulled her close. ‘Don’t cry, Ella,’ he soothed. ‘I understand what you mean. Shhhhh . . .’
She sobbed silently on his chest, breathing in his familiar smell.
‘Stay here,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘Temporarily. You can tell your parents if you wish . . . they may take it better if they know I’m taking care of you . . . however they may interpret that. Then, once the baby is born and you’re back on your feet, all should settle. You can get a job again and be independent.’ He paused. ‘If that’s what you want.’