‘It’s by Danny Kovitz,’ I tell her. ‘He’s a friend of mine, actually.’
‘Great,’ says Sage, but she makes no move to stroke it or touch it, let alone ask to try it on. This is really not going as I planned.
‘You’re size 6½, aren’t you?’ I say in desperation. ‘I bought these shoes by mistake. Why don’t you have them?’
‘Really?’ She looks at me in surprise, eyeing my bigger feet.
‘Yes! Absolutely! Have them.’ I put them on the table. They’re pale coral-coloured sandals by Sergio Rossi, just very simple and gorgeous. In fact, I covet them myself, and it was really hard buying them in Sage’s size, not mine.
‘Nice.’ At last! Sage is finally showing some interest. She picks up a sandal and turns it this way and that. ‘My sister would love these. We’re the same size. I give her all my cast-offs. Thanks!’
I stare at her, dismayed. Her sister? Cast-offs?
A thought suddenly occurs to Sage. ‘How come you bought them in the wrong size? Isn’t that weird?’
I’m aware of Luke’s sardonic gaze from across the table.
‘Oh. Right.’ I can feel myself flushing. ‘Well … I got confused between British and American sizing. And I never tried them on. And I can’t take them back.’
‘That’s a shame. Well, thanks!’ She hands the shoes to Aran, who places them in a tote bag at his feet. Feeling crestfallen, I watch them disappear.
She didn’t admire a single thing I’d bought. She didn’t suggest shopping together, or ask for advice on her next red-carpet appearance, or any of my fantasies. I can’t help feeling dispirited. But I’m not going to give up. Maybe I just need to get to know her a bit better.
Luke is circulating a sheet headed Agenda. Everyone’s ignoring me. I can’t hover near the table any more. But I can’t just go tamely back inside the house. Maybe … I’ll sunbathe. Yes, good idea. I hurry into the house and collect Variety from the living room, then nonchalantly walk to a sunbed about ten feet away from the table and sit down on it. Luke glances up with a slight frown, but I ignore him. I’m allowed to sunbathe in my own garden, aren’t I?
I open Variety and read some piece about the future of 3D franchises, while trying to listen in on the conversation at the table. The trouble is, they’re all talking so quietly. Mum always complains that modern movie stars mumble, and I have to agree. I can’t hear anything Sage is saying. She should have some proper speech and drama lessons. She should project!
Luke is being equally discreet, and the only one whose voice is resonating through the garden is Aran. Even so, I’m only catching the odd intriguing word.
‘… brand … positioning … Cannes … next year … Europe …’
‘I agree,’ chimes in Luke. ‘But … mumble mumble … big budget … Academy Awards …’
Academy Awards? My ears prick up. What about the Academy Awards? God, I wish there were subtitles.
‘You know what?’ says Sage with sudden animation. ‘Fuck them. They’re a … mumble mumble … Pippi Taylor … well, their choice …’
I’m nearly falling off my sunbed, trying to hear. It said in the Hollywood Reporter last week that Sage Seymour had lost out to Pippi Taylor in the last three roles she’d gone for. It also said that Sage was on a ‘downward slide’, not that I would mention this. I think that’s why she’s hired Luke – to help turn things round for her.
‘… Lois Kellerton situation …’
‘… have to ignore Lois Kellerton, Sage.’
Lois Kellerton. I sit up straighter, my mind working frantically. Now I remember. There’s some old feud between Sage and Lois Kellerton. Isn’t there a clip of them on YouTube, yelling at each other backstage at an awards ceremony? But I can’t remember what it’s all about.
‘Ignore that bitch?’ Sage’s voice rises indignantly. ‘After everything she did to me? Are you kidding? She’s a … mumble mumble …’
‘… not relevant …’
‘… totally relevant!’
Oh, I can’t bear it. For once, I have something to contribute to the conversation! I can’t keep quiet any longer.
‘I met Lois Kellerton!’ I blurt out. ‘I met her when we were out here house-hunting.’
‘Oh, really?’ Sage glances briefly up towards me. ‘Poor you.’
‘I didn’t know that, Becky.’ Luke looks surprised.
‘Yes, well. It was quite bizarre. You’ll never guess what she was doing.’ I feel a flash of triumph as Sage finally gives me her full attention.
‘What was that maniac doing?’
‘She was …’
I hesitate for a moment as Lois’s pale, tense face flashes through my mind. Her pleading voice. Her hand on mine. I did promise to keep her secret, I think uncomfortably. And I’ve kept that promise until now. (Except telling Suze. That doesn’t count.)
But on the other hand, why should I protect her? She was breaking the law. Exactly. Exactly! I should really have marched her to the nearest police station. And then she tried to bribe me. Well, I’m not someone who can be bribed. No way. Not Becky Brandon. Besides which …
I mean, the point is …
OK. The real, honest truth is, I’m desperate to keep Sage’s attention.
‘She was shoplifting!’ The words pop out of my mouth before I can think about it any more. And if I wanted a reaction, I’m not disappointed.
‘No way.’ Sage’s eyes flash, and she bangs the table with her hand. ‘No way.’
‘Shoplifting?’ says Aran, in astonishment.
‘Come here. Come!’ Sage pats the chair beside her. ‘Tell us all about it.’
Trying to hide my delight, I hurry over to the table and sink down in the chair next to Sage.
Oh God, my thighs are about twice the size of hers. Never mind. I’ll just keep my gaze away from the general thigh direction.
‘What happened?’ Sage is demanding eagerly. ‘Where were you?’
‘She was in a sports shop on Rodeo Drive. She pinched three pairs of socks. I mean, she gave them back,’ I add hurriedly. ‘I think it was just … you know. A moment of madness.’
‘And you caught her?’
‘I chased her down the street,’ I admit. ‘I didn’t know who she was at first.’
‘You’re a hero!’ Sage lifts a hand and high-fives me with her tiny, beringed hand. ‘Go Becky!’
‘I had no idea.’ Luke looks gobsmacked.
‘Well, I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.’
‘But you’ve just told us.’ Luke raises his eyebrows at me and I feel an uneasy pang, which I squash down. Come on. It’s no big deal. It’s not like I’ve blabbed to the whole world.
‘Don’t tell anyone else, will you?’ I look around the table. ‘It was only three pairs of socks.’
‘Sure.’ Sage pats my hand. ‘Your secret’s safe with us.’
‘She was lucky it was you that caught her and not store security,’ says Aran dryly.
‘Typical. That witch always lands on her feet.’ Sage rolls her eyes. ‘Now, if it had been me who caught her …’
‘Don’t even go there.’ Aran gives a short laugh.
‘What happened between you two?’ I venture timidly. ‘I know there was some kind of … argument?’
‘Argument?’ Sage gives a snort. ‘More like a completely unprovoked attack. She’s, like, a total psycho. She has a screw loose, if you ask me.’
‘Sage.’ Aran sighs. ‘This is old ground.’ He glances at Luke. ‘Maybe we could move on.’
‘Absolutely.’ Luke nods. ‘Let’s—’
‘No! Becky wants to hear about it!’ Sage turns to me, ignoring both Aran and Luke. ‘It started at the SAG Awards. She said she should have won Best Actress because she looked better than me in her movie. Hello? I was playing a cancer victim.’
‘No way,’ I stare at her, shocked. ‘That’s awful.’
‘You know what she said? “You don’t get any acting awards for shaving off your hair.”’ Sage’s eyes
open wide. ‘D’you know how much research I put into that role?’
‘Anyway—’
‘Well, she’s getting what she deserves now.’ Sage’s eyes narrow. ‘D’you hear about this athletics film she’s doing? Nightmare. Ten million over budget and the director just walked out. Everyone hates her. She’s gonna go down.’ Her phone bleeps and she squints at it. ‘Oh. I gotta go. You guys finish up without me.’
‘You have to go?’ Luke stares at her. ‘We’ve only just started!’
‘Sage, hon.’ Aran sighs again. ‘We cleared your schedule for this. We want to hear what Luke has to say.’
‘I have to go,’ she repeats, shrugging. ‘I forgot I have a class at Golden Peace.’
‘Well, cancel it.’
‘I’m not going to cancel it!’ she retorts, as though he’s crazy. ‘I’ll catch up with you guys later.’ I can see Aran and Luke exchanging frustrated looks, as she picks up her bag, but I’m more interested in the fact that she’s going to Golden Peace.
‘So, do you go to Golden Peace a lot?’ I ask casually.
‘Oh, all the time. It’s amazing. You should go.’
‘Actually, I’m planning to,’ I hear myself saying. ‘So I’ll see you there!’
‘You’re going to Golden Peace, Becky?’ says Luke, deadpan. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Yes, actually.’ I avoid his quizzical gaze. ‘I’m going to sign up for some classes.’
‘Oh, do it!’ says Sage earnestly. ‘That place is great. I have, like, huge self-esteem issues, and they’ve really worked on them. I have self-assertion issues, too, self-acceptance issues … I’m battling some pretty big stuff.’ She flicks back her hair. ‘How about you?’
‘Me too,’ I say hastily. ‘I’m battling some big stuff too. I have … er … spending issues. I want to work on those.’
I hear a snort from Luke’s direction, which I choose to ignore.
Sage nods. ‘They have a good programme for that. It’s just a great place for getting your shit together. I mean, what good is all of this if we don’t love ourselves, right?’ She spreads her arms wide. ‘And how can we love ourselves if we don’t get ourselves?’
‘Exactly.’ I nod too. ‘That’s exactly what I’ve always thought.’
‘Great. Well, see you there. We could have coffee?’
‘Love to,’ I say as carelessly as possible.
‘This is my new cell number …’ She reaches for my phone and punches in a number. ‘Text me back, then I’ll have yours.’
Oh my God! I want to pinch myself. I’m making a date for coffee with Sage! Finally I have something to tell Mum and Suze!
As soon as Sage has left I hurry into the house and call Suze.
‘Hey, Suze!’ I blurt out as soon as she answers. ‘Guess what?’
‘No, you guess what!’ she replies, her voice bubbling over with excitement. ‘We’re coming to LA! I’ve swung it with Tarkie. He’s going to have a meeting with his investment people out there. I said to him, “It’s irresponsible to have investments in the States and not even know what they are.” So at last he agreed. And he really needs a break.’ She sighs. ‘He’s still devastated about The Surge. Did you see the newspaper write-ups?’
I wince. ‘A couple.’
‘His father keeps sending him newspaper clippings and saying he’s disgraced the Cleath-Stuart name.’
‘No!’ I say in horror.
‘Poor Tarkie feels like such a failure. And the stupid thing is, the fountain works now. It’s a brilliant tourist attraction. But everyone just remembers the launch going wrong.’
‘Well, come out to LA as soon as you can,’ I say firmly. ‘We’ll walk on the beach and forget all about it and Tarkie will cheer up.’
‘Exactly. I’m looking into flights right now. I’ve told the school we’re taking the children on an educational sabbatical. LA is educational, right?’
‘Definitely! So how long are you coming for?’
‘I don’t know,’ says Suze. ‘At least a month, maybe more. Tarkie needs some serious time off. A week won’t do it. Oh, what was your news?’ she adds as an afterthought.
‘Nothing much,’ I say casually. ‘Just that I met Sage Seymour and we really got on and we’re going to have coffee at Golden Peace.’
Ha!
‘Oh my God!’ Suze’s voice blasts me away. ‘Come on, spill! What was she like? What was she wearing? What did— Hang on,’ she interrupts herself. ‘Did you say Golden Peace?’
‘Yes.’ I try to sound nonchalant.
‘The rehab place?’
‘Yes.’
‘Started by Alicia Bitch Long-legs’ husband?’
‘Yes.’
‘Bex, are you insane? Why are you going there?’
‘To … um … to go on the spending-addiction programme.’
‘What?’ She actually splutters down the phone.
‘I want to work on my issues.’ I clear my throat. ‘I have some big stuff to sort out.’
Somehow when I say it to Suze it doesn’t sound as convincing as it did before.
‘No you don’t!’ she says in derision. ‘You just want to hang out with Sage Seymour and all the celebrities!’
‘Well, so what if I do?’ I say defensively.
‘But they’re all weird,’ she says, sounding unhappy. ‘Bex, don’t get weird on me, please.’
I’m momentarily silenced. She’s right. They are a bit weird. Alicia’s totally weird. But then, if I don’t go to Golden Peace, how will I get to have coffee with Sage?
‘I’ll be fine. I’ll only listen with one ear.’
‘Well … all right.’ Suze sighs. ‘But don’t get sucked in. Please.’
‘I promise.’ I cross my fingers.
I’m not going to admit the truth: I quite want to get sucked in. Because it’s occurred to me that if Sage goes to Golden Peace, who else might go? What career opportunities might there be? What if I meet some famous director and we get talking about the costumes for his next film over herbal tea, or whatever they drink. (Probably coconut water or yam water. Or banana water. Something gross like that.)
‘Bex?’
‘Oh.’ I come to. ‘Sorry, Suze.’
‘So, come on,’ she demands. ‘What was Sage wearing? And don’t leave anything out.’
‘Well …’ I sit back happily, settling in for a proper long chat. LA is fab and exciting and everything … but I do miss my best friend.
From: Kovitz, Danny
To: Kovitz, Danny
Subject: I’m alive!!!!!!
* * *
dearest friends
i write this from training camp on the island of kulusuk. i have been here one day and already i know this will be a transformating experience for me. i’ve never felt so alive. i have taken shots of the snow ice and the cute inuit people with their darling clothes. i am ready for the challenge. i am ready to push myself. i am ready to be at one with the soaring powerful nature that is around me. it is a mystical experience. i feel proud and humbled and enlivened and excited. i will see landscapes few people have ever seen. i will push myself to the brink. my new collection will be based on the experience.
all my love and wish me luck. i will email again from the next camp.
danny xxxxx
NINE
All I can say is … wow. I mean, Namaste. Or maybe Satnam? (I’ve been learning lots of spiritual, yoga-ish words and trying to use them in conversation. Except that ‘Satnam’ always makes me think of ‘sat nav’.)
Why have I never got into Mind Body Spirit before? Why did I never do wellbeing classes in England? Or Navigate Your Inner Terrain? Or Sound Healing for Childhood Damage? I’ve been attending Golden Peace for two weeks now, and it’s transformed my life. It’s just amazing!
For a start, the place is fantastic. It’s a huge site on the coast, just south of LA. It used to be a golf club, but now it’s all low sandy-coloured buildings and koi lakes and a running track, which I’m totally intendin
g to use sometime. Plus they sell fresh juices, and healthy meals, and there’s free yoga at lunchtime on the beach, and in the evenings they show inspirational movies outside while everyone lolls on beanbags. Basically, you don’t ever want to leave.
I’m sitting in a room with a dark wooden floor and billowing white curtains at the windows and a softly fragranced air. All the rooms at Golden Peace smell the same – it’s their signature scent of ylang ylang and cedar and … some other really healthy thing. You can buy the scented candles at the gift shop. I’ve already bought eight, because they’ll make perfect Christmas presents.
All the spending-addiction programmes were full when I phoned up, but that doesn’t matter, because this really nice girl, Izola, recommended a whole programme of general wellbeing classes for me. The point is, everyone can work on their soul and inner being, because the spiritual muscle needs exercise like any other. (I read that in the brochure.)
I do self-esteem group on Mondays, Compassionate Communication on Tuesdays, The Transitive Self on Wednesdays, and this brilliant class called Tapping for Wellbeing on Fridays. Right now it’s a Thursday morning, and I’m in Mindfulness for a Positive Life. At the start of the class, the teacher always says how hard mindfulness is and how it will take time to let go of the outside world, and we mustn’t be impatient with ourselves. But actually, I find it really easy. I think I must be a natural.
The group is quiet, and we’re all meditating on something in the room, which is what we do every week. Luckily, the people at Golden Peace are all really stylish, so there’s always something interesting to meditate on. Today I’m focusing on a gorgeous leather backpack in teal, which the dark-haired girl opposite me has slung below her chair. I want to ask her if they come in slate grey, but perhaps I’ll do that after the class.
‘Brian,’ says our teacher Mona, in a soft voice. ‘Could you please vocalize for us your mindfulness journey today? What are you meditating on?’
I’ve seen Brian before. He’s tall and buff with quite a prominent nose, which is unusual in LA, and he brings in a Starbucks, although I’m sure that’s not allowed.
‘I’m focusing on the grain in the wooden floor,’ says Brian, in a stilted voice. ‘I’m looking at the way the wood swirls around and ebbs and flows. I want to think about my ex-wife, but I’m going to push those thoughts away.’ He sounds suddenly fierce. ‘I’m not going to think about her or her lawyer—’
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