by Paige Toon
‘I love you,’ he whispers.
‘I love you more,’ I reply.
‘It’s not possible.’
We smile small smiles at each other.
‘Please can we go public?’ he begs. ‘I hate being without you.’
I sigh, my tears abating. ‘Let’s talk in the morning.’
He nods and I reach across to switch off the bedside light.
‘Nice bedhead, by the way,’ he murmurs as I snuggle into the crook of his arm.
I swear I’m still smiling as I fall asleep.
I wake up to the sound of him shaving. I sit up in bed and peer through the gap in the door to the en suite. Sensing movement, he pauses for a moment and peeks out at me.
‘Morning,’ he says with a grin.
‘Morning,’ I reply sleepily.
‘Sorry I woke you.’
‘What’s the time?’
‘Nine o’clock.’
That’s pretty good for me, actually. I’ve been struggling to sleep recently. I nod at his electric razor. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
‘You think I should keep my disguise?’
‘Might be an idea?’
‘Nah,’ he says. ‘It’s too damn itchy.’
I smile at him. ‘I prefer you clean-shaven anyway.’
‘You’ll have me that way in ten minutes.’
‘Promises, promises,’ I tease.
But he stays true to it.
It’s even more blissful kissing him when I don’t have a beard to contend with. I could stay in bed with him all day, if I weren’t so excited about showing him the house.
‘Come on,’ I urge.
He climbs out of bed and I pause for a moment to admire the view as he gets a T-shirt and cargo pants out from his suitcase. He must’ve brought it upstairs while I was asleep. He is definitely broader. Hang on, what’s that?
‘Is that a scar?’ I ask with concern as he drags his T-shirt over his head.
‘Where? Oh, there,’ he replies, looking over his shoulder at his lower back. ‘Just a scratch.’
‘That is not just a scratch,’ I say, climbing out of bed and going over to study it. It’s about ten centimetres long, jagged, and looks quite deep. ‘Did you need stitches?’
‘A few,’ he replies, stepping away and pulling on his cargo pants. I bloody knew it. ‘It’s not a big deal,’ he adds.
‘How did it happen?’
‘I fell out of a tree.’ He looks a bit self-conscious.
‘Are you still doing your own stunts?’ I ask accusatorily.
‘Don’t start that again,’ he warns.
‘I’m serious, Joe! You shouldn’t do that! It’s dangerous!’ My voice has climbed an octave and I hate that I sound whiney, but I can’t help it. He hurt himself in Australia, too, when he slipped and fell down a rock face during a thunderstorm. He still has the scars on his ribs to show for it.
‘I’ve always done my own stunts,’ he says firmly.
‘Yeah, well, that was before you had me around to nag you,’ I point out. ‘It’s not just you that you have to think about anymore,’ I add.
‘I guess we’ll have to add this to our list of things to talk about,’ he says meaningfully.
That shuts me up.
He leans forward to give me a quick peck on my lips. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
I give him a wry look and then go to the curtains. ‘You ready?’ I ask.
His brow furrows. ‘Yes?’ he replies uncertainly, not knowing what I’m going on about.
And then I pull back the curtains.
‘Wow,’ he says.
The view out of our window is stunning, gently undulating snowy hills reaching for miles. There are no leaves on the trees at the moment, but I can already imagine how beautiful it will be in the spring. I hope he’s here to share it with me.
‘Come and see downstairs,’ I say eagerly.
Home is a large thatched house, dating back to the mid-sixteenth century. It was once a farmhouse and is still set within five acres of land, with barns that have conversion potential should we ever need the extra space. Joe could probably do with a high-tech gym and a kickboxing studio to work out in, keep his famous martial arts skills up-to-scratch. Then again, we could just get a bunch of animals. You know, for fun. Joe would love a puppy. I still remember how much he loved his late dog, Dyson. I wonder if I could get him a dog as a Christmas present? I am so tempted. Obviously, I’d have to look after it… Hmm, might not be very practical.
Joe’s amazed at everything I’ve managed to do in such a short space of time. But I did have movers and packers to help me, and I have been walking around interior design shops for weeks, using the credit card Joe’s PA Melanie sent me. I’m so relieved he likes everything. It’s all for him.
We sit at the kitchen bench table and I make him a freshly ground coffee while our croissants are heating up.
‘Now, are you sure you can eat these?’ I tease, bringing the pastries out of the oven.
He rolls his eyes, but chooses to ignore me. ‘What time do you think Jessie and Emily will come over?’
‘I don’t know. Sometime this afternoon, I imagine.’
‘They seem nice,’ he comments.
‘You were very good with them,’ I reply. ‘Do you find it weird, people reacting to you like that?’
‘It still freaks me out sometimes,’ he admits.
‘In that case, you’re a good actor.’
‘Well, thank you.’ He smiles at me, then his face becomes thoughtful as he sips his coffee.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
He reaches for a croissant, trying to play it down. ‘Nicky thinks I could be up for an Oscar this year.’
Nicky is his agent. I spoke to him once, years ago, when I tried to track down Joe. I still haven’t met him in person.
‘No way!’ I squeal excitedly. ‘For Magnitude Mile?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, I’m not surprised. It’s the best movie I’ve ever seen.’
He laughs with embarrassment. I was in LA with him during the summer holidays when it came out. I went to the Hollywood premiere, and it was one of the most surreal moments of my life, walking down the red carpet and hearing people chanting his name. But after that I felt a bit lost, because not only could I not arrive with him, I couldn’t even sit next to him. Naturally, I felt incredibly proud of him, but overall it was quite a lonely experience. Not that I told him that.
‘Ooh, does that mean you’ll get to go to the Oscars?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’ He tuts. ‘At long bloody last.’
His last two films, Night Fox and Phoenix Seven, were both nominated for various awards last year. People thought it was a travesty that he wasn’t nominated for Best Actor for at least one of them, so it seems ‘Oscar’ might put that right this year.
I feel a sting. How I would love to go with him – actually with him – but that would mean letting go of almost everything else in my life.
‘So…’ he says, and I know exactly what he’s going to say.
‘No,’ I rebuke him. ‘I don’t want to go public yet.’
He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. ‘Then when?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t stand the thought of losing my privacy – my family’s privacy. Imagine how this will affect Mum and Dad?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t worried about that, too.’
‘And I have nightmares about your crazed fans hunting me down…’
‘We’d have to get you some security—’
‘You think I want to have bodyguards following me around?’ I interrupt, my voice rising.
He stays silent, brooding.
‘And I still love my job,’ I add more calmly. ‘I don’t want to leave it.’
He sighs before speaking. ‘I wish you didn’t have to go to work this week.’
‘Me too.’ I manage a laugh. ‘I don’t love it that much.’
He smiles at me. ‘
So what does Miss Simmons get for Christmas from her pupils?’
I wince. He clearly doesn’t know I’m still using my married name at work. But he’s going to find out on Friday when I bring Christmas cards home from the children.
‘It’s still Mrs Heuber, I’m afraid,’ I tell Joe.
‘Oh.’ He looks away from me, distinctly unimpressed. ‘When are you planning on changing it?’
I shift on my seat. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to confuse them all halfway through the school year.’
‘But you’re divorced,’ he points out. ‘Finally,’ he adds under his breath with a touch of sarcasm.
‘I’ll speak to the head teacher about it,’ I promise him. ‘What was he like?’ Joe swallows and turns to study my face. ‘When you saw him?’
I know he’s not talking about the head teacher. We’re back on the subject of Lukas. ‘He was… detached.’
‘Did he try to convince you to go back to him?’
‘No, actually. No. I don’t think he’ll do that again.’
God, it was awful. Lukas was so cold, so distant. He informed me very matter-of-factly that he’s seeing someone else, a fellow professor at the University of Munich. She’s German, and also a physician.
I tell Joe about her. ‘He’ll be able to discuss metaphysics and quark structures till his heart’s content. I could never understand what he was going on about.’
I try to brush it off, but the truth is it hurts to think about Lukas with someone else. Even though I know it shouldn’t. Deep down I’m glad he’s happy. I just wish he didn’t hate me so much.
The next morning it’s with a heavy heart that I kiss Joe goodbye. I have to return to school for my last week before we break up for the Christmas holidays. I promise him I’ll come home as soon as I can, but he assures me he’ll be happy just chilling out in our new home and maybe going for a walk.
When I get home there’s a snowman on the front lawn. Joe comes out of the house and stands next to it with his arms crossed, looking very pleased and proud of himself. I crack up laughing.
‘You doofus,’ I say.
‘Don’t you like it?’ he asks, pretending to be hurt.
‘I’ve seen better,’ I joke.
He tuts at me and shakes his head. ‘Now you’ve done it.’
‘What?’
He scoops up a handful of snow.
‘Don’t you dare!’ I warn as he packs it into the shape of a ball. ‘Right!’ I turn to scoop up a handful of my own, but his snowball hits me on my bum as I’m bending over. ‘Oi!’ I shout, turning around and hurling a ball at him. He ducks and it flies straight past him. Another one comes my way. This time I block it. I chase him, laughing, around the side of the house. But he stops suddenly and comes towards me.
‘How was your day?’ he asks, his eyes twinkling.
I screw up my nose, but don’t let go of my snowball. ‘Actually, it was a bit rubbish.’
His face falls. ‘Why?’
‘Roxy told me something.’
He groans and rolls his eyes. ‘Not her again.’ He’s never met her, but he’s not her biggest fan. The feeling, however, is far from mutual. She’s a self-confessed Strike Stalker, the person who fills me in on all of the gossip relating to Joe, whether I want her to or not. I never told her that I knew Joe when I was eighteen – it was a subject I kept close to my heart. It still is.
I drop the snowball and dust off my hands. I don’t feel like playing anymore.
‘What did she say?’ he asks warily.
My heart sinks. I have a horrible feeling that Roxy might be onto something with this one. ‘It was about Michelle Bleech.’
Joe keeps steady eye contact.
‘Is it true that you’re going to be starring with her in another film?’ I can’t keep the hurt from my voice.
He sighs again. This is not good. ‘Nicky wants me to, yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ My voice sounds small.
He gives me a pointed stare. ‘I didn’t want to ruin our conversations.’
It’s the same argument I used on him.
I turn and walk away from him, my head down.
‘Alice!’ he calls out. He runs after me and tries to pull me back, but I shake him off.
I hate Michelle Bleech. Okay, so I know there’s no truth in the rumours. She and Joe have a very tactile relationship and there’s definitely sexual chemistry between them on-screen, but off it there’s nothing going on between them. I saw that for myself in Australia.
‘Please don’t be upset. You know I don’t feel anything for her.’
‘I thought she was your best mate,’ I spit bitterly, jealousy coursing through my veins as I go inside the house.
Joe follows me, his shoulders slumping.
I still remember that argument with Joe very clearly. It was one of our worst. The tabloids had been riddled with rumours about Joe and Michelle’s steamy sex scenes. Even my best friend Lizzy had been in touch, asking how I felt. The truth was, I had been feeling sick and humiliated.
Ten months ago…
‘I just don’t understand why they’d keep printing this stuff if there’s no truth in it.’
It’s the middle of February and I’m on the phone to Joe. His filming schedule is so tight that we barely have any time to talk, and I hate myself for ruining our first conversation in a week by bringing up my insecurities.
‘There is no truth in it,’ he reiterates firmly, the satellite phone sounding less crackly for a change. ‘She’s good fun, we have a laugh, but that’s it.’
Every word hits me like a bullet. ‘She’s good fun, is she? You have a laugh?’ I despise how jealous I sound. I was never like this with Lukas. But then Lukas didn’t need to have sex with other women. Okay, so I know film sex isn’t real sex, and supposedly it’s really uncomfortable and anything but titillating for the actors, but still.
Joe sighs loudly. ‘See, this is why actors date actresses.’
My mouth gapes open in shock. ‘Did you really just say that to me? Go off and bloody well date her, then!’
‘I didn’t mean…’ he splutters. ‘Alice! What’s got into you?’
Hot tears prick my eyes.
‘Alice?’ His voice is quieter, more concerned.
‘It’s hard, Joe.’
‘I know. It’s hard for me too, thinking about you still living so close to Lukas,’ he says bitterly. ‘How’s that divorce coming along?’
‘He still won’t agree to it,’ I reply miserably. ‘But he will eventually. And at least you don’t have to listen to everyone going on about what we’re getting up to all the time.’
‘Just ignore them!’ He raises his voice. ‘None of it is true! We think one of the make-up artists is leaking stories to the press. It won’t go on for much longer.’
‘Leaking stories implies that there actually is a story that needs to be leaked!’
‘Alice!’ he raises his voice. ‘There is nothing going on between Michelle and me. We’re just friends.’
‘Friends?’ I erupt bitterly.
‘Yes, friends,’ he replies calmly. ‘You surely can’t have a problem with that?’
I surely can. Stupid, beautiful cow.
I storm into the kitchen and flick on the kettle. Joe follows me. ‘You and Jessie are friends,’ he says calmly. ‘I don’t give you hell about that.’
‘What?’ I splutter. ‘I’ve known Jessie for years!’
‘So? I lost count of the number of times he hugged you and ruffled your hair yesterday…’
‘Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of Jessie!’ I interrupt, outraged. ‘He’s just got married!’
‘Yes, and how do you think Emily feels about your touchy-feely relationship?’ he asks.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I snap.
Does she mind? Jessie and I have always had a very tactile relationship. Okay, so we lost that a bit when Lukas came on the scene, but I’ve been so happy to be close to him again. I�
�ve never even considered that it might bother Emily, but maybe it does. Maybe I need to be more sensitive.
I stand there at the kitchen counter in horrified silence as these thoughts go through my head. The kettle boils and Joe makes me a cup of tea.
‘Does it really bother you how Jessie and I are with each other?’ I ask, slightly astounded.
‘A little bit,’ he admits.
‘You really are quite a jealous person, aren’t you?’ I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.
‘Only when it comes to you,’ he replies, flashing me a smile. ‘I never used to be.’
‘Well, you don’t have to fret about me.’
‘And please don’t fret about me,’ he begs, pulling me into his arms.
I go willingly, but my heart sinks at the thought of him kissing Michelle Bleech, tongues and all. Suddenly I hate the fact that he is an actor. How the hell am I going to cope when that movie comes out and I have to watch them getting naked and steamy together on the big screen?
‘I hate her,’ I say in a muffled voice.
He exhales loudly and holds me at arms’ length. ‘You know, this would all be very different if you and I went public.’
I look up at him.
‘Alice, I know you’d be sad to leave your job, but you could try something else?’ he says in a pleading voice. ‘We could go travelling for a year, spend some proper time together.’
‘Travelling?’ I say with confusion. ‘But what about your filming schedule?’
‘I don’t have to agree to anything.’
‘But won’t Nicky be pissed off?’
‘Who cares?’ he says simply. ‘It’s not up to him.’
‘So you wouldn’t do the film? With Michelle?’
‘No. Not if you don’t want me to.’
My heart soars. ‘Really? You would do that for me?’
‘Alice,’ he says firmly. ‘I would do anything for you. Remember?’
I do remember. I do remember him telling me that a year ago in Dorset.
‘You could still do one film,’ I say, thinking for a moment. ‘I could definitely cope with that.’
‘How about an action film? I’ve read the script. There’s no kissing.’
‘Really?’ My heart threatens to burst, but I keep myself in check. ‘You can’t avoid sex scenes forever.’