by Suzy K Quinn
‘Me? Best actress?’ Shakily, I get to my feet.
‘Go on girl.’ Baz beats his hands together.
‘But I wasn’t nominated. Was I?’ I blink at the smiling faces around our table.
‘Evidently you were.’ Marc takes my arm. ‘Let’s go collect your award.’
I nearly fall over my feet as Marc leads me through the crowd.
Thank god I have his arm to hang on to.
Everyone is clapping and cheering.
I don’t really know how I reach the stage, but somehow I’m there, staring out at bright lights and famous faces.
‘So how does it feel, Sophia?’ Aurelie asks, holding out a mike.
I look down at the mesh of silver.
‘Oh wow.’ My voice booms all around the auditorium. ‘Um … I wasn’t expecting this.’
On the big screen, live images of the other nominees flash up.
‘Seriously.’ I take the mike. ‘This is … it’s incredible. Nadia is incredible. The whole cast and crew … Leo … you were amazing. And Marc.’ I turn to him. ‘You are the most amazing husband, father and teacher. And you’re right. I still have so much to learn.’
After I’ve been presented with my award, I navigate a sea of back pats and handshakes on the way back to our table.
I sit heavily in my chair, staring at my award and trying to work out how on earth this happened.
‘It’s real,’ says Marc, putting a hand over mine. ‘I promise you.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ I whisper back, smiling at my cheering, clapping table mates. ‘I think I could be dreaming. Hey. Where’s Leo.’
‘Gone, honey,’ says Nadia, filling my champagne glass. ‘Leo has balls. I’ll give him that. But Jesus, surely there was a better way. I mean, throwing his fucking career away ...’
‘The man’s in love,’ says Baz, putting an arm around Sigourney. ‘You do stupid things for love.’
‘Like messing up your whole life?’ says Nadia, filling everyone else’s glasses. ‘It took him years to build up his career. What woman will want to see him playing the nice guy now? When they know in real life he can be not so nice.’
‘I dunno,’ says Baz. ‘The great movie-going public have short memories. I thought my career was over when I got done for that drug charge. But they had me back again. God love ’em.’
‘But where did Leo go?’ I ask, scanning the crowd.
‘He left the building,’ says Sigourney. ‘The paps followed him out.’
I hunt around for my phone. ‘I should try and call Jen.’
95
Jen doesn’t answer her phone all night. Or reply to my text messages. By the time the ceremony finishes, I’m getting worried.
‘She always answers her phone to me,’ I tell Marc, as festival staff escort us out.
‘Maybe she needs time alone,’ says Marc, steering me past cameramen and glaring at any one stupid enough to try and get us in shot.
‘That’s not how it works with us,’ I insist, nodding thanks as we’re presented with woven-silver goodie bags. ‘Wow.’ I stop walking, glimpsing inside the bag. ‘I think there’s a Rolex watch in here.’
Sigourney leans in and whispers, ‘That’s not the half of it. The women get Cartier love bracelets too. And a luxury Caribbean holiday. Award-ceremony goodie bags are half the reason I date actors.’
Behind us, Baz slaps Sigourney’s behind and says, ‘Oi!’
Sigourney winks. ‘Just joking, love of my life. You know it’s the sex I’m dating you for.’
‘Too right,’ says Baz, pulling her into a rough hug.
Outside, the night air is warm and fresh, and smells of expensive catering and lavender. Marc and I bid everyone goodnight, and head towards our limousine.
Marc opens the car door for me. ‘I’m glad the Riviera Festival saw what I see in you,’ he says.
‘And what would that be?’ I ask.
‘Extraordinary talent. Truth. Purity. And light.’
‘And what about when you won your award?’ I ask. ‘What did they see in you?’
Marc’s lips tilt into a dangerous smile. ‘I believe they saw my dark side. And enjoyed it. Just like you do.’
The limo takes us to the airport, where we’re reunited with Ivy. Then Tanya boards the private jet with us, and we all fly back to London at gone midnight.
I can barely keep my eyes open on the short flight, and find myself falling asleep on Marc’s shoulder. I’m extremely grateful Tanya is on hand to help with Ivy.
‘It’s fine Soph,’ Tanya insists, as we begin our descent to London. ‘I have good energy reserves. Plus I’ve just drunk a can of Red Bull. I’m totally good to go.’
The moment the plane touches down, I take out my phone and check for messages from Jen. But there are none.
‘I’m really worried about her,’ I tell Marc.
‘Jen can take care of herself,’ says Marc. ‘She’s a tough cookie.’
‘Not as tough as people think,’ I say. ‘And she always answers the phone to me. It’s one of our rules. I need to go see her. What if something’s happened?’
Marc strokes my hair. ‘I’ll have one of my people go over and check she’s safe in her apartment. Will that make you happy?’
‘A bit,’ I say. ‘But I still need to see her.’
‘You’ll see her tomorrow,’ says Marc. ‘You’re exhausted right now. And Jen, if she has any sense, will be asleep. Patience, Miss Blackwell. Keith will drive you into London in the morning.’
Outside Jen’s new office in Piccadilly, black cabs and red buses trundle past.
After so many days at sea, my legs hardly know what to make of London’s still pavements and slow sky.
I call into Jen’s office intercom: ‘Hey. Can I speak to Jen please?’
‘Soph?’ Jen’s voice crackles through the speaker.
‘Hello stranger,’ I call back, relief flooding through my body. I already knew she was safe and sound, because Marc’s security man reported back to us in the early hours of the morning. But to hear her voice … I’m just so glad.
‘Can I come in?’ I ask.
The glass door buzzes open, and I walk into Jen’s flashy reception area, lost amid huge bamboo stalks and orchids. There’s a glass bar on one wall with silver stools underneath, and a seating area with Vogue magazines laid out tastefully on a metal coffee table.
‘Jen?’ I call out.
I hear tip tapping, and see Jen striding towards me, looking fabulous in a light-pink pencil-skirt suit and Chanel scarf.
‘Soph!’ She kisses me on both cheeks. ‘Oh my God, best actress? I am so proud of you. You must be over the moon!’
‘I’m more interested in how you’re doing,’ I say. ‘Why didn’t you answer my calls?’
Jen hesitates. ‘Do you want an espresso or anything? We’ve got this amazing new machine.’
‘Jen.’
Jen click-clacks to the glass bar, fiddling with an espresso machine. ‘I was … I had a lot on yesterday. A lot on.’
‘I was worried about you,’ I say, feeling like the parent of a wayward teenager.
‘Sorry,’ says Jen. ‘Yesterday was … sort of a blur.’ She let’s out a yawn, quickly covering her mouth.
‘We always answer our phones to each other,’ I insist.
‘I know, I know.’ Jen rubs her eyes, and I notice there are grey bags under them. ‘Look – it was a one off. I won’t do it again. Listen, that’s all in the past now. Let’s move forward.’
‘You look tired,’ I say. ‘Is Leo back in London? Have you spoken to him?’
Jen slots a capsule into the espresso machine. ‘I don’t give second chances …’
‘I know you don’t.’
But Jen has a funny little smile on her face.
‘Jen?’ I ask.
‘Of course,’ she says, ‘there’s always a first time.’
My eyes widen. ‘Jen?’
She clicks the espresso machine, and it begi
ns to whir. ‘Oh Soph, what’s happened to me? I used to be so sensible.’
‘Are you giving Leo a second chance?’ I ask, a smile growing.
Jen’s face explodes into a grin. ‘Yes! And … we’re getting married!’ She holds her finger out, and I see a glittering blue diamond. ‘He bought me a new ring and everything. You know, to symbolise a fresh start.’
‘Oh my GOD!’ I shriek. ‘Oh Jen. That’s amazing. But … when did all this happen?’
‘Leo flew back last night. He’d already bought the ring. And we spent all night … reconciling.’
I laugh.
‘And do you know what?’ Jen continues. ‘We’re going to fly out to Vegas, just the two of us. No press. No fuss. Like Leo said, cut out all the nonsense. Make it all about the love. Of course, we know we have work to do. Leo knows this great counsellor and … wait. You’re not hurt that you weren’t a bridesmaid, are you? Because we’re going to have another ceremony—’
‘Not at all,’ I laugh. ‘Oh Jen, that’s fantastic.’
‘I really do love him, you know?’ Jen says, her eyes going soft and dreamy. ‘Do you think that maybe, just maybe, we could live happily ever after?’
I nod emphatically. ‘I do.’
96
The Silver Lotus Flower sparkles on the mantelpiece, held tight in its glass cube.
I love seeing my name inscribed on the glass.
Sophia Rose – Best Actress
Marc slides an arm around my shoulder. ‘You’re rather captivated by that piece of modern art, aren’t you?’
‘Piece of modern art?’ I turn in mock outrage. ‘That award, Mr Blackwell, is the highlight of my acting career.’
He smiles. ‘So far.’
‘So far.’
I hear a thump, thump upstairs and look up. ‘Uh oh. What’s Michael doing with Ivy now? Jumping around the bedroom with her?’
‘He’s teaching her to be a terror,’ says Marc, glancing fondly at the ceiling. ‘I should never have agreed to these visits.’
I put my arms around his neck. ‘I’m glad you changed your mind.’
‘You were very persuasive.’ His stern, blue eyes bear down on me. ‘This seems to be the year for second chances, doesn’t it?’
‘It certainly is.’ I smile up at him. ‘And learning from mistakes.’
‘On the subject of learning, isn’t it time for our next lesson?’ says Marc, his hands coming to my waist. ‘Or are you above tuition, now you’ve won yourself a Silver Lotus?’
‘Never.’
Marc fixes me with dangerous eyes. ‘How do you like your new classroom?’
I look across the garden at the small theatre Marc built by my favourite oak tree.
The classroom is totally private, looking out onto fields and farmland. No one can see what we get up to in there. Which is just how we like it.
‘I love it,’ I tell Marc. ‘But you already know that.’
‘Of course, you can always return to Ivy College,’ says Marc, his eyes darkening. ‘Should you ever wish to become more adventurous …’
‘I think we’ve been quite adventurous already,’ I reply, thinking of the wide away of equipment in our small theatre.
Ropes. Handcuffs. Canes.
Marc certainly takes his role as teacher seriously.
‘Come along, Mrs Blackwell,’ says Marc. ‘Time for class. There’s so much you still have to learn.’
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