I pick up the phone straight away and call Sophie's mobile. The phone goes to the standard answerphone message that I've heard so many times I know it off by heart. 'Welcome to Tesco mobile . . .' Fuck. I feel tears start to run down my face. I'm not normally so pathetic but right now I feel awful. I reach out for the Yellow Pages, and randomly pick out a carpenter, summoning him to this house as soon as possible. It's clearly wholly inappropriate to invite a bloody carpenter whom I know nothing about into the private home of one of the world's richest and most famous actors. But the fact that I have a desk smashed to pieces and in desperate need of fixing before Rufus comes back tomorrow night has assumed a far greater importance in my mind than home security.
It turns out the carpenter can't come till the following morning . . . the day of Rufus's return. Bollocks.
'If I pay you double, can you come first thing?' I ask, plaintively.
'Not till I've finished a job in Putney.'
Double bollocks.
It's midday, after another sleepless night, and the carpenter has just turned up. He's quite handsome actually, in a rugged and dishevelled sort of way – just the type I'd have gone for before Rufus came wafting into my life. I had a lot of boyfriends before Rufus. Well, not boyfriends as such, it might be more realistic to describe them as boys who fancied me. I used to get asked out a lot but never met anyone special, you know. Never met anyone I really wanted to get all dressed up for . . . until Rufus swept me off my feet, some eight months and half a lifetime ago.
I fell in love with Rufus as soon as I saw him. I know that sounds daft but I did. The day I met him something changed in me; the world tilted on its axis and I knew nothing would ever be quite the same again. If that's not love, then what is? It was – boom – heart given away. I just adored him from day one, and whatever happens I know I will until I die. He's perfect. I love being with him, seeing him and talking to him. In fact, the only good thing about these drugs keeping me awake all night is that I get to talk to Rufus in LA in the small hours of the morning.
I spoke to Rufus loads last night; we were chatting away for ages because it was the last time we'd be able to speak before his arrival back at Heathrow.
'I'll try calling you from the plane,' he said, as only a man who flies first class everywhere could. 'But I've got three on-board business meetings booked, so it might be difficult to find the time.'
I told Rufus how much fun I'd been having (lie) but how much I was looking forward to him coming back (oh, so true). I told him I'd lost weight. Nearly a stone! He didn't react with the level of enthusiasm I was hoping for given that Elody has convinced me that it was my excess weight standing between me and a lifetime in paradise with him.
'Don't go dieting for me; I love you just the way you are. As far as I'm concerned, you're absolutely perfect.'
'God I miss you,' I said and, if Rufus were any boyfriend I've ever been out with before, there'd have been a long silence, followed by, 'Listen, I have to go; I'm meeting Darren/Mike/Pete/Dyllis (delete as applicable) in the pub in five minutes, we're going to get shit-faced.' But, no. This is Rufus, so he said: 'Kelly, I've never missed anyone as much as I've missed you. I adore you. I can't wait to see you. To be honest, I've got something important to say.'
I spent a moment in a mild panic about the fact that the 'something' might be his need to address me on the subject of me, randomly and without a shadow of proof, searching through every item of his clothing and paperwork in the search for evidence of infidelity. Or wanting to talk to me about the fact that I smashed up his desk with an unimaginably expensive and unique jewelled dagger handmade on the thighs of virgins in India . . . or something. Or, indeed, that I've organised for a carpenter to come round without knowing anything about the carpentry firm and thus prejudiced our security and safety. But, no, Rufus merely repeated that he loved me more than he'd ever loved anyone and that what he had to say would have to wait until he was back. Then he left to get his flight.
The carpenter is now in the house walking around, taking in the undeniable magnificence of the place while trying to look cool, calm and relaxed, as if he really hasn't noticed its splendour. He's clearly awe-struck by the magnificence of it all. I guess I forget just how lucky I am to live in a place like this. I tend to think of it as a prison these days; what with the paparazzi keeping me locked inside, and my friends no longer wanting to see me, and me not being able to hold down the most basic of jobs (I'm not bitter at all; hell no, not bitter in the least).
'I had a bit of an accident with this . . .' I tell the carpenter. His name's Colin. Colin the Carpenter. That's nice. I always have a particular fondness for people whose names and job titles combine to make them sound like a character from Noddy.
I indicate towards the desk drawer and Colin peers inside.
'It looks OK to me,' he says.
'No, inside the drawer,' I explain. 'There's a little drawer in the main one that's all splintered. You'll have to look right inside the drawer to see it.'
He peers in and sees the damage. 'No problem,' he says. 'I'll have it fixed in no time.'
Thank God.
'It needs to look the same,' I plead. 'You know, as if no damage has been done.'
'I'll do my best,' he says, looking up at me. He sees my worried face. 'Is everything OK?' he asks, warmly. 'You seem agitated.'
'No, I'm fine. As long as I can get this drawer mended, everything will be fine.'
'Good,' he says. 'Only I wondered, because of the woman waiting in the car outside. She looked angry.'
'What woman?'
The carpenter has pulled the drawer out and is matching slivers of wood to it as we speak.
'She's outside. Just sitting there. Take a look.'
I peer through the window, and see Elody in the back of the car, with Henry at the wheel. She's staring ahead, motionless, and he's looking down at the steering wheel as if he doesn't know quite what to do. What the hell does she want now?
'It's nothing,' I tell my carpenter friend. He's pulled out the drawer completely and is fashioning a new one out of matching wood.
'I'll call you when I've finished,' he says. 'There's no need for you to sit here if you don't want to.'
I hear the doorbell ringing in the distance and know that it will be Elody. Perhaps she saw me looking at her through the window? Perhaps she's decided to return my letters to me?
The carpenter is sanding, sawing and slicing through wood and looks for all the world like a decent, honourable man – grafting away before us. I'm sure he's perfectly trustworthy, so I leave him to it as I head off to answer the door.
'Just call me if you need me,' I say.
I hear the shuffle of Pamela's sensible working shoes as the housekeeper heads for the door. I know that if she answers, Elody will barge past her and be in the house and getting her latest fix of 'Kelly's wardrobe problems' before I can stop her.
'I'll get it,' I say, skipping down the stairs, past Pam, as if I have not a care in the world. I swing open the door and come face to face with Elody.
'Your outfit's all wrong,' she says. 'Dahling, you look shameful. The sooner that weight falls off the better. Come here let me kiss you. My goodness, you have no make-up on. What? Why would you do that? What were you thinking? Maybe I'll kiss you when you've taken the time to put some make-up on.'
Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . how have I put up with this for three weeks? I can't do it any more.
'You are still taking the diet pills, aren't you?' she says, looking me up and down once again. The deeply shameful thing is that I am still taking them. I'm kind of hell-bent on losing weight because somewhere deep within me I'm convinced that this will make me more attractive to Rufus. I know that this is just nonsense I've absorbed from Elody, and the reality is that Rufus has told me time and again that he likes me curvy, but it's difficult to shift thoughts like that from your mind once they're lodged there, especially when you're in the sort of vulnerable position that I was in when I first came s
taggering and stumbling into this celebrity world. I also think there's a part of me that wants Elody's approval, which angers me. Why do I want her bloody approval? I don't need her approval.
'You can't come in. I'm busy,' I say. Then I add: 'Sorry,' because I hate having rows like this.
'What do you mean, I can't come in?' she says. 'I have your letters. Your precious letters that you were so desperate for. Anyway, it's not your house. I'll come in if I want to come in. It's Rufus's house and I'm always welcome here.' Elody's voice is laced with a truckload of aggression. 'You're the outsider here, you're the one who doesn't fit in, not me.'
'What? This is my home, Elody.'
'You have let me down. I have devoted weeks of my time to fixing you up and look at you. You are still fat and blubbery, your clothes cannot hang right when you have fat where there should be bones. You are making a fool of me. How can we be friends? How can this work properly? Do you not own a mirror of any kind?'
I say goodbye and shut the door. I don't need any more abuse from anyone, certainly not from Elody. I don't think I've ever done anything quite as bold in my whole life before, as shutting the door in someone's face. I'm standing there in a state of semi shock when there's an almighty clattering on the door: fists banging, a voice shouting and even kicking. I hear the staff behind me rush to see what's going on, and I realise I can't leave her out there. I open the door and Elody reaches in and grabs my hair. My first thought is that she's going to pull out the scrunchie and restyle it, but no . . . she drags me outside by my hair, pulling me so fast that I trip over the step and fall to my knees on the gravel.
'You bitch!' she cries, kicking me in the side of my thigh. 'You absolute evil bitch.'
'Get off me, get off me.'
I look up, and Henry is attempting to pull Elody away as she continues to lash out at me and at the ageing driver.
'I wanted you to be my friend. I needed you to be my friend,' she cries.
'I have been your friend,' I say to her, as I hold my hair protectively against any further assaults. 'But you're not treating me like friends treat each other.'
'Oh what? Like these friends?' cries Elody, tipping a pile of letters onto the gravel. All of them are penned in the familiar writing of Sophie and Mandy.
'Where have these come from?' I ask.
'Letters come every day,' she responds dismissively, with a shrug of her skinny, little shoulders. 'Every day these girls are writing or turning up at the gates and demanding to be let in to see you. Always calling, writing and turning up. Do they not realise you've moved on?'
Oh shit. All this time I thought the girls had forgotten about me and weren't bothered about staying in touch, and they were trying to reach me.
As I scramble around on the ground for the letters, Henry bundles Elody into the car. She looks back at me, tears staining her face, her hair flying everywhere. She looks scared and vulnerable and for the first time I notice that she's actually very pretty beneath her armour. 'You've got everything,' she shouts, as Henry starts up the engine. 'I wish I were you; I wish someone loved me. I wish Jon were here. He died two years ago today. Two years . . .' She screams through the open window as the car sets off on its way, 'I wish Jon were here.'
Pamela comes running out across the gravel and helps me to my feet.
'Are you OK?' she asks kindly. 'You aren't hurt are you? Here, let me help you. Gosh after all you've done for that woman she does this to you. You were so kind to her when everyone else refused to talk to her. Honestly.'
She helps me inside as the carpenter comes jogging down the stairs.
'Everything all right?' he asks. 'I heard the fight.'
'Yes, fine,' I say. I've now got Colin the carpenter, Pamela and two of the security guys who have arrived on the scene to check everything's OK standing round me.
'I'm fine, honestly. Just fine,' I keep reiterating.
'Where's she gone now?' the security guards ask, adding: 'Shall we go after her? None of us will have her treating our Kelly like that.'
'Everything's fine,' I reiterate. I don't want to make a big fuss out of this, and sending the security guards after her or phoning the police, as Pamela suggests, won't help at all. In my mind I keep seeing Elody's desperately sad and lonely face, the smudged make-up and the cries for help. I know that I don't want Elody here any more and, once Henry gets back, I'll tell him that he mustn't drive her around from now on. It's not that I wish her any harm but I think she needs more help than I can give her. Professional help, perhaps? Once things have calmed down, and I get the opportunity to talk to her rationally, I'll try to persuade her to talk to someone who can help.
'Right then, I'm done,' says the carpenter. I've been so busy watching the space from which the car departed five minutes ago that I'd forgotten he was there at all.
'Sorry. I was miles away,' I say.
'I just wanted to say that it's all fixed. No one will ever know it's been touched. Would you like to come and check?'
You know I really can't be arsed. I'm just sick of all this now. I can see Pamela looking at me quizzically.
'Don't worry, I'm sure it's perfect,' I tell him, and I smile at Pamela to tell her that everything's OK.
'Just one thing. This was inside it . . .' he says, and he hands me a small key and a bracelet with two large diamond covered stars on it. The bracelet is made of thick platinum but it's tiny; it would only fit round the smallest of wrists. There's no doubt that this bracelet was made to match Elody's necklace. Fucking hell.
'Shall I invoice you for the work?' says the carpenter.
'Yes,' I mutter, as we shake hands. In my left hand I'm holding the bracelet and the small key.
'It's like paradise here,' says the carpenter as he steps out of the front door.
'Sure is,' I say, but, you know, I'm not so sure.
Chapter 16
I feel like an absolute shit. It's official. The letters from the girls are unbelievably warm and loving. I've spent hours just reading and rereading them, bursting into tears time and again as I'm reminded of what utterly fantastic friends I have. Christ. They say that they understand how busy I must be, but that they really hope we can all stay mates because they miss me so much. Bloody hell. If only they knew how much I'd missed them these past few weeks; I've been craving their company every day.
I desperately want to talk to them, but I still can't get hold of them. Sophie's mobile is never on, the home phone line just rings out, and I know they're both off work this afternoon because it's Thursday, so there's no point in leaving messages there.
As I pace around the sitting room, thinking about what to do next, there's a loud bang outside forcing my knees to buckle beneath me in fear. Fuck. What is it? Please tell me it's not Elody come back to attack me Oh God that woman scares me. What if she's come back clutching a hammer? Or an ice pick? Ah. She might have a gun! I need to get out of here. Fuck. I want to see the girls.
I peer out of the window to see what the sound is. Thank God. It's just Henry, back from dropping Elody off. I smile at him, grinning from ear to ear and forcing him to look at me quizzically.
'Thank God it's you,' I explain. 'I thought it might be Elody, back to beat me up.'
'No, she won't be back,' he reassures me, explaining that he took her to the Royal Institute of Fashion. I know Elody loves that place. It's where she first bumped into Jon many years ago, and where she goes to seek solace and to feel close to him whenever she's feeling low. With a bit of luck, she'll calm down after a few hours in there, and leave me alone.
'She seemed more relaxed when we got there,' confirms Henry. 'It's like she was almost in a trance when she drifted out of the car and into the building. Like a dream. I said goodbye and told her to take care but she didn't hear me. Most odd.'
'Well, thanks for taking her Henry.'
'You might be the only person in the world who ever says thank you to the staff here you know. We've all become very fond of you.'
'Thanks, Henry,
that means a lot to me,' I say. Then I give him the news that I notice is very gratefully received; he won't be driving Elody around any more. 'I need you to do me a favour though,' I say, and he smiles and cocks his hat.
'That's what I'm here for, ma'am.'
'I need to go back to my old flat in Twickenham to see the girls. Do you remember where the flat is?'
'Ooooo . . . I'm sure I'll remember it when we get there,' he says. 'Is it in the town centre?'
'Yes. You know that terrible lap-dancing club?'
'Yes,' he says brightly, then changes his mind when he realises how that must sound. 'Well, I don't know it, but I know where it is. Some friends mentioned it once.'
It's funny when we stop outside the old flat. Life's changed so much since I was last here. I'm all dressed up in a gorgeous emerald green dress, fabulous gold earrings and bangles. I need to be dressed up so Henry can take me straight to the airport to meet Rufus afterwards, but I'm worried that the way I'm dressed is almost a barrier, a hurdle between my old life and my new one. I hope the girls don't think I've dressed up on purpose, just to make them look bad by comparison.
Henry pulls up outside and I ask him whether he'll come and collect me around 7.30 pm to take me to the airport.
'So you won't need me before then?' he asks.
'Nope.'
'And Elody can't use me.'
'Nope.'
'And Rufus is abroad.'
'He is,' I say.
'How nice,' says Henry with a grin. 'Then I'll go and spend a few hours on my allotment.'
In the freezing cold? When it's getting dark? Gardeners are mad. I must remember to introduce Henry to Frank from Hampton Court. They'd get on very well . . . both loonies when it comes to gardening!
I walk purposefully towards the door, pleased that I've allowed Rufus's faithful driver the time to tend to his cabbages. It's 4 pm. The girls have definitely had enough time to get home from work, and surely it's too early for them to be in the pub. There's every chance that they'll be in. I'm nervous as hell. If they're not here, I'm going to find them. I'll tour the pubs and shops of south-west London until I stumble upon them. I have to see them before going to the airport and there's no way I'm going back to that house before Rufus gets home. I ring the bell.
Celebrity Bride Page 18