‘I bet.’
‘How old are they?’ I ask.
‘Jasmine is four, she’s the oldest, and little Noah is one and a half.’ He pulls out his iPhone and brings up an image of a beautiful smiling woman with dark brown corkscrew hair (I’m guessing she’s Cherise), awash in sunshine with her arms draped around the shoulders of two adorable dark-haired children. The girl is wearing a pink tutu and wellies and has her face pressed up against her mother’s, while Noah, the little boy, is grinning at the camera and holding out a fluffy brown teddy bear. It’s such a loving photo. They all look incredibly happy and picture perfect.
‘They’re so cute,’ I gush, peering closer at the screen. ‘Still babies, really.’
‘You say that, but as soon as they’re out of the Babygro stage the Mrs is on about expanding the brood.’
‘Already?’ asks Billy, his eyes wide.
‘I’m telling ya, mate, they’re addictive little mites.’ Johnny shoots an infectious grin at the pair of us.
I like him. Like Billy, Johnny gives off this energy that’s endearing, intriguing and electric. Their auras are so inviting and charismatic. I momentarily find myself wondering whether all successful Hollywood actors are like them, but then remember Heidi Black (Billy’s bitch of an ex) and decide it must be quite a mixed bag. Nonetheless, it appeases my worrying heart to know Billy has good influences over here and that there are great people mixed in with the madness.
9
We manage to talk to Johnny Trew for a good half hour before we’re interrupted. I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner, although I assume everyone is just warming themselves up and letting the drinks flow first, knowing that Billy will be available to pounce on all night.
We’re just about to head over to grab a bite to eat from the buffet table, looking for something more substantial than the delicate canapés, when Richard stops us.
‘Billy, Sophie!’ he says, his arms open wide to engulf the two of us at once. I’m surprised to be included in the warm welcome but am chuffed that he’s remembered my name. ‘Great to see you both again. I’d love you to meet Ralph,’ he says, his hand moving backwards to find the shoulder of the man he was standing alongside just moments before. ‘He’s working with me on the new project I was telling you about. You’ve heard of Ralph Joplin, I take it?’
‘Of course I have,’ Billy gushes, as the willowy frame of a clean-shaven, crisp yet tortured looking soul steps forward, holding out a hand for Billy to shake before offering it to me.
While this is happening, I glance over Richard’s shoulder and spot Julie with another group of guests, although she’s not paying them any real attention. It’s clear she’s focused on watching the encounter from over the top of her champagne flute instead. Her eyes are squinting, as though she’s desperate to know what’s going on. Despite not knowing, the sides of her lips curl up ever so slightly – something I notice with interest. When she spots me looking at her, that expression broadens into a grin before she turns and answers a question the lady to her left has asked.
‘It’s such a pleasure to meet you,’ says Billy, grinning at Richard and Ralph, while looking a little caught off guard. ‘I actually watched Deserted on the way over here, didn’t I, Sophie? Couldn’t stop banging on about it,’ he laughs, without needing me to verify anything.
It doesn’t take me long to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Ralph’s the director of the moment. The one with the Oscar. No wonder Billy seems so in awe of the weathered-looking stranger. Funnily enough, I’ve never really seen this side of my unflappable partner, usually it’s him sending others into a flap.
‘What a film,’ Richard nods, looking pleased with himself as he glances between the two men.
‘So, you’re directing Richard’s next project?’ Billy asks, swallowing a gulp of liquid from his glass (straight after it’s been refilled by a waiter), clearly eager to find out more now that the seed of intrigue has been well and truly planted.
‘That I am,’ says Ralph, giving Richard a respectful nod. ‘You’ll have heard nothing about it yet as we’ve kept a lot of it under wraps, but it’s the only project I’ve felt this hungry and crazy for since Deserted.’
‘Really?’ Billy asks, clearly drawn in deeper.
‘Totally. I’ve just got this feeling under my skin that won’t go away … it’s so intoxicating it keeps me up at night.’
‘Explains those dark bags under your eyes,’ Richard says above a whisper, whilst nudging me on the arm.
‘Quite,’ sighs Ralph, drawing his hand up over his forehead and running his fingers through his unruly hair. ‘I don’t think you’ll be complaining about them when people are congratulating you on the best film you’ve ever produced, though.’
‘That’s what you’ll find over here, Sophie. Everyone is just far too modest,’ laughs Richard, unable to hide the excitement from his own face.
‘Welcome to Hollywood,’ Ralph fires back, his eyebrows slightly raised. ‘But unlike some, I’m not promising a load of hot air,’ he says to Richard, not caring that me and Billy are watching them, listening to their every word. If anything, it goads him on further. ‘This isn’t just going to be a film that gets a few heads turning. It’s going to be the film of the century. The highlight of both of our careers.’
‘And I thought it was my job to sell it. Looks like you’re doing OK with that one yourself. Wouldn’t you say so?’ Richard asks Billy.
‘I’d say …’ Billy agrees, his head bobbing up and down eagerly. ‘You’ve certainly got me interested.’
A pregnant silence hangs over our little group as I get the impression Billy has said exactly what the two men wanted to hear.
Richard glances around the room, winking at a few familiar faces, Ralph stares into his empty glass before a waiter approaches to refill it with fresh bubbles, and Billy seems in a total daze. I just stare at the three of them, wondering what’s going to be said next, my mind starting to predict where the conversation is leading and already feeling nervous over its outcome.
‘How are you finding England?’ Ralph asks, surprising me by abruptly changing the subject.
‘Beautiful as ever,’ Billy beams, winking at me. ‘It’s home.’
‘Nowhere like England at Christmas time. So picturesque,’ says Richard, his eyes widening in delight. ‘Spent many Christmases there with relatives growing up – mince pies, lots of holly and mountains of snow.’
‘Sadly, there was no snow this year, though,’ I chime in, enjoying his fond description.
‘Shame,’ says Ralph, smiling kindly at me. There’s another pause. With an audible intake of breath he turns to Billy in what can only be described as a ‘drum roll’ moment. ‘You know, we’ve been trying to get hold of you for quite some time.’
‘Really?’ Billy replies, unable to hide his delight.
‘Eesh, I told you, the kid’s not interested,’ Richard says with a frown as he rolls his eyes for Billy’s benefit and waves his hand around as though getting Ralph to back off.
It’s a gesture I, sadly, don’t believe as it’s practically identical to what we saw Julie do to Richard the first night we met him. But Billy laps it up anyway – keen to hear more.
‘I didn’t know that. I don’t actually have a manager at the moment,’ he shares, making me think back to his smarmy ex-manager Paul, who used to permanently undermine me and make me feel like utter crap. The worst bit was that it was usually done with a smile and Billy used to think he was nothing but nice. In fact, he idolized the horrible man.
Thankfully for me, Paul showed his true colours to Billy when he put his foot down about a few things he was trying to make him do career-wise, like continue filming with his ex, Heidi Black, who very nearly tore us apart by setting Billy up and selling a story on their fake reconciliation to the press. It still makes me fume just thinking about it. During that turbulent time, Paul threw some pretty big verbal grenades that I’m glad to say were unforgivable, thus ending the
ir working relationship and thankfully removing Paul from our lives.
‘I split from Paul a few months back,’ shrugs Billy, still unable to hide the hurt from his eyes. I know how highly he values trust in the people he works with and it’s clear to see he’s still affected by the betrayal.
‘Oh, we knew you weren’t with him any longer. Must say, I was quite pleased about that one – he was a nightmare to negotiate with,’ says Richard, slowly shaking his head. ‘I mean, I know you deserve the best, but what a terror.’
‘We contacted your agent, though,’ Ralph says, glancing at Richard to check what he’s saying is right and to move the conversation away from bad-mouthing Paul – quite right, as I’m guessing it’s always better to err on the side of caution in the entertainment business. You never know who’s going to be the next flavour of the month, or who someone’s going to be relaying your words to.
‘I’ve told my agent not to contact me,’ Billy reveals.
‘So I heard,’ Ralph says, raising his eyebrows. ‘Multiple times.’
‘Now they are a loyal bunch,’ approves Richard. ‘Nothing I said would make them budge and pick up the bloody phone to you. Annoying for us, but great for you lapping up the quiet life with Sophie …’
‘I guess I was quite firm about wanting time off,’ Billy laughs, looking a bit sheepish.
‘Well, I didn’t have your English number, so I ended up doing the obvious thing and phoned your mother!’ grins Richard.
‘My mum?’ asks Billy, looking confused as he glances over at her.
Julie is in a throng of yet another group of people, playing the role of hostess brilliantly as she makes her guests giggle at some tale she’s sharing.
‘She didn’t say anything …’ Billy continues.
‘Of course not. She reiterated your agent’s stance on things and said you weren’t to be bothered,’ Richard winks.
‘Right,’ nods Billy. ‘And then she invited you over here tonight?’
Richard shrugs, unable to remove the grin from his face. ‘We’re old mates. New Year should always be spent with the mates that you want to carry through with you into the next year. Metaphorically and literally.’
‘Look, I’m not expecting you to drop everything without knowing more,’ says Ralph, taking control of the conversation while holding his hands to his chest in an earnest manner. ‘I’ve left a script with your housekeeper. Take a look and give me a call when you’re done.’
Despite knowing he’s been ambushed and that tonight has probably all been a ruse to make this meeting occur, Billy seems flattered as he shakes his head with a smile.
‘No pressure,’ says Richard, patting him on the back. ‘Just read it.’
‘I will,’ Billy promises.
‘You too, Sophie,’ suggests Ralph.
‘Oh?’
‘Why not? It’s always good to keep everyone in the loop. I think you’d be a good ally,’ he smiles kindly. ‘Right, we should be off,’ he says, clapping his hands together and widening his eyes at Richard.
‘Already?’ asks Billy.
‘You’re not staying for the countdown?’ I ask, sure that it’s the most important part of New Year’s Eve.
‘Afraid not,’ smiles Ralph without explanation.
‘You don’t want us overstaying our welcome. Everyone else will do that,’ adds Richard, raising an eyebrow at the rest of the room in a knowing way.
‘Very true,’ Billy laughs.
After several handshakes and hugs the two leave us in the middle of the party to mull over what’s been said.
Billy looks utterly bewildered.
‘Did that actually just happen?’ he sighs.
‘I think so,’ I say, biting my lip.
‘Madness,’ he nods. ‘I don’t know what to make of it all.’
I find myself giving Billy a pensive smile – pensive because I don’t really know how to digest the previous conversation either. We’ve both become so used to our cosy little life in Rosefont Hill, even though it’s only been a few months. It’s mindboggling to think that one little conversation with someone who’s practically a stranger could turn that on its head and potentially completely change the life we’ve been living. Obviously, we don’t know any of the facts about the project, like where it’s being filmed or how long it could take, and Billy hasn’t even read the script yet (he could hate it), but the prospect of there being something on the horizon that could alter our lives so dramatically is … unsettling.
Before either of us manages to digest what could potentially lie before us, we’re accosted by a new group of people – this time friends of Julie and Clive. Thoughts of the conversation get pushed to the backs of our minds for the time being. Although I do notice that Billy seems brighter than he did at the start of the night. He seems more confident, and happier to be there, as though someone has just switched on a light within him and given him a confidence boost.
As though someone has just given him purpose and belief.
The night whizzes by as we bounce from conversation to conversation and greet everyone who’s come along to join in the celebrations. Unsurprisingly, the Buskin clan seem to be rather good at mingling. I watch as each of them work the room and schmooze their way around. Julie is clearly a pro at hosting parties like these and looks more radiant than ever, the twins stay side by side, elegantly floating in and out of conversations, and Clive just seems happy to have a cold bottle of beer in his hand and talk to whoever he ends up next to.
The only one who seems slightly less interested in keeping it up for the whole night is Lauren. Julie has allowed her to ask her own friends along, so she doesn’t overly bother with the rest of the guests after a polite amount of mingling early on. I find myself rather jealous when I spot her curled up in a corner with a couple of mates, nursing a glass of wine while looking out at the glorious view of the city that’s lit up below. Being chilled and on the periphery of a party is far more me (actually, not being at a party at all is far more me).
Before we know it our glasses are being topped up yet again, and little plastic party poppers (the sort I remember from when I was growing up, although a bit more bling and upmarket) are being thrust into our hands, getting us ready for the countdown.
‘Everyone got some bubbles?’ calls out Julie, looking like she’s had her fair share of them already.
Clive puts his arm gently around his wife’s waist and pulls her into him, kissing the top of her head as she giggles like one of the girls.
Their intimacy makes me think of my own mum and dad as an image of them doing the same many years ago flashes before me. My dad might be gone, but he’s certainly not forgotten. Just like with Molly, thoughts of him pop up when I least expect them – catching me off guard but warming my heart at the same time, ensuring that he still lives on despite his absence.
I find myself wondering what Mum is up to right that second. Probably snuggled up in bed with Colin, thanks to the time difference. She usually wouldn’t be too fussed about seeing the New Year in, but I know the pair of them promised Aaron and Charlotte that they could stay up and have a proper midnight feast with the mountains of treats left over from Christmas (Colin went overboard buying the goodies). I’ve no doubt they’ve remained in their magical cocoon since getting engaged too, still giddy with the promises the new year is bringing with it.
‘You know what Richard said earlier?’ Billy asks, draping an arm across my shoulder and rubbing the tip of his nose against my loose hair.
‘Which bit?’ I ask, my insides suddenly lurching forwards in suspense.
‘About New Year?’ he whispers, kissing my cheek. ‘And spending it with people you want to take through with you into the year ahead?’
‘It was something like that,’ I laugh softly, feeling relieved that the conversation isn’t going elsewhere.
‘Well, I’m going to have you by my side every single New Year from now on – because I don’t want a single year to go by without you in it.�
��
‘Year?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. ‘So as long as you see me once every year you’ll be happy?’
‘Month, week, day, hour, minute, second – I want them all to be spent with you, baby …’ he whispers, his hand moving to tilt my chin upwards so that his lips can find mine. ‘You’re my forever Sophie May. My always. I’ll be happy as long as I have you by my side.’
It’s a lovely thought.
It’s the perfect plan.
But as the crowd around us starts counting down to the start of a New Year and letting off their poppers while cheering with drunken merriment, I can’t ignore a nagging worry that this is all too good to be true and our happy little bubble is about to dramatically burst …
10
By the time we get to bed that night, I’ve almost forgotten our earlier chat with Ralph and Richard. It’s so late and my body is utterly knackered, and as soon as we climb under Billy’s duvet I instantly fall fast asleep.
Hours later (though it feels like minutes) I force my heavy eyelids open, screwing my face up in disgust as my head pounds. I feel like I’m lying on a bed of hard stone, rather than the fluffy white-feathered pillow I know Dee would have spent ages plumping up to perfection.
‘Ouch,’ I groan, as I painfully twist round to look across the bed at Billy, who disappointingly looks rested and handsome, sitting propped up and looking at his phone. Clearly he’s not feeling the same way I do.
‘Head?’
‘Why do people do this to themselves?’ I cry, covering my face with my hands and peering at him through my splayed fingers. ‘I didn’t even think I’d drunk that much. I had the same glass all night …’
‘The same glass that kept magically getting topped up?’ he asks with a grin, putting his phone down by his side and leaning over to get a better view of my scrunched-up face. ‘Those waiters are like ninjas. You think you’re on top of how much you’ve drunk, but really they’re dodging and scheming their goods into your glass with stealthy perfection.’
Always With Love Page 7