Public Property

by Mandy Baggot

  Mandy Baggot lives in leafy Wiltshire and has Sting as a neighbour. She lives with her husband, two daughters and two cats (Kravitz and Springsteen). When she isn’t writing she loves to sing and do Lady Gaga impressions (check out You Tube).

  In 2012, Mandy won the Innovation in Romantic Fiction award at the UK’s Festival of Romance. Her novel Strings Attached was also short listed for the Best Author Published Read.

  Praise for Mandy Baggot

  I've just read your book and thought it was excellent! It had a real ‘feel good’ factor about it. (Excess All Areas)

  I was entertained by the book from beginning to end and when I finished reading it, I felt the same satisfied feeling I have after watching a good film. (Breaking the Ice)

  The book takes a thorough look at relationships, love, commitment and honesty and all the complicated baggage that comes with the territory. It is chick-lit to its fingertips! (Knowing Me Knowing You)

  One

  Where were her pants? It was Wednesday and ‘Wild Wednesday’ pants had a picture of a cowgirl waving a lasso on the front of them. Freya Johnson rifled through the top drawer of the wooden dresser, continuing the search. She had found ‘Sexy Sunday’ and ‘Funky Friday’ but no ‘Wild Wednesday’. She really didn’t have time for this pants dilemma today. She sighed, gave up the search and opted for a plain black pair.

  ‘Hey, is it not “Wild Wednesday”?’ her fiancé, Nicholas Kaden remarked. He entered their bedroom and playfully hit her behind with the towel he had been using to dry his hair. He was fresh from the shower and still wet. Freya licked her lips and then restored the frown to her face.

  ‘Have you seen them? Has Willis been through my knicker drawer again?’

  Willis was their black and white cat. He liked weird stuff.

  ‘Hmm, maybe. Did you never think that Willis and I might be in league together? A pact to ensure you’re panty-less for longer?’ Nicholas asked her. He was grinning. Here they called it a ‘shit-eating’ grin. Back in the UK she’d called it a smug-arse-face. He still managed to look gorgeous.

  ‘I could believe that of you but not of sweet little Willis,’ Freya responded as she put a cream short-sleeved top over her head and picked up a pair of black trousers from the floor.

  ‘Sweet little Willis? The same cat who, when he isn’t doing his business in my shoes, is scratching the hell out of the sofa,’ Nicholas reminded her as he continued to dry himself off.

  ‘He’s just adjusting, you know, marking his territory. A bit like we did when we first arrived here,’ Freya spoke, smiling. They’d just about marked every room. In fact they’d broken the coffee table.

  ‘I don’t remember crapping in anyone’s shoes.’

  ‘You really don’t remember the house-warming party, do you?’ Freya said, running a brush through her blonde hair and checking her reflection in the mirror.

  ‘I remember you trying to get all our neighbours to play drinking games with you.’

  ‘But it wasn’t me who suggested playing naked “Twister”. That was Brian and he’s not going to be invited to the next gathering.’

  Nicholas laughed.

  ‘I’ve got Sadie Fox coming to see me today,’ Freya told him as she began to search around the bedroom for her shoes.

  ‘For a shoot?’

  ‘No, not yet. She wants to talk first, tell me in great detail how she likes things done. How did she put it? What she expects from her photographers,’ Freya replied.

  ‘Yeah well, don’t let her boss you around. She isn’t the only fashion designer interested in your work. You’re good and if she doesn’t realise then it’s her loss,’ Nicholas said. He chose a shirt from the wardrobe.

  ‘Boss me around? Do you really think she could?’ Freya questioned, finding one of her shoes under the bed.

  ‘No, I guess you’re right, forget I said anything.’

  ‘So, what are you doing today? Another day sat on the sofa calling it work?’ Freya asked him.

  ‘Hey, it is working. I was reading through a script,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Hey it is working, I was reading through a script. Who are you trying to kid? Sitting watching the Hallmark channel with a jug of lemonade and a plate of nachos is not working,’ Freya said, laughing.

  ‘You’re just jealous,’ Nicholas said. He smiled, a nice one, not the smug-arse-face.

  ‘Yes I am.’

  ‘Well, this morning I’m going to see Mark Phillips about the autobiography. Then I was planning to go for a run because last night someone persuaded me to take a shower with them, instead of working out. I’ll need to do double today. Then I was going to sit and watch the Hallmark channel and read through the script,’ he said.

  ‘Is sex not a work out?’ Freya asked him, a grin on her face.

  ‘Last night probably was,’ he admitted, nodding.

  ‘So, you’re still undecided about the film then,” Freya said, locating her other shoe under a pile of towels on the floor.

  ‘Yeah, still undecided.’

  Freya watched him pull on a pair of blue jeans. It was little times like these she thanked the Lord for him.

  ‘How much sex, violence and foul language in the script?’ she asked.

  ‘Um minimal sex, a couple of F-words, but a reasonable amount of violence.’

  ‘I’m surprised they haven’t upped the nudity, seeing as you aren’t opposed to getting it all out on camera,’ Freya said, giggling.

  ‘I don’t get it out for just anyone you know,’ he insisted.

  ‘No?’ she asked, moving across the room towards him.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I think you should go back to them and say you want at least ten more butt scenes. That would be what I’d want out of a movie,’ Freya told him.

  She stopped him from buttoning up his shirt and smoothed her hands over his stomach, moving them up to his chest.

  ‘It would, would it?’ he responded, pulling her top upwards.

  ‘Hmm…and...maybe not!’

  She let him go and bounded out of the bedroom.

  ‘Hey! Come back here! There are names for women like you,’ Nicholas called out, chasing her onto the landing.

  Freya screamed and hurried down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

  ‘Come here, you tease,’ he ordered as he followed her, at speed, around the breakfast bar and back out of the kitchen, down the hallway towards the front door.

  ‘Stop right there or I open the front door. It’s freezing and Donny’s there and Kevin and two other faces I don’t recognise,’ Freya threatened, referring to the photographers outside their home.

  ‘I’m not the one who’s going to have my clothes ripped off,’ Nicholas warned, pushing her against the door and kissing her neck.

  ‘Unbolting the door right now. It’s going to be the centre spread in Shooting Stars magazine,’ Freya said, reaching up to pull the chain off the door latch.

  ‘OK, OK, you win,’ Nicholas conceded, stepping back from her with a sigh.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’d love nothing more than to have you out of those jeans, but I can’t be late this morning,’ Freya reminded him.

  ‘I know, I know, it’s Sadie Fox. And no matter what a tyrant she is, I know you would love to photograph for her,’ Nicholas replied.

  ‘Think of the money we could give to charity. She seriously over pays.’

  ‘I know, you said, it’s fine. You can leave me frustrated, I’ll deal,’ Nicholas answered, kissing her cheek.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you. Listen, there’s leftover pizza if you want breakfast. I’m going to have to dash,’ Freya said, looking at her watch.

  ‘Without even a cup of tea?’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Oh I’ve had a cup of tea and I�
��ve fed Willis and the photographers have had tea too. And I did all that while I was trying to find my Wednesday pants,’ Freya informed him with a smile.

  ‘You are one amazing woman,’ Nicholas told her.

  ‘And don’t you forget it. Speaking of not forgetting things…you have remembered we’re going to Sam and Jolie’s tonight for Sam’s birthday, haven’t you?’ Freya asked. She took her handbag from where it hung over the banister.

  ‘Is that tonight?’

  ‘You mean the efficient Sandra hasn’t emailed you your schedule yet? Yes, it’s tonight so could you drop into Masons and pick up the fancy dress outfits on your way through?’ Freya asked him.

  ‘Fancy dress? You mean costumes?’

  ‘Yes, costumes. Wait until you see what you’re wearing,’ Freya said with a laugh.

  ‘I’m dreading it already.’

  ‘OK, well, wish me luck with the viper-tongued fashion designer,’ Freya said, taking her car keys from her handbag.

  ‘Good luck and call me. Let me know how it goes,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t forget, extra nudity in that script and, hold that thought until later,’ Freya said. Her suggestion was clear.

  ‘I certainly will.’ He kissed her lips.

  ‘Bye,’ Freya said. She opened the door.

  ‘Bye,’ Nicholas replied.

  Freya stepped out onto the wooden porch and sucked in a breath. Winter wasn’t a favourite season of hers and the past month it had been uncharacteristically cold. The next week threatened to bring snow and she knew the kind of snow they got in the US wasn’t the light dusting usually experienced in the UK. Nick had mentioned chains and snow shoes and bulky clothes. The only good thing was snow meant Christmas had to be getting closer. She loved Christmas!

  As she left the house the photographers began to take pictures. It was one of the downsides of living with a Hollywood actor. However, she had found that by taking them an early morning cup of tea, dressed only in a nightshirt and robe, all other photographs they took were infinitely better. And once people had seen one photograph of her in her night clothes they weren’t really interested in another. Besides, she didn’t feel duty bound to protect her image like Nicholas did.

  ‘Boys, is it really necessary? You’ve had me in my Mickey Mouse pyjamas this morning. And they weren’t even my best pair,’ Freya called to them as she walked down the steps towards her car.

  ‘But they were very nice. I liked the ribbons,’ Donny, one of the photographers called back to her.

  ‘Hey Donny, if you want raw photos I’d stick around because Nick’s dressing up tonight,’ Freya informed him.

  ‘Will there be left over takeout?’

  ‘Don’t push it.’

  She got into her red Ford Expedition and shut the door behind her. How her life had changed.

  In the space of a year she had met Nicholas Kaden, become engaged, sold her photography business in England and moved to America. She smiled as she remembered the impromptu holiday to Corfu to visit her best friend Emma – that break had changed everything.

  Emma’s life had been altered forever too. She was now a wife and mother and little Melissa Susan Petroholis - two months old - was making her presence felt in the world, usually in the early hours of the morning.

  But that holiday had been important for another reason. It had helped Freya leave her life as Jane Lawson-Peck completely behind. Her father, Eric Lawson-Peck was a billionaire business man with companies all over the world and fingers in lots of pies. But he was also a monster. He had beaten Freya throughout her childhood and his treatment, coupled with the extravagant way her parents had led their lives, had culminated in Freya spending nine months in jail after setting fire to their home. She had been just eighteen.

  Thankfully, that nightmare was now all in the past. Nicholas knew everything and accepted her for who she was. He also accepted her for the size she was.

  Freya’s weight had always been a battle and a battle she really wasn’t interested in fighting. She loved food, she hated exercise. It was a lethal combination. She was a size twenty. She sometimes lost a few pounds, sometimes gained a few pounds but ordinarily she stuck and that was her. Take it or leave it. She knew she wouldn’t be able to change and she was getting towards feeling comfortable with that.

  Despite being devastatingly handsome, Nicholas had certain confidence issues too. He had beaten testicular cancer some years previously but had only felt able to share this information with the world after he met Freya. She had given him the strength to go public and, since broadcasting the news, they had set up the Nicholas Kaden Foundation. It raised money towards cancer research and bought vital equipment to assist in diagnosis and treatment.

  Freya started up the car and drove down the gravel driveway towards the photographers at the gate. They moved out of the way as the electronic gate swung open and she waved at them as she headed off up the road.

  Now home for Nicholas and Freya was Mayleaf, a small town on the outskirts of Hollywood. When Freya had first arrived in Los Angeles they had lived in one of Nicholas’ enormous houses in the thick of things. Freya had hated it. Despite having lived in the hustle and bustle of London, the noise and activity of life in Hollywood had not even compared.

  The house itself had been a fortress. It had been full of cameras and alarms and surrounded by an electric fence. Freya hadn’t been able to live like that, so they had house-hunted.

  Freya had known exactly the type of house she wanted to live in. It had been a picture she’d held in her mind from childhood when she’d been like the princess in the tower, desperate to escape. The house she saw in her mind was large and white with a big covered wooden porch outside the front door. It had a garden, with mature trees, a lawn and a swing. Inside it was modest, but most importantly it was homely. It would be somewhere she felt comfortable in and comforted by. A haven.

  They had looked at a dozen houses in various towns in the vicinity of Hollywood, but as soon as they’d driven up to Whitewood House, Freya knew it was the one.

  And Mayleaf, as a town, was perfect. It was small with a handful of shops and eateries, a gas station, a town hall, a high school, one bar and a diner. As clichéd as it was, it reminded Freya of every small town she’d ever seen on any American movie. But it was its sense of community Freya really loved. It was so close knit and everyone knew each other and the benefits of this far outweighed the downsides as far as she was concerned.

  The town had been nothing but welcoming to Nicholas and Freya and they’d even introduced some new town laws banning journalists from entering the Town Circle. This basically meant they couldn’t be pestered when they were in the town centre. It also meant they could participate in town gatherings and activities without being spied on by the press. At present the town elders were discussing whether or not to increase the boundaries of the Town Circle to incorporate Nicholas and Freya’s house. That would stop the photographers congregating there.

  Freya knew some of the decisions had been made because they’d made a considerable donation towards the repair of the town hall roof, but no one treated them any differently in any other respect and they both liked that.

  Freya’s new photography business, Exposure, had been established half an hour’s drive away in the affluent city of Carlton. Freya had originally wanted to set up her business in Mayleaf itself, but there weren’t suitable premises. In the end, having discussed it with Nicholas, she decided Carlton was the best option as it was closer to the main road from the airport and would be easier for people to get to.

  Since her explicit photographs of Nicholas had been auctioned for charity and news of their engagement was announced, everyone who was anyone in Hollywood wanted Freya to take their picture. At first Freya found the prospect of this frightening, but having now shot dozens of A-list celebrities, it was becoming a lot more comfortable. And this morning’s meeting with Sadie Fox was a chance to get into the fashion industry. That could mean big business.


  If Freya was truthful she’d much rather photograph a craggy landscape or the ocean at sunset, but she knew she had a real talent for capturing something different in people when she photographed them. And she was making the most of this current popularity, taking the business, making the money and giving away the majority of it. It was her plan to benefit as many people as possible with the money. That ethic was the complete opposite to her parents and their ostentatious lifestyles. She liked being the opposite of them.

  When Freya arrived at her studio her assistant, Sasha was waiting at the entrance with a polystyrene cup in one hand and a large pastry in the other.

  Sasha was tall, slim, blonde and twenty five. When Freya interviewed for the position of her assistant she’d been determined to hire a man, because that was what she’d been used to. She’d also been determined not to hire anyone who was younger, slimmer or more attractive than she was, despite what employment law stipulated. However, Sasha had shown more enthusiasm in photography than the rest of the candidates put together. She was also computer literate and made good tea. There was no competition.

  ‘Morning, Sasha, well timed as always. Mmm what flavour is this one?’ Freya asked as she took the pastry and sank her teeth into it.

  ‘It’s dark chocolate today. Milo at the patisserie is trying out a new recipe and he wanted me to let him know what you think,’ Sasha replied, following Freya through the reception area and into her office.

  ‘Mmm, well tell him I love him. This is so good. Right, so, appointments for today. Sadie Fox at nine and…’ Freya started, sitting down in her chair.

  ‘Actually, Sadie Fox called earlier and she’s had to cancel. She apologised and said something about having to fly to Paris urgently this morning,’ Sasha informed.

  ‘Oh no! Sasha! Why didn’t you call me? I passed up sex with my fiancé for that appointment. Have you seen how attractive my fiancé is?’ Freya exclaimed in horror.

  ‘Yes I have,’ Sasha said, nodding.

  ‘You don’t pass up sex with someone as handsome as that unless it’s really crucial. Damn that woman!’ Freya stated, leaning backwards in her chair and taking another bite of the pastry.