by Mandy Baggot
‘That is as good an example as any,’ Freya agreed.
‘I told you before, I don’t want you to change or fit into my world. I want you, as you are and nothing more. And if you really feel the need to wipe out a cameraman or two believe me, there are ways and means,’ Nicholas assured her.
‘There’s something else you should know,’ Freya spoke seriously.
‘Go on,’ Nicholas urged.
‘I gave Russell details about my past life, told him everything there was to know, including some rather damning stories about my father. I told him he could sell it to the highest bidder in exchange for leaving us alone,’ Freya told him.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Nicholas said.
‘No I know I didn’t. But it wasn’t giving in to him. I haven’t given him any money directly but perhaps Shooting Stars magazine will be foolish enough to pay his debts off for him and I won’t have it on my conscience. And seeing as I gave him the details myself there’s a small chance the truth might get printed, instead of a distorted version,’ Freya spoke.
Nicholas held her hand tightly in his.
‘Now I know it’s coming I can be ready,’ Freya said.
‘And we can handle it together,’ Nicholas spoke, squeezing her hand.
‘Mmm, starting with the dignitaries’ dinner,’ Freya reminded him.
‘Don’t worry about that. Believe me, once I’ve done my speech the press won’t be talking about your past,’ Nicholas insisted.
Twenty Nine
It made the Friday edition of Shooting Stars magazine. There were two photographs of Freya on the front cover. One was the picture of her and Nicholas taken outside Harry’s Place and the other was her prison mug shot.
There were also more pictures inside. Some of her parents, some of her as a child - accompanying them to the races at Royal Ascot - and two photos that she had taken for clients. Lake Coniston in autumn and Class 11a of Hildon Comprehensive.
Freya was sat with Nicholas and Emma at Petroholis Restaurant reading the article over breakfast. Outside, the building was surrounded by photographers taking pictures. They had tried to come onto the premises but Mrs Petroholis had quickly shown them the door and banned them from entering, so they had set up camp across the street instead.
‘Well, that’s that then,’ Freya stated, letting out a breath and moving her chair back from the table slightly.
‘I don’t think it’s that bad. It does only tell the truth, so I suppose Russell does have a crumb of decency about him,’ Emma stated.
‘More likely he didn’t want to be sued. Cute hair in that picture by the way,’ Nicholas commented pointing to a photo where Freya had pigtails.
‘They could have got one of me on my gold and diamond encrusted potty surely. And don’t think I’m joking,’ Freya remarked, trying to make light of the situation. She knew there were tears building in her eyes and she tried to blink them away.
‘Hey, come on. We knew this was coming. It’s all out there now, it’s done,’ Nicholas said, putting his arm around her which prompted immediate action from the photographers.
‘Yeah I know. It’s just that I should have held off a bit longer. They’re all going to be there tonight, shouting questions and taking pictures and wondering what the Hell you’re doing with me,’ Freya stated, suddenly becoming overwhelmed by everything.
‘I promise tonight will be fine. You’ve got to trust me, I wouldn’t lead you into the lions’ den,’ Nicholas assured her.
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t go,’ Freya suggested.
‘No! That would be like saying you were ashamed of who you are,’ Emma told her.
‘I am! That’s what hiding my identity was all about. I was ashamed,’ Freya admitted.
‘Of what? Of having been to jail?’ Nicholas asked her.
‘A little. But more so of being the child of Mr and Mrs Lawson-Peck. If only I could change my genealogy,’ Freya said.
‘You can’t change that, but you can change how you deal with it. You’ve got to face this head on, no more running away,’ Emma spoke determinedly.
‘God, when did you get so wise?’ Freya questioned with a sigh.
‘Emma’s right. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of and I’m not going to hide away. I want you there tonight. I want you to hear what I’ve got to say when I address the guests,’ Nicholas told her.
‘I’m starting to get concerned about this speech and I suspect if Martha knew what you have planned she would be positively panicked,’ Freya spoke.
‘She worries too much. Shall we have another coffee? I’ve got twenty minutes before the car comes,’ Nicholas said, checking his watch.
‘I’ll get some,’ Emma said, immediately rising from her chair.
‘No, no, sit down. I’ll get it and I’ll see what’s taking Yiannis so long unloading that delivery,’ Nicholas said, getting to his feet and heading towards the kitchen.
‘Freya, he’s so nice,’ Emma spoke as soon as Nicholas was out of earshot.
‘He isn’t just nice; he’s amazing in every way. I just can’t believe him,’ Freya admitted, smiling at her best friend.
‘Is it serious? I mean it seems serious but, you know, he lives in America and…’Emma began.
‘And I don’t. I know. I don’t know to tell the truth, we’re just making the most of every day and…we slept together,’ Freya admitted with a blush.
‘Oh my God! When?!’ Emma exclaimed loudly.
‘Sshh, it was Wednesday. It was perfect. It was so perfect it made me cry. God, I sound pathetic, like a part in one of his films,’ Freya said with a tut.
‘Oh Freya, you have no idea how happy I am for you,’ Emma said, smiling at her friend.
‘And he knows the truth about me which means no more deception. Maybe it’s just too perfect,’ Freya said nervously.
‘Now stop it right now. You cannot keep thinking that just because everything’s going well that something’s going to go wrong,’ Emma said, almost angrily.
‘Why not? It’s the story of my life,’ Freya replied.
‘No. This is the story of your life, right here in black, white and colour and it’s all out for public consumption. Nothing’s going to go wrong,’ Emma assured her.
‘OK,’ Freya answered, sounding less than convinced.
‘So what are your plans for today?’ Emma asked her.
‘I’ve got a car taking me to Corfu Town to get something to wear for tonight’s dinner. I was going to wear the black dress I bought from Agatha but it’s a really posh do and I don’t want Hilary Polar to upstage me,’ Freya told her.
‘Impossible,’ Emma answered.
‘But I won’t be gone all day and I thought you might help me with my hair. Then we can look through some bridal magazines and start planning your wedding,’ Freya spoke, taking another roll from the plate and spreading it with jam.
‘Oh Yiannis and I talked about that and we’re going to wait until after the baby’s born. We’re going to save up and Mr and Mrs P have given us quite a large sum of money to put towards building our house,’ Emma informed.
‘That’s great news but why wait? You told me you wanted to get married before the baby’s born,’ Freya reminded her.
‘Yes I know, but it doesn’t matter,’ Emma spoke, in a less than convincing tone.
‘I know it does, you told me that too. Here,’ Freya spoke and she passed Emma a slip of paper.
‘What’s this? Oh my God! Freya! This is a banker’s draft,’ Emma stated, looking at it in disbelief.
‘Made payable to you. It’s for the Euro equivalent of fifteen thousand pounds. It’s a thank you from me to you for all you’ve done for me over the years, all the lies you’ve had to tell and all the unexpected visits I’ve made that you never moaned about. You’re my best friend Emma and I love you,’ Freya said, becoming emotional as she spoke.
‘Oh Freya, I can’t take this, it’s too much,’ Emma spoke, astounded by the sum of money she was holdi
ng.
‘It isn’t a handout from Nick - I earned it - in the most pleasurable of ways, but I earned it all the same and it was always going to be for your wedding - like I promised,’ Freya told her.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Emma said as tears formed in her eyes.
‘Say I’m going to wear something classy and stylish and nothing pink,’ Freya answered as she ate some of the roll.
‘I was thinking of chocolate for the bridesmaids,’ Emma admitted.
‘Now you’re talking, chocolate and I have a long and well established relationship,’ Freya replied with a smile.
It was 10.00am when Nicholas’ car came to pick Freya up at the Calypso Apartments. There was a crowd of people around the vehicle as soon as it pulled up and as Freya hastened towards it, all eyes and cameras were on her. She still hated it, but was becoming strangely accustomed to it.
Mike was at the door to open it for her and Freya ducked to get in. Then she stopped and hesitated, as she saw someone else was already sat in the back seat.
It was Martha, dressed in a stern looking black trouser suit.
‘What are you doing here? Mike’s taking me to Corfu Town,’ Freya told her.
‘I know, get in,’ Martha ordered, not even turning her head to look her way.
‘I don’t remember asking for a guide,’ Freya replied.
She still didn’t get in and now she was being jostled by people wanting photographs and autographs. Poor Mike was doing his level best to keep his hat on his head.
‘And I didn’t ask to have my workload trebled. I think we ought to discuss this,’ Martha said and she slammed a copy of Shooting Stars down onto the leather seat next to her.
‘Shall I autograph it for you?’ Freya suggested, still unmoving.
‘For God’s sake, get in the damn car!’ Martha yelled and she leant forward, grabbed hold of Freya’s arm and forcefully pulled her inside the vehicle.
Mike hurriedly shut the door and Freya was left on the back seat, nursing her injured arm.
‘What the Hell did you do that for? You know I have stitches,’ Freya exclaimed as she examined the wound.
‘It seemed to be the only way to get you in here. Go ahead Mike,’ Martha called to the driver.
‘If your plan’s to kidnap me, can you use something other than duct tape because it brings me out in a rash,’ Freya replied.
‘Oh everything is one big joke to you isn’t it?’ Martha began.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Freya replied.
‘What on Earth do you think’s going to happen to Nicholas’ image after this?’ Martha questioned and she tapped the magazine with a well manicured finger.
‘This has nothing to do with you,’ Freya told her.
‘It has everything to do with me. I am paid to look after him, to ensure his image is protected and to be honest, since you somehow managed to involve yourself with him, everything I have been working so hard to maintain is suddenly in jeopardy,’ Martha spoke seriously.
‘What are you talking about?’ Freya questioned.
‘I’m talking about this article in this magazine, I’m talking about Nicholas racing off to the hospital with you when he has other commitments, brawling in the street, inviting you to the function tonight when he should be escorting Hilary. You are, without doubt, an unsatisfactory influence,’ Martha concluded.
‘You’re flattering me Martha,’ Freya responded.
‘See, here we are again, another joke! Don’t you hear what I’m telling you? You are not someone he should be associating with,’ Martha carried on, becoming increasingly agitated.
‘For what reason? Because I’m not stick thin like Hilary? Because I’ve been in prison? It can’t be because I’m the daughter of Eric Lawson-Peck because he is money, which makes me money and you love money,’ Freya spoke.
‘The fact that you are related to that clever, genial man, who I have had the pleasure to meet, is your one saving grace. But after all those vile things you said about him it’s no wonder he disowned you,’ Martha continued.
‘Those vile things, as you call them, were nothing but the truth of my life with him,’ Freya told her, her temper rising.
‘My heart bleeds,’ Martha answered.
‘You mean it would if you had one,’ Freya retorted.
‘You can insult me all you wish, it won’t be anything I haven’t heard before. My primary concern is Nicholas’ career and I want you to know that this sort of attention is not only unwanted but also damaging,’ Martha told her in serious tones.
‘Then if I’m so dangerous and such a bad influence, why aren’t you having this conversation with Nick?’ Freya enquired.
‘Because when you’ve known someone for as many years as I’ve known Nicholas, you get to know the strategies that work and the strategies that don’t,’ Martha explained with a smug look on her face.
‘I might have known you would have a strategy. So tell me, how many other women have you had this conversation with?’ Freya wanted to know.
‘A few. Not many in recent years I have to admit. But judge for yourself whether it was productive or not. Two Academy awards, twenty three films all grossing highly around the world,’ Martha spoke.
‘He’s in love with me,’ Freya told her plainly.
‘Oh please! “I love you” falls off an actor’s lips so easily. They can’t help it, it’s the nature of the job, saying it over and over to one actress after another, reality and fiction are bound to get blurred,’ Martha said.
‘What are you expecting me to do? Let him down tonight? Disappear back to England and pretend we never met?’ Freya wanted to know.
‘You’re not slow to catch on, that should make things easier,’ Martha responded.
‘Do you really think for one minute that I’m going to take any notice of what you say?’ Freya asked her.
‘If you care at all for Nicholas you will. He’s thirty five now, at the top of his career, but that can’t last forever. There are younger actors coming up, getting the romantic leads he might once have had. To remain in the game he needs to be focussed, he needs nothing but good publicity and in this last week, thanks to you, he’s had more bad press than he’s had since I’ve been working for him,’ Martha said.
‘You’ll have to instate a curfew,’ Freya answered.
‘You cannot possibly think for one moment that you and he can have a full time relationship,’ Martha stated.
Freya didn’t respond and Martha let out a cackle of laughter that vibrated through the back of the car.
‘My God, you really do think that don’t you?! Oh my! This is amusing. You haven’t the first idea about his life and what his career entails. Things here in Corfu have been very casual, I admit, but that is unusual. His life is Hollywood, it’s non stop,’ Martha spoke.
‘And he despises all that did you know? He hates the parties and the snobbery and the endless interviews, they bore him,’ Freya told her.
‘Is that what he told you? And you believed him? Those parties and the interviews have helped to make him a superstar of epic proportion. He would be no one without the things that made him who he is,’ Martha said.
‘I’ve heard enough,’ Freya stated.
‘But have you taken any of it on board?’ Martha asked.
‘I am going to that party tonight. Nick wants me there,’ Freya told her.
‘Fine, if you insist on putting yourself through it. But let me tell you this, you might have coped with a couple of paparazzi here, but that party and all the parties to come are like being in a zoo enclosure at feeding time. They say cruel, cruel things Freya, about how you look, about who you are and about what you are. There would be daily reminders of what you’ve tried hard to forget,’ Martha told her.
‘This conversation is over, you can leave now. Mike, stop the car, Ms Wilson is going,’ Freya called to the driver.
‘Well don’t say I didn’t try and warn you. And good luck finding a dress. I hear the
re are one or two small boutiques that cater for the - how shall I put it - bigger boned woman,’ Martha spoke as the car came to a halt.
‘Thank you, now hurry up and close the door. We wouldn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to the fact that I’m kicking you out,’ Freya snapped.
Martha left the car and shut the door with a bang. Freya took a deep breath. No matter what she tried to tell herself, the conversation had unsettled her. She didn’t know what to do.
She was still going over things in her mind as she walked through Corfu Town. She didn’t know where she was heading. All she could think about was the way Martha had laughed about the prospect of her and Nicholas having a proper relationship. Perhaps she was right. After all, if anyone had told Freya the scenario a week or so ago she would have laughed too. What was she doing? She was getting involved in something she had always felt uncomfortable with. Nicholas lived in a completely different world to her; chock a block full of things Freya had escaped from when she left Jane behind.
She caught sight of her reflection in the window of a shop. She was huge, there was no denying it. What did he see in her? Actors didn’t sashay up the red carpet with women her size on their arm.
Fifteen minutes later Freya found herself standing outside Agatha’s Boutique. She looked at the outfits in the window, almost in a trance, not really seeing them, not really looking at anything, just lost in her thoughts, trapped in consideration. What was she going to do? Go to the party? Not go to the party? Her mind was full but earlier this morning everything had been clear and she had felt strong. She had felt sure of Nicholas and the feelings they were beginning to have for one another. But now all she felt was confusion.
‘Freya?’
Freya was brought back to the present as she heard her name being called. Agatha was stood at the entrance to her shop, looking at her.
‘Oh hello Agatha,’ Freya replied with a sigh.
‘Why so sad? I see you in newspaper with very handsome man, the actor. There is party in Athens tonight,’ Agatha spoke as Freya went up the steps and joined her at the door.