by Sk Quinn
Nadia strides over. ‘Okay, listen. Sigourney is feeling a little nervous. So we’re going to be kind to her.’
Nadia waves Sigourney over. ‘Come and meet the cast, Sigourney. Leo you know already of course.’
Sigourney tiptoes towards us, head bent, eyes shy and nervous.
‘How’s it going Sigourney?’ says Leo, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Sigourney throws him a timid, fawn-like smile. ‘Oh you know. A bit anxious. My first time on a movie.’
‘How’s the husband?’
Sigourney’s eyes drop to the grass. ‘The divorce came through last month. He finally did it. Oh well. His loss.’
‘Plenty more fish in the sea,’ says Leo.
‘Exactly. And I have this whole movie project to keep me busy. Which is great. Except I have no idea what’s going on right now. Which scene are we filming?’
‘If you turned up on time you’d know,’ Baz growls.
Sigourney gives a light, girlish laugh.
‘It’s not funny,’ says Baz. ‘You’re not on your magazine set now. We’re on location. If we have to shoot another day here it’ll cost the film company millions. So set your fucking alarm tomorrow.’
Sigourney’s lips go tight. ‘I’ll do my own makeup,’ she tells Nadia. ‘Where’s the dressing room?’
‘That marquee over there.’ Nadia points.
‘Marquee?’ Sigourney’s lips part, as if to complain. But then she clearly thinks better of it. ‘I’ll get changed then.’
‘Be quick,’ says Nadia. ‘We’ve waited long enough for you.’
Sigourney’s face turns thunderous. ‘I explained all that already.’
She stalks off.
30
We manage to shoot a few scenes without Sigourney.
When she reappears in costume with her hair and makeup done, I have to admit she looks stunning. Makeup does a lot for her.
To my surprise, she comes right up to me. ‘Hey,’ she says, smoothing her hair. ‘That dress – it was supposed to be mine wasn’t it?’
‘Um … I think they had it in mind for your character,’ I say. ‘But we decided it worked well for my character too.’
‘And you weren’t here yesterday,’ says Baz. ‘If you had been, you might have had some say in what you were going to wear.’
‘Swap with me?’ Sigourney asks, giving me a catlike smile.
‘Well I suppose I could—’
‘For Christ’s sake don’t swap with her,’ Baz barks. ‘She needs to learn a lesson. She can’t just turn up late and get exactly what she wants.’ He turns his dark eyes on Sigourney. ‘Sweetheart. It’s bad enough you’re late. Don’t go making any more trouble. You’ve got a pretty dress on. And you haven’t been fired yet. Count your fucking blessings, ’scuse my language, and let’s get filming.’
‘How dare you talk to me like that,’ Sigourney fires back.
‘How dare you keep us all waiting and then demand the dress off the leading lady?’
‘Baz, it’s fine,’ I say.
‘Leading lady?’ Sigourney puts her hands on her skinny hips. ‘What are you talking about. I’m the leading lady.’
Baz laughs. ‘Oh no you’re fucking not. Sophia is the leading lady. Leo is the leading man. It’s going to be their faces on the posters and us in the background. Check your contract.’
‘This is unbelievable.’ Sigourney marches towards Nadia, and soon we hear raised voices.
‘My ex-girlfriend causing trouble yet again,’ says Leo, putting his arm around my shoulder. ‘Don’t sweat it, princess. Baz is right. You shouldn’t give her your dress.’
‘Don’t you start calling me princess, now.’
‘Can’t help it,’ Leo grins. ‘Like Baz said, you shouldn’t have got cross about it. Now I have to call you it. So you, princess, have just got yourself a set nickname.’
‘Great. Thanks a lot.’
‘I think “princess” is better suited to Sigourney,’ Ruby whispers. ‘She’s a spoiled princess and no mistake.’
‘You’re right there,’ says Baz. ‘That one is going to be trouble. I guarantee it.’
‘I could have told you that before we even started filming,’ says Leo.
31
In the end, Nadia manages to calm Sigourney down. We’re not sure how. But there’s no more talk about swapping dresses.
The filming goes okay.
It starts to rain at one point, and Sigourney refuses to shoot her scene until it stops. But we mainly stay on schedule, only overrunning by an hour or so.
As we head back to the marquee to change, I feel Sigourney link arms with me.
‘Hey,’ she says, giving me another catlike smile.
‘Hi,’ I say, feeling a little uncomfortable. Something about the way Sigourney takes my arm is possessive rather than friendly.
‘So you got your dress in the end.’
‘Look, I’m really sorry about that.’
‘It’s okay. Everything was a fucking mess today anyway. My hair didn’t turn out right. They didn’t have the makeup I usually use. I look terrible.’
‘No you don’t,’ I say truthfully. ‘You look great.’
Sigourney’s big smile reappears. ‘Thank you. Hey listen – how are things with you and Marc?’
My stomach turns icy. What is she playing at, asking a question like that? It’s none of her business how Marc and I are. Is she trying to piss me off? Or is she just too stupid to realise how tactless that question is?
‘Great thanks,’ I reply, a little frostily.
‘Is he picking you up today?’
I frown. ‘Why are you asking—’
‘I know how he can be,’ says Sigourney, dropping her voice. ‘So if you ever need anyone to talk to, just let me know.’
Before I can reply, she drops my arm and strides into the marquee.
By the time I’ve changed, removed my makeup and hung up my costume, it’s gone six o’clock.
I’m still annoyed about Sigourney, but I’m distracting myself by thinking of Marc’s surprise. I just have no idea what it could be. But I can’t wait to find out.
Marc’s black Aston Martin waits in the car park, and my heart lifts when I see it. But then it drops again. Because Sigourney is by the car, tossing her hair and laughing.
The car window is open.
Behind the temporary fences, paparazzi snap, snap, snap away.
I feel anger boiling in my stomach.
Marc knows what the press are like. They’ll add this picture to some old Marc and Sigourney shot, and I’ll have to see them splashed all over the papers tomorrow.
He shouldn’t be talking to her. Letting her drape herself over his car. Doesn’t he know what it looks like?
I walk faster than usual as I head to the car, my lips set into a line.
As I get closer, I hear Sigourney say, ‘They were great times though, weren’t they? I always think about you. Do you ever think about me?’
I don’t want to hear any more.
I march up to the car. ‘Thanks for picking me up Marc. Sorry – we overran.’ I glance at Sigourney. ‘Will you excuse us?’
I jump into the passenger seat and plant a long kiss on Marc’s lips. Then I sit back. ‘Shall we go then?’
Marc raises a ‘really?’ eyebrow at me.
‘What?’ I say. ‘Can’t I say hello?’
‘Any time you like,’ says Marc, with an amused smile.
I turn to Sigourney. ‘Careful the car doesn’t run you over.’
Sigourney stares at me blankly for a moment. Then she collapses into laughter. ‘Oh! Of course, you’ve only just got married haven’t you? Honeymoon phase. Silly me.’ She stands back, her eyes fixing on Marc’s. ‘Later okay?’ she says with a wave. ‘Don’t forget me.’
As she walks away, I wind up the passenger window.
‘Bad day?’ Marc asks. ‘Or just jealous?’
‘Why did you let her talk to you?’ I fume. ‘There’ll be pic
tures all over the papers tomorrow. Have you no respect for me at all?’
‘I have nothing but respect for you.’
‘Then why let her drape herself over your car like that?’
‘I can’t tell a woman how to stand.’
‘But you can tell her to get lost.’
‘I did. The problem with Sigourney is she doesn’t take no for an answer.’
‘So you told her to get lost?’
‘In so many words. I certainly wasn’t indulging her ridiculous conversation. It was very one-sided. If you were listening.’
‘I was listening,’ I mumble.
‘Did you hear me talking?’
‘No,’ I admit.
‘I didn’t even look at her. She’ll get bored eventually. Trust me. I know the type.’ He starts the car.
‘Oh you know the type do you?’ I say. ‘Tell me – exactly how many types do you know?’
‘Sophia, I’m not going to pander to your jealousy.’ Marc puts the car into reverse. ‘You knew about my past when you married me. It’s not something I’m proud of. But it won’t go away either. Girls will come out of the woodwork. They always have and they probably always will. You have to learn to ignore them.’
I shake my head, feeling tears coming. ‘I suppose I just thought … when we were married …’
Marc slides a hand over mine. ‘That the past would be erased? A clean slate?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Life doesn’t usually work like that.’
I let out a long sigh. ‘So. What’s this surprise then?’
‘It’s waiting back at the townhouse.’
As Marc edges the car out of the parking spot, we see Nadia striding towards us, waving.
Marc frowns. ‘Did you forget something?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Then what does Nadia want?’
‘I’m not sure.’
I wind down the window.
32
‘Hey!’ Nadia shouts, peering into the car. ‘Sophia. I meant tell you before – drinks tonight, okay? At the Peacock Lounge. To celebrate the first day of shooting.’ She turns to Marc. ‘You don’t mind do you Marc? Losing your leading lady just for one night?’
‘I’m not invited?’
‘Cast and crew only I’m afraid.’
‘I’d forgotten about your endless socials.’
‘It’s good for the cast and crew to get along,’ says Nadia. ‘If everyone has fun the movie always comes out better.’
‘I had something planned for Sophia tonight.’
‘I … Marc, I think I should go,’ I say, placing a hand over his. ‘Can the surprise wait another day?’
‘It can wait another day.’
‘Okay!’ Nadia claps her hands. ‘This is good news. What would drinks be without our leading lady?’
I laugh. ‘I think that leading lady title caused a bit of trouble today. With Sigourney.’
Nadia waves a dismissive hand. ‘Oh she’s a prima donna. Models always are. I just told her you were the good leading lady and she was the bad one. That way she still gets to think she’s the most important person in the movie.’
‘I don’t mind if she is the leading lady,’ I say. ‘Honestly. She’s more famous than me. Maybe she has a point.’
‘I decide who the leading lady is, not Sigourney,’ says Nadia. ‘And I’ve decided it’s you. Okay. So listen – drinks at eight. You know where the Peacock Lounge is right?’
‘No.’
‘I know where it is,’ says Marc shortly.
‘Of course you do,’ says Nadia. ‘You know where every bar in London is. Right? It’s settled then. You can drop Sophia off.’
A tiny smile plays on Marc’s lips. ‘Drop her off? I’m really not invited then?’
‘No partners I’m afraid. We’re trying to bond as a crew. Not have a party.’
‘So it won’t be a party?’ says Marc, looking even more amused. ‘That’ll be a first for you.’
Nadia laughs. ‘Well maybe a bit of a party. But we’ll have your girl home before midnight, okay? There’s another early start tomorrow.’
Marc frowns. ‘Sophia, you shouldn’t stay out too late. You need your rest.’
‘I won’t stay for long,’ I say. ‘Just an hour or so. Okay?’
Marc nods but he doesn’t look happy.
‘So you take her home and feed her,’ says Nadia, patting the car’s shiny paintwork. ‘Then bring her back to us for eight.’
‘If that’s how it has to be, that’s how it has to be.’ Marc puts the car into gear and speeds towards the security gates.
‘Marc!’ I say, as we speed away from Nadia. ‘You didn’t even say bye. Or let me say goodbye.’
‘You’ll be seeing her in a few hours. How many goodbyes do you need?’
‘You’re not happy. Are you? That I’m going out for cocktails.’
‘Well for a start you won’t be having cocktails.’
‘No I didn’t mean … of course I won’t. You know that. Marc, why are you being like this?’
‘I think it’s a bad idea for you to go out tonight. I think you’re tiring yourself out. You have another early start tomorrow.’
‘It’s just for a few hours. It’s fine.’ I let out an involuntary yawn, and Marc’s expression turns thunderous.
‘Sophia—’
‘It’s just for a few hours Marc. Is this about the surprise you have planned? Is that it? You’re upset because I’m putting you off?’
‘Hardly. It’s you I’m thinking of. And your health.’
‘I’ve lived with my body a long time. I think I know what I can manage.’
‘Really?’ Marc barks. ‘Because experience has taught me that’s something you don’t know. The last time you tried to manage you ran yourself ragged and ended up in hospital. And this time you could be pregnant.’
He shouts that last word and I feel hurt sting my chest.
‘You’re saying it like it’s an illness.’
‘If you’re pregnant it will weaken you.’
‘Millions of women—’
‘YOU ARE NOT MILLIONS OF WOMEN,’ Marc shouts, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. ‘You are the woman I love. The woman I would do anything for. The woman I would die for. And if anything happened to you …’
My stomach softens. ‘Nothing will happen to me.’
‘It won’t if you let me take care of you. But when you insist on making decisions for yourself—’
‘Don’t let’s do this again,’ I say. ‘This same argument. Going round and round. I’m not a child. I have to make my own mistakes.’
‘Not if you’re carrying my baby,’ Marc growls.
‘Oh so it’s your baby?’ I say. ‘I thought it was ours.’
‘Mine. Ours. What’s the difference?’ Marc pulls the car to an abrupt stop and turns to me. ‘Don’t you understand Sophia? What it would do to me if you got hurt?’
‘I understand,’ I whisper. ‘But I thought you understood I have to live my own life.’
‘The fact you could be pregnant has … changed things. I knew I loved you before. But it’s nothing to how I feel now. How protective I feel. You don’t know how hard this day has been for me.’
I feel myself smile. ‘Thank you. For loving me so much. It’s … unbelievable sometimes.’
‘It still surprises me,’ says Marc, managing a smile. ‘I wanted to protect you the first moment I met you. And now … you could be carrying our child.’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re my responsibility. Now more than ever. If anything happened to you it would be my fault. And I could never live with myself.’
‘I’m not your responsibility.’
‘Oh yes you are, Mrs Blackwell. Your happiness. Your pleasure. Your health. Our baby. All my responsibility. And I take my responsibilities very seriously.’
He leans in and kisses me.
It’s a soft kiss at first, but then it grows harder and more sensual,
one hand coming around my back to pull me to him.
I hear myself moan as the kiss intensifies and Marc’s tongue softly pushes into my mouth.
Suddenly Marc pulls back and grabs the steering wheel. ‘You, Mrs Blackwell, are still fucking irresistible. And as usual you are testing my self-control.’
He slams his foot on the accelerator and pulls onto the main road, dodging in and out of cars.
I grip the leather seat. ‘Slow down!’
‘You’re safe. You should know that by now.’
‘It’s not that I don’t trust your driving,’ I say. ‘I’m just a wimp when it comes to speed.’
‘The faster I get you home the faster I can fuck you.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to tire me out?’
‘What I have planned shouldn’t tire you out at all,’ says Marc. ‘You won’t have to lift a finger. In fact if you do, you’ll be in big trouble. I am taking your health very, very seriously.’
33
Back at the townhouse, supper is laid out in the kitchen. It’s all kinds of deli stuff – cold cuts of meat, cheeses, pickles, dips, fresh butter and two huge brown farmhouse loaves.
‘Eat up,’ says Marc. ‘You need your strength.’ He pours me a glass of iced water with lemon. ‘And you should drink too. A day on set can dehydrate you.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘What would I do without you?’
‘You will never have to find out.’
As I’m finishing my meal, Marc props his elbows on the breakfast bar and watches me.
‘You’re very beautiful when you eat.’
I pick up a napkin and dab my lips self-consciously. ‘Thank you.’
‘I thought you’d want a light supper. After a day of greasy catered food.’
‘How did you know what we had for lunch?’
Marc smiles. ‘I may not have shot a movie for a while, but I remember the catering. Especially bad in London. Not two salad leaves to rub together.’
I laugh. ‘You really do remember.’
‘And I’m willing to bet Sigourney was less than happy with the food. Would I be right?’