‘It would have,’ Patrick pointed out. ‘If this Babs hadn’t stuck her nose in and forced you to open the closure.’
I giggled.
‘Now you’re not making any sense at all,’ I said. But he was right. Matty’s betrayal had been so huge, so absolute, that a definite line had been drawn under our relationship. In real life, I’d have grieved, and then I’d have moved on. But in my crazy, public, dictated-by-Babs life, I’d grieved and then, just when I was starting to feel better, gone back for more humiliation.
Somehow I didn’t want to discuss Matty with Patrick, though.
‘So do you think you can find out if Donnie went AWOL?’ I said. ‘And give Cora some closure?’
‘I can definitely find him,’ Patrick said. ‘I’ve got a feeling the US Army shot deserters, though. So it might not be a happy ending.’
‘I think at this stage it doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘As long as there’s an ending.’
We’d arranged to spend the evening together watching Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, so Patrick came into the flat with me. While I had a shower, he made dinner. Then he had a shower and we took our plates of Caesar salad, sat on the sofa and ate in companionable silence.
While I put the DVD on, Patrick pulled his laptop out of his bag.
‘I reckon I can make a start on finding him now,’ he said. He connected to my Wi-Fi, jotted down the name Donald Jackson on the back of his hand, and began poring over various websites while I watched the film.
It had been a long day and I was tired. I’d thought I was fit before I started dancing, but training for hours every day was really taking it out of me. On the plus side, though, I’d never looked so toned and lithe. My fellow competitors all said the same – they’d all shed pounds, toned up, and our regular fake-tan sessions made us glow. It was like dancing was the magic ingredient we’d all been looking for to change our lives for the better.
I shifted on the sofa to get more comfortable, my eyes growing heavy. Patrick glanced at me.
‘Come here,’ he said, ‘You look worn out.’
I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around me, arranging himself so he could keep typing. I was warm and safe and – I suddenly realised – happier than I’d been for weeks. Months perhaps. I closed my eyes as Marilyn sang about diamonds being a girl’s best friend.
‘She’s wrong,’ I muttered. ‘Diamonds mean nothing.’
Patrick chuckled.
‘I thought every girl wanted diamonds,’ he said.
‘Not me,’ I said. ‘And not Cora, either. She just wanted Donnie. She didn’t care about being rich or having a fancy wedding. She said all her friends collected their clothing coupons so she could have a dress.’
‘That’s sweet,’ Patrick said.
‘Matty bought me all sorts,’ I said, opening my eyes. ‘Shoes, mostly. But also dresses, jewellery, holidays. Some of it he got for free but it came with conditions. I had this ridiculous watch that he insisted I wore whenever we were likely to be photographed.’
‘Which was every time you went out,’ Patrick said. He’d stopped looking at the laptop and was looking at me instead.
‘Oh, not every time,’ I said, even though it pretty much was. I knew Patrick would think the reality of my life with Matty was shallow and meaningless, and I didn’t want him to know all the details.
‘But he gave me all that stuff and it didn’t mean anything because he was sleeping with other women,’ I carried on. ‘It was like he was decorating a Christmas tree with glittery baubles, but the Christmas tree itself was all dead and dried up.’
‘Whoa, all righty there, Socrates,’ said Patrick, giving me a cheeky grin. ‘That’s a bit deep.’
I laughed.
‘I mean we were playing a part,’ I said. ‘It was just like I was being Betsy at work and Amy Lavender at home, but I never got to be me.’
‘Do you miss her,’ Patrick asked, his blue eyes studying my face so intently, I felt uncomfortable.
‘Betsy?’ I said. ‘I do, actually. I miss her a lot. I liked her, even if she was always in trouble.’
‘Not Betsy,’ Patrick said. ‘Amy Lavender. The old Amy Lavender. The fake Amy Lavender.’
‘Oh, her?’ I said, dismissively. ‘I don’t miss her one tiny bit.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ I was firm. ‘This is me, the real me. And frightening as it is to put myself out there, I think people like me.’
‘I definitely like this one better than the other one,’ Patrick said. He gave me a slow smile that made my stomach flip over. Oh, dear, I thought. Oh, dear.
‘What about the douchebag, though?’ Patrick said, oblivious to all the feelings I was feeling. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be getting back with him?’
I blinked at him.
‘The douchebag,’ he repeated. ‘Matty. Aren’t you supposed to be rekindling that flame?’
‘Ah, I’ll speak to Babs,’ I said, deciding in that second to be more assertive with my agent. ‘We’ll come up with a new plan.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Babs, however, had plans of her own.
‘Just phoning to wish you good luck for tonight,’ she trilled down the phone as I sat in the make-up chair at Strictly Stars Dancing that Saturday night. ‘You’ll be brilliant.’
‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘I really don’t want to let Patrick down. He’s worked really hard, and so has Cora.’
Cora had shown real determination as regards making me a dancer. She was in the audience tonight with Natasha. I wanted to make her proud of me and I was determined to dance as well as I could.
I had the most beautiful dress to wear – it was long and backless with a beaded bodice and a super-swishy skirt. I was discovering there were many good things about taking part in Strictly Stars Dancing, and the costumes were definitely up there among the best.
‘So it should all work out beautifully,’ Babs was saying. I’d completely missed what it was she was saying.
‘Beautifully,’ I agreed, watching the make-up artist spray-fix glitter to my cheekbones.
Babs laughed.
‘I must say I thought you’d argue,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad you’ve come round to my way of thinking.’
Hold on, what had I just agreed to?
‘Must dash, darling,’ Babs said. ‘Mwah!’
She hung up and I stared at the phone, wondering what she was planning. But then the make-up artist asked me to shut my eyes so she could put my false eyelashes on, and Marianne, the newsreader, started asking me about our dance, and I was caught up in the whirl that was show night on Strictly Stars Dancing.
The evening went by so fast, I felt dizzy. Just like last week it was a mixture of adrenaline, nerves, joy – every emotion. This time we were dancing last which was not fun as we had to stand and watch every other competitor doing their thing, feeling our nerves building until they were almost unbearable. But finally it was our turn.
‘Ready?’ Patrick whispered, as the band struck up ‘Fly Me to the Moon. ‘Let’s go.’
The dance went perfectly. I loved every second of it. I was Ginger Rogers, Doris Day and Marilyn Monroe all rolled into one. My heart was pounding and my cheeks were glowing. I was breathless and excited and just having so much fun.
As the dance ended, the audience exploded into applause and lots of them stood up. I was so thrilled I bounced up and down on my toes and Patrick gave me a huge bear hug.
‘Come here,’ said Melissa leading me over to the judges. ‘What a way to finish the show. That was wonderful.’
‘Oh, I loved it, I loved it,’ I said.
‘And you’ve got a special person in the audience tonight, haven’t you, Amy,’ Melissa said.
I beamed at her.
‘I have,’ I said, I turned round, searching for Cora, who I knew was sitting close to the band – I’d seen her when I’d come onto the dance floor and she’d given me a wink. But the presenter took my arm and turned me the oth
er way.
‘He’s over there,’ she said, conspiratorially. ‘And doesn’t he look proud?’
Confused, I looked over to where she pointed. Matty was sitting in the front row of the audience, clapping wildly. As I caught his eye, he blew me a kiss and the audience went crazy, whooping and shouting.
I froze, clutching Patrick’s arm. So that’s what Babs had told me. Why hadn’t I listened?
‘Keep smiling,’ Patrick said into my ear. ‘Keep smiling and it’ll all be over soon.’
So I brought out fake Amy Lavender. Smiling like a loon as the judges said nice things, none of which I listened to, and grinning as we got our (brilliant, actually) scores. And then I sneaked backstage and phoned Babs to shout at her, while she gushed at how fabulous it all was.
‘I don’t want to see him,’ I said. ‘I’m not speaking to him. Not now.’
‘You don’t have to, doll,’ she said. ‘Your face when you saw him says enough. It’ll be in all the papers tomorrow. And it’s online already. Everyone wants you back together. You’re going to be even bigger than you were before.’
‘Baaaaaabs,’ I wailed. ‘I don’t want him back. He’s a douchebag.’
‘He’s a what?’ Babs said.
‘That’s what Patrick calls him,’ I said. ‘He’s right. He is a douchebag. He cheated on me, Babs.’
‘He may have cheated on you,’ she said. ‘But he also helped create the Amy Lavender brand and you nearly destroyed that when you punched that little slut he was kissing. Matty is useful to us. Do you think you’d have got on Strictly Stars Dancing without being Matty’s ex?’
‘Maybe not,’ I said.
‘Definitely not,’ Babs snapped. ‘Listen, you guys are great together. You’re super-cute, super-photogenic, and he’s promised to give up all the other women. I’ll get you a holiday for after this dancing is over and you can go away, get some sun, have a bit of time together. You’ll soon see that you’re made for each other.’
‘I don’t want a holiday,’ I hissed down the phone, the anger I felt at being caught out making me bold. ‘And I don’t want Matty. I want an audition.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Babs said. ‘I know.’
Her voice softened.
‘Listen, Amy. Don’t you think you’ll be better sticking to what you know? You can make a lot of money this way – endorsements and clothing lines and all that.’
‘Babs,’ I began. ‘I’m an actress …’
‘I’ve had a call from Rosamund Street,’ she said. ‘They’re interested …’
‘Stop,’ I said. ‘I loved Turpin Road but I don’t want to do another soap. I want to do something different. A new challenge. I want to make the most of everything I learned on Turpin Road and take on something new.’
I took a deep breath. If I didn’t tell her now, I’d never do it.
‘I want to do Downton,’ I said.
There was a pause.
‘Okaaaaay.’ Babs sounded doubtful. ‘Well, I’ll see what I can do. But I’m sure they’ll be more interested if you’re more high-profile.’
‘It doesn’t have to be Downton,’ I said, starting to backtrack. ‘Anything Sunday night drama-y. That army thing, maybe? Or a crime thing? What about that forensics one? That’s good.’
‘I’ll sort it,’ Babs said, in a tone that made me think she wouldn’t. ‘But you need to keep up your side of the bargain. I’ve spoken to Matty’s agent and he agrees you’re better together. You can do this, Amy. You know it makes sense.’
‘So what about Matty and me – do we get a say in this?’
The silence at the end of the phone told me we probably didn’t.
I sighed.
‘I was doing okay, you know?’ I said. ‘I like dancing, I’ve made new friends. Tonight was amazing. And I’ve learned that I’m fine on my own, Babs. I’m even finally getting over my bloody mother sodding off to Spain, finally. I’m okay.’
‘I know, darling,’ Babs said. ‘I know.’
‘Matty broke my heart,’ I said. ‘And it was horrible and awful, but I’m doing fine now. I don’t want to go back there, Babs.’
‘You’re so much stronger than you think you are, doll,’ Babs said softly. ‘Own this. Make it yours. Go into it with your eyes open and make it work the way you want it to work.’
I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. I could hear the cheers of the audience in the studio and more than anything I wanted to be in there with Patrick, watching the dancing.
‘And you think it’ll help my career?’ I said.
‘I know it’ll help,’ Babs said. ‘If you do it on your own terms.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said.
‘Use him,’ she said bluntly. ‘Use Matty to keep your face in the magazines, then dump him when we don’t need him any more and make the most of that, too. This is just another step on your road to success, Amy.’
I shuddered.
‘That’s a terrible, terrible thing to do,’ I said.
‘It’s what Matty’s done up until now.’
She was right, even if it was hard to hear.
I took a breath.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘If you honestly think this is the right thing to do then I’ll think about it.’ I was annoyed that she’d taken the shine off the perfect evening but, as ever, I didn’t tell her what I was honestly thinking. ‘Just get me a bloody audition.’
I jabbed my phone crossly and went to get changed. I hung up my dress sadly, hoping I’d get to wear it again one day. Then I headed off to find Cora. She and Natasha had press tickets so we were meeting them in the bar, which was in a huge marquee at the side of the studio. I spotted them at once. Cora was regaling half the room with a story about something or other, and illustrating it with dance steps every so often. Around her, the professional dancers and contestants alike were rapt.
I hung back and watched her for a while. She really was wonderful.
‘She’s great, huh?’ Patrick came up behind me.
‘Oh, she’s amazing,’ I said.
He threw his arm casually round my shoulder and I felt my heart begin to beat a bit faster. What was going on here?
‘So what about Matty turning up?’ he said, nudging me.
I made a face. I couldn’t bear to talk about it.
‘Babs says it’s all part of her plan,’ I said. ‘It’s a nightmare.’
Patrick turned his head and kissed my temple. Immediately my legs went to jelly. I was relieved he still had his arm round me because, if he hadn’t, I was sure I’d have fallen over. Oh, Amy, I thought. You really are in trouble.
‘It’ll all work out,’ he said. ‘You’ll see.’
I gave him a weak smile.
‘I bloody hope so,’ I said.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I was up and at Cora’s kitchen door bright and early the next morning. So early, she was still in her dressing gown, pottering around the room, with her white hair in a cloud around her head.
‘Amy, dear God,’ she said, as I rattled the handle impatiently, waiting for her to let me in. ‘What on earth are you doing here so early on a Sunday morning?’
‘I need to speak to you,’ I said. ‘I need advice.’
Cora gave me a sharp look.
‘Is it romantic advice?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I wailed. ‘Please help me.’
‘I’m not the romantic type,’ she said. ‘And I’m not dressed.’
‘I’ll buy you breakfast,’ I said. ‘I’ll go now, and you can get dressed, and when I’m back with the food, we can eat and I’ll talk.’
Cora rolled her eyes.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I’m not promising that I’ll be any use.’
Thrilled and relieved in equal measure, I dashed off to the nearby cafe to buy two bacon sandwiches on their amazing freshly baked bread, plus some pastries, and fruit, and everything I could think of that would make a tasty breakfast.
I arranged it all on Cora’s kitchen tab
le, made some coffee and a pot of tea, then I sat and waited for her to appear.
She came down eventually, dressed in a white blouse and wide-legged black trousers. She’d done her hair and it was twisted into a knot on the back of her head, and she’d even put on some lipstick.
‘You’re so elegant,’ I sighed, looking at her with undisguised envy.
‘So are you,’ she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. ‘When you want to be.’
I glanced down at my jeans and slouchy T-shirt and grinned.
‘This is my Sunday outfit,’ I said.
Cora raised an eyebrow, but her smile told me she wasn’t really disappointed in me.
We sat and ate for a while, savouring the salty bacon and soft white bread, then she wiped her mouth carefully.
‘So, tell me,’ she said. ‘What’s bothering you?’
I sighed dramatically.
‘Matty,’ I said. ‘He was there, you know, last night?’
‘I saw. And I saw how you reacted when you spotted him. You weren’t pleased to see him?’
I shook my head.
‘He’s a douchebag,’ I said. ‘If he wants me back then it’s going to take more than Babs nagging me and him dragging his sorry arse to a television studio.’
‘Do you want him back? Cora asked.
I paused, with my mug of coffee halfway to my mouth.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t. But now Babs is saying we need him.’
Cora frowned.
‘And you listen to Babs because …?’
‘She’s my agent,’ I said. ‘She’s been really good to me over the years and I don’t want to lose her. She knows what she’s doing, Cora, and she’s really the only person I’ve got left.’
Cora looked disbelieving.
‘Well, that’s not true,’ she said. ‘I worked for an agent for several years, you know?’
‘I didn’t know that,’ I said, interested.
‘He was a theatrical agent at first – television wasn’t the big deal it is now, back then. He was brilliant at his job. He got my friend Audrey parts in all sorts of things – plays on the stage and on radio, a few films in the sixties, and when she’d all but given up acting, he was still trying to persuade her to go to auditions.’
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