by Clare Revell
Eva glanced at the X-ray. She sucked in a deep breath, gripped the walker tightly, and shifted her weight a little.
Strong hands gripped her around the waist. “Up we go.”
Her legs shook and her knees threatened to buckle. Pins and needles shot through her feet, making her cry out.
“You all right? What hurts?”
“Feet…Pins and needles,” she gasped.
“That’s normal. Sit a minute and put your feet on my lap.”
She did so and cringed as he massaged her feet, wanting to move them, but letting him do what he needed.
“Just work through the discomfort, wiggle your toes like before.”
Eva scrunched up her face, trying to do what he asked. After a couple of minutes, she opened her eyes. “OK, it’s gone.”
“Right. Now, just like before.” He grasped her waist. “On three, one, two and up.”
She pushed upright, gripping the walker tightly. This time her legs held, and Darrell let go of her waist. She hadn’t been upright in so long, her head spun and she was dizzy with vertigo. She opened her eyes as someone called her name. “Yes?”
“OK, look at me. Now, what scares you about standing and walking? And don’t say falling, because you’re standing now.”
“Not scared.”
“You are, and until you get past that, your mind will not allow you to walk. Now what scares you?”
“Fine,” she managed. “Sue died because of me.”
Darrell studied her. “That wasn’t your fault. What else?”
Eva leaned on the frame, shifting her weight as she slid a foot forwards. “Rain, being outside, not waking up when I sleep, having everyone pity me, not being able to do stuff, failing.”
He smiled. “That’s quite a list.”
“And I don’t need you laughing at me either. What kind of a doctor are you?”
“I’m not laughing Eva. You’ve been standing unaided for a good five minutes and taken at least three steps towards me.”
She looked at him. “What?”
“You even let go of the frame at one point to wave your hands at me.”
“Oh.” Her legs gave.
Darrell caught her, sat her down. “You need to put all that anger and fear into getting better. Now are you going to take a walker home with you or crutches?”
“Crutches.” Eva took a deep breath. “Might as well go the whole hog.” She gripped the crutches he gave her tightly and spent the next five minutes practicing standing and sitting and taking one step. “I don’t want you telling Harry any of this,” she said.
“I promise. Now, I’m going to give you a list of exercises to do before I see you again at the end of next week.” He tilted his head. “And before you mention the cost, we’ll worry about that later. The important thing is to build on what you just did. Just bear in mind that you haven’t used your legs in a good few months. You’ll be weak at first, but the more you use them, the more your muscles will remember, and the stronger you’ll become.” He pushed the chair back to reception. “See you next week.”
Felicity stood, her eyes widening as she saw the crutches. “Evie?”
Eva glanced at Darrell and then leaned the crutches against the side of the chair. She grabbed her sister’s hands. “Got something to show you.” Taking a deep breath, she stood.
Felicity screamed and hugged her tightly. “That’s a real answer to prayer. We need to go home and show everyone.” She looked at Darrell. “Thank you so, so much, Mr. Lyell. You’re a miracle worker.”
Darrell grinned. “Thank you, but it was nothing I did. It was all God. See you next week, Eva. Take care now.”
Eva sat down again. “I will.” Her gaze fell on a magazine on the table with Harry on the front cover. “You read this one?”
Felicity shook her head, not looking up from her phone. “No. I can’t get a signal, just popping outside to call the driver; then I’ll be back.”
Eva nodded, flicking through the magazine to find the interview with Harry. Numbness spread from her fingertips, up her arms, to her heart. Picture after picture of Harry shirtless on a beach with a woman equally scantily clad filled several pages. She checked the date on the front cover—it was the current issue.
Her gaze went back to the photos. Matthew Lyell on romantic getaway with friend the headline screamed. The friend was listed as Joanne Finch, twenty-three. The pictures got worse and worse until they were more than slightly compromising.
Tears filled Eva’s eyes. She was a fool. He didn’t love her. He never could. She was a no one.
“Evie, are you all right?”
Eva looked up, closing the magazine. “I’m fine, Fi. Let’s go home.”
“We’ll pick one of those up on the way.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I do. I want to read about this boyfriend of yours.”
Eva shook her head. “You really don’t.”
Felicity took the magazine and flicked through it. Her eyes widened as she saw the photos. “Oh, Evie…”
Eva picked up the crutches, not bothering to hide the tears. “Can we please go home now? And you’re not to tell anyone I can stand.”
10
Harry sat in his dressing room, drumming his fingers on the table. He’d gotten as far as he could, but didn’t want to start his own makeup in case Eva arrived. He’d give her another five minutes, then do it himself. He’d watched her enough to know what to do. The door opened and Eva sat in the doorway. He beamed. “Hey, how did it go?”
He stood and crossed rapidly to the chair, bending to kiss her. She turned her face away, backing the chair from him. He frowned, his joy at seeing her replaced with concern. “Eva?”
“It was fine.” Her tone was as flat as her whole demeanor.
“Fine? It doesn’t sound fine.”
“I said it was fine. He did loads of tests and stuff, and I’m now running late. We need to do your makeup.”
Harry sat down and laid back for her, shifting down so his head was in her lap. He looked up at her. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she’d been crying. Had he done the wrong thing in insisting she went to see Darrell? “What’s wrong, love?”
Eva visibly froze at the term of endearment. Her eyes clouded and her hands stilled. “Why should there be anything wrong?” she snapped.
“You just seem out of sorts.” He wasn’t going to mention the crying. He’d like his head left on his shoulders if at all possible.
“I’m tired.”
“It’s more than that.” He reached up for her.
Eva pulled back, raising her hands. “Will you keep still? Or you’ll end up looking stupid.”
“Fine.” Harry dropped his arm and closed his eyes. Darrell had given her bad news. There was no other explanation for her mood.
She worked in silence for a few more minutes. “You’re done. You know how to take it off, right?”
Harry looked at her. “Yes, but…”
“Good. I’m going home. I’ll be back to put it on for the evening performance.”
He opened the door for her and stood in dismay as she negotiated her way past without even a goodbye. His stomach pitted and he slammed the door harder than necessary. He yanked his phone from his jacket and rang his brother. “Darrell, it’s me.”
“Hey, Harry. How’s it going? Shouldn’t you be on stage?”
“In a bit. Needed to speak to you first.”
“Have you seen Eva? She was desperate to talk to you.”
“Yes, I have. What did you do to her?”
The cheerfulness left his brother’s tone. “I’m sorry?”
“She’s in a foul mood and barely speaking to me. What did you tell her?”
“Harry, I promise, she was fine when I saw her last. And she made me promise not to tell you anything. She wants to tell you herself.”
Harry groaned in anger and frustration. He hung up and hurled the phone across the room. Then he shook himself and dropped
to his knees, praying hard. The only person who could resolve this wasn’t him or Eva.
“Mr. Lyell, five minutes.”
“OK.” He reached for his phone, surprised it was still working, and sent Eva a text. What have I done? Can I see you, talk about it?
No came the almost immediate reply. Sleeping ’til tonight’s show. Phone off now.
Harry’s heart sank. The last thing he wanted to do was go on stage and act the villain and make people laugh. But, the proverbial show must go on, and the professional that he was locked away his emotions until later.
But by seven, he was really het up. He’d spent the couple of hours between shows pacing his dressing room. At a knock on the door, he flung it open. “Eva…”
She wheeled herself into the room. “I’ve come to do your makeup.”
He shut the door. “Not until we talk about this. What have I done?”
“Sit.” She jerked her head at the chair as she pulled the makeup tubs towards her. “I’m here to work, not chit-chat.”
He automatically went to shove his hands into his pocket, for them to fall uselessly at his side. His costume didn’t have pockets. “Not until you tell me what has upset you. I have been wracking my brains all afternoon and can’t think of anything. Unless Darrell gave you bad news and you’re blaming me for sending you to see him.”
“Fine.” Her voice shook, rage flickered in her eyes. “Am I just a publicity stunt? Another photo opportunity for you? A way to enhance your image?”
Flummoxed he pushed his hands through his hair, dislodging the hairnet. “Huh?”
“Be nice to the crippled girl and get a load more people through the doors of the theatre and enhance your career some more. Meanwhile your publicist has us followed so that the pictures end up in the papers and maybe another huge spread in a magazine. Just like your romantic getaway on a beach with Joanne Finch, last month.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You were shirtless. She was topless. You were frolicking on a beach, kissing her, reaching for her, touching her. Or do you kiss so many naked women you don’t remember their names? The photos are all over this month’s Film Quarterly if you need reminding.”
The penny dropped. “Eva, it’s not what you think.”
“It never is, is it?” Her voice rose, shaking with anger.
“Eva, please.” He held out a placating hand.
“You know what? You can do your own makeup. I don’t want to look at you right now, never mind touch you.”
She turned the chair around and headed across the room.
Harry dodged past her and slammed the door shut as she opened it. The light on the ceiling vibrated with the amount of force he used. He leaned against the door frame, blocking her exit, and folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t you dare walk out on me.”
“I’m not,” she yelled back. “I’m rolling out on you! Now open that door or I’m going to scream and have every security guard in the place running in here.”
Stifling his cry of frustration, Harry flung open the door. “Fine, leave.”
Eva brushed past him, barely missing both his toes, and Felicity and April who stood in the hallway.
Great, just what he needed. And they’d heard every word, judging by the looks of concern.
“Is everything all right, Eva?” April asked.
Eva scowled. “Ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Everything is just fine.” Her voice was tight, her fingers curled into fists, and she looked anything but fine.
Harry knew April wasn’t falling for this. He shook his head and leaned across the door frame, blocking anyone access to his dressing room. “It’s just a slight difference of opinion. Eva’s had a long day, so I’ll do my own makeup tonight.”
April looked from one to the other. “Eva?”
“It’s personal,” Eva muttered.
April frowned. “Fi just told me you two were an item.”
“Not anymore,” Eva told her.
Shock hit Harry hard in the stomach. She was ending things? Like this?
And telling his employer rather than him? Did he really know Eva at all? Or was his gut instinct right and her tiredness just meant she wasn’t thinking straight? He’d give her time to calm down, and then explain the truth to her.
Felicity looked as shocked as he felt. “Eva?”
Eva shook her head. “I’d like to go home now. I’m not needed if Mr. Lyell is doing his own makeup tonight.”
“Before you go,” April said, “is working together in the future going to be a problem? Because we still have several weeks of the run to go.”
“Not for me,” Harry said quickly.
Eva didn’t answer, just shook her head.
April nodded. “Good. Fi, take her home. Eva, I’ll expect you in at the usual time tomorrow.”
Harry watched Eva wheel herself down the corridor. He had to find out who leaked those pictures and tonight. Because there was only one film they could have come from and the director had promised him that footage was destroyed, so that no one could read into it what Eva had.
He dialed his agent and left a terse message on the answerphone, threatening legal action against the director, photographer and anyone else he found out was involved.
Harry valued his reputation and if it was tarnished, then so was his witness for God in an industry it was increasingly hard for a Christian to work in.
~*~
Eva found things progressively unbearable the next couple of days.
She went to work long enough to do Harry’s makeup and then left. Seeing him, knowing how he’d used her, lied to her, made her believe in his Christian act, was more than her heart could bear. She did her job without speaking to Harry—if she could quit she would, but why should she let him win? She’d done nothing wrong, and she needed the job.
Harry rang several times a day, but she refused to take his calls. Flowers arrived with a card in his handwriting, but she refused to accept them. She later found them in a vase in the lounge, but passed no comment.
Every spare moment she had, she spent in her bedroom—doing the exercises she’d been given and pulling herself to her feet. She became expert at using the crutches, pouring all her anger and fear into every step as Darrell had suggested. The problem was she’d fallen in love with Harry. Loved him so very much, but he’d used her and that hurt more than her aching muscles did.
She didn’t go to church on Sunday. Not even the prospect of a family meal out after the morning service could raise her spirits. She listened to the service on line and then pulled herself up again. She would try walking to the kitchen to shove the ready meal Mum had left for her into the microwave.
Eva gripped the dressing table and reached for the crutches. She lost her balance and fell hard, hitting her head on the edge of the dressing table on the way down. Stars flashed in front of her eyes and she cried out in pain. She lay there, not sure how she could get up. She hadn’t tried it from the floor before. She turned onto her back. “Now what?”
The doorbell echoed in the quiet house. Eva pushed the crutches under the bed where they lived and held her breath. It sounded again, and then the letterbox moved.
“Eva?” Harry’s voice. “Eva, I know you’re there. Your mum said it was OK if I came over. I need to talk to you.”
She didn’t answer. Just bit her lip, praying he’d go away. She didn’t want to see him, not like this, not sprawled on the floor in a most undignified fashion and unable to get up.
Footsteps came from outside the open window and a hand tapped on it. She groaned, remembering too late the net curtains were in the laundry and whoever was out there could see straight in.
“Eva!” Harry knocked on the window. “Are you OK?”
She shook her head. She was dying inside, without him she’d never be OK, but he couldn’t know that.
Harry managed to slide his hand in far enough to unlatch the window. He swung
it open wide and climbed in. He was at her side in three long strides. “What happened?”
Glad she’d hidden the crutches, Eva looked at him. “I fell.”
“I can see that.”
“What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Breaking in.” There was a faint smirk on his face.
“I can see that.”
Harry picked her up and set her in the wheelchair. “You cut your head.” He sat on the bed and pressed a tissue to the lump.
She winced, hissing in pain. She hadn’t realized she’d cut it, but then she’d been thinking about other things.
Harry kept up the pressure, then pulled the tissue away. “Don’t think there’s any lasting damage. Eva, look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his. “So why are you here?”
“I came to give you these. Front row seats for you and your parents to the Christmas Eve matinee tomorrow. My parents and Darrell are coming too, so I got a group booking.” He held out the tickets, but Eva didn’t take them. He put them on the bed. “I’ll leave them here.”
He stood and took three paces to the door.
Then he turned. “Eva, you don’t want my explanation, but you’re going to get it. I have a strict code when I film. No nudity. No sex. It’s in my contract with my agent, and I won’t touch anything that goes against that. Jo and I were filming in Jamaica over the summer. A beach scene hence the fact I have no shirt on. Her bikini top broke and fell off. I was reaching out to her with a shirt. That photograph you saw was doctored.”
Eva looked at him.
Harry pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. “These are the original screen shots. My lawyer is going to sue the magazine and any other publication that printed the edited versions. All the money will go to charity.” He paused, dropping the envelope next to the theatre tickets. “Eva, I only want one woman and that’s you. But if you don’t want me, or can’t trust me, then I’ll leave once the panto is over and won’t look back. It’s your choice.”
Tears ran down Eva’s face as he walked out. She didn’t move until the front door shut. She reached for the envelope and opened it. She sifted through the photos, finding the one of Harry with a tee shirt clearly visible in his hand.