by Lynne Shelby
I said, ‘I’ve been out with Daniel twice. And I’ve slept with him both times. Does that make us an item? Probably not, but I’d like it if we were.’
Cassie hesitated, and then she said, ‘Daniel Miller may be hot, but is he boyfriend material?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Cassie. But I’m sure going to enjoy finding out.’
From what my friends tell me, my mother must be the only woman in England who, when her adult daughter comes home for Christmas, doesn’t interrogate her about her love life, asking if she’s seeing anyone, if she’s met any nice men, if she has a boyfriend. Instead, the topics of conversation around my family’s festive dinner table ranged from my job, to Stephen’s latest commission, to the new apprentice at my mother’s garage, who had an uncanny ability to restore old motors. Which suited me just fine. Until I knew where I stood with Daniel, I had no wish to discuss him with my relatives.
After the turkey, the Christmas pudding and the crackers, we adjourned to the living room for a game of charades, a tradition at Christmas from as far back as I could remember, and then we opened our presents. Stephen and my mother gave me a leather jacket. It was a beautiful pale biscuit colour, and fitted me perfectly, and I suspected that Stephen had chosen it because my mother, who is happiest in the overalls she wears for work, is hopeless at shopping for clothes. Having thanked my parents profusely, I unwrapped my present from Dylan, and found myself holding a DVD of Fallen Angel. My brother was surprised at how delighted I was with his gift, and suggested that we all watch the film together. I couldn’t think of a way to get out of it that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. Which meant that the first time I saw Daniel Miller on screen, the circumstances were not ideal. There is something totally cringe-worthy about watching a guy you’ve slept with playing a sex-scene on the TV in the corner of your family’s living room. With your mother, step-father and brother watching too. I loved the film, though. And Daniel’s performance – when I managed to forget that my family were also viewing his tastefully lit musculature – took my breath away. (In the unlikely event that there is anyone who still hasn’t seen Fallen Angel, I won’t give away the plot, but I will say that a tear ran down my face in the final reel.)
As the end credits rolled, Stephen said, ‘I’m actually quite surprised at how good an actor that Daniel Miller is. I assumed it was his face that got him work.’
‘Because he’s beautiful, you didn’t think he’d be able to act?’ I said.
My mother muttered, ‘Handsome is as handsome does.’
‘People do get cast just on looks, though,’ Dylan said. ‘Isn’t that right, Lucy?’
‘It has been known to happen.’ So much for not talking about Daniel. ‘But not in his case. He’s very talented. And very charming.’ And very good in bed.
‘You’ve met him?’ Stephen asked.
‘Yes, I’ve met him several times.’ I’ve had hot sex with him in three different positions. He’s one of my agency’s most important clients.’
‘It must be weird meeting celebrities all the time,’ Dylan said.
‘It’s not all the time,’ I said. ‘And I’m used to it.’
‘I guess you must be,’ Dylan said, ‘since you live with Princess Snowdrop.’
We talked about Cassie then (I told them that she was dating Ryan Fleet. And swore them to secrecy, which they found faintly ridiculous), and for the moment, as far as my family was concerned, the Fallen Angel was forgotten.
Sometime later, my mother announced that she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She and Stephen headed off upstairs. Dylan and I did some sibling bonding over the last of the mince pies, and then he too said goodnight. I waited until I judged the others would be asleep, and then I watched Fallen Angel again, with the scenes that Daniel wasn’t in on fast forward. I also watched the DVD Extras, the deleted scenes and the interviews with the director and the cast, including Daniel’s interview (although I knew most of what he was saying about the shooting of the movie because he’d already told me to my face). Then, deciding that I was behaving more like a deranged obsessive fan than a girl who worked in showbusiness, I switched off the DVD player and went upstairs to the bedroom that had been Dylan’s before I’d moved to London.
I’d just climbed into the single bed that took up half the floor-space, when my phone vibrated with a text: Are you still awake? Cassie xx
I texted back that I was indeed, and almost immediately, she rang me.
‘I know it’s late,’ she said, breathlessly, ‘but now that Ryan’s asleep, I simply had to talk to you.’
‘Is everything OK?’ I said.
‘Oh, yes,’ Cassie said. ‘Everything’s wonderful. I’m calling because I wanted to tell you that I’ve had the most amazing day. Ryan’s family are lovely – they made me feel so welcome.’
I smiled. ‘That’s good to hear, Cassie.’
‘I don’t know why I was so worried about meeting them,’ Cassie continued. ‘Ryan’s mother was so kind to me. She told me she was really happy to have another woman in the house.’
‘I guess with a husband and four sons she must feel a little outnumbered at times.’
Cassie laughed. ‘That’s what she said.’ After a short silence, she added, ‘today reminded me of the Christmases I spent with your family. Ryan’s lot even played charades after lunch – just like your family used to do when we were children.’
‘We played charades today too,’ I said. ‘It wouldn’t be a proper Christmas without a game of charades.’
‘I want a large family,’ Cassie said. ‘Not right now, obviously, but one day I’d like to see my own children gathered around my table for Christmas lunch.’
‘Oh, me too,’ I said, ‘but not for years. Not for decades.’
Cassie laughed again. Then she said, ‘I suppose I’d better let you go to sleep – and get to bed myself. I want to be up early tomorrow to have breakfast with Ryan before he goes to football.’
‘Goodnight, then,’ I said. ‘I’m glad your first meeting with Ryan’s family went so well. Not that there was ever any reason why it shouldn’t.’
‘Goodnight, Lucy. Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas, Cassie.’
CHAPTER 10
Daniel came out of Eleanor’s office where he’d been discussing the last-minute changes to the script of Fallen Angel II (more nudity required) that were going to make his already considerable fee even more considerable, and walked over to my desk.
‘How long are you going to be?’ he said. ‘Shall I wait?’
‘I’ll be another hour at least,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you go home and start packing, and I’ll come straight over once I’ve finished here.’
Eleanor put her head round her office door. ‘Go with him now, Lucy. Make sure that he’s got everything he needs for tomorrow. Like his passport.’
‘The thing with the passport wasn’t really my fault, Eleanor,’ Daniel said with a flash of white teeth.
The previous week, he’d phoned Reardon Haye and announced that his passport had been stolen from his jacket (Eleanor assumed he’d lost it). Which was not good, as Fallen Angel II was due to start filming in a few days’ time. In New York. Fortunately, he was enough of a VIP to be fast-tracked at the passport office. (No, it’s not fair that A-listers get special treatment, but such is life.)
‘Lucy, I’m counting on you to see that he’s on that plane.’ Eleanor, immune to the charm of Daniel’s boyish grin, ducked back inside her office.
‘Looks like I’m coming home with you,’ I said to Daniel.
‘Have a good trip, Daniel,’ Maria said.
‘Yeah, hope the shoot goes well,’ Adrian added.
‘See you guys in two months,’ Daniel said.
I fought a rising panic. Two months. Daniel was going off on location for a whole two months. And I had no idea if our fledgling relationship was strong enough to survive.
I’d been dating him for six weeks now. After Christmas, I’d stay
ed on with my family, celebrating New Year’s Eve in our local pub, with Dylan and a crowd of our old school friends. On New Year’s Day, I’d headed back to London, and spent a quiet evening at home with Cassie and Ryan. On 2nd January, I went back to work, and scoured the internet for news of Daniel. There wasn’t any. On 3rd January, he’d called me.
We didn’t go out that night. Instead, I’d gone to his flat and he’d cooked (well, he’d micro-waved a ready-meal and lit a couple of candles), and we’d eaten and drunk wine, and then he taken me to his bed...
Since then we’d seen each other several times a week. The majority of our dates had been in fashionable bars and restaurants, but so far we’d managed to avoid the paparazzi, and the name of the Fallen Angel’s latest squeeze had not appeared in the press. I’d got used to being half of a couple, to sleeping next to Daniel’s toned, muscular body. To having him stop by my desk and kiss my cheek whenever he came into the agency (if Eleanor had any issues with my dating a client, she’d kept them to herself). To hearing him say to a radio interviewer that yes, he was seeing someone, but it was a very new relationship, so he’d rather not talk about it in case he jinxed it, and to know that he meant me. I didn’t want it all to end with him shagging his co-star in a New York hotel. Which, given his track record, was not entirely unlikely.
From inside her office, Eleanor said, ‘Mr Miller, why are you still here?’
Daniel laughed. ‘Bye then,’ he said to Adrian and Maria. ‘Keep an eye on Lucy for me while I’m in the States.’
‘We will,’ Maria said.
I grabbed my bag and my coat, and with Daniel’s hand resting on the small of my back, we headed out of the office.
Just as I was closing the door, I heard Maria say to Adrian, ‘He seems very keen on her.’
Daniel’s warm brown eyes met mine. ‘He is. She’s his girlfriend.’
‘Oh, Daniel…’ A warm glow spread through me as I realised it was the first time he’d called me his girlfriend to my face. I thought, maybe it’ll be OK. Maybe in two months he’ll come back to me.
We got into the lift, and he kissed me all the way down to the ground floor.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to the airport?’ I said to Daniel the next morning.
‘No, I hate airport goodbyes,’ Daniel said. ‘And there are always photographers hanging round the entrance to the VIP lounge. I don’t want us splashed across the tabloids just when I’m leaving the country. It wouldn’t be fair on you to have to deal with the press on your own.’
‘Oh. I forgot about the paparazzi.’ I put the idea of a romantic farewell at the airport (with me kissing my boyfriend in departures, before heading up to the viewing area to wave to his plane and maybe shed a few tears), out of my mind.
The ring of the front door bell told us that Daniel’s car had arrived. He pressed the intercom and told the driver he’d be down in five.
‘Have you got your passport?’ I asked.
‘Shhh.’ Daniel stood in front of me and put a finger on my lips. Then he kissed me, his tongue in my mouth, one arm about my waist, a hand entwined in my hair. I pressed myself against him, and felt him grow hard. With an effort I lifted my mouth from his, and stepped away from him. Both of us were gasping.
‘Daniel, you have to go,’ I said. ‘You’ll miss your plane.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Right now, I don’t care.’
Fighting the urge to tear off Daniel’s clothes, I opened the front door. With a sigh, he picked up the two suitcases that I’d packed for him (he’d turned out to be hopeless at packing) and headed towards the lift. I followed with his hand-luggage.
Outside, standing on the pavement, while the driver was stashing the suitcases in the boot, Daniel kissed me again. It was a tender, gentle kiss. Which was just as well – if he’d kissed me in the street the way he’d kissed me in the flat, we’d have been arrested. Then, without saying a word, he got into the car. I stood by the kerb, blinking back tears, as the car drove off. Daniel looked back once. Then he was gone. For two long months.
I went back into his flat, with the intention of tidying away the detritus of last night’s take-away (and having a good cry), before taking myself back to Cassie’s house. There, on the dining table, was Daniel’s passport.
CHAPTER 11
‘Oh, no,’ Cassie said. ‘What did you do?’
‘I called his mobile,’ I said. ‘And told him to have the car turn around and come back for it. Fortunately, he hadn’t gone very far.’
‘He still made his flight?’
‘Just. Thank goodness. Or I’d never have been able to face Eleanor on Monday.’ We were drinking coffee in Cassie’s living room. It was still only mid-morning, but it seemed ages since Daniel had kissed me and said goodbye.
‘And are you all right, Lucy?’ Cassie said. ‘I remember when Ryan went to Spain, I felt awful.’
‘I’m OK now,’ I said. ‘When Daniel left for the airport, I was ready to howl. But then, when I found his passport, I had to pull myself together. I’ll miss him while he’s away, but I’m not about to start wallowing on your sofa all day in my pyjamas.’
‘I should think not,’ Cassie said. ‘Besides, you can always fly out and visit him. I’m sure Reardon Haye can manage without you for a few days. Take some leave when Daniel’s halfway through the shoot.’
‘I thought of that.’ Unfortunately Daniel hadn’t thought of it. Or if he had thought of it, he hadn’t mentioned it. ‘But he’s going to be working six days a week.’
‘That still leaves one day when he can be with you. And the nights.’
Nights spent in Daniel’s bed, I thought. Yes please. Aloud I said, ‘Plane tickets to New York are expensive.’
‘I’ll pay,’ Cassie said.
‘I couldn’t let you do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It wouldn’t feel right.’
‘I would very much like to pay for your plane tickets so that you get to visit Daniel while he’s away on location,’ Cassie said. ‘Look on it as my way of paying back a little of what I owe your family.’
‘You don’t owe my family anything. We all loved having you spend time with us – we missed you when you moved away.’
Cassie’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘You really don’t get it, do you, Lucy?’
‘Get what?’
‘Come with me,’ Cassie said.
Bemused, I got up and followed her out of the living room, along the hallway and out the front door. She crossed the road and stood on the opposite kerb, facing her house. I stood next to her.
‘Why do you think I bought this place?’ she said to me.
I thought, I have absolutely no idea. ‘Because it’s the sort of house a TV star would live in?’
‘Look at it more carefully.’
I studied the house, but nothing came to me.
Cassie said, ‘I bought it because it reminded me of your dolls house.’
I was taken aback. ‘I suppose it does look like it. A bit. If it were pink and not white –’
Cassie was striding back across the road. Mildly alarmed by her erratic behaviour, I hurried after her.
Back in the living room, seated on the sofa, her legs curled up under her, she said, ‘You probably think I’m crazy.’
‘No I don’t. Well, maybe just a little. But I’m sure you’re crazy in a good way. I mean, why not buy a house because it looks like a dolls house you played with when you were a child?’
‘I want you to understand how important you and your family are to me.’
‘I get that.’
‘I don’t think you do.’ For a moment, Cassie stared off into the distance, and then she said, ‘How much exactly do you know about my parents?’
‘I know they more or less left you to fend for yourself.’ Even when we were children, I’d known that Cassie’s parents didn’t look after her the way my parents looked after me and Dylan. I’d accepted, without question,
my mother’s explanation that Cassie’s parents were ‘too tired’ to take her to school or go to work, even while sensing her disapproval. Back then, I’d been too young to understand words like ‘feckless’ and ‘neglect.’
‘My father,’ Cassie said, ‘was a drug addict and a thief who was in and out of prison. My mother was an alcoholic who brought men back to our house and went with them for money. The reason we upped and left the area when I was thirteen was because my father couldn’t pay his dealer what he owed and it wasn’t safe for us to stay. We moved around a lot, and ended up living in a squat. A few months later, I was taken into care. I haven’t seen my parents since. Thank God.’
There was a long silence while I absorbed what she had told me.
Eventually I said, ‘I’d no idea. I – I’m so sorry.’ My words sounded hopelessly inadequate.
‘No-one knew quite how bad things were for me at home. Not even Laura and Stephen.’
‘But… why didn’t you tell them?’
‘I was a child,’ Cassie said, ‘and children don’t see things the same way as adults. I got it into my head that your parents wouldn’t like me anymore – or let me play with you and Dylan – if they knew.’
‘Oh, Cassie, that would never have happened.’ A memory surfaced of me and my mother surveying the racks of newly-arrived Princess Snowdrop DVDs in our local supermarket, not long after the first series had been shown on TV. Having exclaimed with pleasure over her success as an actress, my mother had told me how concerned she and Stephen had been for the neglected Cassie, and how they’d often wondered if they could – or should – have done more for her. ‘My parents would have wanted to help you,’ I said.
‘They did help me,’ Cassie said. ‘If it hadn’t been for their welcoming me into their home, I’d have no idea how normal, decent people live or how they care for their children, no idea what it’s like to be part of a loving family. If it wasn’t for Stephen helping me with my homework and lending me books, I’d be illiterate, and even more ignorant than I am now. If Laura hadn’t fed me, I’d have gone hungry. If she hadn’t told me that a woman can do anything, be anything, if she puts her mind to it, I’d have probably ended up on the street.’