by Jo Bartlett
‘Not nearly as much as I thought it would. Other people are more bothered about it than me, which says a lot.’ The outpourings of sympathy posted on his Twitter page, following Susie-Anne’s announcement on her own site that the pregnancy had been a ‘false alarm’, had shocked him. It certainly took her a long time to work that out, and funny how it coincided with her hooking up with Michael Cox, but all Tom felt was guilt. Guilt that people with enough to worry about in their own lives were out there feeling sorry for him, one person in particular. The impact of that was his only regret. He felt nothing for Susie-Anne at all. Perhaps he should have felt humiliated, but if he was honest he’d been more embarrassed about sleeping with her in the first place. Coming out of all this as the wronged ‘good guy’ was no bad thing. Better than the slaughtering he would have got in the press if he’d have been the one to walk out, after the baby was born, which had always been his intention.
‘That’s good then, I’m glad you’re okay about it all,’ Angus didn’t sound convinced. ‘Shall I cancel the spread we had planned for Susie-Anne’s take on Thanksgiving? It’s no skin off my nose and I can understand you not wanting to work with her.’
‘God, no, absolutely not!’ Tom’s response was the strongest reaction he’d felt all day. ‘I told her this morning that everything will carry on as normal, I’m still her agent. Her profile right now is higher than it’s ever been and she’s going to be in demand. There might as well be some upside to knowing her!’ Tom laughed at the look of shock he’d provoked. ‘Come on, don’t tell me the editor of Glitz is getting confused between celebrity and real life?’
‘Aye, I know I shouldn’t be shocked at anything after all these years but…’ Angus didn’t finish the sentence.
‘There’s no buts, we signed up for this and sold our souls at the door.’ Tom felt a fraction of his newfound lightness slip away. He might not be with Susie-Anne anymore, but the business meant that there were a thousand other Susie-Annes just waiting for their shot and prepared to do almost anything to get it. ‘Come on, no more talking about my ex-fiancée, let’s sort out this Chloe Nicholas situation instead. At least there’s a girl whose soul we’ve got a chance of saving.’
Chapter Six
By the time they got back to Sandgate, Ashleigh had things in perspective. It seemed surreal that someone like Susie-Anne, who could pull a premiership footballer at will, would fake a pregnancy to try and trap Tom. She’d spent the first half of the train journey panicking about losing her job, until a family had got on at Ashford and she’d watched the dad talking to his excited little girl about their weekend away by the coast.
For the first time since the news about Susie-Anne and Michael Cox had come out, she’d thought about Tom and hoped he was okay. Up until then, it had helped her to dehumanise him, to take the edge off the attraction she didn’t want to feel.
But she knew he’d wanted to be with the child he thought he was having, enough to offer to marry a woman he clearly didn’t love. It put it all into context; there was a good chance she’d lost her most regular gig because of Jade Ivory, but she hadn’t lost anything really important to her. Not like Tom.
****
Ashleigh and Stevie followed the promenade from the train station towards her flat at the end of Beach Road. The cliffs which faced the beach loomed up ahead, the cottage where her Mum and Step-dad lived prominent at their highest point.
Sandgate was where her heart was, she could breathe there, even if it did mean that her mother might descend on her at any moment.
‘On my God!’ Yanking Stevie’s arm, she stopped him in his tracks. ‘What the hell has she done now!’ Even from the roadside, several hundred yards away, the twelve-foot high, homemade mural of the Nativity was obvious.
‘Wow, that’s so… Carol!’ Stevie started to laugh and didn’t seem able to stop.
‘I was worried she’d do something like this.’ Ashleigh shuddered. Still it wasn’t the worst thing her mother had ever done. The thought of that life drawing class at Art College still made her skin prickle.
‘I didn’t realise she was that religious.’ Stevie could barely get the words out and had tears streaming down his face.
‘She’s not.’ Ashleigh shrugged. ‘But the town council put an article in their newsletter suggesting that locals shouldn’t put up outside Christmas decorations – in case it upsets anyone from another faith. You know no one has ever been able to tell Mum what to do. God only knows what will be up there in a couple of months’ time, it’s only October and she’s already got enough decorations to put Blackpool to shame.’
‘Christ. Literally!’ Stevie tried and failed to stop laughing. ‘I have to say it’s magnificently awful and could only be your Mum’s work! God knows I love your Mum to bits, but…’
‘You wouldn’t want her to be yours, right?’ Ashleigh rolled her eyes as he nodded. ‘It’s my lucky day. Losing my job and coming home to a lovely reminder that at least half my genes were provided by a stark raving lunatic,’ Despite herself, she laughed. ‘Come on then. Let’s go home and drown our sorrows. We can have a closer look at Mum’s glorious art work later.’
****
Stevie had spent the afternoon making calls to the designers he thought might be most willing to loan him some dresses for the Chloe Nicholas shoot. Although Ashleigh secretly thought he was wasting his time, since Tom was bound to hold Jade Ivory’s article against them. Pretending to work on enhancing some of the photos she’d taken for her London life collection, she’d really spent most of the time reading news feeds about Susie-Anne. By early evening they were both ready to relax and forget about work and everything else for a while.
‘This is why I could never live in London full time.’ A glass of wine helped to ease the tension from her back as she stretched her legs out in front of her, on the window seat at her flat. The view was always beautiful, whether it was miles of calm blue sea, or stormy grey waters smashing against the sea wall.
‘Yeah, it’s great, but seen one sea, seen ‘em all.’ Stevie was deadly serious. He’d like nothing better than for her to make the move to London and share a flat with him, so he could move out of the shoe box; he’d told her often enough.
‘You’re such a philistine!’ Ashleigh couldn’t reach the chair he was sitting in; otherwise she’d have given him a dig in the ribs. ‘Do you think we should ring Angus and check if we’re still on for Chloe’s shoot?’ The fall-out from Susie-Anne’s indiscretions was never far away.
‘I guess so.’ Stevie curled his long legs underneath him on the chair and closed his eyes. ‘I think I’ll put it off until tomorrow though, have some more wine and a nice little sleep.’ His glass of red was resting precariously on the arm of the chair until the mobile in the pocket of his jeans started to vibrate and he jumped, sending wine in a spray of red that made the flat look like something out of CSI New York.
‘Oh shit, sorry honey.’ Stevie leapt to his feet, the wine soaking into his jeans. ‘It’s probably ruined my mobile and your floor.’ His phone stopped vibrating and he fished the soggy looking handset out of his pocket.
‘Don’t worry about the floor, I’ll sort it out.’ Ashleigh didn’t fuss over things like a spilt wine; it was one of the reasons they’d make great flat mates – they were both walking disasters. ‘Go and sort your phone, get changed and I’ll pour you another drink.’
The kitchen in the flat was quite small, most of the floor space having been given up to the large open plan lounge and dining room with the sea view. Ashleigh was rummaging in the cupboard, where she kept her limited stock of red wine, when the doorbell rang.
‘That better not be early trick or treaters or God help them!’ In an effort to relax, she’d put on an old pair of PJs and some slippers in the shape of caveman feet, which her little brother had bought the previous Christmas and which she’d never dreamt of wearing before.
‘In
teresting outfit!’ Tom was definitely suppressing a grin and it would have been less of a surprise if the Queen had turned up on the doorstep. ‘Am I coming in?’
Considering he’d just had his heart broken, he looked great - wrapped up against the cold in a black sweater and grey jacket with jeans that fitted perfectly and accentuated his lean, muscular legs. Acutely aware of her tatty pyjamas, Ashleigh could do nothing to stop a blush creeping up her neck.
‘Yes, come in. Can I get you a drink?’ She gripped the new bottle of red by its neck. Did someone like Tom drink £3.99 supermarket plonk? Probably not.
‘I’ve got to drive back to London so I won’t, thanks.’ He followed her in to the small galley kitchen, the walls of which were closing in. It was as though he filled every bit of space and Ashleigh was scared to move in case she accidently touched him. ‘I’d love a coffee though, if you have some?’
‘You’d be forgiven for thinking that I’m an alcoholic, what with answering the door clutching my wine, but I do have coffee.’ She moved across to the kettle, trying not to imagine Tom looking at the size of her bum in the hideously unflattering pyjamas. It was getting hotter still.
‘Do you want milk?’ Please let him say no, otherwise she’d have to reach down to the lowest shelf of the fridge and the bottom waggling would only get worse.
‘No thanks, I’ll take it black,’ Tom leant against the kitchen work surface.
‘Can I ask what you’re doing here?’ Ashleigh was damned if she was going to stand around exchanging pleasantries with someone about to sack her.
‘Angus gave me your address,’ She tried not to let the surprise show on her face as he spoke. ‘I know, I know, it’s not the done thing, but actually he was concerned about you. He thought you might be worried that I’d blame you for the Susie-Anne thing, given the fact that the so-called journalist seems to have you as a first-hand source.’ He took a sip of the coffee. It must have been scalding hot, but his face didn’t flicker as he swallowed. ‘Anyway, I told him I had no issue with you and Stevie. I know you weren’t part of the deal, just in the wrong place at the wrong time and I don’t suppose you were the only ones to have an opinion on our relationship. You were just unlucky enough to be the ones overheard discussing it. You’ve got form on that front after all!’
‘Thank you!’ She was so relieved she kissed him on the cheek, the blush back with a vengeance. God, was she 28 or 13? ‘Did you really drive all the way down here just to tell me that?’ For some reason she was absurdly flattered.
‘No.’ He smiled nonchalantly, the feeling crushed. ‘I was going to ring you, but when I spoke to Angus he told me you lived in Sandgate and I happened to be down the road in Hythe at the time, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.’ He took another sip of coffee and she wished for about the millionth time that she too could perfect a devil may care expression, instead of constantly turning beetroot with embarrassment. It was just a coincidence that he’d been five minutes away, nothing more. A second before she’d been delirious just to know that she wasn’t getting the sack. There was absolutely no reason to be disappointed.
‘Why Hythe? Not exactly a well-known celebrity hang out is it?’ Desperate to take Tom through to the lounge, Ashleigh was finding their physical proximity incredibly distracting. But the prospect of Stevie marching in naked and announcing that he couldn’t get the red wine stain out of his Calvin Kleins was too much of a risk.
‘I was visiting my mum. She lives there. Has done since before my father died over ten years ago, but they’ve always lived in the area.’
‘Your mum? I never thought of you as someone who had family.’ Oh God, the Tourette’s was back, why the hell did she say these things?
‘Did you think I was beamed down from Mars then?’ There was that half smile at the corners of his mouth again.
‘I’m so sorry.’ The heat of the blush deepened further, she must look like she’d fallen asleep on a sun-bed by now. ‘I just meant, you seem so business-like, I never thought of you like… that.’ Digging herself in even deeper, she changed the subject. ‘I’m really sorry about Susie-Anne too.’
‘I’m not,’ Tom turned to look at her. ‘At least not about her. It wasn’t just the Michael Cox thing. I expect you read all about it, but it turns out she’s not even pregnant.’ She couldn’t read his expression, but there was no need to tell him that she’d been glued to her iPad for half of the day, following the revelations as they’d emerged. The beans had been well and truly spilt already. ‘Sure, I’m disappointed about the baby, that’s why I came down to see mum, to tell her in person that she won’t be a grandma after all.’ There was a note of resignation in his voice that was at odds with his usual demeanour. There would be plenty of girls out there only too willing to fill Susie-Anne’s vacant spot in his bed and provide as many babies as he wanted, but perhaps the hurt was much deeper than he cared to admit.
‘Maybe not this time, but I’m sure there’s no shortage of girls who’d be happy to oblige.’ It was crasser than she’d intended, but it was true; he could take his pick of women and, from what Zac had told her, he probably did.
‘It’s never been in my game plan.’ Tom took another swig of coffee. ‘I like my life as it is and so it wasn’t something I’ve even thought about. Maybe the rumours about me are true, that I’m too ambitious for all that.’ He gave a wry smile and Ashleigh did her best to feign a look of surprise that such rumours circulated. He paused, as though he was about to say something else, but his phone started to ring, looking at the screen, he ended the call.
‘You can take that if you need to.’ She didn’t know why she said it; it wasn’t as though Tom was the sort to ignore an important call out of politeness.
‘No, it’s nothing that can’t wait.’ He looked at her for a moment. ‘What was I saying?’
‘I think you were about to tell me why now and with Susie-Anne?’ She just managed to stop herself adding of all people.
‘Was I?’ He laughed and gave a half-shrug. ‘It was, shall we say, a surprise.’ Something in his expression changed, another flash of vulnerability. For a long moment he didn’t say anything. ‘You know maybe I should sack you and give you the chance to find your true vocation.’
‘Charming! There are people who actually think I’m quite a good photographer and that I might already have found my vocation.’ She attempted indignation, but a slow smile had spread across his face and it was obvious his comments were no slight on her work.
‘I’m told you’re very good, but I think you might make an even better counsellor or maybe a priest. I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t seem to stop telling you things that I wasn’t planning to share.’
‘So, tell me, how long has it been since your last confession?’ She gave him a pious look and he took a deep breath, as if he really was about to confess some terrible sin. His phone rang again, but this time he turned it off.
‘It’s been far too long, but this isn’t really about me.’ He paused and took another deep breath, as though trying to control emotions bubbling uncomfortably close to the surface. ‘Mum has leukaemia; the doctors say that they can manage it for now, but there’s no cure and so it’s only a matter of time. I’m an only child, so as far as her chance for a grandchild goes...’
‘I’m sorry, I really am. I had no idea.’ Almost unconsciously, she reached across and put her hand over his, the space between them disappearing in more ways than one.
‘Why should you know? I don’t really know why I’m telling you now.’ For a second there was that look again; she caught a waft of his aftershave, it was subtle and expensive smelling.
Somehow her fingers had curled around his and, without saying anything, he kissed her. It was gentle and very, very good and she didn’t ever want it to stop. Tom pulled away and looked at her, the tension between them palpable.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t
have done that, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it.’
‘Oh. Hello! Am I interrupting something?’ Suddenly Stevie was framed in the doorway, wearing nothing but his lucky underpants. A familiar heat washed over Ashleigh. Just how much had he’d witnessed?
‘Tom kindly came to tell us that we’ve held on to our jobs… again.’ She’d snatched her hand away from his as soon as she’d seen Stevie.
‘That’s great, thanks mate.’ Stevie clapped Tom on the back and appeared completely unfazed by the fact he was only wearing the skimpiest of pants. ‘There’s more good news too, honey!’ He was bouncing with excitement. ‘That was Angus on the phone. I called him back and he’s given me Zac Starr’s new number for you. Apparently his last fiancée has started stalking him, so he had to change his mobile. Angus has a message to pass on from him too. Zac said that the album shoot is yours, as long as you follow through with the shag you promised him!’ Stevie threw back his head and laughed, oblivious to the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. ‘Now get those hideous slippers off and your glad rags on, I’m taking us out to celebrate! You too, Tom, if you fancy it?’ In a whirl Stevie was gone, unaware of the impact he’d had.
‘Look, thanks for the coffee, I’ve got to go.’ Tom’s voice was clipped, all of the openness between them gone.
‘It isn’t true you know, I didn’t promise Zac anything.’ She tried to make eye contact with him, to make him see she was telling the truth, but he didn’t look at her.
‘It’s really none of my business. Zac’s a client, but he makes his own decisions. Just do me a favour and try to keep it out of the papers.’ He was totally business-like, treating her as though she might give some kiss and tell interview at any moment.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ The ruthless Tom, the one she hadn’t wanted to like until now, was firmly back in situ. ‘You’re right though; it really isn’t any of your business. I think Zac’s probably old enough to make his own decisions.’ She couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. Normally she went out of her way to avoid confrontation, but she was toughest when people weren’t being fair.