‘It was only a suggestion,’ he says mildly.
‘I feel like nobody takes my work seriously.’ I stare out of the window, watching the green give way to grey as we hit the motorway.
‘I take your job seriously.’ Ed takes his hand off the wheel to squeeze my knee. ‘If it’s important I’ll take you right there. I was only thinking of you.’
I can’t believe he’s being so reasonable. I wish he’d snap back and take the bait. But he doesn’t. This is why we never fight.
‘Make sure you don’t stay out too late. I think you need a rest.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘So what did you make of Bramley Hall? I have to say I was impressed. And Clare did say they had a couple of days in April.’
‘She did.’
‘The broker in me says it makes sense to view a couple of other places but Bramley Hall is definitely the benchmark. Don’t you think?’
‘I guess we could tell our guests to put their thermals on.’ I try for humour but even to my own ears it comes out begrudgingly.
‘I bet we’ll have a scorcher. Tell you what, I don’t have much on this afternoon. Why don’t I park up and come in and have a drink? A soft one, of course.’
‘I’m literally going to go in, go through the questions with Sydney and bugger off. I probably won’t be home much after you.’
‘Do you want me to wait?’
I know Ed means well but the way he’s fluttering around is bringing out the worst in me. I need to get away for a couple of hours. I take a deep breath. ‘Go home and put your feet up. You were at the conference all last weekend. You deserve some time to relax.’
I’m trying to put Ed at ease but my reference to rearranging the viewing makes him redouble his efforts. ‘Why don’t I pop by Sainsbugs and whip up something nice to eat when you get back? I could get some of those bath bubbles you like too.’
I close my eyes. I’ve never realized how much it annoys me when Ed says Sainsbugs instead of Sainsbury’s before. ‘I’m not that hungry.’
‘I’m sure I can whip up something to change your mind. Here we are.’ Ed reverses into a space outside Rob’s flat. ‘You sure you don’t want me to come in?’
‘Positive. I’ll see you at home.’
I peck him on the cheek and jump out of the car. I give myself a little pep talk as I walk up Rob’s uneven front path. I need to shake off this horrible funk. I can’t keep punishing Ed for not being Rich.
The concrete’s warped and I jump over the cracks, adhering to schoolgirl superstition. I’ve checked my questions are inside three times. There’s a lot riding on this. Sydney may be Rob’s girlfriend but she’s a megastar. It’s just what I need to take my mind off things. When Rob opens the door, I’ve got my most professional smile on.
‘Hi, Rob. Is Sydney ready to get started?’
Rob tugs his earlobe the way he used to if he was in trouble when we were younger. It’s so dark inside it looks like he’s holding a séance. This doesn’t bode well.
‘Er, about that—’
‘Tell me she’s here.’ I look past him to see if I can catch a glimpse of her. Despite the dim light, I notice he’s finally hung some pictures in the hall. He’s been here five years without bothering and the canvases – three small squares with huge blue splashes of colour – look too sophisticated to be his taste. It must be Sydney’s influence. That’s a good sign at least.
‘Tell me you guys haven’t broken up.’ I push my way in. There’s no sign of her in the kitchen at the end of the hall so I open the door to the tiny den where Rob spends most of his time. The curtains haven’t been drawn and it’s fairly dim but I can make out the coffee table is piled high with takeaway cartons. ‘Has she dumped you because you live like a pig?’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. She’s upstairs as it goes.’
‘Oh. Sorry. Should I go up?’
‘Better not.’ He looks shifty.
‘Is she coming down?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘She’s not ill, is she?’ I look at the takeaway containers on the coffee table. I thought Sydney was vegan but I can definitely see bacon hanging out of one of them. ‘The questions will only take five minutes.’
‘Look, why don’t we go to the pub down the road and I’ll go through the questions with you? She’s given me some pointers.’
‘I’d rather do it with her. She is alive, isn’t she? You haven’t killed her and dismembered her body.’
‘She’s alive. She’s just indisposed.’
Rob’s coyness collides with the pressure of having held it together all day and I snap.
‘We’re not in the 1930s, for God’s sake. Can you stop being so bloody cagey and tell me what’s going on?’
‘Jeez, don’t take your bad mood out on me.’ Rob looks affronted. ‘If you must know, she’s pregnant, all right?’
‘What?’
‘She’s vomming her guts out. Has been for days. If it’s not fried, she can’t eat it. And even when she does, it comes straight back up. I wanted to call and cancel this but she wouldn’t let me. She didn’t want to let you down.’
‘Shit, Rob.’ I stare at him.
‘I know.’ But Rob doesn’t look like he thinks it’s shit. His eyes are shining and the corners of his mouth are twitching.
‘So this is… good news?’
‘The best.’
‘Is she pleased?’
‘Through the roof. Studio’s furious though.’
‘I can imagine. What does this mean for—’
‘The film? She’s going to have to drop out. She can’t do any of the stunts if she’s pregnant.’
I’d meant what did it mean for the interview but I can’t see a way of asking that now without seeming selfish.
‘Do you want me to head off then?’ I try to temper my disappointment.
‘Don’t be stupid. You and I are going to the pub.’ Rob grabs his keys from the ledge above the radiator. ‘I’m celebrating.’
5.50 p.m.
‘Obviously what I’ve told you is top secret.’ Rob puts down his pint. The pub we’re in is deserted and we’re huddled in the corner by a rather paltry-looking log fire. But he keeps looking over his shoulder like he’s being hunted. ‘You can’t even tell Mr Insurance.’
‘I won’t.’ I’m reeling. I can’t believe my brother has impregnated a Hollywood star. It’s definitely taking my mind off my own problems.
‘It also means there are a tonne of questions you can’t ask her when you see her tomorrow.’
‘Can she even do the interview at all?’ I cross my fingers under the table.
‘She shouldn’t. Her press officer’s a bit of a pitbull and she pretty much nixed it. But Syd stood her ground.’
‘So she’ll do it?’ I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
‘She might be a bit green but she’ll make it. Ironically her morning sickness is better in the mornings. It’s the afternoons she can’t handle.’ Rich turns business-like. ‘Obviously you can’t mention the film or the pregnancy. But she’s given me a list of things she thought might make good talking points.’
He gets out his phone and starts scrolling through. ‘Here we are. Exercise regimes, getting old in Hollywood, the MeToo movement – she’s got a lot to say on that. Things like that. Keep it more general.’
‘Can I talk to her about you?’
‘Have you listened to a word I’ve said?’ Rob frowns.
‘I don’t mean blatantly. I mean, can I ask her about relationships and stuff?’
‘See what she’s happy with. She’ll shut you down if she’s not. Or Tasha will. The good news for you is that because she’s got to drop out of the film, yours will be the only mag she’s talking to. So that’s a win. But enough about that. Weren’t you looking round a venue today? Found a winner?’
My phone pings before I can answer. My eyes nearly fall out of my head when I see that the message is from Rich.
<
br /> I hope your venue hunting went well. You deserve the best. Thanks for the other evening, by the way xxx.
‘That loverboy?’
‘What? No. It’s just a message from Rich.’ I drop the phone back on the table. I can count the number of times Rich has texted me before on one hand. None of them have ever had any kisses. My mind is reeling. What did he mean, thank you for the other night? Curled up in the corner of my mind is the fledgling idea that maybe Rich doesn’t regret what happened. I can’t let it out. I try to focus on Rob. ‘Tell me about the baby. When’s it due?’
But Rob’s eyes are pinning mine. ‘What did ole Richie boy have to say?’
‘Nothing really.’
Rob grabs the phone and reads the message out loud in a breathy voice that makes me want to punch him. I scratch at his hand to get it back. For a moment we’re teenagers again.
‘He’s taking a pretty keen interest for a heterosexual man you’re not engaged to.’ Rob relinquishes the phone. ‘And what happened the other evening?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Be careful, Bec. I’d watch yourself.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘I think it’s a bit weird he’s texting you. Izzy’s your friend – if you can call her that. Not him.’
‘You forget I knew him before they even started going out.’
‘I remember. I was there. I was the one who mopped you up when they did start going out.’
‘Whatever. I wasn’t that upset.’
He looks at me.
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Look, I’m not saying this to be a dick—’
‘Could have fooled me.’
‘I’m saying it because I give a shit about you.’
‘How sweet.’
‘What does that message mean? Bit cryptic, wasn’t it?’
‘I was talking to him about the venue when I babysat the other night.’ I watch the embers of the log fire glowing. What does the message mean? ‘He’s being nice.’
‘He doesn’t sound nice; he sounds weird. And you know Izzy wouldn’t like it. Look, I know I haven’t always been the biggest fan of Ed.’
‘Understatement of the century. You called him the most boring man alive the first time you met him.’
‘He’s a good guy, Bec. If you love him you need to stick with him.’
‘I know.’ I shift in my seat. The bottom of the chair is digging into my thighs. ‘Can we talk about something else now? Like do you even know what to do with a baby?’
‘It’s your funeral. I’m going for a slash. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
I pick up my phone after Rob goes to the loo and stare at the message. Before I can help myself, I start typing a reply.
I know we said we were going to forget—
Before I can finish typing, another message pops up.
Doh, I didn’t say in the last message, this is Izzy. My phone’s bust so if you need to reach me call R. Thanks again for babysitting. We owe you one xxx
I drop the phone like it’s about to bite me. As if Rich would ever text me. He made his choice fifteen years ago. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. If I’d finished that text and sent it, I would have jeopardised everything I have. When Rob comes back from the loo, I’m grabbing my coat.
‘I’m going to head.’
‘You all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘It’s nothing.’ I shake my head, yanking the belt of my coat tight. ‘You were right, by the way. I need to get back to Ed.’
Nineteen
Monday 28 January
10.33 a.m.
I spot Sydney straight away. In a sea of pastel coordinated athleisure wear and perky ponytails, she’s wearing dark baggy jogging bottoms with her hair scraped back. Her face is pale but she still looks gorgeous. Pregnancy aside, I wish I looked as good at the gym, though this place is a far cry from the Fitness First I pay sixty quid a month to almost never use. The sign-in process felt like I was trying to break into a government building. The membership list is so exclusive even Sydney can sit in the bar space without her cap on. A few people look over but nobody approaches.
‘Hi, Sydney.’ My voice trembles. Somehow she seems more famous when Rob’s not with her. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Bec.’ She jumps to her feet and slides her arms around me. ‘Great to see you.’
‘You too.’ I disentangle myself slightly awkwardly. I point at the smoothie she’s nursing and put my bag on the chair next to her. ‘Can I get you another? I’m on expenses.’
‘I’m okay. You knock yourself out. And put it on my account. You can’t use cash in here.’
I cross the room, making sure to record every detail of the wraparound bar and ergonomically designed seating for Jules. Normally this kind of place intimidates me but I remind myself I’m here with Sydney Scott. I order a hot chocolate off a man with biceps the size of my thighs and try to ignore his look of distaste as he hands it over.
‘So, how are things?’ Sydney asks when I sit down.
‘Wait a minute, shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ I set my mobile on the table. ‘How are you?’
‘Forget about me for a second. You look a bit stressed.’
‘Do I?’ I shouldn’t. I don’t have anything to complain about. Ed and I have booked Bramley Hall. April 10 next year. Clare emailed the confirmation through this morning. The countdown is on. He spent last night mocking up ‘Save the Date’ cards on his laptop, to make sure they were perfect. Each change in font and colour made me feel more guilty.
‘I think I just had a bad commute. Let’s talk about you. Are you feeling any better? You look great.’ I fiddle with my mobile to make sure I’m not recording. ‘Don’t worry, this bit’s off the record.’
‘I’m good. Hanging in there, trying to take it easy and whatnot. I’m sorry I couldn’t make yesterday. I had no idea this would take so much out of me.’
‘Don’t worry. I really appreciate you doing the interview at all.’
‘Wouldn’t miss it.’ She flashes a smile, her teeth glinting. ‘So hit me.’
‘Okay, so I’ll start recording. But if I ask anything you don’t want to talk about, let me know and I’ll turn it off straightaway.’
‘Sure.’
‘So I guess my first question is; how are you enjoying London?’
‘I’d rather not answer that on tape, all things considered.’
I nearly knock the phone to the floor in my haste to turn it off. ‘Of course, I totally understand.’
‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m sorry, that was mean.’ Sydney shoots me a mischievous smile. ‘Ask me anything. I even got rid of Tasha so we could talk freely.’
‘Really?’ Fenella always complains that celebrities hide behind their press officers.
‘Sure. Between you, me and the neighbourhood cat, I think she’s pissed at me.’
‘Because you told her not to come?’
‘And, you know…’ Sydney flicks her eyes down to her stomach.
‘Right. Of course. Sorry. So, tell me how it feels to be in London.’
From that moment on, she doesn’t stop talking. She answers all of my questions, giving me half a dozen quotes I know would make great headlines. She even says some sweet things about Rob, though she doesn’t mention him by name. By the time we’ve finished, I know the interview is going to be a smash.
‘I think that about wraps it up.’ I flick the voice notes off and try to sound professional. ‘Unless there’s anything you want to add.’
‘I think you covered it.’ Sydney stretches her arms over her head. Her t-shirt rides up. Underneath, her stomach’s smooth and taut. No sign of a bump yet. She catches me looking.
‘It’s been kind of fast, hasn’t it?’
‘A bit. Are you okay with all of it?’ I don’t want to offend her. ‘I mean it must have been a bit of a – surprise?’
‘Total.’ She laughs. ‘I’m good though. I always throw m
yself into things head on. I keep meaning to look before I leap, but I guess I’m too impetuous.’
‘I admire that. I can’t think of the last time I did something spontaneous.’ Apart from kissing my best friend’s husband. I push down the sick feeling that rises. I can’t let myself think about Rich.
‘Yeah, Robbie said you’ve always been the one who played it safe.’
She catches my expression.
‘He didn’t mean anything bad. I mean it obviously works for you. Here you are, about to marry the man of your dreams and ride off into the sunset. Robbie said you guys booked a venue. You must be super excited?’
‘I am. Did Rob say anything else?’
‘Honestly, he didn’t. But he’s so proud of you. He’s always talking about how smart you are.’
‘Really?’
‘Why do you think I’m doing this interview?’ Sydney twists her mouth into a sideways grin. ‘Tasha was adamant that I not do any press in case it leaks. She wants to control the narrative. But Robbie said it was important. And we know we can trust you.’
‘Thanks.’ I try to process the idea of Rob being proud of me. Mum used to say things like that all the time. But Rob and I don’t share those kinds of feelings.
‘By the way, Tasha needs you to email her the digital recording of the interview and send the write-up and what not over when it’s done.’
‘No problem.’ I have no idea how to send over a digital recording but I’m sure someone in production will. If all else fails, I’ll ask Ed. He’s good at tech.
‘And obviously you won’t mention the—’
‘Baby.’
‘Film.’ Sydney stiffens as the biceps guy approaches our table.
‘Can I get you ladies anything else?’
‘We’re fine.’ I wait until he goes away. ‘I’m so sorry. Do you think he heard?’
‘It’s fine. Everyone here signs a non-disclosure agreement. It’s a safe space. You could confess your deepest darkest secrets in here and nobody would even bat an eyelid.’ She winks. ‘It’s where all the bodies are buried.’
I busy myself with my bag so she can’t see my face.
11.55 a.m.
I’m on the train on the way back to the office when my phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Ed’s office.
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