Always With Love (11 page)

‘See, it’s totally worth dating me, just for this,’ Billy laughs, handing me my huge frosty treat – a cone with at least two flavours of ice cream, drizzled with chocolate sauce.

‘You all right?’ he asks, glancing at his mum before looking back at me.

‘Of course!’ I say with gusto and a little shrug, as though questioning why we wouldn’t be. ‘Now, talk me through this,’ I add, licking the brown top while making a sound of delight as its thick warmth hits my mouth. It really is sweet and delicious, so there’s no acting required there.

‘You’ve got rocky road and cookies ’n’ cream, topped with hot milk-chocolate fudge,’ he grins, sucking on his own enormous treat which looks just as tasty as mine.

‘This is so good!’ I exclaim, the job of tackling my ice cream stilling the more pressing thoughts that were on my mind mere seconds before.

The park is suddenly plunged into darkness and the gathered crowds around us whoop in delight, letting us know that the fireworks are about to start. Orchestral music booms from nearby speakers as the castle starts twinkling beautifully. My body tingles when the display bangs into action, as some of the most loved Disney characters are projected on to the front of the castle while nostalgic songs from my childhood are played out. Memories of being with Mum and Dad on the sofa at home watching those old movies fill my heart and I feel choked with emotion as I think how wonderful it would have been to come here with them all those years ago. We would have loved it …

When ‘Let it Go’ from
Frozen
starts playing I burst out laughing as adorable little Charlotte, my soon-to-be step-sister, pops into my head. I know she’d be in her absolute element if she were here, singing along at the top of her lungs.

It’s a sensory overload – the music, the fireworks exploding in the air, the display of pretty lights on the majestic castle – all with the man I love by my side. I lean into Billy and put some of my weight against his chest.

‘I love you,’ I whisper, keeping my eyes fixed on the captivating display.

‘And I love you, baby,’ he replies, kissing me on the side of the head. ‘For always.’

‘Always …’ I grin, feeling warm, gooey and whole.

‘We’re going to be fine,’ he says softly, squeezing me tightly across my chest.

I blink back the emotion those few words stir within me, realizing that they aren’t said just to comfort me, but also to reassure him.

‘Where’s
Billy?’ asks Mrs Sleep as soon as she walks through the door of the shop wheeling her shopping trolley behind her. In my absence she’s clearly treated herself to a little pampering, as her short grey hair has had a fresh rinse and perm and now looks immaculate.

She looks around the place with wild disappointment and a touch of mild panic.

It’s been ten days since The Big Decision and now I’m back in Rosefont Hill and my familiar shop. I spent the rest of my stay having a wonderful time in Los Angeles with Billy, and getting to know his family a bit more. Julie remained loving and kind for the rest of the trip, although I’m still undecided as to what to make of the whole thing. And then I flew home, alone.

The flight went as expected – I had a little cry, even had a glass of bubbly, then read a book to try and stop my brain from thinking about how I was going to break the news of Billy’s slight change of heart about living in the village to everyone back home. To be honest, Mum was the only person I was really concerned about telling. I didn’t want her worrying over me worrying (ironic), which is why I decided to say nothing until I stepped back through Arrivals as a solo traveller.

‘You OK, love?’ was obviously her first question, but I think that’s because I must have looked a bit forlorn as I
was trying to work out what to say. She was more confused over the fact I hadn’t told her sooner, as she completely understood that Billy had to make the most of the fabulous opportunity offered. I think her unfaltering attitude towards the whole thing made me see it in a slightly different light. There’s no denying the craziness of LA turned it into a bigger and scarier thing than it should have been – he’s an actor, he’s had some work come in. It’s that simple. In theory. I think it was just the way it all happened that marred how I dealt with it.

As I only got home last night, the news of Billy temporarily staying Stateside hasn’t reached the rest of the village yet. That’s why a Billy-less shop is a flabbergasting sight for my elderly friend who’s always had a soft spot for my dreamboat of a partner.

‘He’s staying out there a little longer,’ I say, flashing her a smile as I make up a pot of English breakfast tea for her.

‘But, why?’ she asks, her wrinkled hand gripping on to the counter. She usually takes a seat straight away and we head out to serve her at her table, but clearly Billy’s absence is making an impact already. I almost feel bad having to break the news to her. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘Of course it is,’ I say, finding it sweet that she cares so much. ‘He met this amazing director over there who wants Billy to be in his next film, that’s all.’

‘But he’s meant to be having time off,’ she sighs, looking ever so worried.

‘He’ll be back next week.’

‘Oh, that’s good,’ she says with relief, with one of her signature girlish giggles.

‘But then gone for a few months from February,’ I grimace.

‘What?’ she gasps, the news causing her to take a few steps backwards, as though I’ve said something horrific or scandalous. ‘But how will we cope?’

‘Like we did before he arrived,’ I laugh, putting the pot and a china cup and saucer on her tray. ‘Anything else to go with that? I’ve made a pecan toffee cake.’

‘Oh go on then,’ she says sadly, clearly hoping a slice will help her get over the distressing news.

I’m tempted to sit down and scoff the whole thing with her. Billy would be amused to hear that we’ve all turned to comfort eating in his absence.

Once Mrs Sleep has had her fill and left, most people arrive that morning seeming to already know I’ll be behind the counter on my own; clearly my old friend has shared the news on her way back down the hill. There’s no voiced shock or disappointment as they enter, although perhaps a few glum faces at discovering the rumours are true. And there I was thinking they were all going to have missed
me
. Damn Billy and his charming ways.

I’ve just placed a granary ham and mustard sandwich in front of Miss Peggy Brown when my mum bursts through the door, out of breath and not at all her usual composed self. Her hazel eyes are full of concern and her face is crinkled up with worry.

‘You OK?’ I ask, smiling politely at Miss Brown before heading over to her. Whatever it is, I don’t want my dear old friend overhearing. That’s how rumours are spread in a little village like this, although I’m sure she’ll be watching closely and making up her own facts anyway.
I used to really fret about people in the village talking about me, but now I think I’ve just learnt to accept that it’s part of the joys of living in such a close-knit community. I still try, wherever possible, to give them nothing to talk about, though.

‘You’ve obviously not seen the papers or been online today,’ Mum says, fretfully rubbing her hands together.

‘Not yet. I’ve been manic,’ I frown, although guessing whatever it is that has made her like this is bound to have something to do with my relationship with a certain someone whose every move outside of Rosefont Hill appears to be tabloid fodder. ‘Billy?’

She nods, her lips apprehensively pursing together.

‘What does it say?’ I ask, going to get my mobile phone from my bag where I left it when I arrived this morning. I haven’t had a chance to dig it out since, and usually people phone me on the shop’s landline if they know I’m here anyway. Well, when I say people, I mean Mum and Billy.

Looking at my phone I see my lockscreen is filled with hundreds of Twitter and Instagram notifications from names I don’t recognize, although dozens of them are a play on Billy’s name or that of his fictional character Sid Quest with usernames like @BuskinForever135, @Buskinshalogirl and @QuestforBilly.

Ignoring them for now, I unlock my phone and go straight to one of the gossip sites I abhor and am instantly greeted with pictures of me walking through LAX airport on my own looking forlorn and miserable, while Billy is pictured elsewhere looking equally glum. They were probably taken on his way back to his car having dropped me off for my flight. I let out a sigh when I see
the headline and brace myself as I start to read the article that follows.

Fans of Billy Buskin will be relieved to learn that it appears the former lothario is back on the market after hitting rocky times with girlfriend Sophie May.

The two had supposedly flown over to Los Angeles at the end of the year to tell his parents Clive and Julie about their plans to get married, however it seems those discussions didn’t go according to plan. Our exclusive photos show a somber Sophie flying home alone while Billy has remained behind with his British-born family, including twins Hayley and Jenny Buskin who are regulars on the LA party scene.

Of course, this wouldn’t be the first reported split between the rocky pair, as they parted ways earlier last year when Billy was linked to his former
Halo
co-star Heidi Black – a reunion he has since venomously denied despite being caught in a steamy clinch with the well-known beauty. After several months apart, and Billy vowing to curb his acting career, Sophie and Billy reunited and seemed perfectly happy.

However, the on/off duo have become extremely private about their relationship in recent months. Something which doesn’t match with Billy’s overtly gushy outpouring of love for Sophie when he won his BAFTA at the start of last year, or how open and honest he appeared on Bernard Sharland’s chat show, hoping to rekindle their relationship.

Could it be that his old stomping ground has lured Billy back into the temptations of Hollywood? Has Sophie dug her heels in and fought against moving across the pond? Or perhaps the
two have realized how difficult life is when one of you craves the spotlight and the other seeks the shadows.

We’ve reached out to representatives but no comment has been made at this time. However, while we wait to find out more, here’s a recap of Billy’s relationships over the years, and how it looked like Sophie May was set to change his bad boy reputation for good …

Having read enough I look up and gawp at Mum.

‘I can’t believe they’re allowed to write this rubbish,’ I hiss, shaking my head, yet unable to stop myself from looking down at my phone again, as though part of me is hoping the article won’t be there second time round.

‘Anything you can do to let people know the truth?’

‘Not without adding fuel to the fire,’ I sigh. ‘I don’t think so, anyway.’

‘And you didn’t know your photo was being taken?’ Mum asks.

‘Does it look like it?’ I reply. Although even if I had, I doubt my facial expression would have been any different. It’s not as if I’ve suddenly started playing up to the cameras and smiling at them after all this time. They’re a part of dating Billy that I truly do not welcome – nothing but intrusive and invasive. It’s horrible thinking you could be being watched and documented like this at any time without having the foggiest idea. It shouldn’t be allowed. Surely I should be given the choice to opt out of having my photograph taken, and as for writing this article about me, there must be more gripping and important world news out there for them to report on? ‘I don’t know who I blame more – the paparazzi at the end of the lens or the
journalist sat at her desk fabricating the whole thing,’ I say to Mum, feeling myself getting more and more riled up at the indecency. It’s one thing to have people you know gossiping about you, but something entirely different to have people who don’t know you at all spreading lies.

‘So everything
is
OK with you and Billy, then?’ Mum asks, apparently needing clarification and clearly not listening to me when I’ve said not to believe everything she reads.

‘Yes, Mum,’ I sigh, sneaking a quick glance at Miss Brown who’s trying to look as though she’s not listening in to our every word. I’m sure I caught her turning her hearing aid up.

‘For a second I thought you might’ve … oh I don’t know,’ she tuts, placing her hands over her eyes. ‘I know how you like to protect me from this sort of thing.’

‘I would’ve told you, Mum. You saw me last time,’ I say, rolling my eyes as I recall the mountain of tissues I buried myself under in my heartbreak. ‘There’s no way I could’ve kept something like that from you.’

‘True, you have been quite composed,’ she laughs, a sound that seems a trifle forced and more for my benefit.

My phone starts flashing in my hand as Billy’s face pops on to the screen. It’s first thing in the morning there, so I’m guessing he’s woken up to the news, or maybe one of the twins has been in and told him before their early morning workout.

‘Billy’s calling,’ I say to Mum, as an unexpected wave of nerves passes through me.

‘Well, you go out back and talk. I can look after the shop for a bit. It’s quiet down at the library anyway,’ she
says, reaching for an apron, looping it over her head and tying it behind her back.

‘You sure?’

She nods and turns away from me before picking up a cloth and setting about wiping imaginary dirt from the kitchen counter.

I walk past the well-used oven, grab my coat and duck into the tiny courtyard out back. It’s a spot that I hardly ever venture into but feel I need some privacy away from the shop for this chat.

‘Hey,’ I say softly.

‘I thought you weren’t going to pick up,’ Billy says, sounding relieved to hear my voice.

‘Sorry. Mum’s here,’ I explain. ‘Just thought I’d find somewhere to chat out of earshot of Miss Brown.’

‘You seen?’

‘Yeah …’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he starts.

‘It’s not your fault,’ I mutter, rubbing my hand against my forehead in frustration. I’m feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing but I know that this is only the start of things to come now that Billy is being thrust back into the public eye.

‘I know it’s not, but it’s not nice to be written about. You wouldn’t have to put up with rubbish like that if it weren’t for me,’ he says, clearly feeling guilty.

‘I’m not going to lie, it’s pretty tough knowing everyone’s now going to think there are problems between us,’ I huff, hating the part of me that refuses to appease his worry, even though I know it’s not his doing.

‘It’ll be someone else they’re writing about tomorrow,’
he says, as though knowing there’s a constant stream of fabricated nonsense makes it any easier to handle. It doesn’t. Not really. This is relevant to us. To me. I don’t care who else they spend the rest of their time writing about.

‘People will still think things are bad with us,’ I frown.

‘Sophie, you know there’s nothing I can do,’ he huffs.

I can tell he’s annoyed, but I’m not sure whether it’s at the article and the situation or at my reaction to it. I’m sure past girlfriends would have revelled in having their pictures out there for all to see.

‘It’s part of who I am. You’ve known that from the start,’ he continues sadly. ‘It’s not like it’s something new. I can’t change it.’

His words still me. It’s true. I knew who he was before we started dating. I’d also Googled him, so knew he’d previously been written about a lot so that shouldn’t have come as a shock. I just had no idea I would be pulled into that side of his world and that our relationship would be hauled out as public property for people to talk and write about. But I’m also left feeling frozen because his words echo an argument we had last year when I was uncomfortable about him having to get physical with a co-star. The comparison to that dark time saddens me.

‘Sorry,’ I find myself mumbling, hating it when we argue. It’s horrible having an air of hostility between him and me. It’s not who we are, it’s not us. Not when we were cocooned in our safe little haven of Rosefont Hill, anyway.

‘No, baby …’ he exhales faintly. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s just hard being so far away from you and not being
able to help you deal with this stuff. I forget how daunting it all is.’

‘Actually, it’s somehow a bit easier to read it when it’s not true. It was harder when they were sharing difficult facts about my life as though they were meaningless,’ I say with some resolve, trying to laugh at the situation but failing.

‘God, yes. This is nothing compared to that,’ he says, recalling the day photos of my dad and I were plastered across various tabloid front covers.