Always With Love (3 page)

‘Sophie, James. James, Sophie,’ Billy gestures between the two of us, shaking James’s hand before hopping into the car.

‘Ma’am,’ he growls kindly, nodding his head.

‘Hi,’ I say, relieved to meet the first person here who isn’t going to require a physical greeting to accompany the verbal one we’ve exchanged.

‘Sir, allow me,’ James offers, leaving us in the car to help Clive with our luggage. I feel guilty leaving them to it – especially when all I keep thinking about is how hot James must be in his suit in the sunshine. Although having said that, I spend my days fully clothed in front of a piping hot oven while I bake cakes. Working in unbearable heat and keeping a smile on your face is something I know all about.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ sings Julie from behind us once we’re all in the car and it’s silently started rolling off, away from LAX airport and the prying paps.
Unsurprisingly, a few of them hop on to waiting motorbikes and ride alongside us, but as the glass is totally blacked out it’s pretty pointless of them. They’re probably hoping we’re heading somewhere other than Billy’s house, which I know is thankfully set back behind gates. Having said that, from what I know of these vultures they’ll probably camp outside for the duration of our stay and see what they can sneakily grab through the bushes or as we’re coming and going. I don’t know how Billy stands it, but he always does so without much of a grumble, and thankfully we’ve managed to stay fairly secluded back at home and don’t feel too watched all the time.

‘You OK?’ I whisper, running my fingers up his bare forearm, gutted that Jay’s absence has put a dampener on our arrival.

He nods and grips my hand before taking it to his lips and kissing the back of it. ‘You?’

‘Knackered,’ I say, smiling at the gesture.

‘All that reading,’ he grins, looking up at me.

‘You have to tell me some good books to read!’ Lauren says enthusiastically, leaning into my side and gently nudging me. ‘I’ve been working my way through the
Pretty Little Liars
set but I’m almost at the end of it.’

I love her a little more in that second. Seeing as Billy isn’t a reader (he once made himself sit and read all of my favourite classics but has since returned to his former status as a non-reader), I’ve never really had someone my own age to talk books with.

‘Sophie reads proper books, Lozza,’ says Billy, rolling his eyes.

‘I read proper books too!’ she retorts.

‘They’re a bunch of crap.’

‘I bet they’re not,’ I say, not sure what really qualifies as a ‘proper’ book – reading is reading after all.

‘They’re not,’ she says, her eyes widening. ‘And what would you know? You’ve not read them.’

‘They’re based on an MTV show,’ he shrugs.

‘No they’re not!’ squeals Lauren. ‘The books were written first and then made into a series by ABC. But even then, it’s only loosely based on them, anyway. Get it right.’

‘OK you two, cut it out,’ sighs Julie.

‘Tell
her
,’ he moans.

‘Tell
him
,’ she whines.

‘Listen to you both,’ I find myself cutting in. ‘We’ve only been here for half an hour and already you’ve regressed into the stereotypical annoying older brother role.’

Billy’s mouth drops in surprise at my words.

‘You don’t have any brothers or sisters, do you?’ asks Lauren, instantly calming down, as though a switch has been flicked, and looking amused at my observation.

‘No.’

‘This is standard behaviour,’ she shrugs. ‘He winds me up and then I retaliate. Wait until the twins get involved later. There’s never a dull moment with us kids around.’

‘A constant battle of who can wind the other one up the most,’ nods Billy in agreement, the two forgetting their spat as they explain their interesting family dynamic while cheekily grinning at each other.

‘You must love each other really,’ I say, looking at the pair of them as though they’re slightly bonkers and wondering why they can’t just be nice.

‘Of course they do. Be lost without one another,’ says Julie for them, calling over from the seat behind us.

‘Oh totally,’ nods Billy, looking across me to Lauren and pulling a silly face. ‘She’s just so annoying.’

‘Ditto,’ she replies, rolling her eyes before leaning back and looking out the window. ‘God, it’s good to have you back!’ she mutters.

I lean my head on Billy’s shoulder and squeeze my arm around his, drawing it into my body, so thrilled to be here with him in the comfort of his family who clearly love him as much as I do – even if they have an interesting way of showing it.

We
seem to be driving for ages. Not that I mind, as it’s lovely to look out and get a grasp on Los Angeles and where Billy’s family lives. It’s huge, just like the car we’re sitting in, and seems to just carry on for miles without any clear definition of which neighbourhood we’re in. It all seamlessly merges, although some areas are clearly nicer than others. As I’d hoped, there are palm trees everywhere – even on the side of the motorway (sorry, freeway). LA appears to be mostly flat, although peeping up from the horizon in almost every direction are huge mountains.

‘The Hollywood sign!’ I gasp when I catch a glimpse of the iconic landmark sitting up high in the Hollywood hills.

‘Yep,’ says Billy, grinning at me and pulling me in for a kiss.

‘Bizarre to think of that as your normal,’ I say out loud to the rest of the car once he’s released me. It might be old-fashioned, but I can’t help but feel weird about having a PDA in front of Billy’s parents. I know we’re both adults and free to do as we please, but as this is the first time he has taken me home to meet his parents, I feel a rigidness overcome me and my cheeks flush, making me squirm like an awkward teenager. Hugs are fine, but kissing? Eek!

Billy clearly notices my apprehension as he has a little
chuckle to himself and softly places a hand on top of mine, patting it gently.

‘Yeah … you know what,’ Lauren replies to my earlier comment, thoughtfully staring out of the window. ‘I hardly even notice it’s there any more.’

‘Same here,’ says Clive in the back, who’s stayed silent during the rest of the journey while everyone else has been nattering away. I have a feeling that (besides Billy), the women lead the majority of conversations in this family and that the guys just fill in the gaps or dive in whenever they can. ‘You know what it’s like, you see something every day and it’s difficult not to take it for granted.’

‘Forget its beauty,’ agrees Julie with a sigh.

‘That’s sad,’ I say.

‘I still feel the magic, though,’ Julie adds quickly, as though not wanting us to think she’s bored of being over there. ‘It’s brilliant out here. Waking up every day with the sun shining and blue skies above – hard not to get excited about that.’

‘Don’t miss the rain at all,’ mutters Lauren, subconsciously pulling on her halter-neck bikini strap.

‘I’m telling you, Sophie. Within a day or two you’ll be planning on moving out here yourself,’ says Julie, reaching over the seat and touching my shoulder.

I laugh and give a little shift in my seat.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that one, Mum,’ smiles Billy, winking at me when I look up at him. ‘You’ve never experienced the magic of Rosefont Hill.’

‘Yes. Well …’ Julie replies shortly, removing her hand. ‘It’s great that you’ve decided to have your work hiatus in such a magical setting.’

‘Just like you then, Mum,’ retorts Lauren.

A silence I can’t decipher falls over all of us. Doing my best not to overanalyse the moment, I continue to look out the front window. Turning right on to a road called Vermont Avenue we’re greeted with what looks more like a high street, with a post office, independent coffee shop (not just another Starbucks – of which I’ve spotted loads since landing) and even a little book shop which I can’t help but twist my head to get a better view of.

‘Trust you to sniff that out,’ Billy whispers in my ear, making me smile.

Two minutes later the car starts travelling uphill along a winding road. We go higher and higher, past a row of houses with their cars parked outside, and continue to climb. When James slows the car down and waits for some electric gates to open, I’m surprised at the modest appearance of the white-painted home that I can see in the distance, up another steep incline. Not that I thought Billy would be living in some blinged-up mansion, but it’s a little smaller than I’d expected. In fact, now that I think of it, none of the houses on the way up here screamed out in the overly flashy manner that I’ve come to imagine when thinking of LA, but I guess that’s because we’re not over in Beverly Hills, the residential Mecca for Hollywood’s rich and famous.

Billy grins at me excitedly. ‘What do you think?’ he asks, once we’ve pulled up outside and have started getting out of the car.

‘It looks lovely.’

‘Wait until you see inside,’ grins Lauren, walking past us and opening the huge wooden front door and heading inside.

‘I’ll just grab my suitcase,’ I start to say, turning to the boot of the car before noticing that James has already removed them and is currently taking them through the garage.

‘After you,’ Billy smiles, holding his arm out towards the house and waving me inside.

Walking in, I realize I was completely wrong about the house being small and discreet. It’s actually a flaming TARDIS! Seriously, it’s huge. I suddenly feel like Kate Winslet in
The Holiday
when she arrives at Cameron Diaz’s mammoth home and can’t quite believe her luck, a comparison that makes me feel extremely giddy.

Although Billy’s home might appear to be single storey from the front, you actually walk down a swooping staircase into the main section of the building and the space opens up dramatically into a huge living area which leads to further rooms. The size of this room alone is not far off that of the entire floorplan of the childhood home that I still live in with Mum and Billy, and that’s no exaggeration. But, just like Billy’s amazing flat in Hyde Park, it’s been decorated in a way that makes it homely and inviting – just with an extra bit of something to make your jaw drop as soon as you walk in.

Exposed brick lines the room, adorned with photographs of the family throughout the years (almost the exact same collection that I’ve seen in Billy’s flat but with additions from newer adventures). Chunky and earthy wooden beams run beneath my feet, but it’s not any sort of wooden flooring (and certainly nothing like the kind Mum and I bought from our local DIY store a few years back to lay in the kitchen). No, this actually looks like it’s come
directly from a forest – it’s perfectly rugged with every ridge and knot visible, giving it far more depth and beauty. Plush gold and cream sofas gather in a group around a charcoal black-and-biscuit-coloured tapestry rug, on top of which is a coffee table, made of glass and sculptured fanned wood (it looks more like a piece of art than a safe place to rest a mug of tea). Nevertheless, this luxurious area calls to be sat in, especially as it faces out to the main feature of the room – a never-ending black-framed window that stretches along an entire wall, giving the most amazing view of the city spread out in the distance.

Walking towards it to get a closer look, I spot the swimming pool below and spy Lauren already stripped down to her white bikini sitting on a nearby sun lounger, talking animatedly on her phone. She really was itching to get back out there as soon as she could.

‘What do you think?’ asks Billy from behind me.

‘Wow,’ I breathe, looking back up to the impressive skyline. ‘Just wow.’

‘Indeed,’ laughs Julie, walking past us and heading off into one of the adjoining rooms, which I’m guessing is where everyone congregates if they’re not sprawled out next to the pool.

‘I can see exactly why your family like it here,’ I admit.

‘If I’m honest I forgot how incredible it all is,’ he laughs, putting his arm around my waist as he stands beside me and looks out in awe.

‘Have you missed it?’ I ask, feeling a lump forming in my throat as I wait for his answer, not wanting to hear that he has and hoping he’s not suddenly found himself regretting falling into the modest life he has with me.

‘Ask me that again at the end of our stay …’ he says, looking down and winking at me, kissing the top of my head.

I close my eyes and take comfort from his warmth. We’re a team, that’s something I never find myself doubting any more.

‘Come see my room.’

I can’t help but laugh.

‘What?’

‘We might live together but hearing you say that in your parents’ home suddenly makes me feel like a naughty teenager doing something wrong.’

‘Oh really?’ he asks, raising his eyebrows at me as a cheeky sparkle lights up the brown of his eyes. ‘Is this going to be a problem?’

‘No!’ I giggle.

‘Good, because it’s my house. I own it,’ he growls playfully, tugging on my arm and pulling me through the lounge towards the hallway, which has another sweeping staircase leading down towards the bedrooms. Unfortunately the doors are all shut, meaning I can’t have a snoop, but the hallway is grand enough. Textured cream wallpaper with flecks of gold covers the walls and half a dozen pieces of artwork are hanging proudly. Down here, it’s all London themed. London buses, red telephone boxes, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, The London Eye – even the British flag, all painted in vibrant, bold colours to show them off in their optimum glory.

‘God, I’ve heard about these pieces,’ Billy sighs, stopping to look at the painting of the London bus. The bus itself is in focus, but it’s been painted as though it’s in motion with
the lights of Piccadilly Circus and the crowds of people on the streets blurred and streaked around its sharp structure. ‘Mum had an art dealer come to the house. She phoned me up delirious about this collection, saying it made her feel like she had a part of our old home here in LA.’

‘That’s sweet.’

‘Not really,’ he scoffs with a little eye roll. ‘We’ve never lived in London as a family, I’ve never been on a red bus or made a call in a red telephone box.’

‘You’ve not lived!’ I exclaim, thinking of the trips me, Mum and Dad used to make when I was a child into Trafalgar Square, and the fact that there’s still a red telephone box in Rosefont Hill that I’d continued to use until I finally got my first mobile phone a couple of years ago.

‘That’s something coming from Sophie May,’ Billy laughs at me, giving my elbow a gentle nudge with his.

‘Exactly!’

‘Come on,’ Billy says, moving away from the offending paintings and towards the end of the hallway. He opens the last door and takes a deep, satisfied breath as he walks inside with a smile spreading across his face, clearly happy with the room he’s finally reunited with.

And I’m not surprised.

Billy’s room is ridiculous. Actually, it’s not a room, it’s basically a flat minus a kitchen with two beaten-up tanned leather sofas creating a lounge area in front of a television, a walk-in wardrobe where his clothes have all been divided into different categories using fancy lighting, an en-suite bathroom that’s triple the size of our single family one at home (complete with two sinks, a hot tub and multi-headed shower), and the biggest four-poster bed I’ve ever seen.
Seriously, it’s huge! I’m surprised not to see more of Billy’s personality stamped into the décor, but I guess the majority of his stuff would have been moved to his London flat. Instead, the minimalist cream, gold and black theme from the rest of the house continues throughout.

Although the room doesn’t need much to be viewed as incredible, the best bit is the two entire walls that mirror the main feature in the lounge upstairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows allow us to get another glimpse of the astounding city view, as well as some glorious greenery to one side, which I’m guessing is Griffith Park as we saw lots of signs for it as we were driven up here.

‘Seriously?’ I ask, looking around in awe and comparing it to my own tiny, pink bedroom. ‘Are you joking?’

‘Epic, right?’

‘Well, I’m glad you’re not trying to play it down.’

‘It is just a house, though,’ he says.

‘A flipping amazing house.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you have a driver,’ I remind him with a smile, James popping into my head.

‘James has been with us since my
Halo
days,’ he shrugs. ‘Dee has only been with us since we moved in here though.’

‘Dee?’

‘His wife.’

‘Of course, the housekeeper,’ I say, remembering that they live in a modern version of
Downton Abbey
. I puff out my cheeks and exhale loudly. ‘This is another world.’

‘You know, it’s not. Don’t think of it in any other terms than my family and our home. It’s no different to the bricks and mortar that make up your house.’

‘Slightly more exuberant maybe … fancier materials.’

‘Maybe,’ he smiles, looking bashful, before throwing himself on to his bed and kicking off his shoes.

‘But don’t you feel weird about having strangers in your home?’ I ask, scrambling next to him and sighing as my head melts into the insanely soft feather pillows beneath me. It’s as though I’ve literally climbed on to a cloud.

‘They’re actually like family,’ Billy states. ‘They even come over for Christmas dinner.’

‘Oh … really?’ I ask, surprised at how personal it sounds. ‘I guess it’s just a set up I’m not used to.’

‘It might seem odd to you, but it works,’ he says, pulling himself up on one elbow and leaning next to me, his fingertips gently stroking the bare skin on my forearm. ‘It means my mum is chilled out over here and not spending her days cleaning up after the lot of us when she could be out enjoying herself in the sunshine. Life’s too short for that and she did enough of it back in Surrey. It’s my way of giving back after they all changed their lives for me.’

‘Fair point,’ I say, smiling up at him. ‘It’s great how everyone has really embraced living here. They all look so happy.’

‘Exactly – and nothing matters more in life than making those we love as happy as possible,’ he says, his head lowering, allowing him to place his lips on mine, his kiss gently pulling me closer into him.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ I sigh. ‘It’s a shame about Jay.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he says, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I’m surprised he’s not here, but it’s no big deal.’

‘You sure?’ I ask, wanting Billy to know he can open up.

‘Absolutely. This is going to be a fun trip,’ he whispers.

‘It is!’ I agree as my tummy gives a little unexpected somersault.

‘Good. Glad you think so, too,’ he says, shifting slightly away and looking directly into my eyes. ‘Promise to just enjoy it for what it is? Don’t go throwing weird meanings on to things or overthinking anything.’