Bound by Ivy (22 page)

68

For some reason, the weather goes crazy warm the night before the show finishes, and Leo wants me to check out the roof garden at his favourite Mexican restaurant.

‘You’ll love it, Sophia,’ he tells me. ‘The garden
has straw donkeys and red chilli fairy lights all over the place. And the best view of the London sunset ever. Oh, and did I mention it serves awesome margaritas?’

‘Several times,’ I say.

‘Come on. You must have run out of excuses by now. Can’t a friend take another friend out to eat?’

‘After what happened … that kiss …
I don’t want to be disrespectful to Marc,’ I say.

‘Marc and I had a good talk when you were ill. I told him what an idiot I was. And how much I value your friendship. And I think … maybe he’ll never be totally cool with me, but he doesn’t want you to lose a good friend, either. He can tell that I care about you. And he doesn’t want that gone from your life.’

‘He said that?’

‘Words to that effect. Anyway, I think when he saw how well I was getting on with your friend Jen, he stopped being worried about me moving in on his territory.’

‘Jen said the two of you talked.’

‘She did?’ Leo
smiles. ‘I
really
like her. I might even stay in London a little longer, if she agrees to go out with me. She’s worth putting up with bad English food for. Speaking of food … are you coming to dinner or not?’

‘You really think Marc is okay with us being friends?’

‘Yes. I really do. I mean, he said so.’

‘Okay.
I guess I have run out of excuses. And actually, it’ll be good to have a distraction today. Time is moving SO slowly. I just can’t wait for it to be tomorrow. One more show to do, and then I get to see Marc.’

*****

Within half an hour, I find myself on a higgledy piggledy roof terrace of Mexican hats and cactus plants, drinking a frozen margarita and watching the sunset with Leo Falkirk.

It would be stupid not to admit how good looking Leo is. I mean, every woman in the restaurant is following him with his eyes
.

‘Great marga
ritas, huh?’ says Leo, taking a swig from a bubbly tumbler of green slush.

‘Really good,’ I agree, taking a sip of my own.

‘Am I helping you pass the time?’

‘God, I’m terrible aren’t I?’ I say. ‘How do you put up with me?’

‘Well. The fact you’re super pretty helps.’

I blush. ‘Oh. I’m sure you
’ve known plenty of girls prettier than me.’

‘Nope. Y
ou’re pretty inside and out. You don’t get many girls like that around. Marc’s a lucky guy.’

‘I’ve been so mopey
these last few months. I’m really sorry.’

‘Y
ou haven’t been so bad,’ says Leo, accepting a bowl of handmade nachos from a waitress. ‘But promise me after this show, you’ll stay in touch. Even if it’s only so I can see that cute friend of yours.’

‘Why wouldn’t I
stay in touch?’

Leo grins.
‘Us actors go with the tides. You make the best, most amazing friendships, and then poof! The film wraps up, the show finishes, and you drift apart.’

‘I don’t want that to ha
ppen to us,’ I say. ‘And it won’t. You’re a good friend.’

Leo puts his large elbow on the table and waggles his little finger. ‘Okay. Pink
ie promise. We’ll stay in touch.’

I laugh and hold out my little finger to
o, linking it with Leo’s. ‘Pinkie promise.’

69

That night after the last-but-one show, I don’t fall asleep until 5am. Thoughts of Marc are running so quickly through my mind that it’s impossible to shut down. But finally,
finally
, morning comes. And after three long months of waiting, the day arrives when I can see Marc again.

When I go downstairs, I hear Jen in the garden.

I
head outside to find her at our little umbrella table, peeling open a red Baby Belle cheese for Sammy.

‘Morning Sop
h,’ she says. ‘So. Last day, huh?’

‘Fourteen more hours
,’ I say, taking a seat and watching Sammy playing on the grass. It’s a warm spring day and the daffodils are still filling the beds with sunshine yellow petals. ‘And I’m going to feel every second of them today.’

Jen smiles
. ‘You put Romeo and Juliet to shame. How are you and Marc going to meet up tonight? Is he going to blast fireworks over the Thames at the stroke of midnight?’

I laugh. ‘I don’t know.
We’re not allowed to speak, remember? But I’m hoping Marc will come to the theatre and see me after the show.’

‘Does that bother
you? Not knowing how and when you’re going to see him?’

‘No.
That part doesn’t bother me at all. It’s just getting through these last hours – that’s the problem.’

‘You were singing t
o yourself when you came out,’ says Jen. ‘Just like you used to. Am I getting my old, happy Sophia back?’

‘Hope so.’

Rodney pokes his head out of the back door. ‘Sophia. Can I get you breakfast?’

*****

I spend the rest of the day riding Ebony and hanging out with Jen and Sammy. And the day passes.

After dinner that night
, I’m having my usual fight with Rodney over who will do the clearing up, when there’s a knock at the door.

‘I’ll get it,’ I say
, drying my hands on a tea towel and heading out of the kitchen. ‘Dad will have forgotten his wallet or something.’

Dad is taking
Denise out tonight. Again. The two of them are really getting along. It’s good for Dad to have someone kind and caring in his life. I thoroughly approve. Although I do feel sad for him about Genoveva and how things ended.

The villag
e rumour mill says that Genoveva and her doctor boyfriend are having problems, and that she’s staying in a hotel right now. But since she hasn’t been in touch, and doesn’t take any of Dad’s calls, there’s no way of knowing.

I
have to admit, I’m glad Genoveva hasn’t come back. She’s shown her true colours, and if she doesn’t care enough about Sammy to come visit, then good riddance. I’ll always be here for him, and so will Jen, Dad and Denise.

Jen is upstairs giving Sammy his bath, so I shout up, ‘I
’ve got it Jen!’ as I pull open the front door.

On the doorstep is Leo, wearing a tight white t-shirt and ripped jeans.

‘Hey leading lady,’ says Leo. ‘Since it’s our last show together, I thought I’d pick you up one last time.’ He looks over my shoulder. ‘Is Jen here?’

I smile.
‘Yes. She is. You weren’t expecting dinner, where you? We just finished.’

Leo shakes his head. ‘
Nope. Just the pleasure of your company. And maybe Jen’s company.’

My smile turns into a grin.
‘Come on in. Keith will be here in half an hour. So you and Jen will have all that time to enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company. I think I might have some things to do in the garden …’

70

By the time Keith arrives, I have to practically drag Leo away from Jen. But not before he gets her number and she agrees to go out with him.

When I finally get Leo into the limo,
all he talks about is Jen, from the cottage to the theatre, and I have the pleasure of agreeing that she really is the most wonderful girl.

Our last performance together goes really well. I have to keep reminding myself how special it is that this is the end of my very first West End Show run. But I don’t forget for one moment that in a few hours time, I’ll be seeing Marc again.

When the curtain falls to thunderous applause, I head backstage and find Jen and Dad waiting.

‘Soph!
’ says Jen. ‘We have a surprise for you.’

‘H
ow come you two are back stage?’ I ask. ‘And what are you both smiling about?’

‘We have a note
,’ says Jen. ‘From Marc.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes.’ Jen reaches in her handbag and pulls out an envelope. It’s plain brown, with the words,
‘For Sophia, to be opened immediately after your last show’
written on it.

I frown. Mmm. That doesn’t sound like something Marc would write, but … I guess he likes surprising me.

‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the envelope and ripping it open, tugging out the white paper inside. The note has been typed on a computer in a heavy, blocky font.

When I read the words, my stomach drops and my mouth falls open.

Time for revenge, Sophia Rose.

Tonight, we snatched your brother, Samuel.

We will hurt him unless you do as we say.

DO NOT TALK TO ANYONE.

Go
straight to Marc Blackwell’s house in Richmond.

We will meet you there.

PAIN.

‘Where did you get this note?’ I ask Jen, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

‘It arrived at the cottage just after you left,’ says Jen. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yes, fine,’ I say, trying to hold my voice steady. ‘Absolutely fine. Marc just wants me to meet him, that’s all.’

‘He’s not coming here?’ says Jen. ‘It’ll b
e midnight soon.’

‘He’s … I’m going to meet him
somewhere else, okay?’ I wave the note. ‘Back soon.’

71

My huge Belle dress buffets around my legs as I head out of the theatre.

I run out into
the street crowd, heading towards Tottenham Court Road tube station.

Ev
eryone stares at me as I rattle along on the tube train to Richmond. But I don’t care. I have to get to Marc’s townhouse. I have to get to Sammy.

*****

When I arrive in West London, the night feels very still and there are clouds overhead. I can’t see the stars or the moon.

I reach the gates, unsure of my next plan.
Should I ring the buzzer? Or shout over the gates? But before I can make any decisions, I see something that makes my stomach pull tight.

There
are objects tied onto the black railings.

As I get
closer, I see one of the objects is a baby doll – the kind that closes its eyes when you lie it down. It’s been stripped of all its clothing, so its body is nothing more than white cotton with little plastic legs and arms attached. It’s been tied to the railing by the ankle, so it hangs upside down.

Next to the baby is what used to be a rose
, except there’s only a thorny stem left now – all the petals have been plucked off. There’s also a pair of handcuffs chained to the gate and a toy knife.

I look over the dark townhouse
and see no lights on. No one is home. Maybe this is all a hoax. A horrible joke from PAIN to frighten me, but nothing more.

I’m about to
try the buzzer, when I feel something hard bash my hand.

I turn around, but before I know what’s going on,
something grabs my hair and throws me to the ground. A clawed hand comes at my face, slapping and scratching, and as I shield myself with my arm, I see Cecile kneeling over me, her face scrunched up in anger.

‘You bitch,
’ she screeches. ‘It’s time you paid for what you did.’

I fend off her blows as best I can, but I
’m not going to try and hurt a pregnant woman. I just can’t do it.

‘Cecile,’ I say, as I slap at her hands and try to push her back. ‘This is crazy. You need help.’

‘I don’t need help,’ Cecile screams. ‘Why does everyone keep saying that?’

I manage to push her back a little, and now I’ve gotten over the shock of being knocked down, I begin to notice things about Cecile – the
slimness of her face and body, and the tight-fitting black cashmere jumper she wears.

If
she’s pregnant, where is the baby? Because there’s certainly no bump on that flat stomach of hers.

I scrabble to my feet. ‘
You’re not pregnant.’

Ceci
le gets up too. ‘I got rid of it. When they started asking me for all those tests.’

‘Did you write that note? Where’s Sammy?’

‘PAIN have him. If you want to see him again, you’d better come with me.’

My s
tomach pushes up into my throat and I feel myself heave. I put a hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ I say through my fingers.

‘I’m serious
.’

It’s too much. Before I can stop myself, I turn and vomit onto the pavement.

I feel like someone has put my chest in a big metal vice and squeezed all the air out of it.

‘Please don’t hurt him. I’ll go anywhere you want.’

‘The car’s over here.’