Celebrity Bride (17 page)

I'm swaying between a reluctance to behave badly and a determination to uncover the truth. If Rufus is being straight, then he has nothing to fear from my search through his office; if he's not being straight then he deserves everything he gets.

I open the main drawer of his desk (walnut . . . everything in this room is walnut with a green leather desk pad and green leather cushion on the chair). In the drawer there's mainly stationery and a couple of personal notes that are bank related or film related or business related or agent related or blah, blah, blah, blah, blah . . . what's this? There's a small internal drawer at the back of the main drawer which doesn't open . . . that
must
be where he keeps all sorts of incriminating things that he doesn't want me to see. Shit. Where can the key be? I'm going through every drawer in a mad hurry now – not searching for photos or letters as I was previously, but for a key to let myself into this drawer that I'm convinced
must
contain something incriminating, derogatory or downright mean. My conviction that the drawer is full of proof of misbehaviour strengthens with every moment that I can't find the key.

Why would someone have a drawer within a drawer that's locked and no sign of a key anywhere? If that's not dodgy then I don't know what is. Clearly there are things in the drawer that he doesn't want me to see . . . why else would it be all locked up like this? Has he taken the key with him? I
have
to get into that drawer. A hammer? If I could splinter the front of the drawer and stick my fingers inside, at least I'd know what was in there. Then if I could feel something that concerned me unduly, I could take the whole drawer out. If not, it would be easy enough to get someone to repair some splintered wood.

I reach up and open the glass case on the wall, which contains many of Rufus's awards and gifts. Most of the very expensive things are kept in a big vault under the house that no one in the world knows about. (When I moved in, he asked me whether I had anything very expensive that I wanted to put in there for safe-keeping . . . er . . . no! The only valuables in my possession are my lovely jewellery box and the things that Rufus buys me, and there's no way I want those hidden away. I want them with me so I can see them, touch them and enjoy them.) But he keeps some things in the cabinet that he likes to look at. One of those things is a big, chunky dagger, covered in jewels. It's magnificent. Apparently, it was presented to Rufus by the Prime Minister of India and two Bollywood stars, when he went there with the United Nations food programme. They gave it to him to celebrate his Oscar for
The Jewelled Dagger
.

I pick it up, feeling the weight between my fingers, and begin smashing into the little drawer. I smash some more until the front of the drawer is reduced to splinters of wood. There's nothing in there. Shit. I drop the dagger onto the floor with a dramatic flourish.

'Kelly?'

I spin round like a woman possessed to see Julie standing there. 'What is it?' I spit out. I don't mean to sound so venomous but I'm embarrassed. I had no idea she was there.

'Are you OK?' she asks.

'I'm fine.'

'There's something I wanted to mention. I mean, it's none of my business and I'm guessing now's not a good time but I've been trying to talk to you over the last couple of days, when you've been on your own, away from Elody, but this is the first chance I've had.'

'What is it?' I ask impatiently. It feels like everything's falling apart around me. I'm not really in the mood for guessing games with this woman, however much I like her.

'It's just that a lot of letters have come for you, and Elody takes them all. A letter came this morning marked "URGENT – please, please give this to Kelly Monsoon". I pulled it out of the pile to make sure that it went straight to you, but when Elody left, she took it with her, as she always takes all your letters.'

'Why does she take my letters?'

'I don't know. She told us that all your post was being dealt with by her people.'

'Oh.' The truth is that I didn't know that I'd even had any letters. Why would Elody have taken everything? Unless she does have a secretary somewhere sorting them out for me? Still, she should have checked with me first to make sure that's what I wanted to happen to them. And what happens when they're sorted out? Will she bring them back?

'Thanks,' I say, managing to force out a smile as Julie backs out of the room.

'Elody. It's me, Kelly. Where are you?'

I need to ask her about these bloody letters and to tell her that there's nothing untoward in the house. There's no sign of any improper behaviour from Rufus at all. In fact, the only improper behaviour is from her – nicking all my post. And from me – breaking into my boyfriend's desk with his treasured dagger.

Elody has only just left the beauticians, but she senses the urgency in my voice and, more likely, is thrilled by the sound of the devastation I've caused in Rufus's office, so promises she'll come over as soon as she possibly can and explain to me where the letters are and why she took them.

'I'll be there before you can say "Gucci",' she says. 'Once I've dealt with some essentials, I'll be with you.' The essentials, it turns out, are waiting for her nails to dry and buying a sparkly clutch bag with matching sequined purse. By the time she arrives, I'm frantic.

'I took your letters so we could check there was nothing rude or offensive in them,' she says. 'You're on the verge of being famous. There are nutters out there. Of course I sent your letters to be opened independently. Rufus would never forgive me if I didn't.'

'So, where are they now?'

'They're being catalogued, but don't worry – I'll drop them all in tomorrow morning for you to have. They're just letters, Kelly. Don't get so het up. Now, show me the desk.'

I take Elody into Rufus's office.

'You smashed it up with this?' says Elody, quizzically, pointing to the hefty, heavily bejewelled dagger that's lying on Rufus's chair. She notices the blood on the top of the blade.

'Ooooo . . . blood.'

'Yes,' I say. 'I had to give it quite a whack. My hand slipped and I cut my fingers.'

'This is the award he received from India.'

'I know.'

'It's priceless,' she continues.

'I realise that.'

'It shouldn't even be in here. It should be in the safe under the house.'

How the hell does she know there's a safe under the house? Rufus said that no one knew about that.

'I realise that it was given to him and that it's precious.' I'm all too well aware that it's supposed to represent the jewelled dagger from his Oscar-winning film. I know all that. 'I just wasn't thinking and I grabbed it and used it to ram open the drawer,' I try to explain.

'Well, was that wise?'

Der! Wise . . . fucking wise? No of course it wasn't wise.

'It doesn't matter,' she says dismissively. 'Tell me what was in there?' Her limited interest in my welfare is now overruled by her fascination with what secrets I may have uncovered. 'Well . . . what was there?' she demands, starring into my eyes so fiercely that I feel myself shiver. 'Tell me you found something or I'll be furious. You dragged me away from the fucking shops.'

Fuck. I suddenly feel scared. I see her look over at the dagger and it occurs to me that she could kill me. Oh God. There's no one on this floor of the house. Her eyes look as dark as night. For the first time in my life I feel genuinely worried that a woman is going to hurt me.

'There was nothing in there,' I say almost apologetically. 'Sorry, but there wasn't.'

I just want her to go now. I should never have asked her to come back here. She's really scaring me.

'There was nothing in there? Nothing!' she exclaims. 'Why did you make me come here?'

'I wanted to know about the letters. That's why I called you, then I mentioned that I'd found nothing in Rufus's room. I told you about the damage because I was desperate and thought you could help me mend the desk. You know, help me find a carpenter.'

'No,' she says. 'I don't "do" household repairs. Get David to sort it.'

'But I need to keep this quiet from Rufus, I can't involve David.'

'Well, I can't help – I'm still reeling from disappointment that you didn't find anything.'

'Disappointment? I'm glad I didn't find anything. It would have been awful to find that he'd been unfaithful. I have to say that I'm relieved. What were you expecting me to find?'

'Something that allowed you to know for sure. You know . . . just something that would tell you once and for all what he'd been up to.'

'Well, the fact that I've found nothing means I know for sure, as far as I'm concerned. Look, I'm sorry that I dragged you over here. I'll get Henry to drive you back.'

'No. I'm not going anywhere until I've talked some sense into you,' she says, clenching her fists in horror and screwing up her face. This is not a good look for her, but I sense that this would be the wrong time to tell her that. 'Finding nothing means you are a bad hunter . . . or it means he's a good hider . . . or it means he destroys the evidence as he's going along. It doesn't mean he's got nothing to hide.'

She's all hunched over like Inspector Clouseau as she speaks. I expect her to pull out a magnifying glass. 'Men are always cheating on women,' she says. 'They are . . . that's what they are doing . . . all of the time. The fact that you can't prove it is your fault. There are things to find, Kelly; why haven't you found them?'

'Elody,' I say, my exasperation showing through. I can be as paranoid as the next woman but, for Christ's sake, this is getting ridiculous. 'Let's just stop this now. I know there's nothing to worry about. Everything's fine. I just need to get on with my life and stop worrying. I need to stop taking these pills and get myself thinking rationally for a change.'

'Stop the diet pills? Are you insane?' she cries. 'Are you?' She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. 'You have to keep taking the pills. You have to. Don't let me down. Don't make me look a fool.'

She turns and sits down, examining her eyebrows in a small hand mirror.

What's wrong with her? It's like she's taken leave of her senses.

'Get someone to make me tea,' she instructs. 'Call the staff. I need green tea.'

Her presence in the house is choking me. I want her gone, so I can sort all this mess out.

'It's time for you to go,' I try.

'You called me and I came,' she is sneering at me as she speaks, in the same way as I've seen her sneer at so many people . . . people like Mandy and Sophie. How I wish the girls were here now. They'd be encouraging me, reassuring me, helping me and distracting me. They'd have troubles of their own that they wanted to share. I'd help them and our friendship would build on our sharing and helping. God, but life's so different with these women I've met through Rufus, or certainly with Elody it is.

She sees that I do not move to get her green tea, so she stands up, packing away her little hand mirror.

'Fine,' she says. 'I'm going. You are no friend. Stay fat if that's what you want. Look frumpy. I can do nothing else.'

Elody storms out, slamming doors and barging past the staff in the corridors. As the front door shuts behind her I collapse into Rufus's armchair and utter an almighty sigh of relief. Thank God she's gone. I was genuinely scared for a minute there; scared she'd turn on me.

I pick up the phone straight away and call Sophie's mobile. The phone goes to the standard answerphone message that I've heard so many times I know it off by heart. 'Welcome to Tesco mobile . . .' Fuck. I feel tears start to run down my face. I'm not normally so pathetic but right now I feel awful. I reach out for the Yellow Pages, and randomly pick out a carpenter, summoning him to this house as soon as possible. It's clearly wholly inappropriate to invite a bloody carpenter whom I know nothing about into the private home of one of the world's richest and most famous actors. But the fact that I have a desk smashed to pieces and in desperate need of fixing before Rufus comes back tomorrow night has assumed a far greater importance in my mind than home security.

It turns out the carpenter can't come till the following morning . . . the day of Rufus's return. Bollocks.

'If I pay you double, can you come first thing?' I ask, plaintively.

'Not till I've finished a job in Putney.'

Double bollocks.

It's midday, after another sleepless night, and the carpenter has just turned up. He's quite handsome actually, in a rugged and dishevelled sort of way – just the type I'd have gone for before Rufus came wafting into my life. I had a lot of boyfriends before Rufus. Well, not boyfriends as such, it might be more realistic to describe them as boys who fancied me. I used to get asked out a lot but never met anyone special, you know. Never met anyone I really wanted to get all dressed up for . . . until Rufus swept me off my feet, some eight months and half a lifetime ago.

I fell in love with Rufus as soon as I saw him. I know that sounds daft but I did. The day I met him something changed in me; the world tilted on its axis and I knew nothing would ever be quite the same again. If that's not love, then what is? It was – boom – heart given away. I just adored him from day one, and whatever happens I know I will until I die. He's perfect. I love being with him, seeing him and talking to him. In fact, the only good thing about these drugs keeping me awake all night is that I get to talk to Rufus in LA in the small hours of the morning.

I spoke to Rufus loads last night; we were chatting away for ages because it was the last time we'd be able to speak before his arrival back at Heathrow.

'I'll try calling you from the plane,' he said, as only a man who flies first class everywhere could. 'But I've got three on-board business meetings booked, so it might be difficult to find the time.'

I told Rufus how much fun I'd been having (lie) but how much I was looking forward to him coming back (oh, so true). I told him I'd lost weight. Nearly a stone! He didn't react with the level of enthusiasm I was hoping for given that Elody has convinced me that it was my excess weight standing between me and a lifetime in paradise with him.

'Don't go dieting for me; I love you just the way you are. As far as I'm concerned, you're absolutely perfect.'

'God I miss you,' I said and, if Rufus were any boyfriend I've ever been out with before, there'd have been a long silence, followed by, 'Listen, I have to go; I'm meeting Darren/Mike/Pete/Dyllis (delete as applicable) in the pub in five minutes, we're going to get shit-faced.' But, no. This is Rufus, so he said: 'Kelly, I've never missed anyone as much as I've missed you. I adore you. I can't wait to see you. To be honest, I've got something important to say.'

I spent a moment in a mild panic about the fact that the 'something' might be his need to address me on the subject of me, randomly and without a shadow of proof, searching through every item of his clothing and paperwork in the search for evidence of infidelity. Or wanting to talk to me about the fact that I smashed up his desk with an unimaginably expensive and unique jewelled dagger handmade on the thighs of virgins in India . . . or something. Or, indeed, that I've organised for a carpenter to come round without knowing anything about the carpentry firm and thus prejudiced our security and safety. But, no, Rufus merely repeated that he loved me more than he'd ever loved anyone and that what he had to say would have to wait until he was back. Then he left to get his flight.

The carpenter is now in the house walking around, taking in the undeniable magnificence of the place while trying to look cool, calm and relaxed, as if he really hasn't noticed its splendour. He's clearly awe-struck by the magnificence of it all. I guess I forget just how lucky I am to live in a place like this. I tend to think of it as a prison these days; what with the paparazzi keeping me locked inside, and my friends no longer wanting to see me, and me not being able to hold down the most basic of jobs (I'm not bitter at all; hell no, not bitter in the least).

'I had a bit of an accident with this . . .' I tell the carpenter. His name's Colin. Colin the Carpenter. That's nice. I always have a particular fondness for people whose names and job titles combine to make them sound like a character from
Noddy
.

I indicate towards the desk drawer and Colin peers inside.

'It looks OK to me,' he says.

'No, inside the drawer,' I explain. 'There's a little drawer in the main one that's all splintered. You'll have to look right inside the drawer to see it.'

He peers in and sees the damage. 'No problem,' he says. 'I'll have it fixed in no time.'

Thank God.

'It needs to look the same,' I plead. 'You know, as if no damage has been done.'

'I'll do my best,' he says, looking up at me. He sees my worried face. 'Is everything OK?' he asks, warmly. 'You seem agitated.'

'No, I'm fine. As long as I can get this drawer mended, everything will be fine.'

'Good,' he says. 'Only I wondered, because of the woman waiting in the car outside. She looked angry.'

'What woman?'

The carpenter has pulled the drawer out and is matching slivers of wood to it as we speak.

'She's outside. Just sitting there. Take a look.'

I peer through the window, and see Elody in the back of the car, with Henry at the wheel. She's staring ahead, motionless, and he's looking down at the steering wheel as if he doesn't know quite what to do. What the hell does she want now?

'It's nothing,' I tell my carpenter friend. He's pulled out the drawer completely and is fashioning a new one out of matching wood.

'I'll call you when I've finished,' he says. 'There's no need for you to sit here if you don't want to.'

I hear the doorbell ringing in the distance and know that it will be Elody. Perhaps she saw me looking at her through the window? Perhaps she's decided to return my letters to me?

The carpenter is sanding, sawing and slicing through wood and looks for all the world like a decent, honourable man – grafting away before us. I'm sure he's perfectly trustworthy, so I leave him to it as I head off to answer the door.

'Just call me if you need me,' I say.

I hear the shuffle of Pamela's sensible working shoes as the housekeeper heads for the door. I know that if she answers, Elody will barge past her and be in the house and getting her latest fix of 'Kelly's wardrobe problems' before I can stop her.

'I'll get it,' I say, skipping down the stairs, past Pam, as if I have not a care in the world. I swing open the door and come face to face with Elody.