Happy Endings (8 page)

‘Burger and chips please,’ I said and I noticed the look on his face. ‘Sorry, what should I have ordered? The side salad? Soup? A glass of water?’

‘No, not at all. I was just thinking how refreshing it is to be with someone like you.’

‘A complete pig?’

‘No, an actress who eats real food, doesn’t get all mental and stick thin at the first sight of success and looks absolutely stunning just as she is.’

His Welsh accent turned me to jelly and I went a deep shade of burgundy, which was bad enough, but became worse because Rhys noticed straight away. He smiled at me and I didn’t know where in the world to look. I excused myself and went to the toilet while he ordered.

‘What kind of actress do you want to be?’ said Rhys when we were tucking into our food.

‘When I was young and fresh out of university I wanted to be just like Kate Winslet. Picking and choosing great roles, powerful roles in cool indie films, but my last audition was for a dead person in
Casualty
. So, to answer your question, anything.’

‘After this film, let’s hope you won’t have to play any more dead people.’

‘Oh, I didn’t get it. Apparently, I didn’t look quite dead enough,’ I said and Rhys burst out laughing.

Sitting with Rhys and going through the script over countless cups of coffee was like a dream come true. It was the life I’d always craved and I had to pinch myself; I was actually living it. During the three hours we sat talking, drinking and getting to know one another, a few young girls came by and asked for his autograph. He was polite and affable and had his photograph taken with a smile. I sat in my seat feeling like the luckiest girl in London. Somehow I was sharing lunch with Britain’s most eligible bachelor and
Heat
magazine’s hunkiest bloke of the year. It was almost five o’clock when we finally stood up to leave.

‘Fancy a drink? I’m meeting a couple of mates in Soho,’ said Rhys, putting on his jacket.

‘I shouldn’t.’

‘Which means you will, right?’

It meant I shouldn’t. Jack would be home from his mum’s already and what would I say to him? Just popping out for a drink with Rhys Connelly and some of his mates in Soho, you don’t mind, do you? I’m sure given his already frosty reaction to my sex scenes with Rhys and his general ill-feeling towards the film he wouldn’t appreciate me having a drink with him too. Just as I was on the verge of saying no and slouching off home to Jack, something stopped me. He had no right to be jealous. I’d done nothing wrong and if he couldn’t be happy for me then that was his fault.

‘I’d love to,’ I said and we walked out of the café and straight into a paparazzi ambush. No sooner had we left the café than four cameras were taking our photo and questions were shouted at us two at a time. Who’s your friend, Rhys? Is she your girlfriend? What’s your name, love? Where you going, Rhys? What did you have to eat, Rhys? What did you eat, love? Is that a Mulberry handbag? What film you doing next, Rhys? I heard something big in the States? They went on and on as the cameras flashed and flashed, until Rhys grabbed my hand and whisked me away to a waiting cab. My mind was a whirlwind. What had just happened? Did this happen everywhere he went? Did my Zara handbag really look like a Mulberry?

‘You’ll get used to that,’ said Rhys, as we climbed in the back of the black cab.

‘I think I’m going to enjoy this,’ I said with a breathless smile as we started off towards Soho and a night out on the town with Rhys Connelly and his fabulous friends.

To: Kate Jones

From: Emma Fogle

Subject: Re: I made it!

K,

I got the part! I couldn’t believe it at first. I still don’t. It was so surreal. There we were at the restaurant with Matt Wallace, the famous director, and he offered me the lead role opposite Rhys Connelly! It’s still sinking in to be honest. Rhys turned up at the restaurant too and yes, he’s just as sexy in real life. Probably sexier, actually. I think Jack felt a little bit overwhelmed by it all. He’s been a bit weird since. I’m not sure what his problem is and, typical Jack, he’s not talking about it. Agh . . . men! Still, I’m finally living my dream and you’re living yours too! It’s so strange how life works itself out.

I wish I could pop over and pay you a visit. I miss you too. After I found out about the film you were the first person I wanted to tell. I wanted to give you a big hug and then break open the champagne and get plastered. Instead I had to make do with just a grumpy Jack. Mother’s over the moon, obviously. I think she phoned everyone she knew after I told her. She’s even been ringing me up, so I know it’s a big deal. Still, as soon as you get back we’re going to celebrate! I’m looking forward to seeing some photos too young lady, so make sure you send me some ASAP!

Ed was pretty quiet on the drive back to London. He’s definitely missing you. I haven’t seen him since you left, but Jack met him for lunch a couple of times and said he was looking a bit depressed. Still, he had the chance to come with you and he didn’t so it’s his fault. Don’t feel bad for him or regret going. Like you said, you’re doing this for YOU!

So Jez, eh? A bit of a dish? It’s probably better travelling with a bloke anyway. It’s safer. I’m so jealous. I haven’t had a decent holiday in ages. We’re always so broke. After the film things will be different! We’re definitely going somewhere lovely and warm for our honeymoon and I’m going to make Mother pay for it. Maybe the Seychelles.

I’m going away with the cast to a mansion in Berkshire for a week in February, which is quite exciting! I haven’t had the guts to tell Jack yet. He’s being all weird and I don’t want to make things worse. I’ll tell him soon, when he’s stopped being such a baby. What is it with men? It’s like they’ve never properly grown up or something and as soon as something doesn’t go their way they sulk.

Well, that’s it from over here. I have a script to read. I’m a very important actress now don’t you know!

Make sure you email again soon. I want to hear all about the islands with Jez! Miss you.

Love Em X

Kate

When I was back in England, dreaming about my trip, I always envisaged a moment when it would all make sense. An epiphany, I suppose, when I knew I’d accomplished something special. That moment came during the second week of my trip. After Jez and I left Bangkok, we boarded a bus at the Southern Bus Terminal and headed south. It was a tumultuous journey: a challenging bus trip of nearly fourteen hours and then a two-and-a-half-hour boat ride, which I was a little apprehensive about as the last time I was on a ferry I spent most of the time throwing up.

We left Bangkok at six o’clock in the evening and we wouldn’t be in Koh Phangan until early afternoon the following day. It was a long journey, but we soon settled in. The bus was far more comfortable than I’d imagined and it went by fairly quickly with card games, sleep and talking about what we were going to do for the next ten days in paradise. I’d had fun in Bangkok and it was the perfect introduction to my trip, but I was ready for a change of scenery. Once we left behind the craziness of the city and headed into the country, it was a bit of a watershed for me and I almost cried. I had made it. I was doing it, not quite on my own, but as good as. I felt like a proper backpacker.

The moment that really brought it all together and made me pinch myself came the next day. Jez and I were on the ferry heading out towards the island of Koh Phangan. It was a bright sunny day and mainland Thailand stretched out, disappearing ever further into the distance, its rainforests, beaches and cities left behind as we headed out to an island in the Gulf of Thailand. I was sitting on the back of the boat next to Jez, the wind in my hair and the smell of the ocean filtering through my nose. A ray of sunshine created a dappling effect on the ocean and then I smiled. I smiled because I knew that was it.

On my old office computer back in London, I had an image of Thailand as my screensaver. I looked at it every day, and it was almost the same image as I saw in front of me. It wasn’t exactly the same place, but it looked so similar and suddenly it hit me. I’d done it. I’d made my dream come true and no matter what happened on the rest of the trip and for the rest of my life, I’d done that. It was truly an incredible feeling and one that was worth every penny, argument and mile travelled. I felt for the first time, perhaps in my whole life, like I was actually living instead of just existing. Jez had been telling me all the way down that Koh Phangan was absolute paradise and he wasn’t wrong. As soon as we stepped off the boat and onto the perfect sandy beach, I was awestruck. The turquoise water was so clear and the sand was a golden yellow and warm between my toes. Small Thai fishing boats sat in the water looking like props on a film set and palm trees hung over the beach, creating shadows that disappeared into the sea. We took a bumpy old minivan to the resort Jez had stayed at on his last visit. It was right on the beach and we had our own little bungalow, surrounded by lush rainforest and a thirty-second walk to an incredible secluded bay. There was, however, one slight problem.

‘Just one bed?’ I said to the lady at reception. She was a small Thai lady with a face of adamantine stillness. ‘And you have nothing else?’ She continued looking at me as if I’d asked her to unravel the mysteries of the universe in a language she barely seemed to grasp. She only spoke in short, sharp snaps, which sounded like she was trying to clear her throat, not communicate.

‘We’ll take it,’ said Jez, handing over the money before I had the chance to say anything else. ‘Trust me. It will be worth it.’

This was how Jez and I ended up sharing a bungalow on the beach with only one bed, which would have been fine if the bed hadn’t been a small twin and we had to sleep with almost nothing on due to the heat. It was a situation designed to cause the greatest amount of sexual tension between two young people of the opposite sex in paradise for ten whole days. Throw in copious amounts of alcohol, applying sun screen, trips to and from the shower and the fact we definitely quite fancied each other and things didn’t look good. Maybe I should have got out while the going was good, but I couldn’t. I told myself again and again that we could do it. We could be platonic. Jez was just my friend. My travelling buddy. Mates.

‘So this was your evil plan,’ I said.

‘I should probably have booked ahead or something.’

‘Really?’

‘You take the bed. I’ll be fine on the floor.’

Jez looked at me with a solemn schoolboy face. I could tell he felt bad, but he also knew I wouldn’t make him sleep on the floor. I looked down at the hard uneven boards, scattered with dust, bugs and the occasional stray nail. Ten days on that floor and his back would be ruined for life. Not to mention the possibilities of spiders and mosquitos.

‘No funny business,’ I said with a stern face.

Jez smiled and threw his backpack on the bed next to mine; a strange prequel to our actual bodies lying there that night.

Despite the bed situation, life on Koh Phangan quickly fell into an easy routine. We’d get up around nine or ten, usually a bit hung-over, and have breakfast at the hostel. Most days it was just fruit and cereal, a cup of coffee and toast. Then we’d go to the beach and read our books, swim in the crystal-clear water, snorkel, go kayaking or take a walk through the rainforest. On the first morning we were still quite tired from the journey and so after breakfast we camped out on the gorgeous beach. Jez had brought along his guitar, and I was leafing aimlessly through my Lonely Planet travel guide. Jez was strumming along and started singing the first few lines of a song. I didn’t recognise it and so assumed it must have been one of his.

‘I like it.’

‘It’s just something I’m working on.’

‘Play me the rest.’

‘It isn’t ready,’ said Jez, looking at me coyly from under the brim of his straw hat.

‘Oh go on. For me. Please,’ I said, giving him the face that always worked on Ed.

‘Fine, just for you,’ said Jez. ‘It doesn’t have a title yet and I still have work to do on the chorus, but here goes.’

Jez launched into his song and it was incredible. He had a really amazing voice, a bit raspy, but soulful and full of passion. It was the first time I’d heard him sing one of his own songs all the way through and it blew me away. I sat there in awe until eventually he finished.

‘Fucking hell, Jez.’

‘Terrible?’

‘No, it was amazing. You’re really good.’

‘Thanks,’ said Jez and even with the heat of the day, I could see his face go red and I felt myself fall slightly more in like with him than I already was. The memories of sitting next to my dad when I was very small, listening to him play the guitar and sing me songs popped into my head, but I managed to squash them quickly. I was trying to keep any thoughts of my father as far away as possible.

‘What do your parents think about Jez the musician?’

‘As opposed to Jez the doctor?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Dad would like me to go into medicine like him. Mum thinks I’m wasting my time. “You’re too clever to throw it all away on a silly pipe dream, Jeremy,” she says every time I see her. I don’t expect them to understand me in the same way I don’t understand them. And it’s worse since . . .’ he said, and then stopped.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Fancy a drink? I’m gasping.’