Lovestruck (16 page)

‘Forty-one. My birthday isn’t until Thursday.’

‘Forty-one. What on earth are you going to do with an autograph?’

‘Sell it on eBay. Isn’t she gorgeous?’

‘Please!
Leave her alone.’

‘Just going to the loo.’ Becki jumped up and beetled towards Ellie’s table.

Face burning, Rosie stared at the toast rack. This was horrible. What was she saying? Jake would kill her. Seconds later, her sister-in-law returned beaming.

‘More tea please, waiter. She’s going to give me an autograph! And she says why didn’t you let her know you were here? She’d love to get together.’ She raised her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in Ellie’s direction, but Ellie appeared engrossed in her book again.

‘No!’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to hang out with a woman I don’t know and I sincerely doubt she wants to hang out with me.’

Becki shook her head. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to you. You’re married to my baby brother, who used to sit on my knee, but now you both think you’re better than the rest of us.’

‘No, we don’t!’

‘I remember how excited you were when Jake got cast in
Archbishop Grace
. I bet you were asking all the cast for autographs. But look at you now.’ She took a mouthful of toast and, spitting out crumbs, added, ‘Anyway, I told Ellie we were here for her, if she wanted to talk about any relationship problems.’

‘What relationship problems?!’

‘She’s a star. None of them are happy. But we’ll soon
know all the details. We’re going to end up spending lots of time with Ellie Lewis. Mark my words.’ Becki tapped her nose in that infuriating way of hers.

And, as things turned out, they actually did end up spending quite a lot of time with Ellie Lewis. They bumped into her in the swimming pool and they all ended up having lunch together in their bathrobes, sitting at a little table outside the café.

‘Of course I remember you from that
pre-meer
,’ Ellie had gushed, taking both of Rosie’s hands in hers and holding them for what seemed like a long, long time – not least because Rosie realized how gnarled her hands were compared to Ellie’s lily petals. ‘I only wish I’d had more time to speak to you that night. But now we have a chance. It’s really nice to have someone to chat to. I’d thought I was being really brave and alternative coming here on my own, but I’ve felt a bit lonely. I mean I had my book.’ She held up a copy of
Anna Karenina
. ‘I love these French writers. I really wanted to get stuck in last night but I fell asleep. I was tired. I’m always tired at the moment. I’ve been going to bed really early. Anyway, as I said, I was feeling lonely …’

‘Aah, you’ve got us now,’ Becki said.

Ellie squeezed Rosie’s hands again. ‘Now when you move to LA we can hang out. It’ll be like the best fun. You have kids, don’t you? Jake’s always talking about you and your little girls.’

‘Boys. But I’m not sure if you’d like to hang out with them.’ Rosie tried not to smile as an image of George
performing the bum-bum dance for Ellie Lewis flashed into her mind.

Becki’s face lit up. ‘Move to LA? When? I didn’t know about this. That’d be wicked. I’ve always wanted to take the kids to Disneyland and Universal and that place where the stars have their handprints in the pavement. Get a place with a pool and that’s our holidays sorted for life.’

‘We’re not moving to LA,’ Rosie said firmly. ‘In a million years,’ she added just to clarify.

‘Oh? He told me it was like a done deal with the Disney guys. You
should
come; we would have the best fun hanging out together.’ Ellie glanced at the Rolex on her dainty wrist. ‘Oh my God, it’s, like, nearly two. I have a massage and facial booked. But, ladies, I’m enjoying your company so much. You’re both so …
real
. I don’t meet many people like you. Shall we do dinner tonight? In my suite, so we have some privacy? I can ask them to prepare something with wheat and dairy for you, if you’d prefer.’

‘Really, I don’t …’ Rosie had started to say, as Becki exclaimed, ‘We’d love that! You’re on!’

That afternoon, Rosie was booked in for a manicure and pedicure, while Becki had the full-body massage.

She sat in a comfy chair, the beautician filing her toenails as she leafed through glossy magazines that didn’t feature Ben 10 or ZingZillas, but which did contain perfume samples. (Rosie surreptitiously pocketed a couple, plus one mini Estée Lauder foundation.) She flicked through a
Homes and Gardens
, but instead of captivating her, as such magazines always used to, she found herself feeling oddly jangly reading about other people’s apparently perfect lives. She brightened, however, at the feature on Simon Barry and Brunhilde von Fournigan at home in their Oxfordshire rectory (‘They also have a house in London’s Shoreditch.’).

Barry preserved the staircase and exposed the joists. Other pieces, from the vintage escutcheons scavenged at Ye Olde Scrappe Yard to the many reclaimed doors they’re affixed to, were found at antique fairs but made to look like they have been there forever. ‘It was just a matter of uncovering the charm. And Brunny did all the colours,’ explains Barry, surrounded by walls painted in his wife’s favourite hue: Fetching Blue from Unusual in Paris. ‘You’d never guess a supermodel could be so down-to-earth, but my wife is. And she eats like a pig, more than me – I swear! Her favourite food is bratwurst
.

Not
so long ago Rosie would have felt inspired. She’d have googled the suppliers of Brunhilde and Simon’s shabby-chic furniture, she’d have reeled at the cost of one pot of Fetching Blue. But now she just felt jaded. They had looked so miserable when she’d spotted them at that premiere party and she knew from Jake that Brunhilde had only two topics of conversation, that Octavius was in nappies aged four and that Richenda had failed to get into
the
east London prep school, despite two years of intensive tutoring.

She thought back to her and Christy lying on Christy’s bed with the frilly white valence – how Rosie had yearned for a valence – reading about people like that, thinking about how perfect their lives must be, how they could never have any worries at all. But now, she supposed, she was one of them and nothing fundamental had changed. She lived in a bigger house, she could wear more expensive clothes, but she was still worrying about Toby’s eating habits, still bonkers about the boys but at the same time occasionally finding a day in their company utterly stultifying, still in love with her husband …

Still in love.
Was
she? As
much as she used to be? Course she was, she thought crossly. She didn’t want to think about it. Here was an article about Ellie Lewis. Excellent! Rosie started reading avidly, recalling all the details. A beauty queen from the Midwest, she’d stunned everyone by winning the pivotal role in
O’Rourke’s
. Her critics thought she couldn’t possibly tackle such a meaty part but it won a string of Golden Globes.

Despite her dazzling beauty, she was perpetually single. ‘Will London be the city where Ellie finally finds romance?’ blared the article, over a photo of Ellie looking aloof in a belted mac and shades. Rosie wondered if she could pull off an outfit like that – it made Ellie look like a blonde Audrey Hepburn but she feared on herself it would be more Karren Brady in
The Apprentice
.

‘Doing your homework for tonight?’ shrilled Becki from the doorway. Rosie jumped.

The manicurist sighed. ‘Your polish is smudged now.’

Ellie was staying in the Lady Astor suite,

‘Bloody hell, Rosie, it’s bigger than our house! Why didn’t you book us into one of these?’

‘I’ll know for next time.’ Rosie was looking around. The room was stuffed with antiques and old portraits – including one of Lady Astor herself. Above the crackling fire (not strictly necessary on a balmy June night) there was an elaborate overmantel carved with exotic creatures. A door led out on to a vast terrace,
with heart-stopping views of the manicured gardens sweeping down to a glinting bend in the Thames.

‘What a perfect place to eat!’

‘Actually, I’m a little chilly, so do you mind if we stay indoors?’

‘Oh, sure,’ said Rosie, trying not to sound too disappointed. She sat in one of the stuffed armchairs and eagerly eyed a bottle nestling in a cooler.

Ellie caught her eye. ‘Elderflower wine. I’m not drinking right now. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘I hope you don’t mind’ was a bit of an Ellie phrase, Rosie was realizing, said with the sweetest, but steeliest, smile. She smiled back as Ellie continued: ‘Of course you can order anything you like. Why don’t you have a bottle of champagne?’

‘Sounds like a top idea,’ Becki said. ‘Shall I call down to room service?’

Oh crikey, a bottle of champagne would cost hundreds of pounds. Was Ellie paying, or Rosie?

‘My treat,’ Ellie said smoothly. Rosie blushed. Why was she being so stingy? She would never be able to accept they could afford all this.

‘Oh no, no …’ she tried, but Ellie raised a hand.

‘Please! Don’t insult me. You’re Jake’s wife. And, like I say, I’m thrilled to get to know you better. I haven’t gotten to know Jake as well as I’d like; he goes out drinking a lot after the show, and, as I said, I’m not drinking right now and—’

‘I’m so proud of him,’ Becki interrupted. ‘Hey, I forgot to say when I was having my pedicure: I was checking
out pictures of him and the pair of you at that premiere the other week. People say some nasty things online, don’t they? Why do they have to be so bitchy?’

‘Oh tell me about it,’ Ellie said airily, as Rosie – knowing she shouldn’t go there – asked: ‘What did they say?’

‘Oh, you know, they couldn’t believe a bird like you’d pulled a hunk like Jake. Didn’t like your hair. Thought your knickers were showing under your dress. Nasty, petty stuff.’

Rosie felt sick. Were people really so horrified by her appearance they’d been going online to log their outrage?

Ellie saw her face and shook her head disapprovingly. ‘Don’t go there. You’ll go crazy. Never read those comments. I learned that way back when everyone said I was too pretty to play Dolores. Just do your own sweet thing and fuck the rest of them.’

She was about to say more when her phone rang. At the caller ID, her expression changed. ‘Sorry, I have to take this. Hello? Hello, LaTonza? How is he? Oh …’ She listened. She looked very serious. A voice at the other end gabbled. ‘I see,’ said Ellie. ‘Oh God. Oh, LaTonza. I am so sorry. I do understand. I know, I wish I could be there to see him, but I’m stuck in England for the foreseeable future. I don’t know when I’m going to get a window long enough to fly to Ohio … Uh-huh … Keep me posted … Thank you, thank you, LaTonza. You’re an angel, you know that?’ She hung up. ‘Shit.’

‘What
is it? I mean, if you want to talk about it.’

‘It’s my dad.’ Ellie was clearly close to tears. ‘He’s not been well for a long time. He has dementia. His carer says he’s gotten worse these past few days. He’s refusing to eat, he keeps calling for me and swearing at her. He just called her a “black bitch”.’

‘How awful!’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘You poor thing.’

‘Sally Ellis – she’s such a hoot normally, the things she did on our karaoke night – she has a problem like that,’ said Becki, as Ellie’s phone rang again.

‘Sorry!’ She held up an apologetic hand. ‘Hello, oh, hi, Sharon … No. Tell him I won’t speak to him. No! It’s over. And, anyway, I’ve heard what he’s been saying about me all round town. Bad-mouthing me. Did he think it wouldn’t get back to me?’

She hung up. ‘Fuck him.’ Her chin began to wobble. ‘Why me? Dad and the other thing and now this too …’

‘Are you OK?’ Rosie asked. ‘What happened?’

‘Men!’ said Becki. ‘It reminds me of the time Dave forgot to take out the recycling. Did I ever tell you about that, he—’

‘Becki …’ Rosie warned, as this time her phone rang. ‘Oh! It’s Jake. Excuse me. I’m sorry, I’ll be back in a second.’

‘Say hi,’ said Ellie distractedly, as Rosie stepped out on to the balcony. She leaned against a heavy stone urn. ‘Hello, stranger,’ she said rather tartly.

‘Hiya, how’s it going?’ Jake sounded chirpy. In the background she could hear the boys yelling.

‘Fine. Good. You’ll never guess who I’m—’

‘It’s been a nightmare here,’ Jake interrupted. ‘I
picked the boys up from Mum’s this morning, and drove them home and they fought all the way and then Georgie was sick and now they’re fighting again and I thought you said it was hair wash tonight, but they say not.’

‘It
is
hair wash!’ Rosie was outraged. ‘Little fibbers. They have to have clean hair for nursery tomorrow or Wendy will freak. Anyway, listen, you’ll never guess—’

‘Toby! Don’t do that to your brother. I said
don’t. Don’t!
’ Another heart-piercing yell. Suddenly Rosie was glad to be standing on this sun-drenched balcony. ‘Sorry, they’re trying to kill each other. I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ll be home by lunchtime?’

‘I’ll do my very best.’

‘
Please
, Old Bean. I’ve got to be in rehearsals at two, it would be good to see you before I go.’

Rosie was flattered. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Give the boys a big—’ But the line had gone dead. Rosie went back into the room. It was scorching in there, the fire burning more fiercely than ever. Becki was leaning forward in her armchair, talking intently.

‘So then I said: “Well, if you don’t want her to study ballet, even though she’s clearly extremely talented, that’s fine, go and play golf on Sundays instead.” And he said—’

‘Rosie,’ said Ellie, looking somewhat dazed. ‘Everything OK at home?’

‘Fine. I’m so sorry about your … break-up.’

‘It’s
been stressing me out so much,’ said Ellie, clearly overjoyed at a cue to talk about her life.

Rosie racked her brains, trying to remember what the spa gossip mags had said. ‘I’m sorry. Was it that guy who played the pool boy in series two?’

‘We’d been together ten years,’ Ellie continued. ‘So even though I ended things, it’s still really tough.’

Becki patted her on the shoulder. ‘Beautiful girl like you, you’ll meet someone in no time.’

‘It’s been a long time coming,’ Ellie said. ‘Things haven’t been right for years now. There was this new HBO series that I totally would have got if he’d pushed hard enough, and he didn’t even manage to get me an audition for the new Woody Allen movie.’ She stuck out her little chin with its heart-shaped dimple. ‘I can do better.’

‘Yeah, girl!’ Becki cried.

‘You’re talking about your agent?’ Rosie exclaimed.

Ellie nodded, her chin quivering. ‘No wonder it’s been so hard to do this gig. He’s bad-mouthing me all around LA, saying I’m a bitch and too demanding. He’s saying I only stayed so long in
O’Rourke’s
because I was sleeping with the series creator – I mean, OK, I did once, but that’s not why I stayed, it’s because the public loved Dolores.’

‘So that’s why you’ve been forgetting your lines?’

‘Well, yeah, plus …’

‘Plus
what?’ Rosie asked gently. So
this
was why Ellie had been so hard to work with. Did Jake know about her dad? Maybe then he’d be more sympathetic.

Ellie swallowed. ‘Well, two years ago I made this cute movie called
Watertown
.’

‘Oh God, I loved it – it’s your greatest work.’ Rosie was proud of herself for remembering to say ‘work’. Jake had told her actors adored that word, because it made them feel they deserved their millions simply for falling out of bed and learning a few lines. Ellie smiled, dimples creasing at the corners of her mouth.

‘I think I saw that film,’ Becki said musingly, then cleared her throat, clearly about to launch into a lecture on the pros and cons of
Watertown
.

‘So you made
Watertown
?’ Rosie said encouragingly.

‘Yes—’ But they were interrupted by loud knocking at the door.

‘Come in!’ Ellie shouted.

The door opened and a burly suited man – presumably a bodyguard – stood there, holding out a mobile. ‘Ms Lewis. Mr X is on the phone for you.’

Ellie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh my gosh, he said he wouldn’t call! Ladies,’ she said. ‘I’m really so sorry, but would you mind leaving? I just have to be alone now to talk to … er, someone. Do you mind coming back in half an hour? It really is urgent.’

‘Sure,’ they both said.

‘So
sorry, ladies, so sorry, but it’s an emergency.’ She virtually snatched the phone from the bodyguard, who ushered them out of the room.

They went down to the bar and – why not at this stage? – ordered champagne.

‘I bet there’s some hidden boyfriend,’ Becki mused. ‘God, I can’t wait to tell the girls.’

‘What girls?’

‘You know. All the gang at work.’

‘You mustn’t do that!’ Rosie was horrified. ‘She told us all that in confidence.’

‘I won’t share the juicy details, just give them the gist. And it’ll only be the girls, I’m not going to put it on Facebook or Twitter or anything. I mean … if I wanted to I could probably call the papers and make a few hundred quid with what she’s told us.’

How did Becki know about calling the papers? thought Rosie uneasily, hating herself for this paranoia. Did that explain how obscure photos of Jake had ended up in the
Sunday Sun
or whatever?