Protection (10 page)

And Carmichael didn't help. With Christmas so near, he was busy arranging literally dozens of functions for her to attend and although it was flattering to know that everyone wanted her at their party, she really didn't relish the thought of having to face the usual clutch of mean faced bitches, all sniggering and making snide remarks behind her back at the size of her ample posterior. And she didn't care if Jo-Lo had made a fortune out of the size of her arse, it didn't mean she wanted a bum that looked capable of stopping a truck if she shoved it into its grill.

Sighing, Carrie wandered out into the hallway and into Andrea's bedroom, where Andrea was busy sorting out her laundry.

She pulled a face as Carrie entered. “Please don't tell Amanda you saw me doing this.”She pleaded. “She'll have a fit!”

“Don't worry.”Carrie assured her. “You're secret's safe with me. If sorting laundry is your thing girl, you go for it! I was wondering though, if you could help me out with a little problem?”

Five minutes later, Andrea still couldn't find anything wrong and after watching Carrie turn a full circle with her arms outstretched, she was forced to admit defeat.

“I'm sorry but I can't see what you're on about. Seriously. You look fine! I can't see anything wrong with your bum and at least you have one, I just have a place where my legs end and my back starts.”

“I've obviously got your share then.”Carrie said desolately. “But is there anything you can suggest I do? I really have to get rid of this horrible wobble.”

“In that case.”Andrea sighed. “You'd better lie on the floor.”

Downstairs and putting the finishing touches to a casserole that would simmer all day in a slow cooker, Amanda happily eyed the tiny pile of post. This was more like it. A tiny, little pile she could quickly whip through before settling down to the luxury of being able to drink a whole cup of coffee without it going cold. And the time she saved! It made her shudder to think how much she'd wasted before.

Now, what did they have? An advert for the local pizza place. A circular for a new kind of credit card. Ahh, a letter for Andrea from her mum, and this, a vivid, yellow envelope with a printed address.

Suspicious, Amanda turned it over in her hands. There was no distinguishing logo or return address and no stamp, yet oddly, it seemed familiar and tearing open the envelope, she quickly read the contents before abandoning the kitchen and hurrying up the stairs.

“And this is going to work, is it?”Carrie asked, puffing hard as she followed Andrea's instructions to use her backside as a way of propeling herself across the carpet.

“Trust me.”Andrea said, biting back a smile. “It'll work. I went to keep fit classes for years and the instructor always swore by this one.”

“Whereas I will simply swear if it doesn't work.”

The arrival of Amanda, clutching her chest and waving a yellow sheet of paper in front of her, brought everything to a halt and blushing at having been caught doing something so weird, Carrie scrambled to her feet. But the housekeeper, well used to such strange goings on, barely raised an eyebrow and crossing the room she thrust the letter into Andrea's hand.

“It came this morning.”She said. “Hand delivered.”

Carrie read it over Andrea's shoulder.

‘ I know you've forgotten all about me.' It began. ‘ But I still think about you and I will never forgive what we did together and one day we will meet again and perhaps then you will remember what you have thrown away.'

“Is that it?”Andrea asked, turning the paper over and finding the other side blank. “Where's the envelope?”

Amanda handed it over.

“Weird.”Andrea said, turning to Carrie. “Have you got any idea who this might be from? It does sort of imply you had some sort of relationship with them.”

Carrie shrugged and looked blank.

“How about a fan? Have you had any other letters like this? That sound as though they think you might once have been an item?”

“Not that I know of, but you might be asking the wrong person. Amanda, you were opening the mail until recently. Have you seen anything like this before?”

It came back to her then. The weird letter they'd received a few weeks back, but written on purple paper instead of yellow. The letter she'd thrown away, thinking it too sick to warrant much attention.

“Don't worry about it.”Andrea said when Amanda confessed what she'd done. “You weren't to know. But we'll get the fan club to keep an eye out for them and if we do get any more, we'll hand them over to the police and let the boys in blue handle it, okay?”

A couple of days later, Isobel again rode out to deliver her latest missive. It wasn't a bad day, weather wise, and she was feeling pretty good. Scrumpy, her cat, had finally stopped trying to return to the old flat whenever she let him out, and she'd received a free sample of a new chocolate bar through the post, which was enough to brighten anyone's morning.

Her good mood vanished, however, the moment she rounded the bend.

Parked in front of Carrie's property was a security van and half way up a ladder an engineer was fixing a CCTV camera aimed directly at Carrie's letter box.

Swearing, Isobel stuffed the green envelope quickly out of sight and peddling up to his ladder, she swallowed her anger and hailed him from the ground. “‘Scuse me.”She said. “Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering whether you have the right time? My watch has stopped.”

The engineer nodded and pulling back his sleeve, didn't see Isobel hastily pluck the letter from her pocket and slip it through the brass flap, confident that she wouldn't be caught. The camera, designed to protect, had been as oblivious to her movements as the engineer, the tangle of exposed wires testifing to that, and as she peddled off, she felt sure that if anyone asked the engineer wouldn't remember what she'd looked like or what she'd been wearing. Hundreds of people went cycling in tracksuits every day.

Andrea read the letter in the kitchen, whilst Amanda, shocked to find that despite the newly installed close circuit TV, another livid letter had still managed to find its way into their private mail, busied herself making strong coffee.

‘ Still having trouble?' It read. ‘ Perhaps I should pay a visit to remind you.'

Andrea shoved it back inside the envelope.

“Clearly a person of few words.”She mused, drumming her fingers on the table. “But I can't say I'm overly keen on the ones they do choose.”

Amanda pushed a mug of steaming coffee towards her.

“You don't suppose they could get inside the house, do you?”She asked nervously. “I don't really think they could, but you never know…”

“No! No way!”Andrea said emphatically. “This place has more security systems than Buck house. In fact I'm surprised the letter box wasn't monitored already, but until I can think of another way to have Carrie's personal mail delivered, I suggest we have it sealed up. And please don't worry, Amanda, we are safe here. If I'm honest I'm more concerned about this Christmas party Carrie is thinking about having. Has she said anything to you about it?”

“As far as I know it's definitely happening. I heard Carrie discussing the guest list with Carmichael the other day together with valet parking.”

“Oh, that's just what we need. A load of strangers wandering around! Talk about the perfect opportunity for our local nut to try and sneek in. When's Carmichael due here next?”

Amanda glanced at the clock on the wall. “About an hour? Or sooner if he's managed to smell the coffee pot from wherever he is.”

“In that case, would you mind giving me a shout when he gets here? I think there's one or two things we should have a chat about.”

The fire lit in the lounge, Carrie and Andrea sat before it waiting for Carmichael to finish reading the two letters they had in their possession.

As far as he knew, no more had turned up at the studio.

“That's not to say there haven't been any.”He added. “If no one's been told to keep an eye out for them they might just have been thrown away.”

“Fair enough.”Andrea said. “But I am wondering how seriously we should take them? Trouble is, there's not much to go on. They're computer printed and as far as I can tell, clean of prints, so the chances of catching the writer are slim. So I guess I'm hoping that if Carrie doesn't react, they'll get fed up and give up.”

Both Carrie and Carmichael agreed.

“Okay then, we'll just wait and see. Now, this party you're planning on having Carrie. It's going to be a hell of a job security wise you know.”

“Yes, I do. But I have had parties before and they've been fine. Entry is always by invitation only and we hire loads of additional security.”

“Thugs in dress suits eh? I bet they're choice.”

“They're a little more civilized than that Andrea.”Carmichael cut in. “And as we tend to stick to the same bunch, they know us and we know them. They're discreet, efficient and big enough to deter trouble.”

“Do we have proof of that?”

Carmichael took a deep breath. Why on earth had he ever suggested Carrie needed a bodyguard? She questioned everything he did and everything he said and most of the time not only wanted everything in black and white but preferably in triplicate too. But he had no one else but himself to blame and if it was proof Andrea wanted then it was proof she would have.

“Okay.”He said, clasping his hands together. “Last summer, Carrie threw a party at the studios and we used the same guys then.”

“Yeah.”Carrie groaned. “And what a fiasco that turned out to be!”

“Everything was fine until the end.”Carmichael went on. “Then around midnight these three teenagers turned up at the gates. Pissed as newts and singing rude songs about certain parts of Carrie's anatomy. Well, the bouncers didn't take too kindly to that and asked them to leave, ‘cept instead of buggerin' off like good little boys, the little shits pulled guns. I could see it all from where I was standing, and to be honest I damn near wet myself. But the bouncers didn't even bat an eyelid. They just waded in and ripped the guns right out of their hands! Then they turned them upside down. All kinds of crap fell out of their pockets.”

“What happened then?”

“They stripped the little buggers! Right down to their boxers. You should have seen the look on their faces! They didn't know what the fuck to do. One of them even had a hard on! It was bloody hilarious!”

“But what about the guns? Surely one of them had the chance to fire?”

“They were fake. Seems one of the security guys spotted ‘ Made in China' stamped on the side and it was game over. I think I still have the pictures in my office if you want to take a look.”

“No, it's okay thanks, I'll take your word for it that these guys are good. But will they be enough? I'm not being funny, but Carrie is a hell of a lot more famous than she was a year ago, and the guest list, I imagine, is going to reflect this.”

“You imagine right, but we'll simple hire more guys. Relax, it'll be fine.”

“I'll relax when it's all over and Carrie is safe and sound in bed. You forget, Carmichael, we may have more than just a party to worry about.”

“I agree with Andrea.”Carrie said. “The fruitcake who's sending these letters might see this as the ideal opportunity to say hello in person.”

Funny how the absence of light always made her feel so vulnerable and even though she knew that all she had to do was stretch across, flip a switch and light would flood the room, it still didn't seem enough. She needed pure, natural daylight to truly combat the insecurities that haunted her and lying in bed, every creak and groan of the house startled her.

If only she could have identified her worries, that might have helped, but there was nothing in particular she could put her finger on. The alarm systems were all on and functioning- something Andrea made sure of daily - and the bodyguard herself was only down the hall.

Still...

Maybe she was just lonely. It had been a long time since she'd made room for someone else in this huge, double bed or snuggled up, all safe and cosy inside someone else's arms, the after glow of sex scenting her skin.

The thought made her remember when she'd told Andrea she was gay and a prickle of panic shuddered up her spine. How easy it was to imagine the awful scenario of what might happen if she ever told the press. Photographers outside the gates. The dreadful Belinda Cross on her back, and Carmichael, furiously jumping up and down and demanding to know why she hadn't told him?

She'd really opened a chasm beneath her feet with this, but in truth, she didn't really think she'd fall. Andrea had been as good as her word and so far hadn't said a thing and even if she did decide to spill all, there wasn't much more to tell after the initial revelation that Carrie Shilling was gay. Her love life was a joke.

Fame certainly opened a lot of doors, and in truth most of them advantageous, but the one marked ‘romance' didn't seem to open onto anything more than a gaping hole marked ‘lonely.'

The small click of a lock opening jolted her out of her reverie and staring into the darkness, she thought she heard Andrea roaming the house. What was she doing up at this hour? She worried. Was something wrong?

Slipping out of bed, she pulled on her robe and crept soundlessly across the thick carpet, opening the door to see Andrea disappearing down the stairs.

Silently she followed her and, after padding down the stairs, Carrie glanced briefly into the kitchen - where she thought Andrea might be fetching a glass of water- and seeing she wasn't there moved onto the lounge where she found her kneeling by the fire.

“Couldn't you sleep?”Carrie whispered from the doorway, watching Andrea poke at the dying embers.

“Keep thinking about the party.”Andrea whispered back, unsurprised by Carrie's unexpected arrival. “My mind won't settle. I'm sorry if I disturbed you.”