The Ivy Lessons (24 page)

‘Is Marc a nice person to work for?’ I ask.

‘The best employer I’ve ever had,’ says Rodney. ‘The kindest and most generous. And he’s never, ever made me feel like his inferior. We’re equals. You’d have to go a long way in London to find someone who thinks like that. I guess it’s because he grew up without all this.’ H
e waves his
hand around.

‘He did?’ I ask, taking a sip of coffee. ‘The way he is, I always sort of thought he’d always been rich.’

‘Not at all,’ says Rodney. ‘All his money, he earned himself. He grew up in a normal terraced house
in London
.’

‘Really?’ I put my elbows on the breakfast bar, intrigued.

Rodney nods. ‘His mother died when he was very young, poor thing. He idolises her. And then when she passed away, his father took him and his sister to America. He’d already seen Marc’s talent for acting, and thought he could make him a superstar.’

‘Poor Marc.’ I shake my head. ‘My mother died when I was young too.’ I wonder for a moment if that’s why Marc
feels a connection to
me. ‘It’s hard. You envy the other children
, growing up
. There’s always a part of you that feels missing. And for me, I had to look after my father too – he went through some dark times after Mum died.’

Rodney
nods, pouring him
self a cup of coffee. ‘That must have been hard.’

‘I don’t really see it that way,’ I say. ‘Really, I feel tremendously lucky. I have a father who loves me and who made it through a really bad depression. He’s got a new girlfriend
now and he’s happy. I have a best friend who’s like a sister to me, and her mum was always taking care of me when I was younger, giving me good advice, buying me girly stuff.’

‘How do you get on with your dad’s new girlfriend?’ Rodney asks.

I think about that. ‘I don’t think she likes me being around much, except to
clean and
look after the new baby.’

‘New baby?’

‘My dad and his new girlfriend
had a baby. Samuel. He’s gorgeous. Six months old.’

Rodney smiles. ‘Mine are all grown up now, but I remember that age. They’re lovely, aren’t they?’

I nod and take out my phone. ‘Here he is.’ I show him the hundreds of pictures I have of Samuel, smiling, looking serious, chewing things.

‘How did you meet Marc?’ Rodney asks.

‘I ... I’m on his course at Ivy College.’

‘You’re his student?’

I nod, looking at my coffee.

Rose doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks volumes. Eventually he says, ‘Well, I’d better go start on the bathrooms.’

In the silence of the kitchen, I sip coffee and think. Rodney clearly loves Marc, but his
reaction to me being Marc’s
pupil was perfectly normal. In fact, he’d probably be more understanding than most. So what chance do we have? Even if Marc does soften – even if I manage to soften him – everyone will judge us, and for good reason. It’s not a normal way to start a relationship.

I look ou
t at
Marc’s garden through the patio doors. It’s overgrown, covered in ivy. It’s been left to go wild, and needs to be arranged better. I’m itching to go outside and start tending to it, but when I try the patio door it
’
s locked.

Suddenly I feel out of place. A stranger in this huge house. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave without the paparazzi seeing me.

‘Rodney,’ I call up the stairs. ‘How should I leave?’

He comes to the top of the sweeping staircase. ‘The press have all gone now,’ says Rodney. ‘They never stay outside if Marc has just left. They know he won’t be back all day.’

‘So I just walk out the front door?’ I ask.

‘No,’ he says. ‘Marc has left his driver for you. He’s waiting in the garage. He’ll take you wherever you want to go. Marc had an idea you might want to see your family today.’

‘He did?’

Rodney nods. ‘Do you know your way to the garage?’

‘Yes,’ I say, heading around the staircase. ‘Thank you.’

Chapter
52

In the garage, the limo is waiting. I knock on the driver window, and see a cheerful-looking grey-haired man in a peaked cap.

‘Sophia?’ He rolls down the window, and I hear radio two announcing the traffic news. ‘Where would you like to go today?’

‘Home,’ I say. ‘Back to my village. I’d like to see my dad and baby brother.’

‘And where’s home?’

‘Halstead. Essex.’

‘Not too far then. Hop in. Let’s get going.’ He gets out of the car and opens the back door.

‘Do you mind if I sit in the front with you?’ I ask. ‘I’ll feel lost in the back on my own.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ says the driver, his face crinkling. ‘I’d love a bit of company.’ He holds out his hand. ‘I’m Keith. Nice to meet any friends of Marc.’ He runs around to the passenger side and opens the door for me. ‘Hop in.’

The drive back home is quicker than I expect, and most
ly
made up of motorways and electricity pylons, with a brief drive through the Dartford tunnel.

Keith and I talk the whole way. He’s been employed by Marc for nearly ten years. Marc’s a very loyal employer, apparently. He likes to have the same people around him. Keith has watched Marc go fro
m a teen heartthrob to an Oscar-
winning movie star, and the whole time Marc paid Keith
all year round, even when
he was
in LA
.

I ask
about Marc
’s girlfriends, and Keith gives
me a knowing smile. ‘Oh, you want to know about his love life, do you?’

‘Maybe,’ I say.

‘Well, there’s never been anyone serious,’ says Keith. ‘Not in the time I’ve known him. He has flings, but no one stays the night. You’re the first.’ He gives me a sideways glance and a smile.

‘I am?’ My heart glows. It’s not much, but it’s something. Something to lift my mood after Marc’s sudden, cold exit this morning.

‘Yes,’ says Keith, pulling onto a country road that leads to my village. As usual, there’s a tractor bumping along and we get stuck behind it
, moving at ten
miles an hour.

Keith honks his horn, and the tractor pulls over and lets us past.

We drive onto the village high street, and down the back roads that lead to my family home. Everyone turns to stare at the car – it’s a very unusual sight in this part of the world.

I ring Jen to see if she can get free from work for a
n
hour and come over to my dad’s place, but she can’t. I tell her it’s fine, and that I’ll try and give more notice next time.

When we arrive
outside Dad’s cottage, it feels extremely strange to be pulling up
in such a fancy car
.

My dad’s girlfriend, Genoveva, comes to the door with Samuel in her arms. She looks exhausted, and Samuel is crying, but she’s not so exhausted that her eyes don’t widen when she sees the car.

When I step out, I think her eyes are going to pop out of her head.

‘Sophia!’ she says. ‘What on earth is going on?’

‘I came
to see you and D
ad, and Sam,’ I say, going to Samuel and giving him a kiss on the head. Sam
reaches out
for a cuddle.

Keith calls out: ‘I’ll come pick you up in a few hours and take you back to your college. Until then, I’ll make myself scarce.’

‘Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?’ I ask.

‘No, no. You’ve got a family reunion. I wouldn’t want to interfere.’ He drives away.

Genoveva holds Samuel close to her, and I can see he’s grown, even in the short time I’ve been away.

‘Well I must admit we’ve missed you around here,’ says Genoveva. ‘Your father has been talking about you non-stop. I’m utterly exhausted. I was expecting you back last weekend. I had a hair appointment booked. I had to cancel it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I wanted to come back, but Dad insisted I stay put, and I was glad to, really. There was a lot of settling in to do.’

‘So I see,’ she says, watching the retreating limo.

‘I’ll try to come back at least every other weekend,’ I say. ‘I miss you all. Can I hold Samuel?’

Genoveva holds out the baby, and I take him and kiss him all over his blonde head.

‘Sams! You got big, didn’t you? You’ve grown.’

He clings to me.

‘Will you help me do his washing?’ says Genoveva, running a hand through her long caramel-coloured hair. ‘He’s got nothing left to wear. I don’t know where to start. It’s all built up since you left. And we’re nearly out of milk. Your dad tries but ...’

‘I know.’ I smile. ‘He’s a domestic nightmare. Don’t let him near anything, he’ll make twice as much work for you. I figured that out years ago.’

I walk in
to
the house, bobbing Samuel on my hip. It’s an absolute bombsite inside. A tower of washing up in the sink, piles laundry on and around the washing machine, Samuel’s toys all over the floor. A fly buzzes ar
ound the dishes, and three tied-
up rubbish bags sit by the bin. I can tell by the smell that at least one of them is full of Samuel’s nappies.

‘Here.’ I pass Samuel to Genoveva and he gives a little whimper. I pick up the rubbish and run it outside to the wheelie bin.
Then
I start putting away plates from the draining board, but half of them are covered in dried food. They’ll have to be washed again.

I take all the washing out of the machine, frowning as I see some of it has shrunk or been damaged at the high temperature it
’
s been washed at. The washing smells of mould, so I put it straight back in again with a mould removing tablet and set about doing the washing up.

Samuel crawls up to me and starts tugging at my leg. Genoveva collapses on the sofa, complaining of a headache. It’s like I nev
er left, and in a weird way I’m
glad I’m still needed.

An hour later, I’ve done all the washing up, made Genoveva a cup of tea and started tidying the living room, when Dad walks in.

‘Love!’ Dad watches me with amazement. ‘This is a nice surprise.
Don’t you have classes?’

‘It’s a study day,’ I say.’

‘
Sit down, sit down, don’t feel you have to tidy the place when you’re here.’

‘Oh, it’s no bother,’ I say.

‘Look at you! Got this amazing scholarship in London, and the first thing you do is come back and start tidying. Sit down, I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

Dad can’t make a cup of tea to save his life. In fact, I’m fairly certain at one time I got mild food poisoning from a cup of tea he gave me.

‘It’s fine,’ I say with a smile. ‘Sit down, I’ll do it.’

‘Always running round after other people,’ says Dad, giving my hair a ruffle. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been missed around here.’

On the sofa, I see Genoveva’s lips go thin. ‘You know how hard things are for me with my headaches.’

‘I know,’ says Dad. ‘It’s just nice to have her back, that’s all.’

We sit down in the living area, and I pull Samuel onto my lap and sing him a song.

‘So, tell us about college,’ says Dad.

‘It’s ... very different,’ I say.

‘Made any friends yet?’

‘A few,’ I say. ‘There’s all sorts of different people there.’

‘What are your teachers like?’

I hesitate. ‘Good.’ I say. ‘The lady who teaches us singing is a really lovely woman.’

‘What about
Marc
Blackwell?’ says Genoveva, leaning forward.

‘Yes, what’s he like?’ Dad asks.

‘He’s an amazing actor,’ I say. ‘And ... a very interesting person. I’m still not sure what to make of him yet. The jury is still out.’

‘Right, of course,’ says Dad. ‘He seems a bit on the stuck up side when you read about him, but is he better in person?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘A little.’

Sam comes and sits on my lap, and Dad and I drink tea and catch up. One of the village bus services has stopped, apparently, which is bad news for local teenagers. And the post office got raided a couple of days ago.

After an hour or so, a car horn sounds outside and I realise Keith is waiting on the driveway.

‘I should get going,’ I say. ‘I need to be get back to campus.’

Chapter
53

On the drive back
, I check my mobile phone incessantly for messages from
Marc
. There are none. I think about the coldness of his exit this morning, and feel an aching in my heart. What if it’s all over? What if I really crossed the line, and now I’ll never see him again?

When I get back to my bedroom,
I toy with the idea of texting him.