The Reluctant Celebrity (5 page)

Squeezed
between Terri and her boys in the front of Terri’s van, Jules felt the words of
protest form in her mouth as they trundled, without stopping, past Mrs
Beckwith’s guesthouse.

She
had tried three times throughout the day to postpone her drink with Terri, Dan
and Jason, but each excuse she’d given had been overruled by Terri. 

Seeing
Guy again had drained her confidence. She’d replayed their conversation over
and over in her head, scraping away the wallpaper in her hall with such fury
she’d damaged the plaster underneath more than once.

At 5
o’clock, she’d changed her overalls for the spare jeans; jumper and pumps she
always kept in her car for the times she needed to go out straight from working
on a property and didn’t want to wear her overalls. She may not feel like socialising,
but for once she didn’t feel like being alone either.

Alone
gave her mind a chance to wander. Alone meant thinking about Guy and the
emotions he’d unleashed inside her.

‘Here
we are then Lovey,’ Terri grinned, cutting into Jules’ thoughts. ‘We’ll have a
drink in you in no time.’

Jules
nodded as she slipped her body from the van, pushing thoughts of Guy back to
the deepest depths of her mind as she breathed in the sweet smell of burning
embers drifting from the chimney of The Nag. Sitting in a cosy pub with a large
glass of wine suddenly seemed a lot easier than spending another evening
shivering in the tiny single bed at the guesthouse.  

Stooping
her head, Jules stepped through the low doorway, finding the inside even more
welcoming. A large brick fireplace dominated the interior, complete with a
roaring fire which cast a dancing orange blaze onto the cream walls and dark
beams.

As
if completing the picture, Max lay with his body stretched out as close to the
fires heath as he could get. His ears twitched as they closed the latch on the
heavy pub door, but he made no other signs of giving up his space by the heat.

Dark
wood tables and matching chairs had been dotted throughout the pub without any
apparent pattern to their positioning, but it was clear from the scattering of
people that the main activity focused around the long bar, covering the entire width
of the back wall.

Standing
behind the bar stood Rich, in a chequered red shirt that stretched tight across
his large frame. He slung a bar towel over one broad shoulder as he laughed
with two men sat to one side.

His
height, which had seemed large against the elements the first time Jules had
seen him, now appeared giant next to the old pub’s beams, hanging low from the
ceiling and almost scraping the waves of his blonde hair.

‘Rich,
my favourite landlord,’ Terri called as they weaved their way through the
tables. ‘Get this lovely girl one of your cocktails – she needs it.’

‘No,’
Jules protested as her eyes met his. ‘Um, I mean a glass of wine would be fine
thanks.’

‘Nonsense,’
Terri replied, ‘All new residents must try a cocktail. You’ll thank me for it.
And three ales for me and the boys of course.’

Rich
turned his body towards Jules as if waiting for further protest; instead she
lifted her shoulders into a shrug. ‘I’ve learnt not to argue with Terri,’ she explained.

‘A
cocktail it is then,’ Rich nodded, reaching for a glass. ‘It’s nice to see you
again Jules.’

She smiled
and tried to ignore the feeling of unsettlement which danced in her stomach
whenever he looked at her. 

‘How
is it going up at the house?’ he asked.

‘Fine
thanks.’

She
knew she should say more. She wanted to elaborate; to share Rich’s easy smile
and laugh along with Terri’s good humoured conversation, but the words wouldn’t
come out. Guy’s reappearance had left her feeling raw and vulnerable.

‘Poor
Jules,’ Terri began, hopping onto an empty bar stool and taking a long sip of
the pint Rich placed in front of her. ‘She’s just had a terrible run in with-’

‘The
kitchen window’ Jules cut in quickly. ‘The glass shattered.’

She
stepped forward and slipped her body onto the stool next to Terri’s at the end
of the bar.

‘Well
that, but it was your ex-’

‘Yes’
Jules interrupted for a second time as she caught Terri’s eye, ‘and the ceiling
as well. Things haven’t been going my way.’ She shook her head, hoping Terri
would understand her silent plea. The thought of talking about Guy right now
left her wanting to cry. 

To
her relief, Terri scrunched her face into a slow wink and brushed her fingers
across her mouth as if closing a zip.

‘Here
you go,’ Rich said, placing a tall tulip glass complete with a bright green
umbrella, in front of Jules. ‘Although I feel it’s only fair to warn you that
this is my most lethal cocktail. Grown men have been stripped to blubbering
idiots after drinking this.’

She
looked at the glass in front of her. It looked innocent enough. It looked just
like orange juice.

As
she picked up the glass Jules felt every set of eyes in the place on her. Rich
lent on the bar across from her, the smile never leaving his face. Terri, Dan
and Jason, held their glasses up towards her, and the handful of men at the
other end of the bar had stopped their conversation to watch.

How
bad could it be?  She wondered, putting the glass to her lips and taking a small
sip. It tasted just like orange juice too, with a slight tangy fizz she
couldn’t put her finger on. It didn’t even taste alcoholic. Obviously,
Cottinghale’s idea of lethal was a lot tamer than she was used to, she decided,
brushing Rich’s warning aside.

‘Very
nice, thanks’

It
took Jules another two gulps of cocktail before she felt the relaxing hit of
whatever alcohol lay hidden beneath the zesty tang. The feeling causing a
trickle of peace to worm through the mess of thoughts in her head.

Before
long, Jules found herself leaning against the wall, allowing the gentle hum of
conversation to reverberate through her. As far as she could tell, the main theme
of conversation centred on the weather: what the continued cold spell was doing
to the fields, what the next week would bring, and what it might mean for the
spring ahead.

Everyone
seemed to have an opinion to share. She would need to start paying attention to
the local weather reports if she was going to spend more time in The Nag,
something Jules suddenly liked the idea of.

As
more people entered the bar they greeted Jules as if she was a long lost
relative. Rich, never far from her side, introduced the array of locals; their
names vanishing from her memory within seconds.

‘Another
one?’ Rich asked after returning from a trip to the kitchen.   

Jules
dropped her gaze to her glass preparing to shake her head, but to her surprise it
was empty.

Thanks.’
She felt a warm glow coarse through her, and before she could do anything to
stop it, a loud hiccup escaped her mouth.

Jules
darted her eye towards Terri, still lost in conversation about the weather, and
Rich, who had turned his back to the bar as he fixed her drink. Nobody had
heard her embarrassing outburst.

‘Err
Rich?’

‘Yep,’
he answered, keeping his back to Jules as he prepared her drink.

‘What
exactly is in your concoction?’

He
spun around with a grin. ‘My cocktail you mean. I’d tell you but then I’d have
to kill you.’

She
felt a smile cross her face as she swallowed down another hiccup.

‘Terri,
Dan, Jason,’ Jules nodded to their glasses, ‘another one?’

‘We
won’t say no, will we boys?’

‘Nope,’
they chorused.

Jules
reached into her jacket pocket for her purse. She felt the scrap of paper brush
against her fingers, but the cocktail had clouded her mind and for the briefest
of moments she forgot the danger lurking at her touch as she pulled out her
purse.

It
was too late. Before she could do anything to stop it, the balled up piece of newspaper
fluttered to the floor, the movement destroying her warm glow with a sobering
jolt.   

‘Did
you drop this Lovey?’ Terri asked unravelling the newspaper article Guy had
showed her that morning.

‘It’s
nothing,’ she spluttered.

‘Holy
Moly, is that you?’

‘Unfortunately
yes,’ she mumbled, dropping her face into her hands.

‘You
look...so-’

‘I
know, my fashion sense was a little questionable,’ Jules replied with a weak
laugh, hoping in vain that an attempt at humour would distract Terri from going
further.

‘No,
I mean yes, but it’s your face, you look so...so... oh I can’t explain it.’

‘This
is very cool’ Dan chipped in from over Terri’s shoulder.

Jules
shrugged, hiding her discomfort in a long sip of the fresh cocktail Rich had
placed in front of her.

Rich
lent over the pumps, his blue eyes moving first over the photograph and then
back at Jules. ‘You do look different.’

‘Yeah
well, it was a long time ago,’ she replied a lot louder than she’d intended and
avoiding his gaze.

A
voice inside her shouted at her to leave. To run back to the bed and breakfast
and hide away, but she couldn’t leave. Her aching legs felt like jelly.

‘This
is unbelievable’ Terri laughed, reading the article and turning her attention
back to Jules. ‘I mean, it’s really unbelievable. I...I just can’t believe it.
How exciting.’

‘Exciting?’
Jules responded in disbelief. 

‘Well
yes, I mean, Guy Rawson, he’s really famous.’

‘So? 
He’s also a total bastard, launching this...this ridiculous thing.’

‘Oh,
I see.’ Terri paused for a minute, looking back at the article. ‘But it says
here he loves you.’

‘The
only thing Guy loves is himself,’ she replied, wishing her voice would stop
echoing around the pub.

‘You
know,’ Rich began, sliding the scrap of newspaper back to Jules, ‘If you hate
it so much I’m pretty sure you could get an injunction or something and stop
them printing anything else.’

‘No,’
Jules replied, shaking her head. ‘Anything I do will be playing straight into
his hands.’

She took
another gulp from her glass. The sticky taste of the orange was beginning to
churn in her empty stomach.

‘Let’s
forget it, okay? It’s nothing really.’ Her eyes darted between Rich, Terri, Dan
and Jason. From the expressions on their faces it seemed the only person
convinced by her comment was her. ‘Seriously guys, no one is going to remember
this story tomorrow. It’s over.’

‘Sure,’
Rich nodded.

‘Oh,
of course Lovey,’ Terri chirped.

‘Thanks.
Now, Terri,’ she began in a final bid to change the subject. ‘You haven’t told
me how you got into the building trade?’

‘Well,
that would be all down to my ex-husband you see. He was the builder really, not
me. But like I said he ran off with Dawn from the post office, leaving me with
a business in depth and two boys barely out of nappies. So when someone called
in search of a decorator, I thought why not, I can do that.’

‘I
put myself through a few trade courses and haven’t said no to a job yet. Of
course, if my boys –‘

Jules
let Terri’s voice wash over her as she slipped the scrap of newspaper back into
her pocket and finished off the contents of her glass.  

‘You
okay?’ Rich whispered as he lent towards her. His body so close she found
herself breathing in the scent of his aftershave. 

She nodded,
unable to disguise another hiccup from escaping.

‘I’ll
get you some water.’

Leaning
her head back against the wall, Jules took a long intake of air, feeling the
dizzying effect of the alcohol she’d consumed. It felt good. Her thoughts merged
into a single blur. She didn’t care about Guy. She didn’t care about
The
Daily
. All she cared about was maintaining this feeling for a little while
longer. 

 ‘And
a glass of dry white please,’ she called out to Rich.

Maybe
all she needed was a distraction, she thought. Something that would keep Guy
out of her thoughts, something fun. Jules let her gaze follow Rich’s body as he
moved easily around the bar, biting back another hiccup as he stepped back
towards her. 

Who, who sees you baby?

How
long had he been sitting there, watching the people and their cars go by? The
scorching tea he’d purchased now sat tepid and untouched in its wallowing
cardboard cup.

The
sticky icing of the untouched Danish Swirl had begun to congeal. Although Guy
had a hunch that stale food and dishwater tea were compulsory components of all
roadside services.

He
reached into the grey Armani jacket Giorgio had given him on the shoot in Japan
less than a year ago, a night he’d prefer to forget. His fingers fumbling for
the tattered notebook and pencil, as he hurried to scribble down the lyrics
before they evaporated from his consciousness.

What
the hell had he been doing for the past couple of days? Guy wondered. What had
possessed him to drive across the country and track down someone he hadn’t seen
or spoken to for five years?

He
heard Debbie’s voice in his head: ‘You’re Selfish’

But
look what happened the minute he did something selfless, he argued back to
himself. Juliet hadn’t even been grateful for his advice, let alone pleased to
see him. He could hardly be blamed for the paper’s decision to make a story out
of one offhand comment.

An
image of Debbie shaking her head floated before him. The scraping led of his
blunt pencil blotted her out.

What,
what happened to the girl?

What, what happened to you baby?

For
a single second she had looked happy. For a single second the same girl, who
had loved him with every bit of her heart, and told him so every day, had stood
before him. The same girl he’d promised never to leave, and the one he’d been
thinking about every day since.         

More
than just thinking about, a voice echoed from somewhere deep inside his mind.
In that first moment the time between them had disappeared. The feelings he’d
shared with the journalist had reared out of nowhere, crashing in his head like
two brass symbols.     

Then
the moment had vanished and reality had hit him. The pixie blonde with a smile
that reached to the edges of her face, and the craziest clothes he’d ever seen
had changed. That first split second had been a terrible trick of the mind, disappearing
at the same rate as his resolve. 

After
that first second had past, Guy had looked at the woman in front of him. Her
slim frame hidden behind dark overalls; her long brown hair tied back. Even the
set of her face seemed different somehow.

If
it hadn’t been for the startling green of the doe-eyed stare he remembered so
well, he might have believed that an imposter had taken over her body.

The
Juliet he had known would never have laughed at him with a sound so hollow it
chilled him to the bone.

She
had changed almost beyond recognition, but why?

The
question surprised him. He had a feeling he knew the answer, but before he allowed
his thoughts to travel further towards it; the pencil in his hand began moving
again. 

Where,
where did you go?

Where,
where are you now?

If I could win back the years, I would stop the tears

‘Years
too late.’ She had thrown the words at him like a dagger.

Guy
felt a stab of guilt twist in his gut. He had made so many mistakes. Had he
really thought seeing her again could undo anything?
Juliet had moved
on, she couldn’t have made that clearer to him. She had done more than just put
the past behind her; she had buried it twelve feet under. So why did he feel so
hell bent on digging it up again?

It’s
not like he didn’t have his own life to lead. A successful life at that. His
first single at number one; an album ready to be released; a sell out UK tour
lined up for the summer; not to mention a string of endorsement offers from
people who finally wanted more than just his face on a magazine cover.

As
if in agreement, his mobile vibrated from the passenger seat next to him. The
name of his publicist flashing up at him.   

‘Hey
Sonja.’

‘Guy,
where have you been?’ Sonja’s shrill voice jumped from the phone.

He
moved his hand, widening the gap between his ear and his mobile.

I’ve
been looking for you for ages.’

‘Really?
Why?’ he asked

‘I’m
outside your flat ringing the doorbell.’ As if to prove it, Guy heard the
familiar buzzer of his North London flat. ‘We scheduled a meeting last week,
remember?’

‘Shit,
sorry Sonja I totally forgot. I had some personal stuff to sort out; I’ll be
back in an hour. Can you hang on?’

‘Personal
stuff? Guy, are you keeping something from me?’ she quizzed in a soft purr.  

‘Nothing
for you to worry about,’ Guy replied, cursing himself for saying too much.

Sonja
had the uncanny knack of dragging every last piece of information out about
someone and finding a way to twist it into sales figures. An amazing talent,
but not one he needed at that particular moment in time.

‘I
won’t be long,’ he added. ‘There’s a good pub on the corner called The Engine.
Get a drink and I’ll join you soon.’

‘I
hope you’re not trying to sweet talk me into dinner Guy,’ she said, her tone conveying
the opposite of her words.

‘Dinner?’
Guy’s stomach growled its agreement. Had he mentioned dinner?

‘I
have a surprise for you,’ she continued, ignoring him. ‘We can discuss it
tonight, but let me just whisper the words
Radio One’s Live Lounge
to
you.’

‘Really?
They want me? That’s amazing.’

‘Better
get here soon Guy before I give the slot to one of my other clients. One who
doesn’t forget our meetings.’

‘I’m
on my way.’

Guy’s
hand reached for the ignition as he threw his mobile onto the passenger seat.

Live
Lounge
would be a great set. A real sign he’d broken away from
modelling and been accepted into the music industry, and he had Sonja to thank
for it. She might be a bit of a ball ache at times, but she’d earned her salary
three times over, and did it without breaking a nail on her perfectly manicured
hands.

It
was a shame she wasn’t his type, because he was sure she had a thing for him.
He could tell by the way she looked at him. It reminded him of a tiger getting
ready to pounce. A beautiful redheaded tiger, but a predator none the less.

Maybe
she could be his type? He wondered to himself as he accelerated out of the
motorway services. He needed to get Juliet out of his head, he decided. And how
better than with a good-looking woman?

The
memory of Japan flashed in front of his eyes; a warning from his unconscious,
Guy thought. The elfin blonde model with pale skin so soft it had filled him
with instant desire. And yet something had gone very wrong. He could still hear
her callous laugh, just like Juliet’s had been earlier, or Jules, he corrected
himself.

 It
was time to stop looking back. Forget Juliet once and for all, like she’d
forgotten him. Forget the model in Japan. One time, that’s all it had been, he
reminded himself, moving the Jaguar into the outside lane as he sped home.

Time
to get back in the game, Guy told himself, pushing aside the memory of Juliet’s
emerald eyes glistening with anger and the feelings it had stirred in him.