Authors: Giovanna Fletcher
‘I guess …’ he frowns. ‘It’s so bare, though. So empty. I thought I’d feel something there, but I don’t.’
‘Oh,’ I say sadly, again wishing his answer had been a little different.
‘As with the grave, she’s not there.’
‘Right,’ I nod, pensively.
‘She’s here, though. I felt it as soon as I walked through the doors,’ he says, looking around the room. ‘If I want to be closer to her I’ll have to come in here.’
‘Well, you’re more than welcome here as much as you like,’ I tell him.
‘Thank you,’ he smiles in response, before exhaling loudly and fondly looking around the shop once more. ‘So how’s it been with this place?’
‘Great,’ I exclaim proudly. ‘Challenging, obviously. I’ve never run a business before, but I think I’m coping.’
‘It’s a place you know better than anyone else, so perhaps give yourself a bit of credit,’ he says, holding eye contact with me while briefly touching my arm. It’s a fleeting gesture, just a moment before he breaks away and reaches back for his cup. ‘Have you got someone in helping you?’
‘Well, Billy was here,’ I say, his comment having caused an unexpected sense of pride to swirl around in my chest.
‘Billy?’ he asks, looking confused.
‘My boyfriend.’
‘Of course. Sorry. The actor,’ he says, clicking his fingers as he remembers the information. No doubt Molly had told him all about our situation dozens of times on the phone.
‘Yes, that’s right. He was helping out but I’ve now got my first bona-fide member of staff,’ I say, raising my eyebrows smugly as I nibble on a bit more yellow sponge.
‘Wow, that’s really something.’
‘It is,’ I nod, enjoying his reaction. ‘I’ve introduced a
proper afternoon tea package, too. It seems to be going down a treat. I’m enjoying experimenting to see what works, like me and Molly used to do with our recipes … I’m still missing a Saturday girl, but I’ll cope as long as my mum and her partner keep generously lending a hand during the busy hours.’
‘Well, I can always help out if you like?’
‘Really?’ I say, trying my best not to laugh, which turns into me choking on a piece of cake that I accidentally suck down my windpipe. ‘Sorry,’ I say, once I’ve recovered. ‘But you don’t need to do that.’
‘I can handle serving cake and tea one day a week,’ Peter frowns.
‘Thank you for the lovely offer, but we’re coping at the moment.’
‘Fair enough. The offer’s there if you find you’re stuck, though,’ he says, raising his hands as though sacrificing himself. ‘I’m only around the corner and I think it would actually be quite nice being here, doing what Mum used to do.’
‘Well, I’ll let you know, then,’ I say, remembering what he said earlier about Molly being a part of the place.
‘Great,’ he says, as though it’s a prospect he’s really looking forward to.
‘I’m away for a week from Saturday actually,’ I blurt, without thinking.
‘Need me to cover?’
‘Well, maybe … perhaps,’ I say, feeling cheeky as I say it. ‘I’ll give Rachel your number just in case. If that’s OK?’
‘More than OK,’ he says, his face kind and friendly. ‘Are you going anywhere nice?’
‘LA. To see Billy.’
‘Lucky …’ he says, before trailing off. ‘Well, thanks for the tea and cake,’ he adds, standing and putting a coat over his suit jacket.
‘It was nothing.’
‘I promise I’ll be back soon. Oh and here, take this.’
He puts his hand in his wallet and takes out a business card.
The tips of my fingers touch the inside of his warm palm as I take it from him, making my neck, cheeks and ears instantly and unexpectedly flame up.
‘For when you want me to be your new Saturday girl,’ he laughs, making to leave before turning to face me once more. ‘Obviously you know the telephone number at the house, but that’s got my mobile number on it. Just in case.’
‘Thank you,’ I smile, knowing that Molly’s old landline number is, as he thought, perfectly drilled into my memory.
‘Oh, and I’ll be sure to keep this weekend free.’
‘Great,’ I smile, standing up to see him out. ‘Take care.’
‘You too, Sophie,’ he calls, turning his back to me while waving his hand in the air and walking outside into the darkness of the late afternoon. ‘Don’t have too much fun in LA. See you when you get back.’
‘Bye,’ I sing.
I follow him to the door and flip the open sign to closed. Without thinking I find myself watching Peter bob his way down the hill, stopping to say hello to other shop owners along the way, all of whom know him from when he was younger and look delighted to see him again.
How wonderful to be part of a village community like ours where you can go away for months, or even years, and still feel so embraced by everyone when you come back. The thought makes me smile as I turn and get ready to go home.
Billy
doesn’t have a chance to pen a letter back to me before I fly over there because by the time I get on the plane he still hasn’t received mine. Seriously, I know it’s romantic and wonderful to have something tangible from each other, but occasionally the time spent waiting for a piece of flimsy paper to travel halfway across the globe is incredibly infuriating. I’m starting to question how any of the beloved characters in my favourite novels managed to hold on to their sanity waiting for a love interest to get in touch. I’ve always thought I was an incredibly patient person, but it turns out I’m not. Not really.
Then again, I know there are many more ways to stay in touch thanks to modern technology, but they also require you both to be available and not running a busy shop, filming intricate fight scenes on set or sleeping, thanks to your exhaustingly long days. So, believe it or not, those little letters have stopped me pulling my hair out at times.
Still, I’m relieved that we’ll both be spending a whole week in the same time zone again – and in the same bed, too.
When I giddily arrive in LAX (having rather enjoyed myself on the flight this time – I guess it’s something I’m getting more used to), Lauren is waiting for me, her hair scruffily tied back in a high bun and her lips redder than
ever. However, this time she’s slightly more covered up. There’s not a bikini in sight, instead she’s in jeans, a red t-shirt, black hoodie and leopard-print slipper loafers.
‘Surprise!’ she grins, throwing her arms around me and hugging me tightly. ‘I’m so happy you’re back!’
‘So am I,’ I smile, although my mind’s already worrying whether the clothes I’ve brought will be warm enough (Lauren was never this covered up last time I was here), and also wondering why Billy hasn’t come to meet me in person.
‘Didn’t he tell you?’ she asks, pulling back and looking at my face as she picks up on my thoughts (and possibly senses my disappointment).
I won’t lie, I was looking forward to a little airport reunion. Nothing that would capture the attention of other travellers, obviously, but simply that romantic first glimpse of him as the crowd between us parted. Watching his face light up as our eyes met, and feeling my heart lighten at the mere sight of his smile … That would have been delicious. It’s fair to say that being greeted by Lauren doesn’t quite conjure up the same emotional tug.
‘What’s that?’ I ask her, trying not to sound glum and to just be happy that my second-favourite Buskin is here and so clearly pleased to see me.
‘Billy. Obviously you weren’t expecting to see me.’
‘Well, no,’ I admit, my cheeks blushing at her correctness. ‘But it’s a lovely surprise.’ I smile, not wanting to offend her. It’s sweet that she’s come and James the driver hasn’t just been sent for me instead.
‘Well, he did leave in a hurry this morning, I guess,’ she frowns, as though annoyed for me.
‘Maybe my texts haven’t come through yet,’ I say, rummaging through my bag to locate my phone, but finding there’s nothing from Billy. Just a goodnight message from Mum and one from a new US network service provider telling me about my tariff.
‘Oh well! He was meant to have today and tomorrow off but got called into a meeting last minute. So I’m picking you up and taking you home. He might even be back by the time we get there. Hopefully.’
‘Oh great,’ I say, remembering the unpredictability of Billy’s job and how plans can change quickly.
‘To be honest, it’s probably best I’m here anyway. You don’t want the paps working their magic to fabricate a story out of nothing every time you arrive or leave. Plus, it’s hardly the most glamorous photoshoot location, is it? The lighting is hideous. Shall we?’ she smirks, already heading off towards the car park. It might not be Billy greeting me, but Lauren’s mannerisms and confidence manage to put a smile on my face nonetheless. ‘James has headed off with Billy so you’ll have to put up with my driving. Don’t worry, now that big brother of mine is back I’ve been having lots of practice at chauffeuring myself around,’ she grins.
And she’s right, she’s not too bad – even if she does talk nonstop the whole way and look at me a bit too much rather than keeping her eyes on the road. It’s great to have the lowdown on what’s been going on there. The twins have been going to every celebrity bash possible now that the Buskin name is back in the limelight and the invites have been flooding in, Julie has remained serene and ‘less of a bitch’ while Billy’s been there, and their little brother
Jay visited from New York for a few days, much to her delight. But the biggest news is that she’s got herself a job as an intern at a fashion magazine. It’s unpaid, the hours are atrocious and her boss sounds like a total dragon – but other than that it’s wonderful, she tells me with a laugh. I assume the change of pace to her days is also what’s caused the change in her attire. Gone are the days of sitting by the pool in her bikini, now she’s on call twenty-four seven waiting for her boss to phone with an emergency. Funny to think of her running around after someone, but she insists it’s all part of working her way up the ladder and seems incredibly happy at finding herself a job and giving her days some sort of meaning. A feeling I can relate to and fully understand the importance of. Plus, it’s hardly surprising that things are less tense at home now that she’s given herself a purpose and is juggling her own set of responsibilities. It would probably do them all good to do the same. It’s interesting that the two younger Buskins have chosen to break away from hanging off Billy’s coat-tails and are now flourishing as they strive to give some meaning to their lives. Bizarrely, I find myself feeling proud of the choices Lauren has made since I last saw her; there’s no denying how much she’s matured.
As soon as I arrive at the house, Julie and Clive engulf me in their overly familiar hugs with Julie leading the interrogation on how the past couple of months have been back in England. It actually feels lovely to be reunited with them both, and I’m happy to discover I feel nothing but warmth in their company.
That said, I welcome the tranquillity of Billy’s room when I eventually walk in and dump my hand luggage on
his bed (Dee snatched my case out of the boot before I’d even taken off my seatbelt). As it lands, I hear a crumpling of paper underneath and find my last note to Billy, which must have arrived that morning. Well, at least it got here, I reason. Thankfully, nothing’s gone missing in the post so far. That would be a heartbreaking disaster.
I pick it up and read a few of my own words excitedly talking about Peter’s return as I take it to Billy’s bedside table, where I find the complete collection of letters from me and Charlotte. I run my hands over them. It’s been just over a month since Billy flew back over here and already he has a sizeable wodge of our written thoughts. It’s so lovely to think he sleeps with them close by, just like I do at home.
As Billy’s not arrived back yet I make the most of being alone and nip into the shower so that I know I’ll smell nice and fresh when he gets here, and not of stale plane air.
Ten minutes later, in a brilliantly clean The White Company dressing gown, I walk out of the bathroom to find Billy on a sofa at the window looking over a script and talking to himself. He’s clearly learning lines.
Sensing me in the room, he looks up. As our eyes meet my insides melt – a sensation I’m pleased to feel after being apart for so long.
‘There she is,’ he beams, chucking the script on the floor by his side and striding over to me.
‘God, I’ve missed you,’ I say as he places his hands on my waist and lifts me into his arms, making me feel as light as a feather. I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him closely, wanting him to understand just how much I’ve been craving this moment. No matter how
difficult the distance between us has been so far, this closeness makes it all disappear.
‘It’s so good to have you here,’ he breathes, his luscious brown eyes locking on to my own and holding my gaze, as though he’s searching them for something.
‘What?’ I whisper.
‘Nothing,’ he says, looking down at my lips.
He kisses me then. Softly at first, breathing me in as his hands slowly glide along my back.
Quickly, the kissing intensifies and becomes passionately electric. My gown is discarded on the floor. His t-shirt is wrenched over his head and thrown aside. His belt unbuckled. His underwear pulled down.
Billy pushes my naked backside against the wall and runs his fingers along my bare chest, kissing my neck and making me groan.
I grab hold of one of his butt cheeks and pull his body towards mine.
He complies.
My head explodes with joy and satisfaction at being reunited with Billy.
My Billy.
‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you landed,’ Billy says later on, while running his fingers through the front of my hair – it was wet when I got out of the shower and has since dried. God knows what sort of state it’s in now. I imagine it’s wavy with plenty of frizz added in for good measure.
We’re both still naked, but have found our way into Billy’s bed. Our limbs are wrapped and knotted together,
comfortably draped over each other. I feel utterly exhausted, but incredibly happy.
‘My heart sank when I walked into Arrivals and didn’t see you … I just wish you’d told me,’ I reply honestly.
Seeing as I’ve been here a few hours already and no text or voicemail has made its way through to my phone, it’s clear he hadn’t actually got around to letting me know about the change of plans. Which wasn’t very thoughtful of him.
‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I got a call from the studio first thing and then your letter arrived … the morning just sort of disappeared,’ he shrugs.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say quickly, not wanting to create an atmosphere. There’s clearly a rational part of me that knows these things happen thanks to his unpredictable working hours, and that there’s little he can do to change that.
‘I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend though.’
‘Hurrah,’ I say, turning and giving him a kiss, before snuggling back into his chest and enjoying the warmth of his body.
‘Anything you want to do while you’re here?’
‘Nope. I’d be happy to spend the whole time in this bed with you,’ I tease.
‘Now wouldn’t that be amazing,’ he groans, running his fingertips gently along my side and making me giggle.
‘How unlikely is it?’ I ask, finding myself pouting like a little girl. I know the next thirty-six hours or so are all ours, but I greedily want more, knowing I’ll be leaving him again next Saturday. ‘Is next week jam-packed?’
‘Yep. But you can come on set with me and hang out,’ he suggests.
‘I think I’d rather not. It’s work. You’ll be busy,’ I shrug suddenly. My mood instantly changes, something that makes me feel stupid and childish, but I can’t help it.
‘Are you mentally scarred from the last time?’ he asks softly, picking up on the slight edge to my voice that I wish I’d been able to hide a little better.
I take a deep breath at the thought. The last time I ventured on to a movie set was a total disaster. Billy had been shooting this film about a legendary rocker for a few weeks and it was finally time to capture the saucier moments in the script. I told him and myself that I was totally fine with the whole thing and that I understood it was simply part of his job. Billy even went out of his way to make me feel better by organizing for me to be on the set during filming so that I could see how mechanical it all was, even though all unnecessary crew had been ushered out for the day.
The fact is, I shouldn’t have been there. I realize now that scenes like that are filmed on ‘closed sets’ with a limited number of crew present for a reason. A frustrating day led to a manic and goading director pushing Billy too far for my liking, which led to me seeing more than I’d ever want to in terms of Billy getting physical with another woman. I was embarrassed and humiliated. Especially when I had a near panic attack in front of everyone. Actually, it was more like a banshee having a breakdown as I let out an almighty wail and caused filming to come to an abrupt halt so everyone could turn and stare at me, the girl screaming because her boyfriend had just been forced to lick another woman’s nipple. The thought of it still makes me shudder.
It’s fair to say I don’t want to go on to another film set
if I don’t have to, especially as word has probably got around about my last visit to one. In fact, I’d be surprised if the people in charge and spending loads of cash on the film would let me anywhere near the studio anyway.
‘You know there’s nothing like that in this film,’ Billy says gently.
‘Yeah … I know,’ I say, squirming at my inability to talk about what happened, even after all this time.
‘Look, the schedule has been all over the place so far,’ Billy sighs, starting to sound frustrated. ‘Sometimes I’m there all day from six in the morning until ten at night doing different bits and pieces. I’ll get to see you so much more if you come along.’
‘I’m not coming.’
‘Even though I’ve paid for you to travel all this way?’ he asks, moving away from me so that we can properly see each other.
I stare at him open-mouthed.
‘What?’ he questions, raising an eyebrow at me and looking annoyed as he clenches his jaw.
‘Are you actually throwing the fact that you surprised me with tickets back in my face? Because I didn’t ask you to do that. And you paying doesn’t mean I need to comply with everything you want me to do,’ I retort angrily.
‘No, you don’t, but it would be nice considering.’
‘I don’t want to go,’ I say adamantly, my face turning red at the memory of something which sadly still makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. Which I thought Billy of all people might have understood.
He sits up and exhales loudly. ‘I thought we were past all that. We’ve moved on.’
‘We have!’ I say, stunned at his reaction, which is bordering on disgust.
‘I thought you’d forgiven me.’
‘I have.’
‘Then why won’t you come and spend time with me when you’ve flown all this way to see me?’
‘Billy, it’s not that simple,’ I try to explain.