Authors: Giovanna Fletcher
‘It doesn’t change anything, love,’ Mum reasons, the earlier joy on her face slipping away, allowing me to see a glimpse of her vulnerability once more and the hurt that has overpowered most of our lives.
I don’t want that Mum back, the Mum that was unable to function. The Mum I couldn’t bear to leave. I’d be a fool to voice my thoughts or show any disappointment. I’d be selfish to expect Mum to live a life of solitude after so much hurt, when for years I wished her heart would mend – that I’d get my Mum back.
‘Oh, I know it doesn’t. It’s just … a shock I guess,’ I manage to say. ‘You deserve to have someone though, Mum,’ I add with a smile. ‘I mean that.’
Mum squeezes my hand, causing me to look up at her face. It makes me so happy to see that warmth in her face once again.
‘We’ll never forget him, you know, love. No one can take away those special memories and the love that he gave us. He’ll always be here, holding us two together.’
I nod, but remain silent, wondering if I’ll ever miss him any less.
‘Darling, what have you told Billy about what happened?’ she asks quietly, making sure Billy and Molly don’t overhear.
‘Nothing,’ I admit with a shrug.
‘Really?’
‘He’s known all along that it’s just you and me, but he hasn’t asked.’
‘He’s never asked about your family?’
‘No. There was a point early on that I thought he would, especially as I talk about Dad being around when I was younger, but he didn’t. So I haven’t told him.’
‘Don’t you think you should?’
‘It’s a bit late to bring it up now, isn’t it? How do I just slip that one into conversation?’
Mum doesn’t say anything. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
I know that at some point I’ll have to open up about
the most painful time in my life, but right now I’m not ready for my past to taint my present. Not when I finally have a new life away from the tragedy that has loomed over me for so long. Burdening Billy with this and seeing that look in his eyes, that sorrowful, sympathetic look, is something I’m just not ready for.
The next day, Molly and Mum’s visit plays on my mind. We had a glorious day in the sunshine, just lazing around, talking and laughing, but tiny things have niggled at me since: the fact that Mum is seeing someone, that Sally is supposedly a wonder with the customers and that I have talk to Billy about Dad is, of course, a huge part of it. But that’s not all. I don’t feel missed. It’s as though I moved to London in the hope of living this joyous life with Billy, only to spend my days being belittled by vile customers and my nights walking around an empty flat alone, whereas they’re back in Rosefont Hill and seem happier than ever without me.
It’s these thoughts that lead me to being flustered, butter-fingered and confused at work – much to the annoyance of Andrezj and a few dissatisfied customers.
‘Er, excuse me?’ says a man’s voice, deep and agitated.
‘Yes? How can I help, sir?’ I ask politely, as I look up to see a suited businessman looking at me in disgust. He holds his plastic cup out to the side, as if it’s vermin in his podgy fingers, his round face flaming red and a hive-like rash appearing on his neck.
‘I asked for an iced sugar-free coffee-based mint mocha frappuccino?’ he spits, elongating each word
and over-pronouncing them in that special way that English people do when they think they’re talking to foreigners … or someone stupid.
‘Ye-es?’ I say, not quite seeing the problem and refusing to let him rile me.
‘Coffee-based?’
I smile at him, hoping that he’ll soon tell me my error so that I can get on with the orders from Andrezj, which are now piling up next to me.
His flaring nostrils tell me he doesn’t appreciate the smile. Far from it. Now that I’ve played the nice card he’s even more pissed off.
‘There’s no coffee in it?’ he spits with rage. ‘It’s meant to be coffee-based!’ his voice gets louder and causes a wave of silence to fall over the shop. ‘Honestly, is it so difficult to get a fucking coffee order right?’ he barks at me.
I just stare at him, hoping that he’ll hear back in his head how he has just spoken to me and apologize, but his glare gets meaner and his jaw rocks from side to side as his anger continues to increase.
‘I’m sorry, sir, let me take that back and I’ll make you a fresh one,’ I say as I grab the cup from his hand, feeling extremely uncomfortable and exposed, aware that everyone is staring.
‘That’s not the point is it, little lady. You should’ve made the right thing from the start. You might not have a proper fucking job, sweetheart, but the rest of us do and we deserve to get what we paid for.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help thinking you’re
overreacting –’ I say, trying to reason with him before getting cut off.
‘What?’ he booms.
‘It’s only a coffee …’ I explain.
‘I’ve heard it all now!’ he says in despair, raising his arms in the air, as if calling on the gods to come and shoot me down for my insolence. ‘If a doctor went into work one day and decided to give a patient a nose job instead of, I don’t know, a heart transplant, he’d be sacked.’
‘Well, I think that’s slightly different, isn’t it? Look, I’ve said sorry, I can’t do any more than that – so, would you like another coffee or not?’ I say, as I pull the lid off of the discarded cup, ready to dispose of it.
‘I don’t want you to say sorry, I want you to acknowledge the fact that you’re a useless human being and a waste of fucking space!’ he shouts.
The cold drink goes flying through the air, landing on the guy’s face and suit, before I even have a chance to think about my actions. The gathering crowd of customers and staff (who decided to simply watch and not interject while I was being verbally attacked) gasp in shock.
Silence falls over the shop.
Oh crap!
A loud clap starts up from somewhere in the shop, causing a few more people to join in, adding wolf-whistles and cheers.
‘I’d have done that five minutes ago!’ declares a woman at the back of the queue.
‘What a twat. Well done you!’ shouts out a burly builder.
‘Who does he think he is?’ a teenager asks loudly, tutting at the businessman in disdain.
Regardless of their support, I know I’m in trouble.
While my unhappy customer wipes the creamy drink away from his face and looks down at the mess I have made of his (no doubt designer) suit, I decide enough is enough. I turn to Andrezj and give him an apologetic shrug as I whip off my apron and baseball cap, leave them on the side, grab my bag and calmly walk out of the door.
The journey home is quick as I battle to keep my composure, the shock and adrenaline causing my body to shake uncontrollably. As soon as I walk through the door I stop in my tracks and sob. Big fat tears spill out of me. I cry so hard my breathing becomes erratic.
Billy arrives by my side in the hallway, looking dishevelled from another night out. He doesn’t say anything, he just holds me as the tears continue to fall.
‘I want to go home,’ I wail. ‘I hate London. I want to go home!’ The words get caught in my throat, making me sob harder.
When my tears start to subside Billy guides me to the kitchen and sits me down in one of the swivel chairs at the counter. In silence, he makes us both some tea, then sits in front of me and takes my hands in his.
‘OK, baby. What’s happened?’
‘I’ve been an absolute idiot.’
‘What? How?’
Slowly I tell him about the morning’s events – the horrible man at work and the vile things he shouted at me before I lost my rag and drenched him in sloppy brown liquid.
Billy sits in silence, his mouth wide open in disbelief.
‘So you just left?’ he asks, a smile creeping across his lips.
‘Yeah … I figured that I was going to get sacked anyway. There’s no way Andrezj could keep me on after that, even if he wanted to.’
Fresh tears threaten to fall at the thought of it. How could I have been so reckless?
‘Baby, I’m so proud of you,’ Billy says, kissing the back of my hand.
‘What? Why?’
‘Because you stood up for yourself.’
‘Hardly! I just saw red.’
‘I think there’s more to it than that. This guy … was he the only one to treat you this badly?’
‘No,’ I admit sheepishly, taking a gulp of my tea.
‘What? Seriously, baby, if I’d known that you were being treated so badly I’d have stopped you working there. I can’t believe you’ve not told me this stuff.’
‘It’s not like everything about the place was bad,’ I try and reason. ‘Besides, I thought something better would come along quickly. I didn’t realize I’d be stuck there quite so long.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me, Sophie?’ he asks, as a frown appears on his face.
‘You’ve got a lot on,’ I shrug.
‘That’s a rubbish excuse.’
‘What? You’ve been busy with the show – I haven’t wanted to bother you with my nonsense.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were so unhappy?’
‘I’m not unhappy,’ I lie.
‘I think crying and saying you hate being in London and that you want to go home kinda constitutes being unhappy.’
‘Billy …’ I say, burying my head in my hands. ‘I’m just not very good at saying I need help!’
‘Why not?’
I look at his loving face and think about spilling my guts. Getting everything out there and telling him exactly what has happened to make me resist depending on others for the majority of my life.
But Billy starts to speak again before I get the chance.
‘Admit it, you’ve hated it here, haven’t you?’
‘No!’
‘I dragged you to London so that we can be closer, but then stay out late every night while you have a shitty job and spend your nights alone,’ he pauses to let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’m so sorry for being so selfish.’
‘No, no, no. It’s not your fault.’
‘I could’ve made things better.’
‘It’s not you. I guess it’s just not been what I thought it would be like. If I’m honest, I’ve been lonely.’
Billy stares at me, silently, allowing me to continue.
‘Back at home I spent so much time on my own, but never once felt lonely. Here, even though I see hundreds more people each day, I’ve never felt lonelier. Sitting at home each night, I don’t have a clue what to do with myself. Outside the streets are buzzing with excitement and I’m not a part of it. But you are.’
‘That’s why I’ve tried to get you to come out with me, so that you could make some friends here.’
‘It’s not about friends, Billy. Not really. I’ve never really had many of those,’ I say honestly. ‘It just doesn’t feel like home.’
‘Yet,’ Billy adds.
I look up at him, his eyes big and hopeful.
‘Molly said something interesting to me yesterday, about grabbing the opportunities life throws your way,’ he says.
‘She said something similar to me.’ Perhaps, I think, she’s been more tuned in to how unhappy I’ve been than I thought.
‘Well, I think we should take that on board and not waste time doing something one of us hates …’
I sigh, knowing what he’s about to say.
‘Will you please stop being so proud and forget the idea of getting another job?’ he asks.
‘But –’
‘Just for a little while? I’ve only got a couple of weeks left on the show anyway and after that, well, who knows where we’ll be. But I want you in my life. Actually in it. With me.’
‘It would make things easier if we actually spent time together,’ I say, giving the idea some thought.
‘Exactly.’
‘And I do have my savings, so I could dip into those if I needed to.’
‘Well, we’ll see about that, shall we?’ he says, raising his eyebrows at me.
Billy’s always been amazed at the fact that I’d managed to raise so much simply from working in a
teashop, so I know he’d hate to see me dwindle it away now.
‘I just want you to realize that what’s mine is yours,’ he continues. ‘You don’t even have to ask – just take one of my cards and keep it with you.’
‘No! I couldn’t do that!’ I protest.
‘Of course you could. Seriously, we’re a team. I hate the thought of me eating out at The Ivy or somewhere and you stressing over whether you can afford a sandwich from M&S. It’s stupid.’
‘M&S? Do you realize how much their sandwiches cost?’ I ask with a laugh – Billy’s understanding of money and how much things should cost are so different to mine. ‘Look, it’s a very nice offer but I’ve not had to rely on anyone else for money for a long time. There’s no way I can just start now,’ I explain.
‘You won’t be relying on me. Just take one of my cards and act like it’s yours,’ he pleads.
‘But what would I do with all that free time?’ I ask.
‘Spend it with me? Or walk around London? Visit museums and do all the touristy things you’ve not done yet?’ he says with a grin. ‘Come on. Surely anything is better than working in a place where you’re not valued?’
‘I guess so.’
Could there be a way of this actually working without me feeling like I’m taking the mickey and sponging off Billy? Is there a way of keeping some independence and maintaining some sort of structure?
‘What about if I clean and do all the washing?’ I offer.
Billy raises his eyebrows at me, not sold on the idea.
‘No, listen. If I do that then at least I’d feel like I’m earning my keep. I won’t feel like I’m just scrounging off you.’
‘So you’d rather fill up your time with cleaning and washing?’
‘Billy, it’s a two-bedroom flat – there honestly won’t be much to do. I can do it all while you’re at work. I’ve never understood why you had a cleaner anyway!’
‘All right, then,’ he finally agrees, even though he doesn’t seem thrilled to do so. ‘This means that at the moment we’ll be together in the days, all day long …’
‘Yep,’ I say excitedly.
‘And with no job to wake up for in the mornings you can come and meet me out for dinner or whatever after the show.’
‘If you like!’ I say, trying to hide the fact that I’m not overly keen on the idea.
‘But most of the time I can come and meet you back here and we can just chill?’
‘Sounds perfect!’
‘You know the only reason I’ve not come back is because I’ve known you’d be asleep and I haven’t wanted to wake you. You know that, right? It’s never been because I haven’t wanted to spend time with you,’ he says earnestly.
‘I know …’
‘Promise me that if ever you feel low or unhappy you’ll tell me, OK? I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.’
‘I promise. Actually, Billy, there’s something –’
His mobile starts ringing, drawing his attention away from me as he pulls it out of his pocket.
‘Ah, it’s Paul. Is it ok if I get this? He left me a message earlier on but I haven’t called him back yet.’
‘Of course!’
Billy gives me a kiss before turning away and picking up his phone.
‘Paul, mate! So sorry – I’ve only just got up,’ he says, walking into the bedroom.
That was my chance.
I could have told him about Dad and what happened all those years ago. Explained the struggles that have turned me into the person I am today.
Argh!
Billy yelps with joy in the other room – Paul has obviously given him some good news.
The moment has now passed.
‘You are not going to believe it!’ Billy says, running into the lounge where I’m curled up with a battered copy of
Jane Eyre
.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Honestly, I’ve never been so excited!’
‘Come on! Out with it!’
‘That was Paul …’
‘Yeeeees …’
‘Right, well, there are two bits of information actually,’ Billy says, ruffling his hair and making it stand up on end like a mad person. ‘OK, the first thing – I read
this script a few months ago and loved it. It was this semi-biopic about a crazy rock star in the seventies – really gritty and miles away from anything I’ve done before.’ The words are gushing out of his mouth with such enthusiasm that I can’t help but beam at him as he continues. ‘I really wanted to be considered to play the rock star but the producers weren’t too sure about casting me in it because of
Halo
, they kept saying I was too clean for it or whatever – but Paul brought them in to see
Dunked
the other night and, well, it looks like they want me for it!’
‘That’s amazing!’
‘I know! One look at my backside and they were gripped!’ he laughs. ‘The best bit is it’s filming just outside of London, and so I’ll be able to push for us to stay here and have a car and driver every day instead. I think that will be nicer for us.’
‘That’s brilliant!’ I say. Pleased that he won’t be leaving home on this job either. ‘What’s it called?’
‘At the moment it’s called
The Walking Beat
, but that might change.’ He takes a deep breath before continuing. ‘But enough about that … the second thing is just a little bit more exciting.’
‘More exciting?’ I repeat.
‘Yes … I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ he says, a smile spreading across his lips.
‘Go on!’ I urge him as he pauses for dramatic effect.
‘I’ve been nominated for a BAFTA award!’
‘What?’ I squeal.
‘A bloody BAFTA! For Best Actor!’
I jump on him, screaming with excitement.
‘That’s incredible!’ I gush.
‘I know … I never thought this day would come. I’ve always been told, “Once a teen star, always a teen star,” but this proves them wrong. I’ve been nominated for a bloody BAFTA … I can’t believe it!’
‘For
Halo
?’
‘God, no! You must be joking. It’s for this one I shot last year called
Twisted Drops
, all about a soldier in the First World War who gets captured by the French. Gosh, I can’t believe it!’
I just sit, smiling at him, unsure what else to say.
‘And I’ve decided I want you with me on the red carpet,’ he says decisively. ‘By my side. I don’t want you shunted off somewhere in the corner waiting around for me. Like I said earlier, I want you with me. Next to me.’
‘What? ‘I say in shock. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly.’
Paul’s words on Billy’s opening night start replaying in my ears. He’ll hate this.
‘Have you mentioned this to Paul?’
‘Not yet,’ he says with a shrug.
‘I have a feeling he’s not going be too impressed with this idea … it’s going to be a big night for you
and
your career, Billy. It’s far bigger than your Press Night and we both know that he didn’t want me anywhere near you then!’
‘I don’t care. I want to share the night with you and I
want to show the world how beautiful the love of my life is,’ he says, kissing me and pulling me close.
‘You really think it’s going to be that simple?’
‘Of course … I’ll talk to Paul.’
Later that day, after lounging around on the sofa for most of the morning while Billy calls his family to tell them the good news, he plucks up the courage to phone Paul and tell him that he’d like me to join him on the red carpet. Well, I say ‘tell’ but the pleading, whining and endless discussion that I can hear from Billy in the bedroom suggests he’s having to work hard to get Paul to agree.
He is on the phone for two hours.
‘All sorted,’ announces Billy, when he finally walks back into the room and joins me on the sofa.
‘Really?’ I ask hesitantly.
Billy looks drained. I’ve never seen him so pale. His tone might be upbeat but the look on his face is one of deflation. I’ve no doubt that Paul has spent the whole conversation trying to get Billy to uninvite me.
‘Look, if it’s a problem I really don’t mind watching from home.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘No way!’ says Billy, scooping me up and sliding me onto his lap. ‘I want you with me, remember?’
‘And what did Paul say about that?’ I prompt.
‘He was fine with it,’ he says with a shrug as he starts to stroke his hand along my thigh.
‘Billy?’
‘Well, OK … once he knew I wasn’t going to back down he was,’ he says with a cheeky grin.
‘That sounds more believable.’
‘It’s all good, though, he gets it now. He’s even offered to help you find a dress.’
‘What? Why?’
The thought of traipsing around shops with Paul does not fill me with delight. Yes, I know I said that I’d be willing to give him another chance in case I was wrong about him and his condescending ways – it was an important night – but does that chance really have to occur while I’m in a heightened state of paranoia dress shopping?
‘It’s a special night, so you need a special dress. Paul’s good with stuff like that.’
‘But I’ve already found a dress!’ I blurt.
‘You have?’
‘Yep. I saw a lovely dress in Warehouse a few days ago.’
Actually, this is true, it was a lovely black ruched number with a swooping cowl neckline – simple but dressier than I would normally go for.