Authors: Giovanna Fletcher
‘No, seriously, it’s good to see you, Billy!’ Bernard concludes before continuing with the rest of his opening speech.
‘Well, I thought I got off lightly there!’ he whispers in my ear. ‘It could’ve been far worse. I actually thought it was quite funny.’
We sit through several awards being dished out before a cameraman runs to our side, sticking his camera lens in our direction, letting us know that Billy’s category is next. He clasps my hand even tighter and turns to give me a kiss.
‘Here goes nothing,’ he whispers.
‘I believe in you!’ I encourage, as we both turn our attention back to the stage.
‘Next tonight,’ announces Bernard. ‘To present the award for best male, we have last year’s outstanding winner. Please welcome the delightful Mr Andrew McGreal.’
The crowd gives a raucous applause of appreciation as Andrew walks onto the stage and over to the podium, clutching the BAFTA award in one hand and the gold envelope, containing the winner’s name, in the other.
‘Good evening all!’ he says to the crowd with a beaming smile, his broad northern accent instantly making
him friendlier than most of the other presenters who have been on stage with their stiffer RP accents. ‘The question I have been asked the most since winning this award last year is “Where do you keep it?” Is it on my mum’s mantelpiece, or in my downstairs loo? Well, if I’m honest, I keep mine with me at all times and whip it out any time I’m in auditions, important meetings or stressful situations, reminding people that I am the best …’ He unbuttons his suit jacket and pulls out his own BAFTA, placing it in front of him on the stand, causing us, and the rest of the audience, to laugh loudly. ‘That’s just to remind you all,’ he smiles, looking down at the envelope in front of him. ‘Let’s crack on with it, shall we? The nominees for this year’s BAFTA leading actor award are: Tom McLean for
Bad Mind
, Russell Mode for
Into the Dark
, Sam Watts for
Tinker
and Billy Buskin for
Twisted Drops
.’
I rub Billy’s hand in support, although if I’m honest the action is more to settle my own nerves than his, as the tension causes adrenaline to rush through me unexpectedly.
Short clips of each actor in their nominated film roles are played on the screens on stage, each receiving a short burst of applause from the appreciative audience.
Billy turns to me with a smile, letting out a small sigh.
‘This is it!’
He continues to look at me, even though we’re aware that Andrew is opening the winning envelope on stage.
‘The winner of this year’s BAFTA for best leading
actor is …’ Andrew pauses, before continuing. ‘Well, well, well! It’s Billy Buskin!’
The room erupts in cheers as I watch Billy’s face drop with shock and his body fold into his chair with disbelief. He takes a few seconds to compose himself before eventually looking around at the people surrounding us who are patting him on the back and shouting words of congratulation. I’m sitting motionless by his side, my hand clamped over my mouth, feeling in awe of the moment. I’m filled with so much pride that I want to burst into tears. Billy looks at me and pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my hair.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he mutters, shaking his head.
‘You better go get your award, baby,’ I whisper, aware that the applause is starting to die down from the expectant crowd and that they’ll want to hear from their winner.
He nods, looks up at my eyes, grabs my face with both hands and kisses me, before running up to the stage and embracing Andrew, who gives him his trophy.
‘Wow,’ starts Billy with the award firmly in his grasp as he stands in front of the microphone. ‘I really wasn’t expecting this. At all,’ he confesses, shaking his head in amazement. ‘I didn’t even write a speech … I don’t think I’m meant to admit to that, though, am I? Very helpfully, my manager did hand me a long list of names telling me it would be rude not to thank them all if this outcome were to occur – well, I ended up leaving that list at home. It felt presumptuous, almost, to carry it around with me. So, if you’re on that list I will thank
you properly once I’ve woken up from this crazy dream.’ The room responds with scattered laughter. ‘But there is one person here who I would like to thank …’ he continues. ‘The better half of me, that is, Miss Sophie May. I feel like I’ve already won the biggest prize of all having her beside me. It’s thanks to her that my life is now complete.’
Tears fill my eyes as Billy leaves the podium, and against all efforts from the ushers for him to exit the side of the stage like all the previous winners, he strides back down the front steps and up the aisle. He scoops me up and embraces me, holding me tightly as though there is nowhere else he would rather be. We ignore the clapping and cheering around us and focus on this special moment together.
I thought Billy was popular before his win but the party after the awards shows me that things are about to get even crazier. It feels as though everybody comes over to Billy to congratulate him on the film and his award, meaning we can barely walk two steps without being stopped by someone new. A buzz of excitement surrounds him and it feels as though all eyes are focused in his direction.
‘And what about you, dear?’ asks an elderly woman who has been speaking to Billy for the last few minutes, whilst keeping eye contact with the both of us, therefore making me feel included in the conversation. I never realized before how rare an occurrence this actually is, but the fact that it makes an impact on me means that it must be. ‘You’re no doubt incredibly proud?’
‘Yes, I am,’ I declare, enjoying her warmth.
‘And that speech!’ She squeals while clutching her chest. ‘I haven’t seen something as romantic as that for a while. You make sure you look after this one, Billy,’ she winks.
‘I sure will!’ he says with a smile, tightening his grip around my waist.
‘Right, I’d better be off. These parties tend to get a bit wild and I’m too old for that now. Congratulations
again, the pair of you,’ she says, before turning and shuffling towards the exit.
Watching her leave, my heart stops as I spot a familiar face walking towards us. Noticing that I’ve suddenly tensed up, Billy looks at me to see what’s wrong. When he looks in the direction of my eyeline I hear him laugh quietly as it all becomes clear.
‘Billy? Jude. I just wanted to come over and congratulate you on your win,’ says Jude Law (yes, my flaming crush!) as he offers Billy his hand to shake. He is much taller than I imagined. That’s not to say he is massively tall, he’s probably average height for a man, but I’ve heard so many people tell Billy that he looks smaller off the big screen that I just assumed all actors were a little shorter than they seemed. I notice Jude’s teeth are pearly white as he gives Billy one of his trademark wide grins, almost causing me to melt with delight. I take the opportunity of being so close to him while he is preoccupied with Billy, to continue to inspect his face in detail: his perfectly ruffled hair – although, yes, slightly balding (I don’t mind), his sexy five o’clock shadow coming through (making him appear rough and rugged), and his electrifying green eyes (splashes of heaven). He is simply intoxicating, without a single imperfection – none that I can spot anyway … although I even find the thin wrinkles around his eyes intriguing.
‘Thank you so much, it’s quite bizarre,’ answers Billy.
‘I’ll bet. It’ll take a while to sink in. This must be your wonderful lady,’ he says, turning his attention to me and shaking my hand. ‘Miss Sophie May, was it?’
I nod and smile with enthusiasm, suddenly losing the ability to speak. He said my name … he’s remembered it from Billy’s speech.
‘Excuse me, guys,’ says a bald man, who holds up his huge camera in explanation of the interruption. ‘Is it OK to get a snap?’
‘Of course,’ says Jude.
‘Let’s get Sophie in the middle,’ says Billy, with a cheeky grin in my direction, as they each stand either side of me facing the camera. Billy lays his arm around my waist while Jude rests his hand on my shoulder. I stop breathing as I put all my focus into smiling for the camera and not falling to the floor in awe of Jude’s greatness.
‘Cheers, guys,’ the cameraman says after a few clicks, heading off and looking about for his next photograph.
‘Actually,’ says Billy, going after him. ‘Is it OK to get your email address so that I can get a few stills of some of the photos you’ve taken today?’
As he does so, Jude removes his arm from my shoulder and smiles at me. I look at the floor shyly, not sure what to say.
‘I love your dress, by the way,’ he says politely, filling the silence between us.
‘Thank you. It’s by Vera Wang,’ I manage, although I’m not sure he needed to hear that information.
‘Well, you look stunning in it,’ he says with a sparkling smile.
Luckily, Billy comes back at this precise moment, folding a piece of paper into his pocket.
‘Well, it’s been a pleasure to meet you both. Enjoy the rest of your night!’ he adds, before shaking Billy’s hand again, squeezing my arm, giving me a wink and wandering off.
He winked at me.
Jude Law winked at me.
Billy gives me a gentle nudge, bringing me back into the room and making me aware that I’m just staring in Jude’s direction.
‘Earth to Sophie …’ he quietly says in my ear.
I turn to him, open-mouthed, still agog from what has just occurred.
‘I can’t wait to tell Mum and Molly about that!’ I suddenly say.
‘I thought so … luckily you’ll have some photo evidence to show them too!’
Throughout the night people continue to come over and congratulate Billy, although as time goes on and more alcohol is consumed people are less respectful about butting in on his conversations with others. They become even more focused on him, with any earlier social barriers having tumbled down.
Interestingly, they become more aloof towards me. I, obviously, am not successful or the star of the evening so am of no importance to them whatsoever. I’m amazed at how many people come over and ignore me entirely. Even if I try and start up a conversation with them, they’re quick to direct their attention back to
Billy as soon as they can. It’s wondrous to observe, even if it does leave me feeling slightly perturbed.
‘Darling, I must say that I have tipped you from day one to achieve great things!’ slurs one lady who has been saying the same lines of admiration to Billy for the last five minutes, while tapping his chest.
‘Thank you, Lorraine,’ Billy says again, smiling shyly.
Although we’ve been taking it steady with our celebratory glasses of champagne (neither us wanted to get too giddy on such an important night), it appears, as we look at the chaos surrounding us, that others are making the most of the night – and the free bar. Billy currently has five people gathered around him, all of them talking in his direction and none of them seem to care that Billy’s attention is torn between the lot of them. He looks quite happy amongst them, so I decide it’s a good time to freshen up in the loo and get us both another drink. I make the obvious hand signals and mouth to Billy, over the heads of his entourage, and head off.
After waiting forever at the toilet, the structured designer dresses making it impossible for anyone to pee quickly, I stand at the bar waiting to be served.
‘Is he enjoying himself, then? Making the most of being everybody’s best friend for the night?’ someone asks to my left. I look over to see Russell Mode, one of the actors who were also nominated for the best actor gong earlier. He is swirling his drink around in his hand, causing the ice to bang on the side of the glass as he
does so. From the sight of him I imagine he has been sat here a while; he has a floppy, intoxicated way about him and he struggles to hold eye contact.
‘Hello. Russell, isn’t it?’ I ask politely, to which he nods silently while pouting his lips. ‘Well, yes, he is. It’s not quite sunk in for him yet,’ I say, repeating what I’ve been overhearing Billy say all evening.
‘Oh, it will do, soon enough. And then his life is going to change forever,’ he says dramatically, focusing on the drink in his hand. ‘I’d make the most of him while he’s still the Billy Buskin you know and love,’ he continues with a frown. ‘Soon enough he’ll be the star of Hollywood, in the big boys’ league, I mean, not just in some crappy little teen thing which mindless girls fantasize over. And to do that, to be one of them in the big league, he needs someone just as dazzling as him on his arm.’
‘Now, Russell,’ I say, placing my arm on his shoulder in a friendly manner, acting more confident than I feel. ‘I’ve worked blooming hard to look this good today, well, a whole team of people have, in fact, it took them hours. Are you trying to say I’m not dazzling enough?’
‘You’re the one that works in Coffee Matters, right? I mean, no offence to you, I’m sure you’re lovely … but to give you that extra va va voom, you need to be part of a power couple. Maybe that can happen with a girl who works in Coffee Matters. Maybe you’ll be able to prove me wrong. I hope you do. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he explains with a hint of malice, making me feel uncomfortable. ‘If I was you, I’d run while you’ve
still got your pride and dignity, before he can run off with his leading lady, leaving you without a second thought.’ He leans forward, his voice deeper and slower, adding more weight to his words. ‘It’s a game, and he is now the key piece. From this moment on every girl in the industry is going to be batting their eyelashes in his direction, doing everything they can to get his attention. Do you really think you can hold them off? It’s only a matter of time.’
‘Well …’ I say with a sigh, still managing to wear a smile. ‘Thank you for that, Russell. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’
I turn back into the crowded room, wipe away a single tear, throw back my shoulders, clench my jaw to steady myself, and head straight towards Billy. He looks up at me from the current group that have accosted him, as though he can sense me walking towards him. A big grin fills his face. I watch as he makes his escape from the group and walks in my direction.
‘Can I just say, I am definitely the luckiest person here tonight, and it is nothing to do with that blooming award.’
I smile at him, trying to forget Russell’s words that niggle away at my brain, trying to remember that I know Billy better than he does. Surely Russell’s words were uttered purely out of spite, to put doubt into my mind and get some sort of revenge? Billy wouldn’t conform to such an old stereotype, would he?
‘Hey, did you get those drinks?’ Billy asks, noticing my empty hands.
‘No, I couldn’t get to the bar,’ I lie.
‘You know what? I’ve had fun, but I think I’ve had my fill, anyway,’ he says, looking around the room.
‘Honestly?’
‘Yes! Take me home, Princess!’ he says, using his award to point towards the exit.
Getting in the car on the way home, Billy answers a call from his excited mum and dad, then speaks to Paul, so I pull out my own phone to discover I have dozens of missed calls and messages, not only from Mum and Molly, but from a whole heap of numbers that I don’t recognize.
I decide to listen to the one from Molly first. ‘Hello, duck!’ she starts, calling from what sounds like a very busy room, full of people talking loudly. ‘Well, who’d have thought you’d scrub up so well, eh? I was sad you didn’t go for the plaits in your hair, mind, but I can see why, it wouldn’t have worked – the down-do was much better with that dress. Congratulations to Billy on his win, we all screamed our heads off when his name was read out, and what a speech! Oh, your mum’s here … I’ll pass her over.’ I chuckle at the thought of them handing around the phone just to leave a voice message; it’s not as if I was there to speak to either of them.
‘Hello, love,’ says Mum. ‘You looked so pretty. Say well done to Billy! I’ll try and call you later, but I expect you’ll be off celebrating. Have fun.’
I wonder what it would have been like for them all
sat round watching me on the TV. I can imagine them huddled together in the shop, passing round the teapot and cakes, chatting away as they wait to see if they can spot me on the screen. The thought of it makes me smile, before a pang of homesickness grabs hold of me suddenly. What did they think when my face popped up? Not just Mum and Molly, but people like Mrs Sleep and Miss Brown – did they cheer with delight? Did they think I’d changed from the Sophie they used to know when I was serving them in the shop? I hope not. I hope they realize it’s still me, just a glamorized version … a version which took lots of time and effort from other people to create, but will disappear in minutes when I get ready for bed shortly.
The next message I listen to is from Mum; I’m guessing she decided to call again later on when she got home from the shop. ‘Hello, love. Me again. I know you’re probably out, but I just wanted to call again and tell you how beautiful you looked tonight. I’m so proud of you. Speak to you later if you’re not home too late, or in the morning. Night, night. Love you.’
I look at the time and notice it’s one in the morning. She’ll be fast asleep by now, so instead of calling her back I listen to the other messages on my phone. One is from Andrezj, my former boss at Coffee Matters: ‘Looking hot, lady!’ he shouts down the phone. ‘Let’s do lunch sometime – somewhere fancy, baby! Get Billy to book us a table somewhere splendid. Definitely not Coffee Matters!’ he laughs before hanging up.
The other voicemail is from my old school friend Mary Lance, who I haven’t spoken to for about seven years.
‘Hi, Sophie! It’s Mary Lance here from school. I’ve just switched on the television to see your beautiful face. What a lovely surprise. I called Molly for your number, hope you don’t mind. It sounded crazy in the shop, like she’s having a party or something. Anyway, I’d love to catch up with you if you’re free, maybe grab a coffee?’ I’m surprised at how thrilled I am to hear her voice, even though it’s been so long. It would be nice to see her again, now that we’re older, with a few less social boundaries surrounding us.
Next, I flick through my text messages,
Hello, Sophie-soph. It’s Carla Daily, I used to be in your class back in the good old days, remember? Mary just gave me your number – we ended up at Sheffield together. Needless to say, I wasn’t doing dentistry. Ha! Anyway, oh my god, look how you’ve grown! Amazing! Mary mentioned about us all meeting up and having a night out. Sounds fun. Get in touch. Let’s sort it! Going home next week to see the ’rents. You about? I’ll pop in the shop. Xx C xX
I remember Carla from primary school. She hung out with the popular girls in our class, as I did at one point. Seeing as I went through school in a bubble of avoidance,
I can’t recall ever actually speaking to her once everything had changed for me. Although maybe I did before that. It’s strange to think of her and Mary as friends now, but then I still think of them as the eighteen-year-old girls that left school with me all those years ago. I’ve changed, so no doubt they have too.