‘Hello Marcus. Hello Lara.’
And at once, Lara’s stomach turned and lifted itself somewhere into her throat. She didn’t need the man to stand and unfold himself to his full height. She didn’t need him to come forward into the pool of light spilling into the room from the hallway. She didn’t need to see the still razor-sharp cheekbones, the deep-set eyes that seemed to look out from somewhere else, the dark hair that curled around them.
She knew him.
Bella gasped.
‘Fuck me,’ Olly said under his breath.
‘Stephen Molloy!’ Marcus yelled into the hiatus. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’
‘Shh, shh.’ James fluttered around turning on a couple of lamps. ‘We can’t let them
all
know he’s here.’
Lara breathed in and out slowly, trying to force her heart rate down. Her runner’s trick. Time was bought for her by her husband, who now had his arms clapped around Stephen Molloy, holding him in a bear-hug, his face against his chest he was that short against him.
‘Fuck me,’ Olly said again. ‘Is that really Stephen Molloy?’
‘It is,’ Lara said in a small voice.
‘The one Dad knows?’
‘What does it look like, moron?’ Bella said, her eyes like saucers.
Stephen Molloy was still clasped in Marcus’s embrace but he was looking at Lara. She forced her knees not to buckle. The room, which she had initially thought to be air-conditioned, seemed to have become unbearably hot.
‘Lara.’ Finally released from Marcus, Stephen went over to her and took her hand. ‘It’s been a long time.’ His touch was like a homecoming to her.
‘I know Stephen and Marcus go back a long way,’ James said to Lara, putting his arm around her and enveloping her in a cloud of Halston for Men. ‘But I think you met him back in the day too?’
‘Yes, we knew each other,’ she said, glad of the excuse to break eye contact with Stephen.
‘It’s been a hell of a long time, though, eh?’ James went on. ‘I mean, you’ve seen Stephen, obviously, we all have. But he hasn’t had a sniff of Wayland for, what is it now?’
‘It must be seventeen years,’ Marcus said, reaching his hands up to Stephen’s shoulders, examining his face.
‘So you haven’t met the children, then?’ James said. ‘Let me then acquaint you with the three lovely Wayland offspring: Bella, Olly and little Jack.’
‘You must be the twins,’ Stephen said, shaking hands first with Bella then an uncharacteristically silent and awestruck Olly. ‘I think last time I saw your parents they had just got the happy news about you. I didn’t know about this little chap, though,’ he went on, bending and holding out a hand to Jack.
Unlike James, Stephen had hung on to his British accent: a thick Mancunian streak ran through his vowels. This surprised Lara. For the last few years she had only seen him doing American parts, and had somehow thought his celluloid voice an extension of his own. She wondered whether the rest of him had remained the same, too.
‘Our happy accident,’ Marcus said, ruffling Jack’s hair, and Lara wished he would shut up. ‘My God man, it’s great to see you. Small world.’
It was strange how pleased Marcus was to see Stephen. He had followed the other man’s stellar career in a borderline obsessive way, joking off-handedly about how Stephen must be fucking the right sort of people, or that it was down to the luck of the Oirish. Lara had even overheard him roaring to his actor cronies, when they had gathered round to watch one of Stephen’s early films on afternoon TV, that he had more talent in his little finger than Stephen Molloy had in his entire body.
Not true, Lara had thought from her Apple Mac in the corner of the room.
‘I’ve got a place nearby,’ Stephen said. ‘A sort of bolt-hole. I know James and Betty from LA, and I give a bit of support to the theatre company.’
‘A bit!’ Betty said, wedging the champagne bottle between her thighs and popping the cork. ‘It’s somewhat more than a bit.’
‘And when James told me you were going to be his Thane, well.’
‘This is for you, Stephen.’ James handed him one of the Coke cans. ‘And I’ve got some for the kids – or are the twins OK with a drop of champers?’
‘Of course they are,’ Olly said.
‘It’s great to see you all,’ Stephen said. He seemed genuinely happy – not a look he tended to wear in his work, where he was generally cast as the dark and brooding hero.
‘To old friends!’ Betty said, holding her glass high.
‘Old friends,’ the Waylands said, clinking glasses with Stephen’s can.
‘Such a coincidence,’ Marcus said.
‘Small world indeed,’ Stephen agreed.
They all drank, then looked around at each other, lost for words. Bored, Jack wriggled away and went over to investigate the fish tank.
‘Well then,’ Stephen said, smiling and breaking the silence. There was something about him that seemed to draw everyone’s breath. Perhaps it was fame, Lara thought. But she remembered him having this effect even before, in the Stratford days. Certainly on her.
‘I’m afraid I have to go and prepare the kitchen for my guests,’ Betty said. ‘James, would you give me a hand?’
‘But—’
‘Honey.’
James sloped off after his partner. Again there was a silence in the room, set against the chatter and murmur of the people outside. Someone was strumming a guitar, and a woman sang an improvised melody around the chords. Stephen sipped his Diet Coke, looking at each one of them in turn, but his gaze kept returning to Lara. She noticed he was bouncing on his feet slightly, jiggling like a racehorse just before the off.
‘Shall we go outside?’ Marcus asked Stephen. Lara knew that, apart from anything else, he must be dying for a cigarette.
‘I don’t think so,’ Stephen said, smiling. ‘I like to keep a low profile.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lara said, looking up at him and realising she had to tilt her head at exactly the same angle she used to speak to Olly.
‘It’s just no one – other than James, Betty, Trudi and yourselves now – knows I’m here. I’m sort of tucked away.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Olly said, pointing a finger at Stephen. ‘You had that breakdown and went into hiding.’
‘Olly,’ Bella hissed. ‘Uncool.’
Stephen smiled and looked down. ‘It was a bit like that. But I wouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.’
‘You had that stalker,’ Olly said, as if he had scored a goal. Stephen looked up and smiled straight at him.
‘I did. Well remembered.’
‘Olly, that’s enough mate,’ Marcus said.
‘No, no. It’s OK. It’s better you know why I need my presence here to be secret. Not even my agent knows where I am. I was getting too much unwelcome – and quite alarming – attention back in LA, so I’m taking some time out, until things settle down. There
was
a stalker, yes, and it was very frightening. I needed a break, so James and Betty helped me out by suggesting that I come here.
‘I appreciate it’ll be hard to keep this quiet,’ he went on. ‘Especially for you guys,’ he said to Bella and Olly. ‘But I know your folks from way back and that kind of friendship is a rare thing for me these days. I had to come by here after the show and say hello. But I must ask you not to mention me to anyone. If you don’t, I’m sure we can have a great time together this summer. I’ve got a really nice place out in the forest, a swimming pond, woods. It’ll be fun. If you do let it out though, well, it could be rather awkward for me. I need to know you can keep my secret.’
Lara saw the challenge of this request register with her elder two children. She wished, for their sakes, she had been given the opportunity to decide whether they would be able to deal with the situation before they were plunged into it. There was no going back now, though; she hoped they were mature enough to cope.
‘Sure, man,’ Olly said at last, high-fiving Stephen. Bella nodded, still wide-eyed. She hadn’t blinked once since Stephen had revealed himself.
‘Well, that’s great, then,’ Stephen said. ‘Look. I mustn’t keep you guys – they’ll be wondering where you’ve got to.’ He nodded towards the garden. ‘I only wanted to stop by and say hello – the champagne and that is down to James and Betty. They’re such soft hearts. But please, come over for dinner on Monday night. It’d be good to have company. I’ll email you directions.’
‘That’ll be great,’ Marcus said. ‘But you can just give Lara the address, and she’ll Google it.’ He had his tobacco out and was rolling a cigarette.
‘You can’t Google my place,’ Stephen went on, draining his can. ‘Like I said, it’s under the radar.’
‘Wow,’ Bella said. ‘I thought you could Google anywhere.’
‘It takes a bit of organising, but it can be done,’ Stephen said. ‘Anyway, good to see you all again. Lara, do you want to give me your email address?’
‘Sure,’ Lara said. ‘You lot go on ahead; I’ll be out in a minute. You go out with Daddy, Jack.’
‘I haven’t finished looking at the fishies, though,’ Jack said from over by the tank.
‘You’re all right with the little ’un?’ Marcus said, cigarette to his lips.
Lara nodded.
Grateful to be signed off, Marcus led Bella and Olly outside. The double doors slammed shut behind them.
‘Do you have a pen?’ Lara said, looking up at him.
‘Lovely family,’ Stephen said.
‘Thank you.’
‘I haven’t got any myself. Kids.’
‘No. I sort of know that.’
‘Yes. I’m pretty much public property.’
‘But you must have had an amazing life.’
‘It’s been a ride. But in the end, it’s just a job. Well paid and interesting. But still just a job. And it takes over every aspect of your life.’
‘Yes,’ she said, holding his gaze.
‘I envy Marcus,’ he said.
‘You do?’ The dim light in the room hid the hot blush that sprang to her cheeks.
‘I’m lucky. I know that. I have a house here, a house in LA – lovely, up in the hills, you should see it. A brownstone in Manhattan and a house back home, near Manchester. But none of these places is home. The house back in the UK – I’ve owned it for thirteen years. Bought it with my first big pay cheque, with some sort of idea that I wouldn’t lose touch with my roots. I’ve spent probably thirty nights there in total. I still have stuff in boxes there, waiting to be unpacked. Two years ago I had some guys round to do some decorating – paint the hallway, that was it. They thought I had just moved in. And now I’m hiding on my own out here in the middle of nowhere. Why wouldn’t I envy Marcus?’
Stephen stepped forward, took her hand and smiled. His fingers felt cool and dry in hers. She could tell without looking that they were as long and slender as they always had been.
‘Shall I tell you something?’ he said.
‘Go on.’ She tried to ignore how right his hand felt in hers.
He swallowed and fixed his eyes on hers. ‘You are the big what-if of my life, Lara. Not a day goes by without me wondering what might have happened if we … had I not had to leave.’
Lara listened to his words with growing dismay. Because with them he was voicing the very thoughts she had fought over the years to push to the back of her mind.
‘You shouldn’t have left, then,’ she said.
Jack came across the room and tugged her arm. ‘There’s a big ugly fish down at the bottom, Mummy, look.’
BELLA STOOD ON THE PORCH, REELING FROM HAVING BEEN SO CLOSE
to Stephen Molloy.
Through her father’s work she had met a couple of sort-of famous actors. Two
EastEnders
regulars once came round for dinner – she had been too young to benefit from her dad’s own appearance. And there was that guy from the oven cleaner adverts, and a stage actor she had never seen working, but whose name cropped up frequently in the
Guardian
arts pages, and who she heard on the radio from time to time.
But Stephen Molloy was in a different league. He was super-famous, one of Hollywood’s most bankable stars. Despite his reputation for transforming himself with every role, people recognised him all over the globe; he had legions of adoring fans. And of course she, like everyone else, knew all about the stalker – the story had been well covered in
Heat, Grazia
and those
Daily Mail
showbiz web pages she found herself guiltily drawn to when she should have been doing her homework.
She knew also that her father had known him once; he had always referred to him as ‘the one who made it’, or ‘that lucky cunt Molloy’. But she never, ever thought she’d get to meet him.
The worst part of it was, though, that she had to keep quiet about it. What was the point of meeting a movie star unless you could tell everyone?
Her father was on the other side of the lawn, smoking and chatting with some actors. She could hear his laughter above all the other voices. Olly had gone off in search of beer and, no doubt, a sneaky cigarette of his own. Standing up there alone, she drained her champagne, enjoying the way it made her head feel, as if the bubbles were whizzing around her brain. As she scanned the crowd for one particular face, she tried to remember what else she had read about Stephen Molloy. Wasn’t there some sort of gossip that he was gay? He was often photographed with this or that actress on his arm, but he had never settled down and the word was it was because he preferred the men. Perhaps he did. Perhaps that was why he seemed to be so close with James and Betty.
Then she felt a touch on her shoulder. She wheeled round and Stephen Molloy was forgotten.
‘Hi,’ Sean said. ‘I thought you’d never turn up.’
She glanced up at him and pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. Unable to meet his eyes, she looked down and smoothed out her dress, wondering if she had chosen the right thing to wear. Her short, floral cotton smock was about the only approaching-smart clothing she had that she could bear in all this heat. But it made her look too young. She glanced over at the other people on the lawn, lit now by what must be thousands of fairy lights strung from tree to tree. There were a multitude of styles on display. Some women wore vintage sundresses, others long, floaty numbers. A couple were in jeans with tunic tops. Whatever they wore, they all looked as if they knew what they were doing – the opposite of how Bella felt.