Protection (18 page)

And there they had left it. An unspoken agreement never to talk about it slowly paving the way back to peace but never building quite a strong enough road for Andrea to dare risk taking anyone home to meet them. Too afraid her father would never be able to last the encounter without making some sort of sarcastic comment and ruin everything. Quite how they were going to react when they found out about herself and Carrie, was anybody's guess? Especially when they lived in a little, Welsh village where everyone knew everyone else's business and keeping secrets was nigh on impossible.

Her father would probably try though, and if he didn't give himself a stroke in the process, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

Then there was Carrie's family? How would they receive the news? Would they be surprised, angry, resigned? She couldn't imagine they'd be happy to discover their beautiful, talented offspring was gay. Life just didn't work that way.

Applause, loud and generous, thundered across the studio and Andrea quickly scanned the audience. Noticing for the first time, that the pensioners had indeed been ousted in favour of an audience that were either gay themselves or if not, sympathetic to the cause. They were certainly clapping hard enough and positively grinning at Carrie, who mouthing her thanks, blushed furiously and appeared to be half crushed by Patrick Westfield, who desperate to get on in the act, hugged her to his manly chest.

The ride home was subdued and quiet and sinking into the soft, leather seat, Carrie closed her eyes. She felt like a piece of meat, and having refused point blank to take Carmichael's congratulatory call, had rested her head on Andrea's shoulder, content to do nothing but doze until they reached home.

But home didn't turn out to be quite the haven of peace she'd hoped for and no sooner had they drawn up when Amanda rushed out to meet them. Ushering them quickly into the hall and shusshing them when they attempted to speak.

“Why? What's going on?”Carrie wanted to know. “And why are we whispering?”

“It's your parents.”Amanda said, pointing at the closed door to the lounge. “They turned up while you were at the studio. I told them you were out, but they asked if they could wait. I didn't know what else to do.”

Carrie's face fell. “My parents are here?!”She cried. “Shit! How did they seem? Angry? Upset?”

“Hard to tell. They were polite enough to me, but I suppose they would be. I could tell your mother had been crying though, and your father looked worried. I took them in tea and coffee, but that was about an hour ago. Since then I haven't heard a peep.”

“Okay, thanks for that Amanda. Shit! I can't believe they're actually here!”

Andrea caught her arm. “I'll come in with you if you like.”She offered, her own face lined with worry. “You know, get it over with in one, fell swoop.”

Carrie shook her head. “Thanks babe, but I think it might be better if I speak to them alone to start with. Where will you be?”

“In the kitchen with Amanda I expect, and if you need me, just shout, okay? Good luck sweetheart, I'm sure it'll be fine.”

Sitting in the armchair, her cup of coffee growing cold on her lap, Carrie anxiously faced her parents and struggled for the right thing to say.

The problem was, she had been caught totally unaware by her parents'sudden arrival and nowhere in her imaginary manual entitled ‘ Things your parents are most likely to sling at you', could she find anything to help.

Especially when they had thrown her such a wobbler.

Recrimination? Sure. She could have handled that. Tears and soul searching and the useless laying on of blame? No problem. They were all arguments she'd had with herself many times. But hugs and reassurance and indications that they'd suspected Carrie had been gay all along. How did she handle that?

Her mother had tried to help. Explaining how you didn't watch your child growing up without picking up on some of the clues. She'd seen the way Carrie had looked at certain girls and the way her gaze had lingered just a little too long over certain actresses. She'd never spoken of weddings and children either, at least not in the way the rest of her friends had and they'd both noticed the distinct lack of boyfriends.

Then why hadn't they said anything earlier?

Because they'd wanted Carrie to make up her own mind without any undue pressure from them. Of course they would have been delighted if Carrie had brought home a boyfriend and gone on, perhaps, to have a big, white wedding, but it was never going to be the end of the world if she didn't. It was her life after all, not theirs, and the only thing they'd ever really wanted was for her to be happy.

“So why all the tears?”Carrie asked, once her mother had finished. “Amanda.. that's my housekeeper.. said you were in floods. I thought I'd really upset you.”

Her father chuckled. “Your mother's got conjunctivitis.”He said. “Her poor eyes have been running all week on and off and we didn't want to say too much to er.. Amanda, what with her being staff and all that.”

“Amanda's a lot more than just staff.”Carrie smiled. ‘ But thank you. Thank you for being so understanding, for being so honest, for..everything! I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here.”

Not to mention humbled, she added to herself. To think of all those times I tried to force you down here to come to some stupid party or other, and then, when you wouldn't come, believing it was because you didn't care. How wrong could I be. You do care. It's just that you care about the things that really matter.

Dabbing at her weeping eyes, her mother smiled. “You're still our little girl, you know, when all's said and done. I'm just sorry it took something like this to get us to visit you. This is such a lovely house. How many bedrooms does it have?”

Enough.”Carrie replied. “And I hope you'll put one of them to good use by staying tonight, after I've shown you around, of course. But first I'd like you to meet someone.”

Andrea was nervous. She didn't want to be. Lord know, she didn't want to be. But she was. Very.

“They'll love you.”Carrie said, dragging her from the kitchen and trying her best to be reassuring. “What happened to the girl who offered to go in there to get it over with?”

“I've had time to think about it?”

“Okay, fair enough, but you're still worrying about nothing. Just go in there, be yourself and I promise you, they'll love you.”

“Yeah. That's easy for you to say.”Andrea said. “They're your parents. But I'm going to feel like I'm on parade. I haven't a clue what to say to them.”

“Well, try hello for starters and see how you go from there. Come on, babe, this isn't like you. Where's my big, strong bodyguard?”

“Hiding beneath my rib cage I think, judging on how my heart's protesting. But if I've got to do this, then let's do it. Before I run away and hide.”

Carrie's father stood up the moment they entered the room and striding across the carpet, offered Andrea his hand.

Aware of his close scrutiny, she shook it firmly.

“So?”He said, looking her up and down. “You're the young lady my daughter has fallen in love with are you?”

A last day of peace, Carrie thought, before she threw herself into the melee known as Christmas and people she hardly knew called her ‘darling' and superciliously kissed the air on either side of her face, and Carmichael, racing into ‘agent overdrive', ushered her to every festive party possible, forcing her to pretend that everything was wonderful and everyone was wonderful and that she was truly having a great time!

What a laugh! And to think Christmas was supposedly a time for relaxing and putting your feet up. The only way she was likely to get horizontal was if she collapsed with exhaustion and they had to carry her off on a stretcher and even then she doubted if she'd get any rest. Knowing Carmichael he'd be at her side in an instant, chatting up the nurses and busily arranging for her to do an interview for hospital radio!

Death was probably her only real chance of getting any peace around here and that would only work providing Carmichael couldn't get hold of an ouija board.

But at least he couldn't reach her here.

In her bathroom. Submerged beneath a warm sanctuary of bubbles.

She adored baths. Adored the peace even more. Her usual habit of a quick shower and on with the day sacrificed for a few minutes respite in which other people really did feel they couldn't disturb her.

Which, thinking about it, was bloody sad really. The idea that she had to run a bath just to get a minute to herself.

Maybe she should speak to Carmichael about it. Get him to reduce her workload.

Topping up the hot water, she slid down until only her head remained visible and sighed appreciatively. Only three days until the party and tomorrow was going to be busy, busy, busy. The decorators were coming in to do wonders with tinsel and baubles, Andrea was due to inspect the troops and Amanda had declared her intention to hide in the kitchen, in case the ‘terrible mess' the furniture and carpets were left in made her stressed.

But all that was for tomorrow. Today, after she'd said farewell to her parents, who'd been absolutely wonderful with Andrea and who, despite her best efforts to convince them to stay for the party , had chosen to return to Wiltshire, she was due to appear on yet another chat show and then - oh God - she had to spend all afternoon with one of those awful ‘ Stars in their Homes' magazines. Another of Carmichael's bright ideas and one in which he had steadfastly refused to see that the magazine wasn't so much interested in her fixtures and fittings, or where she ate her breakfast, as they were in getting an photograph of her and Andrea together. An ‘exclusive' they could splash all over the front cover and congratulate themselves on being the first to accomplish.

A plan Carrie was adamant was destined to fail.

Andrea was planning to spend all afternoon locked in her office and as far as the magazine was concerned, strictly out of bounds!

Half an hour later, and standing in the hallway, Carrie said goodbye to her parents.

Her father embraced her warmly, smiling at Andrea over her shoulder.

“You two have fun this Christmas.”He said. “And if anyone gives you any stick, just let me know and I'll come right over and sort them!”

Her mother laughed. “I wouldn't count on it!”She said. “This is the man who runs away if a bunch of cows looks at him funny!”

“Some of them beggars are bloody big!”Her father retorted. “And let's not forget who had a panic attack over that goose in the car park! But I'm serious love. Don't you take any notice of what folk say. You just ignore them and if they keep on, I'll come down and bore them to death with my vast knowledge of fertilizers.”

Smiling, Carrie squeezed him tight. “Do you have to go?”She asked, addressing the pair of them.”It's been great having you both here and it's such a long drive back toWiltshire. Please stay. I'd love to have you at the party.”

“I know love.”Her mother replied. “But we'd prefer to have Christmas at home. Nothing against you or your friends, but I think your dad and me might find it all a bit much, all that glamour and things. Perhaps we can come down in the New Year though? When all the fuss has died down. We could go shopping in the sales.”

“Okay, you're on! But you don't have to wait for the sales, mum. If there's anything you need....”

“We don't need anything love.”Her father cut in. “It's just your mother. She loves a good bargain.”

“Look who's talking! Who was it who dragged me half way round every DIY store in Wiltshire simply because he swore blind he'd seen that garden bench we wanted advertised for twenty quid cheaper somewhere? Hours we spent looking for that wretched thing and we never found it! I tell you..”

They were still arguing when Carrie deposited them into the car and waved them off.

She missed them almost immediately.

The chat show wasn't quite the ordeal she'd expected. It had been set up in haste for one thing, in light of Carrie's sudden disclosure, and because of this there was no live audience. Just Carrie, the crew and the interviewer; Hilary Channing.

A fey sort of woman with a penchant for chunky earrings who eased Carrie through the questions and left Carrie thinking that whoever had researched them had done a fair and interesting job. A compliment she passed onto Hilary, who accepted it on behalf of the researcher and promised to pass it on again.

Then, after personally making sure both Carrie and Andrea reached their car, even though the weather was freezing, she briefly raised an eyebrow at the size of Brick and hurried back inside again. Her breath streaming out in front of her as she briskly rubbed her hands together.

As usual the London traffic was fraught. The roads crammed with the usual mixture of commuters, bewildered tourists and taxi drivers who typically viewed the Highway code as a work of fiction and cut up everything in sight.

Road works didn't help much either, and the traffic was stuck in a perpetual stop and go, the pneumatic brakes of buses and lorries hissing loudly everytime they had reason to pull up.

Fed up with all of it, Carrie gazed out of the limousine window and scowled at three workman in orange hard-hats, who standing around a large crater in the middle of the road, were clearly doing nothing more productive than working on chipped mugs of tea.

Brick noticed them too and frustrated, glared at them as they came abreast, receiving nothing in return but a broad grin as the workmen raised their mugs in salute and made no effort to disguse the fact they were trying to peer in.

“Gorgeous, aren't they?”Andrea quipped. “If anyone ever asks me why it is I don't fancy blokes, there's the answer.”

Carrie giggled and with the car finally driving around the obstruction and beginning to pick up speed, she sighed with relief, hoping that with a little luck, Brick might be able to put his foot down and get them home before the dreaded team from ‘ Famous Furnishings' arrived.