My heart plummets. They all heard me. And they all love Alicia. They would never understand in a million years.
‘Rebecca, I know you didn’t mean that,’ says Alicia at once, in her most syrupy, new-agey voice. ‘You’re at a stressed time in your life, it’s understandable, we’re all here for you …’ She reaches for my hand, and in a slight daze, I let her hold it.
‘Queenie, sweetheart, you’re so understanding!’ exclaims Carola, shooting me daggers.
‘Queenie, are you OK?’ chimes in Sydney as she walks into the parents’ lounge. As the other mothers file past, everyone has a kind word for Alicia and everyone avoids looking at me. It’s like I’ve got an infectious disease.
‘I’m going,’ I mutter, and pull my hand away from Alicia’s cool grasp.
‘Not coming to the talk, Rebecca?’ says Alicia sweetly. ‘You’re very welcome.’
‘Not this time,’ I say, and turn on my heel. ‘Thanks anyway.’ As I stride away down the corridor, my head is high but my face is puce and I’m dangerously near tears. I failed and Alicia won again. How come she won again? How is this fair?
As I get back home, I feel at my lowest ebb since we’ve arrived in LA. It’s all going wrong, in every direction. I’ve failed on my mission to meet Nenita Dietz. I’ve failed on my mission to make lots of new friends. Everyone at Little Leaf will think I’m some awful psycho.
I’m just going into the kitchen and wondering whether to pour myself a glass of wine, when my phone rings. To my surprise, it’s Luke. He doesn’t usually phone in the middle of the day.
‘Becky! How’s it going?’
He sounds so warm and kind and familiar that for an awful moment I think I might burst into tears.
‘I just saw Alicia,’ I say, slumping into a chair. ‘Tried to be digna-dive.’
‘How’d that work out?’
‘Well, you know how you said not to call her an evil witch? I called her an evil witch.’
Luke’s laugh is so hearty and reassuring, I feel better at once.
‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘Just ignore her. You’re so much bigger than her, Becky.’
‘I know, but she’s at school every day, and everyone thinks she’s lovely …’ I trail off feebly. Luke doesn’t really
get
the whole school-gate thing. Whenever he picks Minnie up he strides straight to the door and leads her away and doesn’t even seem to notice that there are any other parents. Let alone what they’re wearing or gossiping about, or what sidelong looks they’re shooting at whom.
‘Are you at home?’ he says now.
‘Yes, just got back. Why, have you forgotten something? D’you want me to bring it in?’
‘No.’ Luke pauses. ‘Now, Becky, I want you to relax.’
‘OK,’ I say, puzzled.
‘Please stay relaxed.’
‘I
am
relaxed!’ I say impatiently. ‘Why do you keep telling me to relax?’
‘Because there’s been a change of plan. I’m coming back home to hold a meeting at the house. With …’ He hesitates. ‘With Sage.’
It’s as if lightning zings through me. I sit bolt upright, every nerve alive. My misery has vanished. Alicia suddenly seems irrelevant to my life. Sage Seymour? Here? What shall I wear? Have I got time to wash my hair?
‘We probably won’t see you,’ Luke’s saying. ‘We’ll probably just go into the library. But I wanted to warn you.’
‘Right,’ I say breathlessly. ‘Do you want me to sort out some snacks? I could make some cupcakes. Quinoa ones,’ I add hastily. ‘I know she likes quinoa.’
‘Darling, you don’t need to make any special effort.’ Luke seems to think for a moment. ‘In fact, maybe you should go out.’
Go out? Go
out
? Is he mad?
‘I’m staying here,’ I say firmly.
‘OK,’ says Luke. ‘Well … I’ll see you in about half an hour.’
Half an hour! I put the phone down and look around the house in sudden dissatisfaction. It doesn’t look nearly cool enough. I should rearrange the furniture. I have to choose the right outfit, too, and do my make-up again … But first things first. I grab my phone and text Suze and Mum, my fingers clumsy with excitement:
Guess what? Sage is coming to our house!!!
Somehow, half an hour later I’m almost ready. I’ve washed my hair and blasted it with the hairdryer, and I’ve got Velcro rollers in (I’ll quickly take them out when I hear the car). I’ve moved the sofas around in the living room and plumped up the cushions. I’m wearing my new slip dress from Anthropologie and I’ve memorized the storylines of all Sage’s forthcoming films, which I Googled.
I have a couple of complete outfits ready for Sage, but I won’t show them to her at once. I don’t want her to feel bombarded. In fact, I’m going to have to do this subtly, as I know Luke won’t appreciate me hijacking his meeting. I’ll just be very casual about it, I decide. I’ll have the brocade coat lying about and she’ll admire it and try it on and it will all snowball from there.
The sound of an engine comes distantly from the front of the house, followed by that of car doors. They’re here! I put up a hand to smooth down my hair – then suddenly remember my Velcro rollers. Quickly I start pulling them out and hurling them one by one behind a big potted plant. I shake out my hair, casually recline on the sofa and grab
Variety
, which is a brilliant accessory as it instantly makes you look like a cool movie person.
I can hear the front door opening. They’re coming in. Stay calm, Becky … stay cool …
‘… go into the library, I thought.’ Luke is speaking. ‘Sage, meet my wife, Becky.’
My face starts prickling as three figures appear round the door. Oh my God. It’s her. It’s her! Right here in this room! She’s smaller than I expected, with tiny bronzed arms and that familiar treacly hair. Clothes: teeny white jeans, orange flats, a little grey vest and The Jacket.
The Jacket
. I can’t believe she’s wearing it! It’s pale, buttery suede and she was wearing it in
US Weekly
last week. It was in ‘Who Wore It Best?’ and she won. Of course she did.
I’ve met Aran before: he’s Sage’s manager. He’s tall and buff and blond, with blue eyes and slanty eyebrows, and kisses me politely in greeting.
‘Hi, Becky,’ Sage says pleasantly. ‘We spoke on the phone, right? For Luke’s party.’
She’s got the most amazing accent. It’s mostly American, but with a hint of French, because her mother’s half-French and she spent her early childhood in Switzerland.
People
magazine once called it ‘the sexiest accent alive’ and I kind of agree.
‘We did,’ I gulp. ‘Yes. Hi.’
I try to think of something else to say … something witty … come on, Becky … but something’s wrong with my head. It’s gone blank. All I can think is,
It’s Sage Seymour! In my living room!
‘You have a nice yard,’ says Sage, as though she’s making a really deep pronouncement.
‘Thank you. We like it.’ Luke strides ahead and pushes open the glass doors to the garden. Sage and Aran follow him out and I follow behind. We all look at the inviting blue of the pool, and I urgently try to think of something to say. But it’s like my brain has been replaced by cotton wool.
‘Shall we sit out here?’ says Luke, gesturing to our outdoor dining table. It has a massive parasol above it and the pool guy hoses it every day to keep it clean.
‘Sure.’ Sage slides gracefully into a chair, followed by Aran.
‘There’s water in the chiller …’ Luke hands bottles around.
‘Can I get anyone coffee?’ Finally I manage to string two words together.
‘No thanks,’ says Aran politely.
‘I think we’re fine, Becky,’ says Luke. ‘Thanks.’ He gives me a nod which I understand. It means,
Leave us alone now
. I’ll just pretend I didn’t see it.
As the three start getting out folders and papers, I hurry back into the house, grab the brocade coat, a belt and a pair of shoes, and zoom back out into the garden. I arrive breathlessly next to Sage and hold the coat out on one arm.
‘I just bought this,’ I say chattily. ‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’
Sage surveys the coat. ‘Cute,’ she says with a nod, and turns back to a page of photocopied press clippings.
‘D’you want to try it on?’ I say casually. ‘I’m sure it’s your size. It would really suit you.’
Sage gives me an absent smile. ‘No, that’s OK,’ she says.
I stare at her in slight shock. It’s so beautiful, I was sure she’d want to try it on. Well, maybe she’s just not into coats.
‘I bought this belt, too.’ I quickly proffer the belt. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’
The belt is from Danny’s new collection. It’s black suede, with three chunky buckles in green resin. You’d put it on over a simple dress and the whole outfit would pop.
‘It’s by Danny Kovitz,’ I tell her. ‘He’s a friend of mine, actually.’
‘Great,’ says Sage, but she makes no move to stroke it or touch it, let alone ask to try it on. This is really not going as I planned.
‘You’re size 6½, aren’t you?’ I say in desperation. ‘I bought these shoes by mistake. Why don’t you have them?’
‘Really?’ She looks at me in surprise, eyeing my bigger feet.
‘Yes! Absolutely! Have them.’ I put them on the table. They’re pale coral-coloured sandals by Sergio Rossi, just very simple and gorgeous. In fact, I covet them myself, and it was really hard buying them in Sage’s size, not mine.
‘Nice.’ At last! Sage is finally showing some interest. She picks up a sandal and turns it this way and that. ‘My sister would love these. We’re the same size. I give her all my cast-offs. Thanks!’
I stare at her, dismayed. Her sister?
Cast-offs?
A thought suddenly occurs to Sage. ‘How come you bought them in the wrong size? Isn’t that weird?’
I’m aware of Luke’s sardonic gaze from across the table.
‘Oh. Right.’ I can feel myself flushing. ‘Well … I got confused between British and American sizing. And I never tried them on. And I can’t take them back.’
‘That’s a shame. Well, thanks!’ She hands the shoes to Aran, who places them in a tote bag at his feet. Feeling crestfallen, I watch them disappear.
She didn’t admire a single thing I’d bought. She didn’t suggest shopping together, or ask for advice on her next red-carpet appearance, or any of my fantasies. I can’t help feeling dispirited. But I’m not going to give up. Maybe I just need to get to know her a bit better.
Luke is circulating a sheet headed
Agenda
. Everyone’s ignoring me. I can’t hover near the table any more. But I
can’t
just go tamely back inside the house. Maybe … I’ll sunbathe. Yes, good idea. I hurry into the house and collect
Variety
from the living room, then nonchalantly walk to a sunbed about ten feet away from the table and sit down on it. Luke glances up with a slight frown, but I ignore him. I’m allowed to sunbathe in my own garden, aren’t I?
I open
Variety
and read some piece about the future of 3D franchises, while trying to listen in on the conversation at the table. The trouble is, they’re all talking so
quietly
. Mum always complains that modern movie stars mumble, and I have to agree. I can’t hear anything Sage is saying. She should have some proper speech and drama lessons. She should project!
Luke is being equally discreet, and the only one whose voice is resonating through the garden is Aran. Even so, I’m only catching the odd intriguing word.
‘… brand … positioning … Cannes … next year … Europe …’
‘I agree,’ chimes in Luke. ‘But …
mumble mumble
… big budget … Academy Awards …’
Academy Awards? My ears prick up. What about the Academy Awards? God, I wish there were subtitles.
‘You know what?’ says Sage with sudden animation. ‘Fuck them. They’re a …
mumble mumble
… Pippi Taylor … well, their choice …’
I’m nearly falling off my sunbed, trying to hear. It said in the
Hollywood Reporter
last week that Sage Seymour had lost out to Pippi Taylor in the last three roles she’d gone for. It also said that Sage was on a ‘downward slide’, not that I would mention this. I think that’s why she’s hired Luke – to help turn things round for her.
‘… Lois Kellerton situation …’
‘… have to ignore Lois Kellerton, Sage.’
Lois Kellerton
. I sit up straighter, my mind working frantically. Now I remember. There’s some old feud between Sage and Lois Kellerton. Isn’t there a clip of them on YouTube, yelling at each other backstage at an awards ceremony? But I can’t remember what it’s all about.
‘Ignore that bitch?’ Sage’s voice rises indignantly. ‘After everything she did to me? Are you kidding? She’s a …
mumble mumble
…’
‘… not relevant …’
‘… totally relevant!’
Oh, I can’t bear it. For once, I have something to contribute to the conversation! I
can’t
keep quiet any longer.
‘I met Lois Kellerton!’ I blurt out. ‘I met her when we were out here house-hunting.’
‘Oh, really?’ Sage glances briefly up towards me. ‘Poor you.’
‘I didn’t know that, Becky.’ Luke looks surprised.
‘Yes, well. It was quite bizarre. You’ll never
guess
what she was doing.’ I feel a flash of triumph as Sage finally gives me her full attention.
‘What was that maniac doing?’
‘She was …’
I hesitate for a moment as Lois’s pale, tense face flashes through my mind. Her pleading voice. Her hand on mine. I did promise to keep her secret, I think uncomfortably. And I’ve kept that promise until now. (Except telling Suze. That doesn’t count.)
But on the other hand, why should I protect her? She was breaking the law. Exactly. Exactly! I should really have marched her to the nearest police station. And then she tried to bribe me. Well, I’m not someone who can be bribed. No way. Not Becky Brandon. Besides which …
I mean, the point is …
OK. The real, honest truth is, I’m desperate to keep Sage’s attention.
‘She was shoplifting!’ The words pop out of my mouth before I can think about it any more. And if I wanted a reaction, I’m not disappointed.
‘No way.’ Sage’s eyes flash, and she bangs the table with her hand. ‘No
way
.’
‘Shoplifting?’
says Aran, in astonishment.
‘Come here. Come!’ Sage pats the chair beside her. ‘Tell us all about it.’