The Reluctant Celebrity (18 page)

TUESDAY,
FEBRUARY 25
^TH

GUY
RAUNCHSON

Guy
Rawson may have thrown his towel in for modelling but the 27-year old hasn’t
lost his trademark sexy bod or his touch with the ladies based on the smiles of
these lucky gals.

Last
week’s hot tub romp, pictured above, is just one of Guy’s celebration nights
after hitting the top spot with his debut single, ‘Regret’.

The
star, also rumoured to be dating celeb publicist Sonja Morton, said: “Of course
I’m celebrating, who wouldn’t be? This is a great time for me.”

She
threw herself towards the bathroom, barely making it in time to lift the pink
woollen seat cover and watch the
Curly Whirly
and orange juice make an
untimely return to the world.

‘Shit,’
Jules said aloud as the retching subsided.

A
sticky fever had cloaked her skin, mingled with a dizziness that left her
feeling detached and floaty.

Only
when she knelt by the sink and splashed the cold water against her face did the
anger consume her.

He
had left his toothbrush. The blue and white neck leant intimately against hers.
Snatching it from the holder she threw it in the bin as a white heat raged
through her.

He
had done it to her again.

It
had all been one big game. A pathetic ego boosting mission. The minute Guy had
won his prize he had left.

Her
entire face flamed red as she recalled his lies. How easily she had believed
them. Every word he had whispered to her late into the night; every kiss – it
had meant nothing to him. The only person Guy was capable of loving was
himself.

What
a fool she had been, Jules thought as angry hot tears pricked at her eyelids.
She clamped her teeth together until she heard the crunch of enamel.

She
would not cry.

Twisting
the iron taps of the shower, Jules stripped off her clothes and stepped under
the scolding water; grateful for the painful water pricks against her skin as
she washed away every trace of him.

The
waves of fury refused to fade as Jules tied her damp hair into a tight
ponytail. Her hatred towards Guy a minuscule part of the disgust she felt
towards herself. The knowledge that she had made the same mistake she’d made
five years ago infuriated her more than she could endure.

‘Bastard,’
Jules said to the empty room as she threw on her clothes.     

She
had wasted enough time on him. Now she needed to work.

Using
an out of date mottled-brown telephone directory she’d discovered in Mrs
Beckwith’s downstairs hallway, Jules picked up her mobile and started dialling.
It took three attempts before she found a window glazing company still in
business.

‘Robert
Winter’s Glazing, Bob speaking.’

‘Hello.
I have a broken window pane in the back door of a property I’m redeveloping,’
Jules began in a rushed voice. ‘I’d like it replaced with double glazing as
soon as possible please.’

‘Right
love, let me just take some details from you and I’ll see what we can do. Can I
take your name, address and contact number please?’

Jules
reeled off her details and tapped her foot impatiently as Bob talked her
through a very detailed price list.

‘That
sounds fine,’ Jules managed to cut in eventually. ‘When can you do it?’  

‘Right
let’s see then. I can send someone out to look at it early next week. There’s
no call out charge for that. And we can get the pane ordered and fitted
by...let’s say the seventh of March.’

‘I
was really hoping to have it done this week. Any chance you could send someone
out today.’

‘Um,’
the voice on the other end of the line huffed. ‘Well you see Ms Stewart, as I’m
sure you can appreciate, one pane of glass is not a high priority for us. I
mean, if it was a larger job then of course we would shuffle some things
around, and-’

‘Right,’
Jules cut him off. She knew exactly what he was getting at. ‘How about this.
You send someone out today and fix my back door by the end of this week, and I
will put an order in to double glaze the rest of the house next week.’

‘Um,’
he said again. ‘Well whatdya know, I’ve just this minute had a cancellation and
can come myself this afternoon.’

‘Thank
you.’ She hung up.

Jules
ignored the flutter of nerves at the thought of her rapidly shrinking bank
balance and dialled the number of the staircase supplier Terri had given her.
For a reason Jules had no intention of dwelling on, time was suddenly of the
essence.

Running
into the same slow schedule and with no additional orders to act as an
incentive, Jules had no choice but to offer the staircase manager a cash in
hand bonus for delivery and fitting by the end of the week.

Finally,
she scrolled through her phonebook until she found Terri’s number. Taking a
deep breath she pressed the call button before she could change her mind. On
top of everything else she wasn’t sure she could handle her Terri’s friendly
concern.

‘Helloooo,’
Terri chirped on the third ring.

‘Hi
Terri, it’s Jules.’

‘Hello
Lovey. How are you getting on? I didn’t see you at the pub last night; mind you
it was chocker block in there. Did you and Guy manage to sort things out?’

‘Not
exactly. But I’ve spoken to a glazer,’ Jules carried on. ‘Someone will be
popping over this afternoon to do some measurements. And I’ve ordered the
staircase we talked about, it should be fitted in the next few days. So if
you’re okay to stay at the house today and continue with the clear up, I’m
going to get some paint and supplies in.’

‘Blimey,
there’s no stopping you is there.’ Terri laughed. ‘That’s fine Lovey. You’ll be
pleased to hear that Dan is just loading up the last of the wood from the
stairs. And I’ve set Jason loose on the garden, I hope that’s okay?’

‘Yes
that’s perfect thank you.’ Despite her mood, Jules felt a wisp of relief for
Terri, Dan and Jason. She had no idea where she’d be without them.

‘And
I thought I might take a crack at cleaning up the kitchen a bit. Those
cupboards still seem in pretty good nick, if we could take the paint off them,
they might look half decent.’

‘You’re
a lifesaver Terri,’ Jules said.

‘Oh
I almost forgot to ask,’ Terri paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Did
you come up to the house last night?’

‘No.
Why?’

‘It’s
my tools. They’ve been moved around.’

‘What
do you mean? Is anything missing?’

‘No.
Everything is still here as far as I can tell, but well...I’m a very tidy
person. I always make sure all the tools are packed up before we leave. But
this morning I came in and they’ve all been unpacked.’ Her voice dropped
another decibel, ‘I found my hammer in the kitchen.’

‘Have
you asked Dan and Jason? I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation.’

‘They
swear blind it wasn’t them.’

‘Terri,
it’s okay. Like you said nothing’s missing. Did you work later than usual last
night?’

‘Yes,
a little.’

‘There
you go then. You probably left in a bit of a rush so you could make it to the
pub on time and forgot to pack them away.’

‘I
guess,’ Terri replied, her tone still doubtful. ‘So you don’t think it could be
the ghost?’

Jules
laughed despite herself. ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘You’re
right,’ Terri concluded with an attempt at a chuckle. ‘But what am I thinking?  Are
you sure you’re okay? I’m free tonight if you fancied another little chat?’

‘Thanks
Terri, but I’m fine. Gotta go, I’ve got a call waiting,’ she lied, hanging up
the phone and rubbing a hand against her forehead.

It
didn’t seem possible that only a few hours ago she was lying in bed with Guy.
Pushing the thought aside, Jules threw on her jacket and headed for her car.

She
did not allow her mind to drift into autopilot this time. Instead she drove to
the biggest DIY store she could find and forced herself to concentrate.

As
the day wore on, Jules found herself cramming giant cans of white paint,
brushes, rollers, light fittings, wall sockets and every other item she could
think of into the boot of her car.

The
trip serving only to impact her bank balance, but not her mood.

No
matter how hard she fought it, she could not stop her thoughts from wandering
back to Guy. First to the excitement and happiness she’d felt in his arms, and
then like a painful static charge, she felt the shock of truth travel through
her, causing anger to flash in colourful blotches before her eyes.

She
couldn’t wait to climb into bed that night and forget the last forty-eight
hours had ever happened, Jules thought as drove back through the countryside
towards Cottinghale.

At a
few minutes past six, with the sky already an inky black, she pulled into the
empty driveway of her house, her headlights bouncing against the windows. 

Suddenly,
a shiver raced along her spine. From the corner of her eye, she saw something
move inside the house. Her mind alert with adrenaline, Jules switched off the
engine and held her breath. It couldn’t be Terri, Dan or Jason, or their van
would be in the driveway, she reasoned.

Who
else had a key?

No
one, a voice inside her head answered as another shiver ran through her, taking
over her entire upper body.

 Minutes
ticked by as Jules sat like a statue, her gaze glued to the downstairs windows
as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

Only
as her heart began to slow to a normal pace again did Jules realise that she’d
imagined the whole thing. The headlights from her car had caught the metal on
the ladder, or one of Terri’s tools, causing a flicker in her peripheral vision,
she reasoned.

The
quicker she unloaded the car, the quicker she could go back to the guesthouse
and go to sleep, she reminded herself.       

Retrieving
two large tins of white paint from the back seat, Jules made her way towards
the front door. But before she could dig her keys out from the depths of her
jacket pocket, another movement caught her eye. A shadowy figure had crossed by
the living room window. There was no mistaking it this time.

Jules
set the paint tins onto the ground, dropping them the last few inches and
causing a loud clatter to echo out into the still surroundings. Stepping
backwards, Jules stumbled out of the driveway, her eyes never leaving the
windows.

She
had no rational explanation for her behaviour, but she did not turn around
until the curve of the lane had swallowed the view of the house, and even then
she found herself looking back over her shoulder every few steps.

It
was not until she reached the guesthouse that Jules remembered that she hadn’t
locked her car. Not to mention the fact that she’d left two paint tins in the
middle of the driveway.

On
any other day she would have gone back. Correction, on any other day she would
have stormed into the house and confronted the intruder, but something she
could not explain had stopped her. 

Only
when she stepped into Mrs Beckwith’s warm kitchen and breathed in the rich
aromas of Lamp Hotpot did the creeping sensation tickling the back of her neck
disappear.

Grabbing
a thick dish cloth, Jules removed the plate from the oven. Without bothering to
take off her jacket or even sit down, she tucked in, gulping down the food as
fast as her mouth could chew it.

As
she swallowed the last hot delicious mouthful, it suddenly occurred to her what
an idiot she’d been.

Terri
and her nonsense superstitions about the house being haunted had been lurking
at the back of her mind. It had mixed with her overwrought emotions and given her
the spooks over nothing. 

Now
that she thought about, she was sure she’d heard a car pass through the lane as
she’d stepped towards the house. The beam from the headlights must have
flickered through the trees, reflecting on the window like her own had done, Jules
reasoned as she washed the plate and made her way up the stairs to bed.

She
would have to go back first thing in the morning and move the paint tins before
Terri arrived.

As Jules’
hand twisted the handle on her bedroom door she heard movement from across the
hallway.  

The
bastard was back, she realised. Her heart thundered with renewed anger as the
image of Guy’s hot tub photograph jumped to the front of her mind.

Without
stopping to think she turned on her heels and threw open the door opposite her
own with such force that it bounced against the wall and launched back towards
her as she sprung into the room. .

‘Just
who do you think you are?’ Jules yelled, her feet grinding to a halt as she
realised her mistake.

Standing
in the exact spot where Guy had stood just one day earlier was a woman in her
early twenties, Jules guessed, with a large cleavage and jet-black hair cropped
into a sloping bob. She was wearing shiny black leggings and a short black and
white stripy t-shirt dress, which made Jules think she was definitely not from
the area.

 ‘Excuse
me?’ the woman laughed as she turned to face Jules.

‘Shit
I am so sorry. I thought someone else was staying here.’

‘Hey
don’t worry about it. I was beginning to think Mrs Beckwith was the only person
around here. I’m Becky by the way, and you must be Jules?’

 ‘Err
yes, how did you know?’ Jules asked with a sudden suspicion towards the woman
standing opposite her.

‘The
landlady mentioned you when she showed me around, but I guess she didn’t have a
chance to talk to you. God knows how I came across this place. My sat nav had
some kind of severe malfunction and took me a completely bonkers route. I’m
supposed to be at a Human Resources conference in Birmingham right now.

‘Then
my radiator conked out too and it was just by some serious good luck that I happened
to be passing this house at the time and the old lady offered me a cup of tea
and the number of a mechanic. But of course, they couldn’t fix it straight
away, so I’m stuck here until tomorrow morning,’ Becky finished with a grin.   

‘Oh
right. Well anyway, sorry again for barging in here. Have a nice evening,’
Jules replied before turning to leave.

She
felt suddenly deflated as the anger that had welled inside her moments earlier
slid away.

 ‘Actually,’
Becky began. ‘I don’t suppose you know anywhere around here I can get a drink
do you? It’s just after the day I’ve had I’d murder a glass of wine.’

‘There’s
a pub about five minutes walk further down the lane.’

‘Super.
So it’s left out of here is it? And then do I just carry on walking? Do I need
a torch or anything? I never knew it could be so dark outside. Sorry that’s a
silly thing to say isn’t it?’

‘You
should be okay. There’s a row of houses set a bit back from the lane. They
usually have the porch lights on so you can see where you’re going.’

‘I
don’t suppose you fancy joining me do you? I hate drinking alone and knowing
me, I’d wander off the road and end up face down in a ditch.’

‘Thanks,
but I’ve had a pretty rubbish day myself and I really just want to go to bed.’

‘Yeah
of course, I understand. If you’re sure? A drink might be just what you need.’

‘Err,’
Jules searched her mind for another excuse.

But
before she could say anything, Becky stepped forward. ‘Great, that settles it
then. I’ll just grab my bag.’

She
hadn’t actually agreed, had she? Jules wondered. Then she thought of Rich’s
mind-numbing cocktails and shrugged. One drink, or maybe two, could be just
what she needed, and by the looks of it, Becky would be doing all the talking
anyway.

‘Let’s
go,’ Becky grinned, flashing a set of bright white teeth.

 ‘Wow
this is lush,’ Becky said as they stepped into the empty pub. ‘It’s so quaint.’

‘Hey
Max,’ Jules said with relief as the young Springer Spaniel jumped up to say
hello. A headache had begun to wind its way across Jules’ forehead thanks to non-stop
jabbering from her companion, she thought.

‘Oh
a dog,’ Becky stammered, taking a step back.

‘It’s
okay he’s very friendly,’ Rich said, stepping out from behind the bar. ‘The
worst thing he’s likely to do is slobber on you, isn’t that right Jules.’

‘Yep,’
she agreed, smiling sheepishly at Rich. With everything that had happened with
Guy, she had completely forgotten what a fool she’d made of herself outside the
pub the evening before.

‘But
hey, if you’d rather I stuck him upstairs, it’s no problem.’

‘Thanks,
it’s just I’ve got a real phobia against dogs, and this bag is a
Mui Mui
,’
she replied, holding up a shiny red handbag and flashing Rich a smile.

‘Sure.
Take a seat, and I’ll be back in a minute with your drinks. What are you
having?’ he asked, staring at Jules.

‘Large
dry white wine for me,’ Becky replied.

‘Um,
red for me, thanks Rich.’ Jules added.

Rich
continued to stare at her, his eyebrows raised and his eyes moving strangely,
as if he was trying to signal something to her.

Becky
slid towards a table in the corner, placing her bag in the centre whilst Rich
continued to stare, raising his eyebrows another notch higher. ‘You sure you
don’t want to come up to the bar for a sec Jules and pick something else out?’

‘No
thanks, I think I’ll stick to red wine tonight,’ she replied, shrugging her
shoulders and giving a small shake of her head.

She
had no idea what Rich was getting at. No doubt he just wanted to check on her,
she decided, following Becky to the table.

Only
when they had the second glass of wine in front of them did Becky stop talking.
Jules had zoned out after the first five minutes of her relentless chatter.
Something to do with someone called Nathan and a failure to commit. She didn’t
particularly care, but the distraction and the wine was serving its purpose.

Suddenly,
as if a switch had been flipped, Becky shut up and turned her attention onto
Jules.

‘So,
how long have you been staying here?’

 ‘Oh,’
Jules said, startled by the change in conversation. ‘A couple of weeks.’

‘It’s
a pretty remote place to have a holiday isn’t it? You must be bored stiff.’

‘No
I’m not on holiday. I’ve bought a house here actually. I’m a property developer.
I’m just staying at Mrs Beckwith’s until my house is in a fit state to live in.’

‘Really?
That’s so interesting. Are you planning to stay here for good then?’

‘Probably
not,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll be moving on once it’s finished.’

‘Yeah,
I can see why. It’s a bit of a shit hole isn’t it? Aren’t the people really
nosy in places like this? It must drive you nuts.’

‘I
thought the same thing,’ Jules said, smiling for the first time at Becky. ‘But
everyone is so friendly. It’s a real community kind of place.’

‘So
people don’t stick their noses in then?’

Jules
laughed. ‘Well they do a bit, but it’s only because they care and want to help.
I thought my builders were a bunch of interfering hillbilly’s when I first met
them, but they are actually really hard working. I don’t know where I’d be
without them.’

‘What
about the bloke behind the bar,’ Becky winked at Jules. ‘Something going on
between you two?’

‘Err
no. Rich is lovely, but he’s not my type. Besides I think he thinks I’m a piss
head with serious relationship issues. Or I would if I was him anyway.’

‘Really
why?’ Becky asked, leaning forward and nudging her bag closer towards Jules.

‘Nothing,
don’t worry.’

‘God
sorry, would you look at me. Now who’s the nosy one? You don’t have to talk
about it.’

No,
it’s just...’ Jules sighed and rubbed a hand against her jaw. It ached to the
point of painful. She took a long sip of wine before continuing. ‘You are going
to think I’m crazy, but for the past few weeks a tabloid newspaper has been
writing stories about me.’

‘Oh
my God, that’s so exciting. Which one?’

‘
The
Daily
.’

Becky
giggled. ‘Wow. I can’t say I’ve ever read it but still, it’s pretty massive.
Why are they interested in you?’

‘I
used to date Guy Rawson,’ Jules mumbled.

‘No
way, that is so cool. Here let me get you another drink and you HAVE to tell me
everything. I can’t believe I’ve been wittering on about myself all this time.’

It
took Jules thirty minutes and another glass of wine before she finished
explaining the events of the past few weeks to Becky.

She
would not have thought it possible, but confiding in a complete stranger felt
surprisingly good.

‘Wow,’
Becky said again when she’d finished. ‘That’s pretty hardcore.’

Jules
nodded.  

‘So
you must really hate Guy for the way he’s treated you? I’d want to kill him if
it was me.’

‘Yesh.
He is a pathetic manipulative worm. I could strangle him,’ she cried out as the
effect of the alcohol hit her. ‘Ist not just him’ she continued with a slight
slur, ‘I hate them all. All men are bastards put on this earth to destroy us.’

‘Too
right,’ Becky laughed. ‘To the bastards.’ She raised her almost empty glass to
Jules.

‘Bastards.’
Jules repeated, dropping her head to her hands as she realised how drunk she
was. She’d had way too much wine. What was she thinking? ‘I’d better get back.
I’ve got loads of work to do tomorrow,’

‘Good
idea, let’s go,’ Becky replied, grabbing her bag.

The
cold night air had a sobering effect as they stumbled their way back up the
lane. To Jules’ surprise and relief, Becky’s earlier nattering had been
replaced with silence.

By
the time they made it to the guesthouse an inebriating exhaustion had wrapped
itself around her. With a short wave goodbye and a promise to meet for
breakfast, Jules stepped into her room, shrugged off her clothes and climbed
into bed.

She
could still smell Guy’s body on the sheets.

Only
then did Jules allow the silent tears to fall as the memories of the previous
night circled around her drunken thoughts.