The Reluctant Celebrity (20 page)

WEDNESDAY,
FEBRUARY 26
^TH

STAR
FACES DEATH THREAT FROM OLD LOVE RAT

JUICY
JULES: “I WANT TO KILL GUY”

Former
top model, Guy Rawson, is facing death threats from ex-girlfriend, Juliet
Stewart, after a night of passion.

This
week,
The Daily
has been reporting on the lives of four poor fellas’
man-hating Juliet destroyed, but now there is a new twist to our story. Just
days after Juicy Jules admits to “the most passionate and exciting night of my
life...” with the sexy singer she has gone 360
⁰
and speaking to our
star reporter Sara-Marie Francis, Juliet claims: “Guy is pathetic, if I ever
see him again I will kill him.””

Police
are now investigating the threat further and are thought to be planning to
question love rat Juliet in the coming days. Metropolitan Police Commander,
Raymond Skelinski, said: “The MET investigates all death threats deemed to be
real, and are in the process of speaking to Mr Rawson’s security team to
establish more details on this matter.”

But
beware it is not just Guy this gal is out to get. Juliet also has a thing or
two to say about her neighbours in the quaint village of Cottinghale: “All they
do is stick their noses in. My builders are Hillbillies..., the pub owner’s an
alcoholic..., and everyone else in this sh*t hole are deranged. I can’t wait to
leave.”

Sexy star,
Guy, could not be available for comment after his sister was rushed to hospital
on Monday night with pregnancy complications. The caring singer has cancelled
all engagements and set up vigil by his sister’s bedside.
 

Jules
scrunched her eyelids shut as she fought with the overwhelming desire to
scream.

A
flood of emotions hit her like punch, pricking her eyes with tears. She slumped
against the work surface, allowing her body to slip to the dirty lino as
everything clicked into place.

Becky
appearing from nowhere and begging her to go for a drink. The incessant talking
early on, lulling her into a false sense of friendship, encouraging her to have
another glass of wine, and then another.

How
could she have been such an idiot?

Jules
scanned back over the article and thought back to her hazy recollection of
their talk. Becky, or whatever or her name was, must have been recording
everything, Jules realised, recalling the designer bag Becky had placed so
carefully on the table between them.

Every
word she’d spoken had been twisted and manipulated until it made her seem like
a monster.

No
wonder Terri hadn’t turned up, Jules realised as angry tears flooded down her
cheeks. They would have picked up
The Daily
on their way to the house,
seen the awful things she’d said about then and turned straight back around.

Everyone
in Cottinghale must hate her.

As
anger and frustration burnt inside her, Jules clasped the newspaper in her
hands, pulling it taught as she prepared to shred into tiny pieces. But just as
the first tear travelled along the centre of the page a small caption, almost
hidden next to an advert for cheap electrical goods, caught her gaze.

APOLOGIES TO GUY RAWSON

The
Daily
would like to apologise to
Guy Rawson for photographs of the singer published in yesterday’s edition. We
reported that the former model had been celebrating his recent singing success
by spending time in a hot tub with five glamour models. We have since learnt
that the photograph was taken from one of the star’s videos “A goodbye fool”
recorded for his album last month. We apologise unreservedly to Guy and his
fans.

Jules
wiped a hand across her eyes, clearing the tears from her vision, and read the paragraph
over and over, until horror replaced her disbelief.

In
one frantic movement, she twisted her body to the side, digging her fingers
into the back pocket of her jeans until she touched the jagged edge of Guy’s
note.

With
shaking fingers, she unfolded the paper.

To
my Juliet,

You
look so beautiful sleeping bedside me that I can’t bring myself to wake you. I
need to go back to London. Debbie has been taken to hospital – she’s seven
months pregnant, did I mention that?

I
hate myself for leaving you when we’ve only just found each other, but I
promise you I will be back very soon.

There
are no words to describe how much I love you

Call
me the minute you wake-up - 0763839393

Guy

p.s.
Marry me?

Jules
sat frozen as the truth behind Guy’s disappearance and
The Daily’s
apology
soaked through her.

Guy
had not run away. He had not left her. He had meant everything he’d said.

He
loved her.

Jules
pulled her jaw tight, swallowing hard as another thought reared in her mind.

What
had she done?

What
would he think when he read the article? He would have waited for her call all
day. Sitting at his sister’s bedside, desperate for her support, and instead he
would see today’s paper.

Guy
had no way to know that she hadn’t got the note. What would he have thought?
That she’d regretted what had happened between them. That she’d gone to the
paper to humiliate him and make it clear she never wanted to see him again.

The
realisation filled her with a nauseating panic causing her head to pound and
her mouth to dry up.

She
loved him. She’d always loved him. From the second he’d followed her into the
lecture theatre in their first week of University. Even after Guy had broken
her heart and destroyed her dreams, she’d not stopped loving him, Jules finally
admitted to herself.

The
anger that had fuelled her existence for the past five years had vanished. She
felt lost without it.

What
did she do now?

Jules
looked at the note in her hands again, her eyes focusing on the number he’d
left as a spark of hope registered inside her.

With
shaking hands she punched the number into her mobile, suddenly unable to
breathe as she waited for it to connect. But rather than the usual hum of
ringing, a mechanical woman’s voice echoed into Jules’ ear: ‘The message box
for this mobile is currently full, please try again later.’

‘No.
No. No,’ Jules said to the empty kitchen, slapping her hand against the floor.

She
pressed redial and waited, her heart plummeting to her stomach as the same
mechanical voice spoke.

After
the fourth attempt, Jules pushed herself up from the kitchen floor and put the
kettle onto boil for the third time that morning.

In
one swoop she had ruined everything. She had alienated herself from the
residents of Cottinghale and destroyed any chance she had with Guy.

She
might as well get back to work, Jules sighed, changing into her overalls and clenching
her teeth together until the urge to drop back to the floor and cry the day
away passed.

For
three hours, Jules worked like a robot, shutting her thoughts away as she
focused on painting the wall where her stairs had once been. When a stray
memory from the morning escaped from its hiding place and flittered into her mind,
Jules clenched her teeth tighter together, forcing her arms to move faster with
the roller until the bare brown wall shone a bright white.

Only
when she stopped to open a new paint pot and gulp down a glass of water did she
find her body slipping once more to the kitchen floor as a desperate isolation
surrounded her.

She
was alone.

The
hermit-like existence which she’d clung to for so long and craved just a few
days earlier, now felt like a prison sentence.

What
was wrong with her? Jules wondered, rubbing her paint spattered hands across
her face.

Only
when she’d driven Guy away for good did she realise she still loved him.

And
only after
The Daily
had printed her so-called interview, and she’d
shattered the delicate friendships she’d formed with the residents of
Cottinghale, did she find herself suddenly wanting to stay.

The
empty house with its creaking floorboards and strange noises suddenly felt like
home.

But
how could she live here now? No one would talk to her after they’d read the
paper; not that she blamed them.

Stretching
to her feet, Jules looked around her, feeling the loneliness close in once
more.

She
looked at the clock on her mobile, surprised to find it already past three in
the afternoon.  

What
was her plan?

Hide
in her house until she could sell it. Driving out of Cottinghale anytime she
needed something. Preying each time that she didn’t bump into anyone.

How
long would it take to sell the house? If she used the same estate agent who’d
solved it to her, then it could take months, maybe years.

Then
what? Jules asked herself. Another house, another town. Where would she find
another cosy pub with a roaring fire? And a building team that worked hard and
cared about the job they did? A place as beautiful as the view from the top of
the hill? Where would she find another friend like Terri?

And
if she moved again Guy wouldn’t know where to find her, a voice inside her
added. She squashed the thought dead. Guy wasn’t coming back. She’d made sure
of that.

Suddenly,
Jules ran from the house and dived into the driver’s seat of her car. Leaning
over to the passenger side, she tore open the glove compartment, pulling out a
stack of receipts and throwing them one by one to the floor until she found the
one Terri had given her last week.

Printed
at the bottom of the page in small orange letters was Terri’s address.

She
may have lost Guy but she wasn’t about to lose her life in Cottinghale and her
home too.

In
one fluid motion, Jules turned on the engine and threw the gear stick into
first.

‘Cherry
Blossom Cottage, Hill lane,’ Jules read the address aloud as she drove slowly
down the country road, peering up dirt tracks and the occasional road as she
searched for Terri’s house.

The
black metal gate leading to Cherry Blossom Cottage creaked as Jules lifted the
leaver and stepped into the garden.

It
had taken her less than fifteen minutes to find the row of detached bungalows
on one of only four side roads in Cottinghale. As the name suggested, Hill Lane
ascended up the same valley that she had found herself lost on a fortnight earlier.

Jules’
feet felt like cement blocks as she made her way up the path towards the front
door. In her hurry to find her friend she’d not stopped to think about what she
would say. But as the gate clanged shut behind her, Jules pushed her fear aside
and pressed the doorbell.

For
what felt like minutes, she stood like a statue, barely breathing as she
listened for movements inside the house.

With
half a mind to turn around and forget the whole thing, she forced herself to
knock again.

This
time she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps from behind the door.

‘Terri,’
Jules called out. ‘Please open the door. I really need to speak to you.’

Another
stretch of time passed before the door clicked open and Terri’s face appeared.

Even
in the growing darkness, Jules could see the puffy red eyes of someone who’d
been crying.

‘Terri,’
Jules began. ‘Before you say anything, please let me explain. I am so sorry. I
understand why you’re so upset, and why you didn’t turn up today but I didn’t
say those things about you. Well I did,’ she corrected quickly. ‘But I was
explaining how my first impressions of you were wrong and how wonderful you and
your boys have been-’

‘Jules,’
Terri interrupted in a croaky voice.

‘No
wait, I’m not finished,’ Jules cried out, the words spilling out of her faster
than she could think them. ‘From the moment I arrived here you have been a
great friend to me. Not just with all that you have done for me up at the
house, but other stuff too. Like taking me for a drink even when I didn’t want to
go because you knew it would be good for me.

‘And
letting me cry on your shoulder and listen to me rant on about the stories in
The
Daily
. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ Jules breathed in a
long gulp of air as her eyes scanned Terri’s face for a reaction.

‘Are
you finished now?’ Terri asked.

‘Err
yes,’ Jules stammered, her hand already lifting in protest as she waited for
Terri to slam the door in her face.

But
to her surprise, Terri stepped back allowing Jules to enter. ‘Well you’d better
come in for a cup of tea then,’ she said.

Stepping
into Terri’s house reminded Jules of the show homes she’d visited during her
first months as a property developer in Nottingham. The shimmer of gold in the
cream lined wall paper, the gleaming mirrors to give the impression of space.
The thick red carpet, which ran through the entire house, looked as if it had
never been stepped on. Every surface shined the kind of clean Jules thought was
only possible in unlived in houses, and definitely impossible in a home with
two teenage boys.

The
only thing that seemed out of place was the old grey dressing gown, three sizes
too big, wrapped tightly around Terri.

‘Wow
Terri, this is gorgeous,’ Jules found herself saying as Terri led her into an
equally stunning living room.

‘Do
you think so? Thank you.’

‘I
like the photos,’ Jules added, stepping over to a wall of black and white
photographs printed onto canvas; each one a different snap of Dan and Jason at
different ages; all the way from birth through to the teenagers Jules
recognised.

‘The
boys hate them. They think it’s a weird shrine or something. But every time I
look at them it makes me smile. Anyway, pop yourself down, I’ll be back in a
tick with a cuppa.’ 

Jules
sat down on the squishy cream leather sofa and closed her eyes, pushing back
the tears threatening to fall.

She
had no idea if her welling emotions had more to do with seeing the pain she’d
caused Terri, or the realisation of how cowardly her existence had been.

Jules
found her gaze stuck on the photos on the other side of the room. Would she
ever have that? she suddenly found herself wondering. She’d never thought much
about babies. A family had never seemed to fit into her lifestyle, but as she
stared at the toothy grins of Dan and Jason as children, she realised again how
meaningless her life was.

 ‘So
I’m guessing you’ve started on the decorating,’ Terri said, pulling Jules out
of her thoughts.

She
looked down at her paint spattered blue overalls and nodded. It had never occurred
to her to change or even look in the mirror before she dashed from the house.
She lifted her hands to her hair, touching a mess of tangles and paint specks.

Terri
passed her a steaming china cup and saucer and sat down on the other end of the
sofa.

A
silence stretched between them.

Jules
felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. ‘I am so sorry,’ she blurted out,
forcing her eyes to meet Terri’s.

‘Lovey,’
Terri sighed. ‘What are you apologising for? I couldn’t give two hoots about
what that trash published. Dan and Jason even thought the
Hillbilly
comment was rather funny. They can’t wait to show their friends they’ve made it
into a national tabloid.’

‘But
you didn’t come up to the house today,’ Jules exclaimed.

‘I
know,’ Terri sighed, shaking her head. ‘I sent the boys out first thing to do a
quick estimate before coming over to you and the burkes decided to do the job
there and then.

‘Of
course they only called me an hour ago to tell me it was taking longer than
they’d first anticipated. Otherwise I would have called you. I was just about
to get dressed and walk up to the house in fact.’

Jules
shook her head. ‘You don’t need to pretend Terri. I can see you’re upset.’

Terri
nodded as she lifted her mug to her lips, blowing on the hot liquid before
taking a sip. ‘I am,’ she agreed in a shaky voice. ‘But it has nothing to do
with you Lovey and everything to do with that worthless husband of mine. I’m
just sorry you’ve had to see me like this,’ she sniffed, signalling her free
hand towards her tatty dressing gown.

‘Why
what’s happened?’  

‘It
doesn’t bear talking about. I can’t believe I’m getting upset about it again,’
Terri replied with a sniff.  ‘Now come on, I’ll pop my overalls on and we can
head back to the house for a few more hours work.

As
Terri stood up from the sofa Jules shot forward, grabbing her hand and pulling
her back down.

‘Anything
that makes you this upset has to be worth talking about. Now come on what’s he
done?’

‘It’s
not what he’s done; it’s what I’ve done...I’m getting divorced,’ she said with
a sob.

‘But
that’s a good thing isn’t it? I mean he’s been gone for years hasn’t he?’

Terri
nodded. ‘I started divorce proceedings years ago but it took my solicitor so
long to track Kev down that things just seemed to stall. I guess I wasn’t
pushing that hard for it either.’

‘It
seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but as the months went by
without a word, I started to think that he didn’t want a divorce, and just
maybe he was planning to come home. I guess I convinced myself that at any
minute he could walk back through the door and we could go on as if nothing had
happened.

Then
this morning, one week before the judge would have granted me a divorce by
desertion, he sends the papers back, signed and everything. No note...no
explanation.’ Terri dropped her head to hands and sobbed. ‘It’s so cruel.’

‘Oh
Terri, I’m so sorry.’

‘I
feel like most pathetic woman in the world for believing he’d come back.’

‘But
how can you still want him after the way he treated you?’

‘Because
I love him. Don’t get me wrong, I did what you did, I tried to make myself hate
him and get on with my life, but somewhere along the way, I just stopped
fighting it. If Kev walked back through that door right now, I wouldn’t turn
him away. I’d make him do some serious begging, but in the end I’d take him
back.’

Jules
reached out and put her arm around Terri as she cried into her cup. She had no
idea how to respond. It seemed grotesque to her that Terri could still love her
husband after what he’d done, but at the same time she understood it
completely.

‘Who
else would have me now?’ Terri whispered. ‘My boobs are half way to my belly
button. My bum has so much cellulite on it that it looks like two sagging bags
of peas,’ she paused for a moment before adding: ‘In September I’ll be packing
my boys off to University and then I’ll be all alone.’        

‘No
you won’t. I’ll be here,’ Jules replied, tightening her grip around her friend.
‘And so will Rich and Sally, and Stan, and Ben, and everyone else. You will not
be alone, I promise you. And as for no one wanting you – don’t be daft. There
must be a ton of rich widowers or divorcees dying to meet someone as fun and
attractive as you. ’

‘You
are sweet Lovey,’ Terri sniffed, lifting her head up and wiping her eyes.  ‘I
guess you’re right. About having you all here I mean. I’m not so sure about the
rich widowers though, definitely not in The Nag anyway.’ 

‘We
could go for a night out together somewhere if you like?’

Terri
let out a small laugh, ‘Only if you wear those overalls. I don’t think I’d have
much luck with your long legs next to my tree trunks.’

‘Deal,’
Jules smiled.

‘So
you’re not planning to leave us then?’ Terri asked suddenly, lifting her head
to look at Jules. ‘I thought maybe there might have been some truth in what you
said to that journalist.’

‘If
you’d have asked me yesterday I probably would have said yes, but when I saw
those awful comments in
The Daily
this morning it made me realise how
much this place means to me. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know how I can
stay now. You might have thought it was funny, but I can’t see anyone else feeling
that way,’ Jules finished, rubbing a hand over her aching jaw.

‘Oh
I’ve just had the best idea,’ Terri said, getting to her feet and turning to
face. ‘You should have a party.’

‘What?’
Jules spluttered as hot tea dripped down her chin. ‘No one would come.’

‘Yes
they would. You should have a party on Saturday. I’ll get on the blower to
Sally and she can ring round the gang. We’ll put a sign up in the pub and at
the shop. You’ll have a great turn out. Sally and Bob can bring sausages and do
a bit of barbequing. Rich can bring some dri-’

‘Terri,’
Jules interrupted, wiping away the liquid she’d spilled. ‘No one will come. Not
after what I said. Or what
The Daily
reported I said anyway.’

‘Don’t
you worry about that Lovey. Sally and I will explain what happened, and besides
there’s nothing like a good party to make people forget a scandal.’

‘But
the house, it’s hardly ready for people to see it.’

‘Are
you kidding? Do you know how many people are dying to get a look inside the
Mayor house? And anyway the stairs are arriving tomorrow. We can get some paint
on the walls and make sure the downstairs looks half decent at least.’

‘Promise
me this is not some crazy exorcism
séance
thingy?’  

‘It
wouldn’t hurt to invite the vicar from the next village.’

‘No
Terri. Absolutely not.’

‘Fine,
but we’re agreed - a party on Saturday? If nothing else, it will give me
something to take my mind of the divorce,’ Terri added with a weak smile.

Before
Jules could voice the other protests stacking up in her mind the sound of a
doorbell chimed into the room.

‘Who
could that be?’ Terri wondered aloud as she left the room.

As
the front door opened, Jules heard Terri’s surprised voice: ‘Well I be damned,
you are just the person we wanted to speak to.’

‘Really?’
a man’s voice answered.

If
it’s Kev, Jules thought, I’m going to ram this saucer down his throat.

To
her relief, Rich ducked his head under the door frame and strode into the
living room.

‘So
I’m an alcoholic am I?’ he demanded, turning to face Jules.

‘Oh
Rich I’m so sorry,’ Jules cried out all over again, hiding her face in her free
hand.

In
her haste to repair the damage she’d done to her friendship with Terri, she’d
forgotten all about the comments the paper had made about Rich. ‘I didn’t say
anything like that, I promise-’

‘Rich,’
Terri cut in. ‘Stop teasing the girl. You know full well she’d never say such
nonsense.’

‘I
guess not,’ he agreed, ‘I thought something was up when that girl just appeared
out of nowhere. I should have done more to interrupt the two of you.’

‘What?
You knew and you didn’t help me?’