Happy Endings (7 page)

It crushed Mum and she returned with me to England soon after. She’d grown up there and only moved to Australia in her thirties when she met Dad. I loved living in Australia, it was my home and all I ever knew, but without Dad it was too much for her to handle. Every street corner held too many memories. Mum still had family in England and she thought a fresh start would be best for the both of us. At first I resisted and in some ways resented her. I didn’t want to leave Sydney and especially for cold, wet England, but in time and once I realised the anger wasn’t aimed at her, but really at Dad for dying, we made our peace.

Most Sunday mornings Emma and I would visit Mum. Sometimes it was a bit of a chore, but it was Mum. We were all she had.

‘You can’t make it?’

Emma was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, going through the script. I was waiting for my toast to pop and for my tea to stew.

‘I need to go through these new notes and I’m meeting Rhys for lunch.’

Mum adored Emma because I think she’d always wanted a daughter. My parents met later in life and Mum was in her late thirties when she had me. In those days having babies beyond that age just wasn’t the done thing – I was their one shot at a proper family.

I was trying to be understanding about the film, but it was becoming harder and harder with every passing day. Emma and I already didn’t see each other as often as we liked and so Sunday had always been the one day when we were always together. The day when everything else played second fiddle to us. If we weren’t off to see Mum or to the pub with Ed and Kate, then we’d take a stroll, go shopping, pop to an art gallery or museum, or sometimes we’d just stay in, get under a blanket and watch films. But whatever we did, we always did it together.

‘You can’t come for a bit? Mum would love to see you.’

‘I really need to do this,’ she said, taking a sip of coffee and not even looking up from the script.

I’d been trying not to say anything, but suddenly anger rose up inside of me. I’d had enough of not saying anything, of hiding my feelings and not telling her what was on my mind. This always seemed to happen to me. I bottled things up and then unleashed them without warning. I suppose it didn’t just happen. I didn’t like talking about feelings, thoughts and issues – not because I was afraid of them, but afraid of what it would change. If I kept everything in, made it seem like I was fine, then Emma wouldn’t have an excuse to leave me and I was more afraid of that than anything else. Just don’t upset the apple cart.

‘For fuck’s sake, Em. Sunday’s our one day together and you can’t take a day off from the film for me? For Mum?’

Emma looked across at me, perplexed. She closed the script and stared at me coldly.

‘So it is about the film.’

‘What?’

‘You being all angry and morose for the past week. You’re annoyed about the film.’

‘No, Em. I’m annoyed the film takes precedence over everything else.’

‘But this is what I’ve been working towards my whole life, Jack. Surely, you of all people can understand that?’

‘I can. You know I’m happy for you . . .’

‘Do I?’ she snapped.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh come on, Jack. Ever since I got the part you’ve been in a shitty mood about it. You can’t stand the fact that I’ve finally made it, can you?’

‘What?! Seriously?! That’s what you think? It isn’t about the film, Em. Maybe it’s about the fact you’re doing nude sex scenes with Rhys Connelly and didn’t think to mention it to me. Maybe I’m pissed off about that.’

Emma looked at me for a moment with a sort of ashamed confusion. She’d been caught out and was trying to work out how I knew.

‘You’re jealous?’

‘No, not jealous . . .’

‘It sounds like jealousy.’

‘I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me and I had to find out from him.’

‘I was just waiting for the right time.’

‘And when was that? When Rhys had his dirty Welsh hands all over your tits or when he had his tongue down your throat?’ As soon as I’d said it, I knew I’d crossed a line. I’d gone too far. Emma looked at me in disgust. I would have to apologise. She looked hurt, sad and angry, a whole cacophony of emotions – all I felt was overwhelming guilt. I was an idiot. ‘I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean that. You know I’m not that shallow.’

Emma looked at me for a moment and I couldn’t make out her expression, but one thing was quite obvious, she did think I was that shallow. The truth wasn’t that simple. I was over the moon for her and I wanted her to be successful and, honestly, I didn’t mind about the nudity and sex because it came with the territory, but I was afraid she would fall in love with Rhys. I looked at her sitting there, so beautiful and wonderful, and I wanted to hug her, kiss her and hold her. She was enough for me. Suddenly, however, and maybe because of the film, I didn’t feel like I was enough for her.

‘Just go, Jack,’ Emma said tersely, and so I walked away, my toast suddenly popping up to let me know it was done.

‘Mum,’ I said, walking in through the side gate of her house. She didn’t hear me at first and continued on with the garden. ‘Mum,’ I said again a bit louder. Finally she looked up and a smile spread across her face.

‘Oh, hello, Jack,’ she said. ‘Emma with you?’

‘Not today. Tea?’ I said and we headed indoors.

Mum got on with the tea while I settled myself into the living room. I liked coming home because it kept me in touch with my old self. In London, among the great unwashed masses and the hectic life that carried me along at its own pace, I felt lost at times. But there at Mum’s house on the quiet tree-lined street with the back garden and my old bedroom, I felt completely at ease. It was like going back in time. Back to when I was a teenager, still full of hopes and dreams of being a published author. Back to when I knew I was definitely going to be a writer, before the rejection letters had piled up and my dreams felt impossible.

‘Here you go,’ said Mum, putting the tray down on the coffee table.

A tray with tea, biscuits and two slices of homemade fruit cake. Mum sat down opposite and I took a moment to really look at her. She was in her sixties now and her hair was full of grey. Her face, once so beautiful, was now full of wrinkles and her skin was like old leaves and sallow. Her body, which had always been full and plump, was skinnier because without me she lived on a diet of tea, biscuits and toast. She was starting to look old. In her fifties she still had that glow of beauty, but now it was hidden behind the weary lines of a life slowing down.

‘Good cuppa, Mum.’

‘Where’s Emma then?’ she said, ignoring my comment and getting straight into the cold, hard facts. Mum was never one to beat around the bush.

‘She couldn’t make it.’

‘Did you have a fight?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Jack, dear, when it comes to relationships, there’s no such thing as sort of. You may think it was sort of an argument, but I can guarantee if I asked Emma, she’d say you had a fight.’

‘Fine, we had a fight.’

‘And are you going to tell me what it was about?’

‘It’s stupid really.’

‘Most arguments are.’

We settled into drinking our tea and eating biscuits and cake, and I explained how I felt about the film. How I was sure her success would mean the end of our relationship and Emma tucked up in bed with Rhys Connelly. Mum listened carefully without interrupting before she gave me her advice and, as usual, it was spot on.

‘Jack, I love you, but I think you know you’re in the wrong. You know it’s foolish to try and hold her back and stop her from being what she’s always wanted to be. Imagine if it was the other way around and it was you who’d achieved their dream first; how would you feel if she resented you for it?’

‘But that’s different because if I get published, I won’t suddenly be recognised in the street. I’ll be signing books at the Waterstones in Bracknell, not doing sex scenes with the best-looking bloke in Britain.’

‘So this is about your insecurities and not her success?’

‘I suppose.’

‘The thing is, Jack, at the moment she loves you. You’re engaged to be married regardless of her success, but if you keep pushing her away because you’re afraid of what might happen, then you’ll lose her. It’s ironic, but the fear of failure is often its catalyst.’

‘How did you become so wise?’

Mum looked at me with a smile, a smile that for an instant made her look young again. Her face lit up, her eyes sparkled and the wrinkles seemed to vanish just for a second and there on the sofa was my mum. The mum I’d known growing up. She looked beautiful, like an old film star from the fifties.

‘It isn’t wisdom, Jack, it’s age. When we’re young we often can’t see what’s right in front of us, but with age comes perspective. You know your dad once said something that’s always stayed with me.’

I sat forward on the sofa at the mere mention of my father. I looked up briefly at the old black-and-white photo of him and Mum on their wedding day that had pride of place above the fireplace.

‘What’s that?’

‘I was having a bad day and having a go at him about something trivial and he said, “We should love blindly without question, without regret and selflessly.” ’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I said I was sorry, but then he said, and typical of your father, “But right now, love, you’re being a right pain in my arse, so I’m off to the pub.” ’

Mum and I laughed, but we were both lost in our own worlds. Mum was, I’m sure, thinking about Dad, while I was thinking about Emma. Mum was right: I would lose her if I didn’t support her and I couldn’t let my fears get in the way of our happiness. I was going to go home, apologise and let her know how proud I was of her and how much I loved her. Before it was too late.

Emma

As soon as I walked into the small and upmarket café in Swiss Cottage, I saw Rhys and my heart dropped. He was reading a book at a table in the corner and looking every inch the archetypal film star. I forgot I was soon to be acting opposite him and I became a silly teenager again. He was wearing a blue cable-knit jumper and a pair of faded jeans, his hair was its usual beautiful mess and he had a few days’ stubble hanging around his chin. There was no getting away from the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous and every young girl’s dream. I, of course, was almost thirty and should know much better.

I was still pissed off after the argument with Jack. I couldn’t believe how callous he was being about the film. I’d been waiting for this moment my whole life and the one person who should have been supporting me was the one person who was acting like a complete and utter dickhead. I didn’t want Rhys to know anything about it and so I put on a smile, threw my shoulders back, took a deep breath and made my way over to his table.

‘Em,’ said Rhys as soon as he saw me. He got up and gave me a theatrical kiss on each cheek and a warm hug, as if we’d been friends for years. He smelt fantastic and I could feel the taut muscles beneath his jumper. I noticed people at nearby tables were furtively watching us. They’d obviously spotted Rhys and were probably trying to work out if I was famous too. To be honest, I felt a little bit out of my depth. For Rhys this was just another lunch and just another co-star, but for me it was the beginning of everything. ‘How are you?’

‘Good thanks,’ I said, putting my handbag down on the table next to me. ‘You?’

‘Fantastic. Bit tired. Up all night going through a script for an American thing my agent wants me to do. It’s shit, really, but big-budget and has some huge names attached to it. I just don’t know if I want to go down that route, the big-budget action films, or do things a bit more, you know, eclectic.’

‘Then don’t do it,’ I said, giving advice as though I knew what I was talking about. This from the actress who had recently been turned down for such esteemed roles as ‘girl on phone’, ‘girl on train’, ‘second friend from the left’ and, most recently, ‘girl in lift’. I was a classically trained actress who’d been turned down for roles that basically required me to stand still.

‘I know, but it’s five million for six months’ work and it’s set in Hawaii, which wouldn’t be a bad place to spend a few months . . .’

‘Five million?’ I said incredulously.

‘Yeah.’

‘As in pounds?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you’re asking me for advice?’ Rhys looked at me and laughed. He had a horribly gorgeous laugh that made me fancy him even more than I already did. I tried to put all naughty, inappropriate thoughts out of my head. I was engaged. I loved Jack with all my heart even though he’d been an utter pig all morning, but Rhys had a way about him. Sort of like a young Sean Connery. He had a raw sexiness that wasn’t forced, but a natural quality which ran through everything he did. He could probably make brushing his teeth sexy.

‘Why are you laughing?’

‘Oh, Em, you’re priceless. Let me buy you lunch. What do you want?’

It was only ordering lunch, but it somehow felt like a trick question. What did I want? I looked down at the menu and I quite fancied a hamburger or perhaps the pie and mash. I’d been so nervous about meeting him I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. I felt like I should stick to a salad or maybe at most a light sandwich on wholegrain bread, but then again, did I want to be that girl? The girl who ate nothing, lost too much weight and ended up in one of those God-awful magazine spreads about actresses who get too thin. They’d somehow find a photo of me before I was famous where I was a stone heavier and say how healthy I looked, and then a new photo of me from a terrible angle where I looked like I hadn’t eaten in six months. The next thing I knew I’d be labelled as bulimic and a bad example to all young girls. There was also the chance I was completely overthinking things and Rhys didn’t give a shit what I ate.