Lovestruck (17 page)

‘More champagne?’ she said. They had another couple of glasses, Rosie kept the conversation firmly focused on the kids and telly, and were just getting nicely tipsy, when the bodyguard interrupted them.

‘So sorry, ladies, but I’m afraid Ms Lewis has had to cancel her dinner with you. She sends her profuse apologies but she is very, very … er, tired and she’s had to go to bed.’

‘It’s
nine o’clock!’ exclaimed Becki. ‘I don’t want to go to bed and I’ve got four children. What’s with her?’

Rosie shrugged. She was disappointed; she liked Ellie, although she clearly wasn’t the brightest eyeshadow in the palette, and she’d been on tenterhooks wanting to know what she’d reveal next. But she was an actor. You couldn’t trust any of them, apart from her husband.

‘Just have to eat in the dining room.’

‘Famous people, eh?’

‘Tell me about it,’ Rosie said. Suddenly this seemed very funny. She started to laugh and so did Becki. They clinked glasses.

‘Thanks for coming,’ Rosie said.

‘Thanks for asking.’ Becki smiled. ‘I really appreciate it.’

Rosie’s heart overflowed with happiness. Perhaps it was all worth it – Jake’s long hours, the intrusion, the weird new life in the Village – if they could treat their family. She’d do the same with Nanna soon. Maybe, even, if she could track her down, take her mother.

‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’

When Rosie woke the next morning a note had been slipped under her door.

So sorry about last night, Rosie. Things are so crazy … I’d love to see you again some time soon. I’ll get my assistant to call and arrange lunch for a day when I’m not needed in rehearsals.

Ellie Xx

After their final mega-blowout at the breakfast buffet, she dropped Becki at the station.

‘I’m going to look into some other weekends away for us,’ her sister-in-law informed her. ‘There’s this lovely place in the Lake District we could check out.’

Rosie drove home happily. She’d done her duty to Becki; she hadn’t been (quite) as annoying as she feared and soon she’d be home again, hugging the boys as they came out of nursery and eating lunch to the sound of them biffing each other over the head, rather than the genteel clink of cutlery and Becki musing whether she’d have dessert. She’d go to sleep with Jake beside her, snoring and hogging the duvet, rather than Becki snoring softly.

She opened the front door, glancing up at the clock. An hour until Wendy’s pick up; just time
to unpack, do emails, go through post. Then she stopped. She looked around. Things had changed. The hall walls that a couple of days ago had been a creamy white were an unappealing shade of dark salmony pink and covered with gloomy black-and-white photos of what looked like woodland.

The tatty photographs of the boys in the frames from Tiger that she’d placed on a side table had vanished, along with the old Mexican mask she’d picked up in Cancún. Instead, a tidy pile of post sat in a silver tray. Rosie automatically picked up the first fat envelope with a King’s Mount stamp on it and than looked around, dazed. This was horrible.

‘Surprise!’ Jake bounded down the stairs.

‘Hey! What are you doing here? Don’t you have a rehearsal? What’s happened here?’

‘No rehearsal until the afternoon,’ replied Jake, ignoring her last question. ‘They’re doing one-on-one emergency work with Ellie this morning, after she buggered off on one of her Ellie-time weekends without warning.’

‘I know, I saw her, she …’ But Rosie hadn’t a chance to say more, her husband was pulling her by the arm, dragging her into the lounge, sorry living room, which now contained new white sofas identical to Patrizia’s, and over to the window.

‘Look!’

She looked. The garden with its lush green lawn was now a filthy sea of Somme-like mud. A pit sat in the middle, surrounded by piles of bricks, and two builders in overalls sat on a heap of timber drinking tea.

‘What have you done?’ Rosie waited.

‘Put in the foundations for a pool,’ Jake crowed. ‘I stayed here over the weekend to supervise. We kept it a surprise from you, because we know you had a few doubts but we knew once you saw it you’d love it.’

‘It looks horrible.’

‘Of course it does now. But when it’s finished it’ll be amazing. David’s mocked up these photos of how it’s all going to look in a few weeks. The boys and I are so excited and you will be too – come, look!’ He pulled her out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen. ‘Oh, and I’ve got something else for you too. Because I missed you.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Despite her annoyance at being bamboozled like this, Rosie felt a surge of affection. She put one hand inside Jake’s jeans pocket. ‘Anything to do with this area?’ Tradition had it, after all, that when he’d been away for more than a couple of days, the first thing they always did was jump each others’ bones, rather than study interior-designers’ mock-ups.

But Jake shrugged her off, opening one of the kitchen drawers. ‘Look.’

He handed her a black box. She opened it and took out a heavy gold necklace, with thick chains quilting into
one another. It was like something Rihanna would wear, the most un-Rosie-like creation she had ever seen. It must have cost a fortune.

‘Thank you,’ she gulped. ‘Wow. It’s lovely.’

‘Do you like it? The boys picked it out with some help from Mum.’

‘Right.’ Rosie tried her best to smile.

He pecked her on the cheek. ‘Just to show our appreciation. When you go away it’s not the same.’

‘I’m glad you noticed.’ Rosie folded her arms across her chest. ‘But you could have bloody consulted with me about the pool. I still don’t think it’s a great idea with the boys so little. It’s not just them, it’s their friends. Suppose some stranger’s kid drowns in it, and what about the living room? Did you tell David a white sofa was OK? Because I definitely told him it was not. And what are those photos in the hall all about? Where are the pictures of the boys?’

‘Relax,’ sighed Jake in a way that Rosie found intensely patronizing. ‘The photos in the hall are by this prize-winning Finnish photographer. Apparently they’re limited edition, very rare; we’re lucky to have them.’

‘They’re photos. He can print out as many as he wants.’

‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ Jake’s bottom lip curled now and he slumped down in one of the kitchen chairs – at least
they
hadn’t been changed yet. ‘I thought it would be fun to surprise you.’

Rosie
looked at him sceptically. She doubted this. She was pretty sure Jake just couldn’t be bothered to argue his case and had decided to pull the rug from beneath her feet. It was the side of Jake she saw occasionally, the one that was determined to have its own way, a side she didn’t like at all.

But she didn’t want a fight. She turned her back and began filling the kettle. As calmly as she could, she said: ‘So are you going to ask me how the weekend went? You know, with
your
sister?’

‘Hey, don’t sound like that. I was going to. But later. Tonight. Because I need to leave in a second.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘Bean.’ Jake put his hand on her bottom, but she pushed it away. ‘You’re being so bloody grumpy,’ he snapped. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘I really wish you’d asked me first.’ Rosie’s voice shook slightly.

The buzzer went. ‘That’s my car. We’ll talk about it later, OK? See you.’

He was off, running out of the door, leaving her alone by the Aga, feeling as if she’d been hit round the head by a brick. All the fury she’d been concealing burst out. ‘Sneaky fucker,’ she exclaimed. ‘He pulled a fast one on me.’

‘Are you OK?’ asked Dizzy in the doorway, a bandanna round her head.

‘Oh! Hi! I’d forgotten you were here. Yes, I’m fine. Just practising … er, some lines for a speech I have to
give at nursery. Thanking Wendy. On behalf of the mothers. You know.’

‘Right.’ Dizzy clearly didn’t believe a word. ‘Loving what David’s doing with the house.’

‘Are you?’ Rosie tried not to sound too sarcastic.

‘Oh, yah. Getting rid of all the clutter, it’ll be great. So much easier to dust.’ Her iPhone rang. ‘Oh, sorry, Rosie,’ she said as if she were the employer, dismissing an underling. ‘I’ve got to take this.’

‘Be my guest,’ Rosie said, then immediately hoped she didn’t sound too sarcastic.

Rosie opened the letter from King’s Mount.
INFORMATION PACK
she read on the front of a red folder. Out fell a stack of papers.
TIMETABLE
. School dates for the next three years, with a note saying parents were strictly forbidden from booking holidays outside these times.
REGULATIONS
.
CLUBS
.
UNIFORM
.
PARENTS
’
SOCIAL CALENDAR
.
Social calendar?

‘The uniform list’s at fucking Harrods!’ she exclaimed.

‘Excuse me?’ Dizzy, who’d been standing in the corner shaking with laughter, held her phone away from her ear.

‘Sorry, Dizzy, nothing.’ She carried on reading in horror.
Parents’ ball. One hundred and fifty pounds per head, to include a glass of champagne on arrival
. ‘I should think so at that price,’ she muttered to herself.
Autumn Bazaar, donations needed
. She continued to read.
Last year parents generally gave gifts such as an iPad, a week in their Barbados villa, a crate of vintage brandy
. There was a pile of forms that needed to be filled in. Toby’s health. Their religion. Their occupations.
Occasionally we love parents to come in and talk to the children about their work, do tick the box if you’d be up for it!

Rosie ticked the box. Jake would be furious, but if he declined, their son might be blacklisted and he’d never make it to a good uni. Her phone rang. She grabbed it, sure it would be Jake, calling to apologize, but no, Christy.

‘Sorry about the background noise, I’m just walking down the Strand on the way to pop in on Jake’s rehearsals. I’m
so
busy. So what did you think?’

At least someone wanted to hear about her weekend. ‘Well, Becki drove me up the wall, but we had a couple of laughs too. And you’ll never guess who was staying there.’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Christy said impatiently. ‘I meant what did you think of the necklace. I told Jake to buy you something to soften the blow of the swimming pool. I know you’re being all health and safety about it, but you’re going to love it.’

‘Right.’ Rosie felt as if she’d been stamped on. Jake. Christy. Their plotting to buy more fabulous things that she didn’t want. Tears of self-pity pricked at her eyes. Why was it that no one she loved seemed to recognize what was important any more?

‘Jake said you were a bit peeved. But seriously it’ll be amazing. And listen …’ she continued, as Rosie realized that Jake must have called her to whine about his wife’s ingratitude as soon as he got in the car. ‘I’ve got a fancy invite for the both
of you. Jake’s presenting an award at the Top TV bash next Thursday. Do you want to come with?’

‘I guess.’

‘You don’t sound very excited.’ Christy seemed put out.

‘Sorry, just busy.’ She should say how she felt, but once again she didn’t want a row. She and Christy never fought; it was always so much easier just to do what she said. But at least in the past Christy had always wanted to hear what she had to say, now she no longer seemed to have the time. She realized with a jolt that she was feeling the absence of Christy’s friendship even more acutely than she was feeling Jake’s lack of affection. To her relief, the other line started bleeping. ‘Christy, I’ll call you back.’

‘Please! I want to hear how it went with Becki.’

‘Sure. Hello, Nanna.’ Finally, the person who would listen. She felt as if she’d climbed into a deep, hot bath after a walk in the rain. ‘I’ve been meaning to call, but I just got in and Jake’s done all this stuff … Well, anyway, I’ll tell you about it in a minute. But I survived the weekend. Actually, Becki and I got on quite well. And I’ve got some other amazing news: we met Ellie Lewis. She was staying there! We hung out with her!’

‘Oh,’ said Nanna.

Her voice sounded as thin as rice paper. A drum thudded in Rosie’s chest. ‘Nanna, are you OK?’

‘Fine.’

‘Are you
sure
?’

There was the faintest pause, before Nanna said, ‘Well, I need another scan, a more detailed one. They think there might be a lump in my brain.’

‘
What?
’

‘That’s why I’ve been so shaky lately. Not really a surprise, is it?’

‘Oh, Nanna.’

‘But they say nothing’s certain. I have to have a scan next week – an MI5 or whatever it’s called.’

Rosie’s thoughts twirled, as if she’d jumped onto a moving carousel.

‘I’ll come and see you,’ she said, grasping on to her first thought like a pole. ‘I’ll be with you in a few hours.’

‘Don’t be daft, lover, what about the boys?’

‘I’ll call Dizzy; she can look after them until Jake gets home. I’m on my way.’

Later Rosie found she could remember nothing of the drive to Bristol, except she’d done ninety nearly all the way. She didn’t cry, instead she was numb all over – the same kind of dead, cold sensation she’d had when they’d given her the epidural for George. She didn’t believe what she’d heard. Nanna couldn’t have a lump. Nanna was indomitable: she couldn’t go and leave them.

She was approaching Bristol, when the phone rang. Christy. She jabbed speaker.

‘Hey. Jake just told me. I’m so sorry.’

‘Yes.’ Irritation broke through the dullness. Jake again, interfering with their friendship.

I’ve sent her flowers already.’

Despite herself, Rosie smiled. ‘She’ll like that. Thanks.’

‘You know there’s a lot you can do for her now with Jake’s money. Private care for a start.’

‘I guess.’ Rosie hadn’t even begun to think practicalities. All she could think of was Nanna suffering, Nanna being pumped full of drugs, Nanna eventually leaving them.

‘I’ll
start looking into it immediately,’ Christy pronounced.

Nanna opened the door to her, looking exactly the same as she had a few weeks previously. Rosie hugged her tight.

‘You are ridiculous,’ her grandmother said, tutting. ‘Why have you come? What’ll the boys do?’

‘I told you, Nanna, Jake is perfectly capable of looking after them for one night. What about you? I need to hear about you.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Nanna said briskly. The wobble that had been in her voice earlier had vanished. ‘I’ve an appointment with a specialist next Tuesday. We’ll take it from there.’ Rosie looked aghast, as she continued: ‘It’ll work out fine. Jean from the community centre had a breast lump. Did the chemo, was a bit poorly for a while, but last weekend she did a sponsored run. Had to give her twenty quid, but at least it was for cancer research, so a good investment as it turns out. Honestly, love, there’s so much doctors can do these days. Now have a cup of tea. Calm down.’

‘Next Tuesday?’ Rosie was still taking it all in. ‘Can’t it be sooner? We can have it done privately.’

‘Nonsense, lover. Nothing wrong with the NHS.’

‘But I’ll come with you.’ Rosie calculated. Dizzy could look after the boys for the afternoon. Tuesday. Not a problem. ‘Do you want me to stay until then? Have you told Mum yet?’

‘No,
love. You know what she’s like. She’d have to find the money to come and visit; she hasn’t got that now.’

‘But I’d pay!’

Nanna shook her head. ‘You can’t change everything just by dipping into your wallet, love. People stay the same. If Marianne really wanted to come, she’d find the cash. But you know most of the time your mother likes to keep her distance.’

‘Oh, Nanna.’ Suddenly Rosie was exhausted. Tears filled her eyes and she slumped down on the battered sofa. Her grandmother put a bony arm round her.

‘Come on, lover. It’ll all be all right.’

‘I’m meant to be comforting you,’ Rosie sobbed.

‘It doesn’t work that way. Come on, love, don’t cry, don’t cry.’ Rosie gulped loudly and reached wildly for a tissue. Nana handed her a sheet of kitchen roll and laughed. ‘Oh, all right then. Cry if you want to.’

In the morning, the way forward seemed far clearer. Rosie had stayed up late googling in her old narrow single bed with the orange duvet cover they’d bought at Matalan and the faded patches on the wall where she’d Blu-Tacked her posters of Take That. She’d read plenty of cheering stuff about miracle cures, mistaken diagnoses, wonder drugs. A lot of gloomy stuff too, but she wouldn’t dwell on that.

‘So there’s a really good chance this lump might be benign,’ she burbled over the bacon sandwich that
Nanna had insisted on rustling up for her. ‘It might be fine to leave it and even if it isn’t we can make sure you have the best treatment available to remove it.’

‘That’s right, love.’ Nanna sounded as if she were talking about picking up some shampoo for her in Superdrug.

‘So I’ll leave today, but come back next week for the scan.’

Nanna reached out and took her hand. ‘Listen, love, don’t take it the wrong way, but I’d rather you didn’t. I’d prefer to go with Maureen.’

‘Nanna! Of course I’m going to take that the wrong way.’

‘I thought you might. But it’ll be easier for me with Maureen there. I won’t feel I have to keep strong with her around, but with you I will.’

‘You can weep and wail, Nanna. I’ll stay strong.’

That was obviously a lie and Nanna laughed. ‘Has that ever happened?’ Rosie shook her head like a little girl. ‘Hell’ll freeze over before it does. It doesn’t work like that. I stay strong for you and I want to keep it that way. I want to go with Mo. And now I want to go down to Iceland with you and for you to help me carry my bags back and then I want you to go back to London and your family and await further instructions.’

‘I’ll be checking up on you all the time.’

‘I will answer the phone to you only once a day. So don’t go crazy. You’ve got your boys and your hubby to
look after. They’re what’s important, not an old lady like me.’

‘Oh, Nanna, don’t be such a martyr. I love you. I want to be with you.’

‘I’ve told you, love. I love you too, but for now I need space from you. I can’t be wasting energy worrying about you, I need to putting all my effort into fighting whatever this lump might be. My friends’ll be there for me. You know I have good friends.’

‘Jake and Christy are saying we might have to move to LA,’ Rosie blurted out.

Nanna nodded. ‘Well, that would be the logical thing, wouldn’t it, love? It’s where the work is for actors.’

‘Would you come with us? You’d love cruising up and down Sunset in a convertible.’

Nanna laughed. ‘What did I just tell you? I have my friends here. I love St Pauls. It’s a dump, but I was born here and I’ll die here. I don’t want to spend my twilight years dribbling and hobbling around in some hot foreign place where I’m the only person with wrinkles and they all eat nothing but tofu.’

‘Think of the sunshine,’ Rosie tried, but Nanna only laughed again.

‘You know I’m not a fan of sunshine. I burn too easily.’ She leaned forward and her gnarled hand brushed Rosie’s cheek. ‘But you must stop fretting about me, love. You need to do what you want to do.’

‘But this isn’t what I want to do. It’s what Jake wants to do. And bloody Christy. I don’t want to be any richer
than we are; we already have too much. I don’t want to be five thousand miles away from you. I don’t want the boys growing up with American accents and modelling for Burberry.’ She stopped. ‘I know it sounds nuts, but I sometimes wish none of this had happened. I wish I could turn back time to the day Jake went to that audition for
Archbishop Grace
. I wish the tube had broken down or that he’d had a stye and he’d never been offered that part and that he’d decided acting was a waste of time and become a teacher or something. Then we’d still be in Neasden and we’d be happy.’

Nanna shook her head. ‘But how would Jake feel?’

‘But it’s not just about Jake. It’s about the whole family.’

‘Lover, I know it’s hard. But the boys are happy. Jake is stressed in the run-up to this play, but he’d rather be stressed because he’s achieved his dream than trudging along teaching drama or whatever, thinking “What if?” So the issue here is not Jake, it’s you. You’ve always been a homebody. You’ve never enjoyed new situations. God knows, you’ve spent most of your life cowering behind that Christy. Maybe it’s time to be a little more adventurous, to embrace all these new happenings.’

‘Even if it means leaving you behind?’

‘You won’t leave me behind. We can Skype every day. We can email. It’ll be no different from you being in London, really.’

‘I guess,’ Rosie said. The unspoken truth remained: sooner, rather than later, Nanna might not be around
to chat to at all. Nanna was telling her to move on, that she needed to live her life without her.

Nanna thumped her fist on the table. ‘Now tell me all about that beautiful Ellie Lewis.’

So Rosie told her and Nanna laughed and rolled her eyes at Becki’s pushiness.

She drove home feeling a little bit better. When she got home, she couldn’t stop hugging the boys: her children, Nanna’s great-grandchildren, her DNA.

‘Get off, Mummy,’ said Toby. ‘I can’t see Mr Tumble.’

A Question of Scruples with Jake Perry
,
You Go Magazine

Would you accept the leading role in a show opposite an actor you hate
?

Of course. I’m an actor, a professional. It’s not a scenario I can really envisage, though. I’ve always been much more likely to fall in love with the actresses I worked with than hate them
.

A drunken friend offers you a lift home. You will be unable to get a taxi for at least three hours, do you accept
?

Never. I value my life
.

You discover a terrible secret about your wife’s best friend. Do you tell her
?

Definitely not, Ignorance is bliss
.

You are offered a lucrative film that will pay off all your debts, but it involves full-frontal nudity. Would you accept
?

No one would pay to see me nude, so the question would never arise. But if pressed – yes, why not? I’d be playing another character. it wouldn’t be me nude on screen; it would be the character I was inhabiting
.

You find £50 in the street. Would you keep it, hand it to the police or give it to charity
?

Give it to charity.

Your
advisors tell you the best way to maximize your earnings is to go into tax exile. What would you do
?

Refuse! I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in somewhere soulless like Monte Carlo. And I don’t believe in tax avoidance anyway. This country has given me so much I’m proud to give back
.

You are offered a fantastic job in an American
TV
show but your partner doesn’t want to go. What do you do
?

I would go. I’m the breadwinner, we’d have no choice. I’m pretty sure I could sell America to my wife.

You are at a party and everyone is smoking joints. You are handed one, would you smoke it?

No, because I’ve never smoked dope.

You wake up with a terrible hangover and you know you will miss the beginning of your show. Do you ring up and tell the truth or do you invent an excuse?

I’d invent an excuse. Admitting I had a hangover would be so unprofessional. The only time that has ever happened to me was when I was in my early twenties and a bit of a clubber. Today I am incredibly professional and I am always punctual if I have a show
.