The Reluctant Celebrity (22 page)

Guy
eased his foot onto the brake pedal, coaxing the car to a stop as the light
turned from amber to red. He glanced back at the solemn face of his nephew,
staring out of the window from his car seat.

He
had no idea how Sam had survived the week. Or Debbie or Carl for that matter;
he’d barely made it himself.

Saturday.
Four days since he’d listened to Carl’s message and slipped out of Jules’ room.
Four days since he’d seen or heard from her.  Four days since he’d sacked Sonja.

It
felt like a lifetime.

Ever
since he’d seen the midwives rushing into Debbie’s room and felt a crippling
fear pierce through his chest, he’d focused on nothing else but Debbie and the
baby. 

He
had the rest of his life to dwell on the bitter mistakes he’d made.

Despite
their optimism, Debbie’s body had started labour for the second time; the
contractions hurtling through her only minutes apart. How they did it, he
didn’t know, but the quick work of the hospital team stopped them once more.

In
the days that followed, he’d sat helpless by Debbie’s bedside as she’d received
a cocktail of steroids in the desperate hope of maturing the baby fighting for
life inside her.

Thirty
weeks pregnant. It sounded like a lot to Guy, but as the midwife explained to him,
a baby born so early would miss out on ten weeks of development in the womb;
when the baby would gain over half its body weight and allow the organs to
mature ready for life outside the womb.

He’d
lost count of the times he’d scrunched his eyelids shut and preyed as Debbie
and Carl stared helplessly at the clock, continuing to tick loudly into the
room.

In
his twenty-seven years he couldn’t remember ever wondering if he believed. He’d
just accepted that something might be out there and got on with it. But when he
looked at the terrified expression on his sister’s face, Guy found himself
promising everything if Debbie and baby would be okay.

Then
on Thursday afternoon, just after the lunch trays had been cleared away, Debbie’s
waters broke. This time there was nothing the team of doctors and midwives
could do but assist the delivery.

Guy
had been ushered out of the room so quickly he hadn’t even had a chance to tell
Debbie how much he loved her. For two excruciating hours he waited. Pacing up
and down the waiting room and blanking out the excited faces of the other
visitors waiting to meet new arrivals. He could only imagine how much worse
those few hours had been for Debbie.

It
seemed impossible to him, the task Debbie and the other women in the delivery
ward had to do, but she did it. Carl’s face had poked into the visitors’ room
to tell him; a mixture of excitement and anxiety etched in lines around his
eyes.

But
before the new parents could so much as say hello to the three pound seven
ounce little girl, she’d been whisked away to the Special Care Baby Unit and
attached to a dozen machines as the paediatricians’ made their assessments.

 Debbie
and Carl named her Faith, and then the waiting continued.

The
paediatrician called it Respiratory Distress Syndrome. Despite the steroids
Debbie had received, Faith’s lungs were too immature to breathe without the
help of a respirator. Her only chance was to gain weight fast; the doctor had
explained to them, giving Faith a calorie and vitamin enriched formula through
a tube in her nose.

A
car horn jolted Guy from his thoughts. He focused his eyes back on the road
just in time to see the traffic light turn from green back to amber. He’d been
doing that a lot lately – losing track of time as he gazed at nothing.

Not
long now, he thought. Two more sets of traffic lights, a mini-roundabout and then
they’d be there.

He’d
done the journey so many times in the past week that in the rare moments when
exhaustion gave way to sleep he found himself dreaming it.

But
never with Sam, he reminded himself with a nauseating wave of dread.

Every
afternoon, after taking croissants and fresh fruit to Debbie and Carl, he would
kiss his sister goodbye and collect Sam from Carl’s parents. It took all the energy
he had left inside him to glue a smile on his face and pretend that everything
was okay.

But
today there was not trip to the park to chase the ducks. Today, as he’d
strapped Sam into the car seat, he’d received a text from Carl:

Come
to hospital. Bring Sammy.

He
had no idea what to expect as he pulled into the parking bay, but nothing could
stop the fear rising to his throat. Was this the goodbye they’d all silently
feared?

‘Okay
Sammy,’ Guy called, forcing his voice to sound cheery as he unclipped Sam’s
seatbelt and lifted him into his arms. ‘Let’s go see Mummy and Daddy.’

Sam’s
large blue eyes fixed on Guy’s with a mixture of hope and fear. Maybe his 18-month
old nephew understood what might await them on the other side of the revolving
doors, Guy wondered, gluing a smile onto his face.

As
the midwife buzzed Guy and Sam into the Special Care Unit another wave of panic
drenched through him. Just a few metres away on the red plastic visitors’
chairs sat Carl. His hands covering his face as he rocked back and forth.

‘Daddeee,’
Sam cried out, stretching his stubby arms out towards his father.

Guy
felt the sting of water prick his eyes as Carl lifted his tear streaked face up
to greet them.

‘Sammy,’
Carl said, standing up to take his son and wrapping him into a tight embrace.

Guy
swayed back, his body leaning against the wall as the fear in his stomach
mingled with the emotions of the week until he didn’t think he had the energy
to stand a moment longer.

But
as he took a step towards the row of chairs, his eyes caught sight of his
sister’s red and white spotty dressing gown. On the other side of the Perspex
glass looking into a room of tiny cots, with wires and machines all around them,
sat his sister.

A
sob leapt through him as his gaze fixed on the tiny bundle of blankets in her
arms and the look of joy on her face.

‘Come
in,’ Debbie mouthed, beckoning to them with her free hand.

‘Mummee,’
Sam yelled as Carl carried him into the warm room.

‘Oh Sammy.
Mummy has missed you so much,’ Debbie said, kissing her son on the cheek until
he wriggled with glee in Carl’s arms. ‘Sam, I want you to meet Faith. She’s
your baby sister.’

‘Granny,’
Sam replied, pointing at the tiny face poking out from a pink blanket in
Debbie’s arms.

‘She
is a bit wrinkly isn’t she,’ Carl laughed, ruffling his blonde hair and gazing
down at his daughter.

‘They
took away the respirator this morning,’ Debbie explained, her eyes meeting
Guy’s. ‘She’s going to be here for a good few weeks and it’s too early to say
if she’ll have any problems later on, but she’s here and she’s breathing on her
own.’

‘Debbie...’
Guy croaked, bending down to kiss his big sister.

‘Hello
mum and Dad,’ a midwife with a thick Dublin accent interrupted as she weaved
her way through the rows of incubators. ‘And you must be the gorgeous Sammy
I’ve heard so much about,’ she said, smiling at the little boy, hiding his face
in his father’s shoulder, as she strode towards them.

 ‘Now
mummy, I’ve put up with you under my feet for several days now, even though
mums need their rest just as much as babies. So do you think you can go back to
bed for a few hours now that little Faith is doing so well?’

‘Will
you-’

‘Any
changes and we’ll let you know straight away, but as we said this morning -
plenty of food and this little fighter will be home in no time.

Debbie
bent her head, planting a gentle kiss on the forehead of her daughter and placing
her carefully into the tiny incubator.

Thank
you so much Georgina. For everything,’ Debbie said to the midwife.

‘You’re
most welcome Mrs James. Now, off you go,’ she said, guiding Debbie towards the
door and turning back to Guy. ‘And Mr Rawson, you might want to read this
whilst your sister gets some rest,’ she grinned, holding out a tatty copy of
The
Daily
.

‘Err...thanks,’
he replied, taking the newspaper.

‘Page
five.’

‘I’m
sorry?’

‘The
story you’ll be wanting to read. It’s on page five,’ she grinned.

‘Right,’
he nodded, already peeling back the pages as he followed Debbie, Carl and Sam
out of the room.

SATURDAY,
MARCH 01
^ST
 

THE NEVER ENDING STORY

Juicy
Jules: “I Love you, Guy”

Even
we are getting a bit bored with this pair of star-crossed lovers, but we
couldn’t resist this ending of sweet sorrow.

The
former girlfriend of Guy Rawson has retracted her earlier comments to reveal
that she is “madly, deeply in love” with the sexy singer.

The property
developed from Cambridgeshire said in an exclusive interview with
The Daily:
“I’ve been running away for five years, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I
won’t make the mistake of ruining this chance.” The previously hailed man-eater
went on to say: “Have you ever touched something and got that spark of
electricity from the static? That’s what it’s like with Guy every time we
meet.”

“Guy,
if you read this, please come back to me. I love you, I always have.”

After
reuniting briefly, the lovers are said to be separated again, although based on
the soppy comments from both Guy and Juliet, we at
The Daily
can’t see
why. So on behalf of everyone at
The Daily
and all of our readers,
please GET IT TOGETHER! 

‘Wow,’
Debbie said, reading the story next to Guy.

‘What
on earth?’ Guy mumbled, scanning the story again.

Why
had she done it?
he wondered as thoughts of Jules flooded
back.

He
couldn’t understand it. After the night they’d had together, she could have
called, but she didn’t.
So why do this?

 ‘Guy?’

‘Yeah’
He turned to his sister, still standing in the hallway despite the nurse’s
instructions.

‘What
are you still doing here?’

‘What?’
he asked, staring at his sister’s exhausted face.

‘Go
get her for god’s sake,’ she said, giving Guy a shove. ‘And whatever you do,
don’t muck it up again.’

‘I…I
can’t leave you,’ he stammered.  

‘Yes
you can. Look we’re fine,’ she replied, wrapping her arm around Carl and Sam.
‘Faith is beautiful. She is feeding and she is breathing on her own. Thank you
for everything you’ve done. You are a wonderful brother, but we’re fine.’

‘Are
you sure?’

‘Mate,’
Carl added, ‘Listen to your big sister for once and get out of here.

‘Okay.’
Guy grinned, placing a kiss on his sister’s cheek. ‘I love you, sis.’

‘Love
you too. Now get out of here.’

Jules
breathed a heavy sigh as she sat down on the fourth step of her stairs. Everywhere
she looked huddles of smiling faces greeted her. Terri had been right; it
seemed the whole of Cottinghale had turned out to say hello and look around her
house.

No
one had mentioned her earlier interview in
The Daily
. Whatever Terri and
Sally had said to the residents had worked. Or perhaps it was Rich’s plan to
call the paper and offer another interview that had trumped their interest,
Jules wondered.

It
seemed that everyone had the same question on their lips: what had happened?

Nothing.
Nothing. Nothing, she thought. Nothing had happened.

Maybe
he hadn’t seen it. Maybe he’d seen it but it was too late.

Eight
million people had woken up that morning and read her declaration of love. Was
Guy one of them?

She
swallowed hard, unable to stop the questions from plaguing her thoughts.

She
had found a place that felt like home, with a house that she loved, currently
full of people. She belonged here. Guy’s return into her life had reawakened a
part of her. It felt as if she was seeing things clearly for the very first
time.

Maybe
one day that would be enough, Jules hoped. Her love for Guy had dominated her
life in one way or another for seven years. She had tried to forget him, she
had tried to hate him and she had tried to reach out to him. At some point she
would need to move on. Just not quiet yet, she realised as she found herself
scanning the crowd for the black eyes with speckles of green that lit her up
inside.

‘Jules,’
Terri called, pushing her way through a group of teenagers standing in the
living room. ‘Guess who’s just arrived?’

Her
eyes shot towards the open front door as a mixture of hope and nerves zapped
through her veins.

Terri
stepped towards her. ‘It’s that journalist. Becky, or is it Sara? Whatever her
name is, she’s outside by the barbeque, chatting to Jason.’

‘Oh.’
Jules sank back against the wall feeling her bubble of hope deflate.

‘Oh
Lovey, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to get your hopes up like that.’

‘It’s
okay.’

‘He
might turn up tomorrow you know. He might have a gig to do or is helping his
sister still.’

Jules
shook her head, fighting the tears building inside her. ‘I don’t think so
Terri.’ 

‘Do
you want a drink Lovey? I think Rich is mixing cocktails in the kitchen.’

Jules
could not answer. She had heard the question. A response had been resting on
the tip of her tongue, but something had stopped her from speaking.

She
held her breath as her gaze shot to the doorway, gasping as she heard it again.
The notes of a guitar drifted to her ears.

Suddenly
she felt it; the fizz of electricity shooting through her.

Guy.

She
shot up, jumping towards the doorway just as he stepped through it.

‘Guy.’
A smile stretched across her face at the sight of his crooked grin. ‘I-’

Before
she could continue, his hands moved across the guitar in his arms and he
started to sing:

In
my idle moments when I’m not thinking of much

I
hear your distant laughter and feel your distant touch

The
memory of my gamble, a youthful loosing bet

I lost the love you gave me, you’re my one regret

My Juliet

I
haven’t had a bad life, laughter, fun and friends

I’ve
sped along life’s highway leaning over on the bends

But
I’m running to your love, the one I can’t forget

I can’t see your face in rapture, that’s my one regret

My Juliet

A
drink or two at Christmas with hearts that reminisce

Auld
langsyne at New Year but now no midnight kiss

The loving
years behind me these cheeks are running wet

Old photographs remind me, picture my regret

My Juliet

I’ve
told a million stories. Sung a million songs

Sold
a million good turns and done a million wrongs

But one
sum is out of balance, forever in your debt

I’ll never pay the price I owe you, you’re my one regret

Juliet.

As
the final chords hung in the air a silence fell. Jules took a step closer oblivious
to the people around her as she felt his gaze run through her.

 ‘Jules,’
he whispered, putting his guitar to the floor.

She
felt the heat of his body as she moved closer, the world around her evaporating.

‘Guy.’

‘I’m
sorry,’ they said together. 

‘Hang
on,’ Guy said, ‘I know why I’m sorry, but why are you sorry?’

‘Because
of the story in the paper,’ she replied as his gaze sunk into her.

‘No,
that’s why I’m sorry, the photograph, it was from a video. I didn’t-’

‘I
know, but the one after it, the death threat.’

‘Death
threat?’ Guy smirked. ‘I didn’t even see it.’

‘Really?’

‘I
sacked my publicist. She was the one behind all the stories Jules. I’m sorry.’

‘What
about the one today? Did you see it?’

‘Yep
got that one right here,’ he grinned, patting his jacket pocket. ‘I’m getting
it framed tomorrow.’

Relief
flooded through her, sucking the air from her lungs.

‘I’m
sorry I left you.’

‘Is
Debbie okay?’

‘Debbie,
Carl, Sam and my beautiful niece Faith are all doing well. It was touch and go
for a while, but everything looks like it’s going to be okay. When you didn’t
call me. I thought-’

‘I
didn’t see the note until a couple of days ago and I couldn’t get through on
the number you gave me.’

Guy
reached out, taking Jules’ hands in his; the touch causing a colony of
butterflies to flutter in her stomach.

 ‘So,’
he began. ‘Will you?’ he asked.

‘Will
I what?’

‘Marry
me Juliet Jane Stewart,’ he said, dropping to one knee.

‘Guy
you idiot,’ she laughed, suddenly aware of the faces staring at her.

‘I’m
not getting off from this floor until you answer me, I don’t want to lose you
again,’ he added.

‘You
won’t,’ she said, her voice flooding with emotion.

‘So
marry me then.’

‘Fine
I will.’ Jules grinned, dropping her knees to the floor and wrapping her arms
around him.

She
could just make out the noise of clapping over the sound of the sea rushing in
her ears. 

 ‘Right,
does anyone know a vicar?’ Guy jumped up, pulling Jules up with him as he
looked around the faces.

Jules
recognised Terri’s voice chirp into the crowd: ‘I told you we should have
invited him.’

‘We
don’t have to do it now Guy,’ she laughed.

‘But
soon?’ His dark eyes searched hers.

‘Yes,’
she laughed again. ‘Soon’.

Guy
pulled her towards him, the familiar touch of his fingers brushing her cheeks
as their lips touched.