‘Well, here I am,’ Billy laughs. ‘This is Sophie,’ he adds, placing a comforting hand on my knee. It’s a gesture that, I’m guessing, is either to do with me never getting to Disney or to reassure me that he doesn’t see LA as home, that part of him is now fiercely loyal to Rosefont Hill. Either way it’s soothing.
‘Of course,’ Richard replies, smiling at me and throwing a friendly wink in my direction. ‘Pleasure to meet you, Sophie.’
‘You too,’ I smile back.
‘And you know everyone else.’
‘Sure do. Julie, Clive, not so kiddy kids,’ he says, nodding his way around the table with a warm grin. ‘It’s been too long folks. The studio’s not the same without you guys.’
‘Richard was exec producer for Halo,’ Lauren says in my ear, making the situation a little clearer. Basically, he’s one of the bigwigs in film.
‘Any chance we can tempt you back any time soon? I’m working on some great projects.’
‘You always are,’ Billy praises back with a laugh, clearly attempting to bat the conversation away.
‘True, but you’d be perfect for one of them … it’s a guaranteed smash,’ he teases, smirking at Billy as he tries to suss out his reaction.
‘He’s having a little break,’ calls Julie from across the table, waving her hands at Richard, as though telling him not to bother Billy right now.
‘A break, Julie? What’s that?’ Richard laughs, slapping Billy on the back. ‘You just be sure to give me a call when you’re well rested.’
‘I will,’ Billy nods, tapping Richard’s elbow.
‘Well, I’d better get going, my wife is going to be wondering where I’ve got to. But I’ll see you in a couple of days. We can catch up then,’ he says with a nod, before leaving us as we were.
Billy throws his mum a questioning look.
‘Oh I know you said you didn’t want a fuss made of you being here but I thought, seeing as it’s New Year, it would be nice to have a party. Nothing big and fancy, mind. Just something small and chilled.’
‘You don’t do small and chilled,’ says Billy flatly.
‘He’s got you there, Mum,’ agrees Hayley, stifling a giggle.
‘Remember the low-key party she threw for our eighteenth?’ asks Jenny, causing the other kids to laugh at the memory.
‘Or the relaxed Christmas dinner where she ended up inviting fifty people over to join us for our intimate family gathering?’ chimes in Lauren, her expression wide and disbelieving.
‘Let’s face it, there doesn’t even have to be an occasion …’ adds Hayley innocently, raising an eyebrow in Julie’s direction. ‘One of us could have simply put the trash out and she’d be there ready to celebrate the mammoth event.’
‘Oi!’ Julie reprimands them lightly, though not disagreeing. She turns to Billy, her expression softening at once. ‘At least this way you’ll get to see everyone in one go. Then you can spend the rest of your holiday in whatever way you wish … Oh, Billy, I’m just so excited to have you here. Please let me just do this one thing?’ she pleads.
‘Fine,’ Billy says, shaking his head at her, but unable to stop himself from smiling, clearly quite happy that a fuss is being made of him.
‘Sounds lovely,’ I offer, realizing that the last New Year’s Eve party I went to was the one Molly and I threw in the shop. I’m not usually keen on celebrating New Year’s Eve, especially as I feel the whole night is based on the unrealistic promise of new beginnings, but it was lovely to be surrounded by great people. Obviously, I won’t really know people here aside from Billy’s immediate family, but Billy will, and it’ll be nice to understand his Hollywood life a little bit better. No doubt Billy will be the centre of attention, and that’ll give me time to work out the lie of the land while blending into the background, something I’ve always prided myself on being rather good at. ‘I’ll have to do some baking for it,’ I offer, knowing that I’ll love being hidden in the kitchen in the build up.
‘Yes!’ hisses Lauren gleefully.
‘Dee will love that,’ says Julie, looking extremely pleased that I’m up for the get together, making me wonder how much she knows of me being a borderline recluse. ‘Dee’s a great cook but English desserts are just not her forté.’
‘You’ll have to teach her,’ suggests Clive.
‘You’ll have to tell me your favourites,’ I beam back at them both, thrilled that my offer has been accepted so warmly and that I’m able to do something for them in return for having me to stay.
Billy squeezes my leg under the table, which I take as a sign that this meeting with his parents is going well. Which is always good.
A little later, as we exit the restaurant and head towards James, who’s sitting across the road in the car, a homeless man walks by. His skin is thick with wrinkles, and heavily tanned from the California sun. His grubby jeans and brown check shirt hang off his bony frame, and a structure made of tinfoil sits on his head. He taps at it while talking to himself in an animated fashion, as though he’s communicating with some extra-terrestrial life form.
When he spots us looking at him he shares a big toothless grin.
‘Evening, folks,’ he sings, as he continues on his way, stopping by the rubbish bin and peering inside to see if there’s anything of value he can take, or possibly even looking for food.
It’s heart-breaking to watch, but I can’t take my eyes off him even though I know I shouldn’t stare and I’m being rude.
My attention is pulled by someone jumping out in front of us with a camera held up to their face, followed by the sound of repetitive clicking and the flashing of light. I’m disorientated momentarily and freeze to the spot, unsure what to do.
Billy’s hand finds mine and pulls me towards him, reminding my legs how to function as he casually continues walking towards James.
The flash of the camera keeps bursting bright light through the car as we all get in and put on our seatbelts, but it fades behind us as we pull away and head towards the safety of the house.
During that five-minute car ride no one references the incident with the paparazzo. There’s not a tut, or a hint of annoyance at the lack of privacy. There’s not even a joke made about the ordeal.
But I guess it’s different for them. This is the life they lead. To them it’s mundane and commonplace, whereas to me it’s invasive and horrific. Especially when pounced on from the darkness without any warning …
6
When I wake up the following morning I feel as though I’m dreaming. I experience a moment or two of confusion when I’m not entirely sure where I am, but when I roll over and see Billy, everything falls into place.
‘You up?’ he mumbles, his head turning towards me.
‘Yeah. You?’
‘No, I’m talking to you in my sleep,’ he chuckles, rolling over and placing a heavy arm around my waist.
‘This bed is amazing,’ I sigh, closing my eyes and enjoying the way my body has sunk into it.
‘It’s a good bed,’ he agrees.
‘It’s an amazing house, too.’
‘A long way from our three-bed place in Surrey,’ he laughs, his hand circling my bare skin. ‘Not sure how that happened.’
‘Because you’re talented,’ I say, throwing one of my legs over his and moving closer to his chest, getting in there for a little snuggle.
‘Because I’m lucky,’ he says, a disgruntled frown line forming between his eyes.
‘Because you work hard,’ I smile, poking him in the ribs, not at all surprised to hear he’s not giving himself the credit he deserves.
‘Look, I’m not one of those actors who’s going to pretend their job is draining and demanding,’ he says, raising his eyebrows at me. ‘Yeah, all right, we have to put in long hours for a few months of the year while filming and then travel around doing press junkets, but we’re not doctors. We’re not saving or sparing lives on a daily basis. We put on other people’s clothes and we play around. When you put it into perspec
tive like that, you’ve got to look at this place and laugh. It’s madness. Why on earth do I get this when some homeless man has to sleep rough on a park bench? Or in a shop doorway that he’ll eventually get shooed from? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘God … it’s awful, isn’t it,’ I say sadly, my thoughts going back to the homeless man the previous night. I’d almost forgotten about him thanks to the paparazzo’s intrusion.
‘Doesn’t really fit the image of palm trees and sunshine that comes with the place, does it?’ Billy asks with a hint of sarcasm.
‘I guess not. The pap thing was a bit freaky, too,’ I say, feeling my chest tighten as I bring it up.
‘Have you forgotten what it was like in London?’
‘I don’t remember it being like that.’
Thinking back, I’m sure there were only a handful of times we were caught out on the street (the worst being when I was walking along in my Coffee Matters uniform), or without us even knowing (like when our relationship was global news thanks to us having an innocent kiss goodbye outside the shop).
‘You’re forgetting because we’ve been cocooned in Rosefont Hill for so long,’ he frowns. ‘But yeah, I guess LA can be a bit heavier … You OK, though?’
‘Yes. Yeah. Completely.’
I’m not sure what makes me lie and act as though I’m totally unperturbed by the whole thing. Billy is usually so good at sensing when things make me feel panicky that I rarely have to explain myself … although, actually, our tougher times as a couple have come from our different viewpoints on what is socially acceptable. I hope we’re not about to encounter something similar with our different outlooks on life here.
‘Just part and parcel of being in LA. That’s what makes it crazy and enthralling,’ he shrugs, making my heart sink. ‘Breakfast?’
‘Yes, please,’ I say, my voice an octave higher than normal. I instantly leap out of bed and pull on a little blue summer dress, my head not wanting to ponder too heavily on what we are each willing to consider as normal.
‘Have you seen the pile of stuff upstairs?’ asks Hayley, after briefly knocking on the door and walking in wearing gym gear. The slight blush in her cheeks suggests she’s been doing some kind of workout – I look more exhausted, bedraggled and puffed out after my simple walk to work each morning.
‘What is it?’ asks Billy, putting on a t-shirt.
‘Flowers, baskets, boxes – all addressed to you. It’s in the kitchen,’ she says, lingering in the doorway.
‘Must’ve arrived when we were out last night,’ Billy says to himself.
‘We were both so exhausted when we got back. We literally came in here and collapsed immediately,’ I say to Hayley, suddenly feeling like I really want her to like me.
‘We’re heading up now,’ Billy says, leading us all out of the room and up the stairs.
‘The press are having a field day, too,’ she says, her eyes wide with excitement.
‘Really?’ I ask.
‘You’ve both caused quite a stir,’ she laughs, clearly enjoying telling us what she knows. ‘There are the obvious rumours that Billy’s back for work, that you two have secretly organized to get married here – plus, one website is claiming you’re up the duff and have come to break the news to Mum and Dad.’
‘Nice,’ I mumble, my heart instantly feeling heavy and deflated. Even though I know it’s all nonsense, I hate people talking about me. I always have. I thought it was bad enough being in a tiny village back home where everyone likes to have a little whisper here and there, but there’s something about papers and journalists writing about us that’s even worse. They don’t know me, yet they’re clearly willing to write complete rubbish to sell papers or get people clicking on to their website. It’s horrible.
‘All a load of crap,’ Billy shrugs, seemingly unbothered. But then, he’s used to being in the tabloids every day – and not always for good reasons.
‘Wait until you see what’s in there,’ Jenny calls out as we pass her in the hallway. She’s also in her gym gear (of course they would have worked out together) but she’s stretching out her legs while bending her body in half.
We all walk into the kitchen to find the central island overflowing with bunches of flowers, baskets of food (muffins, brownies and a couple with healthier alternatives like fruit – although they’re naturally accompanied by a top-of-the-range juicer), bags of designer clothes, boxes of gadgets, cards, invites and letters … it’s like a crazy version of Christmas Day. Utterly bonkers.
‘Who on earth sent all of this?’ I ask in shock.
‘Anyone who’s seen the news and knows Billy’s back,’ laughs Hayley. ‘People in the industry wanting to welcome him home and suck up. Plus, if he is about to get married, they’ll be wondering where their invite is.’
‘The clothes will be from PRs hoping Billy will be spotted out wearing something of theirs,’ says Jenny, grabbing a lemon from one of the baskets, slicing it on a marble chopping board and putting some into a glass. ‘They know he’ll get papped loads here.’
‘It’s madness,’ laughs Billy, looking both impressed and embarrassed at the lavish gifts sitting in front of us.
‘You also have invites from nearly every exclusive restaurant, bar and club in the city,’ Hayley says, looking delighted at the stir his return has created.
‘Have you been snooping?’ questions Billy.
‘As if you’re going to sit here and open everything,’ she scoffs, raising an eyebrow at him.
‘You’re more likely to get Dee to sift through it all and send it off to charity,’ says Jenny.
‘Such a Good Samaritan,’ Hayley laughs, leaving me undecided as to whether she actually thinks it’s a good idea or not.
‘Jeez,’ mutters Lauren as she sleepily enters the room wearing a crinkled long baggy t-shirt that barely covers her knickers, her hair dishevelled and last night’s make-up smudged across her face. ‘Is it someone’s birthday?’
‘Billy’s back,’ shrugs Hayley matter-of-factly, as she and Jenny saunter out of the room.
Lauren rolls her eyes at us, a huff escaping her body. ‘Have you seen the photos from yesterday?’
‘No, and we won’t be looking,’ tuts Billy, walking past his abundance of gifts and heading to the fridge.
‘Well, those two are flipping loving it. Anyone would think they were the megastars the way they play up to the cameras. But then, they are the Buskin twins,’ she says, with a hint of jealousy lining her sarcasm. ‘Happy to coast on the wave of their little brother’s success.’
‘That’s not nice,’ says Billy feebly, while continuing to nose about the fridge’s contents.
‘Just frustrates me,’ she sighs, looking a little hurt that Billy’s not backing her up in her quest for a little bitch about their older siblings.
Having brothers and sisters seems far harder than I’d ever imagined …
7
It takes a few days for me to completely unwind and relax. Probably because the busyness of the festive season wore me out before flying over here, and since we landed there’s been the added worry about my unfamiliar surroundings, the stress of meeting Billy’s family and anxiety over feeling so on display by Billy’s side. I just wanted a nice holiday with my boyfriend …
If I’m honest, nothing much has changed. I still feel knackered from the jetlag, desperate to impress the Buskins and judged by the press. But now, sitting on a plush blue sun lounger on a gorgeously remote beach in Malibu, in a red polka-dot bikini with my hair wrapped in a matching scarf, it’s hard to let anything other than happiness tingle its way over my skin. Some of what’s been weighing me down evaporates, and a feeling of contentment washes over me instead.
It’s heavenly.
I actually can’t remember the last time I sat on a beach and did this. Maybe I never have. But, perhaps, as my shoulders loosen and my body melts into the calmness, this should be something I do more often. Well, certainly allow myself a break now and then, in an
y case.
‘You looking forward to getting back into the kitchen tomorrow?’ asks Billy, who’s sat forwards on his sun lounger, watching the waves break and crash into foamy nothingness.
‘Of course I am,’ I grin.
‘You can take the girl out of the teashop, but you can’t take the teashop out of the girl,’ he laughs, glancing over at me.
‘Exactly,’ I smile back, proud that my love for the shop is so ingrained in my being. ‘What about you? Looking forward to your party?’
Billy rolls his eyes as though dreading it.
‘Don’t give me that!’ I laugh. ‘I’m the shy and retiring one. You’re the people person.’
‘Do I have to be?’
‘It’s what you were born to do,’ I grin.
‘I’m not so sure … I’m out of practice.’
‘Don’t you think it’s funny that your mum’s not even hiding the fact that she’s throwing it especially for you?’ I ask, aware that I’ve heard Billy’s name mentioned a million times over the last few days.
‘She’s not really,’ he laughs, squinting back at me. ‘You heard the others – any excuse. I’m just providing the latest reason for her to be the hostess with the mostest. It’s not really about me. Just a chance for her to get out the posh crystal glasses that have been gathering dust.’
‘Right …’
‘Like we said, it’s not going to be a small gathering,’ he says adamantly, toying with his sunglasses between his fingers before putting them on. The dark lenses make him look every inch the Hollywood star who’s known by millions of teenage girls around the world. ‘Knowing Mum, she’ll want to turn it into the party of a lifetime. One that people will be telling their friends about.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘This is LA. Being talked about for the right reasons is extremely important.’
‘Right …’ I say, aware the calm feeling I’d finally welcomed is rapidly seeping away from me.
‘It’ll be lovely though. Just not small. Think big and fancy, then you won’t be too surprised.’