Let's Pretend, page 22
Then he leant in and kissed me.
In the first moment of shock I just stood there, motionless, with his tongue in my mouth. It was still flavoured with gravy. Dan took my lack of reaction for compliance, for his tongue began to move, vigorously – thrashing about, in fact, as his hand held the back of my head, clamping my face to his, and his other hand began to roam around my body while he emitted small noises of satisfaction and pleasure. They were very similar to the noises he’d made while eating the venison pie. I came to my senses and pushed him off, with more force than both of us expected, so that he fell against the table.
‘Shit. I’m sorry,’ I said breathlessly. ‘Are you OK?’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ he said, though he looked annoyed as well as startled. ‘I didn’t mean to take you by surprise.’ He rubbed his hip and attempted a gallant smile. ‘I suppose my baser instincts got the better of me.’
I tried to smile back. ‘Crossed wires, that’s all. I’m sorry if things got … muddled. But as you know, I’m not looking to date – date for real – at the moment. I’m still not over Adam.’
Dan shook his head. ‘You can’t let an ex overshadow the rest of your life. I appreciate that you feel some kind of survivor’s guilt, but it’s obvious you’ve been ready to move on for a while. My instincts might be base, but they’re not wrong. And I know we have a connection.’
‘Look, there’s no doubt the, uh, play-acting aspect of our arrangement can be confusing.’ The room was too small, too stuffy. My lungs felt cramped. My chest was tightening. ‘But the lines were set out very clearly at the start. We need to keep our focus. We need to think of the bigger picture here.’
‘Screw the lines. Screw the rules. The heart wants what it wants.’
He was advancing towards me.
‘But what if the heart wants something … wrong?’ To my shame, tears stung my eyes.
‘Lily! You’re crying.’ Now Dan looked stricken. ‘God, this is so awful. And all my fault. You’re making me feel terrible. You’re so pretty when you cry, but it’s still the worst sight in the world. I can’t bear the thought that I’ve upset you. It’s unbearable. I’m so, so sorry. Come here. Please.’ Somehow he was now hugging me, murmuring his sorrys into my hair. This, too, was wrong. But again my body was lagging behind my brain. ‘There,’ Dan was saying, ‘is that better? Does it feel good? It does, doesn’t it? Everything’s going to be fine, I promise. It’s been a confusing time for both of us, but I know how to make it up to you. You’ll see.’ And he moved from stroking my hair to stroking my cheek.
‘Don’t touch me.’ I twisted free, hands protectively raised. ‘Don’t you dare.’
We were both breathing hard. He was visibly trembling. There was a horrible pause. Then, ‘Were you like this with Adam?’ Dan asked, and I realised he was, in fact, shaking with rage. ‘Hot and cold? I bet you were. I bet you played him like a puppet on a string.’
‘This isn’t –’
‘Maybe Adam liked that. Maybe he was a masochist. He was an addict, after all. You were part of his problem, I bet. His addiction. Yes. I know the damage girls like you do. It’s not just that you’re a prick-tease. It’s that you’re an emotional terrorist.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ I said, staring at him. ‘No wonder your wife left you.’
It was probably just as well this was the moment our waitress returned to clear our plates. We both stayed frozen in place. A small part of my brain found time to wonder exactly what the girl had heard and how much of this might end up in the press. The clatter of cutlery shook us from our stupor. Tight lipped and white faced, Dan flung a wad of notes in the waitress’s direction, grabbed his coat and blazed out of the room. I followed him because, after all, I had nowhere else to go.
In the car-park, the elderly couple who’d been feeding the ducks were now sharing a packet of crisps on a bench. Without looking at me, Dan yanked my bag out of the car, flung it on the tarmac and took his place behind the wheel. The engine roared. He stuck his head out of the window to get the last word in. ‘Frigid little bitch.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
So there I was again. Stranded in the arse-end of nowhere after a blazing row with my (ex) fake boyfriend. This time it was raining, too.
The first thing I did was find a sheltering hedgerow to throw up in. The idea of that greasy wad of venison being inside me made me feel faint. I leant against a tree for a bit and tried to gather myself. At this point, my main thought was My mother is going to kill me.
Eventually I took out my phone. There were twenty new messages in my inbox. The subject line of the latest one was BETRAYER. I started laughing weakly to myself. Sure, the Momager would be out for my blood – but she’d have to fight Zalandra for it.
Our lunch had been a late one; it was getting on for three. I figured I was still about an hour’s drive from the house. Who could I call? I tried Talia but she didn’t pick up. Neither did Dido. Filming must have overrun. Nina would be in the car but she wasn’t due to arrive much before six. There was nothing for it but to slink back into the pub and ask about a taxi.
The place was a lot busier than before lunch. When I walked into the bar the assembled drinkers fell comically silent. I doubted this was in tribute to my scene-stealing turn in The Other Women. Our waitress must have spread the word that an emotional terrorist was on the loose.
I explained to the goggle-eyed bar staff, with all the briskness I could muster, that unfortunately my friend had had to return to London due to a family emergency, and I needed to find a cab. Teeth were sucked and heads shaken. The local taxi number was tried to no avail, but after further consultation, Joey’s-mate’s-nephew was called and an arrangement reached. There was a moment when I thought Joey was about to ask for a selfie as his reward, but I channelled the Momager’s best blood-freezing stare and he thought better of it.
At least there was a cashpoint just outside the pub. I took out my fare and found a quiet-ish corner to sit and wait for my lift. On the table in front of me were the leftovers of a weekend news supplement. I flicked through it idly. Anything to distract me from wondering which of the tabloids the waitress was busy emailing with her Hot Tip!!!, and whether the elderly duck-botherers would be in on it too.
Even though the confrontation with Dan was long over, the disgust lingered, like the taste of vomit in my mouth. I kept having to wipe my clammy palms on my jeans. Worst of all, I still had to face the house. Dido. Sarah. Talia. The swimming pool. How much, I wondered, would Joey’s-mate’s-nephew charge to take me speeding home to London?
When the man himself arrived, there was a moment when I thought he was the same spotty youth who’d manned the gates at Adam’s house party. He wasn’t, but I was finding the parallels to that night increasingly disorienting. The car was even similar to Tig’s – an ancient rust bucket smelling of weed.
My new chauffeur held the door to the backseat open for me. I could feel his eyes on my arse as I clambered in. ‘You’re the actress who was in that kids’ film, aren’t you?’ he asked as he settled into the driver’s seat. ‘The Christmas one, with the goblins.’
‘Mm.’
‘And you dated the dead actor. The one who drowned at the orgy.’
‘It wasn’t –’ I stopped myself. What was the point?
‘Terrible business.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s still the most exciting thing that’s happened round here for fifty years, mind.’ We lurched onto the main road. ‘So are you here for the film festival?’
‘Festival?’
‘I heard the actor’s girlfriend is going to set up a film festival down here. Get all the big celebs in. Hey! Maybe this time next year I’ll be giving Casilda Fernandez a lift back from the pub.’ He laughed. ‘And you know what I’ll tell her? I’ll say I had that – what’s your name again?’
‘Lily. Lily … Thane.’
‘Right! I’ll tell her I had that Lily Thane in the back of my cab once.’ He laughed even more uproariously. ‘So … what’re your plans for the weekend, then, Lily? Fishing? Boating? Bird-watching?’
‘I’m just seeing some friends.’
‘Ah. Well, if you and your friends are looking to “party”, I might be able to help out.’ He turned round and winked broadly. ‘With supplies and such, if you catch my drift.’
Jesus. ‘Thanks. I’ll pass.’
I’d absentmindedly taken some of the newspaper along with me, and now I shook it out and held it up in front of my face as a conversational deterrent. By a strange coincidence, the pages I’d opened included a profile of Casilda Fernandez. Her curves seemed even more luscious, her glow even more golden, than in her Wylderness days. The full cast list for her next feature had just been announced. I read the précis of the movie, and my breath caught.
I was so preoccupied when we pulled up outside the entrance gates that it took me a moment or two to realise we’d reached our destination.
‘So this is the actual house where the bloke actually died?’ my driver asked, craning his neck in vain hope of seeing past the trees to the scene of death-and-orgies. He was clearly disappointed when I said dropping me off by the side of the road was fine.
At least the intercom was working better this time.
‘Oh. It’s you,’ said Sarah Harker, her voice thick with dislike.
‘Lilyyyyyy!’ squealed Talia, drowning her out. ‘Yay! Come up, come up, come up!’
The gates creaked open. I squared my shoulders.
The last time I’d been there it had been a sunny June morning and the place had still looked fairly austere. It was mid-November now, and though the rain had cleared, austere had intensified to bleak. The high concrete walls, soaked by the recent downpour, were a splotched and darker grey. A fret from the salt marsh sent trails of mist through the dripping black pines.
I walked up the drive, once more hearing the lonely tap of my feet on the tarmac. This time, however, the grounds looked freshly trimmed and tended. No weeds in the drive, no tufty hillocks in the lawn. All the building’s lights were blazing. The bright glass under the dusk-grey sky made the blocks of the house seem oddly insubstantial, as if another switch could be flicked and they too would start to glow from within, like paper lanterns rather than cubes of granite.
Talia herself came running out of the house to greet me. ‘Lily! This means so much to me, I can’t tell you. Are you excited? Say that you’re excited!’
I gently extricated myself from her embrace. My cheeks were smeared with goo from her lip gloss, and her perfume was making my eyes water. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me down here. You’ve got a lot going on.’
‘Ha, yes – naturally everything’s overrun. It’s been fun but utter chaos. Your cousin’s being an absolute saint! Anyway, come in, come in. We’re just about finishing.’
When she saw me hanging back, she took both my hands in hers. ‘I know how you feel. I really do. But the energy of this place … it’s healing.’ Her eyes shone. ‘Breathe deeply, and let the light in.’
I struggled to keep a straight face. But when I walked through the door, the house did feel different. For one thing, it was immaculate. Not one speck of dust on the shelves, not one smudge on the window panes. For another, there was now some actual furniture – of the low-slung white and pouffey variety. And there were flowers everywhere: cascading profusions of pale blooms and dark ivy. They, and the scented candles scattered about the place, put me in mind of a church, or possibly a temple. Talia, now I came to look at her properly, was dressed a bit like a high priestess in a long gauzy dress of white and silver.
‘That’s quite some gown.’
She giggled self-consciously and gave a twirl. ‘It’s a bit much, isn’t it? Sarah convinced me, though.’
I followed her into the kitchen. We’d passed a pile of cables and other technical equipment in the hall, and I could hear people moving about and talking overhead. I wondered if Sarah was among them.
‘Are you appearing in the promo then?’
‘That’s all Dido, but me and Sarah are doing a print interview too. I wanted the photos and so on to be done outside, but obviously that’s tricky at this time of year, what with the weather and the light and so on. We had a hard enough time getting footage of Dido by the theatre site. So the photo shoot was mostly done in the house.’
‘Mm. It all sounds great. But, you know, once everyone’s cleared off, and before Nina gets here, I’d really like to talk to you.’
‘Absolutely! That’s what this weekend is all about, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve always been friends – good friends, I like to think – but the things we now share, things that only the two –’
‘Adam. Exactly. I’d like to talk about him, and …’ I hesitated. I couldn’t put this off any longer. ‘I’d like to talk about how he died, if that’s OK.’
I expected Talia to be all of a flutter. Instead, she inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said, once the moment was over. ‘You’re right. We should talk about that.’
‘Talk about what?’ Sarah demanded. She was framed in the doorway, wearing a crisp black trouser suit, with her hair slicked back. For a disconcerting moment, it was almost like looking at Adam.
‘One of my endless work dramas,’ I said smoothly. ‘You look great, Sarah. It’s a wonderful project you’re setting up here. Adam would be … amazed.’
‘Uh-huh. Thanks.’ She looked both impatient and bored. That, too, was a look I knew well from her brother. It seemed incredible that the last time we’d met had been at his funeral. Sarah had been half-crazed then, spitting her grief and bitterness into my face. And here she was, dressed in black again, but with the edges all polished. #InstaReady. ‘Tally? Daniel’s asking for us again.’
Talia looked torn. ‘Go,’ I said, gently shooing her. ‘I’ll be fine. We can catch up later.’
‘Are you sure? Sure? OK, well, I shouldn’t be long. There’s heaps of food in the fridge – help yourself to anything and everything. And look,’ she exclaimed, beaming, ‘here’s your cousin to keep you company! You girls have fun and I’ll be back before you know it.’
‘Lovely Lily,’ said Dido smoothly. ‘What a treat.’ After a perfunctory air kiss, she went to the fridge and helped herself to a bottle of water. She was wearing a man’s velvet smoking jacket over bare skin, with leggings and muddy biker boots. It was as ridiculous an outfit as Talia’s but, being Dido, she carried it off much better.
‘Well,’ she said, leaning against a counter-top. ‘I don’t expect either of us imagined ever being here again.’ She took a swig of water. ‘I take it you’re also “doing it for the kids”?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m just here to support Talia. The Adam Harker Fame Academy’s all yours.’
‘How so?’
‘You’re starring in the film. And I hear you’re going to be patron.’
‘We’ll see. The film’s just a promo to use in presentations – to lure sponsors, win over potential NIMBYs. That sort of thing. Three minutes of me preaching about the importance of theatre in the lives of the Youth. Lots of waving my arms over a muddy patch of grass and saying, “Imagine the marvellous theatre that will rise from the marshes of untimely death.”’
Her flippant tone surprised me. ‘It’s a long way to come for a charity gig.’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t sneer. It’ll be an impressive project if it comes off. Bringing art to the regions, opportunities to the underprivil-eged …’ Dido lowered her voice a little. ‘To be completely honest, I thought Grace Tang would be here. Or at least more directly involved in the process. I’m hoping she’ll rep me, so this would have been a good opportunity to connect.’
Interesting. ‘So Grace isn’t around?’
‘No. She sent someone from her office instead. Still, it’s a good sign that the Harkers are using her firm. Adam’s sister is surprisingly capable.’
It struck me that in explaining her reasons for getting involved, Dido hadn’t mentioned the obvious one. ‘I wonder what Adam would think of it all.’
‘His name’s just a hook to hang a good cause on.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘It’s rather touching you’re so supportive of Talia’s part in all this. From what I heard, your excitable little friend got together with Adam almost as soon as your plane left the runway. That must have stung.’
‘It did, at the time. Speaking of rebounds,’ I said awkwardly, ‘I only recently found out about Nick and Nina. It was quite a shock … You know that, er, Nina’s arriving later?’
‘Which is why I’m getting a lift home pronto – if I didn’t know better, I might think I was being set up for one of those ghastly reality shows where women are always throwing drinks in each other’s faces.’ Dido looked around, nose wrinkling. ‘That would be in keeping with the McMansion makeover, anyway. Look – do you want to get some air? I could do with stretching my legs before the drive.’
This was the opportunity I’d been hoping for, even if I took it up without much enthusiasm. Outside, it was chilly and damp, but my cousin’s one of those people who never feels the cold. She lit up a cigarette and dragged on it greedily. ‘De-licious,’ she said, shaking out rivulets of dark hair. ‘You want one?’
‘I’ve quit.’ Dan hated smoking. It had been an unofficial add-on to our contract that I’d give up the fags. (In more ways than one, ho ho.) Now, of course, I was free to return to whatever filthy habit I chose.
‘Good for you.’ It was almost as if Dido knew what I was thinking. ‘How’s it going with your new beau? Danny, is it? I gather he’s some kind of TV personality.’
A lurid jumble of tabloid headlines flashed before my eyes. ‘Little Lucie’s an Emotional Terrorist!’ ‘Lily Thane’s a Frigid Bitch!’ But any attempt at a PR whitewash would have to wait. Right now, I had other damage to control.
‘I don’t think it’s likely to go anywhere,’ was all I said.
‘That’s a shame.’
Dido stalked about and smoked in silence for a while. I wondered where our conversation was leading, but wanted Dido to be the one to begin. Presently, she led the way down the hill to where the garden ended and the salt marsh began.
