Billy and Me (11 page)

‘OK, see you in there,’ says Billy as he squeezes my hand, releases it and walks in to charm the awaiting press.

We watch Billy posing for the cameras and see him laugh as people shout things out to him about his pert bottom. Paul turns to me with another fake smile.

‘I’m so glad you understand, Sophie. It could be quite awkward otherwise. You see, it would be different if you had a public profile yourself, it’s hard to get past something like that, but well, it’s still early days and things can change in a flash. There’s just no point creating such a fuss over something that could dissolve as quickly as it was formed.’

His words ring in my ears as I break them down, slowly making sense of them.

‘You don’t think we’ll last, then?’ I ask him, as I look down and fiddle with a loose bit of black thread on my dress.

‘Not at all, I didn’t say that,’ he says, putting his hand on his chest in shock, as if my interpretation of his words is pure madness.

‘But that’s what you meant, though. Right?’

‘Sophie, don’t be silly,’ he says in a patronizing tone, resting a hand on my shoulder once again. ‘I just think we should take our time – this is a lot for you to take in at once. It could be quite overwhelming, that’s all. There’s a lot to learn.’

Yes, I think, and the number one thing I’ve already
learnt is to be wary of the people I meet, even if they do work for my partner.

Billy spends the next hour doing a variety of interviews with press about the play and chatting up the important thespians and critics in the room. I, unfortunately, have been stood next to Paul during that time. Luckily for me, though, instead of continuing with the conversation he started outside, he has decided to ignore me completely and has continually failed to introduce me to whoever he is talking to, causing me to linger by his side while attracting odd glances from his showbiz pals. Although it aggravates me that he is being so rude, I’m actually quite glad that I’m not being included, because now, thanks to Paul, I’m no longer in the mood to make small talk with strangers.

When Billy finally finds his way over to us, an hour or so later, he has a woman in tow, her arm looped through his. She’s wearing a little black dress, which she has partnered up with leopard print heels. Her bare, toned and tanned legs seem to go on forever.

‘Sophie, this is Ruth Banks from the show,’ says Billy, introducing us.

‘Ah!’ I say, recognizing her as the blonde with the enthusiastic hair-swishing talent.

‘I just wanted to come over and say hello. Plus, OMG! So sorry about the whole blow job thing … how awkward?’ she says, putting her hands to her cheeks in mock shame, causing Billy to laugh.

‘Oh …’ I say with a smile, swiping the air with my
hand as if brushing the subject aside due to its unimportance. Clearly this isn’t actually how I feel about the whole thing, but I’m not entirely sure how one should react in these circumstances. I’d rather not have her mention it at all – especially seeing as Billy hasn’t referenced it in the slightest.

‘Seriously, they made us do that on the first day of rehearsals as well – talk about getting to know each other quickly. I just didn’t know where to look!’ she giggles.

‘Ruth, you’re making it sound like I’ve actually been swinging my bits in your face,’ Billy says, bemused, while shaking his head, a flicker of annoyance in his voice. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been safely under wraps, at all times!’ he says to me, as he pulls me into him and kisses my forehead.

‘Aww, you guys are so cute!’ squeals Ruth. ‘He talks about you non-stop!’

Paul, noticing that Billy has returned (and no doubt annoyed that he has his arm around me in public on his ever-so-important night), waves his hands in the air to grab his attention.

‘Bill, you must come meet Clarissa Hall from
The Times
,’ he calls, beckoning him over. ‘She’s been dying to hear about your process of finding the character and how you’ve coped under the pressure.’

‘Sure!’ Billy says, loosening his hold of me.

‘You’ll be ok with Ruth for a bit, Sophie. I’ll bring him back,’ Paul says as he hurries Billy along.

I look at Ruth, my designated babysitter, and smile.

We don’t know each other.

This is uncomfortable.

‘So, what do you do then, Sophie?’ she asks, tilting her head to the side as though she’s genuinely intrigued.

It’s the question I’ve been dreading, but seeing as pictures of me in my uniform have been in the papers and the majority of people in this room have probably seen them, I can’t really shy away from it.

‘Actually I’ve not been in London long.’

‘Oh, right?’

‘So I’ve just got a little job to tide me over until I find something else more permanent.’

‘So where are you at the moment?’ she digs.

‘Coffee Matters?’ I don’t know why I say the name as though she’ll never have heard of it before, she clearly would have. I watch as a flash of pity and disinterest flicker in her eyes, before she manages to drum up her reaction.

‘Oh, how lovely,’ she says, unconvincingly.

‘Not really, but it’ll do for now,’ I smile, hoping my honesty will banish the awkwardness that now sits between us.

‘So many of my friends are in the same boat, having to do jobs they hate while trying to get somewhere in life. Oh gosh,’ she says suddenly, grabbing my arm and looking over my shoulder at someone behind me. ‘An old friend from drama school has just walked in, I’ve got to go and jump on him. Do you mind?’

‘Not at all!’

‘Great. Back in a sec,’ she beams, as she literally runs
and catapults herself onto the unsuspecting man’s back with whoops of joy.

I play around with the straw in my glass and look at the people around me who are making the most of this networking event. They’re all laughing and talking excitedly to one another whilst occasionally giving quizzical glances at the girl in the corner, who is standing on her own.

Me.

Later that night, after hours of watching Billy circulate the room with Paul eagerly placed by his side, we both climb into bed. A small slice of light coming from the hallway illuminates the room gently, enabling us to see the room and each other. After a minute of silence Billy turns to me and runs his fingers through my hair.

‘Did you really enjoy the show, baby?’

‘I thought you were great, honey …’ I say, putting on another smile and looking at him briefly before gazing back at the ceiling.

‘But?’ he says slowly.

I sigh. I’m acutely aware that I either let the whole thing slide by, not wanting to cause a problem, or I just say what’s on my mind so that I can get reassurance of some kind that I’ll be kept in the loop in future. As I’d rather not get the shock of my life again in a crowded room, I decide to be honest.

‘Well … I wish you’d have warned me about certain moments.’

‘Oh …’ He stops fiddling with my hair and sits
up, leaning on his elbow. ‘I said it was dark and dirty, didn’t I?’

‘I don’t think you said dirty, but either way, it just would’ve been nice to know that you were about to expose your butt to the world,’ I explain. ‘And that you’d have someone so close to your bits pretending to, you know …’ I continue, not able to look him in the eye.

We lay in silence for a few moments.

‘You know Ruth never actually saw anything, right?’ he says, rubbing his thumb along my cheek and chin, trying to soothe my thoughts with his actions as well as his words.

‘Right …’

‘Seriously, I think she was just feeling awkward about the whole conversation and just blurted stuff out. It’s not easy doing scenes like that and then meeting people’s other halves. Honestly, I’ve had my trousers on the whole way through rehearsals, it wasn’t until we got in to the theatre for tech rehearsals that I actually had to pull them down and, to be honest, I was more concerned with getting my butt out and whether the audience could see the G-string up my crack – which I have to say was not very comfortable.’

‘Lovely!’ I say, at the grim image, although it’s good to know he was properly covered up, of course. ‘How do you even rehearse something like that? I mean, you must need to get into it or something. It must get you … excited.’

‘Baby, I’m acting,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘Plus, even
in rehearsals we had the director with us and all sorts, so I was always concerned about making it look right and standing at the correct angle or whatever. It’s professional and it’s just work. I’m not stupid enough to think what’s happening at work crosses over into real life.’

‘But yet you have dated your co-stars,’ I blurt.

‘What?’ he says, pulling away from me as though my words have literally punched him backwards.

‘Well, obviously at some point with them it became a reality …’ I say meekly, instantly regretting having said anything about his past. I hadn’t even thought of this earlier, so have no idea where the concern has come from.

‘That was completely different,’ he says dryly, looking away from me.

We sit in silence, unsure how to correct what’s been said and erase the negativity between us, which has never been there before.

‘I’m sorry …’ I start.

‘No, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for,’ he says turning back to me slowly. ‘I was single then, Soph. Everything was different back then. But baby, I’d never do anything to hurt you. You must know that?’ His arms engulf me, making me feel safe once more.

‘It was just strange for me, you know?’ I explain. ‘I’m not used to any of this.’

‘I know. I should’ve told you what was happening right from the start,’ he says with a pained sigh. ‘I knew it.’

‘Why didn’t you, then?’

‘I thought about it, I mentioned it to Paul.’

‘And what did he say to do?’ I ask.

‘He said it was best not to worry you unnecessarily. That I’d make you think it was worse than it actually was.’

How interesting that Paul had queried the fact that Billy had chosen not to say anything about it, when he’d specifically told Billy not to tell me.

‘I see …’

‘How was it with Paul, by the way?’

‘Fine. I’m not sure he likes me very much though.’

‘Really? I’m sure he does. It was just a stressful situation tonight, lots of schmoozing to be getting on with. He was probably just preoccupied. I’m sure you two will get on like a house on fire soon enough.’

‘Maybe,’ I say, deciding not to tell him about the conversation outside and Paul’s flippant behaviour towards me. Perhaps Billy’s right and it was just a tense night for him, his keenness to get it right leading him to act bizarrely. Maybe …

Molly calls me on my way to work the next day, for her daily catch-up. I can’t help but feel sorry for June Hearne as I’ve obviously pinched her early-morning gossip slot, although I have no doubt that Molly will be straight on the phone to her telling her anything interesting I’ve said, so it probably makes their calls more exciting.

‘So, what was it like to see him up on stage?’ she asks.

‘Amazing! Honestly, Molly, I’ve never seen anything like it! The whole production was incredible.’

‘Better than the local amateur dramatic group then?’

‘Just slightly,’ I laugh. ‘There were some rather interesting parts, though …’

‘Interesting?’ she queries.

‘Yeah.’

‘That doesn’t sound good.’

‘No, it was fine, I just got to see a bit more of him than I thought I would.’

‘Oh …’ Molly says stunned.

‘Just his bottom!’ I say, feeling the need to clarify in case Molly starts telling the world that Billy got his willy out on stage.

‘Oh, is that all? I thought you meant the front bit. Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing that.’

‘Molly!’ I laugh.

‘I meant the play … obviously!’ she cackles. ‘I can close my eyes for that bit if you like, although think before you ruin an old girl’s little bit of fun. Anyway, how was the rest of the night?’

‘Yeah, fine.’

‘What were the people like?’

‘Pleasant enough. I mean – everyone knows everyone.’

‘Did you feel a bit out of the loop?’

‘How’d you guess?’ I laugh. ‘It’s all so cliquey.’

‘Oh yes, but that’ll change in time. They don’t know you yet, duck.’

‘I met his manager too.’

‘What was he like?’

‘I don’t think he likes me.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, he’s just a bit cold towards me. As though he’s worried I’m going to corrupt his top act or something.’

‘You? Corrupt him?’ Molly cackles.

‘I know!’

‘I’m sure he meant nothing by it though, love. Billy’s been with him quite a while, so he can’t be that bad. Maybe he’s just wary of new people. It’s a tough business – just see how it goes, duck!’

‘Yeah. I might have read a bit too much into it,’ I say, wondering if that could actually be a possibility and if he’s woken up this morning regretting his harsh words. ‘I know it’s stupid, but it also irritates me that he calls Billy Bill. It’s not his blooming name and it sounds so … pompous!’

This causes Molly to laugh her head off as though I’ve gone mad.

I think about mentioning some of Paul’s rude comments from before the party, but decide against it. It could be that he is just wary of people’s intentions when they get close to Billy and is looking out for him. I’ll give Paul another chance, I think.

That night, while I’m in the kitchen loading raspberries on top of a freshly made Pavlova, waiting for Billy to come through the door after the show, the phone rings.

‘Hello?’

‘Sophie!’ booms Billy’s voice.

‘Hey! Where are you?’ I ask.

‘The guys suggested going out for a drink. You know, so that we can chill out together now that Press Night’s out of the way.’

‘Oh …’ I say, looking disdainfully at the fruitful Pavlova in front of me that will no doubt go to waste now. ‘That sounds like a nice idea.’

‘Well, we’ve seen a few of the reviews and you’ll never guess what – we’ve mostly been given five blooming stars!’

‘Wow! Congratulations,’ I cheer. ‘But I thought you told Paul you weren’t going to look at them,’ I say, slightly agitated that Paul’s won in some way.

‘We weren’t, but Ben’s mum phoned him up when we were getting ready to go on stage. She was all excited, we could actually hear her squealing down the phone. Once we knew it was good news, we decided we might
as well actually read them, so we looked a few up online. They’re brilliant! That’s another reason why we thought we should go out, so that we could celebrate the good news.’

‘What did they say, then?’

‘Basically, that they all loved the play and found it exciting, thrilling and sexy. Ooh, one said that I was a pleasant surprise and that the only disappointing thing was that I hadn’t made the move to theatre sooner,’ he says, proudly.

‘Well, that’s amazing! Congratulations,’ I say. ‘No wonder you want to celebrate!’

‘Come out!’ he asks suddenly.

‘What?’ I laugh, looking down at my purple pyjamas covered in little cartoon penguins.

‘Come join us.’

‘Oh, honey …’ I hesitate, contemplating the idea. Should I run and change my clothes, put on a bit of make-up and meet him? Obviously, it would be nice to spend some time with him outside of the flat, and great to meet the cast properly after only speaking to them briefly last night as we were leaving, but I have work tomorrow. Plus, I’ve never been good at being spontaneous. If he’d asked me earlier, even in the show’s interval, then I might have been tempted, but the thought of changing my plans suddenly makes me inexplicably nervous. ‘Sorry, Billy, but I’m ready for bed.’

‘Come in your pjs! You look cute in them!’

‘Nah …’ I respond, making up my mind. ‘But thank
you. You just have fun with everyone. I’ve got to be up at seven for work, anyway.’

‘Are you sure? I promise I won’t be long. We’ll probably only have a drink or two. I think everyone is still shattered from last night.’

‘That’s OK. I’ll see you when you get in.’

When I put the phone down after saying goodbye, the flat feels emptier and quieter than before. I stand there rooted to the spot for a short time, feeling lost and unsure of what to do with myself. I don’t feel like watching television or reading a book. I don’t feel like doing anything. I feel deflated. I feel empty.

I look about the flat, at the objects that surround me. It’s all pretty much still Billy’s stuff, all placed where it was when I first came to visit. I did bring a few objects with me when I moved here, a reading lamp, a pile of books and a couple of photos, but I didn’t want to intrude on Billy’s space. I know that’s silly, seeing as we were moving in together, but I simply didn’t want to start moving his belongings aside to make space for mine. I didn’t want it to look like I was taking over.

Billy did urge me to, though. He wanted it to feel like my home too, and not just somewhere I was staying. He thought it would help me to feel more settled here. Looking around the room now, I wish I had listened to him. Although would objects make me feel any better? I’m not sure even seeing my beloved Mr Blobby cuddly toy would be able to help muster a smile right now.

I put a glass cake dome on top of the Pavlova and leave it out on the side for Billy to see when he gets
home. No doubt he’ll have a slice before coming to bed. I pour myself a glass of water and go to the bedroom where I climb under the sheets and close my eyes, ignoring the loneliness that niggles away at my heart.

I’m woken by the sound of laughter. Loud. High-pitched. Laughter. Dragging me away from my dreams.

I open my eyes a smidgen, and take in the darkness of the room. It’s late.

A mixture of voices starts to echo its way down the hallway and into the bedroom. Several people, all talking over each over in joyous animated tones.

What is going on?

Who are all these people that have interrupted my sleep?

Why are they here?

My sleepy mind can’t quite cope with the unexpected commotion and is slow to piece together an explanation.

Billy.

He has decided to bring people back to the flat.

Why would he do that when I told him I needed to be up early in the morning? I roll over to find out the time; it’s two in the morning. What is Billy playing at?

The bedroom door slowly opens, letting in bright light from the hallway, irritating me further. For some reason Billy decides to crawl on his hands and knees across the room, on to the bed and up to my face.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks in a childlike whisper – clearly having decided to have a few more than the one or two drinks he had promised.

‘Sleeping!’ I say, hoping my dull tone conveys the fact that I’m not impressed.

‘Ha! No you’re not!’

‘Billy? What’s going on?’ I plead, wishing I was still asleep as my face refuses to relax its groggy frown.

‘Oh, baby! You said you didn’t want to come out so I thought I’d bring the party home. Now you can stay in your pyjamas!’

‘But I have to be up in a few hours.’

‘So?’

‘So? So, Billy, I need to sleep!’

‘But it’s only Coffee Matters!’

I know he is right. I know that my job in blooming Coffee Matters
isn’t the best job out there, but nevertheless his words bother me. Why should my job be any less important than his?

‘Come oooooooooon …’ he begs, tugging at my arm to try and get me to go with him.

‘Billy, I said no!’ I snap as I yank my arm back and tuck it under the covers.

‘But you’re being so boring! I just want us to have fun. Why won’t you let us have fun together?’

I don’t reply. Instead, I close my eyes and clamp my jaw shut, trying to block out his drunken words.

‘Right. Don’t worry about it!’ he grumbles as he rolls off the bed and walks out of the door, leaving it wide open.

Have I gone mad? Is this a lovely thing for Billy to do so that I can join in the group? Or is it just selfish and inconsiderate when he knows I need to sleep? But then
it is Billy’s flat. I can’t exactly moan about it and start imposing rules on the place … can I?

Judging by the sounds coming from the other room, Billy hasn’t decided to ask everybody to leave. Instead, I listen to them all laughing, talking and singing, not caring that there’s a person trying to sleep in the next room.

I lie there for a while, trying to block them out, but it’s no good. I can’t sleep knowing that there are other people in the flat – especially as they probably know I’m here and choosing to stay in the bedroom instead of going to see them.

Argh!

I climb out of bed, glance at my face in the mirror to check it isn’t too horrific and puffy from being asleep, and make my way into the lounge.

Billy and four others are sprawled out across the sofas – their arms and legs draping all over each other like some sort of Renaissance painting. I recognize them all from the show. On one sofa James, tall and blond with the face of an angel, has a wine glass resting on his knee while he leans back against Ben, built like an athlete and with the poshest voice I’ve ever heard. Ben has his legs up across Fiona, the youngest of the group, who puffs away on a cigarette while wolfing down a huge helping of the raspberry Pavlova I’d left out on the side. I’m not sure which of her two activities I’m more annoyed at.

On the sofa opposite them is Ruth, the blonde girl who swishes her head in front of Billy’s manhood at
the start of
Dunked
. She has her head on Billy’s lap, while he has his arm resting along her body and his hand placed on her thigh. Their closeness makes me inwardly squirm and feel uncomfortable. They look like a couple. I have a sudden urge to drag Billy back to the bedroom and ask him what he thinks he is playing at, but I don’t. There are people here. I don’t want to make a scene and appear like a bunny boiler of a girlfriend.

‘Hey …’ James says, noticing me, and causing them all to look in my direction.

Nobody jumps up to rearrange themselves – they all stay in their comfortable positions, as though there is nothing wrong or inappropriate with the affectionate way they’re sitting. Perhaps there isn’t. Maybe my awkwardness at it says less about them and their theatrical chummy ways and more about me and my inability to be so free and open.

Billy looks at me with a beaming smile – full of innocence, ‘You decided to join us!’

‘We didn’t wake you, did we?’ asks Ruth, rolling over and placing her hand on Billy’s knee as she does so.

‘Well –’ I start.

‘This cake is delicious!’ squeals Fiona, stuffing in another mouthful. ‘Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything so tasty before in my life!’

I smile back at her. She might’ve eaten something I hadn’t intended for her – but at least she’s enjoying it.

I stand there with them all looking at me, not quite
sure what to do or say. Should I go over and lounge on the sofas with them all – perhaps cuddle up to James or Ben? Shuddering at the very thought of it, I do what I know best.

‘Can I get anyone a drink? Tea? Coffee? Something to eat?’