Could It Be I'm Falling in Love? (26 page)

‘D’you keep a diary?’

‘Roxy!’ Sue smiled in surprise. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve got something to show you … in duck egg.’

‘Yeah, sorry; hiya, Sue.’ Roxy lurched across the front doorstep and landed a kiss on Sue’s cheek. Sue couldn’t help it – she recoiled. And then worried. Had Roxy noticed? Oh gosh, she hoped not. She hadn’t meant to be rude; it was just she wasn’t used to being kissed. People didn’t normally do that – not to her.

But Roxy was too preoccupied to notice. She was wearing skin-tight electric-blue jeans, electric-blue boots, an electric-blue top and an electric-blue scarf, wound right the way up to her chin. It made her hair look even blonder, like she was a Barbarella smurf, or a futuristic lady from a pop video. Sue still couldn’t get used to this new look. She’d only known Roxy a few weeks, but already it was strange to see her with so many clothes on.

‘But do you, though? Keep a diary, I mean.’

‘Um…’ Sue wasn’t sure what to say. What she really wanted
to say was how pleased she was to see Roxy. She’d been desperate to show her her new purchase. She’d been meaning to take a trip around to her house for days, but hadn’t quite summoned the nerve. A trip out was frightening enough on a normal day, but now there was the extra threat of bumping into Austin … And, granted, she knew he rarely set foot out from behind his tall, swirly gates – but what if he did? What if he cornered her on the street and looked her up and down again – just him, and her, and that horrible smirk? No, she was safer staying at home. Thank heaven for internet shopping. What with her paper boy and Ocado, she might be able to stay in right the way until the next meeting. ‘Sorry, Roxy.’ She shook her head. ‘I never do anything exciting enough to put in a diary.’

‘But
did
you? When you used to go out and do stuff?’

‘Oh, yes!’

‘When you were S—
her?’

Sue thought. ‘Yes, I think so. I remember writing about all the modelling jobs I did and nice parties I went to, so I suppose I must have done – yes.’

‘So when you were seeing that politician – what’s-his-name,
Hunt
– and everything went public and the shit hit the fan … you were keeping a diary then?’

Sue’s insides began to clench. Even after all these years, her tummy still went funny whenever anybody mentioned Hunt, and
the trouble
. ‘Sort of,’ she said quietly. ‘But when everything came out in the papers, I was all over the place. I couldn’t focus on anything.’

‘But you did write anything?’

‘Just ramblings, really. They probably didn’t make any sense. Everything was a whirr.’

‘D’you still have them – your ramblings?’

‘Um, maybe. In the study, perhaps.’

‘Mint!’ Roxy’s face burst into a grin. ‘Sue, I think we’ve just found you a way back!’

Sue blinked. ‘Back where?’

‘Sue, have you ever thought about writing a book?’

‘A book?’

‘You know; a kiss-and-tell.’

Sue instinctively shrank back.

‘An
autobiography,’
Roxy hurriedly corrected. ‘A lovely hard-backed autobiography, with a classy photo and posh jacket. Your story, in your own words. A chance to tell the world who you really are and what falling in love with the wrong man cost you.’

‘Oh, gosh, Roxy; I really don’t think that would be a good—’

‘The housewives would love it! A real-life tale of sex, power and betrayal!’

‘About me?’

‘Yeah, why not? Everyone remembers the scandal. And Hunt and his wife are always gurning in
Hello
, introducing their new living-room rug, or whatever flimsy pretext their agent’s managed to spin. Why should they come out smelling of roses, and not you?’

But Sue wasn’t listening. The only word she’d heard was ‘agent’. Why would Hunt have an agent? He was a politician – not a celebrity. Or rather, he
used
to be a politician. Actually, now that she thought about it, she didn’t have a clue what he did any more. All she knew was that he’d had to give up his seat when the scandal broke and that, all these years later, he and Deirdre were in
Hello
quite a lot. Even though she normally devoured
Hello
, Sue could never bring herself to read the articles about them. She tried to flip those pages over before any of the pictures could register. But even the momentary flashes her eyes refused to miss told her that the Hunts were still together – happy, with their white teeth, golden tans and sunkissed hair.

‘Don’t you reckon it’s time you showed the world your side of the story?’ Roxy’s voice permeated her thoughts.

‘Oh; I don’t think—’

‘There’s sod-all money in books, of course, but that’s not the point – the book’s just the means to the end. Serialisation’s where the big bucks are. I reckon the
Mail
would be the best place for you.’

‘The
Mail?’
Sue echoed, her voice full of fear.

‘Yeah! We could stagger the revelations; string them out over a few Sundays. Then there’d be the book tour, of course … maybe a few after-dinner speeches at the WI …’

‘Do you mean the
Daily Mail?’

‘It’d be great practice before getting you on to telly. Daytime would be gagging for you, Sue. Phil and Hol’d kill to get you on their sofa.’

Sue quivered. ‘I can’t go on anyone’s
sofa!’

‘And then a few choice magazine interviews. Trendy ones, with glossy photo shoots. Nothing with any puzzles in it.’

Sue’s whole being had frozen. The words ‘glossy’ and ‘photo shoot’ had stopped her lungs inflating.

And then Roxy pulled out her trump card. ‘M&S!’ she cried. ‘That’s what we’ll get you! A Marks and bloody Sparks ad! You know, you’re still a very beautiful woman. And you’ve got loads of modelling experience. You’d be right up the street of the forty-plus gang. Hell, why should Twiggy get all the bloody work?’

Sue stared at Roxy aghast. Had she gone mad? Had Roxy actually gone insane? What was she on about with Twiggy, and book jackets, and the WI? Didn’t Roxy know she found it hard enough to get to the village shop, let alone whizz around the country doing speeches? Didn’t Roxy realise she’d spent the last thirty years hiding from the world and everyone in it? Why on earth would she draw attention to herself now? Sue opened her mouth to explain, but nothing came out.

‘Hey, what was it you wanted to show me?’ Roxy suddenly sounded sane again.

‘Huh?’

‘You said you had something to show me. You were excited.’

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Sue replied flatly. And it didn’t. All the excitement of her new purchase had been flattened under serialisations and sofas.

‘Of course it matters!
You
matter!’

‘No, really; it doesn’t.’

Roxy grinned. ‘Didn’t you say something about duck egg? Sue, have you splashed out on some
colour?’

Despite herself, Sue couldn’t help but begin to smile. ‘Well, if you’ve got a minute …’ And she scuttled off to her bedroom for her purchase. Shaking, she hurried back and handed Roxy a package wrapped in thick tissue and tied with an expensive ivory ribbon.

‘I found it online. I thought it might fit your description.’

She could barely breathe as Roxy unwrapped the tissue.

Roxy’s eyes widened in wonder. ‘Oh my God, Sue … Is this
cashmere?’

‘Mmm hmm,’ Sue replied, a slight wobble in voice. Had she imagined it, or had Roxy sounded impressed? Or was it surprised? No, it was more than just surprised; she was staggered!

The knee-length coatigan fell luxuriously open.

‘I’ve never seen cashmere so thick,’ Roxy marvelled as she held the material to her face in awe. ‘It’s so soft!’

Sue bubbled over with excitement. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it? I could shag it! It’s gorgeous! Put it on.’

Nervously, Sue accepted it back and shrugged her arms through the sleeves. The heavy cashmere felt wonderful. Instantly, she felt transformed. Suddenly she wasn’t just a former bit of tabloid trash whose mother had told her she didn’t want to know her … She wasn’t the woman Jeff had got bored with, or the person nobody noticed in shops …
She was a
somebody;
a mature but stylish
somebody
. She held her breath as she waited for Roxy’s verdict.

‘Bloody hell, Sue! You hot, sexy mama!’

Sue blushed. ‘Don’t feel you have to be polite …’

‘Polite?’
Roxy roared. ‘When am I ever
polite?
Sue, you look absolutely bloody rocktastic! Ten pounds lighter and ten years younger.’

‘I know it’s only a cardigan …’

‘It’s not a cardigan – it’s a statement!’

Sue beamed.

‘And it must have cost a bloody fortune.’

Sue’s cheeks burned again. She didn’t like to say it, but she hadn’t even looked at the price tag. Her marriage to Jeff may have been short, but it had been lucrative. How else had she been able to stay in Lavender Heath all these years?

‘Right – that’s it,’ Roxy declared decisively. ‘Grab your duck egg; it’s time for an unveiling!’

Sue looked at her blankly.

‘The pub, love – we’re going to the pub.’

‘The pub? As in public house?’

‘Nowhere fancy. Just the Dog and Duck. I’m meeting Terry there in …’ Roxy checked the time on her phone. ‘Fifteen minutes ago.’

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t …’

‘Why not? There’s bugger all on TV and you’ve got a new purchase to show off! There’s no point looking hot-to-trot if nobody’s there to see it. Come on; I’m buying.’

‘No, really, I can’t …’ Sue began to panic. How could she explain to Roxy that she hadn’t been to a pub since, well … since she used to go with Jeff? The thought of going to one now terrified her, even
with
Roxy. What if she had to go up to the bar to buy drinks? It wasn’t the money – she didn’t mind paying. It was just, how on earth would she get the barman’s attention? She’d be left standing there for hours! Didn’t Roxy know how invisible she was?

‘Can’t what?’ Roxy teased. ‘Can’t have a quiet drink with friends?’

‘I’m … I’m waiting for a phone call,’ she fumbled.

‘Bring your mobile.’

‘I don’t have one.’

Roxy snorted. ‘You don’t have a mobile? Are you for real?’

‘It’s from Australia. The call. I can’t miss it – not with the time difference …’

Roxy looked at her strangely for a few moments. Sue did her best to look confident, like a person who really was expecting an important phone call from the other side of the world.

‘OK, you win,’ Roxy said eventually. Sue tried not to sag with relief. ‘But, Sue …’

‘Hmmm?’

‘You can’t resist me forever. I
will
get you to come for a drink with me some day.’

‘OK,’ Sue conceded tightly.
Some
day sounded better than today. At least she’d have time to prepare, build herself up to it, work out a few conversation topics.

‘We’re going to be mates, you and me.’ Roxy winked as she backed up along Sue’s garden path. ‘Whether you like it or not, we
will
be friends!’

And then she was gone.

To:
Roxy Squires

From:
Red Carpet Premieres PR

Hey Rox!

V sorry, but our new boss has ordered a shake-up of our celebrity invitation database … and I’m afraid she’s taken you off it!

Brutal!

She says we can only invite celebs to our movie premieres with newspaper / magazine profile from the last twelve months. It’s an austerity thang. So – bottom line is – I can’t send you tickets for our West End premieres any more …

Soz!

xx

PS. But if you suddenly get into
Heat
, give us a bell!!!!!

‘Two more of your finest tequilas, please, landlord. And one for yourself whilst you’re at it.’

Roxy rifled her purse for another twenty whilst Dave peered at the tequila suspiciously.

‘I don’t drink continental,’ he told her. ‘You know where you stand with a Bass.’

‘Well, Bass yourself up on me, then, sweet cheeks! And give me two lager chasers whilst you’re at. I’m dizzy with all these trips to the bar.’

‘So, you’ll be needing my wheelbarrow, then?’

‘Eh?’

‘It’s the only way you’re going to get Tornado home, the rate you’re going.’ Dave nodded over to where Terence was sitting, a lone figure amid a sea of empty shot glasses. ‘He normally just has a mild.’