The Road to Her (13 page)

“It was awesome, yeah.” She seemed happy, so I could only guess that she’d either spent it with Stig or that she’d pulled another guy in another club somewhere. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to know.

We walked on in silence through the entrance. I deliberately didn’t ask her what it was that had made her weekend so awesome, really not wanting to hear about her getting it on with some guy.

“I was in Manchester all weekend,” Elise now said as we walked side by side down the corridor to our dressing rooms.

Not with Stig. Please, not with Stig…

“Staying with my parents,” she added.

Her parents!

I was practically weak with relief that she hadn’t spent the last day and a half under a duvet with Stig.

“It was good to chill out with them for a bit,” she said. “It felt as though I hadn’t seen them, like, forever.” Elise opened the door to another corridor and stepped back, allowing me to pass. “So I’ve allowed myself to be royally spoilt by Mum and Dad all weekend. It’s been great.”

“My parents live out in the middle of the countryside,” I said lamely. “I don’t get to see them so much, either.” I wanted to tell Elise that I’d had just as good a weekend as her, but of course I couldn’t. I’d barely left the apartment since I arrived home late on the Saturday after filming our promo shots, choosing to mooch around in my PJs thinking stuff over and over again rather than going out anywhere. I just hadn’t had the energy, the heart, or the enthusiasm to do anything other than brood, replaying past conversations I’d had with Elise, and past confrontations, too. I’d even stood in my kitchen staring at the spot where the spider had been, just thinking about Elise and how she’d made me laugh so much that night.

“Did you…did you do the clubs on Saturday?” I asked Elise tentatively, wanting to know whether she’d pulled again, but dreading the answer at the same time. “I hear they’re awesome up in Manchester.”

“Nah,” she said, slowing down as she approached her dressing room door. “I stayed in and watched a DVD with my mum. How boring am I becoming?” She bumped my shoulder playfully and I suddenly felt so happy, it was ridiculous.

“Anyway, see you in make-up in a bit,” she said, going into her room and closing the door after her. I stood and looked at her door awhile, thinking how stupidly relieved I felt that she hadn’t gone to Manchester with Stig, that she hadn’t gone out on Saturday night and—more importantly—that she hadn’t hooked up with another guy all in one weekend.

I bit at my lip, staring down at the carpet. Was it always going to be like this? Always wondering what Elise was getting up to? Being pathetically grateful when she told me she’d stayed in, whilst getting pathetically upset if I knew she’d gone out? I hated feeling jealous over her, knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

I wandered on down to my own dressing room, deep in thought. We had about another half hour before we were due in make-up, so I got my phone out from my bag and slobbed out on the sofa in there, surfing the net and catching up with the few e-mails that were lurking in my inbox.

My eye scanned it, filtering out the junk from the important in amongst the twelve unread mails in there. As I looked at the list, I felt a coldness rush down my arm from the phone, across my shoulders, and down my back. Sitting waiting for me in amongst all the other e-mails was one from Grace, sent late the night before.

I stared at her name, still in bold.
Grace Thomas.

I hadn’t seen her name for over two years, and now it hit me like a hard slap across the face. She’d never contacted me after she’d disappeared to Madrid—why should she have? She’d moved on the second she’d got on that plane at Heathrow, already thinking ahead to her new life with her new Spanish girlfriend. What had I mattered? Did she care whether I’d spent the best part of six months getting over her, living my life in a daze, throwing myself into my work because I knew if I didn’t, my world would collapse around my ears? No, she didn’t.

I pressed my thumb on her name and saw her message unfurl before me.

Hey Holly,
it began.

How are you? It’s been a while, huh? I just wanted to see how you are. How’s Jasmine treating you? lol Are you even still in the programme? I haven’t kept up with what’s been going on over there so I don’t know if you’re still doing what you did, or if you’re even still living in London.

I’m single again. Me and Pilar broke up—

Pilar? That was her name? I never even knew what it was.

I read the rest of her e-mail in a daze, not really taking in the stuff she was telling me about her work, and about how her parents were now living in Ireland, and blah, blah, blah. Her last few lines totally caught my attention, though, so much so that they got me sitting up on the sofa and reading them three times over.

I’m moving back to the UK but staying with my parents over in Ireland until I get myself something sorted in London. I’ll be coming through Heathrow on my way over to my parents’ place next Friday and I’d really like to see you, Holly. I’ve missed you—

What the…?

I read the last part again.

I’ve missed you.

Pity you never missed me all the time you were in Spain, isn’t it?
I thought savagely as I switched my phone off and flung it onto the sofa.

I thought my head was going to burst. Grace was coming home. More than that, she was coming to London and wanted to see me. Madness! Why now? Why fucking now? As if my head wasn’t puddled enough with thoughts of Elise, now Grace was coming in and screwing me up even more by not only telling me she was moving back to the UK, but that she missed me and wanted to see me.

I let myself fall sideways onto the sofa, turning onto my back and, drawing my knees up, lay back and stared up at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to do. Did I want to see Grace again, after all this time?

I was so over her.

Right?

Seeing her again wouldn’t be a problem.

Would it?

Why did she tell me she missed me? Actually, hang that. Why the hell did she feel the need to contact me—after two bloody years—to tell me that? Was it because she’d broken up with this Pilar girl and felt some need to tell me about it?

I rubbed tetchily at my eyes and glanced up at the clock on my wall. I was due in make-up in five minutes, but there wasn’t one part of me that gave a damn right now about make-up, about
PR,
about acting, or about Jasey. All I gave a damn about was thinking about Grace’s sodding e-mail. I picked up my phone again and read her message one more time, trying to absorb every word of it.

I’d just finished reading it when a knock at my door pulled my gaze to the clock. Five minutes had passed, which meant it was either one of the make-up girls coming looking for me or someone from the set in a foul mood, wanting to know why I was late. Knowing I should move, but not being arsed to, I remained stretched out on the sofa, numb.

“Holly? You in there?”

Elise.
I switched my phone off again and stuffed it into my pocket.

“Yeah,” I called wearily.

The door opened a crack and Elise stepped in, already made up and dressed in Casey’s clothes—her uni hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans, a large, tatty shoulder bag strung round her shoulders.

“They’re wondering where you are,” Elise said. “Make-up, I mean. They’re waiting for you.”

“I don’t feel so good,” I said, still lying on the sofa.

“Oh?” Elise entered the room and was by my side in an instant, looking worried.

“Nothing serious,” I said hastily, embarrassed that she’d felt the need to come to me. “Just a headache.”

“Again?” Elise crouched in front of me, an anxious look on her face. “Have you taken anything?” she asked. “’Cos I have some pills back in my room.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that bad,” I said feebly, swinging my legs down and sitting on the edge of the sofa. I put my head in my hands, staring down at my feet and pulling my hands roughly through my hair. Grace and her stupid e-mail would just have to wait for now. What did she want me to say? That I missed her, too? Truth was, I hadn’t thought of her for a long time, certainly not since I’d started working with Elise, anyway, and it had only been in the last few months that I’d really known for sure that I was finally over her.

I glanced up at Elise, now standing awkwardly next to me, and my insides dissolved at the sweet, concerned look on her face. So Grace was coming back, was she? Well, tough. This was my life now. Right here, right now. Grace was my past, and she could stay there.

“Shall we do this, then?” I scrambled to my feet and wandered to the door, not daring to look at Elise again on my way past her.

*

I just about made it through my scenes that morning, despite my mind frequently jumping between Grace and Elise, wondering what on earth I was going to do about everything. Despite telling myself over and again that Grace was nothing to me now, that she could go to hell for all I cared, I’d be lying if I said her e-mail hadn’t intrigued me, and that a small part of me wanted to see her again. But I didn’t know why. Maybe I wanted closure. Maybe I’d get that from seeing her just one more time. I also knew that if I did meet her, there was the huge possibility that I’d take one look and fall for her all over again, and that, coupled with my confusion over Elise, might just tip me over the edge. But it also might take my mind off Elise, mightn’t it?

In the days that followed, Elise sensed there was something wrong, too. How could she not? I was acting weird with her; I was robotic—even I could tell that—because all I could think about was Grace, and the fact that I hadn’t replied to her, and that the Friday when she was due to be in London was just a few days away.

We were filming the last scenes of the morning on the set of Jasmine’s front room, three days after Grace had contacted me, when I thought I might finally flip. I hadn’t slept properly since I’d read her e-mail, waking up in the dead of night just churning stuff over in my head, pacing my lounge, drinking a hot chocolate in the hope that I’d manage at least a few hours’ sleep. The lack of sleep and constant gnawing worry eating away at me were making me sullen and quiet, and Elise picked up on it straight away.

“So Jasmine’s parents are out in this scene.” Stuart paced the floor of the set. “Remember, her parents don’t know anything yet, so any chances Jasmine can take to be alone with Casey, she’s going to grab them, okay?”

I nodded wearily, sitting down on the prop sofa and tensing as Elise sat down beside me.

“You good to go?” Elise asked, seeing me pinch the bridge of my nose with my finger and thumb.

“Good to go.”

“Sure?”

“I just said, didn’t I?” I pinched my nose harder.

“Just a short scene, this one, to ease us into lunch.” Stuart stood next to the camera, his hand on the cameraman’s shoulder. “Scene three, take one. Cue Casey.”

Elise took a deep breath, casting a quick glance towards me, then was into her take.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see you,” she said, leaning back against the sofa.

“It’s like, you got into my head and I can’t shake you from there.” She turned her head slightly, catching my eye. “And you know what?” she said, “I like you being there.”

“You really mean it, Casey?” I shuffled slightly, angling my knees towards hers. “I thought when you said you were going out with that guy from the pub…”

“Lloyd?”

“Was that his name?” I asked. “I didn’t catch his name.”

“Lloyd means nothing to me.” Elise moved closer. “You’re the only one that means anything to me now, Jas—”

“Cut!” Stuart waved his arms. “You’re too quiet, Holly. Soundman didn’t pick up your last line. Can we go from
that guy from the pub
, please?”

Elise and I repeated our lines, but every word I spoke was a struggle. My voice sounded weak and thin, strained by the effort of saying lines I wished I could say to Elise in real life. What was happening to me? Why was my life apparently now playing out in the scripts that I was memorising? How could I have been so stupid as to confuse Jasmine’s life with my own?

“Scene two, take one.” Stuart’s instruction woke me from my thoughts. “Action.”

“Sometimes it feels like I’ve waited my whole life just to find someone like you.” Elise spoke her lines effortlessly. “Like everything I went through before, with all the guys who didn’t give a damn, was worth it because it brought me to you.”

We looked at one another, the cameras still rolling.

“Are you scared?” Elise pulled me to her, adjusting her shoulder slightly as I rested my head against it.

“Truthfully?” I lifted my head slightly and peered at her. “Terrified.”

“Me, too.” She pulled me closer to her again, allowing me to rest my head back on her shoulder. I loved hearing her heart beating in my ear and the feel of the gentle fall and rise of her shoulder as she breathed in and out. “But it
is
what you want, isn’t it?” she murmured softly.

“Casey, I’ve waited months to hear you say what you just said to me,” I said, aware of Stuart giving us thumbs up from behind the camera. I carried on from my script. “When I first knew you, okay, you made me nervous because you were so kick-ass, but then I realised I was only nervous because I liked you.”

“You liked me from the start?”

“Not at first.” Remembering where we were up to, I looped my arms around her waist, just as it had been written in the script. “You kinda grew on me. Once I realised that kick-ass attitude was all for show, and that underneath it all you were just a big softy,” I said, “well, then I stopped being scared of you.”

“That’s kinda cute.” Elise gave a half laugh and gazed down at me.

“Okay, cut.” Stuart appeared from behind the camera, peering down at his clipboard, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Good job, you two.” His voice reluctantly pulled my eyes from Elise’s. “Very good.” He made a winding motion to a runner nearby. “Quick break for lunch, then we’re on to the next scene, okay? Shooting on set three for that one, please. One o’clock sharp.”