Chloe's Rescue Mission (6 page)

‘Ooh, Chloe,’ she said, ‘I’m thinking, after the initial shock, you started to warm to him, no?’

I pulled out a caramel one, hovered my nose over it for a second and took a bite. The reward of crispy coating, sweet icing and buttery dough was sensational and comforting. I leaned back against the fridge and rolled my eyes.

‘Well?’ Beth grabbed her favourite with blackberry jam, and looked at me expectantly.

‘Delicious.’

‘Warren! How did you feel about Warren…really?’

‘It was creepy. At any moment I thought he was going to make a case for our reunion. But, he didn’t. He only talked about the theatre.’

‘Seriously freaky, though. Just turning up like that. I thought you were meeting some other guy.’

I told her Warren’s story.

‘Well I reckon you should phone the company, first thing, and check his credentials.’

‘I will.’

‘So are you saying he was just being professional?’

‘Mmmm. Although…’

‘Here we go.’

‘It kind of felt like he was trying to woo me again.’

‘Oh-oh...’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not interested.’

Beth tore off a piece of doughnut, exposing an oasis of jam. ‘But you used to be, and that’s what he’s banking on.’

‘Odd how someone so weird, clingy and insecure, could look so cute.’

She rolled her eyes.

‘You know it! I wasn’t the only girl who had the hots for him.’

‘He reminded me of an over-enthusiastic sheep dog doing agility training – lithe and athletic with boundless enthusiasm,’ she said, licking jam off her fingers.

It was a good image. His zest for life and his appreciation of the smaller things that went into it were what had drawn me to him. ‘You have to admit, after Jonathan, he was very appealing.’

‘Jono-Thug, you mean.’

‘He wasn’t that bad.’

She stared at me like I’d grown another head.

‘Okay, one too many bomb-shots and he could start a fight in an empty bar.’

He’d never hit me, I’m glad to say, but I’d always felt the threat of it. Jono had preceded Warren. Sober, he was serious and brooding with what I mistook to be an attractive sexual menace. Pissed he became more gregarious but could turn aggressive at the drop of an Irish whiskey into a Guinness.

‘So, what makes you think Warren was buttering you up for a romantic revival?’

‘I dunno. A kind of charm offensive. Smiling at me in a certain way…’

‘A Come-to-Daddy kind of way?’ Her nose wrinkled with distaste.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m being super-sensitive as usual.’ The doughnut comforted me for a moment. ‘He’s had his hair cut and looks, kind of, grown-up, now.’

‘Warren all grown up – from puppy-dog to lurcher.’

My mobile rang: Out of Area. ‘Hello?’

There was a delay and then, ‘Hi! Chloe, it’s Alicia-May, here.’

‘Alicia-May!’ I exclaimed. ‘Let me put you on speaker phone, I’m with Beth.’ I clicked to speaker.

‘Hi Beth! I’m so excited to be speaking to you both!’

‘You’re excited?’ Beth replied. ‘Is this Hollywood calling?’

Alicia-May cackled with delight. ‘Sure is, honey-child,’ she said in a mock Southern drawl. ‘I’m sitting in the Four Seasons, drinking a strawberry daiquiri and waiting for Idris Elba.’

‘No!’ we chorused.

‘Hell, I’m always waiting for Idris Elba. Bastard never turns up, though.’ The line erupted with her laugh. ‘But I got your email. Of course I’m going to help you – any way I can.’

‘That’s fantastic! Thank you.’

‘I’ve just got the shooting schedule for my next movie – how good does that sound – not bad for a girl from Barnworth with six GCSEs, hey?’

‘A-May, I’m sooo unbelievably sick with jealousy,’ Beth crooned. ‘If it weren’t for me getting pregnant and you being so freekin’ talented, it could be me drinking strawberry daiquiris and waiting for Idris Elba, Ryan Reynolds or any other A-list hunk out there.’

Alicia-May laughed again. ‘I am one lucky girl, I’m telling you. The breaks I’ve had. But, you know what? Joshua got me started in his theatre – and I haven’t forgotten that.’

‘
Kitten Heels and Kinky Boots
,’ we all said, and shrieked with laughter. It was the first play we were in together. Still teenagers – just.

‘So,’ I began, ‘any chance of you coming to the UK in the next few months?’

‘Well, here’s the thing, we’ve got a six-week shoot in London so I’ll be coming over at the company’s expense. I’ll get my assistant to free up some time for an interview or a photo-shoot. Whatever you girls need, I’ll do my best to squeeze it in.’

‘That’s brilliant. Thank you so much.’

‘And I thought I could donate my basque from my Broadway performance of Chicago. Maybe you could auction it off? It’s a bit sweaty. I ought to get it cleaned, really.’

‘Don’t!’ Beth leaned into the phone. ‘Sweat sells.’

‘Oh, gross!’ I slapped her arm.

‘So how’s it going back in Barnworth. Fill me in on the goss.’

Twenty minutes later, I hung up the phone and looked at Beth. ‘She still sounds the same, doesn’t she?’

Beth nodded. ‘Well, she’s still full of herself, that’s for sure.’              

‘Who wouldn’t be? At least she’s not so far up herself she ignored our request. It could’ve gone either way.’

‘You’re right. I’m being a bitch. I’ve only myself to blame for those nights of torrid sex with Zak and missing that London agent.’

‘Beth – he was looking for a black girl.’

‘That’s just a detail.’

‘Yeah, and Caribbean Princess would have worked just as well with you in the lead.’

She shrugged. ‘He could’ve kept me in mind for his next quirky little British movie. Then I’d have been signed by Disney, and doing my shopping on Rodeo Drive instead of Gloucester Quays.’

‘But there’d be no Tom.’

‘No Tom.’

‘You could always see A-May had a special quality; she was destined to be a star.’

‘Based on that theory, I was destined to be a single mother.’ She switched the kettle on again.

‘And me – what’s my destiny?’

‘Your own little castle, darling. And gorgeous, sexy men. It’s all before you. Nothing holding you back at all.’

Except the theatre, I nearly said, but stuffed more doughnut in my mouth.

If it hadn’t been for the theatre, I’d still have my lovely apartment, instead of a collection of furniture piled up in my mother’s spare room. I’d worked so hard to buy it all. Sacrificed and saved because having my own place was a huge deal. I’d let the flat while I was in Costa Rica but it had been a nightmare. The rent had barely covered my mortgage, and the tenant had driven Mum crazy with her demands and imagined problems; ‘Someone is letting themselves in and stealing my food. I want the locks changed!’ Mum changed her locks, three times. She’s a handy woman, my mother. Luckily, the tenant moved out when her twelve month tenancy was up, which pretty much tied in with the theatre’s shit hitting the fan and my decision to sell it to raise some cash.

Beth scooped instant coffee into a couple of mugs. Back at Mum’s, I had a state-of-the-art, cherry-red coffee maker – also packed away in the spare room. Buying capsules to go in it was a luxury I couldn’t afford, right now. Oh how I missed my coffee machine. Call me sad but I used to polish it every day and stroke its glossiness whenever I used it, just like I’d stroked my first pair of patent leather party shoes.

I kept the party shoes by my bed for weeks.

I’m not sad enough to sleep with my coffee machine.

‘You’re right. The world is my oyster,’ I said, after swallowing the last mouthful of sugary goo.

Beth turned to me. ‘And if you think the grit inside it is the theatre, just remember what an oyster does with grit.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Look on it as a fabulous opportunity. You’ve already met Duncan. He could be great for the theatre and he’s extremely eligible.’

‘Beth, keep with the programme, huh?’ I shook my head but a thought crossed my mind. ‘I bet he looks really hot in a kilt.’

‘Hey, you could save the theatre and bag yourself a Scottish hunk while you’re at it. And if not Duncan, you’re still gonna meet all sorts of other people in TV and business. Remember – Grandee always said something like, “Nothing we experience is wasted,” didn’t he?’

‘Yeah, but an actor would say that. Which reminds me. I’ve decided once the theatre is sorted, I want to get the rest of my life back on track. I was derailed by Warren, remember? I’m planning on going back to college.’

‘Really?’

‘If I can. But this time, I’d like to change my area of study.’

‘To what?’

‘Counselling. I’d like to use drama and role-play to help people rebuild their confidence.’

‘Like you did in Costa Rica?’

‘That kind of thing.’

‘Bloody hell, Chlo! Good for you.’ She gave me a big hug. ‘Good for you.’

She stepped back and passed me a coffee.

As I felt the hot and disappointing instant coffee slide down my gullet, I said, ‘Do you remember that time A-May went on stage with the back of her skirt tucked into her knickers? If only we had a picture of that to auction.’

On Thursday morning, a taxi drew up outside Juniper Cottage to collect me.

It reminded me of the morning, just over a year ago, when Mum had driven me to Heathrow. This time I was only going for three days but, same as last year, Warren didn’t know I was going so couldn’t follow me. Even though our meeting on Tuesday had been civil and his motivation appeared genuine, I simply didn’t trust him; or maybe I didn’t trust myself. What if there was an infinitesimal part of me that might actually fall for his charms again?

It really had been a sneaky way to get to see me. Why hadn’t he asked a colleague to make the first contact?

I had yet to send the surveyor’s reports to him. I’d deliberately held them back on Tuesday – till I had confirmation of the company’s interest. I hadn’t heard another peep out of him since our meeting but that didn’t stop me from flinching every time the phone rang.

How on earth had I ended up like this? Why had I lurched from one dysfunctional relationship to another?

Brooding, handsome, bomb-shot drinking Jonathan had preceded Warren. Jonathan was in his second year at drama school when I was in my first. Jonathan, who had seemed so mature, so self-contained and the perfect antidote to his predecessor – Ben.

Ben, like me, had been in his first year at drama school and was a livewire, a social networker – mad fun to be around. We met in the first week of term and I was drawn to him like a magnet. Lots of actors are confident in a social setting but he had a special type of banter – quick and funny without being hurtful. He’d pull your leg but you wouldn’t mind. And that twinkling smile of his…oh yes, I’d fallen for him on sight. It had taken a few meetings for him to ask me out – and by that I mean three nights on the trot in the Union Bar – but when he did, I thought I’d won the lottery.

It was all whirlwind quick. Once the flirting revved up, and we realised we meant business, our exit from the bar would have rivalled Road Runner. We sprinted all the way back to his digs, scrambled up the stairs and fell, breathless, into his unmade bed. I’d never done anything so reckless in my life, which made it all the more thrilling. For days we would rush back after studio sessions to tumble around in his bed or mine.

But nobody can keep up that level of activity.

Correction. Chloe Steele couldn’t maintain such physical indulgence and follow the full first-term programme. Ben, on the other hand, must have been mainlining caffeine and possibly some other stimulant, because the minute I asked for time-out, I got it – only more time than I’d bargained for. Within an insultingly short space of time, (two days to be precise) he was doing his Billy the Whizz impression, up Market Street, with a cocktail waitress called Suki.

Is it any wonder I next gravitated to the dark, handsome, second-year student who was, in our microcosmic world, revered for his hypnotic performance of Prospero in The Tempest? I hadn’t seen it, but I could imagine it. When we finally did date – God, that took a lot of effort because Jonathan wasn’t easy to land – I persuaded him to give me Prospero’s final soliloquy.

That was his home run. He bedded me straight after.

Months later, when Jonathan hurled verbal abuse at me in the Union Bar, I gave him
my
final speech. ‘Jonno, enough! We’re finished.’

I decided then, that if a man looks mean and moody – he probably is.

I dozed in the car, and woke as we came to a halt on a small airfield. I’d assumed we would leave from one of the international airports. Instead, after a man in a navy suit had checked my passport, I found myself being directed to a private jet. Stopping at the bottom of the short run of steps, I took a few deep breaths to calm my pulse.

Duncan was already on board and seated in one of the leather chairs. He was dressed casually, and had a laptop on the table in front of him. He smiled. ‘Afternoon, Chloe. Come and sit yourself down.’ I made my way along the narrow aisle to sit opposite him.

‘So,’ he fixed his gaze on me. ‘Are you ready to do some major networking?’

‘I think so. I’ve put together a bunch of information packs and I’ve got my ‘elevator pitch’ down to about eighteen seconds.’

‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘You do realise, probably your greatest asset is your personality. They say people buy people.’

I nodded slowly, absorbing that little comment. I was here because he’d ‘bought’ me, which could have an upside or a downside. I shifted in my seat. ‘I was studying the list of conference delegates, yesterday, getting some background on them. Quite impressive.’

‘I’ll go through them with you later. There are some who I think will be more amenable than others. But tell me, how did your meeting with that other potential backer go?’

He must have read the website, because I hadn’t told him about King Lloyd Holdings. ‘Ah, that.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘Old friend, thinks he might be able to swing a deal with his company to help us with the construction.’

‘How exactly – do the work, provide the funds?’

‘Something like that. It was a bit vague. I’m waiting for him to come back with their proposals.’

‘You don’t sound very sure.’

‘Like I said, he’s an old friend. Maybe his intentions are more generous than those of his company.’ I wasn’t about to bare my soul on this subject.

There was a heavy ‘thunk’ as the pilot closed the cabin door. I fastened my seatbelt and watched while Duncan folded his laptop away. Within minutes we were airborne, the green countryside retreating slowly beneath us. I shut my eyes. There might have been thirty whole minutes when I’d slept last night but for the rest of the time, I’d been trying to find a comfortable position and quieten my mind. Maybe I could catch a quick snooze now – my head felt woolly enough.

The next moment, my stomach plunged as the plane suddenly rose in the sky and dropped again very quickly. My eyes flashed open and found Duncan’s steady gaze. He nodded, ‘You okay?’

My stomach performed another somersault. I swallowed. ‘Yes thanks.’

‘Nasty bit of turbulence,’ he said. ‘I expect we’ll be through it soon.’

Swoop and soar!

I clutched at the armrests of my seat. Now would not be a cool time to confess to motion-sickness. I wasn’t usually affected on proper airlines unless the turbulence was catastrophic.

Swoop!

I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes again, humming quietly to myself.

‘Chloe, give me your hands.’

I opened my eyes again. Duncan was forward on his seat, holding his hands out to me. What was his game? We hadn’t even got to the his’n’hers suite, yet.

Soar and swoop!

‘Here!’ he said, more firmly.

I lifted my arms and placed my hands on the table. He took each one in his own and turned them over. I watched in confusion as he slid his thumbs along the inside of my wrists and pressed them into the soft tissue between the tendons. There was a slight crease between his brows and, up this close, I could make out a birthmark close to his hairline.