Could It Be I'm Falling in Love? (33 page)

‘Yes!’ he managed between snorts, tears starting to roll from from his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Rox, but a TV colonic?’ And then his whole body convulsed in a bellow.

‘OK, so it wasn’t one of my better moves …’ she said crossly. How dare Woody laugh at her? At least she’d been being proactive. At least she hadn’t been sat waiting for the phone to ring. At least she’d been
doing something
about her career! But Woody was really going for it – holding his sides, his gorgeous face creased into an expression that was halfway between pleasure and pain.

‘I’ve never heard anything so …’ he managed to squeak out between convulsions.

Roxy folded her arms. ‘Go on – say it,’ she said tartly.
‘Desperate!’

‘…
insane!’

And now the others were sniggering too. And the sniggers were turning into laughter, and the laughter into hoots.

‘Oh, come on, Roxy, admit it: it
is
funny!’ Holly giggled.

‘You’re as driven as a bus!’ Simon roared.

‘You’re mental!’ Chelle grinned through her gum. ‘I’d never show anyone my bum. Not without photo approval.’

Roxy looked around her. Everyone was in fits of laughter. But they weren’t laughing unkindly. For years, the colonic had haunted her. She’d got such stick about it from the papers, such disgust from her family and friends that it had never occurred to her it was actually funny.

And then she just couldn’t stop herself – a smile began to play on her own lips.

‘Yes, yes. As career choices go, I agree it was shit,’ she admitted, and everyone howled all over again.

‘But that’s why we need to talk about reality TV …’ she insisted as the room started quietening down. ‘So you don’t make the same gaffes as me.’

‘I’m so glad I didn’t do
Strictly Come Dancing,’
Sue said thankfully, wiping a tear from her eye.

‘Strictly
would have been an
excellent
move,’ Roxy assured her. ‘As reality TV goes, it’s the best!’

‘It is?’

‘Lordy, Sue!’ Cressida recovered her composure. ‘All you have to do is waltz around in a frock. It’s not like being parachuted into the jungle and buried in a box of rats.’

‘Rats?’ Sue clutched her cup of tea to her chest. ‘Oh, I don’t like rats.’

‘I wonder if I’ve still got the number for
Wife Swap.’
Terence mused. ‘Maybe I should call them back.’

‘You’ll need to find a new wife first,’ Roxy reminded him.

‘Rats, snakes, scorpions, fifteen million viewers …’ Simon raised his eyebrows at his own stupidity. ‘And
I
chose a season in panto. Barrington should have forced me into that jungle at gunpoint.’

Terence leant towards Sue. ‘I don’t suppose you can remember the name of that contact at
Strictly?’

‘I love
I’m A Celeb!’
bubbled Chelle. ‘I can’t wait for them to ask me – I’ve already bought the bikinis.’

‘Fuck!’

The smell of Obsession was back. In their mirth they’d forgotten about Austin. But he was leaning against Roxy’s wall, quietly taking it all in. ‘Tell me something …’ he said slowly. ‘How did you lot end up in Lavender Heath?’

Everyone fell silent. The only sound was the scratching of Holly’s pen as she diligently took down the minutes.

‘Austin …’ Woody’s voice was loaded with warning.

‘No, seriously, I’m curious …’ Austin pushed on. ‘The tabloids might make out I’m out of touch with reality, just because I don’t drink with bricklayers, or know how much a pint of sodding milk is, but I’ve not disappeared so far up my own arse that I’ve missed the fact that Lavender Heath’s an exclusive kind of village.’

Roxy was about to pipe up about her 2000 calendar paying off her mortgage, but Terence opened his mouth first.

‘What’s your point, Austin?’ He brushed a carrot-cake crumb off his stomach.

‘My point,
Rain Man
, is
exclusive
means
rich
. Exclusive means having enough money to keep the right kind of people in and the wrong kind of people out. I may not have a degree in economics, but I’d bet my house on the fact that none of you lot have earned money in years … Apart from Woody, of course, who, for some crazy-arsed reason, has decided to pick up pocket change peering through married women’s bedroom windows … Oh, and Kenny Branagh here–’ his eye fell on Simon – ‘who wears tights for the kids at Christmas.’

‘And this from the man who’s a stranger to a bathtubs?’ Terence muttered.

‘You guys aren’t has-beens,’ Austin said simply. ‘You’re never-weres.’

‘
Austin!’
Woody growled.

‘What? A man can ask questions, can’t he? And my question is this: how the fuck can you McNobodies afford to live in a posh corner of real estate like Lavender Heath?’

‘Oh, that’s just charming,’ Terence muttered.

Woody put down his drink. ‘I think it’s time I took you home. I’m not sure group activities are your thing.’

‘Oh, group activities are
definitely
my thing.’ Austin grinned wolfishly at Roxy, his Hollywood magnetism suddenly switching on. He moved to the sofa and sat next to her, his hand resting on her thigh.

Roxy gasped, oblivious to Chelle’s angry tut. Again, all logical thought about Austin disintegrated – the beard, the rudeness, the overpowering smell of ladies’ perfume – all forgotten against the power of his superstar pheromones.
Austin Jones was touching her thigh
. And not just the bottom of her thigh, either – the bit that was right up the top! She knew she should move away – people were watching;
Woody
was watching – but she couldn’t. She was paralysed by the electricity emanating from Austin’s fingers, surging through her whole body, firing up her libido and heating up all her rude bits.

‘I keep getting flashbacks of your arse.’ He grinned. ‘I like a girl who’s up for anything. Fancy seeing in Valentine’s with a poke from
my
pipe?’

Roxy gasped yet again. She knew she should slap him, but for some reason her arms seemed glued to her sides. All she could feel were his fingers on her thighs and their tantalising burn on her flesh.

‘Hey, Suga!’ Austin heckled Sue. ‘What was that trick you used to get up to with Hunt? I’ve never been able to look at a tube of smarties the same since. And I’ve fulfilled all my boyhood fantasies,
except one.’
His fingers started climbing Roxy’s thigh. ‘So, what d’you say, Feisty? Why don’t we give this lot something to
really
talk about.’

Woody jumped up – expression unreadable.

‘Right; that’s it, Jones – we’re going. And no–’ he heaved Austin off the sofa as he turned to protest – ‘it’s
not
open for negotiation. Next week, everyone, let’s meet in the Dog and Duck.’ He slapped Austin’s back.
‘You’re
not invited.’

‘A public house?’ Cressida straightened up. ‘That could be fun.’

The room erupted into chatter and everyone got to their feet. The meeting was over. And just as everyone started pulling on their coats, there was a quiet voice in Roxy’s ear.

‘Be careful with Austin.’

She turned. Woody was standing close behind her.

‘I think I can handle Austin,’ she said tersely. She’d forgiven the others for laughing at the colonic, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to forgive him.

‘Can you?’ His eyes searched her face for an answer.

‘What’s your beef with Austin, anyway?’ she grumped.

‘There’s no beef. I just don’t want you getting sucked in. He doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He breaks things.’

Roxy laughed. She was about to tell Woody she wasn’t daft, that she wasn’t gullible enough to be flattered into submission, that she’d met enough megastars to know the person they loved most was themselves – and that there was no way on earth Austin could ever break her heart. But then she stopped.
Surely Woody can’t be jealous?
He certainly looked uptight. His face was closed and unsmiling. And suddenly Roxy realised she
wanted
him to worry.

‘My private life is none of your business,’ she declared tartly, and then deliberately turned back to the group.

Everyone was discussing the pub. Cressida was already phoning ahead to book them the upstairs room for their meeting.

‘It’s a great chance to show off the duck egg,’ Roxy quickly told Sue.

‘Sugatits in duck egg?’ Austin raised a salacious eyebrow. ‘In which case, count me in!’

Cressida rolled her eyes. ‘For goodness sake, Woody, take that oversexed imbecile home.’

‘Come on, Jones.’ Woody gave him a prod. ‘You’ve outstayed your welcome.’

‘Me? Impossible! I’m number one on the Netmums fantasy shag list.’ But a moment later Austin had been bundled out of the door.

For a split second Roxy’s house fell silent. And then, just as she was trying to work out how she could possibly explain to the group why she hadn’t walloped Austin’s wandering hand into next week, there was an unexpected explosion, stage left.

‘He’s such an ungrateful, undeserving
bastard!’
Simon was suddenly puce. ‘He doesn’t
care
that Richard Curtis begs him to be in his films, or that Cameron and Angelina fight over being his co-star. He doesn’t have a clue what it’s like to have
nobody
fight over being your co-star, to have
nobody
beg you to be in their film –
or
their series,
or their bastard CBeebies mime show …
And, as for anyone offering him an ad …’ He started to cackle manically.

And then, as quickly as his outburst had started, it stopped. His body mass suddenly halved.

‘It’s all right, Si,’ Roxy said, and he limply sagged into her shoulder.

‘It’s not fair, Rox.’

‘I know,’ she said. And she did.

It was time to put the strategies into action.

To:
Roxy Squires

From:
Biddington Hospital Radio

Hi Roxy,

WOW!!! I never expected to get an email from FOXY ROXY! It really made my day (What am I saying? It made my year!!!!). I’ve always been a fan, from way back, when you got fined for saying the F-word on kids’ TV (classic!!!). And I’ve bought every single one of your calendars since 1997! (BTW, have you done any calendars recently? I’ve looked everywhere, but haven’t been able to find anything post 2002 …)

But back to the point … RADIO! Well, I never knew you fancied the move into radio. It’s a cracking idea – you’ll be BRILLIANT! But I had a word with my boss (small man – very narrow minded) and the idiot only said no! He reckoned ‘hospital radio isn’t a place for any Tom, Dick or Harry to try their hand at broadcasting’. Obviously I told him you’re not just any Tom, Dick or Harry – that you’re one of the best TV presenters Great Britain has ever seen, and that your series of interviews with A-listers in toilets is legendary, but he wasn’t having any of it. But I think you would have been brilliant cheering up the patients … a real shot in the arm (boom, boom!).

But WOW! Stay in touch, yeah? It would be great to have a real celebrity friend. Maybe you could pop in and sign your old calendars? (Although, sorry – the May and October pages for 1997 are a little bit, um, water damaged.)

Sue woke with a start. A noise had penetrated her dreams, a noise that sounded like … feet,
on her driveway
. She checked the clock at her bedside … 6.05. Her stomach filled with fear. It was too early for the postman, but someone was definitely there. Who’d come into her garden so early? And why? Terrified, she forced herself up. She crept over to the window, took a deep breath and peeped out. Nothing. Her garden looked quiet and peaceful. Heart beating wildly, she inched out of the bedroom to the landing.

As soon as she reached the top of the stairs she saw it … An envelope on her mat. She let out her breath. So it
had
been the postman, after all. With relief she headed down and picked it up. But then she frowned. There was no stamp or postmark. It must have been hand-delivered – but by whom? And why now, so early in the morning? Worriedly, she opened it and then gasped. Inside was a card – red and shaped like a heart.

Simon grunted and sleepily rolled over. Eyes closed, he groped for the alarm clock and its deafening, set-to-stun sound.