Could It Be I'm Falling in Love? (54 page)

Simon turned and looked at Linda. He’d been worried that the madness lurching just over the barrier might faze her. But his wife was smiling serenely, taking it all in her dignified stride. God, she looked beautiful tonight, he thought with a thump of emotion. Not a day had passed since they’d first met when Simon hadn’t silently marvelled at his wife’s gorgeousness and wondered how a hawk-nosed nobody like him had ever struck it so lucky. But Linda was beyond her normal levels of gorgeousness tonight … Tonight she was premiere-league dazzling. She easily outshone the Hollywood starlets posing bonily a few metres away.

And then Simon’s eye was diverted.

On the other side of the barrier, a familiar-looking BBC newsreader was looking unfamiliarly frightened. Dressed in a smart suit and hard hair, the household name was overwhelmed by the animal crush.
What the hell am I doing here?
her face seemed to say.
Why couldn’t they have left me behind the news desk, like normal?
But then she nervously cracked elbows with her TV-news-crew neighbour, as she did her best to stand her ground on a tiny patch of Leicester Square pavement.

‘Mr Drennan!’ she yelled. ‘A few words for the BBC?’

She anxiously thrust forward her microphone, as much a
barrier to prevent him from passing, as a device to hear him speak. Simon could see her relief when he stopped.

‘Mr Drennan, how does it feel to be Britain’s hottest Hollywood export?’ she asked quickly, as a dozen rival TV microphones muscled in.

Simon smiled. ‘Well, I don’t know that I’m that, exactly …’

‘But critics are hailing this
the
hit movie of the summer,’ she pushed. ‘Did you ever expect you’d be starring in such a huge Hollywood hit?’

‘It feels amazing to be starring in
any
movie – let alone one everyone’s being so nice about. I keep waiting for someone to tell me it’s all been a mistake – that they meant to book Colin Firth, and he’s turned up now and I have to go home.’

‘Could you tell us what first drew you to the role of the hero, Jake Love?’

‘In two words –
Austin Jones!’
Simon smiled. ‘When he told me he’d bought the rights to Holly Childs’ new novel and that he was going to produce the movie, well … I just thought he was offering me a support role: second party-goer, third taxi-driver, or something like that. But when he offered me the lead, my wife had to scrape me up off the floor.’

‘And what are your plans now? Are you going to stay in the UK, or is Hollywood calling?’

Simon started to answer, but the BBC’s time was up. The PRs swept him along, away from the TV mics, to where the photographers were waiting. Simon looked at Linda, who beamed him a smile of encouragement before letting go of his hand and standing aside with Carmen.

Simon stepped up to his spot where Austin was already waiting, suited and booted in a dinner jacket.

‘Downton!’ Austin greeted him with a bear hug. Flashes popped like fireworks around them.

‘Your stomach’s gone!’ Simon shouted over the noise as Austin finally released him.

‘Man Spanx.’ He grinned, slapping his stomach. ‘Couldn’t have my belly upstaging your big moment.’

The two men posed for the cameras, then Austin slapped him on the back.

‘Milk it,’ he said in Simon’s ear.

‘But this is absurd!’ Simon laughed incredulously at the bank of flashlights that looked more Vegas than WC2.

‘Milk this fame bitch to within an inch of her life,’ Austin instructed. ‘See you inside.’

And he left.

And Simon faced the photographers alone.

And, to his astonishment, the fireworks didn’t diminish. If anything, the lights only grew brighter. Simon stood stockstill in amazement as wave after wave of flashbulb heat enveloped him, and the whole world dissolved into a haze of euphoric, loved-up white. This was it; fame at last! And
Christ
, it felt
INCREDIBLE
. He soaked it all up and breathed it all in, turning from left to right and back again, so the photographers could get the shots they craved. And still the clamouring continued. Simon posed and smiled, and smiled and posed. He posed until the flashes burned his retinas. He smiled until his muscles went stiff.

‘Right, that’s it, boys!’ cut in one of the PRs. ‘Mr Drennan has his premiere to go to.’

The photographers put down their cameras and became human.

‘Good luck, mate!’ a few of them called.

‘Yeah, good on ya, Simon. Well done!’

‘Thanks. Thanks a lot.’ Simon was touched by their good will. But already the PRs had swept him away and suddenly the noise and mayhem of the red carpet dimmed, and Simon found himself in the harbour of the Odeon foyer.

‘Here he is: the man of the moment!’ Woody cheered, and his friends flocked around him with hugs. All of the Lavender Heath mob were there; even the twins were lurking by the confectionery, looking considerably more smiley than normal.

‘You rocked!’ cried Roxy, a ravishing brunette these days. She beamed at him happily, Woody’s arm wrapped snugly around her waist.

‘How would you know?’ Simon laughed. ‘You two sneaked in the back door.’

‘We could hear the cheers from the pub.’ Roxy grinned.

Austin looked cross. ‘You’ve been to the pub?’

‘To toast your success with tequila,’ she protested.

‘What can I say?’ Woody shrugged. ‘She’s a bad influence on legs.’

‘Fuck, tequila sounds good,’ Austin lamented. ‘I can’t believe I wasn’t invited.’

‘You were busy.’ Woody laughed. ‘Sucking in your gut and doing executive-producer-type things.’

‘Needs must,’ Austin agreed, disappointed.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ countered Cressida. ‘I quite enjoyed my turn on the red carpet.’

‘You were brilliant, Cress,’ squealed Chelle. ‘Looked like you were born for stardom, didn’t she, Dwayne?’

Dwayne obediently agreed.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Cressida protested. ‘I merely put one foot before the other until I arrived at the destination. All I’m saying is, as experiences go, that one was more pleasant than expected.’

‘Oh, shut up, Cress; you were lovin’ it! You even bollocked the snappers for being too loud. ‘Ere, did you get that bit?’ Chelle turned to a film crew nearby. ‘Me being friends with a politician? They’re from Sky Living,’ she explained. ‘They’re following me and Dwayne round for a new reality TV show. Mental, isn’t it? Come on,’ she instructed the crew. ‘Wanna film us finding our seats?’

‘Well done, Simon.’ Sue gave him a hug as Chelle and her film crew disappeared into the stalls. ‘We all knew you’d crack Hollywood one day.’

‘You did?’ Simon laughed in surprise. ‘Well, you knew more than me.’

‘It was obvious,’ Woody agreed. ‘You just needed a lucky break.’

‘All good things come to those who wait,’ added Cressida.

‘Yeah, well, I could have done with a lot less waiting.’

‘And miss out on meeting us lot?’ Roxy asked. ‘Rock off! I reckon fame found you at just the right time.’

‘Yeah, Si,’ Austin heckled. ‘I mean, who’d want all those loose-knickered starlets cluttering up your twenties?’

‘Mr Jones?’ A PR lady hovered at his elbow.

‘Uh-oh.’ Austin rolled his eyes.

‘Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a woman outside, demanding to be let in. She says she’s a journalist; a friend of yours—’

‘Unlikely.’

‘I don’t think she’s going to take no for an answer. She’s being quite insistent with the security team. Actually, she’s being quite threatening.’

‘Nicola,’ Cressida sighed.

‘Nicola? Are you sure?’ Sue asked in surprise. ‘Surely she wouldn’t dare.’

‘Wanna bet?’ Terence replied. ‘The woman’s shame-free.’

‘Quite sure. I saw her when I was walking down the red carpet. She was kicking up a fuss because she didn’t have the right pass. She was trying to pretend we were friends.’

‘Shit!’ For the first time in a year, Simon’s smile faded. ‘But doesn’t she
have
to come in? I mean, she
is
from the
Sunday Post
, after all.’

‘Sunday Post?’
The PR paled like a ghost. ‘Oh my God! We didn’t realise … I mean, she’s always just a silhouette. I’m so sorry, Mr Jones; I’ll go and let her in immediately.’

‘Leave her
exactly
where she is!’

‘But …?’ The PR looked perplexed.

‘But …?’ Simon looked scared.

‘But what?’ shrugged Austin with a grin. ‘Fuck her; she can
stay outside with the tramps. You, Simon Drennan, are a movie star! You don’t have to talk to shits like Nicola Blunt.’

Simon looked embarrassed. ‘But I don’t want to be rude—’

‘I’ll do it – I
love
being rude!’

‘Gentlemen,
please!’
Roxy interrupted sternly. ‘Before you get your kecks in a twist, here’s a little something I prepared earlier.’ And she dipped into her sparkly handbag and brought out an empty, scrunched-up beer can.

Everyone stared for a moment. And then Austin snorted a laugh.

‘Is that Special Brew?’ The PR wrinkled her nose. ‘Did you actually drink that?’

‘Only the best for our Nicola,’ Roxy grinned, handing the can to Woody. And then she dipped into her handbag again and pulled out a ribbon strung through a card. She tied it around the can with a bow. And then she returned to her handbag once more, plucked out a red lipstick and flawlessly applied it to her lips.

‘Amazeballs,’ Cressida marvelled.

‘You did that without using a mirror!’ exclaimed Sue.

Roxy planted a huge, scarlet kiss on the card.

‘Please give this to Miss Blunt as our answer.’ And she passed the beer can to the PR. Everyone leant forward to read the inscription: ‘To Nicola. Love from the bunch of no-lifes’, and then Roxy’s scarlet kiss mark.

‘God, I love you, Rox.’ Woody kissed her fiercely. ‘As eloquent as an
Oxford English
– as straight to the point as
Viz
!’

Roxy beamed back at him with undisguised pride.

Austin turned to the dumbstruck PR.

‘Go on; you heard her. Give it to Nicola.’

The PR looked nervous.

‘But Mr Jones, are you sure? I mean, this
is
Nicola Blunt we’re talking about.’

Austin turned to the group, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Something silent communicated between them. ‘Absofucking-lutely,’ he declared. ‘Right, no-lifes?’

‘Right!’ everyone replied together.

And, giggling, they all turned – arm in arm – and disappeared into the auditorium for Simon’s big moment; a disparate bunch of
used-to-be
s … an inseparable group of friends.

Simon Drennan and his family moved to LA, where he is currently filming a rom-com penned by the legendary Richard Curtis.

He remains a frequent professional collaborator and close personal friend of the movie-star-turned-executive-producer, Austin Jones.

Sue Bunce and Terence Leggett came second and fifth in the latest series of
I’m A Celebrity … Get Me Out Of Here!
and, upon leaving the jungle, were offered their own daytime TV chat show.

Sue’s autobiography,
Suga-Coated
, reached number one in the
Sunday Times
best-seller chart.

Terence’s new series, written by and co-starring Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant, premieres on BBC1 next week.

Sue and Terrence got married last May.