The Show (36 page)

It was one meeting. Their first meeting. She couldn’t expect to hit a home run the first time she stepped up to the plate. She might hope to, maybe, but not expect.

She Skyped James, hoping that talking with him might cheer her up or at least put things into perspective. But his team had just been badly beaten, and Macy spent most of the call trying to lift
his
spirits, with mixed success.

‘I’m so tired of travelling,’ he told her, miserably. ‘I know it’s an awful thing to say when I’m doing my dream job. But all I want is to go home and stay there. I miss everything. Marmite,
News at Ten
, rain, the gossip in the Preedys’ shop.’

‘And me, I hope,’ said Macy.

‘Of course you. I’m so horny I could sleep with the chambermaid.’

‘Please don’t!’ said Macy.

‘I’ll do my best, but no promises,’ James teased. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Macy closed her laptop, feeling no better. She ought to go over her pitch for tomorrow’s meetings, tweaking the little things where she felt she’d lost O’Donnell’s attention at Fox today, or failed to impress as much as she might have. But she didn’t have the energy. Still, she had to do something or she’d go mad. Wandering into the kitchen, she began pulling glasses out of the cupboard and checking them for smears, cleaning and polishing any less-than-perfect specimens until they shone like diamonds.

She was so engrossed in the task that at first she didn’t notice the phone ringing. When she finally heard it, she walked into the hall and picked up with a heavy sigh. Whoever it was, she didn’t want to talk to them. Not today.

‘Macy, it’s me.’

Paul Meyer’s voice positively vibrated with excitement.

‘I just got a call from Tim O’Donnell.’

‘You did
not.
’

‘He loved it. Loved
you
in particular. They’re gonna make an offer.’

Macy let out a little squeal of delight. She didn’t think she’d been more surprised since the day she heard that George Clooney had decided to get married.

‘Did he talk terms at all?’

Paul made a noncommittal, agent-y sort of noise. ‘Kind of. There are a few kinks to work out, like there always are.’

‘Kinks?’

‘He wants Gabe Baxter as part of the US presenting team.’

Macy exhaled heavily. She knew that would never happen. Ambitious or not, trying to take Gabe out of Wraggsbottom Farm would be like trying to uproot an oak tree. Impossible. Even if, by some miracle, you succeeded, the tree would never survive.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ Paul Meyer said smoothly. ‘These are all details. We’ll get around it. The point is, Fox want the format. You landed the big fish, baby.’

The moment Macy put the phone down, there was a hammering on her front door.

Still in a daze, she opened it to find a triumphant Gabe hopping up and down with excitement. One look told her he’d already heard the news.

‘How did you know?’ she asked him.

‘White Teeth rang my hotel,’ he beamed. ‘I think she likes me!’

‘I’m still in shock,’ said Macy. ‘This never happens. Like, never.’

‘Let’s celebrate!’ said Gabe. Macy walked towards her drinks cabinet, but Gabe put a hand on her arm. ‘Uh-uh. I mean, really celebrate. Let’s go out. Where can I get the best margarita in LA and see shit-loads of celebrities?’

Macy grinned. ‘That would be the Chateau.’

To her surprise, Laura had had a good day today.

The first twenty-four hours after she found that terrible picture on Gabe’s phone had been horrific. The pain she felt, looking at that vile girl, was so visceral, so intense, it had frightened her. Was it normal that Gabe still had the power to shred her heart into a million pieces, and shatter her happiness like a carelessly dropped Christmas-tree ornament? In her late thirties, with a glittering career and two children, wasn’t she supposed to be more mature than that, more emotionally independent, more protected?

Apparently not. When Gabe had reacted not with remorse but with petulance, and had even had the nerve to get on a plane to Los Angeles and try to pitch
Valley Farm
–
her show
– without her, Laura had wrapped her anger around her like a shield and held on to it for dear life.

That was it. That was
it.
No more. She would wind up the show, cut Gabe off from the celebrity he’d started to crave like some pathetic, attention-hungry junkie, and reclaim her life. Their lives. Eddie Wellesley was retreating into his family cocoon after a crisis. Why shouldn’t she?

I started this train and I can stop it
, Laura told herself, with more than a trace of desperation.
I have control here.

In those first awful days she’d wanted to punish Gabe, to hurt him, just like he’d hurt her. She refused to answer his calls from LA. But as the week rolled on, in the silence and emptiness of their bedroom, she began to mellow. Gabe’s voicemails were becoming more and more contrite. And the distance from him was doing her good. Gabe had been an idiot, but she didn’t believe he’d actually cheated on her. If, by some miracle, he and Macy did get a bite in LA from one of the networks, she would probably consider it. But only on
her
terms. She began to feel more cheerful. She was still furious with Gabe. But she also knew how much she loved him and how much, despite everything, he loved her. Perhaps, in the end, their relationship would come through this stronger?

Sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, a gin and tonic in one hand and a large bar of Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut in the other, Laura weighed up her options. Go to bed – it was already nearly midnight and Luca and Hugh were bound to be awake at the crack of dawn tomorrow – or watch another episode of
Borgen
.

Borgen
won easily. There weren’t many situations in life, in Laura’s opinion, that couldn’t be improved with a combination of gin, chocolate, and Kasper Juul pouting sexily from the screen. Katrine was handling him all wrong. Laura would have done a much better job at keeping him in check.

When her phone rang, and Gabe’s US number popped up on the screen, she decided the time had come to answer it. He wasn’t forgiven, but some small sign of a thaw in relations was probably called for.

‘Hello?’

‘Laura?’

Gabe’s voice sounded distant and almost drowned out by a cacophony of background noise: laughter, music, shouting. A party? But surely it was only tea-time in LA?

‘Laura? Are you there?’

‘Yes, I’m here.’ She kept her tone neutral. ‘Where are you? I can hardly hear you.’

‘I’m at the Chateau Marmont. We’re shelebrating!’ Gabe slurred.

‘Who’s we?’

‘Me and Macy and … some people.’ In the background, Laura could clearly hear female laughter, followed by what sounded like a splash.

She stiffened. ‘Are you drunk?’

Gabe either ignored the question or couldn’t hear it through the din. ‘Fox want the show,’ he told her excitedly. ‘We’ve sold it! At least, I think we have. Isn’t that great?’

Before Laura could answer, Macy grabbed the phone. She was clearly also drunk. This was quite some party Laura was missing.

‘Hi, boss! Did he tell you? Tim O’Donnell at Fox
loved
us.’

Laura felt her anger start to return. So much for Gabe’s remorse. He was obviously having the time of his life out there.

‘I was totally stressing it before we went in, but O’Donnell didn’t ask one question about Eddie or the scandal or why you weren’t there. Thank God Gabe came out, he was
amazing
,’ Macy gushed. ‘You’d have been so proud of him.’

Would I, indeed?
Laura thought furiously.

Gabe came back on the line. ‘I mish you.’

‘Really?’ Laura said archly. ‘Well, I suggest you go home and sober up then. And you can tell Macy and the rest of your cheerleading squad that
Valley Farm
isn’t sold until I say it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s late. I’m going to bed.’

She hung up.

Tears of anger and frustration welled in her eyes.

How dare he call her, drunk and triumphant and surrounded by women, after what he’d just done? What a fool she’d been, forgiving him so easily, convincing herself that things might actually be better. She should never have taken his call.

Turning off Kasper Juul, she downed the last of her drink and went miserably to bed.

Gabe stood by the pool, phone in hand, looking shell shocked.

‘What happened?’ asked Macy, oblivious. ‘D’you get cut off?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Gabe. ‘Maybe.’

But he knew that wasn’t what had happened. Laura had hung up on him. She wasn’t pleased that he and Macy had done so well today. She didn’t forgive him. She was still angry. She would always be angry.

He headed back up to the bar and began to drink in earnest.

At some point in the evening, the party moved to Shutters. Some of the starlets who Macy and Gabe were hanging out with learned that Gabe had a suite there, and the rumour went around that a Fox expense account was paying for everything.

Gabe had no idea how he got back to Santa Monica. He thought he remembered Macy opening a car door for him. There were lights, and a warm seat and he slept for a while. He might have eaten a hot dog. In any event, at some point he found himself sitting at a bar on the sand, being told by the bartender that it was time to close up. Looking up, he was surprised to see stars and a bright half-moon in the sky. It was late, and cold. The hangers-on from the Chateau had all gone. Macy was still there, passed out on a sun lounger, an untouched cocktail on the table beside her.

‘Your check, sir.’

Gabe unfolded the white slip of paper. His eyes were swimming, but he was pretty sure he saw a four-figure number in the ‘total’ column. He was also pretty sure the number started with a seven.

‘Fuuuuck.’ He groaned out loud.

‘What?’ Macy woke up suddenly.

‘We just drank seven thousand dollars worth.’ Gabe closed his eyes. ‘I feel sick.’

Getting unsteadily to her feet, Macy came over and put an arm around his shoulders.

‘Who cares? You sold the show, remember? You’re rich.’

‘I’m not rich,’ said Gabe.

‘Well. You will be.’ Macy smiled. She had a very pretty smile, Gabe thought.

‘Laura’s going to go spare.’ He looked at Macy forlornly. ‘We didn’t get cut off before. She hung up on me. She’s so fucking angry.’

‘She’s always angry,’ said Macy. Her hand had moved from Gabe’s shoulder to his neck. He closed his eyes as her cool, slender fingers stroked his bare skin. It felt wonderful. ‘You deserve so much more, you know.’

Gabe turned to face her. Both Macy’s arms were around his neck now. Instinctively, he slipped his own arms around her waist. Staring down at her face, still smiling that lovely smile, he felt poleaxed with desire. It wasn’t just that she was very beautiful, or that he was very drunk, although both of those things were true. It was the look in her eyes: adoring, desirous, her pupils dilating wildly in the darkness like something out of a Japanese Manga cartoon. It was the way her back arched slightly when he held her. The way her breath quickened.
She wants me.
Reflected in Macy’s eyes, Gabe was everything he wanted to be.

He bent down to kiss her and she exploded into his arms like a lit firework.

‘Take me to bed,’ she whispered in his ear. Her hands were inside his shirt now, clawing at his back, pulling at him with wild desperation. ‘Please.’

Gabe nodded, so turned on he could barely breathe.

It was already done.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Macy opened her eyes dreamily. A sense of deep peace and wellbeing flowed through her. For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. But then she saw Gabe lying next to her, sprawled out on the pillow, and the sunlight chinking through the white wooden shutters of the hotel bedroom, and it all came back to her in a rush.

Last night had been incredible. Not just sexually, although that was pretty spectacular. But the way Gabe had looked at her, the tenderness between them … it was more than she’d dared to hope for, even in her wildest fantasies.

He loves me
, she told herself, savouring this new reality like honey on her tongue as she gently traced a finger down his back. Deep down she’d always known that she loved him. But last night was the first time he’d shown her that the feeling was mutual. As Gabe started to stir, she allowed her mind to wander, picturing a future for the two of them. It would be in England, of course. Even in fantasy, Macy couldn’t paint Gabe into an LA life. But that was OK. With James she’d hankered after home and her own career because, lovely as he was, James wasn’t ‘the one’. But, with the right man – with Gabe – Macy realized she could live anywhere. Just imagining herself in the kitchen at Wraggsbottom Farm, married to Gabe, making breakfast for the two of them, flooded her with a contentment she didn’t think she’d ever felt before. Somewhere in the background of the fantasy, Laura and the children and James swirled uncomfortably, but a wave of happiness swept them aside like scraps of driftwood on a dazzling blue sea.

Gabe groaned. Still half asleep, he reached out and idly stroked Macy’s belly. Then suddenly he sat up, as if an alarm clock only he could hear had just gone off in his head.

‘Shit!’ Running his hands through his hair he looked around him wildly.

Macy touched his shoulder gently, her face alight with love. ‘It’s OK,’ she smiled. ‘Paul Meyer cancelled the other meetings, remember? You can go back to sleep.’

Gabe turned and looked at her, and in an instant all Macy’s fantasies shattered, the shards piercing her heart like a million tiny daggers of glass.

‘Oh God.’ He wasn’t crying, but his whole face was twisted into a mask of utter, unmistakable anguish. ‘Shit. Shit, shit,
shit
.’ Jumping out of the bed as if it were on fire, he began frantically pulling on his clothes like a man deranged.

‘It’s OK,’ Macy said again, automatically.

Gabe stared at her bleakly. ‘It’s not OK. We should never …
I
should never … FUCK!’ He shouted the word so loudly, the walls shook. Macy burst into tears.