Wishful Thinking (5 page)

And he’d come so close, so very close to kissing her. How he’d resisted was a mystery to him. Just recalling it now caused that same surge of exhilaration to power through him. She was in his arms, her eyes shining, her cheeks and pert little nose pink with excitement, her full lips lush, red and so temptingly soft. He felt the blood rush through him again and he groaned inwardly. If he’d known there was a chance he might not see her again, that he would have to creep away, like a thief in the night, he would have taken that kiss, no matter what the consequences. As it was, that missed opportunity might haunt him for a very long time.

Damn Amber! She was so high maintenance. Always had been, always would be. It wasn’t the first time she’d pulled this stunt and he doubted it would be the last. But he had to be there for her. That was the one thing he’d promised. He owed her that. She was obviously in a bad way; she needed him and he couldn’t turn his back on her for anyone.

“Okay, Chris. The coast is clear, but you’ll need to run. I’m not sure whether they saw the car or not.” George told him. “I’ll drive round the corner and wait for your call.”

Christian touched him on the shoulder before exiting the car. “Thanks, George.”

A few moments later he was inside his house. A couple of the skeleton staff he kept on fussed around in the kitchen while Adam, Amber’s boyfriend and one of the band members, hovered in the hallway just below the stairs. He hurried towards Christian and greeted him with a semi-hug and pat on the shoulders.

Adam shrugged his shoulders and brought up his arms, palms outwards in a gesture that showed his uncertainty. “Usual, I think, but she also cut herself. Only superficially but…”

“Oh God!” Christian groaned. “We need to get her into The Priory.”

Adam nodded, biting his lip in concern. “Let’s see what he has to say. We might manage with a couple of nurses. She’ll hate the negative publicity – she’ll blame us for that.”

“Tough!” Christian retorted. “If she doesn’t want the publicity she should stop trying to top herself in public places!” He stopped and looked down at his feet before releasing a weary sigh. “She needs more than a couple of nurses when she gets like this, Adam. You know that. We can’t take risks with her life. I’ll go up and talk to the doctor.”

The doctor appeared before Christian reached the top of the staircase. He recognised him immediately and drew him to one side. “She’s conscious and lucid and not in any real danger physically, but obviously I’d like to get her into the clinic to keep an eye on her. I’ve called the clinic and they have an ambulance ready, but if you could carry her to the car it might be better for everyone.”

Christian nodded. “Let me talk to her and then I’ll call George.”

He opened the door slowly and entered the room. The sour smell of fresh vomit assailed his nostrils and caused his gut to heave. Amber lay back against a heap of peach-coloured silk pillows which made her skin look sallow and unhealthy. The first thing Christian did was open one of the sash windows to let in some fresh air and prevent himself from throwing up. He had never been good in the face of other people’s sickness. When he turned around he saw Amber was watching him, her big green eyes devouring him hungrily.

“You came,” she said simply.

“Of course I did. Don’t I always? Why did you do it, Amber?”

She moved her head from side to side on her soft pillow, her flaming auburn hair spilling out like gentle waves lapping silken sands. “You know why, Chris. I just couldn’t stand being on my own at Christmas.”

“But you wouldn’t have been on your own if you’d stayed in Weybridge with Adam and the rest of the boys. You had the run of the house there.”

“Working! I’ve been working, the same as you. I don’t understand what you want from me, Amber. I thought we’d agreed all this.”

Amber released a little snort, which turned into a sob and huge tears spilled from her eyes. “You haven’t got a clue, Chris. You don’t know what it’s like for me.”

Biting his lip, he watched her for a moment before crossing the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her limp hands into his.
Of course I do! It’s impossible for any of us not to know what it’s like for you as you never stop telling us!
And the instant the thought was out, he felt guilty.

“I know it’s difficult, Amber. I know you find it hard. But we agreed it was better this way and I thought you were doing so well. Why do you keep…changing your mind?”

“Because I don’t know,” she wailed. “Because I just don’t know what I
want
. Or rather, I do, but I know I can’t have
that
. And that’s what’s killing me…” her words tailed off into a high-pitched moan which seemed to be directed at the ceiling. She seemed to be trapped in her own misery, beyond consolation and Christian looked around him helplessly.

“We need to get you out of here. I’m going to carry you downstairs and into my car and take you to the clinic. Do you understand? They know you there; they’ll be able to help.”

“Noooo…” Amber wailed. “Please don’t send me away, Chris. I can’t bear that place.”

“I’m not sending you away. I’m going with you. So is Adam. We’ll take care of you together. Now let’s put some clothes on you to keep you warm. It’s very cold outside.”

He rose, opened the door to let in Adam and the doctor, indicating for them to prepare Amber for the journey as he called George to alert him to have the car standing by. The next fifteen minutes were lost in a blur of activity but eventually she was calm and sufficiently prepared for her journey. The doctor and Adam left by the front door in a decoy attempt while Christian and George bundled Amber into the Mercedes waiting at the rear. Within minutes both cars were speeding westward.

5

“Mummy, I’ve just seen Chris on the TV,” Ben said walking into the kitchen where Jess was helping Ellen, her step-mother, to prepare lunch.

“Oh-my-God!
No
way!
No
way!” twelve year old Katya, Ellen’s granddaughter, said fast on his heels. “This
boy
says he knows Christian Goodchild! Haven’t you told him how wicked it is for little boys to tell lies?” She looked accusingly at Jess.

Ben stared at Katya in open-mouthed disgust and then looked at his mother. Jess’s hands itched. Katya was the most obnoxious twelve year old she had ever encountered. Despite the continual stream of relatives and friends that seemed to be forever wandering through the door, Katya seemed to have singled out Ben for the full force of her derision. She criticised everything he said and did.

Jess knew Ben hated being called a ‘little boy’ and started to point out that technically, he was Katya’s uncle and she should therefore treat him with more respect, when their little argument infiltrated her consciousness. “Chris is on TV?” she said to Ben. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

“
He
is!” Katya said in a voice dripping with contempt. “The silly boy said he stayed with him and they played in the snow together. Durr! In his very wildest
dreams
, he did.”

Jess ignored her and, taking Ben’s hand, walked back with him into the room he had just vacated. The TV was relaying the news, which seemed to be about the latest unrest in the Middle East.

“What did you see, exactly, Ben?”

Ben shrugged. “I saw Chris, and a lady. He waved and so I waved back. Then
she
called me stupid so I told her Chris was my friend and she started laughing at me. I don’t like her, mummy.”

“Well, just keep reminding her you’re her uncle and she’ll soon stop teasing you.”

“That boy is so
not
my uncle!” Katya shrieked from the doorway. “That’s impossible. I’m twice as old as him.”

Jess nodded in her direction, keeping her face deadpan. “I know. Age is a bitch, isn’t it, Katya?”

Katya’s jaw fell open. “You just
swore
at me!” She accused.

“Of
course,
the singer - who else?”

“Well they’re in
lurve
, aren’t they? Or they used to be. She used to be in Wishful. They both did, before the band split. She went solo and he went to Hollywood.”

“Christian Goodchild?” Jess repeated knowing she must sound very stupid. “And that’s who Ben saw on TV? Are you sure?”

“Well I should hope so. I
am
his number one fan in the whole world. And Amber’s too, of course.”

Katya gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m sure you would. All my friends want to see it too, but I’m choosey about who I show it to. And I’m definitely not showing it to
him!
”

The news recap arrested Jess’s attention. A clip of Chris with an attractive young woman flashed onto the screen. They both smiled and waved at the camera as the announcer explained that Amber Rayne had left a London clinic today on the arm of her former lover and fellow band member turned Hollywood actor, Christian Goodchild…”

Jess felt a tightening sensation around the outer edges of her eyes and for a moment she forgot to breathe.
Christian Goodchild!
No wonder that name had sounded familiar. She suddenly felt utterly stupid and naïve. What must he have thought of her? Why hadn’t he said anything to her? And how could she have thought for a moment that such a man might be interested in her?

She cast her mind back to their evening in the snow and remembered the young carol singers with the rather cheeky little boy.
Sing with us, mister
- even
they
had probably recognised who he was. And she’d spent the night at his parents’ hotel not knowing. She must have provided them all with a good deal of amusement. How they must have laughed at her ignorance. Not one of them had bothered to enlighten her. And she had thought…she had hoped… Foolish, silly woman! How
could
she?

When she came back to the present, the opening credits for the film Ben and Katya had been waiting for were filling the screen.

“I think I’ll just go upstairs and start putting our things together, Ben. We ought to set off home after lunch as I don’t much feel like driving in the dark.”

“I’m not sure, Katya. Maybe it was just somebody like him,” Jess replied feeling too deflated to enter into further conversation on the subject. She began to collect up Ben’s toys and put them into a bag.

A few minutes later Katya reappeared clutching a photo, an 8 x 10 glossy with a facsimile signature sprawled across it. It was Chris, or rather Christian Goodchild, as he signed himself and he smiled up at Jess with those same beautiful eyes which had penetrated her soul, albeit fleetingly, a few nights previously.

She allowed herself to gaze at the face for a moment – not longer, as that wasn’t necessary. She’d thought about little else since the morning of Christmas Eve and it was well and truly imprinted on her memory. Now, she thought, came the harder task of erasing it.