Authors: Kate Langdon

Famous (43 page)

‘Will you come back and see us soon, love?’ she asked, as she folded me into a huge hug. There were tears in her eyes. And in mine.

‘Of course I will,’ I said, hugging her back, as tightly as I could, and trying not to cry. ‘So much that you’ll get sick of me.’

‘Never,’ she said. ‘There’ll always be a room for you here.’

‘Will you and Bob come and stay with me in the city sometime?’ I asked.

‘Does the hen cackle?’ she replied.

I think this was a yes.

‘And remember, love,’ she said, letting me go, ‘when one door shuts, another one opens.’

And then suddenly there I was, on the road, driving back to my old life. I felt a whole mixture of things. I felt excited; excited to see my friends, my family, my apartment and my office again. Excited to get my old life back. But I was a little scared too; scared of what would be waiting for me, scared of what might happen with Alistair. And a little sad; sad to be leaving behind my new friends; Elsie, Ethan, Bob, Mack and Abbie. People I had come to know and love. I also felt something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something which made me feel a little uneasy, almost as though I was driving in the wrong direction.

You’re just a bit nervous, I told myself, it’s understandable. You’ll be back into the swing of things in no time at all.

Exactly four-and-a-half hours later, and without getting lost, I pulled off the motorway and was back in the city. As I was stopped at the lights I looked around in awe. Everything seemed so big and busy. And it was a little bit, well, a little bit overwhelming. In the process of being overwhelmed I was tooted at several times for missing a green light.

For godsake! I thought to myself, as I hit the accelerator. Take a chill pill!

As I pulled up outside my apartment I was immediately aware there was something missing. And there was. There was no one waiting outside my gate for me, no one yelling out ‘Give us a smile Samantha!’ and no cameras firing flashes at me. I walked to my front door, calmly and slowly. It was a wonderful thing to behold. I stepped back inside my apartment, for the first time in months. Initially I thought someone had broken in and robbed the place in my absence, until I remembered this is what it looked like when I left; white, clean, spacious and minimal. The look I had created. The look I relished.

For some reason it felt a little strange, a little empty.

Think I’ll paint it a brighter colour, I thought to myself. It’s time for a change. Plus it felt, well, it felt a little cold.

I walked into my bedroom and threw my suitcase up onto my white duvet, suddenly aware this is not something I did. Or used to do anyway. I decided to leave my unpacking until later on and drove round to Lizzie’s house for my welcome home dinner.

‘The eagle has finally landed!’ cried Mands, opening the door and embracing me in a huge hug.

‘Yay!’ screamed Lizzie, running to the door also, arms wide open.

‘So, how is it being back?’ they asked eagerly, as we sat down with a wine.

‘A bit strange to be honest,’ I replied. ‘I’m not sure about my apartment, it feels kinda odd.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Mands. ‘It’s a fabulous pad.’

‘Yes, I know. But it’s just a bit, well, a bit cold and stark I guess.’

‘But you decorated it yourself,’ said Lizzie. ‘Everything.’

‘I know, and that’s the problem,’ I replied. ‘I think I might be…well…a bit anal.’

Mands and Lizzie stared at each other, odd expressions on their faces.

‘Of course you are, dolls,’ they both said. ‘You always have been!’

‘In fact, you used to pride yourself on it,’ added Mands.

‘Plus sweets, being anal’s good,’ said Lizzie. ‘It’s just another word for being in control.’

‘I’m anal and I’m proud,’ said Mands. ‘Go on, say it.’

‘Okay,’ I replied, although I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the supposed attribute. ‘I’m anal and I’m…um proud.’

‘Wasn’t very convincing,’ said Mands.

‘Where’s Louie?’ I asked, changing the subject.

Mands promptly shook her head and gave me the don’t ask look.

‘He’s gone,’ said Lizzie, hanging her head.

‘Where?’ I cried. ‘Don’t tell me he got run over?’

By this stage Mands was violently shaking her head behind Lizzie’s back.

‘No,’ sighed Lizzie. ‘I gave him away.’

‘To who?’

God. Who on earth wanted to take a dog on Prozac?

‘Pete.’ Pete was Lizzie’s cousin.

‘Really? And how’s he doing?’

Mands looked as though she was about to shake her head right off its hinges.

‘Great…the bastard.’

‘Oh.’

‘Happy as fucking Larry,’ continued Lizzie. ‘And he’s off the bloody drugs too.’

‘Really?’

This was surprising. I thought Louie would be buried with a packet of Prozac.

Clearly Lizzie was upset at being deserted by a male, once again. Even if that male was a canine.

‘But she’s getting another dog,’ prompted Mands. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘Yes. A female. A loyal, content, non-sport-watching female.’

‘Lovely,’ I replied. ‘I bet she’ll even like shopping too.’

‘True,’ agreed Mands. ‘And she’ll just love going out for bubbles with us as well.’

‘What’s for dins?’ I asked, as Mands poured me another wine.

‘Thai,’ said Lizzie, shoving a menu into my hand.

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Takeaways?’

‘But of course,’ said Lizzie. ‘The kitchen’s just for show, you know that.’

‘How about I fix us something easy instead?’ I said.

They both looked at me as if I had finally gone insane.

‘But why would you cook when you don’t have to?’ asked Mands, confusion crowding her face.

‘Because,’ I replied. ‘I kind of like it.’

Another uneasy look passed between them.

‘Go on,’ I instructed. ‘You two sit down and relax and I’ll whip us up something.’

‘Good luck to you,’ said Lizzie, backing out of the kitchen.

‘I’ve absolutely no idea what’s lurking in there.’

‘I’ll find something,’ I assured her. Although Lizzie couldn’t cook to save herself, she also didn’t want to be seen without the right ingredients in her kitchen.

‘Have you got an apron?’ I asked.

‘The cleaner might have left hers,’ said Lizzie. ‘I’ll go have a look.’

She returned from the laundry with her cleaner’s red striped apron and I set about rummaging through the pantry, fridge and freezer. Mands and Lizzie sat on the barstools at the bench opposite, staring at me as though I were some sort of body snatcher who had infiltrated their best friend’s being.

‘Are you sure you haven’t bumped your head today, dolls?’ asked Mands.

‘Sit, sit,’ I motioned, twenty minutes later, pointing to the dining table and setting two bowls of Thai noodles down in front of them.

‘Wow! This is delicious!’ exclaimed Mands, taking a mouthful.

‘Amazing!’ added Lizzie.

‘Quite the little housewife, aren’t you?’ said Mands. I decided to take this as a compliment.

Dishes done I decided to head home reasonably early for once. It was my first day back in the office tomorrow and I wanted to be on form.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Mands.

‘Going,’ I replied.

‘Where?’

‘Home.’

‘Why?’ asked Lizzie, screwing up her face. ‘It’s not even ten o’clock.’

‘I know, but I just want to get a good night’s sleep before I start back at work. Don’t worry, I’ll see you both on Friday.’

‘I hope all that country air hasn’t made you soft, dolls,’ said Mands.

‘Quite the opposite,’ I said, kissing them both goodbye.

That night I climbed into my lovely, comfortable, very expensive, un-lumpy and dip-free queen-sized bed. But, as tired as I was, I couldn’t get to sleep.

The goddamn noise! I thought to myself, as the third car alarm went off in the street outside. I got up to check the bedroom windows were closed. They were. And as I did I heard someone yell out ‘You’re a cunt Michael! A fucking cunt!’ from the street below. You would have had to be certifiably deaf not to hear it.

‘I SAID A FUCKING CUUNNTT!’

Followed by the smashing of a glass bottle, presumably thrown. And then another.

Fabulous. I guess it’ll take a while to get used to it again, I told myself.

I would’ve given anything for five minutes of silence. Three hours later I finally drifted off, ear plugs in and a pillow over my head.

The next morning I woke to yet another car alarm. I tried to go back to sleep but then the rubbish collectors came along.

Might as well get up then, I thought. I showered, dressed, and drove into the office. It felt odd putting on a suit again. Odd and slightly uncomfortable. It was somewhat of a shock to my poor body which had been living in nothing but jeans and trainers for months. It was even stranger driving to the office without being chased by a convoy of four-wheel drives and motorbikes.

My arrival back at the office was well received to say the least. I was literally set upon. In my absence word had spread that a few of our major clients had been seen searching around for other agencies, much to Gareth’s horror. It appeared that Erica hadn’t done such a great job of keeping everything under control. Gareth was distraught and looked approximately ten years older than when I had left.

‘It’s okay,’ I placated him. ‘I’ll get them back.’

My work was cut out for me, ringing around, assuring them of our commitment to their business, and setting up as many meetings as quickly as I could. I was kissing arses left, right and centre. Instead of publicly disintegrating a very sheepish Erica, as I would have relished and thoroughly enjoyed doing in the past, I included her in all aspects of the rescue mission. She had made mistakes and I wanted her to learn how to fix them, so they wouldn’t happen again. Plus, I desperately needed the assistance and, as she feared for her job, she was more than happy to help.

By the end of the week I had met with all of the disgruntled clients, wooed them back, and averted any major catastrophes for the company, much to Gareth’s relief. I was also absolutely exhausted. Dead on my feet. How on earth did you used to manage this? I wondered to myself. What I wouldn’t have given for ten minutes with a pot of tea and a date scone.

There was something else that was bugging me too. While in the past I would have experienced a massive adrenaline rush and sense of satisfaction at working so close to the line and pulling it off, this time I didn’t. I just felt tired. It’ll come back, I told myself. Just give it time. I certainly hoped so.

I had been avoiding Alistair since my return. He had left messages everywhere. On my home phone, work phone, and mobile. Lots of them. He knew I was back in town and quite obviously wanted to speak to me. It’s not that I didn’t want to speak to him. It’s just that I wasn’t ready for what might happen when I did. I had stopped being angry with him. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, I just had. I no longer wished him a long and drawn-out death from a painful and lingering STD. In fact, I no longer wished him any harm whatsoever. I just didn’t feel ready to see him again. Not yet. I needed to concentrate on getting back into the swing of my life, at least for another couple of weeks, and think about what it was I wanted. What was right for me? And was that him?