Saturday 9th November
Steve groaned, as sunlight peeked through the gap in the curtains and right into his eyes. Squinting, he checked his cheap watch; it was somewhere around ten in the morning. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and tasted like manure, his head thudded painfully with every pulse and hurt more when he opened his eyes. Next time, if there ever was a next time – Steve didn’t see himself doing this again in a hurry – he would drink a pint of water before going to bed.
Downstairs, Ruby clattered and banged. Still evidently pissed off.
He showered, hoping it would clear his head, and shaved, so he’d feel more presentable. Ruby’s insistence that he kept the shadow to a minimum meant he was shaving at least twice a day. At the hotel he took in an electric razor and on breaks would go to the locker rooms to shave. Luckily, the line of work he was now in meant he needed to look presentable, so other staff didn’t see it as abnormal. In fact, only the other day, he’d caught Pete in there also shaving, and cursing about it.
All this effort to find the woman of his dreams.
Obviously, he hadn’t said that to Pete.
Last night would have been nice, a one-night stand as an anonymous human being. But Steve couldn’t have those anymore. Not that it was his thing, but he’d had a couple of one-nighters when he’d been a lot younger, in the days when he could be a free spirit. In fact, even back then, a one-night stand wasn’t what he’d planned. He’d usually hoped to get to know the woman the next day, go on another date, but for one reason or another it never transpired.
Damn, why’d he forgotten about Ruby and what her reaction would be? He should never have come back here with…and he still couldn’t remember her name.
It had felt good though. Was he finally getting over Erica?
Feeling only a tiny bit better – well at least he felt clean and didn’t smell – he threw a fresh T-shirt over his head, pulled on some baggy jeans and ambled down the stairs, taking things very slowly. His feet and calves ached from the dancing, and his pounding head didn’t aid his balance.
“Morning,” he said quietly and then winced as Ruby slammed another kitchen cupboard. “Any coffee going?”
He’d bought a machine at last, and was pleased to see the jug full. He grabbed a mug from the cupboard, making a lot less noise than his sister, and poured himself a coffee. The smell alone woke him up, brain coming alive. Ruby continued to put washed up items away, without making conversation with Steve. If Ruby’s anger was visible as a mist, the kitchen would be foggy. And its colour would be red.
“Why are you still in a mood?” Steve sipped his coffee, the liquid welcome in his mouth, the heat settling his stomach.
Ruby turned and glared. “Because I can’t believe you’d be so stupid.”
“Oh, Ruby, I’m not going over this again. I’m sorry, okay. You have no idea how sorry I am.” However much the coffee tasted good, he disliked the atmosphere. He dumped the coffee down the sink, leaving the mug on the side. He could afford to get coffee elsewhere.
“Where are you going?”
“Out!” He’d get breakfast in the high street. “Until you change the record.”
The walk would do him good, too, as he certainly couldn’t run after a night like that.
Making sure he had his wallet, he slammed the front door behind him.
“Everything all right, dear?” Ruby’s neighbour was putting some paper in her recycling bin. “I might be deaf, but I can feel a door slam.”
Steve smiled, forced somewhat, but there was no need to be rude to Daphne. “Ruby and I, well, I did something—”
“It is hard when you haven’t lived with someone in such a long time. You’re used to your own space.”
Steve nodded and waved a goodbye. Maybe that’s what he needed; his own space. He strolled down to the high street, knowing the café would be open, and he could have a fry up – the perfect hangover cure. He’d run an extra mile another day to compensate for the saturated fat. Every cold breath slowly cleared his head. By the time he reached the café he was ravenous.
He ordered the big breakfast and a coffee, then grabbed a free newspaper from a rack and found an empty table in the corner.
Tucked away in the back, Steve sat for over two hours, filling up on coffee. Even though the waitress wore a wedding band, she still flirted and gave Steve the most attention compared to the other customers.
Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been born with his looks. They caused him trouble. Usually a girl would not stop staring, then her boyfriend would get jealous, and blame Steve. Those were his younger days. There had been days too, when he encouraged the girls. Then, finally, his looks had helped him get parts in films. Okay, so he’d like to think he was good at acting too. He was. Directors and producers, and even the critiques had commended him for his natural comic ability; he made his characters whole and believable. He had a certain charisma on the screen. The camera liked him.
But he didn’t kid himself, his looks had eventually got him through the door of Hollywood.
***
Half an hour after Steve had slammed the front door shut, the doorbell chimed.
Ruby was not in the mood for a sales call. She really needed to put one of those signs up. The ones that said politely, ‘I’m poor, I don’t wish to buy anything, now sod off.’
“Yes!” she answered the door angrily. Oh, God, now she wished it was a sales person. They would have been so much better than the slime standing on her doorstep. She scowled. Bastard alert! “What do you want?”
“Hello, Ruby. Nice to see you, too.”
“Cut the chit chat. Why are you here?” Stupid question. She knew exactly why Terence Smythe, her ex-boyfriend, was here. Had he spotted Steve in the area? Terence was the one person who definitely couldn’t find out that she had her brother visiting. He worked for the local press, Bristol Gazette, and had used Ruby a couple of years ago, as Steve started getting famous. Terence made Ruby believe he was in love with her, when all he wanted was inside material on Steve.
“Can I come in?”
“No, I’m about to go out.” She grabbed her car keys, handbag and slipped on her boots. She had no make-up on, wasn’t even sure she’d brushed her hair, not that it needed brushing much being this short. A plus side when trying to get out of the way of journalists – obviously. At least she’d got dressed before he’d showed up, otherwise she’d be going out in her pyjamas. She had to get Terence away from the house before Steve returned.
She locked her front door, and stormed towards her car, the little shit following her.
“Have you seen these pictures? Your brother seems to have found a new girlfriend. Care to comment?” A moment of panic swept through Ruby. Had someone recognised him in the club? Or had the girl last night been a set up? All sorts of thoughts and fears entered her mind as Terence flicked through some glossy magazine until he came to the page, and then presented it to Ruby. Steve – or someone who looked like him thanks to the blurry quality of the covert picture – on a beach with a beautiful, bikini-clad, young lady, and looking extremely loved up, splashing around in the water. Ruby kept her expression stern, but inside she smiled. At least he didn’t think Steve was actually in Bristol.
“No comment. Steve hasn’t been in contact lately.”
“No invitations to meet his new girl?”
“Terry, Steve is half way across the world. I’m not interested. What he does is his business. Now bugger off.” She got in her car, slamming the door, wanting to trap the man’s evil hands in it, so he’d never type again. She turned the keys in the ignition and revved the engine.
She crunched the car into reverse, so angry at seeing the two-faced bastard again, all the hurt and misery rising inside her. Evidently, her feelings for this man were not as buried and forgotten as hoped. Her whole body trembled with shock and fear, hating the confrontation. She gripped the steering wheel hard, fearing she wouldn’t be able to turn it. Terry had made her learn that she also needed to keep Steve’s identity a secret in her life. The only way she’d find a decent guy, to love her for her, was if they didn’t know about Steve. Otherwise how could she trust them? How did she know they weren’t after Steve’s money? Or his story…She blinked back tears. For God’s sake, don’t start crying now.
She’d trusted Terry, and look where it had got her? She thought she’d found someone to share her secret, share her brother’s fame, and be proud that he’d made it. Instead, Terence had used every word she ever told him against her and Steve. Not that Steve knew of course. He’d probably break the man’s neck. Her mother had urged her not to react, too. The whole affair was swept under the carpet before Mum had died. All would come out in the wash otherwise, and it wouldn’t be good for Steve. Give the press an inch, they’ll take a yard, her mother had said. Yeah, Ruby imagined the headlines, “Mason’s Sister Murders Journalist Ex-Boyfriend.” Okay, so that was a crap headline – she didn’t want to be a bloody journalist – but the storyline certainly wouldn’t have gone in Steve’s favour. The press liked to dig up dirt, even a speck of dust in the family’s closet they would try making it into a skeleton. The smallest of things blown out of proportion.
Now she drove along the road, unsure where she was heading. Steve had left in a huff, but she couldn’t stay at the house, she needed to draw Terence away. She’d get lost at Cribbs for a bit. Retail therapy would do her the world of good. Not that she had the money.
***
With his head clearer, which had improved his mood, Steve strolled back home, hoping Ruby would be in a better frame of mind, too. He felt icy spots of rain as he walked, the sky growing greyer. He picked up his pace, eager to make it back before the sky truly emptied like it was threatening.
“Oh, damn.” He checked his jacket pockets, slapping at them, then his jeans pockets. Every single pocket. He’d forgotten a goddamn door key. Dialling Ruby’s home number on his mobile did not ease his nerves. She wasn’t answering. And lo and behold, he saw her car was missing from the drive. He phoned her mobile. That too went direct to voicemail.
“Hey, Ruby, in my rush, I forgot a door key. Can you let me know when you’ll be back? Thanks.”
In typical November style, the rain started coming down heavier. Cold. He kicked the front door, turning up the collar on his jacket, the eaves over the front door, just keeping him dry. Then, just to top Steve’s day, the heavens really opened. He hadn’t seen rain like it in a very long time. He ran across to Daphne’s door and rang her doorbell. Steve thought why the hell not. The old woman probably didn’t get many visitors, she might be grateful for the company. And he’d be grateful for the shelter. She took a few minutes to answer and he worried he was disturbing her afternoon nap.
“Oh, hello, it’s you.” Then Daphne frowned, looking at the rain, and then Steve, getting wetter by the minute, and said, “Everything all right, young man?”
“Hi, Daphne, I forgot to take my key, I was wondering—”
“Of course, come in, come in! I was about to put the kettle on.” Daphne opened the door wider and quickly ushered him in.
“I’ll make the tea, you sit down,” Steve said, wiping his feet on the mat.
“No, no, it’s my house and you’re my guest,” Daphne replied sternly. “Go sit down and warm yourself up. I insist.”
Removing his jacket and hanging it over the banister to dry, he followed Daphne into her lounge and settled into an armchair in front of her gas fire. He knew when to do as he was told. Many older people didn’t like to lose their independence. She may have been slower than Steve, but she was still able.
Daphne brought out a tray with two cups and saucers, a teapot covered in an old-fashioned, burgundy coloured, woolly tea-cosy and a plate of biscuits.
“Milk?”
“Yes, please,” Steve said.
“Sugar?”
“No,” he said exaggerating the word playfully, “sweet enough as I am.” He winked.
Daphne chuckled, croakily with old age. “Good, because I’d forgotten to put it on the tray.” She held out the plate of biscuits. There was a mixed assortment. Steve took one, a plain digestive. When he saw Daphne dip her own into her tea, he did the same.
“So you’ve upset our Ruby, have you? Where you been to?” Daphne asked in her very strong Bristolian accent.
“Just to the café down the road. Came home worse for wear last night. Haven’t been out like that in such a long time. Anyway…” Steve waved it off. Daphne didn’t need to hear about his and Ruby’s issues. She wouldn’t really understand, not knowing Steve’s true identity.
“Like I said earlier. You’re both getting used to each other. How long you been away?”
“Fifteen years.”
Daphne laughed, more with shock. “Heavens, you’re both strangers really.”
“I’m trying to make it up to her, but can’t really think how.”
“I’m sure she’s grateful really, for you just being you and being here, love.”
“Thanks, but I’m still not sure it’s enough.”
Daphne leaned forward, placed her cup on the tray. “You know, tell me to mind my own business, but don’t you own your mother’s house?”
Steve frowned. How did she know? And why hadn’t he thought about the house? Being so busy with work, and this pretence of being someone else, he’d forgotten about their old family home.
“Ruby told me some time ago that she’d moved because she couldn’t afford to live in her mother’s house. I think it was when I nagged her that she should be buying not renting.”
“Yeah, I’ve been paying the bills, and making sure it’s looked after.”
“Is it bigger than next door?” Daphne’s house was identical to Ruby’s in layout, only the other way around. A mirror image, except for the chintz and china. “Might give you both some breathing space. I never believed Ruby wanted to leave the place, just maybe it reminded her too much of the past, of her mother, or even you?”
Steve’s mind worked overtime. Daphne had come up with an excellent idea. He let her chat away about the good old days as they drank their tea. When they’d finished, he took the tray out to the kitchen, telling Daphne to sit tight, even switching her television on for her. He’d found the perfect thing he could do for Ruby.
“Not a word to Ruby about the house,” he said, winking.
“Don’t worry, Steve, your secret is safe with me,” she replied.
Steve frowned with surprise. “My name’s Stuart,” he stammered.
“Of course it is, dear.” She tapped her nose. “It’s okay. I won’t say a word. I put two and two together earlier. I’m not as deaf as everyone thinks.”
“Earlier?”
“I’ll let Ruby tell you.” She went to get up but Steve held up his hand, to gesture for her to stay sitting, and then he showed himself out. Thankfully, the rain had ceased – for now.
He immediately dialled Marie.
“Do you even know what time it is here, buster?” Marie sounded sleepy, and angry, and refreshingly American.
“Sorry, Marie.” He hadn’t thought of the time difference, just the need to get things in motion. And when he set his mind to something, it had to be done right away. “Please can you send me the number of the contractors looking after my house here in England? I’ve not got my other phone.” He looked up to his bedroom window, visualising exactly where he’d left it, on the small desk. He left it switched on in case the real world contacted him, charging it up regularly. “And send it to this number, not my usual mobile, I mean cell phone.”
“Okay. Gosh, you’re sounding all British again. So darn cute.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ve had to work on regaining my accent, for my disguise.”
“It’s James Bond.” She laughed. “How’s that going, anyway?”
“Good. How’s my double?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about him. In fact, take a look at this month’s issue of Hello. And you might even be in OK.”
“I’ll take a look, just please send me that number, as soon as.”
“I deserve a raise.”
“Thank you.”
***
Waiting for Marie to get back to him, Steve walked down to the corner shop, where he’d become a bit of a regular. The guy behind the counter who Steve would idly chat to about the football appeared blind to the fact that Steve could actually be famous.
“Don’t worry, those are for my sister,” Steve said, pointing to the Hello and OK magazines as the male shop assistant scanned them. Steve had tucked them under two other magazines; FHM and GQ. He thought he’d throw them in to disguise the fact he was buying women’s magazines – the ones he really wanted. Being a Hollywood actor in disguise sure did make you paranoid.
He paid for his shopping and sat on the wall outside the shop, flicking through the magazines. There wasn’t a major feature or anything, just more in the gossip columns, but there they were, photos of him, or rather his stunt double, basking in the Caribbean sun. Whoa! Basking in the sun with a very attractive young woman. A ‘mystery brunette’ as the magazine quoted. Marie really was trying to keep the press at bay, wanting to get the message loud and clear: Steve was over Erica.
Was he over Erica?
He’d hoped she’d be the woman he’d marry, have children with, although he knew their relationship would be tough, both being actors. But they’d have made it work. Steve would have tried. He’d had this idea – what he realised now as pure fantasy – that they could have worked together, followed each other from set to sets of different filming. They’d take it in turns to make a film, whatever. He’d been prepared to do anything to make it stick.
But as quickly as the fire had lighted between them, it had died. Well, it hadn’t died for Steve, only Erica. The press had caught hold of them planning to marry, which they’d never officially announced. It had been leaked. She’d decided she didn’t want marriage, didn’t want kids – yet. Maybe he could understand her apprehension about starting a family; Erica was still young, in her prime, and at the height of her career. But marriage? There was the crux of it, she hadn’t loved him enough to get married.
On his walk back up to Ruby’s house, Marie’s email with the agent’s details came through to his phone. Steve made some calls, and caught a taxi to their old family house.
As he got out, he swallowed down the shock at seeing his old family house. He had visited it briefly for their mother’s wake, but other than that, he’d hardly been home in fifteen years.
He didn’t remember it looking so rundown. He certainly hadn’t noticed at the funeral, but then his mind had been on his mother’s death. Was its run-down state purely due to a lack of residents over the past years, or had it been fifteen years of not having any help with the upkeep? The sills needed painting, the blue front door had faded. The front garden was sparse where bushes and flowers had died with neglect. It was mainly lawn but that was weedy and too long, cut too early before the winter had set in.
When Ruby decided she could no longer live in it, after their mother’s death, he’d taken over its charges. The furniture had gone into storage and the house left empty. He hadn’t liked the thought of renting it out to strangers. However, he hadn’t realised how quick a place could become rundown with no-one living in it.
Looking at the sorry state of the building and the attention it needed, he realised he had some work to do. It was time Ruby came home.
***
“Where’ve you been?” Ruby answered the front door, frowning with concern at Steve.
“Out and about,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket.
At least Ruby seemed calmer than this morning. He walked into the lounge and Ruby sat back down on the sofa, picking up her book.
“But you’ve been ages.”
“I forgot my key.” Steve wasn’t going to tell Ruby about the house yet. He’d wait until it was ready, or almost ready. Then he’d surprise her. “I got breakfast in the high street, then came back and you were gone, so I had a chat with Daphne – and tea and biscuits,” he emphasised. “Then went for another stroll.” He slung the magazines on the coffee table in front of Ruby. “I’m in the gossip columns of Hello. And a small photograph in OK.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yeah, a journalist from the Bristol Gazette knocked on my door, hence I went out to lead him away from here, in case you came home.”
“Oh.” Steve frowned. This explained Daphne knowing who he really was. The old girl was switched on. “What did you tell him?”
“No comment.” She grinned, then her expression sobered. “Does this mean you have to leave?” She sat up straighter, throwing the book aside, and started flicking through the magazines.
Steve laughed. “No, it means my plan is working. He is my stunt double, but I asked if he’d do this for me. I wanted to get away, escape to the UK without the press following me, so Marie suggested we pay for him to take a holiday in the Caribbean.” Steve shrugged, then chuckled. “If it works, I might ask him to do it more often.”
“Oh, right.” Ruby found the page and read the small feature. “Wow, he does look like you…when your hair was that bit longer. I didn’t really look at the magazine closely when Terry presented it to me. Terry showing up has worried me. We’ve got to be careful, this journalist knows I have a famous brother. If he sees you, your cover will be blown. I know he only works for the Bristol Gazette, but the bastard is ambitious.”
Steve nodded, dread sinking in, hating the idea of having to watch his back. Had he become complacent? Everything had been going well. Though, he found the less you acted like a star, the less people believed you were one.
Ruby smirked, still reading the article. “Says you’ve found love again with a secret woman.”
“Yep, apparently so.” He smiled again. This storyline pleased Steve. What would be Erica’s reaction if she read it? Scratch that, she probably won’t care. She’s moved on. So should you.
“Yeah, that’s why Terry was sniffing around. Wanted to know if I knew anything.”
“Who is this Terry?”
“No one.” Ruby continued to flick through the magazine.
“Ruby?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped.
“Okay.” Steve held his hands up, knowing when it was best to back off, especially when it came to Ruby. He was learning, and he didn’t want to ruin the mood. “At least the press think I’m in the Caribbean, so it should keep the heat off me here for a while longer.”
“Good,” Ruby looked up at him, “I know I was mad, and everything, but I don’t want you to leave me.” Ruby’s bottom lip wobbled, her eyes glistened and she swallowed.
“Hey, no way.” Steve slumped onto the sofa beside her, hugging her closely. “I want to spend time with you, Roo. I want to make up for not being here.” He kissed the top of her head, like he remembered his father used to do, though she wasn’t four anymore.
“Phew! For a moment I thought I’d scared you off.”
“Take a lot more than you blowing a gasket to get rid of me.” Steve reached for the remote control and turned on the television. “So, shall we watch a film tonight, or play on the Wii?”
“Wii. I want to beat you at tennis.”
“Deal.” Steve turned on the Wii and handed Ruby a controller. They were soon standing in the middle of the lounge, playing tennis, Ruby cheering and goading him when she won a point. They laughed; last night’s argument and this morning’s tempers forgotten.
An hour into the game, Steve frowned, swinging his Wii controller. “You know, we could do with a bigger screen.” He regretted taking Ruby on, she was seriously whupping his ass at tennis.
“I can’t afford a bigger TV.”
“I can. Let’s go shopping tomorrow. I’ll buy you one.”
“Steve, haven’t you heard of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’?”
“Yeah, I know. But I can buy you a new one.”
“There is nothing wrong with this TV.”
“You could have a flat screen, high definition, it would look great. Blu-ray…”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “No, Steve,” she said firmly.
“Go on. I want a bigger TV.”
“Doesn’t anyone say no to you in Hollywood?”
Actually, they didn’t. If he wanted something, he got it.
Ruby sighed. “I don’t want you spending unnecessarily. Besides, you shouldn’t flash your money around, remember? Act normally. Otherwise I’ll have to set you a budget, to appreciate having a limited income.”
“No one need know.”
“What about Callum and Brett if they come over again? They’d definitely notice a flashy new TV.”
“I only want to treat you.”
“You’re treating me by spending time with me. I mean, how many celebrities would stay home, play Wii and eat takeaway pizza – cold – when they could be high flying it in some posh Michelin-star restaurant, with a high class date?”
“I’m having fun.” And he was. Amazing how you appreciated the little things in life when it was so hard to have them. Everyone expected a celebrity to choose the high life.
“Even though I’m beating you?” Ruby’s serious expression softened into a sneaky smile.
He nudged her and set another game up. “Yeah, but next you’ve got to play me at golf.”