Jack sat on the sofa eating leftover pizza for his Sunday lunch. His head hurt from the too many beers he had consumed whilst watching rubbish Saturday-night television. He took a sip of his now cold coffee, and gagged. Getting up, he threw open the balcony doors and, not caring about the freezing rush of air, he stared out at the view. It was a surprise to him to note just how many boats were sailing up and down the wide estuary waters. Was there such a thing as Sunday boaters, like Sunday drivers? It wasn’t something he could say he fancied in this weather. Although when the sun did pop through, it did feel quite warm on his face. Maybe he should try it before he knocked it. He was sure he had never had this negative attitude towards stuff before he met Riley.
He looked back at his laptop, open at his most recent screenplay. Writing was hard. The screenplay he’d been working on last time he was here had received countless rejections, but he was determined to keep going. And now that he was feeling so miserable, the words for the new script were starting to pour out of him. The male lead was going through heartbreak and it was the first time in his life that Jack could honestly relate to that.
Since overhearing Frank and Monique talking in the cafe on Friday he had decided that he would just hide out at Kara’s place until Sunday. When Star came in to feed James Bond, Jack had held his breath and hid under the duvet, praying that she wouldn’t hear his heart beating loudly beneath it. Just the sound of her sweet voice and kindness to Kara’s beloved cat made him realise why he was feeling this way. Once she’d left, he would sneak out on the balcony so he could maybe catch a glimpse of her either getting in her car or walking back up the hill to her flat.
That morning, he had heard an Irish accent on the ferry and looking out had seen a tall, dark and very striking-looking man who he assumed must be Star’s new partner. The man was the complete antithesis of himself – a five feet eight and a half, pale-faced bearded man with slightly crooked lower teeth and now a scar on his right cheek. He had always felt that he was punching above his weight when he first saw Star – until they had connected over the Pascal quote, that is. And he had finally understood how true those words were, that his ex-girlfriend had written to him all those years ago. Because now, however much his head told him that he didn’t care about Star, that his life was in New York, the pull of his heart had been too great to ignore. Maybe he should just see her and tell her how he felt. He had to leave ridiculously early tomorrow; hit the road by 5 a.m. at the latest if he was to make his early afternoon Heathrow flight. So if he was going to do it, he had to do it today. In fact, he had to do it this afternoon.
Just as he was about to come in off the balcony, he heard voices and laughter below. Realising who it was, he shot inside. Peering behind the curtain in a way Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple would have been proud of, he glimpsed the towering figure of Conor Brady swinging hands with the tiny, ethereal Star Bligh. They were chatting animatedly as they walked along the crazy-paved promenade, even stopping for a quick kiss before they pushed the door open to the Ferryboat.
Jack slammed the balcony doors shut and kicked the large empty pizza box that was on the floor. How ridiculous had he been, to think that Star would be sitting waiting for him! In fact, he felt embarrassed and shocked that he could have been self-absorbed and obsessed enough to think such a thing. Star had known that he had a girlfriend. And not only had he blatantly gone back to Riley, but he had also ignored Star’s messages and then selfishly told her, via the third party that was Kara when he had bumped into her in New York, that he was sorry! No wonder the girl had moved on. He had given her no reason to do otherwise.