down his client list?” My eyes must answer for me, because she can tell from my face that I haven’t and looks delighted. “I just hope, for your sake, he doesn’t adopt a ‘last in, first out’ policy. It would be dreadful for your career if he dropped you now.” I zone out for a moment, remembering that Tony said we needed to talk, but hasn’t returned any of my calls since. I keep my concerns to myself.
Alicia joins us and I drink more wine than I should. I listen to the two of them gossip about directors, producers, and fellow actors, while silently worrying that my agent is about to dump me. Jack’s eyes are smiling and wide open, but he can’t seem to see her for who and what she is. Alicia isn’t just two-faced, it’s more complicated than that; she has several sides, all equally self-beneficial. She’s like a loaded dice, but most people don’t know when they’re being played. She spends the whole time constantly looking over Jack’s shoulder, to see if someone more famous is in the room for her to pounce on. Last I heard she was taking a break from acting for a little while, so it seems odd to find her here at Pinewood.
I admire her false eyelashes, which flutter with every false word, and stare in amazement as each tiny synthetic hair transforms into the shape of a letter. A paper chain of miniature black words start to stream from her eyes, her nose, the corners of her mouth, until her whole face is covered in a tattoo of little black lies. I know I am imagining this, and I consider the possibility I might have had too much to drink. She smiles and I notice a tiny bit of red lipstick has made itself at home on her white teeth; the sight of it brings me untold happiness, so I take another big sip of my wine in celebration.
When the bottle is empty, I order another, topping up my glass as soon as it arrives. I look at the way Jack is staring at Alicia and wish she would just go away, I want him to look at me like that. Only me. The thought generates a moment of guilt; I am still married, but then I remember what Ben is doing to me now, and what he has done to me in the past. The lipstick under our bed didn’t get there by itself, and he couldn’t have come up with a plan this elaborate on his own either.
Who is she? Who is helping my husband try to destroy me? When I find out, I’ll destroy them both.
I am most definitely drunk.
Alicia stands to leave and I can smell her perfume as she kisses the air on either side of my cheeks. Her scent is too strong, overpowering and sickly, just like the woman wearing it. I slur my words when I try to say goodbye. It’s just Jack and me now, he’s finally looking back in my direction, and ready or not I know what I want.
Twenty-four
Essex, 1988
“I still don’t know if she’s ready for this,” says Maggie.
“She’s ready,” John replies. “All she’s got to do is walk and hold my hand, it ain’t difficult.”
I think maybe they are going to have a fight. They fight a lot, and it makes me wonder if my real mummy and daddy fought a lot, too, before she died. Maybe that’s just what grown-ups do: shout loud words at each other that have nothing to do with what they are really cross about.
“Would you rather something happened to me?” asks John. “I’m starting to wonder who you care more about? Me, or a child who isn’t even really ours?”
I hear the sound Maggie’s hand makes when it hits a cheek. I know the sound because sometimes it’s my cheek that it’s hitting. Then I hear the sound of John’s big leather boots coming towards my bedroom and the door bursts open. He grabs my wrist and pulls me into the hall. I only see Maggie for a second as we fly past their bedroom; I’ve never seen her cry before.
I trip on the stairs a couple of times on the way down, but John holds me up by one arm until my feet make contact with the wood again. When we get to the bottom, I think we are going to turn right through the metal door that leads into the