glimpse of America. Los Angeles is enormous. Below me there is a perfectly ordered interlaced lattice of roads, quite unlike the organic tangle of roads I left behind in England. The order and space are instantly appealing. Although the distance means the houses look like doll’s houses I can see that they are anything but small. They are all well kept; most are massive and many have pools. There are hundreds and hundreds of cars lined along the streets or parked in driveways, glittering like jewels in the sun, but there’s also lots of greenery. From where the angels hang out, LA looks perfect.
As the aeroplane door swings open I am engulfed by a gush of hot air and the smell of wet palm trees; there’s no sign of rain, so I can only assume the airport greenery has recently been hosed down by someone whose job it is to ensure the city of dreams is lush and green on arrival. I breathe deeply and take in my new life. How exciting is this! The ground staff hurry us through customs as fast as they can; we don’t have to wait for luggage, as Saadi’s second assistant is collecting it. As we stride through the electronic doors and head landside Scott scoops me into a big hug and lands a smacker on my lips.
The beautician, Joy, had long nails and was a tad unnecessarily rough but I’m glad I let her fix my makeup and Linda and Natalie massage out my shoulders as we are greeted by a barrage of cameras clicking and whirring and a hundred different voices shouting at me. ‘Over here, love, look this way,’ ‘Give us a smile,’ ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Are you Fern Dickson?’ ‘Show us the ring,’ ‘Why no ring?’ ‘When’s the big day?’ ‘This way darlin’, smile.’
I turn my head from left to right and back again, trying to follow the countless instructions that are being flung my way. The constant blaze of camera flashes causes me to squint. Scott squeezes my hand and slips his sunglasses over his eyes. He puts a protective arm around me and starts to speak; as he does so the dizzying glare of flashes slows down somewhat, as the reporters strain to catch his every word.
‘We haven’t picked out a ring yet. I want to design something personally that’s really special for Fern.’ He does? Wow. See, Saadi had it all wrong. I tune back in to what he’s saying. ‘As soon as we have a date for the wedding we’ll let you know. We won’t keep you waiting; I’m not a fan of long engagements. Now, I have no idea how you came to know about our arrival here today but I hope you can understand we’d like a bit of privacy at this special time so please don’t try to follow us home. That’s all I have to say.’
Scott starts to lead me away and the camera flashes start up in earnest again. ‘Oi, Fern, have you any comment?’
Scott stops to allow me to have my say. I’m on the verge of telling Scott that it was Saadi and Mark who tipped off the press and that’s how they know our whereabouts today, but then it occurs to me that he might already know this, so instead I concentrate on what Saadi said I ought to say.
‘I’m, erm, delighted,’ I say. ‘No, I mean, erm, chuffed.’
Scott tightens his squeeze and quickly leads me to the long, black car waiting for us by the roadside. It’s so shiny that the azure blue sky is reflected in the roof and on the doors like a huge mirror. I catch sight of Saadi shaking her head.
37. Fern
Oh. My. God.
Listen to me, I really need to think up a new expression to capture my constant and escalating surprise or else I’m in danger of becoming as annoying as Janice, Chandler’s ex, on Friends. But really, what are the words that can adequately sum up my astonishment? I was just getting used to the splendour of the hotel and now I’m faced with this. Scott’s home.
We’ve driven up a winding road of high fences and tall established trees. All the houses were huge and grand but Scott’s is the most enormous. It’s incredibly modern, all white walls, vast windows and light decking. It seems to go on for ever; I actually have to swivel my head like some sort of cartoon character in order to take in its breadth. Our