chapter049
‘Hi, I’m staying for one night. Double room.’
To date Elliot Owen was to have a luggage case handle near-permanently welded to one hand.
‘What name please?’
This time, she’d asked Elliot to clarify that. Edie felt ridiculous repeating it, more so in her city than a foreign metropolis. This was the land of the Brian Clough legend, green buses, and a university boating lake, not pseudonymous hotel check-ins. She felt like she was part of a sunglassesindoors, tranquilisers-and-champagne era Fleetwood Mac.
‘Uhm, it’s under Roger Thornhill.’
They still wanted to see Edie’s ID, so she was glad she’d not called herself Ada Minge.
(‘Why the phony name? No one our age is called Roger – they’ll think I’m on the blow job payroll of a sugar daddy!’ Edie had said, additionally irked that the aliases were an old wheeze of Elliot and Heather’s.
‘Why do you think?’ Elliot had said. ‘Cuts down attention and cutting down attention cuts down hassle.’
‘Would anyone honestly notice?’ Edie said, a little waspishly, and Elliot replied: ‘That’s what we’re not bothering to find out, Mrs Danvers.’)
‘Ah, you’re in the suite,’ said the man on reception, jabbing at a keyboard. Of course.
Elliot’s parents had yet to vacate their house, and Edie was glad. When that day came, she’d have to take in the fact that Elliot had bought a house for her. Yes, you could rationalise it as an investment, a favour to his parents, a base for him.
The fact remained it was, truthfully, for her.
The plan was drinks then dinner, but Elliot was running late, so Edie ended up meeting the group on her own. She felt more antsy than usual, she supposed because there were people present who didn’t know Elliot. She’d learned you could never anticipate exactly how people would react to a famous face.
Edie
We’ll be at this restaurant from half 7! Will you be all right making your way straight there, if I go on ahead?xx
Elliot
I have Maps on my phone, I used to live here, and I’m a grown human man, so I think so, yes xx
‘Happy birthday, Nick!’ Edie said.
Hannah, looking especially beautiful and like a young Sissy Spacek in a high-necked blouse, ceremoniously produced Nick’s gift, jointly acquired between herself, Edie, and Chloe. It was a limited-edition test pressing of Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks and had cost a hefty sum on eBay. Edie insisted only Hannah was responsible enough to take care of it. Edie could imagine Meg using it as a plate coaster. She’d not been able to attend tonight due to her shift pattern, but Edie had been touched this had been communicated directly with Nick by Meg, with promise of a drink another time. She and her sister shared friends now. They’d come a long way, baby.
‘You’ve made this vinyl collector Peter Pan very happy,’ Nick said, wiping away a tear.
Edie tried not to hawk-watch the door and was gurgling like a fool at a Declan witticism when Elliot was suddenly in front of her, shrugging off a navy jacket with a crimson lining that she’d not seen before: a man of many coats.
‘Elliot …!’ Edie said. ‘Declan, Kieran, this is my boyfriend, Elliot.’ She was pointedly defining him by their relationship, not his career.
There was some brisk hand shaking, and Elliot waved hello at Nick, Hannah, and Chloe.
Elliot said: ‘Ah, I recognise you from your pap pics,’ to Declan, and Edie thought it was funny, but Declan only looked bemused and unexpectedly starstruck. Kieran had been no doubt told not to stare; he still did.
Elliot didn’t notice, in a very well-practised at not noticing kind of way, accepting a bottle of Modelo. Being famous meant you didn’t get to do standard hellos and introductions; you changed air pressure instead.
They fell naturally into three groups, conversationally: the Nick trio, Declan and Kieran catching up with each other, leaving Edie and Elliot to confidentially couple chat.
‘Next time I see you is the wedding, then,’ Elliot said. ‘I’ll send a car to take you there on the morning. My parents are going down the night before for lots of rigmarole with the Molly clan.’
Edie, deciding not to argue the convenience and wisdom of the car, said thank you.
‘I’m flying overnight to make it in time. I’m going to take an Ambien and wash it down with a GT to get some rest. I’ll look like Beetlejuice,’ Elliot said.
‘They don’t give you time off for close family members weddings?’
‘They have done – they’ve bumped a few days filming, but may I remind you that this involved very little notice. I’m popular with my workmates for it at least – Ines is thinking of doing a UK trip.’
‘Hopefully not to Suffolk,’ Edie said.
‘Hah. The last thing any of us want to do is spend time with each other on our days off, I assure you.’
Edie was emboldened sufficiently to add: ‘Note that I’ve not asked when you’re filming that scene because I am such a Cool Girl.’
‘Oh, it’s done.’
‘What?’ Edie whispered, alcohol curdling in her gut. ‘Really? I thought you were shooting chronologically?’
‘We are, but Ines asked to get it out of the way. I don’t blame her.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You said you didn’t want to know!’
He had her bang to rights there. And meanwhile, he’d right banged Ines. She should drop it at once, in company, and of course, she couldn’t.
‘… What was it like?’
‘It wasn’t too bad,’ Elliot said, and Edie flinched because her nerves needed something like ugh, it’s given me PTSD.‘It was a strange way to spend an afternoon, but we got it in a respectable number of takes. You’re trying to simulate the throes of passion while remembering where you were told to put your hand. It’s like following complicated dance steps while trying to story-tell a tango. It’s absolutely nothing like the, er, real thing, I promise.’
‘Right,’ Edie said flatly.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Declan said. ‘Edie, I was telling Kieran about your incredible story about the pissed-up wine merchant from a few years back?’
‘Ah … Olly?’
‘That’s the one!’
Declan encouraged Edie into reciting funny tales of Ad Hoc past. The seating arrangements dictated the limits of the socialising: Declan and Kieran were breakwaters between the rest of the company.
Elliot was quieter than usual, Kieran knew no one, and Edie tried to compensate by leaning on her ease with Declan. Edie felt the beer, then mezcal, acting as bonding agent.
‘Have you seen Meg’s got a new weapon in her culinary armoury?’ Declan said at one point, showing Edie a photo of a utensil. ‘Corn cob peeler. Apparently vegan creamed corn is the next frontier.’
‘He’s got Meg’s number?’ Elliot said, under his breath, perplexed.
‘Oh, there’s a back story involving a potato masher,’ Edie said.
Conversation moved to Declan’s single status. He’d not dated anyone since Aisling, and once Kieran was merry, that became a reason to berate his best friend.
‘Why not try the apps?’ Kieran said. ‘You’ve got loads going for you. Hasn’t he, Edie?’
‘Sure,’ Edie said. ‘Height. Girls love height.’
‘Do they?’ Declan said.
‘Oh yeah, isn’t that a whole thing? Setting minimum height preferences?’
Kieran put a hand up to cup his mouth, the gesture for imparting a secret. ‘Also, length. Dec is rumoured to be hung like a horse.’ He put his hands down. ‘Hahaha – wait, you can actually tell us if that’s true, Edie? You’ve unfortunately had eyes on the prize, I hear?’
Oh no no … NO. He’d told Kieran about his sleepwalking?
Edie had said it would alchemise into a pub yarn – little could she have known it would in fact become radioactive matter.