23. Nicole
Chapter 23 Nicole
It was pain that woke her. The hammering in her head and sore, gritty eyes. The exhausted, emotional hangover that came from too much crying.
She groped for the water she always kept by the bed and then remembered that she wasn’t in her little room in Milly’s boathouse.
She opened her eyes and saw Joel dozing in a chair in the corner of the room.
She sat up, disorientated, and he opened his eyes and yawned.
“You’re awake. Shame. I hoped you might sleep a little longer.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was obviously struggling to focus. “You look terrible, Wendy. I’d better call hair and makeup.”
It was astonishing that even in her current state, with everything that had happened, he could still coax a smile from her. Or maybe she was just relieved to wake up and find she wasn’t alone. Whenever there was a crisis in her life, she was almost always alone.
“My head is exploding. Have you been sleeping in the chair all night?”
He glanced at his watch. “We were still talking at two and it’s only five now, so I wouldn’t really call that a night. I generally need more than three hours’ sleep to be able to function. I’ll get you painkillers for your head, and maybe you’ll go back to sleep again.”
He levered himself out of the chair, and she noticed several dark smudges on his now crumpled shirt.
“What happened to your shirt?”
He glanced down at himself. “You cried on it. I think you were wearing mascara. Not that I’m an expert on such things, but I’m guessing it wasn’t waterproof.”
That’s right. She’d cried on him. For hours.
She probably should have felt embarrassed and awkward, but for some reason she didn’t. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem bothered about it.
“I owe you a shirt.”
“Forget it. I’ll fetch those painkillers.”
“No painkillers. But water would be great, thank you.”
He left the room and returned moments later with a cool cloth for her head and a glass filled with ice water.
She sipped it gratefully and closed her eyes as he pressed the cloth to her forehead.
“I’m grateful to you.”
“For what?”
“For answering your phone when I called. For letting me stay here. For listening.” Her eyes filled again. “After Milly walked out I felt so bad. I didn’t want to be on my own. It’s not her fault, by the way, so don’t blame her. It’s my fault. All of it.”
“Don’t think about that now. We’ll figure it all out, and you can stay here until we do.”
She sniffed. “I’ll book a flight later. I’ll go home to California.”
“Why would you do that?” He grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand and put it on her lap. “You told me last night that you haven’t slept a single night in your house since the intruder incident. You said that California doesn’t feel like home. That you’ve been happier here than you’ve been anywhere.”
She’d told him all that?
“That’s true. But I can’t exactly hang around Forest Nest, can I? I let Milly down. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.” She’d failed her friend, and that was the worst feeling because Milly had been there for her when no one else was.
He took the cloth from her. “Let’s see how that works out. No need to make any quick decisions.”
He was so calm and measured, treating everything as if it wasn’t that big a deal, that she started to feel her panic recede.
She pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose.
“Why did you sleep in the chair?”
“Because you were upset, and I didn’t want to leave you alone.” He brushed damp strands of her hair away from her face. “Also, I figured that this way I could still tell my grandkids that I spent the night with a famous look-alike actress. You need to drink all that water, Wendy. Every drop.”
“I don’t even remember going to bed.”
“I carried you. You cried for a long time. You were exhausted.”
“You put a blanket over me.”
“Yes. And I took your shoes off. I hope that’s okay. I drew the line at undressing you.”
She drank the water. “I don’t know why you’re being kind. I’m a stranger. You don’t know anything about me. Just what you see in the movies.” And she was used to that, of course. People who thought they knew who she was because they’d seen her on the big screen.
He took the empty glass from her and put it on the nightstand. “Exactly how much do you remember about last night?”
“Apart from the part where you carried me to bed, most of it. Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t drink or anything.”
“You didn’t drink because you’re pregnant. I know.” He nodded. “You told me.”
“I told you that?” Her head reeled. She remembered sobbing onto his shoulder and blurting out words, but maybe her memory of what she’d said wasn’t as clear as she’d thought. “When?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “When did you tell me you were pregnant?” He thought for a moment. “I seem to remember it was in between the part where you told me how terrified you were of being a bad mother because of your own mother and the part when you said that Justin was a weak-minded, pathetic snake and you realized you didn’t really love him at all, you just thought you loved him because you so badly wanted to have someone special in your life.”
With a groan she leaned back against the pillows and covered her face with her hands. “What else did I say?”
“You want me to repeat it word for word? Because you talked without stopping for at least three hours. Maybe four. I wasn’t watching the time.”
She was mortified. “That must have been a delightful experience for you.”
“It was enlightening. And after everything you told me, I happen to agree that Justin does seem like a weak-minded, pathetic snake. And it’s brutally unfair that you’ve been lacerated in the press and dropped from your next movie while he appears to have enjoyed a career boost. By the way, if being pregnant is the reason you’re not taking painkillers, I think the one I have in my cupboard is considered safe, but if you’re worried, I can call my brother-in-law and ask. He’s a doctor.”
She rubbed her face and then lowered her hands and looked at him. “I’m sorry I subjected you to a total deluge of my emotions. I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”
“I think you’ve been through a lot and have some flaky, unreliable people in your life.”
“But not Milly.” Guilt pierced her heart. She’d hurt Milly badly, and still Milly had shown up for her. She’d put her own feelings aside to be there for Nicole, even when Nicole hadn’t been there for her.
She couldn’t work out what she should do next. She’d called him in a moment of desperation, but she knew it was only temporary.
“Where’s my phone? I’ll call a cab.”
“You’re not calling a cab. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had a shower, eaten something and given proper thought to what you want to do. Maybe it’s time to stop running.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were running when you called me last night,” he said. “Running when you went to Milly. It seems to me it would be a nice change for you to start living your life on your own terms. Leave somewhere because you want to rather than because you feel you have to. There’s no reason for you to rush off. No one knows you’re here, not even Milly.”
The mention of Milly’s name had the tears flowing again.
“She is never going to forgive me. I’ve ruined the best and only real relationship in my life.”
“Hey, enough.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “You have to stop this. We’re going to figure it all out, I promise.”
She sniffed. “I still don’t know why you’re helping me.”
“You’re looking for an ulterior motive, and after everything you said to me last night I understand why. Everyone in your life wants something from you, don’t they?” His voice was gentle. “Must be impossible to filter out what’s real. So let’s address this.”
“Address what?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to examine her life too closely right now.
“Address why people try and get close to you. You listed it for me at one point last night. Number one was your influence in the industry—that’s of no use to me at all. Number two was wealth.” He counted them off on his fingers. “I am fortunate enough to be financially independent and I enjoy the life I’ve made for myself, so I’m not interested in your money. What else was there? Oh, your looks.” He studied her for a moment, and a faint smile touched his mouth. “You look truly terrible, Wendy, and I’m still sitting here so I think we can strike that out as a possible reason I’m sticking around.”
She scraped her fingers through her hair, trying to shape it. “I look terrible?”
“You do. But I don’t care. It’s good to know that even a movie star can get red eyes when they cry. And as we’re being brutally honest with each other—”
“You’re the one being brutally honest,” she muttered. “No one has ever told me I look terrible before. But go on—don’t hold back. What else do you have to tell me?”
“Are you sure you want to hear it?” He pulled a face. “This is a big one. It could possibly end our friendship.”
Our friendship.
It was comforting to think of it that way and to know that he was thinking it too. When she’d called him in desperation she’d felt completely alone in the world, but now she didn’t.
“If the fact that I ruined your shirt didn’t end our friendship, then I’m sure it will survive whatever it is you need to tell me.”
“Let’s see.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t particularly enjoy going to the movies. I’ve taken my nieces to a few animated films, but generally I prefer spending my time outdoors or reading a good book. I’m not very familiar with your work.” He cleared his throat. “I think I’ve seen one of your movies.”
He’d seen just one of her movies.
He was watching her, waiting. “You’re smiling. Why are you smiling? Say something.”
“You think I’m ugly, and you don’t like my movies.”
He frowned. “I didn’t exactly say you were ugly. And I didn’t say I don’t like your movies. I don’t really like any movies. It’s not personal. You need to pay closer attention, Wendy.”
She grabbed the tissue he’d given her and blew her nose. “If you don’t like movies, then obviously we can never be friends.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Which is a pity because I’m a bit low on friends at the moment. Always, in fact.” The reality of her situation hit again. “I’ve been a terrible friend to Milly, and she is never going to forgive me.”
“Okay, enough self-pity.” He stood up. “If you’re not going back to sleep, then go and take a hot shower and get dressed, and I’ll make you some breakfast. Then we’ll talk and work out a plan together.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” She glanced around her. “Where’s my phone?”
“I confiscated it because you kept wanting to message Milly, and I thought maybe you both needed time.”
“Time isn’t going to fix this.”
He paused by the door, sympathy in his eyes. “When things went wrong for my sister, she felt the same way. Her life was shattered, and she couldn’t see how it would ever be right again. But you’ll do what she did and make it right, piece by piece. And maybe your life won’t end up looking the same as it used to, but there’s a good chance it might even look better.”
She didn’t say that without Milly’s friendship there was no way her life could be better.
“Did your sister ruin your shirt too?”
He smiled. “Take that shower, Wendy. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
She did as he suggested and felt better for it.
Once she’d washed and dried her hair, she changed into a pair of fresh shorts and a T-shirt from her suitcase.
By the time she joined him in the kitchen, her head had stopped throbbing.
“Something smells good.”
She noticed that the ends of his hair were still damp, so presumably he’d taken a quick shower too.
“Bacon, scrambled eggs, mushrooms. When we’ve eaten this, we can turn to strong coffee.” He served it onto plates and put them on the table next to two glasses filled with juice. “I squeezed a couple of oranges so that you have vitamin C.”
She took a mouthful of eggs and discovered she was hungrier than she’d thought, so she took another mouthful and then another and then put her fork down.
He raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s delicious, but as I told you before, I can’t put on weight in my job. It’s just how it is.”
“I get that, but from what you were saying last night you don’t actually have a job at the moment, so maybe this is a good time to eat.” He nudged the plate closer to her. “If you don’t eat, you’ll offend me.”
She picked up her fork again. “So, you’re saying that it’s fine if I ruin your shirt and deprive you of sleep, but if I don’t eat your bacon, then our friendship is over?”
“That sounds about right. And talking of friendship, I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About Milly and Richard and what happened.”
“A grisly story, don’t you think?”
“It’s a pretty sad story. But I think that in all the emotional upset, you’re losing sight of the most important factor.”
“Which is?”
“That the person in the wrong here is Richard.”
It was true that she’d virtually wiped Richard from her thoughts. Her head was filled with Milly and the words she’d spoken. “I was in the wrong too because I wasn’t there for Milly.” It was painful to think about it. She so badly wanted to put the clock back and make different decisions. “I felt so bad about what I’d overheard and what I’d said to him. I was scared of what it would do to our friendship if I told her what had happened, and I just didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing. I wasn’t there for her.”
“You’re so hard on yourself. You were put in a horrible position.”
“Yes.” She could admit that now. She could also admit that she’d been a coward. “But I should have been there for her. The crazy thing is that I was afraid to tell her the truth in case it ruined our friendship, but I managed to ruin it anyway.”
“I doubt that.”
Nicole thought back to the night before. And she thought about what she knew about Milly. “The thing I forgot,” she said slowly, “is that Milly has an almost visceral fear of being abandoned. I suppose it started when her dad left. Loyalty is everything to her. Being able to depend on someone. Trust them. I knew that, and yet somehow I forgot it. I was focused only on myself.”
“And that’s understandable too. No one gets it right all the time, Nicole.” He used her name for the first time. “We’re not puppets. We bring our own life experiences and beliefs to every interaction, and what seems right to one person might be wrong to another. I think Milly will realize that when she has had time to reflect. Where did she go, anyway?”
“She went to stay with Connie.”
“Well, there you go.” He pushed his plate away. “Connie will help her figure it out. She’s the wisest person I know. And if you don’t want to go back to the boathouse, you can stay here. Make yourself at home in my spare room until you figure out what you want to do.”
The offer overwhelmed her. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”
“Friendship isn’t transactional,” he said. “No payment required.”
She realized that, for her, friendship had always been transactional, apart from her relationship with Milly.
“I kept you awake for most of the night, and you’ll be going to work soon. You must be exhausted.”
“Nothing that strong coffee won’t fix.” He stood up and made them both coffee. “Do you love being an actor? Do you still enjoy it?”
She watched as he made two espressos and then foamed milk. She thought about how much fun she’d had rehearsing with Zoe. “I love acting. I hate the movie business. Not the same thing.”
“Have you considered giving it up?”
“I think that decision may have been taken out of my hands. The movie business seems to have given me up.” But she knew what he was asking. “Acting was my dream. And I wanted to be good at it. The best. I wanted to be famous.” That was before she’d known what fame meant. What it brought with it.
“Because you wanted to make your mother proud. Prove that you were good at something.” He put the coffee on the table and sat down opposite her. “That was something else you told me last night.”
“That hasn’t happened, and I’ve accepted that it never will. I’m just the wrong daughter for her. Square peg, round hole and all that. Maybe if I’d been a scientist or a mathematician . . .” She took a sip of coffee.
“Parental love isn’t a movie award. It isn’t something you win. You don’t have to be voted the best at something to deserve it. And if you couldn’t please her, then that’s her failure, not yours. No child should be made to feel as if they have to earn a parent’s love. They should grow up knowing they’re loved for who they are, not who their parents want them to be. And if that doesn’t happen, then the fault doesn’t lie with you.”
In her heart she knew that, but it was good to hear him say it.
“I grew up wanting her approval. Needing it. And every time I did well I’d think This is it, this is the moment when she is going to say something warm and loving , but she never did. And after a while it ceased to matter because the public gave me the approval I needed. And at the beginning the fame gave me confidence. It finally made me feel as if I was an okay person. As long as I had their good opinion, I felt validated. It was like a drug. Gave me a real high.”
She waited for him to say something, but he sat quietly, paying attention, so she carried on.
“But then people turn on you. A rumor on social media. A photograph that’s misinterpreted. A movie that tanks. And you realize how thin and shallow it all is. And it isn’t real, of course, because they’re judging the parts you play, not you. And producers and directors claim to love you, but all they really love is the money you bring in. All that flattery and attention from studio heads isn’t about you but about your commercial value. And eventually you realize that the whole thing is empty and that despite all the fame and success you’re lonelier than you’ve ever been.” She felt awkward. “Sorry. I know how lucky I’ve been. I’m grateful for it.”
He stirred. “Presumably one of the upsides of the success is that it has given you financial security. Financial security gives you a certain degree of freedom, but you don’t feel free at the moment, do you?”
“No.”
“In the end the only opinion that really matters is your own. Only you can decide what is right for you. What you really want to do with your life.”
“Playing other people was a way of not thinking about who I was. I’ve done it for so long, I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore.”
“Of course you do.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Like many creative people, you’re sensitive. You care what people think. You love the outdoors, and you’re naturally adventurous, but the life you’re living now has made you wary and afraid. You’re sure of your talents because you know you’re good at what you do, but despite that you worry that you’re not enough. Everything you do, you have to be best at because you think that’s the way to earn people’s respect and love. You didn’t feel that you were good enough as a daughter, and that created a lasting impact. It’s the reason you feel you haven’t been a good enough friend to Milly, even though it’s obvious that you’ve been a great friend, despite this recent blip. It’s the reason you’re afraid you won’t be good enough as a mother, when any child would be lucky to have you in their life. You’re trusting and loyal by nature, but people have betrayed and used you so many times you no longer dare to be who you really are.”
She swallowed, a little shaken by his insight. “I must have said a lot more last night than I remember saying.”
“How would it feel to just be yourself and not have to try so hard? You put all your effort into being the best, becoming a star, being big—but what would life look like if it was smaller? If the only people who cared what you do and think and eat for breakfast are the people who love you?”
She stared into her coffee cup. “There aren’t many of those.”
“I think you’ll find you’re wrong about that, but either way isn’t it better to live the life you choose rather than a life designed to please other people, whether it’s your mother or an audience?”
“Acting was my dream.”
“And in your case you made it a reality, but it doesn’t sound like much of a dream anymore. Maybe it’s time to find a new dream.” He finished his coffee. “It’s hard to give up something you’ve excelled at. I can see that. Why leave something when you’re at the top of your game? But if it’s no longer what you want to do, it’s okay to let it go. Move on to something new.”
“I wouldn’t even know what to do if I wasn’t an actor.” She toyed with her cup.
“From what you’ve said you still enjoy acting, so maybe you can do something lower-key. Milly always says how good you are with Zoe. Maybe you could run drama workshops.”
Milly had told him she was good with Zoe? That unexpected compliment raised her spirits a notch.
“Drama workshops? You mean for kids?”
“I don’t know what I mean. I was just throwing ideas out there as a start.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to go. Why don’t you think about it today while I’m out? There’s plenty of paper in the study, just through that door. Write down all the things that make you happy and all the things you’d like to delete from your life if you had the chance. We can look at it together tonight.”
He stood up and reached for the plates, but she beat him to it.
“I’ll clear up. It’s the least I can do. You get ready.”
“Are you sure? You’ll be all right here today?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to do what you suggested and imagine a different life.” She loaded the dishwasher and wiped the table, and by the time she’d finished he was ready to leave.
“Call if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” She had no intention of calling him. He’d already given her what she needed most. A shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear, sanctuary. More importantly, he’d made her think and question. Now all she needed was some answers.
First she was going to put her California home on the market. That decision was one of the easy ones to make. She should have done it a long time ago. Perhaps by taking that first step, she’d feel as if she was a little more in control.
He paused by the door. “I know you don’t believe me, but everything is going to be okay. I’m sure of it.”
He left the house, and she immediately got to work.
Despite the lack of sleep and dull headache, she felt energized. Talking to Joel, hearing his thoughts on it, had clarified things for her.
She did as he suggested and made a list of all the things she loved about her life, and all the things she considered to be important.
Her baby (that went at the top of the list)
Her friendship with Milly (she was going to ignore the fact that it might no longer exist)
Her relationships with Connie, Nanna Peg, Zoe (and also Joel, but she didn’t want to put that down on paper because she intended to show it to him later)
Acting (the actual process of acting, inhabiting a character)
Spending time outdoors
Physical activity
The list grew, and when she reached the bottom of the page she grabbed another sheet of paper, and this time she started listing all the things she would like never to have to deal with again.
The press
Reading about herself online (those two were linked but she decided they merited separate lines)
Always being watched
Never feeling safe, even with security
Interviews (she loved acting, but she hated talking about it)
That list was heading onto a second page when she heard the front door open and Joel’s voice.
She was surprised. He’d been gone for less than an hour. “Did you forget something? I’ve made good progress here. I’ve already—” The words dried out when she saw his expression. “What?”
“Milly called. Check your phone.”
She hadn’t looked at her phone since the night before. “You took it away from me.”
“You’re right, I did.” He disappeared through to the living room and reappeared holding her phone. “Here.”
“What’s this about?” She switched the phone on and saw the missed call from Milly and the voice mail waiting for her.
She pressed Play.
Nic, it’s me. Mum has collapsed . There was a pause in the message, and it was obvious Milly was crying. We’re in the hospital. I just—I wanted to let you know in case you were wondering where I was.
Connie in hospital?
Why? How?
Nicole played the message again as she grabbed her bag and a sweater.
Joel watched her. “What are you doing?”
She dropped her phone into the bag. “I have to go to her.”
“She didn’t ask you to do that.”
“I know.” But she’d called. That was what they did when one of them was in trouble, wasn’t it? “I’m going anyway.”
“Nicole, you can’t.”
“You heard her. She’s terrified and upset. This is her mother, and they’re so close. She will be worried sick.”
She found her shoes and tugged them on.
“Wait.” He put his hand on her arm. “You’re not thinking this through. You came here to escape. To hide from all the attention. If you do this, that will be it. Everyone will see you.”
Nerves rippled through her, and she felt a moment of sadness that her brief summer hideaway was over. She’d had a glimpse of how other people lived and she wanted more of it.
“This isn’t about me.” She picked up her bag. “It’s about Milly. I let her down before, and there is nothing I can do about that, but I won’t do it again. This time I intend to be there for her. I want to be there for her. Even if she’s still angry. Even if she turns me away. I need to be there.”