Chapter 11
LIGHT TOUCHES
We hover near Table One, surrounded by wealthy people coming to spend money for a worthy cause.
Everyone at this event is so rich, prim and proper that no one has so much as glanced in my direction yet.
It’s almost like I’m a smaller artist again, like when I first met Luc, and I could leave my house without someone running up to me for a photo or an autograph.
That if I wore a hat or sunglasses, I would generally be safe from being recognisable.
That we could go to the supermarket for a couple of cans and then take them over to Tooting Bec Common before heading to Tooting Market in the evening for food and drinks on a Saturday night.
I could make aspects of my world fit in with Luc’s, instead of him needing to give up everything he loves about his life to be with me.
There was no red carpet outside the venue tonight, no pit of journalists screaming questions in our direction, just some cameras and Luc clutching my hand. We walked in shielding our eyes from the cameras. To look like we’re hiding, wanting privacy, but not too much.
We’ve decided not to address what happened two weeks ago with Alex and Luc’s sister-in-law.
Neither of us did anything wrong and we don’t want to give the rumours the time of day.
Jess says if we keep being us that people will forget about the rumours.
Luc’s agent put out a statement that he was with his sister-in-law and Jess told the story of the dress.
Kendra Heath wasn’t happy that news came out apparently, but maybe she should use better clasps.
The location for Rory’s charity gala is grand: an old theatre converted into a venue for events like this.
My silk, blue dress has a high slit in the leg.
It’s decidedly more understated than the dress I wore to the premiere three weeks ago.
Since then, Luc and I have been lying low waiting for the rumours to stop.
Texting every so often, but mostly I’ve been deciding the setlist, meeting with choreographers, and crashing in bed with a book as soon as I get home.
Jess says that we can’t go too hard too fast with this, or people will smell a rat.
I tell Luc how Rory told me the seating plans at these things are designed to pit rich people against each other, for them to compete to show that actually they’re the most generous person in the room, thank you very much.
‘Paul on Table Three,’ I whisper, nodding my head subtly in the direction of a man with a designer shaggy 70s haircut, strands of grey running through the chestnut brown.
‘He asked for a pay rise this year, citing the cost-of-living crisis.’ I swallow and lower my voice further.
‘But he does his weekly food shop in Fortnum and Mason.’
‘Don’t we all do that?’ Dennis points out, taking his Sainsbury’s-branded packet of tissues out of his top pocket.
My brother arrives, a shorter lady next to him. Her hair is scraped into a sleek, glamorous ponytail, eyes lined with a stunning burgundy liner which accentuates her green eyes beautifully. My mouth drops open.
‘You brought a date!’
Rory clears his throat. ‘Actually, this is Lilli.’ When my face shows no sign of recognition, he continues. ‘My assistant.’
It takes a few more seconds for the news to land, and then I open my arms. ‘Lilli, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Sienna.’
Lilli returns my smile and hugs me back. ‘Thank you so much for being our guest of honour.’
‘You must be Luc,’ Rory turns his attention to my date. They shake hands, and then someone calls Rory’s name across the room, and he disappears, Lilli following closely behind.
‘How’s everything going with the new show?’ I ask Luc.
‘Yeah, grand, thanks,’ Luc replies. ‘Lindsay – my agent – enjoyed it and she’s sending it to a few people who she thinks will also like it. Hopefully one of them will buy it.’
‘Fingers crossed.’ I smooth my dress over my legs. ‘Obviously it goes without saying but if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.’
His eyes trace faint lines over my face and everyone around us falls away. It’s just me and him. He reaches forward and brushes a loose piece of hair which has fallen from my low ponytail behind my ear. A camera flash goes off.
Well, they’re not above that, are they?
‘Well-timed,’ I whisper but pull backwards to put some space between us and clear my throat.
He grabs my hand. Constant contact to convince everyone we’re in love.
We might as well borrow real-life experiences from ten years ago, right?
Little touches here and there, under the table, on each other’s hands, legs pressed together.
‘I need to go to the bathroom,’ I whisper.
I lock myself in a toilet stall, Dennis waiting outside, and lean against the door.
I pull my phone out of my bag, doing my usual checks of all the newspapers and social media comments.
There are photos of me and Luc at the start of the night, a goofy grin on Luc’s face while I’m laughing and trying to shield my eyes from the camera flashes.
SIENNA MARTIN MORE LOVED UP THAN EVER WITH NEW MAN LUC NICHOLLS, reads one headline.
SIENNA MARTIN LOOKS EVERY INCH IN LOVE AS SHE STEPS OUT WITH BOYFRIEND LUC NICHOLLS, says another.
The photo I posted on Instagram earlier tonight is gaining traction. The comments screaming about how they know Luc is going to be there. One says, ‘our girlie is in love and wants to scream it from the rooftops,’ while another adds, ‘coming to take the title of world’s most gorgeous couple.’
Maybe convincing everyone we’re in love is starting to work.
We walk past a server with a tray balanced on the end of her arm. Twelve champagne flutes balanced perfectly like they’re an extension of her limbs. Rory grabs me and Luc as we walk past, gesturing for us both to grab a drink from the tray.
‘I need to introduce you to someone,’ he says.
Luc and I follow Rory as he pushes through the crowds, contorting his body to fit in tiny gaps, to not inconvenience them and ask them to move.
Luc and I don’t have the same problem. When we walk towards them, they step aside, their mouths agape, trying to pretend they don’t know who I am.
They’re above saying hi, but not above gawking at me.
There’s a woman standing near the stage.
The way she stands, nodding while listening to what people are saying, tells me she must be important.
And that’s before I see the queue of people lining up to speak to her.
The smile decorating her face with her silver hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck gives her an almost ethereal quality.
She smiles at everyone she meets, listening to what they have to say and not hurrying them along.
She seems to know exactly what each person speaking to her needs to hear.
I can almost see the cogs in her brain turning as she tries to figure each person out.
The way the lady seems to care about everyone she meets… it feels like maternal instinct.
We keep following Rory until we’re standing right in front of her, a queue of people smiling at us like we’ve not committed the cardinal sin of skipping a queue in England.
‘Ada,’ Rory smiles when a space becomes available. ‘I thought you might like to meet my sister, Sienna Martin.’
‘Sienna!’ Ada opens her arms and pulls me in. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you, darling.’ She smells of lavender and Dove soap. Exactly the same as Nana. As soon as she lets me go, she hugs Luc. ‘You must be Luc. What a gorgeous couple you make.’
‘Thank you so much, Ada,’ Luc smiles, draping his arm over my shoulder and kissing my temple. My skin erupts in goosebumps, and I fold my arms across my chest. Luc is taking full advantage of our new boundaries: no kissing on the mouth, but a limited amount of affection.
‘Ada heads up Gabrielle’s – the charity we’re working with,’ Rory tells us.
‘What an important cause,’ I reply. ‘I’m thrilled to be here. Thank you for inviting me and trusting me with this.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly. I’m glad you said yes.’ Ada rubs her hand against my bare arm soothingly. ‘I felt a bit naughty asking Rory to ask you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to say no to your brother.’
‘Oh, I do. All the time,’ I point out.
‘She does,’ Rory agrees. His attention is drawn across the room. He’s still working his way through the two syllables when he’s walking away.
‘Good, now I get you all to myself,’ Ada smirks and pulls me and Luc away from the queue of people forming near her. They look disappointed but don’t protest.
‘You’re auctioning one of your guitars and a signed copy of every one of your albums?’
It’s the Sweethearts Inside at Night guitar, the deep blues, oranges and purples recognisable anywhere from that tour. The one I used for the acoustic section with I’ll Give You My Mornings and City Breath.
‘I am. Did I bring enough?’
‘Plenty! Don’t be silly.’ Her thumb traces the freckles on my arm. ‘Everything must mean so much to you.’
‘It does, but I only have so much room.’ I smile.
‘But it– I only used the guitar for two songs on tour. I was keeping it in case I wanted to do a nostalgia thing.’ I pause for a moment and look at Luc, not sure whether I should continue.
I do anyway. ‘But honestly, I could just get a new one. A replica.’
Ada laughs. ‘Quite true, dear.’
‘The guitar. I signed it. I hope that’s okay. Rory said I should.’
She laughs again. ‘Of course.’ She pauses. ‘And you’ll be performing?’
‘If you still want me too. I thought an acoustic of Sweethearts Inside at Night, maybe? To match the guitar.’
‘Ah, I would’ve said the same thing. You are so good, Sienna Martin.’ She pinches my cheeks, and I feel the colour burn. ‘You’re on Table One?’
‘I am.’
‘Great, me too. See you in a bit.’ She gestures her head to the queue of people who haven’t moved even when she did. ‘I better get to the rest.’