Chapter 44
Hunter
There’s something nice about traveling alone. At least, that’s what I used to think.
From the moment I leave Max, my mind is taken up by how much I miss him.
It’s not just a feeling. It’s a weight in my chest. The plane feels smaller, the cabin air heavier.
The thought that we might separate permanently feels unreal.
But I need to get used to the idea. I’ve survived on my own for years. I can survive this.
I try to find a movie to distract myself.
Mamma Mia is too painful. I settle on a selection of the most mindless romcoms known to man.
You’d think it would be the last thing I’d want to see, but there’s something comforting about watching a film where you know what the ending is going to be.
No matter what third act complications they throw at the characters, true love will find a way.
I’m happy for them. It’s just a shame they are bound by the laws of genre, and I’m in real life. There are no guarantees for me.
It’s only as we begin our approach to London that I allow myself a bit of excitement. Max is right – this meeting with the Globe has to be good news. They wouldn’t fly me back urgently if it wasn’t. This is the kind of thing every actor dreams of.
When we land, I turn on my phone and get a message from Max.
The words hit me in the gut.
He got the job.
I’m overcome by a crushing wave of sadness. I knew I would have mixed feelings, but this is beyond that. It’s not even a selfish thought.
I’m sad for Max.
It’s all there in what’s unsaid in his message, right down to the lack of exclamation point. There’s no way he’s enjoying this. He must be wracked with guilt. Confusion. Fear.
But I’m sad for me too. Sad doesn’t begin to cover it. This result isn’t an accident. It’s precisely what we wished for when we set out on this adventure. When I backed Max for this job, I really meant it. That unconditional support for each other has been the bedrock of this relationship.
And now we’re facing the consequences.
I don’t know what to reply. Congratulations feels like a sick joke. But I want Max to know how proud I am of him. I want to find some way to reassure him. I’m still trying to figure out how to phrase it as I pass through customs.
I glance at the officer on duty. He turns to his colleague and mutters something. The colleague nods. The first man steps forward.
‘Hunter Moretti?’
‘Er, yes.’
All the air leaves my lungs. A cold wave of panic runs through me.
‘Heathrow Border Control. You are under arrest.’
My whole body goes numb. I knew this would happen one day.
What did I tell Max? My worst fear has come true.
The man makes me wait in a corridor for several minutes, then leads me to an interrogation room.
For some reason that I’m convinced is deliberate, the room is boiling hot.
The air is stifling, almost poisonous. Sweat drips down my back, soaking my shirt. Every nerve in me is raw.
My interrogators are waiting for me. There’s a woman with a broad London accent, tall and chillingly friendly.
Accompanying her is a younger guy, Scottish and really quite handsome if I was in a state to appreciate that kind of thing.
They tell me their names, but I immediately forget them. We’re kind of beyond that.
‘Now,’ says the woman, ‘I’m sure you’re aware that your application for a spousal visa was under assessment.’
I don’t say anything. Didn’t we wrap this up with Janet and Malcolm?
‘Following your recent home visit,’ the woman continues, ‘your landlady was asked to provide a copy of your partner’s tenancy agreement.
Thankfully, she had recently digitised her filing system, which resulted in her handing over all documents bearing your partner’s name.
They included a transcript of this voicemail. ’
She pushes a sheet of paper in front of me. My heart is racing, but I refuse to look at it. This can’t be real.
The woman reads from it. ‘Eleventh of June, 2.01 p.m. A civil servant by the name of Max Ashford calls your agent and tells her he’s looking to hire a fake boyfriend.’
I feel sick. The records that Max’s own dad digitised. We brought this on ourselves.
I hold the officer’s gaze. ‘I want to speak to a lawyer.’
‘It won’t make any difference, son. We know what you did. It’s all here in black and white.’
I know better than to confirm, but denial feels useless. I broke the law. They’ve got the evidence in front of them.
I refuse to blink. ‘I’m not saying anything until a lawyer gets here.’
The woman shares a look with her junior. I imagine there’s a fair number of people who attempt to push this line and quickly break down, but they appear to have concluded that I’m not one of them. The woman shuffles her papers.
‘Let’s end it there then.’
What does that mean? Am I about to be thrown into a cell?
‘What about Max?’ I can’t help asking.
‘What about him?’
‘Can I speak to him?’
‘You’ll be entitled to a phone call at some point.’
‘Will he not be arrested?’
The woman looks at me as if I’m stupid. ‘Not up to me, son. But I doubt they’ll be seeking a custodial sentence. You’re the one who breached the terms of your visa.’
I feel a rush of hope. ‘Wait, so . . . will he be allowed to see me?’
The woman gives me a sickening smile. ‘Well, son, that depends on how quickly you’re deported.’