Chapter 10
The car arrived to pick them up at ten. Roger, Nicholas’ bodyguard, arrived in it. As much as Freya liked raising money for charity, she absolutely hated the meet and greets. Meeting the people was fine; she loved talking. But being photographed from every conceivable angle and being asked endless questions by journalists was her idea of hell. Even though she had endured months of it already, she still didn’t seem to get any better at it. She slightly envied Nicholas’ relaxed demeanour in dealing with it all. He was excellent at being amiable to anybody and everybody.
Another reason Freya disliked public functions was the fact she felt she had to consider carefully what she wore. Too formal and she would be thought of as too business-like, too casual and she would be seen as not serious enough. It was a nightmare. Usually, she didn’t care what people thought, but the charity work was important to her. Today, she had opted for a smart, grey trouser suit and a black shirt.
‘Hi, Roger,’ Freya greeted, hurrying down the steps to embrace him.
‘Hey, Freya. How you doing?’ He hugged her.
‘I’m good. Really good.’ She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.
‘I know that look; you have something going on.’
‘We might have. Nick, Roger thinks we have something going on. Do you want to tell him or shall I?’ Freya called as Nicholas appeared at the front door. He was looking every inch the Hollywood heartthrob in a charcoal-grey suit.
‘We’ve set a date for the wedding, Roger. December twenty-second.’ Nicholas took Freya’s hand in his.
‘Well, that is fantastic news. Congratulations, man,’ Roger said. He held his hand out to his boss.
‘Thanks, Roger.’
‘And it goes without saying we would really love you and Dionne to be there. In fact, Roger, I kind of need you to do something else as well,’ Freya spoke in serious tones.
‘I’ll wait in the car,’ Nicholas said. He winked at Freya and opened the door.
‘You want me to organise the security?’ Roger asked.
‘No, God no! I’m hoping we can do this quietly and without the need for anything like that. No, I was rather hoping you might give me away.’
‘My, I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t know what to say.’ Freya watched him fiddle with the collar of his shirt.
‘Well, you know my history with my father, and my mother for that matter. And you know, since we share the same admiration of Bruce Willis, I thought it was a good enough reason to ask you,’ Freya continued.
‘Freya, I would be truly honoured to give you away.’
‘You would?! Well that’s great!’ She threw her arms around him and hugged him close. They’d formed a bond from the moment they’d met and he was the closest thing she had to a father figure.
‘Any idea on location yet?’ he asked.
‘I have a few ideas and I’m not telling you any of them. Because I know if I tell you, you’ll be mentally working out where all the exits are.’
‘You know me way too well.’
Half an hour later, the car pulled up outside Carlton General Hospital and Freya could see the whole state’s photographers and journalists were outside waiting to take photographs and ask questions.
‘I really, really hate this,’ Freya remarked to Nicholas as they prepared to get out of the car.
‘I know you do and you know I would rather go in through the back door. But it’s publicity the charity needs to ensure its future,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes I know, I know. I just would rather come here at the dead of night and speak to people privately, not pose for the papers.’
She also had the beginnings of a spot on her nose and although she’d concealed, those lenses were unforgiving.
‘It’ll be fine and remember, there’s a meal waiting for us after we’ve done the posing and the smiling and all the publicity shots.’
‘I know, that thought will see me through. OK, let’s go.’
They got out of the car and the photography began at once. There were whirrs and clicks coming from all directions and Freya gritted her teeth and smiled, holding on tight to Nicholas’ hand.
‘Freya, Nick, over here!’
‘Freya, Nick, how does it feel to know that the people of Carlton and the surrounding towns will benefit from advanced cancer screening thanks to your donations?’ another journalist yelled in their direction.
‘Both Freya and I are delighted that we’ve been able to obtain this equipment for Carlton General and we hope it will end up saving many lives,’ Nicholas answered.
‘Freya, may I be the first to offer my congratulations on setting the wedding date.’
The voice calling out from behind them had Freya spinning round to see who was speaking. There she was: Sandra McNeill from Shooting Stars magazine. They had met on more than one occasion, the first being when Freya met Nicholas in Corfu.
‘Sorry, Sandra, what did you say?’ Freya asked.
‘December twenty-second, the date for your wedding. Will you be going back to England or having a ceremony in Hollywood?’ Sandra continued, her recorder held out.
‘Nick, are you hearing this?’ Freya asked him, pulling on his hand.
‘Sandra, I’m afraid you’ve yet again found yourself an unreliable source. Freya and I haven’t set a date for our wedding yet, but when we do, you will be the first to know.’
Nicholas directed Freya away from Sandra McNeill and towards the entrance of the hospital where the board members were waiting to meet them.
‘She knew the date of our wedding. We’ve told three people and she knew. How?’ Freya wanted to know.
‘You know what it’s like. News like that just has a habit of getting out. We have a team of photographers permanently at our front gate. Maybe they overheard you talking to Roger,’ Nicholas suggested.
‘Our gate is nearly one hundred yards from our front door, Nick. They couldn’t have overheard,’ Freya whispered.
‘Hey, calm down, it isn’t the end of the world. It was going to get out sooner or later; it’s the nature of the beast. Don’t let it get to you; you know what reporters are like. They could probably track down your “Wild Wednesday” pants if they put their minds to it.’ He smiled and squeezed her hand.
‘Do you think our house is bugged?’ Freya asked.
‘Now you’re being ridiculous and you really have to cut down the amount of crime dramas you watch,’ he responded with a laugh.
‘I don’t like people knowing things like that when we’ve only just decided it ourselves.’
It wasn’t just irritating; it was unnerving. She didn’t want to think anyone she’d told about the wedding date would divulge the information to someone like Sandra McNeill.
‘Listen, don’t let it spoil how we feel about setting the date. People are bound to be interested, but at the end of the day, it’s our private event. So they can talk about it all they like, but they won’t be getting invitations.’
Freya nodded but Sandra McNeill’s comment had unsettled her. She was just getting used to the idea herself; the last thing she wanted was to have the moment ruined.
It was still playing on Freya’s mind when they were being given a tour of one of the cancer wards by Bill Stanton, the chairman of the hospital.
‘Nick, Freya, this is Katherine. She hasn’t been able to stop talking about you coming to visit since we told her about it,’ Bill Stanton introduced as they stopped walking and stood at the foot of one of the beds.
A pale, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl of approximately eight years old lay in the bed they had halted at. She looked pale and frail and was attached to a drip.
‘Hi, Katherine,’ Nicholas greeted. He went closer to her and sat on the edge of her bed.
‘Hi… You are my favourite actor. I think you’re cool,’ Katherine spoke quietly. She attempted to sit herself up.
‘Well, thank you very much. Katherine, this is Freya, my fiancée,’ he introduced. He motioned Freya to come nearer to the bed.
‘Hi, Katherine, it’s very nice to meet you. Do you know, he’s my favourite actor too,’ Freya said, smiling.
‘Freya! How can you lie to Katherine like that? Freya’s favourite actor is Bruce Willis.’
‘I like him too. What’s a fiancée?’ Katherine questioned.
‘Well, being someone’s fiancée means you’re going to get married to that person one day. Freya and I are going to get married,’ he told the girl.
‘Wow! Are you going to have a big white dress and bridesmaids and a fancy cake?’ Katherine asked. At the mention of a wedding, she had perked up and was overflowing with excitement.
‘Well, I’m not quite sure yet, maybe. Is that what you’d like when you get married one day?’ Freya asked her.
‘If I was getting married, I’d have five bridesmaids. My mom, my sister, Karen and my friends Anne, Britney and Erica. And I would make my daddy wear a real smart suit so he would look nice when he took me to the church,’ Katherine explained, a faraway look in her eyes.
‘That sounds like a perfect wedding day to me,’ Freya said.
‘Is your daddy going to wear a smart suit to your wedding?’ Katherine asked, looking directly at Freya with her huge, brown eyes.
‘My daddy,’ Freya repeated the words. Her pulse quickened and she had to take a breath.
‘Um, Katherine, Freya’s father can’t come to our wedding, but we are going to make sure all of our friends are there to help us make it a special day,’ Nicholas interjected quickly.
‘Why can’t your daddy come?’ Katherine continued. Her sorrowful eyes seemed to be getting larger and more questioning by the second.
‘Well, because…’ Nicholas began.
‘Because he died,’ Freya interrupted.
‘Oh,’ Katherine replied. She seemed satisfied with the answer.
‘Say, that nice man over there is going to take our photo,’ Nicholas said, indicating the photographer hired for the publicity shots.
Freya got up and left Nicholas and Katherine. She went across the ward to Bill Stanton, who was talking to one of the nurses on duty.
‘Hey, Bill, tell me. What are Katherine’s chances of recovery?’ She watched Nicholas with Katherine. He had his arms around her, hugging her close.
‘She has acute myeloid leukaemia. She’s already had a bone marrow transplant and extensive chemotherapy.’
‘She’s going to die?’ Bill’s tone had been clear but Freya couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it.
‘Yes,’ he responded.
‘But she’s only a kid.’ This was so unfair. ‘How long?’
‘It’s likely to be weeks rather than months,’ Bill answered.
She felt sick. She had had countless similar moments at hospitals all over the state, but she still wasn’t immune to the shock when the reality of the situation hit home. There she was, concerned about people knowing her wedding date, when there was an eight-year-old child losing her fight for life and talking enthusiastically about a wedding she would never grow up to have.
Freya’s eyes glazed over with tears as Nicholas came back to rejoin her.
‘You OK?’ he asked. He put his arm around her, held her close.
‘She only has weeks to live. Weeks, Nick,’ Freya stated. She felt hopeless and helpless.
‘I know.’
‘But it’s horrible and unfair and God, I don’t think I can stomach a lunch after this. I think I want to go home and cry.’
‘Hey, come on, put on a brave face for Katherine and all the other people here. Maybe there’s nothing we can do to save her, but there are hundreds of people we are helping by providing this equipment,’ he reminded her.
‘Nick, when I complain about stuff, I don’t know, like if the post is late or Sadie Fox has cancelled me or someone’s pissed me off driving like an idiot on the motorway. Will you tell me how lucky I am and remind me of this moment?’
‘Sure, you bet.’ He squeezed her hand and kissed her on the cheek.