Chapter 40
AS SHE WALKED BACK through to the dining room, her heart was hammering. David was still in his seat, plate empty.
‘All good?’ Maggie checked, leaning over to pick it up.
‘Delicious. But might I trouble you for a glass of water?’
‘No.’
She smiled sweetly as a look of confusion rippled across his forehead. ‘Just a glass of wat—’
‘Like I said, no, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
David swallowed. ‘Pardon?’
‘I’d like you to leave the hotel.’
‘Whatever for?’ he spluttered. ‘Is there a fire?’
‘No. Because you’ve been spying on other guests.’
She watched various expressions cross the reporter’s face: confusion, surprise, annoyance and resignation before, finally, his mouth curved upwards in a malicious smile. ‘I see. Ah well, fair enough. I’ve got what I need for my story.’
‘I’m sure you have, a professional such as yourself.’
‘Gray Hudson hiding out here, in a hotel that was once famous for its service and discretion. A hotel that was once legendary and now, well …’ David leant back in his chair and swung his arm around the room, ‘it’s seen better days, hasn’t it?’
‘Please leave.’
He reached for his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. ‘Not a problem, I’ll get my bag.’
‘No need. The manager has packed for you and it’s behind the desk.’
David stood and leant so close to her that Maggie could see thin red thread veins on both of his nostrils, spreading outwards like a map. ‘You and Gray getting it on? I’ve seen the pictures.’
‘What pictures?’ she said scornfully.
He laughed. ‘We’ve had someone here for days. Got photos of you two, having ice cream together. It looked very cosy, very cosy indeed. And wouldn’t that make a good story: Hollywood actor comes to hide out in a ruined hotel and starts boffing the daughter of the original ow— Jesus Christ, get off me!’
She jumped back, confused at the blur of activity in front of her.
Gray had appeared like a bullet through the French windows and taken the reporter by the collar of his shirt.
‘Gray, don’t!’
‘I’m not going to hurt him. I’d like to, but I won’t.’
He led David towards the hallway, one fist gripping the back of his shirt; another clamped on his shoulder. ‘Come on, man, let’s wrap this up.’
David tried to spin round but could only flap his hands in the air in protest. ‘Release me right now unless you want an even bigger story in the paper this weekend. Gray Hudson loses control again, a first-hand account by the journalist he manhandled. What would people have to say about that, eh?’
Gray let go of his shirt and stood over him, glowering. ‘To which I’d say, what would your editor have to say about your threatening behaviour towards a woman?’
David’s eyes goggled at Maggie. ‘ Her? I wasn’t threatening her.’
‘Not what it looked like to me, and I have a witness.’
Jamie, who’d also snuck out to the terrace to eavesdrop with Gray, crossed his arms in the doorway of the dining room and tried to look menacing. Maggie almost laughed; beside Gray – so fierce and commanding – he made a puny sidekick.
She bent behind the desk to pick his bag up. ‘Here you go, Mr Donovan. Your stay is on the house, I do hope you enjoyed the visit.’
The reporter scoffed. ‘Hardly worth paying to stay in this dump.’ But as he stepped forward to take the bag, his face contorted and he dropped one hand to his stomach.
‘Feeling all right?’ Maggie checked.
‘Yeah, I just need to get out of this hol— Oh, Jesus,’ he groaned.
‘Come on, man. Time to go.’
When David stood upright, his face was red. ‘I’m going, I’m just … Fucking hell.’ His body clenched and he doubled over, moaning into his legs. ‘Looks like the cooking here isn’t much cop either.’
‘Get out,’ Gray growled, stepping closer to him, at which point the reporter picked up his bag and, waddling slightly, passed through the door, down the steps and across the gravel.
They watched him go, his car flying down the drive, the dust behind him hanging in the evening air.
‘Wonder what he’ll say on Tripadvisor,’ murmured Jamie.
Maggie laughed, followed by Jamie and then Gray joined in, and for a few moments, they stood, united by the absurdity of the evening.
‘Anyone for tart?’ she asked, once they’d fallen quiet again.
‘Might just have a piece of cheese,’ Jamie said, with a grin, as he draped his arm over Maggie’s shoulders. ‘Proud of you, my friend. Didn’t know you had it in you to be so nasty .’
‘Neither did I,’ she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
‘Hey guys, can I ask a question?’
Maggie and Jamie looked at Gray.
‘What’s boffing ?’
They sat out again that night, on the terrace overlooking the pool. It was clear, the moon just a fingernail, so the stars shone brighter. Or at least, Maggie and Gray sat out, because after a plate of Brie and membrillo, Jamie announced he was going to see Louis to continue his campaign of seduction.
‘Don’t stay up too late, kids.’ He winked theatrically at Maggie, who prayed that Gray hadn’t seen him.
Once Jamie had left, the only sound was the click-clicking of the cicadas; the only light from a citronella candle, flickering on the table beside an empty bottle of red wine.
Maggie looked at Gray and smiled, more self-conscious now they were alone. ‘Thanks for your help earlier.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘I hope …’
When she didn’t continue, he raised his eyebrows.
‘I hope that arsehole doesn’t write anything.’
‘Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. None of it makes much difference in the end. It’s all just … noise.’
They fell silent again and listened to the faint hum of a car driving through the valley.
‘Hey, d’ya see that?’
‘What?’
Gray jutted his chin at the sky. ‘Shooting star.’
‘Don’t say you’re a star guy.’
He looked at her across the candle. ‘A star guy?’
Maggie wrinkled her nose. ‘Not a big fan of space.’
‘Space?’ Gray replied, with a loud laugh. ‘You’re not a big fan of space ? What did space do to you, Maggie?’
‘Don’t really get it. Never have. Those guys who pay hundreds of thousands of pounds to go to space when they haven’t been to, like, Europe. Seems weird. Go to Puglia and eat a bowl of orecchiette . Got to Singapore and eat pork ribs. Go to Bognor Regis and eat fish and chips. Why would you want to pay so much to go up in a spaceship and eat powdered vegetables?’
‘We ate pretty good noodles on the spaceship in Equinox .’
‘I’m sure.’
‘What’s Bognor Regis?’
‘A town in the UK.’
They fell silent again until Gray stood, and Maggie felt a drooping sensation in her chest at the idea the evening was over. ‘You going to bed?’
‘No, ma’am, come on.’
‘Where?’
He nodded at the sunbeds. ‘I’m gonna show you space.’
‘Oh my god, that is a line , Gray Hudson. You used that before?’
‘I have not and I’m serious, it’s the perfect night. It looks different from here.’
‘What looks different?’ she asked, as they walked down the terrace steps.
‘In California, or at least in Bel Air, you can’t really see the stars,’ Gray said, lying back on one sunbed. ‘Too light. But here, OK, you see that bright one, right across from us?’
Maggie lowered herself to the bed beside his and rolled her head to the side. At the tip of his finger, she could see a star glowing harder than the others. ‘Yes.’
‘That’s Mars.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because it’s west at this time of night, and it’s always high.’
She squinted at the blackness before dropping her eyes to his body stretched out beside her, the back of his head resting on one bent arm. He was so close she could hear his breathing and see his chest moving up and down. How many women had dreamt of being in this position? How many men, come to that? And yet here she was, in a spot that would make so many others jealous, listening to Gray Hudson talk about constellations.
‘Are you concentrating?’ he asked, tipping his head sideways.
‘Yes!’
Through the gloom, his eyes softened in a smile. ‘OK, under Mars, to the right, can you see the pattern that’s shaped like a diamond?’
‘Uhhhh … no, I can see the line. That’s the one I know. That’s Orion’s belt.’
‘That’s what we call it.’
Maggie frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Before I shot Saloon I went to live on a reservation for a few weeks and there was this old guy there who taught me about the constellations according to them, and Native Americans don’t call it a belt, they see it as a canoe.’
‘What?’
‘The big canoe, they call it, and can you see beside it, the smaller line?’
Maggie shifted sideways on her sunbed to follow Gray’s finger.
‘There. D’ya see it? The small canoe?’
‘It’s a big canoe and a small canoe?’
‘Better than that, they’re racing. Can you see the fish? It’s the brightest star out front, so the small canoe is winning.’
Maggie smiled at the twinkling pattern. ‘I love that. A small canoe and a big canoe.’
‘And if we could see it, the Milky Way is a river. I could on the reservation.’
‘You learned all this for Saloon ’
‘Sure did.’
‘Did you learn to ride?’
‘Horses?’ Gray grinned.
‘What else would you be riding? Oh. OK, I asked for that.’ She wondered if he’d seen her embarrassment. Hopefully not. It felt, all at once, very easy to be lying here beside him, talking about constellations, and simultaneously electric, as if they were dancing around one another, teasing, testing, probing.
Gray held her smile for a few seconds before looking back to the sky. ‘I knew how to ride horses already. Learned for another film.’
‘You always do that much research beforehand?’
‘I try. Although if it’s in space or historical it’s a little harder.’
‘You mean if you’re making one of those films you can’t hang out with aliens or Nazis?’
Gray laughed at the sky. ‘No, if it’s aliens or Nazis I read the books. But being on the reservation was cool. I wish I could have stayed. It beat LA.’
‘You don’t like LA?’
‘You ever been?’
Maggie rotated her head from side to side.
‘Nobody likes LA. Everyone tolerates it because it’s where the industry is, it’s where we have to be. But actors don’t like it because they’re jostling with other actors, and everybody else who lives there hates it because they’re trying to be an actor. Which means it’s full of egos and wannabes. It’s full of sadness, honestly. It’s like the exact opposite of here.’
‘The opposite?’
‘The energy is different. You can tell there’ve been good times here.’
‘You mean apart from when there’s a journalist staying?’ she teased.
‘Apart from that. But yeah, it feels kinda … safe.’
‘You think?’
Gray looked over, bemused. ‘You don’t think?’
‘No, I’ve always loved it. And I always want other people to get that but I appreciate that it’s kind of harder to see that now that it’s, well, crumbling.’
‘I do. It’s rare, this place; you don’t get this solitude in many places. Certainly not at home. So I owe you thanks, too. It’s been a refuge.’
‘Anytime, handyman.’
Gray’s eyes met hers again in the dark. ‘You don’t wanna go, right?’
She sighed. ‘I did it before.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I gave up this place. Sort of. I didn’t come here for eight years, and I wasn’t sure if I would again. So … it’ll be fine.’
‘You like London?’
‘Maybe I’d like somewhere else more, but that’s where my life has always been so I don’t really know anywhere else.’ Maggie curled on to her side, uncomfortable on her back, and thought about Jamie’s question earlier, about whether she and Gray would stay in touch. ‘You visit much?’
‘London? All the time. We gonna hang out?’ He smiled at her and there it was again, an electric current behind the question.
She tried to imagine the scene: a dinner party in Battersea, various friends talking about schools and the prices in Gail’s with Gray sitting between them. ‘I mean, maybe?’
‘I’d like that,’ he replied, holding her gaze, and for the strangest moment, Maggie thought he was about to kiss her. They were so close she could see the outline of his mouth under his stubble and, silently, she willed him to do it. In that moment, there was an unspoken acknowledgement that they were about to do something they knew they shouldn’t, and Gray shifted on the sunbed, still looking at her, moving closer, before stretching his arm towards her face. Maggie blinked and waited for the sensation of his fingers curling around her jaw only for them both to flinch at the sound of a shout from the drive.
‘I’m baaa-aaack!’ came a shout, and they sat up to see Jamie walking towards them.
‘What happened?’ Maggie asked, rolling back on her bed, away from Gray.
‘He’s not on tonight.’
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘No bother,’ Jamie said happily, settling back on the bed beside her. ‘I’ll give it another go tomorrow. What have I missed?’
‘I was … just telling Gray about the last party I came to here,’ Maggie said, thinking quickly.
‘Oh, that story. Buckle up, Gray. We’re going to be here for a while. Is everyone all right for drinks?’
‘I don’t have to tell it.’
‘Yeah, you do, I wanna hear,’ Gray urged, and she twisted her head to see him give her a smile, silently reassuring her. They’d nearly done something, but not quite.
‘OK,’ she began, ‘so it was eight years ago …’
‘When we were all in much better shape,’ Jamie interjected. ‘Apart from you, Gray, because you still look like a museum statue.’
‘Thanks, man.’
‘Jamie, are you going to let me speak?’ Maggie asked.
‘Yes, sorry, you may continue.’