Chapter Four
‘Who’s the stray sleeping in the lounge?’ Mark walked into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast table with a thud.
Ellie winced as her mum’s head snapped up from her entertainment rag like a bloodhound catching a scent. Her nanna shifted closer to Mark and whispered with barely contained excitement, ‘It’s not Hannah?’
‘She’d have missed her flight if it was,’ her brother said.
Her mum and nanna exchanged shocked looks, and then stared at Ellie expectantly.
It was too early for this.
The soft light from the kitchen balcony was far too bright. Her head was pounding and her mouth was as dry as the Sahara. She could hear a siren in the distance. Hackney was already abuzz with activity. Hangovers were definitely worse after you turned thirty.
She’d hoped to get away with Alex staying over – her family never sat in the lounge on a Saturday morning, as it was their busiest day and they were always up and out early, either to open the shop or to run their errands.
‘A friend,’ she mumbled, not daring to look at them as she prepared tea and toast in her pink dressing gown and fluffy bunny slippers. She’d wanted to grab a tea and slink back to shower and dress before checking on Alex.
‘He looks familiar,’ said Mark.
‘He?’ gasped her astonished mum, and Nanna clutched the waxed tablecloth.
Ellie’s teeth clenched. ‘You won’t know him. Is he up?’ She’d half expected him to have been gone already.
‘Sleeping like a baby. A big one.’
The mugs clattered together in the cupboard as she tried to prise her favourite one from the pile. She winced at the horrible sound they made. Every day was like playing Jenga with the crockery, especially now all her stuff was mixed up with her family’s.
‘Is he one of Hannah’s friends?’ asked Mark, still puzzling over the conundrum of his sister managing to bring a man home with her.
‘No,’ she snapped. Why the sudden interest? Mark usually didn’t give a toss about her personal life. ‘As I said, you won’t know him.’
‘Then how do you know him?’
‘I met him last night.’
Her family stared at her in shock.
‘Jesus, Ellie! You can’t just bring a random man back to our house. You’re not Mum.’
‘Excuse me,’ growled her mum, and Nanna cackled.
‘What if he’d robbed us?’ Mark glared at her as he began tearing open the post, only to discard the contents in a scrunched-up pile.
Her mother seemed alarmed by the prospect, while Nanna’s lips twitched with amusement as she sipped her tea. ‘Good luck finding anything worth pinching.’
‘Nanna’s right, and believe me he’s got no reason to rob us.’ Ellie turned away with a roll of her eyes. Unfortunately, the swift movement only made her stomach roll, and she had to take a steadying breath.
‘How do you know, you only met him last night.’
Her patience broken, she turned on Mark like a provoked animal. ‘Because he’s Alex King, for fuck’s sake!’
‘Language,’ Nanna reminded her firmly.
‘Sorry,’ Ellie mumbled, before scowling at her brother with full force. ‘He’s Alex King, the movie star. What would he want to steal from us? Flowers? Gift bags? Maybe our excess supply of novelty tea towels?’ She pointed at an offensive example by the sink that depicted the royal family as corgis.
For the second time that morning, Ellie enjoyed the stunned faces of her family. Or she would have, if it hadn’t led to even more questions.
‘Alex who?’ asked Nanna, apparently baffled.
‘Oh my God!’ gasped her mum, quickly making the sign of the cross. She leaned forward, her voice a whisper. ‘Really? Alex King?’
‘Yes,’ Ellie huffed, finally managing to tease out her favourite mug, shaped to be a black cat’s head. She held it close to her chest for a moment as if it were a security blanket.
‘Really?’ cried her mum, making Ellie question the wisdom of her revelation for the hundredth time. But she supposed this was better than Mark calling the police.
‘Yes, really. Now, be quiet before he hears you.’
‘Morning, everyone,’ came a sexy voice from the doorway, and Ellie died a little inside.
She spun to face him, still clutching her favourite mug to her chest.
Alex looked… glorious. His hair was mussed, his clothes rumpled, but he still looked as if he’d fallen out of a magazine shoot.
‘Hi,’ she squeaked. Why the hell was she nervous?
Perhaps, Ellie, because you agreed to go on a date to an awards show with a Hollywood star last night?
She shook her head. He’d probably forgotten all about his drunken invitation, or more likely she’d imagined that part of the night; the drinking game had been a bad choice.
‘Hiya, my name’s Angela,’ her mum said, and Ellie frowned at the breathy softness of her voice.
Oh God, she wasn’t going to chat him up, was she?
‘Hello.’ Nanna grinned and offered a little wave, enjoying this far more than was seemly for a woman in her eighties.
‘All right, mate?’ said Mark, with a gruff cough.
‘I’m good, thanks,’ replied Alex, oblivious to the fact it was a greeting and not a question. ‘And you?’
‘Yeah… erm… All right.’ Mark grabbed a slice of toast from Mum’s plate and made his way out. ‘Best get opening the shop. Nice to meet you, Alex.’
Nanna patted the vacant chair beside her as Mark left.
‘Alex, come and sit down, love. After a night out with our Ellie, I’m thinking you could do with some tea and toast.’ She appeared so innocent in her rollers and flannel.
Ellie was immediately suspicious but, at Nanna’s pointed look, she quickly got to work making some breakfast for Alex.
Lack of hospitality was a crime against nature in her nanna’s book.
‘You guys are all up early on a Saturday,’ remarked Alex with a faint blush, sweeping back his hair with a brush of his hand that made her stomach flutter.
‘Mum, Nanna and Mark run the flower shop together. They’re all early risers.’
‘Ah yeah, it looks awesome, I caught a peek last night. Ellie tells me it’s been in your family for several generations, that’s amazing.’
Nanna’s face lit up like a winning slot machine. Alex couldn’t have said anything better to get her on his side. ‘We’re very proud of it, thank you. It’s been in my family since before the First World War, and before that we had a flower stall…’
Ellie watched Alex over the mug’s pointy cat ears while Nanna told him all about the history of their shop. He listened with genuine interest, asking questions and chuckling appropriately at all of Nanna’s silly stories.
After their breakfast was finished, Alex turned and gave her a bright smile that almost burned out her retinas. ‘Thanks so much for letting me stay, but I need to make a move. I’ve got another show this afternoon.’
‘Of course.’ Ellie hustled to a stand, her chair scraping loudly on the tiles. ‘I’ll show you out. Mark’s opening the shop, so we’d better go out the back.’
‘It was nice meeting you both,’ he said to her mum and nanna, who beamed dumbly back at him as he stood up to leave.
They made their way downstairs, passing the family photos, including the God-awful school portraits of herself and Mark, her weight yo-yoing so much that they must look like a series of before-and-after pics.
‘You have a lovely home,’ he said.
‘Thanks. Some people find it a bit weird what with the layout. Topsy-turvy.’
The shop and storage room took up the entire ground floor, while on the second floor were three bedrooms and a snug-lounge, and their kitchen-diner, bathroom and Ellie’s box room sat on the top floor in what used to be the attic.
‘It’s cool,’ said Alex, and she beamed with pride, even as they picked their way through the piles of boxes and clutter to reach the back door.
The yard backed onto an access road followed by more Victorian terraced houses. Their house was in a tiny patch of East London that had been largely unaffected by the Blitz, demolition of the slums, and any other form of modernisation.
Like my family, she mused as they passed the black-and-white photograph of her nanna as a little girl sat on the front step of their shop, the same sparkling eyes and cheeky grin plastered on a much younger face.
Their history was stamped in the worn-out cobbles and graffiti sprayed buildings of the East End.
Dirty, beautiful and timeless.
Home.
A way of life preserved through the changing years.
They could have sold up and moved out to the suburbs at any time over the years, as many families had, and they would have made a good amount of money doing it too.
But they never had. It would have felt wrong, like selling a member of their family.
This corner of London was all they had ever known or wanted.
Even when Ellie had wanted to buy her own place, she’d not looked further than a short walk away – it was one of the many reasons why she was thirty and still saving to buy her own flat.
As much as her family drove her mad, they were hers, and they lived here in the heart of the East End.
She couldn’t leave, but she couldn’t stay either.
She began fumbling with the huge pile of keys they kept in the lockbox.
‘You must think me an idiot, forgetting where I’m staying.’ Alex’s deep voice was so close to her neck that it sent shivers of longing down her spine.
‘Did you remember it this morning?’ she teased, and laughed at the sheepish cringe he made. He’d not remembered much last night, like the name of his hotel or his driver, and Richie had left early. Probably because, whenever he’d looked their way, they’d downed a glass of fizz.
‘No, but I remembered how to check my booking information on my cell.’
Ellie continued to look for the right key, more aware of the tight space and Alex’s big body with every passing second. She had no idea what half of them were used for, and suspected most were for locks they no longer had. ‘That’s good. Although I think Nanna would adopt you given half a chance.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ he said, a layer of sadness sitting beneath his humour.
She looked up with a twinge of concern. ‘It’ll be okay, you know.’
‘Thanks for saying that.’ He swept a hand through his hair, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘Can I have your number? You promised to come with me to the Olivier Awards, remember?’
Her stomach dropped to her bunny-eared feet. ‘Do you still mean that? I mean… we both had a lot to drink…’
‘The offer stands – if you want to, I’d be grateful. I don’t have any friends this side of the pond.’
Her heart expanded and contracted painfully with a mixture of excitement and hope that made her uncomfortable. He wants a friend! she reminded herself sternly.
Concentrating on finding the key, she shrugged lightly.
‘Sure.’ But she doubted it would really happen.
It was a drunken promise. If he found someone better, she was sure the invitation would be quickly rescinded.
She’d been here before, making arrangements for dates that would never happen.
She swore men liked to suggest another date just to avoid an awkward goodbye.
Frankly, she wished the cowards were just honest from the start.
She was sick of false promises – she’d had enough of them with David to last her a lifetime.
All the flowers and gifts, the sweet words and promises – all made in private, of course.
Had David meant any of it? Or had he simply been lonely?
Desperate for someone to shower with love, and like a fool she’d taken all of the lies he’d fed her, because she was desperate to love and be loved in return?
Never again.
‘Ah-hah!’ Grateful to have finally found the right key, she unlocked the back door, and then turned to face him. ‘I gave my number to you last night, remember? When we were promising to be best friends for ever. I’m under, Ellie BFF.’ Good old Ellie, always the reliable friend.
Alex blushed, a sweet rush of pink painting his gloriously high cheekbones. ‘Of course. Best friends for ever.’
Why did that make her feel so sad? Maybe because she’d already had a best friend and she was currently flying thousands of miles away from her. Alex would do the same, sooner or later.
‘The lock on the gate is a bit dodgy.’ She walked out into the yard, her ridiculous slippers slapping against the flagstones as she moved.
As usual, the latch stuck and the rusty bolt refused to budge. She wiggled it from side to side and then pulled at the same time as she threw the bolt. ‘There,’ she said triumphantly, throwing open the gate.
A flashing light and a shouted, ‘Alex!’ blinded her as she froze in mortification, like an actual rabbit caught in the headlights. A horde of photographers stood in front of her, and with a leap forward they all shoved their cameras in her face.