Chapter Five
Alex slammed the gate shut with one hand and grabbed Ellie’s elbow with the other. ‘Back inside! How did they know I was here?’
Did they follow me last night? But there’d been no sign of them when he’d checked the window first thing this morning.
Brown eyes shining with tears and horror stared back at him. ‘Honestly, I have no idea!’
He squeezed her arm gently. ‘I know.’
‘Alex? Who is she? Are you over Savannah?’ shouted a voice from above. The cockroaches had scaled the wall and were leaning over it precariously, trying to take more photos.
‘This is private property!’ Ellie shouted back, the shock obviously giving way to anger as she began to rattle the gate, causing the paparazzi to wobble.
‘I’ll call the police! Get off my bloody wall!
’ Her eyes were spitting deadly fire and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d thrown her slippers at them.
He tugged her away and she stumbled after him, the soft fluffiness of her dressing gown brushing against his arms and chest. His lips twitched with amusement as he bundled her back inside. Her outrage on his behalf was kind of flattering.
With a bang, he shut the door, relieved that there was only one tiny window in the dim corridor and that the glass was warped to provide privacy.
A firm barrier between them and the outside world.
The Victorian brick smothered the shouts of the paparazzi, until he could almost believe they were alone.
Their breathing was heavy from the run and the panic.
Ellie clutched the collar of her fluffy dressing gown closed, her face flushed and her hair tumbling around her in messy waves, a few pink petals still tangled in her hair from last night.
The sweet, heady scent of Ellie and precocious blossom clung to her skin.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, reassure her that everything would be all right, but he knew that would be a lie.
Once the media had a story they were like a dog with a bone. He needed to speak with Richie – he’d know how to handle it. ‘It’s best not to engage, that’s what they want,’ he said.
Dismay filled her eyes, and she glanced fearfully at the window. ‘Is this what it’s like? People chasing you, shouting personal questions at you?’
‘Sometimes.’
Her expression softened with sympathy. ‘It must be horrible. Almost makes me glad I’m a boring old nurse.’
‘It’s not always like this. Most of the time I’m not even recognised. It’s because of Liam and Savannah. They’re the big stars, and I’m just the villain. I guess the love triangle makes for a juicy story, and they’re trying to get a rise out of me, that’s all. They’ll get bored eventually.’
‘That’s awful.’
He sighed, because it was awful – and he’d dragged Ellie into his mess.
Being with her had almost made him forget the bitter truth: that he didn’t belong anywhere, not even with his own family.
For years he’d been playing a part, and now that everything had gone to shit he wasn’t sure who he was any more.
‘What’s going on?’ called Ellie’s mother as she and her nanna came hurrying down the stairs.
Mark opened the door beside them. It looked as if he hadn’t opened the shop yet – which was a good thing, as Alex was sure the photographers would try the front next.
He couldn’t hide inside for ever – they had a business to run.
Guilt gnawed at his insides. None of them deserved any of this. He should have left as soon as he’d woken up, but he’d wanted to see Ellie. Hadn’t wanted their time together to come to an end. Now, his selfishness was costing a whole family their privacy.
‘There are photographers outside the front too,’ said Mark, giving a fearful glance at the half-raised metal shutters and the moving shadows beyond.
Ellie’s brow furrowed. ‘I don’t understand how they knew you were here. Unless they followed us? But there wasn’t anyone around when we got home last night… Was there?’ He shook his head and her frown deepened in thought. ‘Unless someone tipped them off?’
‘Don’t look at me!’ cried Mark.
Everyone looked at him.
Alex took pity on Mark and retrieved his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll call my agent. He can get a car out to me in no time. What’s your address?’
‘Why don’t we call Martin instead?’ asked Ellie’s nanna. ‘I’m sure he could help us out. He could even help create a diversion.’
Ellie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes! He only lives around the corner and he drives a black cab. I’m sure he could get a friend of his to help as well.
If we have one cab pull up out the front first, that’ll distract them while you get into another out the back.
Maybe Mark could go out with a hoodie and sunglasses on – he’s almost the same height as you. ’
‘Yeah, I can do that. Happy to help.’ Mark shrugged sheepishly.
Alex looked around at their eager faces and tucked his phone away. They were so desperate to help, he didn’t want to disappoint them. ‘Sure, let’s do this.’
It all went according to plan, which was a miracle in itself.
Martin was happy to help. He called a buddy of his, and one black cab rolled up out front, followed by another two minutes later down the back alley.
The photographers had all swarmed to the front of the building as planned, not realising there was a second cab arriving.
Mark distracted the crowd further by walking out front in a pulled-up hoodie and shades, while Ellie’s nanna opened the shop.
It all happened so fast that in no time Alex was waving goodbye to Ellie through the back window as his black cab sped off down a side street.
‘Thanks for doing this,’ he said to the driver, a bald man in his late fifties.
‘No worries, mate, anything for Ellie. She’s been my girl’s best friend since they were kids – been through thick and thin together. She’s a good girl.’
‘Yeah, she’s awesome,’ Alex agreed, relaxing into the leather seat.
He only hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her.
Ellie had agreed the previous night to come to the awards with him, but she’d seemed reluctant when he’d mentioned it this morning.
Understandable really, considering she barely knew him, and she’d now experienced the chaos of his life first hand.
Should he leave her be? Forget taking her to the Olivier Awards and let her live her life?
Why had he even asked her in the first place?
He thought of how his blood heated every time he was near her, the tempting curves of her body and the playful gleam in her eye.
And then he thought of how Ellie had been the first person to form any sort of connection with him in months, possibly even years, and how the weight of his loneliness lifted in her company.
But hadn’t he moved around enough as a kid to realise that no relationships were ever permanent?
Especially under the glare of public scrutiny.
He should focus on finding his feet, rebuilding his life, not dragging someone else into his mess.
Besides, he was asking too much of her, and she was vulnerable after losing her friend.
‘Is your daughter called Hannah?’ Alex asked curiously.
‘Yes, that’s her. Had to drop her off at Heathrow very early this morning. Not ashamed to say it, we shed a fair few tears saying goodbye to her. Me and the wife are going to miss her like mad. Yer lucky the traffic was good and I was back in time to help ya.’
‘I’m sorry, you must be exhausted.’
‘Nah, yer all right,’ said Martin with a shake of his shiny head. ‘Happy to help. Sometimes it’s best to keep busy – a welcome distraction, honestly. I’ll be worried sick until I know she’s landed safe.’
Alex settled down and listened to Martin chat about his family and the unseasonably warm weather they’d been having, while they wound through the grey London streets. But his mind kept returning to Martin’s earlier words: a welcome distraction.
Had he been wrong to hide away and avoid the press? Wouldn’t it be better to give them something – positive – to focus on? A welcome distraction?
But what could possibly distract the paparazzi from Liam and Savannah’s wedding and turn the tide of bad feeling towards him?
Fame was a double-edged sword. He hated it, but he also knew he would have no work without it.
Even this theatre-directing gig would have been impossible without his connections and celebrity status.
Which again raised the question: who would he be if he wasn’t part of the King family legacy?
‘Here you are,’ said Martin, bringing him back down to earth, as they pulled up outside his hotel.
‘Ah, thanks man,’ Alex said, getting out his wallet.
‘No need.’
They had a good-natured battle for payment for a few moments. Eventually Martin accepted the notes Alex thrust at him, and gave him his number in case Alex got stuck without a driver again.
Alex’s phone began to ring as he entered his suite. A quick glance at the caller ID showed that it was the theatre’s executive director.
‘Hi, Russell, what’s up?’ he said, with a brightness he didn’t feel as he lowered himself into a nearby armchair in his lounge. Absently, he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
‘Good morning, Alex, how was the party, I hear it was a late one? Hope you’re feeling well enough to attend the matinee.’ Russell’s voice was crisp and polished, as if he’d had elocution lessons from the King of England.
Shit, had he heard about last night already?
Alex couldn’t remember talking to anyone much except for Ellie, but his memory was like Swiss cheese.
‘Of course,’ he answered, part of him bristling at the implied censure.
Who was Russell to question his lifestyle?
Except he was, in fact, his boss. He wasn’t in LA now, he couldn’t just expect people to bow and scrape around him.
‘I’ll be in by twelve, plenty of time for the matinee,’ he said, keeping his voice light and relaxed.
Russell chuckled good-naturedly. Thankfully, he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge – just quietly point out his disapproval.
‘Good, good. I wasn’t sure, you see, when you didn’t come in at your usual time.
But always nice to celebrate opening night.
Let off a little steam and all that. Then straight back to work, hey?
Focus on the run and keeping up those five-star reviews.
I said as much to the cast and crew this morning. ’
Alex’s stomach twisted with guilt, but he’d never agreed to come in at the same time during the run as he had during rehearsals. ‘Well, best get going, I’ll see you soon anyway…’ He waited expectantly for Russell to agree and end the call. Unfortunately, he didn’t.
Russell cleared his throat dramatically – definitely a Royal Shakespeare Company-approved cough. ‘Ah-hum… Just a couple of things while I’ve got you.’
Alex crossed his fingers and prayed that Russell wasn’t going to shorten the play’s run any further. ‘Yeah?’
‘I know you don’t want any fuss with marketing and promotion. But… we could really do with some publicity to promote the play.’
Alex gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. But he tried his best to remain in character as Alex the relaxed and always-in-control director. ‘I’m sorry, man, but Richie’s contract is quite clear. You can use my name, but all interviews must be with the actors only.’
Russell’s reply was professional and direct. ‘Indeed, and I commend your artistic integrity and strict privacy rules, of course I do.’ He took a breath. ‘That being said…’
Here we go.
Russell cleared his throat again, and Alex had the uneasy feeling his character had slipped for just a moment, and maybe, just maybe, he’d inadvertently muttered those internal words out loud. He cringed.
‘That being said,’ Russell continued, more sharply this time.
‘This is a theatre, and we need to promote our plays to sell tickets. Especially as it’s only a short run.
Now, it’s a great play – wonderful, even – but how will people know that unless they hear about it?
And how will they hear about it if the biggest name behind it refuses all interviews with the press? ’
Alex opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of an appropriate response.
It was true, he’d insisted on cast approval in his contract, and had chosen relatively unknown actors to star in his play.
He’d wanted to help launch careers – but had that been a mistake? Theatre audiences loved big names.
‘I have a reporter from the Arts Review keen to interview within the next day or two,’ said Russell firmly.
‘They’re not tabloid, they’re aimed at our core audience.
So, their questions will be focused purely on the play.
It’s up to you – this is a fabulous production, but it needs exposure, and who better to do that than its director, hmmm? ’
Russell had a point. Alex took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. ‘My contract was clear. But I will think about it, and I’m sure we can work something out.’
‘Good, good. Glad to hear you’re considering the needs of the production first. The cast is full of bright fresh talent, and their careers could rise or fall because of this.’ Russell’s tone had hardened by the end of his speech, and he left Alex hanging in the silence.
‘I understand.’
The good-natured boss returned with a cheerful, ‘Good, good! Glad we understand each other. Cheerio,’ before he promptly ended the call with a hard click.
Alex’s aching head dropped back against his armchair. He had the uneasy feeling he’d just said yes to the interview without actually saying yes.