Page 59 of Rewrite the Stars
‘If I were his fiancée I wouldn’t think it so nice!’ she says, grabbing a slice of toast before the toast rack even gets to the table. ‘It was a bit personal, wasn’t it? The newspapers are all over it today.’
I cough. I almost choke. I quickly take a drink of orange juice to try and disguise my shock at what Sophie just said. Thenewspapers? Jack sits down at the table, lifts his knife and fork and tucks in, while I almost have a heart attack beside him.
‘What – what do you mean, the newspapers?’ I ask Sophie.
‘Entertainment news, online and in the usual papers in the shops,’ she says. ‘They’re really going to town that a big megastar like Tom Farley had his heart broken by an ordinary Dublin girl and wrote a song for her. They say the song has hit the number one spot overnight.’
Jesus.
‘I suppose they’re just making a story of it, trying to find out who she is, but it’s great publicity for the band, and the song,’ she says. ‘Makes me think it was a set-up for that reason. The poor girl is probably just a normal woman on the school run this morning who doesn’t want or need the attention. Can you imagine? I’d die!’
My stomach is going round like a washing machine and I don’t know how on earth I’m going to manage to eat the lovely breakfast before me. Jack glances at my face and then at my plate.
‘Charlotte, you are really pale,’ he says. ‘Did you sleep OK, or are you feeling unwell? I’m not sure I should be leaving you like this. You’re not yourself at all.’
I shake my head and lift my knife and fork to try again but I can’t do it. I just can’t. I think I’m going to be sick.
‘I’m probably just tired,’ I say to him. ‘Sorry, babe, but I’ll pop this into the oven and have it later if you don’t mind. You know me, it takes me a while to come round in the mornings and I’m just not ready for it yet.’
Jack doesn’t seem to mind at all and continues to eat his own food, but Sophie is watching me and I’ve a feeling the penny has dropped with her. I feel her eyes on me as I open the oven and put in my plate, close the oven and fill a glass of water from the tap. I know she is still watching when Jack starts talking about the crowds of people at the concert, the pain in the ass it was getting parked, the price of the cocktails compared to what you’d get in Ardara for the same cost, the way everyone was scrambling for merchandise. Sophie isn’t listening at all. Sophie knows.
‘I’m going to sit out on the deck and get some fresh air,’ I say to both of them. ‘Maybe I am coming down with something after all. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
‘Do you want me to sit with you?’ asks Sophie.
‘No,’ I tell her. ‘I won’t be long.’
My head is thumping and the blast of fresh air helps clear it a little as I let the wind and cold wake me up and shake me out of my zombie-like state. I need to just come clean and let us move on from this messy link to Tom Farley. Matthew is bound to let it slip next time we see him and what if the media do track me down? It would be so humiliating for Jack and for the whole Malone family to see little old me plastered over the newspapers as the one who broke the heart of one of the most famous singers of our time.
‘I’m going to head off, Charlotte,’ says Sophie, popping her head out through one of the patio doors. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
I nod quickly, glad to hear she is going even though I desperately want to tell her the truth.
‘OK, I’ll talk to you soon, Soph,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll give you a buzz later once Jack gets on the road.’
Her eyes look at me with deep longing and fear. ‘It’s no big deal,’ she whispers to me. ‘Well, it is a big deal but only just because of who he is. I’ll chat to you later. Chin up.’
I can see now why she’s so good at her job, but I don’t respond.
I stand up straight and follow her into the kitchen again and out towards the hallway, past Jack who is now reading the paper. My sickness returns.
‘Cheers for breakfast, Jack,’ says Sophie, hugging him where he sits at the table. ‘You keep safe in Canada, you old clever clogs. We’ll miss you.’
Jack gets up and comes with me to walk Sophie to her car at the front of the house.
‘You’ll keep her company when I’m away,’ he says, as if he’s talking about a pet or a young child. ‘She gets bored easily.’
I nudge him playfully. ‘We’ll be busy partying day and night, won’t we, Sophie? No time to get bored round here!’
Thank goodness for friends.
‘Oh, I miss you two being together already!’ she says, getting into her black, sporty Mercedes-Benz. ‘It’s like Ant with no Dec, or Bill with no Ben.’
‘Get to your meeting or you’ll be late, you rascal!’ says Jack. ‘I’ve bags to pack and need to say goodbye to my wife, wink, wink!’
Sophie skips off to her car, then zooms out of the driveway and beeps the horn as we wave her off. I’m smiling on the outside but on the inside I’m in pieces.
How can I keep on pretending that nothing happened last night? I shouldn’t be feeling this way about someone else when I’ve got the world at my feet right here. Jack lights up my whole life, Sophie is great fun and I’ve so much going for me. So why am I still feeling like I’ve a huge weight in my gut that just won’t go away?
