Cupcakes and Scrapbooks

I didn’t sleep last night, but hadn’t really expected to. I had the same thoughts swirling around my head over and over and over. My eyes felt as though they had dried out from being open so long and sleeping just wasn’t an option. I was up at 3am icing cupcakes, but that didn’t take as long as I had hoped, even being obsessively neat about it.

          I turned on my laptop, reported the three new hate groups, read a few messages from the delightful people on Twitter just to make myself feel even shittier, and went on to Van’s page. He hadn’t updated it again since the photo. I put on the TV, trying to find the most mindless show that I could. I wanted to turn my brain off and be distracted. Unfortunately, for once, everything was of an intelligent nature; documentaries, history shows and debates. I searched the movie channels and found one of Van’s. It was halfway through but I didn’t care. Seeing him on the screen caused the tears to start, and I sat there, wrapped in his robe, bawling my eyes out like a complete lunatic. The movie itself seemed to be a thriller, and my beloved was the bad guy, which was slightly unreal considering how sweet he was. His voice was lower, his sandy hair dyed brown and it was longer so it hung in his eyes. His character was utterly heartless and without morals, but I just enjoyed hearing his voice again. I dozed for a little while, and when I woke again, the sun was fully up and the flat was full of an orange glow.

          I was still shattered, but at least now I could get out of the flat. I boxed up some of the cupcakes and took them to the sweet guy at reception (he was very flattered and wouldn’t stop saying thank you.)

The sun blazed in a way I hadn’t experienced since I’d been here, but I wasn’t about to complain. I was still in love with the sun despite the thick coating of sunscreen I’d drowned myself in before leaving the building.

I’d had an idea last night (whilst staring at the ceiling for hours) and wanted to make a start on it. I would need a newsagent’s and an art supply shop. I could have asked for directions, but I really hadn’t explored as much as I should have. If I was still going to New York I wouldn’t be here much longer and needed to make the most of it. Besides, I had too much time to kill as it was.

          As I walked, I texted Sofia. I asked how she and Luke were and mentioned that I hadn’t heard from Van. She replied instantly saying that Van seemed really down, but insisted he was fine. He was hiding it well enough from Luke, but when he wasn’t around he looked morose and depressed. She said he was catching a flight back to me at 6pm, so probably wouldn’t be back at the flat until late. I thanked her and carried on searching for the shops I needed. This was not good. If he wouldn’t even talk to Sofia (and she is the easiest person on the planet to talk to) something must be really wrong. I ignored the guilt gnawing away at my insides as I really had no clue as to what I could have done. It was still there though, trying to get me to feed it with even more things I should feel bad about.

          I eventually found a newsagent that sold everything under the sun, or somewhere close. They had a scrapbook in the size I wanted, and a whole wall dedicated to magazines. I quickly had a look through them and grabbed any with Van in (over 20!) I was searching for more, when I saw a girl who looked a lot like me on the front cover of a magazine that is notorious for made up stories. I was on the front page of a magazine! How scary! They were still running the story that I was pregnant, but this time with triplets and I was only three months gone apparently. That was reassuring to know. We’d have to think up a third crazy name for when the triplets are born. I rolled my eyes as I read on, but had to buy three copies as I was so in shock at being a front page story (even if it was complete tosh.) I would send one to my mum, but I wasn’t sure if she’d find it as funny as I did.

          Lugging all the magazines back to the flat was not fun. The sun was getting insanely hot and the bags were really heavy. I made it eventually and laid them all out on the table to hack to pieces. Yes, I was scrapbooking. No I was not getting to that point where I was making them of Van so I could look at them and cry every time I missed him. I was making them for Luke. I knew his parents did everything they could to protect him from the craziness of their lives, which wasn’t always possible unfortunately, so I was trying to document everything his dad had done as much as possible for him to look over when he was older. Sure, he was twelve, but they were still keeping him out of photos and the media as much as was possible (not easy when you constantly have a camera shoved in your face.)

          I was happily cutting up magazines, surrounded by a sea of scrap paper, my hands covered in glue, and with a paper cut bleeding on to the table, when Van walked in. Fuck. I look like shit and the table is a complete mess! I was supposed to have time to clear up and make myself look…well, not pretty, but at least remove the glue from my skin and tidy myself up. I was staring at him in shock, my hands dropping to my sides. The blood dripped in a steady pattern onto the carpet. The cream carpet that we didn’t own. I barely noticed. Van’s expression was guarded, a frown on his face as he met my eyes. He was angry at me, it was obvious. I just wish he’d tell me what I’d done so I could at least try and fix it.

          “It would be nice to see you just once when you’ve not been injured.” He said in a clipped voice.

          “Shit!” I said, catching the blood in my other hand and running to the sink.

I washed my hands off and stuck a plaster over the paper cut. It was pretty pathetic, but wouldn’t stop bleeding. I grabbed a cloth and rushed over to the stain, dabbing it and scrubbing manically. It began to spread, turning pink and bleeding outwards. I was making it worse. To add to the fun, the plaster came off my finger and it began bleeding over the stain some more. Awesome. I could feel the tears coming and gave up trying to stop them. I was exhausted, confused and making things worse. I covered my face with my hands and just sobbed.

          I jumped when his hand began rubbing my back.

          “It’s just a carpet, it’s not worth getting upset about.” He said softly.

          “I don’t care about the fucking carpet!” I said between sobs. “I’ve been freaking out since you left about what I’ve done wrong and I still have no clue. If you want me to leave, I will, but please tell me what I did wrong.” I dissolved into a new round of tears, sniffling like an idiot.

He took a tissue from his pocket and pulled my hands from my face. He proceeded to gently wipe away all my tears, then the blood I’d managed to smear across my cheek. He sighed deeply, looking for the right words.

          “I haven’t been fair to you, I stormed off in a mood without any explanation…Let me get you cleaned up then we’ll sit down and talk about it ok?”

I nodded, swallowing hard to stop the tears from starting again. He lead me over to the sink and cleaned my hand up, wiping the dried blood that had run down my forearm to my elbow. His hands were deft and gentle. Being the coward that I am, I couldn’t meet his eyes, I looked at my feet, noticing droplets of blood on my socks. This country made me bleed a lot it seemed. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, so I stood there in silence as he stuck a plaster on my finger and lead me to the sofa. He sat and patted the cushion next to him. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

          This was going to be ‘the talk’. The ‘I don’t think we should work together anymore’ talk, or the ‘I don’t think we should live together anymore’ talk, or the ‘I’m taking out a restraining order against you’ talk. Regardless of its subject matter, the pained expression on his face made me think it couldn’t be good. Everything had been going so well though, we got on, we laughed at the same stupid things, we were good for each other, even if it was just as friends. Just as employer and employee. I didn’t want to think what my life would be like without him. It was pathetic and needy, but I’d never felt like this about anyone before, and it was pulling me to pieces.

          “I know Sofia told you about my last PA, but did she tell you about my latest ex?”

I shook my head, watching my hands fighting in my lap. I didn’t want to see if there was hatred in his eyes, regardless of how soft and gentle his voice was. This was the trouble with actors.

          “She was a lot like you actually; sweet, grounded, compassionate. She encouraged me to quit smoking, cut down on the drinking and made sure I ate three meals a day. She was also sleeping with most of the actors I worked with. She had one thing on her mind and it was her ambition. She didn’t care about me and stole phone number for contacts, insisted I introduce her to people she had no need to know… but I wanted to help her because she had helped me so much. Things fell apart quite quickly when she started selling stories to the papers about my alcoholism, drug taking and anything else she thought they might pay to hear. They didn’t care if it was true or not, and nor did she. There was no evidence, but that didn’t matter. My career was in shreds as no one wanted to hire someone with so many issues. Sofia and Luke were the only things that got me through it. Sofia would counter every story she told, providing evidence. Things gradually improved again, then I had the PA do almost exactly the same thing to me. My ex is still selling kiss and tells about all the people she has slept with, and none of them seem to learn from it. I ran away because…Georgiana I care about you far more than as a PA, as a friend. I thought you felt the same way until you said to your mom that I was just your boss. It scared me because it was starting to play out like it had with my ex and PA. You looked after me and ensured I looked after myself, you genuinely seemed to care and…” He trailed off.

          “I’ve never asked for anything from you.” I said. “Just your company and attention occasionally.” I said in a feeble voice.

          “I know. I pinned my hopes on this being different, but what you said on the phone…”         

          “I said that so YOU didn’t freak out! Jesus Van, you are so bloody blonde! I hang on to your every word! You’re all I think about, all I care about. The last two days have been utterly miserable. I haven’t known what to do with myself and I’ve spent a lot of it staring at walls and cyber stalking you!” I stopped myself before I sounded any more desperate than I already did. Well, the cards were now of the table, I would be kicked out in an instant.

          “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes were incredulous.

          “Hmmmm, I wonder. Could it be that you’re a hugely successful movie star and I’m just a freak from a small town in England? Or the fact that one of your ex’s is a frigging super model? Or it could be the fear of losing a job that I love. Why in God’s name would I tell you? That just leaves me open for fifteen thousand different kinds of rejection!” I met his eye and regretted it. His mouth was hanging open in horror, his eyes almost as wide. Excellent. Good going George, you’re not going to see him for dust.

He shook his head and thought for a moment.

          “This is entirely too grade school to be true. I like liked you and you like liked me and neither of us told each other.” He said in a cutesy sing song voice.

          “What?” I asked, my mouth echoing what his had just done.

          “George, I’m crazy about you and I don’t even think I’m very good at hiding it. In fact, I suck. First thing Sofia said to me when I mentioned you was; ‘You like her don’t you?’” His eyes were shining brightly.

          “Sofia is psychic I swear.” I said. “You…you want to be with me?”

          “A little slow on the uptake aren’t you Mac?” He said with a grin.

Well I was not expecting that, in fact it was the antithesis of what I had been predicting him to say. I’d actually packed my case this morning because I had expected this to go in the opposite direction.

          “I’ve been wandering around the flat wearing your robe. I even slept in it.” I said in a small voice.

          “And now you’re making a scrapbook of me?” He asked, looking over at the table, his left eyebrow raised.

I laughed.

          “No, it’s for Luke. I know you don’t let him read about you in the papers so I thought I’d start collecting them for when he’s older. I’m not completely whacked out just yet.”

His expression softened.

          “You’re doing it for Luke? That’s…that’s really sweet Iana.” His smile was contagious.

I took a minute to study him for the first time since he’d returned to me. He looked even more tired than usual, his eyes ringed, but perky and alive. He was growing stubble which was incredibly cute and made him look a little closer to his actual age. I still couldn’t associate him with a 30 something year old man, that was just insane. He was my age if not younger mentally. But we were both a pair of big kids. He wore a long sleeved blue top with the sleeves rolled back. I was guessing New York wasn’t as warm as Hollywood. He had the usual well-loved jeans which matched the ones I was wearing. He looked like a softer version of himself in the sense that his eyes were slightly dreamy, his voice almost a whisper when he spoke now. I guessed it was so I would have to lean in to hear what he was saying.

          “I really, really missed you.” He said, taking my hand between his and pressing it to his lips. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I was unbearable in NY. Sofia was getting seriously pissed off at the pining. She LOVED her picture by the way.”

          “How’s Luke?” I said, ignoring the fact that he missed me. I would be getting a gigantic ego if I thought about it too much. It was enough to know it and feel the relief in every part of me that he cared as much as I did.

          “He made you a comic book. He’s obsessed with drawing at the moment. It’s about Zombies as I told him you were a fan.”

          “AWESOME!” I said with a grin. “I made cupcakes. Pink, especially for you.”

          “You know me so well.” He rolled his eyes. “I only had three cigarettes the whole time I was away.” He said proudly, looking at my through his eye lashes. The sleeve on his top fell down and he twisted it around his fingers almost shyly.

          “If I asked you out on a date, what would you say?” He asked, pretending to be coy.

I laughed.

          “I’d have to check my schedule. I’m a very busy girl.” I said sarcastically.

          “So I gather from your voice mail. How in the hell did you get those tight fisted bastards to agree to that?”

          “I’m a girl of many talents. It was good to vent at someone as I wasn’t in the best mood over the weekend. I got recognised which was scary. This girl just came up to me, staring at my stomach to see if I actually was pregnant. She was hoping you were with me.”

          “Where was this?” He asked, still holding my hand. He traced circles into the back of it with his thumb.

          “I was out with Masa. See, I’m fighting men off with a stick at the moment.”

          “Masa?” I saw the exact second his eyes darkened and his hackles rose. I loved it. He was actually jealous! Don’t get me wrong, obviously I don’t want him to be unhappy, but at the same time, I was so flattered I felt like doing a little happy dance around the couch.

          “Masa is the guy that ran the Vegan bakery where I got the cupcakes. He asked me out. I’ve seen him a couple of times…” He was about to interrupt me. “…but nothing’s happened and I spent the whole time thinking of you. We haven’t even held hands, he acts like he’s scared of me. I really, really wanted to feel something for him because he is an incredibly sweet, good guy, but I couldn’t. I was just comparing him to you the whole time and it wasn’t fair.”

He smiled at that, clearly flattered, but it was the gospel truth. I didn’t think there had been more than two minutes where I hadn’t been thinking of Van when I’d been with Masa. It was awful because he deserved better. I would have to talk to him about where he thought we were going, because it wasn’t fair to make him think we were going to end up together. Maybe that wasn’t even what he wanted. I was leaving town soon anyway, so even if we had worked out, I wouldn’t have been around long enough to make a proper commitment anyway. Poor, sweet, lovely Masa. I didn’t think there was a girl in the world that would be good enough for him in my opinion. He was such a gentle, shy spirit. Actually, I’d pair him up with Sofia, she’d bring him out of his shell, but it wasn’t an option, not least because of the distance thing again.

          Van was staring at me as all these thoughts were buzzing around my skull. I’d spent all weekend waiting for him to come home, and now that he was here, I was having weird little ‘thought spasms’ where I was linking a million things that I really didn’t want to be thinking about when that beautiful man had his eyes on me.

          But what now? Did we carry on as we had done or did the fact that we (and I hated this phrase) ‘liked’ each other now make everything weird?

          “So, you gunna ask me out or what?” I said.

          “I’m going to wait until you least expect it.” He said, twisting his sleeve.

I took a cushion from the sofa and hit him with it repeatedly.

 

We talked through our options, but I told him I didn’t want things to change between us for now. Obviously I’d love him to ask me out, but until he stopped being a bastard and did it, things would stay as they had been with the banter, the pillow fights and the domesticated bliss. He admitted that that was one of his favourite things too. He’d never had a relationship that had been as ‘normal’ as ours was. It was far from normal, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. He’d dated super models and pretty girls who had false nails that they didn’t want to ruin. My nails were chewed to oblivion and since having the false ones removed, were still covered in flecks of adhesive. I did very much like being a proper blonde again though, that was one thing I might keep up from the premiere prep that I’d gone through. I hadn’t had hair this colour since I was tiny. I was still shocked by it

when I looked in the mirror every morning.

          We spent the afternoon practicing for his auditions by going through lines and looking over the notes I’d written for each one. He said he found them invaluable, and it was probably something he should have started doing years ago, but everyone wanted Van, he didn’t really even have to try. It was a lot of fun actually, and I got to show him how utterly horrific an actress I was. The dying swan act for one of the scenes was pretty spectacular if I do say so myself, even if I will be bruised tomorrow from throwing myself over the back of the sofa.

          Mid-afternoon there was a knock on the door. It was the lovely guy from the desk with a huge, thick envelope for Van.

          “I also wanted to thank you again for those cupcakes. My waistline doesn’t appreciate them, but my taste buds did.” He smiled warmly.

          “I’m so glad you liked them. They’re vegan.” I said, knowing that would shock him.

          “Really? I’ve never had vegan food before.” He said with a smile, excusing himself politely as he had to get back to the desk.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he frequently ate ‘vegan’, every time he ate a piece of fruit or had a salad with certain dressings. Masa’s recipe was proving popular. I’d have to make some for Sofia and Luke when we moved to New York. I was looking forward to seeing somewhere new. It seemed the girl who used to be scared to step outside her front door in the town she grew up in, had finally found her feet and grown a pair of balls.

          “Delivery Mr. Murphy. I’m guessing it’s scripts. I obviously put the fear of God into your agents if they’re hand delivering on weekends.”

He grinned, kissed the tip of my nose and opened the envelope. It was full to bursting. I had been right, they were scripts of every kind; TV, movies, even ones for music videos - now that would be cool. Van had already done three or four, but I wanted to see how it was different from a ‘normal’ shoot. Had he ever had to do a dance routine? Now that was something I would pay good money to see.

          We ate too many cupcakes, the wrappers all over the evil coffee table and the floor around it, as we picked through the scripts. They were all good scripts. The agents were obviously vetting them as before whenever they’d sent them over, there’s be three or four and most of them would be awful.

          “Miss. MacManus, I believe I have you to thank for this.” He said waving a handful of papers around. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many options at one time. I’m going to struggle to pick.” He didn’t look so tired anymore, a new energy awaked within him.

          “Leave them. I’ll go through it all whilst you’re at auditions tomorrow. I won’t have anything to do otherwise and will spend the time looking up how hated I am on the internet. At least now there’ll be a good reason.” I winked at him in a cocky way, he just shook his head.

          “I was thinking, in a couple of months, we should borrow someone’s baby just to freak everyone out.” His grin was so utterly evil I had to laugh.

          “I don’t think my mum could handle that. Wanna watch Breaking Bad?”

          “I would love to Miss. MacManus, but first please take the cupcakes away or I will keep eating them until I vomit. Who’d have thought your hippy vegan crap would taste so good.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh of righteous indignation.

          “You love my fake meat crap, you said it was just like chicken.” The amount of times I’ve switched meat for fake meat on unsuspecting people is not funny, and they can NEVER tell the difference!

          “I never did ask what it was made from…”

          “Mushroom protein. It’s not so appealing when you know that is it, especially as I hate mushrooms. C’est la vie.”

I put the cupcakes away as I was starting to feel like I’d had about six too many, and wandered back to the sofa. Van stood, scooped me up in his arms and plonked down on the seat with me on his lap. He moved to lie down and I did the same, spooning in front of him. His arm snaked around my waist and his breath was tickling the back of my neck. Breaking Bad had never been so good. If I could die right now, I’d die so euphorically happy.

The Premiere

I had begun counting the days down until ‘P’ day, and each hour closer that it came, the more my anxiety began to climb. Life was great apart from that, Van and I got on like a house on fire, doing chores together, not having a single argument about anything and getting a lot of prep done for things that weren’t happening for a while. I was almost giddy with happiness most of the time, and he seemed content too. He was eating properly, only smoking two or three cigs a day and was down to two coffees. He was sleeping better, his eyes weren’t ringed anymore and in general he looked bright eyed and bushy tailed. I’d like to think it was down to me being such great company, but I knew it was because he was finally looking after himself like a sane person.

          I had worried that living with him would make me see parts of his character that I wouldn’t like I.E; leaving dirty underwear all over the place, not cleaning up after himself, picking his nose and other gross ‘boy’ habits, but he had none that I could find. He was surprisingly domesticated, but I supposed that was probably due to living with a twelve year old boy and being responsible for raising him. Luke split his time between Sofia’s and Van’s, but both were such incredibly wonderful people, he would end up being an eco-warrior or curing cancer. This was the difference between older men and ones my own age. Every guy I had dated had expected me to be their mother and I wasn’t willing to do that 9apart from with Van). I don’t like nagging, I just find it is sometimes a necessary evil, and I would get so worn down by fighting over dishes, washing, cleaning the bathroom…I wasn’t going to be anyone’s slave. Van being a ‘grown up’ (solely in the numerical sense) could and did take care of himself, and the flat was always as tidy as it would be if I lived alone.

          We spent a whole morning washing and drying clothes, talking about our childhood’s and all the other parts of getting to know someone. I knew his favourite colour, his shoe size, his favourite foods, the toothpaste he used, what he loved, what made him angry, where he refused to shop, his political views, his stances on gay marriage (it was big in the news at the moment, but neither of us could see what the fuss was about. England had civil partnership, and quite rightly so. The fact that it was still being debated in some states made us both angry. As long as it’s between two consenting adults, it’s no one else’s business.)

We’d buy a newspaper each day and dissect the articles, we’d buy trashy magazines and see which celebrity Van was apparently dating that week (usually he’d never even met the person!) and the projects he was supposedly tied to (he’d never heard of half of it) and as his PA, I liked to think I’d have some clue if he were working on them.

Life was good. No, it was better than good, it was damn near perfect. All I could possibly ask for would be a dog and a garden where I could grow fruit and veg. Oh and for Van and I to be married. Not asking for much really.

 

The day before the ‘event’ I contacted the hair stylist and make-up artist that Sofia had recommended. They were friendly and very sweet sounding on the phone, putting me at ease instantly. I think Sofia must have warned them about my premiere virginity, but they were old hands, even though both were in their mid-twenties. I was trying to enquire about cost, when they told me it was covered. Sofia had done it as a gift to me. I felt like crying. She already had done so much for me, how could I possibly pay her back or show my appreciation?

          “Van, could you give me Sofia’s address?”

          “Uh oh, why?” He was watching a ‘fail’ video on the internet, something that I had gotten him into. The flat was always full of the sound of one of us laughing like drains as people fell off things or ‘failed’ epically.

          “I want to do something to say thank you for all her help with the dress and everything. Does she like flowers?” It was lame, but I couldn’t think of anything.

          “Hay fever.” He said, biting back a snort. It just sounded cute when he did it.

          “Chocolates?”

          “You want to buy a model chocolate?” His eyes left the screen and met mine with an incredulous expression.

          “Good point. What then?”

          “She loves interesting art, the weirder the better. I’ll show you who she’s currently into, and they’re not extortionate either.”

He was right, I could afford to buy her something even though it was on the small side. Urgh! Why couldn’t I just have enough to spoil the people I loved? We arranged for it to be sent to her in New York, and I felt a tiny bit better.

         

The day dawned. It would be a whole day of prep apparently which I was dreading. They were literally taking me apart and putting me back together again. All Van had to do was shower, dress and arrive. I hated men, they had it so easy. I personally would have just rocked up in my tatty jeans, but it was Van’s night and I didn’t want to do anything that would make him look bad, and if I looked awful, it would reflect badly on him. That was Hollywood -as I was learning to my horror. So that meant me being buffed, waxed, plucked, painted, filed, brushed, styled and god only knows what else. The Hollywood elite thought nothing of spending a whole day at the salon getting ready, but I would need a lot more work than them on account of me being a virgin and all.

          Van would be clearing out of the flat so the ladies could work their magic and I’d be meeting him there so he would be all surprised when I turned up looking like an actual female and not the freak in the bloody shirts or knackered jeans. But first, to the salon! The hair stylist worked at the one closest to me, so it made sense to go there. I was shaking when I arrived, my legs wanting to run in the opposite direction, but Hayley had me giggling within minutes. She was so incredibly sweet, it was like she had been separated from this crazy superficial world. She’d worked with all kinds of crazy famous people (not least Sofia) but she was so humble and normal (my brand of normal) that we were chatting like old friends before an hour was out. I even found it hard to hate her when she tore all my leg hair out with wax strips and plucked unholy hell out of my brows. She made sure I still looked like me, keeping my eyebrows close to their natural shape, just neatening them up a little. It made me realise how sadistic women are. Why would you choose to endure this on a weekly/monthly basis? It’s crazy! And bloody painful! I was going to be exhausted before I even got to this thing and my skin would probably be bright red and throbbing. I was going to look like a cooked lobster with a facial injury. I no longer needed the butterfly stitches, but the cut was obvious. I didn’t think foundation or make up would cover it and frankly I didn’t want it to. Despite all the changes that were being made to me, I wanted to point out to all the shallow, vain people that it’s ok to be flawed. I made a point of asking Sariah the make-up artist if she would let it be shown.

          So, I was aching all over, my skin stung, my fingers felt weird from all the filing of my nails and the glue to stick the falsies on, I was unable to move for long periods of time so things could be done to me and I was starting to feel like I’d been taken out of my skin and put in someone else’s. I was also scared. Scared that I’d want to be like this forever, and also that Van would love how I looked when I was buffed to within an inch of my life and would expect me to be like that forever. I loved him, but I didn’t know if I could cope with having my brows plucked and all the rest for my entire life (or however long he employed me.)

          Once there was nothing left to do on my body, Hayley turned to my hair. They were dying, bleaching, trimming and styling it, though it wouldn’t be in the style I’d be wearing it tonight or it would be ruined before I got there. I had foil sticking out of my head and a cape around me, looking for all the world like some steam punk Oiran, itching all over but unable to scratch as my hands were under the cloak and I was too scared to do anything.

I think I fell asleep at some point and woke to the foil being pulled out. It hurt like a bitch. I was feeling disorientated and confused and took a while to remember where I was.

 

When it was all finally finished, I couldn’t help but be impressed by my smooth legs (I usually shaved and wasn’t good at it), my hair that was now a gorgeous golden blonde rather than the dull shade I’d sported before, the highlights making it look sun kissed. Had it been worth it? I didn’t have to look at me, so I would reserve judgment until Van saw me. He might be an actor, but if I looked bloody awful, it would be written across his face.

          Sariah and Hayley met me at the flat as I had finished a late lunch, texting Van to ensure he’d eaten (‘I had a coffee and a bagel, does that count?’ he’d replied. I rang him and gave him an earful, fuelled by my aching body and tiredness. I apologised profusely afterwards, but he found the little outburst amusing)

Then the real work began. My hair was first, and I had to say Sofia was bang on. I loved the ringlets they’d put into it, with most of it gathered up on my head. That doesn’t sound pretty when I say it, but it really was gorgeous. I looked like an adult, it was so weird seeing myself in the mirror. The girl looked a bit like me, but was freaked out.

My make-up was next and again, Sofia knew her stuff. Sariah stuck to colours that would complement my paleness and the pink dress, accentuating my eyes and lips and giving me the faintest blush that made me look surprisingly wide eyed and innocent. I looked like both a child and a woman. It was crazy. They then helped me dress and got me down to the car as I was shaking so hard I could barely walk. They would be driving me there before heading home.

          “I can’t thank you both enough. Seriously, thank you so very, very much.”

          “It was a pleasure doll.” Hayley said with her heavy Brooklyn accent and a wicked grin. “Here.” She handed me an expensive looking jewelry bag. “Van asked us to give you these.”

I opened the bag and took out two plush velvet boxes. Inside were earrings, a necklace and bracelet, all adorned with what looked like diamonds in patterns like feathers. He listened! I’d told him how much I loved wings and feathers, and he’s remembered. I just hoped these hadn’t cost too much. I could feel myself welling up at how good everyone was being to me, like I was in a fairytale with a fairy godmother.

          “Don’t you dare cry!” Sariah said from the front seat.

I blinked back the tears and swallowed several times, trying to compose myself.

          “Well, here we are Cinderella.” Hayley said with a giggle.

How did she know what I’d been thinking? Van was stood at the curb waiting to open the door for me. He knew how scared I was and it was a relief to see him. The red carpet started where the car had stopped and ran all the way into the biggest cinema I had seen in my life. It was at least ten times the size of any I’d seen back home, and just looking at it from this far away made me feel tiny.

Van opened the door and extended a hand to me, helping me as I tried to balance on my heels. They sensibly weren’t very high, but it was like putting them on a chimp, I was worried about being that uncoordinated.

          Van looked…well, he always looked beautiful, stunning, sexy, perfect, wonderful, amazing…but in that suit…holy hell. I could see why the fan girls got so rabid over him as he really was something else. It was also completely unfair as I knew it had probably taken him all of half an hour to get read.

          “Miss. MacManus….Wow!” He said, his smile so wide I thought his face might split. “You look amazing. Truly.” He kept hold of my hand and linked his fingers through mine.

I told myself it was because he knew I couldn’t cope with the heels, but my heart was telling me it was more than that. Stupid heart.

He made me give him a twirl which was difficult, but the dress flowed out beautifully like the petals of a blossom. I felt…pretty, for the first time in my life I felt like I might not stick out like a freak in this parade of beautiful creatures.

          “Georgiana, I can’t get over how beautiful you look.” His eyes had taken on a slightly glazed and dreamy look, and my heart went completely mental.

The excitement of his approval displaced my terror briefly, but once Van stepped out of my line of sight and I could see all the people…well, my knees locked, my palms began to sweat and I had to concentrate on my breathing.

          “I won’t let go of you all night, I promise.” He said, putting an arm around my waist as we started to walk up the carpet.

This was completely insane. I was just some nothing girl from a small town in England, the most glamorous event I’d attended back home was the Leaver’s Ball at school, and that had descended into a drunken mess after an hour. I’d managed to sprain my ankle after being there ten minutes and spent the night with my foot on a chair, trying not to cry from the agony. I couldn’t leave because I couldn’t walk, and two people (who had ditched me the second we’d gotten here) were staying at my house. Not the best night of my life.

          “Van, I can’t thank you enough for the beautiful jewelry, but you’re taking it all back!”

He stopped walking and looked at me, really looked. He took my face between his hands and gently kissed the line of my cut.

          “They could have hacked you to ribbons and you’d still be the most beautiful girl here.” He said, taking my hand again.

Thank goodness for the twenty layers of makeup as I was blushing like I never had before.

          There were crowds on both sides of the carpet, kept back by security and metal gate things. Van’s name was being screamed from both sides. On the right were the paps and TV stations, on the left, the public. Van went straight to the left, ignoring the interviewers yelling his name over and over. He gave his fans a one handed, one fingered salute and they all returned it, laughing hysterically. Despite the fact that there were other successful actors in this movie, there wasn’t one person with a banner saying any of their names.

          I looked over the sea of happy faces and the many, huge, coloured card banners. Most of them were; ‘We love you Van’, or ‘Van, Van, he’s our man!’ or even slightly cringe-y ‘I want to have your babies Van’. Nice. He took it all in stride and chatted with everyone he passed. The girls were scrambling to get closer to him, pushing and shoving each other in desperation. Would that be me if I didn’t have his hand in mine? I doubted it, I wasn’t the kind of person to fight through a crowd, but if I had heard of him before I came here, my internet browsing history would probably be full of his fan-sites where I had been cyber stalking him.

I noticed that whilst the faces were smiling joyously when looking at Van, they either fell, or turned nasty when they saw me. Holding his hand. It should have been them in their opinion as they loved him far more than I ever could. I noticed a couple of people pointing it out, whispering behind hands and narrowing eyes at me. I smiled to them, hoping they might see that I really wasn’t a bad person. I wasn’t a good one, but I wasn’t bad either. I hadn’t done anything to garner this loathing and muck spreading. I loved him as much as they did. Surely if that was the only reason they hated me, they should be tearing chunks out of each other for the same thing.

          I released his hand slowly so he could be in photos, sign autographs and chat to people, but his eyes always returned to me, smiling in a dappy way when he saw I was looking at him too. Was he drunk? That was the only explanation I could come up with as he’d never looked at me like that before, or was it that he was starting to see me as a female now that I had been stuck in a pretty dress and made up?

A couple of women near the front of the crowd were trying to get my attention. I’d been standing out of arm’s reach just in case they felt like scratching my eyes out, but they were smiling warmly.

          “Miss. MacManus?” One of them called, a middle aged woman in a t-shirt with Van’s face on it. She had his name across her forehead in face paint.

          “Hi.” I said, feeling like an idiot. “Thank you for coming out to support Van.” My voice shook in the most ridiculous way so that I sounded like a goat given words.

          The woman looked over and Van to check he wasn’t listening, before grabbing my arm and pulling me to her.

          “We all want you to fucking go and die.” She said, digging his nails into my arm.

I couldn’t fight her off due to the press of bodies in front of me. I couldn’t flip around and pin her arm to her back as everyone was so closely packed. Another hand grabbed my arm, and another, all pulling me to them and sinking talons into my flesh. I didn’t know what to do, looking around desperately for security. One of the tuxedoed guards rushed over and saved me, his eyes wide in horror at the marks they’d left on my arm. He called over his colleagues over his walkie-talkie and they ejected the women from the crowd.

Blood was trickling down my arm. How? Could nails break skin so easily?

          “One of them had a ring on the tip of her finger that had a sharp point on it.” One of the guards said, taking me arm and leading me to the entrance of the theatre.

          Van appeared of my side looking haunted.

          “What happened?” He asked breathlessly.

          “I’m ok Van, don’t worry.” I said, trying to be breezy, but my shaking hands gave me away.

The guard explained to him what had happened and he looked at the crowd in disgust. He pulled me into an embrace, being careful of my wrist, his arms wrapped around my waist made me feel safe and loved even. I couldn’t feel the pain from the cuts when he did that.

          “I’ll come in with you.” He said, taking my hand in his.

          “Don’t be silly. As your PA, I demand you go mingle. I’ll get this cleaned up and come back out.” I tried to smile, but it felt false. It was a shame I wasn’t an actor sometimes.

He pressed a hand gently to my cheek and asked the security guards to look after me. They both smiled at him, then at me. They clearly thought it was cute. I did too.

I held my arm as far from my dress as I could, the guards taking my elbows gently and helping me inside. Had they known how much I was struggling with these bastard heels?

          “He really cares about you.” The guy who had saved me said.

I blushed and chewed on my lip.

          “Thank you both so much, I didn’t know what to do when she grabbed me.”

          “It’s our job. We should have been there quicker.” The other one said, sounding annoyed with himself.

          “Well, you’re my heroes.” I said smiling.

It was lucky the carpet was red from the droplets I was leaving on it, the material drank them up until it blended in, a different hue, but barely noticeable.

They patched me up quickly, cleaning the cuts and covering them with gauze. They were so gentle. It was completely at odds with the tall, well build men that had performed the task. They helped me back to Van’s side and he turned his full attention to me. I thanked the security guards again and looked to Van. His eyes were full of concern, and his hand quickly found mine. It was then I realised my bracelet was gone.

          “Shit.” I hissed. “Van, they took that beautiful bracelet you gave me.” My throat was tightening again. Crying would be the worst thing to do, but I couldn’t believe those bitches not only cut me, embarrassed me, but also stole from me. Some people had no morals.

          “That’ll be on e-bay tomorrow then.” He said with a grimace. “There’s nothing that can be done about it now unfortunately. I’ll get you another one.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

          “I don’t want another one, I feel bad enough that you bought me that one!”

          “Well now the set isn’t complete, I can’t return it. Looks like you’ll be keeping them. Sucks to be you.” He said with a laugh.

          “Go on, shoo, mingle, work the crowd.” I said. “Oh by the way, have you eaten?”

He stuck his tongue out at me and squeezed my hand, an eyebrow raised in something of a challenge. I ‘saluted’ him with both hands, sticking my tongue out too. The crowd copied me, aiming it at Van. Some of them were nice it seemed.

          “Just try and kick my ass with all these witnesses.” He thought he was safe! He clearly had no idea of how much damage I could do with these heels.

          “Don’t think I won’t bucko, your ass is mine when we get out of here.” I whispered in his ear, smiling.

          “Kinky.”

He began chatting to fans again, but was loathe to let go of my hand. When he did, it was so briefly I barely noticed.

Three girls that were half way down the line turned to me once they’d spoken to Van.

          “We’re so sorry those hateful bitches attacked you. We’re not all like that.” The girl was about my age, slightly shy like me. She was slim and short, with hair of the shade mine had been before it was dyed. I wanted to hug her for showing me some kindness after those hateful hags had attacked me.

          “Thank you.” I said, not knowing what else to say, and worried that she would turn into a psycho and tear my arm from its socket.

          “Some of his fans love you for getting him to cut down on the cigs. We’ve been nagging him for years.” She said with a laugh. Yay! I had the fan base helping me in my crusade! Awesome!

          “Keep at it my lovely, maybe it’ll happen once day.” I said, keeping out of arms reach, but trying to be friendly. She was lovely! Part of me felt that she deserved to be in my position far more than I did, she’d probably been dedicated to Van for years.

          “They stole your bracelet didn’t they?” She said, looking at my wrist.

I nodded, not wanting to speak for fear of welling up again.

          “Here.” She said, unfastening her silver charm bracelet and handing it to me.

          “That is so sweet, but I couldn’t possibly take it.” I was blushing. I was awful at accepting gifts, and she clearly had been meticulously collecting the charms for a while. I felt awful, but she wouldn’t accept a no.

          “Please. I would love to see it in a magazine. You can give it back to me at his next premiere.” She said with a grin.

          “That is incredibly sweet of you. What’s your name?”

          “Leila.” She said, fastening it around my unwounded wrist for me.

          “Thank you so much Leila, it’s beautiful.” I loved how it tinkled whenever I moved my hand. I examined the charms and found an apple, a horseshoe, hearts and any other number of mini silver items. It was gorgeous. I felt awful for taking it, but I didn’t know how to refuse without being rude.

          “But only until the next premiere.” I said smiling warmly at her. “Did you get to speak to Van?”

          “No, I got pushed out of the way.” She said sadly.

          “Hold on, I can fix that.”

I tugged Van’s hand gently, and when he was finished talking to one of the fans he turned to me.

          “This is Leila, she just leant me this beautiful bracelet.” I said.

He couldn’t have been sweeter to her, posing for photos, chatting, signing things and even speaking to her friend on the phone who couldn’t make it. Her expression said it all, she was as giddy over him as I was.

          “Message me on twitter and we’ll arrange for me to give this back.” I said, giving her a hug. It seemed like the right thing to do, and no one tried to drag me behind the gating and murder me. Small mercies.

          Once we’d reached the end of the line of fans, Van had to go over to the paps waiting impatiently on the other side.

          “God I hate this.” He said through gritted teeth.

          “It’ll be over before you know it.” I said.

He still had hold of my hand and made no move to let go. He lead me over to the baying mob and stopped to talk to the first interviewer, a platinum blonde with huge…eyes. And boobs. Huge, fake, plastic boobs that were hard to look away from -and I’m a girl. Van was perfect though, he met her eyes and ignored ‘the girls’, being his usual charismatic self.

She turned to me and stuck the mike in my face.

          “How are you enjoying the premiere George?” She said, her expression making it evident that she didn’t give a shit about anything I had to say, she wanted to trip me up, but would lead me into a false sense of security with simple questions at first.

          “Georgiana.” Van corrected.

 He knew I hated it when people I didn’t know shortened my name. I found it rude.

          “Georgiana…you got in some trouble earlier.” Oh she was thrilled about that! I could see her eyes glowing as she relived it in her head.

I nodded.

          “I’m not the most popular girl here tonight.” I said, looking at her and not the huge camera that was pointed at me. I could hear the tremor in my voice, and felt Van’s arm snake around my side.

          “You two seem pretty close.” She said, looking between us. She did not approve. It was amazing what you could read from a look; I wasn’t good enough, I was plain, dull, unworthy and should pack my bags and go back to England.

          “We drove to Vegas last night and got married.” Van said in a serious voice.

          “And I’m six months pregnant with his child.” I added.

I hadn’t known him six months, but what the hell! Might as well start some rumours that weren’t as offensive as ‘I used to be a man.’

          “Really?!?” She said in shock. “Your stomach is so flat!”

Van placed a hand over my tummy and rubbed it in a paternal way, his eyes on my stomach. He’d be talking to it next. I wondered what he’d call out fake baby. I was trying to think of something completely mental just to see how people reacted.

          “The baby’s tucked up under her ribs apparently.” He said grinning.

I bit back a laugh. Baiting the media was fun! What other ridiculous things could we make up? How was she believing this! I knew it would come back and bite me in the arse, but for now I’d enjoy it, it was a game we played together, trying to outdo each other with ridiculous things.

          “Well, congratulations! That’s…wow.” She said in badly suppressed surprise. Of course no man would impregnate a skinny little freak like me right?

          We moved on to the next person and were amazed that the news of my pregnancy had already spread right to the other end of the line, people were yelling out congratulations so that we might move down to them quicker. Uh oh. I just hoped my mum didn’t see this or I would have some serious explaining to do, not least because I told her I didn’t want kids. It was getting to the point where she was going to start bribing me soon as she was so desperate for a grandchild.

          “So you’re expecting? How exciting!” Another blonde, another pair of ridiculous boobs. Another mike shoved in my face with such speed I was scared she was going to knock a couple of my teeth out.

          “Yes, we’re very pleased.” Van said, his hand still on my stomach.

          “Do you know the sex?” She screeched in a fake, over perky tone.

          “Twins, one of each.” I said. I couldn’t look at Van or I’d be giggling.

Van bit his lip to stop himself laughing.

          “Any names planned?” She asked, looking at me with revulsion.

          “We’ve been arguing over that actually. Mac wants something traditional, but I was thinking something more original. I like Zebedee for a boy and Loopy for a girl.”

I had to turn away and pretend to cough. How was he keeping a straight face? The interviewer’s expression dropped, before she remembered herself and gushed at how cute they were. What the fuck? They weren’t cute, they were mental! Giving those names to a kid was bordering upon child abuse. No fake child of mine was being called Loopy.

          We moved on to the next, and the next and the next. It was exhausting, but also hilarious. Not being an actress myself, I found it harder to keep from laughing, but generally hid it behind a cough. Van was having a field day, changing the names for more insane ones the further down the line we got.

          “We’re going to get in so much trouble.” I whispered.

          “Trust me, this is no weirder than some of the things I’ve read about myself. I’ve been abducted by aliens, part of a drug cartel and a porn star. It’s insane the things people come up with.”

          “Well I used to be a man.” I said laughing.

          “I’m open-minded.” He said nudging me gently with his elbow.

By this point, the fans had heard about our fake baby, and were screaming hysterically to get Van’s attention. We’d gotten here really early (to the point where the other stars still weren’t due for another half an hour) so he walked back over to chat to them all again.

          “It’s a huge joke, she’s not six months pregnant. We haven’t known each other for six months.” He said laughing at the mix of ‘congratulations’ and ‘I’d have had your baby if you’d asked’ being yelled from the sea of people. They all gave him the one fingered salute which he returned with gusto. Usually by now he’d be on his tenth cigarette, but he hadn’t lit up once. He didn’t smell of smoke, so I guessed he hadn’t snuck any before I’d arrived either.

          The cameras were still snapping at us madly, and I realised I would possibly turn up in a magazine or two tomorrow. I would have to send a few to my parents, they would be so shocked. I couldn’t imagine how it felt to walk into a corner shop and be greeted by your own face on the front page of every mag on every shelf. Hopefully they’d Photoshop me out of them. It also meant more fodder for my haters to edit for their face book groups. They must be on their fourth or fifth page by now as they kept being removed. Heh heh heh.

          The cuts on my wrist were beginning to itch, but I tried to ignore it. Thinking of those itching made the ones on my back join in, along with the one on my cheek. I was feeling vain. Not wanting to scratch my cheek and ruin my makeup. Oh god, I was going Hollywood! The move to New York could not come soon enough!

          After Van had been chatting to the fans for a while, more cars began to pull up.

          “You might want to go inside - just about all my co-stars are complete ass holes.” He whispered in my ear.

          “90% of this city is, I need to get used to it for next year’s pilot season.”

He grinned so widely that his eyes almost disappeared. He clutched my hand a little tighter when one of the occupants of the cars approached. He was…well, he looked like an advert for steroid abuse. His t-shirt had had the sleeves ripped off to show off his muscles, though I was tempted to ask him to cover them up as the veins pulsing over them were making me feel ill. He strode over to Van like he thought he was God, ignoring the fans (not that many of them were interested)

          “Van.” He said in a snippy tone.

He turned to me and extended a hand. I gave him mine, but was suddenly terrified he might crush it. He pulled it to his mouth and kissed the back of it. I wanted to wipe it on my dress, but instead smiled sweetly.

          “This your PA? She’s hot.” He said, his eyes tracing my legs.

I shuddered, wanting to go shower as he made me feel dirty. Van’s hand tightened on mine, but he would be the diplomat today.

          “Georgiana, this is Bruce.” He said, his tone and blunt as steroid man’s.

          “I’m sure you know who I am.” He said with a wink.

I didn’t, I had absolutely no clue whatsoever. I could see Van bristling with every word this pumped up creep said, so thought I would have a little fun.

          “No, I’m afraid not.” I made my eyes wide and twirled a strand of hair around my finger, blinking more than I needed to.

          “You must have, I was in the ‘Dark’ series.”

I shook my head and smiled vacantly.

          “Bruce, Bruce Norris…” He looked devastated.

          “Afraid not. It doesn’t ring any bells.” I aimed for vapid and dumb.

He narrowed his eyes and stalked away, striding straight over the paps, who were only mildly interested in him.

          “He’s not the worst one.” Van said with a sigh as a stunning ash blonde sashayed over to him, ignoring me completely.

          “Van!” She hugged him and kissed both of his cheeks.

I gritted my teeth, noticing how she was trying to get between Van and I, even though he had his fingers laced through mine.

          “It’s so good to see you.” She purred, taking his free hand and pressing it between both of hers. He didn’t look happy. “So how have you been? I’ve missed you.” She made big eyes at him, constantly edging closer.

She was another Barbie doll with her tiny waist and perfect hair, but her boobs were of the joke sized variety. How could people take these women seriously? It didn’t matter if they had a degree in quantum physics, people would only see a walking pair of boobs. I was a girl and that’s all I was seeing.

          He was smiling politely, but I could tell he was looking for an excuse to leave.

          “I’ve decided to forgive you for not coming to lunch with me. I know how busy you are and all. Maybe we could spend some time together at the after party?” Her fingers were on her throat, her cleavage, her hips. I wanted to vomit.

          “I won’t be staying for it, but thank you anyway. Let me introduce Georgiana to you.” He said.

Her eyes started at my shoes and worked their way up and she clearly didn’t like what she saw. Her expression made me think she could smell something bad in the way she wrinkled her nose and slit her eyes at me.

          “Who are you wearing?” She asked.

          “My dress? Oh it’s from a small boutique just off the strip.” I told her the name, but she sneered at me.

          “I was sent this Versace dress yesterday. It was designed especially for me.”

          “How lovely.” I said, looking to Van for help. He shook his head, he was as lost as I was.

          “So who are you to Van?” She asked, stepping closer to me in a way that was meant to intimidate. In her six inch heels she towered over me, her false nails almost twice as long as mine. I had an image of her using them to gouge my eyes out.

          “I’m his PA.” I said quietly.

          “Oh is that all?” She said looking relieved. “I thought he’d gotten himself a girlfriend without telling me. We’re incredibly close you know.” She placed a hand on his chest and he unconsciously stepped back. They weren’t close, he cleared hated her. “All those weeks working together, you learn things about each other and share certain experiences.” She purred.

She may as well have marked her territory by peeing on him, she was so blatant about it. I wasn’t going to play her game, I had his hand in mine after all, which she hadn’t failed to notice.

          “Oh, he hasn‘t mentioned you. Maybe he doesn‘t want to make the other girls jealous.” I said with a gentle smile.

She stood open mouthed, unsure of how to react.

          “Van, have you been neglecting your good friend? That’s unworthy of you. Maybe we could all get lunch together. I’d love to know you better Miss….?”

Her whole face almost collapsed under the weight of her horror. I didn’t know who she was! How could that possibly be? I was getting depressingly good at being a bitch whilst seeming polite. I didn’t like it, but if it made her leave.

          “Violet DeBois.” She said in an icy tone. “The star of the ‘Holly’ trilogy and beloved of Broadway.” She was torn between horror and confusion. How could someone not have heard of her?

          “Ok.” I said, saying more with those two letters than a hundred sentences could have. I hated who I was beginning to turn into, I just hoped it was solely in defense of Van, but part of it was rooted in jealousy. He might hate her, but she was gorgeous.

          “So when would you like to get lunch?” I asked sweetly.

She pretended someone was calling her and rushed over to the line of media hounds, trotting like a dressage horse.

          “Who are you and what have you done with my innocent little George?” Van whispered in my ear.

          “Got rid of them didn’t it? And I genuinely have no clue who either of those people are.” I smiled sweetly at him.

          “Not an actress my ass.” He laughed as we headed into the cinema.

 

The movie itself was an action adventure, and Van was…amazing didn’t cut it. I was completely in love. His character was like a new Indiana Jones type, without the ‘sticking his tongue down the throat of every female going’ he was intelligent, witty and kick ass with hand to hand combat. I was on my edge of the seat the whole time.

          Violet played the generic ‘eye candy’ role and was a complete bitch throughout the film - just like in real life! Not much acting involved I think. Bruce was the meathead henchman of the bad guy, again, not much acting involved. The audience loved it, I loved it, even the critics were buzzing as they left. Van thanked the organisers, director and crew before we snuck off. He had no intention of going to the after party, and if we were spotted, he might be obliged too.

          “I should just tell them that being six months pregnant, I have to take you home.”

I rolled my eyes and him, loving that I came in an expensive, sleek, black (Bentley? Benz? I had no idea) thing and left in his truck. Very cool. The second I was inside I took off the heels and let out a relieved sigh. It felt amazing! It was almost worth wearing the damned things for all that time just for the feeling when I took them off. Van was loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

It had been a good night, not nearly as scary as I had thought and I’d made it through without any of his co-stars punching me out, or the media asking me why I was there as I had no right to be. The cuts on my wrist stung a little, and I realised since coming here I was gaining quite the collection, but it wasn’t so bad. A fly in the ointment, but no big deal.

 

It took me ages to get the bastard make up off when we got back, but once I had, I was snoring on the sofa within minutes. I woke the next morning in my bed, so could only assume Van had carried me in…and undressed me! The dress was carefully hung up on the front of the wardrobe, but thankfully I was still in my underwear. Lucky it had matched as usually I couldn’t care less about that kind of thing!