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Chapter Eleven

“Stop wallowing, Angelica!” Mam’s at my door, a huge mug of tea in hand.

“I’m not wallowing!” I yell, my voice muffled from beneath my duvet.

I have, indeed, been wallowing. After Madison called yesterday, I’ve decided to, like a sick Victorian woman, take to my bed.

It’s also the only room Mam hasn’t boxed up yet so it might be my last chance.

The North Stars house has gone up in flames and with it any possibility of season two, and me actually making any money to get us a new place.

Then there’s Damon, I phoned him straight after coming off the phone to Madison and he didn’t answer.

So I phoned him again, and again, and again .

When he eventually answered, he sounded pissed off to hear my voice, barking “what do you want?” down the line.

I would have thought I’d have been the first person he called when he heard about the house, as it was more than just the place we filmed, it was also the setting for so many memories we made together.

He just didn’t seem to care, and sounded so cold.

“You may need season two, Angelica, but I don’t,” he’d said, sounding like he wanted to hurry me off the call.

“I’ve got so many opportunities flying my way.

There’s a new alcopop that wants me to be the face of the brand.

” He put on a weird marketing voice as he continued.

“The affordable alternative to champagne that guys want to be seen with. It’s called ‘Stud Suds’. ”

I’m glad we’re not on that new FaceTime thing as he’d have seen me wincing.

Stud Suds? Puke. But I stopped. In the background, I could hear giggling.

When I asked who was there, his barking turned to something more like yelling and I knew he must have been drinking all day.

Hopefully not his gross-sounding new alcopop.

“That’s none of your fucking business, we’re not even a couple! ” and then, he hung up.

Not even a couple. The words had been like a slap to the face.

I mean I knew he loves to flirt, but I’d been doing all that ‘if you love something, let it go,’ bollocks to give him the freedom I thought he needed to realise that I was the one who really knew him, the one who’d be there waiting for him.

But was I being a prize idiot waiting for him while he was shagging his way to sponsorship deals and a regular booking at the STI clinic?

In despair (and to stop me from doing something stupid) I took the SIM card out the back of my phone and threw it into one of the open packing boxes that filled the living room.

A day later I do feel a bit silly for doing that. I miss my chats with my girls. I’d also like to see if Damon has messaged a hungover apology.

Mam comes and sits at the end of my bed, and hands me the mug.

“Look love,” she says, taking a loud slurp of her own tea.

“I know this is a disappointment but this,” she gestures to the hovel I’ve managed to create around me.

There are empty packets of crisps that crinkle and spread crumbs whenever I move, littered around.

There’s a lot of other debris too, including three sachets of face mask that I shoved on, in a row, hoping that they’d fix me.

I really think a face mask can fix a lot, but these are cheap and seem to have brought me out in a (Lady Danger style) rash around my chin. “This is not Clarke family behaviour.”

“You said sometimes a wallow is good for us!” I protest, reciting another one of mam’s lessons she distilled in us growing up. “We can take twenty-four hours to recharge.”

She taps her watch. “Yes, and your twenty-four hours are up.” She glances at a streak of brown smeared across the white duvet cover.

“It’s chocolate! I swear!” I scramble around for the empty Maltesers box for evidence, but it’s nowhere to be found.

It’s then I hear a chuckle at the door and look up, in horror, to see Leo standing there.

I frantically grab for the duvet to cover myself up.

I’m wearing a Forever Friends t-shirt, pyjama bottoms covered in sloths drinking coffee, exclaiming SLOTHEE MORNING, which even I can admit is a shit pun and there’s two holey, mismatched slipper socks on my feet.

Pulling at the duvet unleashes an avalanche of even more junk – some Haribo packets, a flattened McDonald’s carton, ooh some cold squashed chips that, admittedly, I’d eat if Leo wasn’t standing right there and… the Maltesers box.

“See!” I point to it, as if it holds the power to return me my dignity. “Chocolate!”

“What are you doing here?” I say, and I glare at Mam. “And why didn’t you tell me I had a visitor?”

“Oh, Leo popped by an hour ago, your dad’s been talking to him about Mary, queen of Scots,” Mam says. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear them.”

“Knowledgeable bloke, your dad,” Leo says, smiling. “I wanted to call round and see how you’re coping. After the fire?”

“Call round? You live in London, not at the end of road!” I don’t know why I’m being so grumpy. After all, it is sweet of Leo to check in on me. No one else has. Well, actually, everyone has. Apart from Damon. So… Oh, I’m wallowing again.

“I couldn’t get hold of you by phone, and I had some work to do up here,” he says. “And by work, I mean taking you out of this hovel and cheering you up. I thought we could take a road trip - go and see Layla?”

Mam looks at me, and her eyes say it all. Get up, get on with life, we Clarkes don’t let the world grind us down.

“OK, give me ten minutes, I’ll get ready and be down.”

Mam looks over at me, taking in my ratty hair and the mask rash on my chin, then back at Leo.

“Best give her half an hour, love.”

I don’t know where we’re going. Leo told me we were stopping somewhere on the way to Layla’s.

But what I do know is: Leo has a very nice car.

It’s a zippy little two-seater thing, don’t ask me to name the make, I’m not that kind of girl.

But when we get off the motorway, it has a button you can press, so that the roof folds back and it’s just warm enough for us to do it, even if it is a bit windy and my hair is a mess again, after finally managing to tame it this morning.

I don’t mind though, Leo was right, I needed to get out and have a laugh.

Leo’s even let me take control of the music, so we’re blasting out Rihanna’s ‘We Found Love’ and for once I’m not thinking, like I usually do, about me and Damon and how this song – and every song, come to think of it – perfectly describes our love.

Instead, I’m enjoying the sunshine on my face and how Leo’s answering all the silly questions I’m firing his way, like, ‘would you rather be eaten by a shark or a person?’ (Person, if it would help keep his friend alive) and ‘if you were a dinosaur, what dinosaur would you be?’ He really considered that one, before saying: “if I’m going to be honest Angelica, it would be the diplodocus.

He’s vegetarian, reliable and sturdy and, well…

” Leo raised his neck, really pronouncing it.

“I’ve also got quite a freakishly long neck.

But…” He paused, and kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road.

“I’m worried, picking that one, it’s not very sexy, is it?

Should I not pick the T-Rex or something, is that alpha enough for you? ”

A blush began to snake its way up his, yes, freakishly long neck, as he said it.

I’m not used to this. Leo actually cares what I think.

(Plus, apparently he cares whether I think he’s sexy.) Leo’s seen me in some absolutely terrible states.

And, if you’re thinking, so has the whole world, you’d be wrong.

There were things we all did in that house that the producers deemed ‘unscreenable.’ A term me, Madison and Layla have since adopted, messaging each other and saying “shall we get unscreenable tonight?” to describe when we want to go really feral.

Leo’s pulled the car over to one side, and has pulled a piece of red fabric out of his pocket.

“You trust me, don’t you, Angelica?” he says, and I’m strangely transfixed as he’s removed his jumper, revealing a tight, burgundy t-shirt.

I knew his arms were good, but is that a trace of a six-pack I see?

I nod. “Good,” he says, wrapping the fabric around my eyes.

As soon as I’m in the dark, it’s like my senses have been heightened.

I can smell Leo, so clearly. He smells like vanilla and bonfire smoke.

He tightens the blindfold, before guiding me, firmly, by the shoulders out of the car.

“Watch your feet,” he says, in a way that manages to be both caring and commanding all at once.

I feel like I could stumble and fall, and he’d catch me.

I feel like stumbling and falling so that he will catch me.

He manoeuvres me so I’m walking in front of him, I can feel his breath on my neck, slow and steady, and, the way we’re walking, I can’t help but brush my ass against his groin, as we bump along the road.

All of a sudden I’m overcome with a desire for him to stop us, dead in our tracks, spin me around and kiss me.

To feel his lips against mine, the blindfold still on, to succumb to the tingling of my senses… But then—

“We’re here!” he says. He unties the blindfold and the sunshine rushes into my eyes, making me dizzy and confused.

I blink as the world comes back into view. We’re…? Where? On some random footpath? Why has Leo brought me here?

“You needed a reminder of the bigger picture, right?”

I nod. “So you thought you’d take me on a hike?”

“Nope, I’ve brought you to…” He spins me round so I can suddenly see the beautiful hills and trees under the shining blue sky.

“Your namesake!”