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Chapter Twenty-Seven

When I was a little girl, I would become so engrossed with my mam’s fashion magazines, begging for her old ones so that I could rip the pictures out of them and Pritt Stick them in my diary, creating a collage of all I wanted to be and experience when I grew up.

I’d tear out pictures of red carpets and glue them in, then carefully cut out all my favourite celebrities and line them up on ‘my’ VIP carpet, before getting a biro and drawing me: Angelica Clarke, superstar!

Picturing the day when all my dreams had come true and I was swanning down the carpet, with all the attention and photographers on me.

That night has finally come. This year is so different from last year’s awards, when we were all new to the scene and were very much the added ‘extras’ of the ceremony.

Whereas, right now, everyone knows who Damon and I are, and they all want photos of us, the fans want autographs and selfies and even the other celebs on the carpet are coming up to us and saying they love the show and they so hope “all that business” with the house can get sorted so there’s a second season.

People keep coming up and telling me how gorgeous I look, and for once I actually let myself believe them.

Jared’s made my hair Hollywood perfect, and my skin is glowing from within, thanks to Verity’s trickery.

But, no matter how many people tell me how good I look, I can know it but I can’t feel it.

It just doesn’t register, or sink in. I’m still shaking from the adrenaline of the evening and the shock of earlier.

There wasn’t time to cry, or rage, as we had to stick to our glam schedule, so I simply sent a message to Leo saying:

I can’t believe you would do this, don’t contact me again.

Then, because I couldn’t bear to see his reply, or excuses, I left my phone in my hotel room.

Damon arrived in the limo and barely glanced up from his phone when Ravi opened the door to let me in.

I told him he looked dashing in his suit but he didn’t say anything back to me, just kept reading out all the comments calling him a ‘legend’ since the leak happened.

As we stand on the red carpet together, and he finally begins to show me some attention, the flashbulbs going crazy, I realise that little girls might look at this image, of me, of us, and dream of their future lives.

I wonder if the women that I idolised felt like this inside: empty.

It’s not just that I’m hungry, and my body is crying out for a meal, but I am also crying out for a forgotten feeling, a place where I didn’t feel so lost. All I’ve ever wanted is to be here, on this red carpet, with Damon looking on adoringly at me.

But my smile feels so fake, like I’ve just learned how to assemble my face this way, and my brain knows it’s not real, so the happiness never envelops me.

And, if I’ve learned how to fake it this way, how can I trust the way Damon is looking at me now?

How do I know he’s not acting too? I shake my head.

I have to get that thought out of my woozy mind, with Leo betraying me and Sebastian out of the picture, Damon has to be my one true love.

After all, he’s who I’ve wanted from the very beginning.

I wobble inside the venue and go take our seats.

We’re on an even better table than last time and there are actual celebrities who we’re sharing with, but even though I know all of their faces from TV and movies, my brain scrambles to remember their names.

And, of course, because I’m meant to know who they all are, no one introduces themselves.

I turn to whisper to Damon to help me out, but he’s long gone, having disappeared to the bathroom for a suspiciously long time.

I can’t tell if my annoyance at him is real, or just fuelled by this immense hunger.

And it turns out the extreme dieting wasn’t even needed, the dress is actually loose on me.

I begin to eye up the wine on the table, and crane my neck to see if there’s any waiters around who will pour it for me.

I’ve already had about three champagnes, and am beginning to feel that lovely buzz, which is chilling me out.

I begin to sway slightly in my seat, so what if the whole world has seen my vagina?

As Madison said, “it’s a great little purse” and I had at least done that dodgy wax.

One of the actors across from me is eyeing me, I can’t read his expression.

I decide he must think I’m hot. That’s the way through this: POSITIVE!

MENTAL! ATTITUDE! I decide not to bother waiting for a waiter and pour myself a glass, choosing my water glass instead of my wine glass and filling it to the brim.

I gulp down some, it’s nice wine, and when the actor opposite tries to speak to me, I am too tired for making small talk so I yell across the table, “I’m very sorry, I can’t hear you. ”

Suddenly, I’m tired of always performing.

Why bother being nice to people and making new friends when all that happens is they either think they can fuck you, or they want to sell stories on you?

No, I’ll just wait here, stuck in my own head, until Damon comes back.

I can trust him. He wouldn’t sell stories on me as he’s a part of them all.

I’m having a small dance in my seat, thinking of my lovely old lady friends and their chair Zumba, when Geraldine comes charging over.

She pulls the seat up beside me, and begins rattling on about how well I look, though tonight I’m too numb to care.

I smile and say thank you, like I’ve done all evening, while feeling slightly monstrous within.

I can’t believe the way I snapped at Verity earlier, and she still continued to help me and be my friend.

I pour myself more wine. “Careful with that, I have it on very good authority you might be on that stage later on. Weren’t you smart, leaking those strip photos of you.

The perfect ‘before’! I bet the NuYu sales shot up this morning when people were reminded of your transformation. ”

“I didn’t leak them,” I say, but it lands on deaf ears. She’s still going on and I zone her out slightly until I hear, “though I must admit I don’t get why Damon would agree to The Thunder Down Under deal when your whole strategy recently has been to show how in love you are.”

“It’s not a strategy,” I say. “We are really in love.” Then I catch up with what’s she said.

The Thunder Down Under is an Aussie brand of gents’ waxing kits that’s gone viral – DIY scrotal waxing is now mainstream thanks to their videos, all filmed in stunning Australian settings and using all kind of celebs.

I’ve heard they pay good money, but surely Damon would have told me.

Plus their whole brand is about getting smooth for the best sex of your life. Every ad they post looks like an orgy.

“He’s what?” I ask, louder than I would have liked, just as Damon returns and two of the neighbouring tables swivel around, hoping to catch some live reality TV action for their own amusement.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Geraldine rushes over to the next table, all open arms and air kisses.

“Damon?” I demand as he weaves his way back through the crowd towards our table. “Are you fucking off to Australia?”

“I just didn’t want to tell you tonight, on your big night, I thought I’d wait.

But yeah, it’s been confirmed. Ben’s decided to take my image in a different direction, people weren’t responding as well to the whole future family man thing as we’d have liked.

And the leak, well…” He grins, wolfishly.

“The leak showed us how much they like the bad boy thing, so we’ve decided to run with that.

I’m going to be the face of Thunder for a whole year, and it kicks off with six months of me touring Oz as a brand ambassador. ”

I let it sink in. I’d been planning holidays, trips away together, even thinking about asking Damon to move in…

and now he’s going to literally the other side of the world?

It’s like Robbie ditching me all over again.

To lose one boyfriend to Australia might be bad luck…

but two? What is it about me that makes people want to be on the opposite side of the globe?

“But what about us?” I say, hating how whiny my voice sounds, how it takes me back to old Angelica, who let Damon have all of the power.

“Oh sweetheart, nothing has to change with us, this is all a brand deal. I’ll still stay at yours when back home visiting and we can be together.

Ben says the good thing about having a bird in the industry is they get it, all the things you have to do to keep relevant and I just knew you’d understand. ”

He’s putting words in my mouth before I’ve even said them. I shake my head.

“But it won’t be fake, you’ll be getting your back, sack and crack out for hot Aussie girls. And don’t tell me you’ll be able to resist all those women…”

“I’ll try my very best not to, how’s that?” he asks. “Look, I might even put in a word for you with the company – now they’ve seen you’ve shown the goods in the national press, maybe they’ll hire you for their women’s wax and all that.”

Why do I still love this man? I just do, I must do, as the thought of him being away for months has left me reeling.

But how far am I willing to stretch and bend and alter myself to make him not just say he loves me back, but show it.

Act it. But then Leo, the man who really did show me he loved me, in so many different ways, has turned out to be a liar.

Damon may be an utter prick but at least his prickness lies close to the surface, I know where I stand with him, I just have to cling onto the moments when it’s us, alone, nestled in a palace of pillows, laughing about something absurd.