Page 6 of The Lavender Bride

5

Rex Trent and Tony Young spent Thanksgiving weekend in Malibu. The pair stayed at the exclusive Malibu Beach Colony, hideout of many a movie star seeking privacy and seclusion.

EYEWITNESS , DECEMBER 1951

I enjoy the parade and return home with a roll of film to develop. As I cook scrambled eggs on the hotplate, my mind wanders to the man I met earlier. Who was he? In retrospect, I agree with Ginny; it was a mistake not to find out his name. I run through the few things I know about him but they don’t add up. Some people, like Dan, fit perfectly into a mould. This man was a bundle of contradictions and doesn’t fit at all. He was unconventionally dressed even for California. He clearly knew something about photography but didn’t talk about his own work. He’d been part of a bomber crew and yet didn’t want me to think him brave.

That evening, when I’m curled up in bed ready for sleep, it’s not Rex’s face I see but the mystery man from the Chinese Theatre. It was so nice to talk to him. He spent time in England, he understands photography. For the brief minutes that we chatted, I felt I didn’t have to pretend. With him, it was all right to be a camera obsessive even though I am a woman, to admit that I do sometimes get homesick. I wonder what he would have said if Ginny hadn’t arrived when she did. I felt he understood. He, too, has been far from home.

As I fall asleep, I picture him in his American Air Force uniform. His hair is shorter, his cap angled over one eye. Maybe he went to dances and jived with Land Girls like Esther. Maybe he fell in love with one, married her and brought her over as a GI bride.

With that, I punch my pillow, turn over and conjure up Rex’s smiling face.

* * *

I spend Thanksgiving day at Ginny’s parents in Pasadena. It’s wonderful to be part of such a warm, funny family who all seem devoted to each other. I’m sad to leave and return to the silence of my little apartment. That weekend, I see An American in Paris with Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron and absolutely love it.

The newsreel before the picture shows the latest hearings of the HUAC. A succession of witnesses: actors and actresses, screenwriters, directors, producers are called before the Committee and asked the same question: ‘Are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?’ Witnesses who refuse to answer may end up in prison like the Hollywood Ten (a group of ten screenwriters and directors who refused to cooperate with the Committee and ended up imprisoned for contempt of Congress). Admitting you were once a member puts you instantly on the blacklist and out of work. Worse for some than unemployment is that they’ll be asked to name the names of subversives. Failure to do that can again lead to the blacklist. It’s a witch hunt, pure and simple, and it makes me even more furious with Senator McCarthy who’s still waving his list of Commies around Washington DC.

Dirk and I never do discuss my role at the agency. It makes me a trifle resentful that he held out that hope and then whisked it away. I keep on typing letters and making his coffee just as he likes it but with a heavier heart. Dirk regularly asks me to buy Eyewitness and I always flip through it before I put it on his desk. One week, there are photos of Rex strolling down the street in Malibu with Tony Young. I’m relieved that he was away with a friend and not a glamorous starlet like I’d feared.

* * *

On the first Saturday in December, I visit the Alpha Beta grocery store in my neighbourhood. As well as my own groceries, I select tins to send to Esther. I send a food parcel every couple of months and always select things we couldn’t get in England during the war (like tinned pineapple) or that are still on the ration (Bill has a taste for corned beef). This one will go with their Christmas presents and provide a few treats for the Christmas period.

With two bags full of groceries, I turn in to the Five and Dime store. This is my first Christmas in my own place and I want to make it as splendid as my tight finances will allow. I’m still counting the cents after splurging on the evening dress. Rita has invited me to join her family for Christmas Day, which I’m looking forward to. It’ll be amazing to experience an authentic Californian family Christmas.

I pick out a handful of decorations which sparkle with glitter but won’t break the bank. Next weekend, I’ll get a tree even if it’s tiny.

I’m making my way through the other shoppers when a deep male voice says, ‘Audrey?’

My heart leaps. I’d know that voice anywhere. I turn and see only a shirt front, but when I look up, I see Rex smiling down at me. ‘I thought that was you,’ he says. ‘What are you buying?’

‘Just a few decorations,’ I manage to say. My heart is galloping. It’s so unexpected to see him here. He looks utterly out of place among the mops, washing lines and plastic cups. But it’s also lousy because I look a fright. I have no make-up on, my hair (recently cut à la Leslie Caron) needs a wash and I’m wearing a shapeless old cardigan that came from England with me. I’ve broken every one of Rita’s rules because I never dreamed I’d see Rex Trent in the Five and Dime store.

‘You know Tony?’ Rex gestures to the man standing beside him. Tony Young is a good-looking guy with tousled, blond hair and razor-sharp cheekbones but Rex outshines him like the sun next to the moon.

‘Nice to see you.’ As I turn to him, I remember that he was booked to see a talent scout at Universal this week. ‘How did you get on at your screen test?’

He frowns. ‘He told me it’s a shame I don’t dance like Ida and I should take more acting lessons.’

‘That’s good news,’ I say, repeating the words I’ve heard Dirk say a hundred times. ‘They only say that if they think you’ve got potential.’

‘Thank you, Audrey. That’s what I’ve been telling him, but he won’t listen to me.’ Rex nudges his friend, who shoots him a look I can’t interpret. They’re clearly thick as thieves and that makes a flare of jealousy shoot through me.

Rex turns back to me and gifts me with one of his heavenly smiles. ‘I’m glad I bumped into you. I owe you dinner and dancing.’

My heart does a little bounce of excitement. So he’s not forgotten! My grin splits my face until I remember Rita’s rules about not looking too keen and rein it in a little.

‘I think it was only dinner but I’d love to go dancing too.’

‘Swell!’ Rex beams as if I’ve bestowed a wonderful gift on him. ‘I’ll ring you on Monday.’

I see Tony’s eyes narrow as I say goodbye to them both. I don’t know why it bothers him that Rex has just asked me out but it dims my delighted grin a little.

I contain my excitement until I’ve paid for my decorations and left the store. When I’m on the pavement, I spin round, tilting my head up to the overcast sky as my bags of shopping spin out.

He’s going to take me dancing! He’s glad he bumped into me! He’s going to call! I hear footsteps approaching and hastily come to an ungainly stop, the shopping colliding painfully with my legs.

As I walk home, I’m planning what he’ll say and what I’ll reply and, by the time I reach my front door, I’m imagining us dancing. I’m humming ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ as I turn the key in the lock.

After I’ve put my groceries away, I open the wardrobe door and yank the Saks bag out. Beneath the yards of snowy tissue paper, the dress is a little creased but otherwise just as beautiful. I hang it on a padded hanger and line my dress shoes up beneath it.

When Rex rings, I’ll be ready.

* * *

He doesn’t call on Monday. Or Tuesday. My heart leaps every time the telephone rings and I endure the piercing disappointment each time the caller turns out to be somebody else. By Wednesday, I’ve given up hope.

It hurts to be lifted each time I see him and then sink into despair when he doesn’t call. My life feels like the rollercoaster ride on Santa Monica pier. Ginny’s witnessed my ups and downs and keeps telling me to forget about Rex but that would feel like giving up in so many different ways.

Especially as Rex seemed genuinely pleased to see me on Saturday. What’s changed between then and now? Is he too busy? Is that why he finds it difficult to remember to call when he said he would?

The telephone rings just as I’m getting ready to go out for lunch. I snatch it up and am stunned when his deep voice says, ‘Hey, Audrey! How do you feel about dinner and dancing tomorrow night?’

My heart soars. He didn’t forget! He was pleased to see me on Saturday, and he actually wants to take me out. However, Rita’s warned me not to sound too eager. I’ve got to make him believe I’ve other men queueing up to take me out. ‘I’m busy tomorrow but I’m free on Friday.’

I hold my breath, feeling a little sick. If he’s busy on Friday, I’ll kick myself. Please, please…

‘Sure, Friday’s fine. Is Romanoff’s okay?’

My breath catches. Romanoff’s is the fanciest place in town. ‘Absolutely,’ I manage to say.

‘I’ll book a table,’ Rex says, clearly unaware that I’m too stunned to speak. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven. I’ve got your address.’ With that, he’s gone and I’m left staring at the handset.

‘What is it?’ Ginny asks. ‘Not bad news?’

I shake my head. ‘It was Rex,’ I say, my voice breathy with astonishment. ‘He’s asked me to go dancing on Friday evening at Romanoff’s.’

‘Golly! I take it all back. He must really like you if he’s taking you to Romanoff’s. Now you finally get to wear that beautiful blue gown.’

I look at her with wide eyes. What if I’m not suitably dressed? What if everyone else is in taffeta and furs? ‘Is it all right for Romanoff’s?’ I do the mental maths to see if I can run to a new frock but it’s impossible. I simply can’t afford anything else.

‘It’ll be perfect.’ Ginny leans forward, her bust resting on her typewriter. ‘But if you’re worried, I’ll lend you my velvet stole. It’ll go nicely with that blue.’

I thank her and try to get back to work but I’m hopelessly distracted. The only thing I can think of is Rex. What he’ll say, what he’ll wear, what we’ll eat.

When Dirk emerges from his office, he says, ‘You look a lot happier than you did an hour ago.’

‘Rex called.’ I grin up at him. ‘We’re going to Romanoff’s on Friday night.’

‘Hallelujah!’ he says, which seems like an odd response. I didn’t realise he cared so much about my love life.

* * *

Thursday and Friday pass in a paroxysm of anxiety. Every time the phone rings, I expect it to be Rex calling to cancel. But he doesn’t and on the dot of seven on Friday evening, there’s a knock on my door.

I’m ready. I’m wearing the beautiful dress with a crinoline petticoat beneath to make the skirts stand out. My legs are encased in the sheerest nylons I’ve ever worn. Ginny’s white, velvet evening stole is around my shoulders. My hair is styled like Leslie Caron and my make-up is impeccable.

I wish Freddie could see me all dressed up ready to go on a date with a movie star. Exactly as I said I would!

I hop from foot to foot for ten seconds so I don’t seem too eager. Inside, I’m a mass of nerves. What if I muck it up? What if I can’t think of anything to say or say the wrong thing? What if I let him down by not knowing how to behave at a fancy joint like Romanoff’s?

I open the door. Rex fills the doorway in his dark-blue suit paired with a pale-blue tie. He smiles at me shyly. ‘You sure look pretty.’

‘Thank you. You look very nice too.’ Then I don’t know what else to say. In my daydreams, the conversation has always flowed effortlessly but faced with him, I feel awkward and gauche. What do I, Audrey Wade, from Sheffield have to say to a film star?

‘Shall we?’ he says as he offers me his arm. Oh, my giddy aunt, I actually get to touch him! I’m painfully self-conscious, aware of every inch of him as I slip my hand into place. There’s pure muscle beneath the fabric of his suit.

‘I’m sorry this has taken so long,’ he says as we walk down the stairs. ‘It’s been a whirlwind since I got back from France.’

There’s a sky-blue Buick convertible parked at the kerb. Is that Rex’s? My eyes widen as he opens the off-side door for me. It is and I’m going to ride in it to the restaurant! This may be the most exciting moment of my entire life. If Freddie could see me now, going to Romanoff’s with a movie star in a swanky convertible that gleams with chrome.

For a second, it feels hollow without him. The friends I have here don’t understand me as Freddie did. They didn’t endure six long years of wartime privations in Britain. For Ginny and Rita, the movies are simply entertainment. For Freddie and me, they were a lifeline. A promise that a different world existed and that we could escape our narrow-minded parents and the suffocating world we lived in.

‘Have you been to Romanoff’s?’ Rex asks as we drive down Wilshire Blvd.

I nearly smile. What kind of salary does he think Dirk pays me? ‘No, never. This is a proper—’ I kick myself for the slip into Yorkshire ‘—real treat for me.’

He takes his eyes off the road to glance briefly at me. He makes driving look effortless. One hand on the wheel, his other resting along the door frame. ‘They say the guy who owns it is a Russian prince.’

My eyes widen. I read about the Romanovs at school and it really didn’t end well for the Russian royal family. ‘I thought they all died during the Russian Revolution.’

Rex huffs out a breath. ‘Who told you that?’

I open my mouth to say, Miss Cook, my history teacher , but then I close it again. He sounds offended that I’ve doubted him. Father always said men didn’t want women who were burdened with brains. ‘I can’t remember,’ I murmur. ‘I might have got it wrong.’

‘I hope he’s there tonight. He’s a real crazy guy. He lets his dogs eat at the table with him with napkins and everything.’

‘Gracious!’ I bite my bottom lip to keep from saying anything more. Romanoff’s feels rather less glamorous now I know the fellow diners include dogs.

We turn onto South Rodeo Drive. It’s easy to spot the restaurant as it has a pink wall with a large sign with the distinctive double R logo. There are a few couples waiting to go in and I hastily scan the women’s clothes to see if I’m suitably dressed. My frock seems to fit the bill. I’m grateful for Ginny’s stole as they’re all wearing furs or evening capes.

A parking valet takes the keys. Rex takes my arm again. In my daydreams, there’s always been a shiver as we touched but I don’t feel anything. Maybe it’s because I’m a bag of nerves.

We walk up the wide steps and past the couples waiting to get in. I glance at them to see if they’re offended by us jumping the queue. ‘Golly, is that Rex Trent?’ I hear a lady whisper to her husband. I glance behind me; she’s staring at me with no attempt to conceal her interest. I feel elated, and a wave of mischief washes over me. I wink at her as if to say, Yes, I’m the one with the movie star, lady . She turns away, hiding her face behind her clutch bag.

The ma?tre d’ welcomes Rex like an old friend and I press my clammy hand against the fabric of my frock. My petticoat rustles as we cross the floor and the carpet is so plush, my heels sink into it. We’re shown to a single booth in the dining room. The tablecloth is snowy linen with an arrangement of pink roses and white carnations in the centre of it. The waiter is as perfectly attired as Jeeves and he hands me a velvet-covered menu with the same double ‘R’ logo embossed on it.

I am relieved that the menu is principally in English, although there’s the odd French word thrown in there. It includes frogs’ legs which I’ve no intention of trying. ‘What do you recommend?’ I ask Rex.

He looks pleased that I’ve asked. ‘The Waldorf salad for starter. Then I always have the fillet mignon which is a fancy way of saying steak. The chocolate souffle is legendary. You’ve got to have that.’

Having lived on miniscule amounts of meat back in England, fillet steak always seems overly extravagant to me. How can one person eat all of that at one time? It would have fed a family back home.

I take Rex’s advice on the Waldorf salad and the souffle but settle on the salmon for my main course. Rex orders for me and once the waiter has departed, I look at him expectantly. He stares blankly at his hands. I smooth my linen napkin over my skirt and wait, thinking he’ll speak but he doesn’t. On the stage across the dancefloor, the band is playing ‘The Way You Look Tonight’, yet the silence between us stretches until it is uncomfortable. I have to say something but what?

The moment of mischief I felt as we entered has gone. I feel completely out of my depth in this world of privilege and elegance. Will everyone know I’m only a secretary? That I have no right to be here?

I glance around the other booths. I’m not the youngest diner but the girls younger than me are with their parents, laughing and talking as though they have been born to this life. I feel like an interloper. I stare at the array of perfectly polished cutlery in front of me and remember Ginny’s advice: ‘Work from the outside in.’

If only Rex would say something. I fidget with my watch, turning it round and round on my wrist. My doubts multiply. I bet the starlets he usually dates don’t struggle to find things to say. They’re not gauche and embarrassed as I am.

The waiter brings the wine and offers it to Rex to taste. He gives it a perfunctory sip and then nods. Glasses are poured for both of us. I take a sip to ease my dry throat. As the waiter walks away, Rex leans closer to me and says, ‘I never know what to say when they offer me the wine. I don’t know a good one from a bad one.’

So he feels awkward here too! It’s such a relief to know I’m not alone. ‘I’ve never been anywhere this ritzy,’ I confess. ‘I had to get Ginny to tell me which cutlery to use.’

‘Oh, I know that one.’ His large hands fan over the silverware. ‘Dirk taught me.’

That makes me blink. It’s hard to imagine my boss taking the time to instil manners in his clients.

‘Have you been with the agency for a long time?’ I knot my hands in my lap to stop myself from fiddling with the smallest fork.

‘I came to Los Angeles after I left the Navy.’ He knocks back half of his glass of wine in one gulp. ‘I did all the stuff everyone does who wants to get into the movies. I took acting lessons, put together a resume, got headshots done and sent them to every studio and agency in town. Dirk took me on when no one else would give me the time of day. I owe him a lot.’

‘How did you get your break?’ I’ve read about it in the magazines but I’ve been in Hollywood long enough to know those stories are often cooked up by the studios’ publicity departments.

‘The first screen test I did was for Crown and I froze. I was sure I’d blown it.’ Rex takes a second gulp of wine as if to drown the memory and then tops up his glass. ‘Then the camera guy said he’d forgot to put the film in the camera. I was so relieved, I felt lightheaded. The talent scout said, “Go again,” and this time, I could do it. It was as if the relief had kicked out the nerves. I nailed the lines, hit my mark and remembered to look at the camera for the close-up. Crown signed me a week later.’

‘You must have been really great,’ I say. ‘Dirks says Harry King only wants the brightest and the best.’

‘Crown’s been good to me.’ Rex drinks more wine. He seems more relaxed now. Whatever was bothering him earlier seems to have disappeared. ‘They’ve worked real hard to build my career.’

‘And it’s paying off.’ I lean forward. ‘You’ve got top billing in Sealed with a Kiss .’

‘Equal billing.’ Rex shakes his head ruefully. ‘Brenda’s agent wouldn’t agree to anything else.’

Again, I feel like I’ve put my foot in it. ‘Are you looking forward to getting started?’ I know from all the letters I’ve typed that principal photography begins in January.

‘Sure. It’s a swell script by Marie Calvez. She’s one of the best scriptwriters in the business. The Agnes Carlyle series was a big hit for Ransome and she wrote for Aidan Neil and Dinah Doyle in the thirties.’

‘Oh! I loved those films.’ I clap my hands together. ‘I used to go to the matinee every Saturday with my friend Freddie and the Neil and Doyle musicals were our favourites.’

Saying Freddie’s name in these surroundings feels strange. In my dreams, our younger daughter was called Dinah. I shake my head to try to shift the wash of sadness. I can’t think of that now. This is my new life. The one he chose not to be a part of.

‘You’d like Marie,’ Rex adds, nudging me gently. ‘She’s got no time for McCarthy either. She was part of the Committee for the First Amendment and went to Washington DC with them in ’47.’

The Committee for the First Amendment were a group of high-profile actors, screenwriters and directors who objected to the investigation by the House Un-American Activity Committee into Communist propaganda and influences in Hollywood and supported the Hollywood Ten. Although Senator McCarthy is not a member of the House Un-American Activity Committee, he’s the one who lit the blue touch paper by going around saying he’d got a list of Communists living in America.

‘Good for her.’ It’s great to hear about someone who was brave enough to stand up against McCarthy. ‘But I heard lots of the Committee were penalised and ended up on the blacklist anyway.’

Suspicion in Hollywood circles has reached such a fevered state that even being part of the Committee for the First Amendment has ended some careers. Others, like Humphrey Bogart, have had to make very public statements that they’re not a Communist.

‘Other studios might have fired her for it but Leo Ransome’s too smart to lose one of his best writers.’ Rex stares into his wine glass before his gaze rises to meet mine. ‘I admire her for speaking out and damning the consequences. I wish I was that brave.’

I stare at him, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his arms. He’s physically a hundred times stronger than me but is he trying to tell me that inside, he’s a coward? That he’d testify against his colleagues as others have done in order to save their own careers? Something stirs in the pit of my stomach, an uncomfortable emotion that I can’t define.

I know all too well the dangers of not standing up to a bully like McCarthy. You end up trapped and voiceless. I can’t believe Rex wants that. He must simply not understand what’s at stake. ‘I think you’d do the right thing.’ My chin comes up as my voice rises. ‘No one wants to be pushed into a corner but, if that happened, I think you’d come out fighting.’

‘Thank you, Audrey.’ He smiles that million-dollar smile and my heart gives a little flip. ‘I like that you have faith in me.’

Our Waldorf salads arrive and as I carefully pick up the smallest knife and fork, Rex winks at me. As we eat, he talks about his time in France filming The Three Musketeers . He makes me laugh with an anecdote about getting lost driving around the Loire Valley and ending up at a vineyard where he drank so much wine, the owner had to drive him back to his hotel. Before our desserts arrive, I’m surprised to see him order another bottle of wine. I’m only on my second glass. He tops his glass up but I shake my head when he offers to do mine. I rarely drink wine and I’m already feeling pleasantly relaxed.

As we eat the chocolate souffles (which are just as incredible as he promised) I ask him about his travels in Europe and he tells me how much he enjoyed Italy.

‘The Italians understand how to live,’ he says. ‘I wish I could live there.’

It took me so long to get to Hollywood, it seems impossible anyone would want to leave. ‘Aren’t you happy here?’ I ask.

Rex looks down at his empty dish for a long moment. I bite my lip. Have I been rude? Is that a question I shouldn’t have asked?

‘I’m living the life I dreamed of when I was growing up,’ he says slowly, still not looking at me. ‘I’m a movie star. I live in a swell house. I get to take pretty girls out to Romanoff’s.’

He doesn’t sound happy about it, though. Is he like me and finds reality doesn’t quite match up to his dreams? Can even movie stars be disappointed?

Then he scoots to the end of the booth and stands. He towers over me as he holds out his hand. With the light behind him, for a brief second, his handsome features look anguished. Then he smiles and says, ‘I did promise you dancing as well.’

I put my hand in his. Touching him feels comfortable and easy. Disappointingly, there’s still no pulse of awareness.

Rex leads me through the other dancers. I feel eyes on us as we cross the floor. I wonder how many of the women are wondering who this unknown girl is with Rex Trent. I square my shoulders and keep my head up. No one knows I’m just a secretary from Sheffield. This magnificent man has chosen me as his date and that gives me confidence to face the stares.

The band starts playing ‘A String of Pearls’. I’ve dreamed of this moment, how my heart will flutter as his arms come round me, how he’ll smile down at me and I’ll see in his eyes how much he cares. But he doesn’t look at me and my heartbeat doesn’t react at all. Is it because I’m nervous? Is that why I’m not feeling the things I’m supposed to feel?

He’s so much taller than me that it’s difficult to maintain ballroom hold. My left hand doesn’t reach his shoulder but has settled in the middle of his extremely toned upper arm. It’s disconcerting to look up and only see his square-cut jaw. His lead is assured and it’s easy to follow him. I try to relax but I’m worried about doing it wrong. I don’t want to stand on his perfectly polished toes in front of all of these people. That would be humiliating.

We dance a waltz and another foxtrot. He chats a little between songs, telling me about his mum teaching him to dance when he was a boy. I relax a little but not enough to really enjoy it. As the band switches to a quickstep, Rex leads me back to our table. I’m smoothing my skirts out when he says, ‘Shall we go?’

I stare at him with wide eyes. Already? It’s barely ten o’clock. No one leaves a date this early unless it’s been a disaster. Have I done something wrong? Should I have talked less or laughed louder at his jokes?

‘I’ve got to be up early in the morning,’ he adds.

‘Of course,’ I murmur politely because that’s what the woman must do. She’s been invited by the man. If he wishes to leave early, she has no choice but to agree. I gather up Ginny’s wrap and my evening bag.

He summons a waiter and requests the bill which he pays with an obscenely large pile of notes. Rex doesn’t speak as we walk back through the restaurant. My heart sinks. Somehow, I’ve messed this up. My one chance at dating a movie star and it’s ending in a silence I don’t understand.

Heads swivel in our direction as we pass. Are they wondering why we’re leaving early? Will the gossip tomorrow be that our date wasn’t a success?

As we wait for the valet to bring round the car, I glance up at him. His face is closed off, his eyes downcast, his magnificent shoulders slumped. Freddie’s moods could switch like this. One moment, he’d be buzzing with energy and ideas, then darkness would sweep over him and he’d retreat from me. It puzzled and frustrated me as we were growing up. I used to ask myself time and again what I’d done to upset him. It was only much later that I worked out what caused it.

But that can’t possibly be the case with Rex. I’ve read the magazines, I’ve seen the photographs of him with starlets. He must just be tired, that’s all. He’s got an early start in the morning. That prompts me to ask, ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

‘Tony and I are going back to Malibu.’ He grins. ‘We’d originally planned to go tonight but I put it on hold for our date.’

I stare at his face. He looks happier than he’s done all evening. And that’s at the thought of spending time with Tony. An evening out with me at this beautiful restaurant with music and dancing hasn’t lit him up like that. Is there something between him and Tony?

Then I shake my head. No, I’m being an idiot. It’s because I was thinking of Freddie that I’ve put two and two together and made one hundred and nineteen. Rex has dated plenty of women. I know because I’ve seen the photographs and been speared with jealousy. I’m imagining things because this evening has not been the success I hoped for.

I rub my hand across my chest. I had one shot at a date with a movie star and I’ve blown it. Freddie was right; my dreams are childish. I’m not glamorous or pretty enough to date a film star. One evening out doesn’t count. He has to ask you out multiple times to be dating and Rex isn’t going to do that with me.

I’ll never get another chance like this. I’ve come all this way, left everything I know behind for the dream of a life in Hollywood and I’ve failed. Tears prickle behind my eyes. I’ll have to do what Ginny keeps telling me and meet a nice, normal guy. But how do I settle for normal after experiencing a night as exquisite as this?

When the car pulls up outside my apartment, I wait until Rex comes round and opens my door.

‘Thank you for an enchanting evening,’ he says as he takes my hand.

I blink at him in confusion. He’s barely spoken for the last twenty minutes. How does that qualify as enchanting?

‘Goodnight, Audrey.’ His lips brush my cheek. A feather-light touch and then he’s heading down the stairs. ‘I’ll call you,’ he says over his shoulder.

I stand and watch him go, my fingers pressed against the skin he’s just kissed. Rex Trent has kissed me! Okay, not on the lips so it’s not exactly as I dreamed. But it’s a start. He must have enjoyed the evening or he wouldn’t have kissed me. Would he?

I take my key from my bag and open the door. And he’ll call and we’ll go out again and next time, it will be absolutely perfect.