Just the Way You Are Read online

  Again Gemma thought of Thomas as a Sudoku puzzle which she couldn’t solve, but wanted to. At least by discussing this hole in his life she felt she now had a way into it. But before Gemma could reply she was frustratingly interrupted by her sister coming over.

  “Hi Gemma. Everything okay? Where’s Simon?” Victoria trilled, taking in the handsome party guest sitting across from her younger sister.

  “This is Thomas, one of my authors. Thomas, this is Victoria – my sister.”

  Thomas here stood up to greet the sister. Victoria flashed a smile and her blue eyes but Gemma was pleased to see that Thomas could still only muster a half smile. She was also refreshed to note how Thomas’ gaze didn’t linger, or crawl over, her sister.

  “Nice to meet you Victoria. I hope you’re enjoying the party.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’m not sure where Simon is. I’m fine here with Thomas though,” Gemma said to Victoria, with a telling glance.

  Victoria understood and even smiled to herself. She could certainly appreciate how her sister wanted to spend her time with this Thomas over Simon, if looks were anything to go by. And she realised that she wanted her sister to be happy – over Simon, Oliver and even herself.

  “I just thought I’d let you know that we’ll be leaving in half an hour or so. I can arrange a car to take you home, if you want.”

  “It’s fine if you want to head home, but I’ll be having dinner soon with George and some of his friends. I was wondering Gemma, would you like to come as my guest?” Thomas asked his agent, hopeful rather than expectant.

  For once Victoria’s features dropped. For once she would be the one left stranded, as others went off to the next party. For once Victoria felt like the third wheel, as she sensed that her sister and her friend wanted to be left on their own. Her skin somehow seemed less tanned, her hair less glossy. Oliver too would feel a sense of bewilderment and resentment that he was being left out in the cold – and his girlfriend’s plain and nerdy younger sister wasn’t.

  “I’d love to come, thank you,” Gemma answered, finding the glow that Victoria had just lost.

  There was a brief silence between the trio until Victoria excused herself and went off to find Oliver. After suffering a suitable period of shock and confusion Victoria eventually realised that she was, or should be, happy for Gemma – rather than jealous of her. Simon wasn’t good enough for her – and not just because the new Porsche he bought was second-hand. Victoria just hoped that her sister had noticed the wedding ring on the author’s hand.

  Going out with a married man isn’t all sunshine Gemma… I can tell you…

  As soon as Victoria disappeared from their table Gemma found herself hastily explaining that she had only met Simon that evening.

  “He’s not my boyfriend… I’m single,” Gemma said, hoping that Thomas wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Or the right idea.

  But as much as I’m single, he’s married…

  Gemma was again tempted to ask where Thomas’ wife was, but resisted. She never wished ill on anyone but a part of her hoped that, not only would his wife remain absent throughout the evening, but that the couple were experiencing difficulties. If so she would be there for him as a friend, or maybe something more…

  14.

  The director had hired a private dining room, plush with marble and richly varnished oak and teak. Aside from a couple of the producers the people around the table at George Fuller’s dinner were his friends and family. The group were free from preening actors and journalists hungry for a story. Gemma noticed how much Fuller’s family (his parents, brother, sister and grandmother) treated Thomas as one of their family. They ribbed each other and were intimate with each other’s lives, past and present. Thomas laughed and drank freely. At the same time as catching up with the family of his boyhood friend the author spent plenty of time chatting to Gemma, who sat opposite to him. Gemma spoke, or complained about, her sister. Thomas laughed at, rather than condemned, some of the offensive things the former model did and said.

  “She sounds entertaining.”

  Gemma refrained however from criticising Victoria for having an affair with a married man. She also found herself talking about The Incredible Burt Wonderstone and her addiction to Georgette Heyer novels. They spoke about everything and nothing. Thomas listened, entertained… and enamoured.

  And even when they were speaking to others they would both steal glances at each other with wine, warmth and something else in their eyes – until one of them would avert their gaze. Most people around the table thought that they were a couple.

  “Thomas seems to like you. And therefore I like you too, my dear,” George Fuller’s aged, yet spirited, grandmother Doris remarked. She spoke to Gemma about the author as a young man. “He was always running around working, or he would have a book in his hand… He was enthusiastic about everything, wanted to know everything. But he was never a boring know-it-all, like George’s producer friend at the end of the table there… We have a lot to thank Thomas for as he got George interested in books and films. They wanted to improve themselves and they also improved each other…”

  Gemma lapped up every insight and anecdote and considered how different Thomas seemed compared to his younger self. The author now appeared tired and indifferent in the face of life; more than a book, he seemed comfortable with a drink in his hand. Gemma also asked after Doris, who reminded her of her own gran: tough, smart and rightfully concerned that the country had not all changed for the better. She smelled of lavender and her handbag was full of boiled sweet wrappers. She liked a drink – and Gemma accompanied her outside when she needed a cigarette. Doris had grown up in the same street as Michael Caine and, like the actor, spoke fondly of visiting Kennedy’s on the Walworth Road. “They sold the best sausage rolls in London.”

  Despite her grandson offering to buy Doris a small flat in the suburbs she stoutly refused to move. “It’s my home… London is London. People are still people – and the local councils and politicians are still inept and self-righteous prats… Everything changes and everything stays the same… It can be a curse and a blessing but the area’s rich with memories of my late husband… Sometimes grief overwhelms me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way Gemma.”

  In between the first and main courses the host got up to make a short speech. He was playfully heckled throughout but there was quiet when Fuller offered a touching thank you to his parents. “You never gave up on me, which inspired me to not give up on myself…” The director also thanked his oldest friend, Thomas, for helping him with the first draft of the script. When the director mentioned how Thomas had not had the best couple of years Gemma promised herself, even more, that she would help him out of the literary wilderness and secure him a good book deal.

  When Gemma kept Doris company for a second time outside she was joined by George Fuller, who was desperate for a cigarette as well. He was also keen to chat to the woman his friend had invited to dinner at the last moment.

  “So you’re Gemma, Thomas’ new agent? It’ll be mathematically impossible for you to do any worse than his previous agent,” George said, both humorously and in earnest.

  “You never know, I may still surprise you.”

  George laughed in reply. Gemma thought that he looked more like a rogue, or pirate, than an award-winning film maker.

  “I can see why Tom invited you to dinner.”

  “Have you not invited anyone? I could have always called my flat mate Abbie. She has a crush on you.”

  “I could easily cure her of that by having her get to know me… I should have asked your sister to dinner though. She could do a lot better in regards to who she’s currently seeing.” Again a serious note crept into his playful tone.

  “But you must barely know her.”

  “But I know Oliver. I would say that he has the morals of a snake, except that it would be more accurate to say that he has the morals of a lawyer.”

  It was Gemma’s tu
rn to laugh.

  “From what Abbie says it’s unlikely that you’d need my help inviting anyone to dinner,” Gemma said, with an askance glance conveying that she knew something of the director’s womanising reputation.

  “Believe it or not my dates usually come about through the publicists and agents of various models and actresses calling me up. Apparently by being seen out with me – and they call up tabloid photographers to say where we’ll be – it adds intellectual credibility to their brand… It’s difficult finding someone I genuinely want to spend the night with, and spend the morning after with too. Let alone spend the rest of my life with… Marriage is a life sentence – and I still haven’t found anyone I’d be willing to share a cell with for that length of time.”

  As much as Gemma felt entertained by the famous director – and she thought she might wake up Abbie when she got home to report upon her “glamorous” evening – her thoughts turned to Thomas again. Did he feel like his marriage was now a prison sentence?

  A chill evening breeze gave her goose pimples, or maybe thinking about Thomas inspired them. A steady stream of revellers exited the club – giggling, bleary-eyed and hoping to be photographed by the paparazzi. Yet to Gemma they appeared like ghosts, insubstantial, compared to Thomas. He was real. She wanted to go upstairs and see him again. She wanted to hear his voice. She wanted him…

  *

  “Thank you for inviting me to dinner this evening. It’s been great fun,” Gemma said to Thomas, the chocolate dessert she had recently finished still making love to her stomach.

  “It’s been my pleasure Gemma.”

  “You’ve not once asked me about the responses to the proposal. It must be a first for an author sitting with their agent.”

  “I trust that you’re doing a good job.”

  “I want to prove myself to you,” Gemma replied, not knowing if she was just referring to working as an agent.

  “You already have Gemma. Just remember that you’re more than the sum of solely being a literary agent. It’s what you do, it’s not who you are.”

  “And who am I?”

  “Someone worth proving myself to.”

  Gemma swayed into Thomas, rather than away from him, as they stood on the street whilst George Fuller arranged a number of cars for his family. She clasped his arm briefly. Partly she did so to keep her balance. Partly she wanted to touch him. Drink loosened her inhibitions – but something else did too.

  But he’s married. You promised yourself long ago that you wouldn’t get involved with anyone who was already involved in a relationship… Nothing good can come from this… I shouldn’t go with him if he invites me to share a cab… If he says anything, or tries to kiss me, I should say that I like him but we need to maintain a professional relationship…

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, from nerves or desire – or both. Goosebumps prickled upon Gemma’s skin again and she shivered slightly.

  Thomas was a patchwork of adoration and anxiety. One moment he would gaze at Gemma with a look of love but the next his expression would be filled with tension. For once the author didn’t look either tired or indifferent.

  Cabs rattled on the side of the street. The few paparazzi left on the scene occasionally lit up the street or hollered at a minor celebrity to strike a pose. Various people hugged and said their goodbyes for the evening around them. A police siren sounded in the distance, gunning its way up Shaftesbury Avenue. Loud, inane phone calls were made. Doris let off one last cackle and swear word.

  But all this fell into the shadows for Gemma and Thomas. There was just the two of them. “There are moments in your life when you know that you are having a moment,” Gemma’s mother had once told her. And Gemma now believed her. Gemma’s heart was beating so much it was as though she had finally discovered that she had a heart – and what it was capable of.

  Thomas noticed Gemma shivering slightly and immediately took off his jacket.

  “Here, take this. Sometimes an author needs to take care of his literary agent, rather than the other way around.”

  Gemma noticed his broad chest and strong shoulders through his shirt. He clasped her by the arms. Partly he fixed the coat around her. Partly he wanted to touch her. She stared up at his dark eyes – searching for his intentions.

  She did and she didn’t want to ask him about his wife and the state of his marriage. She did and she didn’t want a want a one night stand. She did and she didn’t want to kiss him. Gemma strangely thought how she wished her sister could have been there, to ask her advice.

  Gemma would later be unsure as to whether Thomas pulled her towards him or if she moved towards Thomas. But the result was the same. They kissed. She wanted to say “we shouldn’t”, but she didn’t. Her body briefly went limp but then quickly came alive, taut with desire. He was strong but gentle. She lost herself in the moment and found a new moment all at the same time. But Thomas suddenly pulled away.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m still in love with my wife,” he uttered, aghast at himself. He looked apologetic. The sorry expression was for both Gemma and his wife. Thomas winced, as if the sense of guilt was so potent as to cause him physical pain.

  Gemma now knew she had a heart – because it cracked.

  Both Thomas and Gemma knew they wanted to say something, they just didn’t know what. The kiss still lingered on her lips. He still smelled her perfume. They could still taste each other.

  “Your cars are here,” George Fuller remarked, siding up to the pair and laying a fraternal hand on Thomas’ shoulder. As tense as the atmosphere was between Gemma and Thomas they both felt that the director may have rescued them from a far more awkward moment.

  Gemma gave Thomas his jacket back, thanking him once more. She also thanked George, before climbing into the back of the car. Some may have considered Gemma merely drunk, such was the vacant or distressed look on her face. But Thomas knew differently. He wanted to say something but didn’t. She wanted to cry but didn’t – until the car turned the corner.

  *

  Her head throbbed because of the wine. Her heart ached because of Thomas. And she felt sick to the stomach, because of both. For most of the journey home Gemma buried her chin into her chest as the car wended its way through London. The driver had taken enough distraught girls home to know that he should only speak if spoken to. She finally raised her head as they passed over Battersea Bridge. The glassy Thames gleamed in the moonlight and the night was studded with various ruby, amber and emerald lights from the offices and apartments along the river. In a parallel universe Thomas would have been enjoying the scene too, as he sat next to Gemma and held her hand. Parallel universes are always happy, distant places. She consoled herself with the beauty of the view – and other thoughts.

  I would have thought less of him if he cheated on his wife… I don’t want to be the cause or victim of any unfaithfulness… It’s good that nothing happened. We looked before we leaped and stepped back from the cliff’s edge. Didn’t we? We can still maintain a professional relationship of agent and author. That’s the most important thing…

  But Gemma still wished that he wasn’t married, or at the very least that he didn’t love his wife. But why was he without her tonight? Neither Thomas nor anyone else had mentioned her.

  Is there still a chance?

  When Gemma got home she slumped onto the bed, buried her tear-soaked face into the pillow and tucked her legs up in the foetal position. She received a text message. She hoped it was him, but it was just her sister. Victoria asked if Gemma had reached home okay. Gemma considered that the message was a veiled attempt to discover if she was spending the night with Thomas.

  Rather than reply to her sister Gemma sent a message to Daniel. Out of a sense of loneliness, or maybe as an act of revenge against Thomas, she asked if her ex-boyfriend would be free to have dinner next week. Gemma told herself that she didn’t want Thomas, she just wanted someone. Anyone.

  15.

  Sunday


  “And how was Thursday evening? Victoria says you met somebody who you knew. An author? She said he was quite handsome,” Margaret Miller remarked, serving up some smoked salmon, new potatoes and salad to her daughter. In exchange for food Margaret wanted Gemma to feed her some gossip. Or some hope that her youngest daughter could find a new boyfriend. She had liked Daniel and could never quite understand why Gemma didn’t settle down with him. Mother and daughter sat in the shade beneath a large umbrella in the garden of the Miller family home. Sparrows and robin redbreasts darted about in the background, some heading for the bird table, some cooling down in the bird bath.

  Gemma felt slightly sorry for her mother in that the highlight of her week seemed to be a visit from her daughter and the supply of some idle gossip. She couldn’t help but feel a lack of respect for her too, for the same reason. Ever since her daughters had left home there had been a void in Margaret Miller’s life, which no amount of gossip, WI meetings or shopping trips could fill. Gemma thought that her mother looked good for her age and she still had plenty of energy, though most of it was nervous energy. Margaret fussed over her youngest daughter, wanting her to be happy. As a mother, or host, she felt purposeful again.

  Margaret Miller wore a violet and white floral dress and a string of pearls around her neck, accompanied by an oversized black belt and heels which were as high as they were painful to wear. Gemma figured that half the outfit had been picked out by her mother – and half by her sister.

  Gemma had decided to visit her parents in order to help take her mind off Thomas and the events of Thursday evening. But, even in Hampshire, she couldn’t escape certain unpleasant memories.

  On the Friday morning she had received a text message from Daniel, saying that he would like to meet up too. They later spoke on the phone and arranged a dinner date. Gemma said, to Daniel and herself, that they would just be meeting as friends. But…