‘I’m good.’ Alicia sipped her wine for courage. ‘Listen, Jamie, there’s something I need to say.’ She wished she’d said this earlier so the meal could be as relaxing as possible. There was no need for this to be a big deal, but it was becoming one in her head. If Alicia revealed she was famous, Jamie might get star-struck and stop acting naturally with her. She suspected he wasn’t the star-struck type, but what might happen later bothered her, what he might find on the internet: all the stories, the scandal. The pictures. Then the cosy little snow globe that she was living in at this hotel, in this lodge with the fire crackling, reassuring red wine in hand, a blanket of fresh snow providing a barrier between here and the real world, would be smashed open and never put together again.
‘Sure. Go ahead.’ Jamie swirled the wine in his glass, the red matching the burgundy of his plaid shirt, rolled up to reveal those solid forearms again. She should be thinking only of things like Jamie’s arms. Why did she have to worry about being famous, being ashamed of who she was? He wasn’t ashamed of himself. He was just sitting, patiently waiting for her to speak to him, being relaxed and comfortable in his own skin.
Did it matter, anyway? Why was she jumping the gun and acting like they were going to be in a relationship? Theycould have some fun and not know each other inside out. Isn’t that what Jamie wanted? But Alicia wasn’t that kind of person and if he wasn’t either then she risked losing him by lying when the opportunity to be truthful was right in front of her. Also, if she didn’t tell him who she was, she had no way of knowing if she should sleep with him or not. Because the measure of whether she should, would be in how he reacted to her revelation. God, this was complicated. And sometimes with complicated things, you had to take the plunge.
‘So, you know what that guy Dean said down in the sauna?’ Alicia watched the wine in Jamie’s glass steady itself and tried to do the same with her nerves.
‘Aye. You been worrying about it? You shouldn’t waste a minute of your time on that arse, whatever he said. So, we had a wee kiss. Who’s he to judge either of us?’
‘Yes, but he wasn’t judging you, Jamie. He was judging me and the reason why is what I need to tell you.’
‘Okay.’ Jamie swigged some wine. Something about the casualness of his response terrified Alicia even more. If she was over thinking the level of honesty required here, she’d look like a proper fool. He might even laugh at her and say that she should never have felt obliged to tell him.
‘I… Um?—’
‘It’s okay. If you feel awkward, then don’t explain. I think I might understand, anyway.’
‘Huh?’What’s he about to say? That he already knows what I look like naked, how I show myself in the most intimate way to those I think I can trust? Oh God! I should be entitled to the dignity of revealing myself when I choose to.‘What do you understand?’ she asked, her teeth seriously on edge.
‘I said Imightunderstand. Maybe that youarefamous?Youarea model. I’m not exactly in touch with the celebrity world so it could have escaped me, but it would explain other people’s reactions.’
Alicia pursed her lips to stop her teeth setting off. Jamie knew but didn’t know. That was good and not good.
‘I’m right?’ he asked.
This moment had to come eventually, but Alicia wanted to avoid it for as long as possible – to live in a bubble of anonymity and innocence. ‘Kind of. Not really. Ish,’ she said.
‘“Ish” tells me something but not much.’ Jamie smiled in such an arresting way that it caught her off guard and the words spilled out of her mouth.
‘I’m a former model.’
He nodded, his wine glass meeting his lips once more. ‘Well that makes sense.’
This understated reaction told Alicia nothing whatsoever. As Jamie swallowed and searched her face, time slowed down and she grasped for something to cling onto. She registered every nuance in his expression, every flare in his eyes that might hold a spark of recognition, every crease in his brow as he examined her, the way he ran his hand over his beard in concentrated examination. It was happening in seconds, but to Alicia it felt like minutes, hours even. Finally, Jamie shook his head and sat back in his seat, shoulders wide. Reclining in pride? Had he placed her? Worked it all out: the Donoghue connection, the links to Chad, the accompanying ignominy. Was it time for the bubble to burst?
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I really––’
Oh, God.
‘I really had no idea you were famous.’
Wait. What?
‘You had…no idea? Seriously?’ Alicia gripped onto the table’s edge.
‘Yeah, sorry. I’m not sure you understand quite how much I don’t keep my finger on the fame pulse. I’m hopeless.’
Alicia’s hand slipped from the table. Jamie was apologising for not knowing who she was, having no idea of how much this meant to her. How wonderful it was that the man before her was the same man as before, rather than a disappointed version.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ she said.
‘No, Iamsorry.’ He scraped his fist through his hair. ‘Sometimes I’m a bloody idiot. Like I’ve forgotten your birthday or something. Good old out of touch Grandpa Jamie strikes again.’
Alicia clapped her hands in delight. ‘Bring him on. Bring on out of touch Grandpa Jamie. The Cary Grant movies should have been a sign.’ Did she seem too relieved and jovial in all of this? After all, why should her fame be something she was so desperate to hide.
‘I do have a few questions,’ Jamie added. ‘Why “former model”?’
Alicia was more than happy to answer questions because she was confident they would be safe. She was back in control of the narrative. ‘I was a model back in my teens and early twenties,’ she explained. ‘I gave it up because I got old and to be an artist.’
