“They're for you, Fitzroy.”
“What?Don't be daft.They don't even know who I amyet.”
“Haven't you been into a movie theatre since we hired you?Douglas put together a trailer from your rehearsals.You're a starbefore you've started.And don't go thinking it's neat, becausethey'd tear you apart like wild dogs if they got thechance.”
Sheturned her back.Laurie kept a grip on Sasha's hand.“That'sinsane,” he said faintly.Yet despite the madness of it, despiteher words, when he sank into the Chevy's deep, soft leather, aweird delight blossomed up in his chest.A star before he'dstarted—that would do.That would justify his decisions, everythinghe'd left behind.He'd known he could make it work, and here hewas, bowling down Sepulveda Boulevard with Sasha beside him andthree hundred fans screaming his name.
“Devlin!”It seemed to come from rightbeside his ear.He jolted at the thud of flesh on glass.The Chevyhad slowed down at the lights.To Laurie’s cold horror, a kid aboutClara's age had caught up with the car—was throwing herself at it,her face a distorted blur, small fists pounding on the windowbarely three feet from his face.“Devlin, let me in.I love you.Ilove you!”
“Oh, fuck,” Libby said wearily.She nudged the driver.“Putyour foot down, Paul.”
Laurieleaned across Sasha, who was also staring out of the window at thekid.Laurie remembered the Barbican station, and a self-possessedchild who had talked to him about Shakespeare, about her ownambitions and dreams.“No.Slow down.She's hurtingherself.”
“Serve the little bitch right.Paul, shake her off.”
Thesedan swerved.The girl lost her balance and crashed to her kneeson the tarmac.Laurie just had time to see her friends haul herback off the road, and then she dropped out of hissight.
Chapter Fourteen
Evenfiltered through tinted glass and vine leaves, that sun was fierce.Sasha held his hands up to it.On his palms he felt thedifferences, the gap between London light and this.Between thesultry heat that boiled mahala summers into a restive,trigger-happy hell and this clean brilliance...He'd never known aland that was made for the sun.Even in the Languedoc, summer was avisitor.Here it reigned supreme.Sasha closed his fingers tightthen opened them again, letting golden light cascade into his eyes.If he could let the light fill him, he would be okay.He would beLaurie's assistant in public, his lover in private, whatever Laurieneeded him to be.He'd wear a pair of bleached-out jeans likeBailey, pick up some skimpy T-shirts and designer shades.He’d blotout from his memory his old parka and camo-print trousers, hiddenin the London flat.He didn't need those now, in the city ofsunlight and angels.
Therewas nothing in the life he'd left behind him that he couldn't letgo.Even his dearest-held responsibilities had been lifted from himas if they weighed nothing at all.His senior officer at theGuidance Council, concerned by his headaches and ill health, hadtaken over the Cuza case without a murmur, wished him good luck onhis sabbatical.They couldn't hold his job for him, of course, butinterpreters were always in demand, and if Sasha were to reapply onhis return...
Perhapshe'd been too serious.Perhaps he and Laurie both had been lockedinto grim necessities for too long, turning their lives around fromhomelessness and disinheritance to success.Why shouldn't Lauriecome out here, have fun and make his fortune?The London theatres,like the Immigration Council, would still be there when they gotback.
A thudresounded through the beautiful glassed-in entrance hall.Lauriehad gone upstairs.He must have started to unpack.If Sasha wantedto prevent breakages and be able to find anything for either ofthem, he'd better go and intervene.He'd better do something,anyway—he'd been here for an hour, and so far hadn't managed to getfurther than the hallway where Libby and Bailey had dropped themoff with their hand luggage.Someone was coming round later,apparently, to show them how everything worked in the house.Somebody else was coming to deliver the vehicle Mr Fitzroy hadordered to be hired, and a further two somebodies—a housekeeper anda gardener, both fully background-checked—would be arriving tostart on their duties that evening.It wouldn't do for any of thesepeople to find him sitting here amongst the rucksacks, clearly andobviously lost.
Helooked around him, trying to take stock.This was a beautifulhouse.From his brief outside view, it resembled a Spanish villa,brilliant white stucco and arches, set into the hillside amidexotic gardens.The hallway was tiled in cool white marble, withconservatory walls that rose the full height of the building and afern-draped central fountain.Grapevines clustered in abundanceamong amaryllis and bougainvillea and dozens of other brightspecies Sasha had no hope of identifying, let alone looking after,as he'd initially hoped he might before hearing about the gardenerand housekeeper.A dark-wood staircase curved up to the floorsabove, each of its risers inlaid with gaudy tiles.It was a houseto enjoy, a house full of sunshine and beauty, except...
He gotup from the edge of the fountain where he'd been sitting.Quietlyhe climbed the spiral staircase.In a big, bright room withhacienda arches leading out onto the balcony, Laurie was strugglingwith a suitcase zip.The bed was rumpled, as if the fight had begunthere and proceeded onto the parquet floor.Wordlessly Sasha cameto crouch opposite Laurie.Their eyes met over the suitcase.Sashaextracted the shreds of torn cotton that had been clogging the zip,and pulled it easily back.“This is a fantastic place,” he said.“But what's with all the gates?”
Laurieshrugged.He frowned for a moment over the shirt he'd managed torip in his struggle.“You mean the gates around the house,or...”
“No.The ones up the street—the ones we drove through on ourway here.”
“It's just the way people live out here.The ones who canafford to, anyway.”
“But why?”
“It's a gated community.We have them in England now, too.Itjust means you know who's coming in and going out.”
Not in my England, Sasha wanted tosay.But he couldn't lay claim to any such place, could he?HisEngland—the version he'd found on his own, without assistance fromLaurie—had been a scrap of blanket in the doorway of a shop.“Okay.What happens ifIwant to go out?”
“Didn't you hear?Libby's getting passes made up for us.Youjust hop into the car and go wherever you want.”
Sashachuckled.“I feel stupid admitting this to you, but I suppose Inever thought about it, living where we did.I can'tdrive.”
“Oh.”Laurie sat down on the edge of the bed.He pushed a handinto his hair.“Well—don't worry.I'll take you wherever you wantto go.”
“Laurie, you'll be working.I'm not about to trail along to thestudios with you.”
“Then...I'll get you lessons.We'll hire another car.”Hisface fell.“I'm sorry, love.I haven't thought this out verywell.”
“Don't panic about it.”Sasha pushed the suitcase aside.Laurielooked suddenly anxious, a long way from home.Sasha didn't wantthat.“I'm sure there's plenty of buses and trains.”Not within thegates of this well-heeled enclave, and the gates were a good mileaway from the house, with a dry, winding trail stretching two milesbeyond them back to the main road.If you lived here, you wereexpected to own a car and drive.“It doesn't matter,okay?”
“It does.I'm an airhead.”
“Well, brains on top of all that beauty just wouldn't be fair.”Sasha plucked a kiss from the unhappy mouth, then another.With thethird, he felt Laurie's reluctant smile begin, and followed theadvantage with a hand to the back of his neck.“Shall we baptiseour palatial new home?”
