Chapter 36
‘Rosie? Is it really you? The Rosie Featherstone who did that online charity campaign thing for domestic violence?’ Lucinda sounded out of breath.
‘Yes,’ I said, thinking how surreal this was and that it should be me who was star-struck having an actress on the phone. ‘That’s me. Are you OK? You sound out of breath.’
Juliet and I exchanged glances.
‘I can’t believe I found you!’ she panted. ‘And I’m on an exercise bike. Pedalling my butt off.’
I smiled and gave Juliet the thumbs up.
‘Well, it’s lovely to hear from you,’ I said tentatively, ‘but I don’t work for them any more.’
‘I know! I heard about what you did, how you got the sack for not airbrushing my photograph to make me look slimmer. And I wanted to get in touch to say thank you, I don’t often get someone sticking up for me, but my agent said no one knew where you’d gone. And then, there I was on Twitter, and someone had retweeted a picture of you looking all kick-ass outside a café with your arms folded and I thought that has GOT to be her. And it is!’
Lucinda’s voice was a bit like gunfire and after Jamie’s languid tones, it took me a moment to catch up.
‘Well, that’s not quite what happened at Digital Horizons,’ I said. ‘Far from it.’
She gasped and said, ‘Oh. My. God’ a lot as I explained that I’d known she was happy with the pictures from the photo shoot to be used to front the campaign and that when the charity and my company had wanted me to airbrush them to reduce her waist and thighs, I’d refused and walked out.
‘Good on you,’ she said fervently. ‘I mean, I’m not that fat, am I?’
‘You are not fat at all, Lucinda,’ I said hotly. ‘And anyway, the point of having your picture there was to empower women who found themselves in a difficult situation, not to highlight the circumference of your thighs.’
‘They should have used you to front the campaign instead of me. Walking out like that over something you believe in … you are totally my hero,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I wish I was more like you. You’re just so sure in your own skin, you know your own mind. You’ve got an opinion and you stick to it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, touched. I lowered my voice. ‘But actually, that isn’t always a good thing. I’m beginning to worry that I’m getting as bossy as my mother.’
‘I never really knew my mother.’ Lucinda sighed. ‘She died of cancer when I was three. Dad couldn’t cope and my sister and I went into care.’
‘I’m sorry, I remember that from reading your profile from your agent,’ I said softly. ‘Which makes everything you’ve achieved so impressive.’
‘I miss her. I miss having a mum. I’d just like someone to talk to sometimes, who’s unconditionally on my side, you know.’
‘I do,’ I replied, thinking how blessed I was to be surrounded by family, who if I ever needed them would be there for me in a heartbeat. ‘I’m no substitute, I know, but if you ever need a sounding board, you know where I am.’
Down the other end of the phone was a noise that sounded like a sob.
‘Thank you. I can’t tell you how hard it is in this industry to stand up to all that image stuff. It’s like you have no control over your own body. I had an audition for a part two weeks ago and they told me to come back when I’d lost a stone.’
‘That’s outrageous,’ I said, appalled. ‘I hope you told them to get stuffed?’
There was a pause on the other end of the line and all I could hear was the whirr of the exercise bike and Lucinda’s panting. ‘I’ve lost four pounds so far, but I’m so hungry. I could inhale one of your pizzas now, just scoff it down, crust and all.’
My heart tweaked for her. How stressful to have to monitor your every mouthful. And how awful that someone else thinks they can dictate how another person should look.
‘Come and work for me,’ I said, looking at the containers of olives, sliced Italian sausage and fresh mozzarella beneath the counter. ‘I bet I can cure you. You won’t want to touch another pizza after being surrounded by them all day. My sister has gone right off them.’
‘Five hundred calories! Smashed it. I’m done.’
The exercise bike stopped and there was a glugging noise as presumably she had a drink.
‘I’d love to,’ she said breathlessly, ‘but I got another part. Which I’m probably, well, possibly going to take.’
‘Oh good!’ I said heartily. ‘One you don’t need to lose weight for, I hope?’
‘They haven’t asked me to but …’ Her voice faded and I heard a heartfelt sigh.
‘Lucinda? What is it?’
She sighed. ‘It’s my first film role. Only a small role. But it’s a great cast. Tom Hiddleston’s in it.’
‘Take it!’ I cried. ‘And I’ll be your PA.’
She laughed. ‘I want to take it but there’s some nudity in it.’
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘And I take it you have to provide the nudity?’
Her voice went all muffled as she explained that it was bum and boobs only, which wasn’t too bad. But she wasn’t sure whether to do it and as I’d been so passionate about not airbrushing her curves, she thought she’d ask me for my advice.
Suddenly her voice was clear again. ‘Sorry about that, just stripped off for a shower. So what do you think? Should I do it? I really want to but …’
‘I think it’s about staying in control. Being comfortable with the situation at all times and making it clear what you will and won’t show. This is about you, Lucinda. You and your body.’
‘But what if I say yes to bum and boobs and when I get there they say “oh just turn round” or “just drop the sheet”? I’ll be pressured to do as they say.’
Pressured …
I thought back to my last night in London when Callum forced himself on me. Making me do things I didn’t want to do. It was completely different to Lucinda’s situation, of course, but I had lost control; the power he had over me had taken away my right to choose. And what was worse was that I had let him get away with it. I should have done the right thing, the brave thing, and reported it. It was rape; he should have been punished. Instead, I had slunk back to Barnaby and tried to forget the whole incident. That one night had had repercussions for my love life for ten whole years. Telling Gabe about it had done me the world of good; he’d made me see that it hadn’t been my fault, that what Callum had done was wrong in every sense. But it still niggled me: because I hadn’t done anything about it – hadn’t made Callum face up to the fact that he had committed a crime – what was to stop him doing it again?
What if I could have prevented that by reporting it to the police? What if someone else had suffered the same thing? So in a way I was guilty …
‘You’re disgusted, aren’t you?’ said Lucinda, after my continuing silence. ‘I’d better go.’
‘NO!’ I blurted out and then calmed down. ‘I’m in awe. Totally. And I think your mum would be too.’
‘Seriously?’ she said in a small voice.
‘Yes. But don’t let anyone force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I know it’s not quite the same, but no means no and you have to make sure your director understands that. And if anything happens that you’re not comfortable with, speak out, don’t accept it. Tell someone – promise me you’ll tell someone.’
Like I should have done at the time …
‘OK.’ Lucinda sighed. ‘I’m not ashamed of my body. I’m looking at it now in the mirror. I’m just not sure I want anyone else to see my foofoo. But this could be my big break. If I say no, I might never get asked to do a film again.’
I chewed my lip, wondering what I’d do.
‘Put yourself in your shoes a few years ahead from now. Imagine you’re an older successful actress looking back at your career, what would you tell your younger self?’
‘Er … oh gosh, I’d probably say, take every opportunity that comes your way, but always be true to yourself, be proud of your body, it’ll never look any better than it does right now.’
I grinned. ‘Spoken like a legend of the silver screen.’
‘You are seriously good,’ said Lucinda with a giggle. ‘I’d never have thought of that.’
There was a beep from her end and she gave a little squeak.
‘What was that?’
‘Just made a sale on Depop, you know that sales app?’
‘Yes I do know,’ I said with a grin. ‘I was in social media, remember?’
‘So much better than eBay with all its grouchy old people moaning about feedback and postage.’
‘What did you sell?’
‘A Stella McCartney suit. I’m going through my wardrobe while I’ve got a couple of weeks free before the filming starts.’
I laughed. ‘So you’re definitely taking the part.’
She giggled. ‘Yeah, why not? I’ll just channel you when the cameraman tells me to drop the towel. Can I call you again? From my trailer in Hollywood?’
I shook my head affectionately, thinking that Lucinda was going to be fine. ‘Of course, now bugger off, I’ve got some baking trays to scrub.’
She gave a squeak. ‘Bloody hell, there’s a car coming for me in half an hour! At this rate I’ll be appearing nude sooner than planned. But listen, if I can ever help you out, you know, with anything, please ask. Although possibly not washing up. And thanks for the new mantra, I needed to hear that: no means no.’
We exchanged mobile numbers and she rang off to go and prepare for a film premiere in Covent Garden and I picked up some cake-encrusted baking trays and thought there was somebody else who still needed to hear it too …
I was tired when I brushed my teeth before bed later that night, my back ached from stacking the outside tables and chairs, but my brain was still buzzing; I couldn’t get Callum out of my head. My conversation with Lucinda had triggered all sorts of worrying thoughts. What if he had done it again – attacked another girl? What if what had happened to me was part of a pattern that I could have prevented by pressing charges? What if he needed to hear no means no too?
I was ten years older now, I wasn’t afraid of him – I hadn’t been at the time, actually. He’d been a moody sort of boy, not my usual type. He’d always seemed a bit tortured, as if everyday life was a challenge for him. Looking back, I have no idea why we got together; we were so unsuited. Up until Callum, I’d always gone for the loudmouths, the life-and-soul-of-the-party boys. I should have known then – they always say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch.
We’d both had too much to drink that night. Perhaps if I hadn’t been in such a deep tequila-induced slumber I’d have had the strength to fight him off and it would never have happened.
I pulled back the duvet and was about to get into bed when I stopped. It might be too little too late, but all of a sudden I knew I had to do it. I had to find Callum and see what sort of life he had led since we split up.
I ran downstairs for my iPad, settled myself back into bed and asked Google to find Callum O’Connor from Leeds, last seen in Putney in 2006. My first search produced nothing. He wasn’t on LinkedIn or Facebook. Which was odd; he’d just started out in a career in media when we met; assuming he was still in that line of work, I’d have expected him to have a profile on every social media platform on the planet. I stared out of my bedroom window, racking my brains for ideas. I’d left my curtains open and even though it was late, it wasn’t completely dark. The sky shimmered silver from the light of an enormous moon.
I thought of Gabe; he’d no doubt be in bed now too, possibly gazing up at the moon like me. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and flirted briefly with the idea of sending him a text: Guess what? I’d say, I’ve decided to try to find Callum, what do you think? And if he was awake he’d probably text straight back; he’d want to help. My heart fluttered. He would, I knew it; he was kind-hearted like that.
And then I remembered what Jamie had said about Gabe’s idea of introducing pizzas on to the Cabin Café menu and I tossed my phone back down. I took a deep breath and went back to my search; Callum O’Connor couldn’t have simply disappeared …
Half an hour later my heart was racing; I was pretty sure I’d found him, or at least his family.
I’d found an O’Connor family living in Leeds and as I’d dug around, more and more details of Callum’s life had come back to me: his dad had run a small building firm; he had three brothers, one of whom, Patrick, had played rugby for Ireland; and his mum was called Nuala. I knew that because one of the other brothers had just had a baby when I’d met Callum and his mum had asked to be called Nanny Nuala.
Nuala O’Connor’s Facebook page was full of proud pictures of her family. Her husband had evidently passed away, but last Christmas she’d posted a picture of ‘me and all my babies’ and had tagged all four of the people in the picture. She was standing in the middle of the group, surrounded by three burly men and a woman wearing party hats and Christmas jumpers. Nuala was holding a selfie stick and she’d shaved the tops off two of the tallest men in the picture and a couple of comments made reference to her dubious selfie skills. But that wasn’t what stood out for me. The person I couldn’t take my eyes off was the woman. She was wearing a lot of black eyeliner, had an angular jaw and her Adam’s apple jutted out over the neck of her jumper. I was sure Callum didn’t have a sister but this girl smiling shyly at the camera had the same blue eyes as the rest of her family. I stared at her picture and a shiver ran down my spine. There was no mention on Nuala’s page of Callum. But plenty of Candy O’Connor …
My mouth went dry. Could Candy be Callum? My finger hovered over the link to Candy’s profile page. I clicked on it and held my breath.
All of Candy’s posts were private, but I scrolled through her profile pictures and what I saw made my heart beat like fury; there, over the last few years, was the gradual transformation from male to female. And even though Facebook would only let me scroll back so far, I could tell it was him.
Callum had gone through gender realignment and now lived as a woman. I’m not sure quite what I expected to gain by Facebook-stalking my ex, but it certainly wasn’t this. This wasn’t closure; this was opening a whole new can of worms …
I checked the time again. It was nearly midnight, too late to be doing this but I knew I wouldn’t sleep now. I had to contact him, her.
I clicked on the Facebook messenger icon and tried to think what to say. It took me half an hour to compose a three-word message:
Can we talk?
I pressed send and waited, optimistically, for an instant reply. But none came.
I lay back against my pillows for another hour, my heart still thumping. The moon disappeared behind the clouds and the room grew dark, the only light the blue haze from the screen. My eyes became heavier and heavier until eventually, half-asleep, I slid my iPad on to my nightstand and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
At six o’clock I jolted awake, my heart pounding as if I’d been having a nightmare. I automatically reached for my iPad to check for messages. My inbox was showing one new message.
Candy O’Connor had replied.