Ch.8: Red Roses

Within twenty minutes, a silver Bentley arrived to collect me. Because Annie had been in charge of organising everything else so far, I'd assumed that she'd probably be behind the wheel, too. Instead, I was met by a big guy in his forties, with hair creeping back from his temples, and eyes framed with a fantail of deep laugh lines, who introduced himself as Don McLaren, Jude's personal driver.

And apparently mine too.

Leaving the loft was awkward as hell. Since we still hadn't talked about the physical part of our trial marriage, I had no idea if I should kiss Jude goodbye or not. I kind of wanted to, but what if he thought it was too soon? What if he refused or avoided me, and I completely humiliated myself in front of him and Elle?

So I just mumbled, ''bye', took the key that Jude gave me, and scurried into the Bentley without looking back.

Central London was as congested as usual, but sitting in the back of a spacious Bentley, with tinted windows so no one could see me, and soft music piped in from hidden speakers, I couldn't exactly complain. It really did beat the crush of the Tube.

Don didn't say much as we drove, and I was relieved about that. There was too much going on in my head to make small talk. I still hadn't told my parents or Tasha what had happened – as far as they knew, I wasn't flying back from Vegas until tomorrow. Maybe Jude was right about not telling them yet. Expecting them to come to terms with something that I still hadn't fully, was a big ask. But lying to them about something like this – even if it was a lie by omission – made my chest squeeze tight.

When we were two streets past Market Row, Don pulled up to the kerb. I was pretty sure cars weren't allowed to stop here, but since when did rules apply to anything connected with Jude Scott?

"This is where Mr Scott instructed me to drop you off," Don said, looking back at me.

I fought the urge to laugh.

A couple of days ago, I'd been sitting on the pavement in Vegas, nursing a cracked heart and a cheap bottle of vodka. Now I was being chauffeured around London as if I was Somebody.

"Thanks," I said.

"He also instructed that I wait here at five-thirty for you. He's put my number into your phone, so if anything changes, call me and we can alter the arrangements."

Of course he had, and I hadn't even seen him do it.

I climbed out of the car and shut the door, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. But no one was looking at me. It was only the people who knew me that I had to worry about.

I slipped the diamond ring off my finger and slid it in my pocket.

As I walked into The Tipsy Swallow, I half-expected everyone to notice that something was different, as if Jude's charisma and Elle's gloss had managed to rub off on me, but apparently I was the same old Camden, because no one said anything other than how sorry they were that Jake had cheated on me, there were plenty more fish in the sea, I was better than him anyway, I'd find someone else, and all the other well-meaning but unhelpful things that people say when they don't know what to say.

Samantha thanked me for coming in at such short notice, gave me a spare uniform, then put me to work polishing the bar.

It was almost as if the last couple of days hadn't happened.

In a way, I'd wanted that. I'd thought that returning somewhere familiar, like work, would keep me grounded in the whirlwind of abrupt change that had swept through my life, but instead it made me feel more out of place, more torn between two halves of my life. I wanted to fit those halves together, but the edges didn't match up.

The day passed quickly and uneventfully, and as we drew near to closing time, an anxious knot formed in my stomach.

What if Don wasn't waiting for me when I finished?

What if Jude had changed his mind?

I touched the key in my pocket, tucked away safely with my ring, to reassure myself. Jude wouldn't have given me a key to the loft if there was any chance of him changing his mind this soon. He'd told me that he wouldn't do something like that, and I had to trust him.

Still, my heart was lodged in my throat as I left the bar, and I almost couldn't bring myself to look up in case Don didn't come, in case this was all some Vegas-induced dream.

But the silver Bentley was tucked against the kerb as if it hadn't even moved. Don got out as I approached, his laugh lines deepening as he smiled at me.

"Thanks," I said as he opened the back door, and he gave me a slightly bemused look, as if he wasn't used to being thanked.

I climbed into the car, and as the engine rumbled to life, I slipped my ring back on. It had felt so bizarre when I first woke up and found I was wearing it, but after an afternoon without it, my finger had felt strangely bare.

The loft was empty when I got back, and I again had that sensation of my life being torn into two halves. Jude and Elle had made me feel so at home this morning, but now they were gone, and I felt like an interloper in the huge, silent space. Something felt different, like the furniture had been moved, even though it hadn't. My footsteps were too loud on the wooden floor, and when my phone rang, I almost jumped out of my skin.

I recognised the name on the screen – Mrs Shields, the sixty-something woman who lived across the hall from Jake – and my skin prickled with alarm. I'd given her my number a few months ago, after she'd locked herself out of her flat, without her phone, and had spent the next three hours sitting on a hard, cold floor, waiting for one of us to get home from work, but she never called unless she needed something.

I answered the call. "Hi, Mrs. Shields."

"Oh, Camden, thank goodness I managed to get hold of you. Have you spoken to Jake today?"

"I'm afraid we're not together anymore."

"Oh, I know."

I started to ask how, then reminded myself that the whole building probably knew after the way I'd yelled at him when I caught him and Kelly together.

"And you'd better not go back to him, not after how he betrayed you," Mrs Shields added.

I smiled, even though she couldn't see it. Of all the people who lived in the neighbouring flats, she was my favourite.

My smile didn't last long. "Why do you want to know if I've spoken to him?" I asked.

"Jake appears to be bagging up all your things and dumping them outside the door. Are you coming to collect them?"

My stomach lurched.

Maybe this was revenge for me burning his passport and stopping him from going to Vegas, or maybe he just didn't want anything of mine in the flat anymore – all that mattered was that Jake was throwing away everything that I had in the world.

"No, he . . . he didn't tell me," I said, stumbling over my words.

"A coward as well as a cheat. I tell you, Camden, I'll be damned if I ever bring him cake again."

A passionate baker, Mrs Shields was forever bringing slices of homemade cake across the hall for us. Sometimes I'd wondered if she baked them just so she had an excuse to talk to us, and then I'd feel a pang of guilt at the thought that she might not have anyone else to talk to.

"Where are you?" Mrs. Shields asked.

"I'm . . . at a friend's."

"Can you get over here?"

"I'll have to," I said, though I wasn't sure how.

If Jude was here, he'd probably get Annie to arrange a pickup from Brentford. But I didn't have Annie's number, and today's tips wouldn't cover a taxi fare. Could I call Don?

More importantly, was I ready to face Jake?

My stomach knotted as I thought of the moment that I'd walked into the flat and found Kelly Thomas, naked and straddling my boyfriend, on top of the cushions that I'd bought to make the place feel more like a home. The absolute shock of it had frozen me in place, unable to do anything but stare at Kelly's bare ass gyrating on Jake's bare lap.

When Jake had realised I was there, he'd blustered and apologised, trotting out the usual bullshit of how it wasn't what it looked like, but Kelly had looked at me and smiled, sharp and triumphant, like she knew she'd won.

Facing Jake would be hard enough, both because I wasn't over the raw ache of betrayal and because he'd be pissed that I'd gone to Vegas without him, but it would be ten times harder if Kelly was at the flat with him right now, helping him bag up everything I owned and tossing it outside like it was nothing.

I could handle facing Jake on his own. I could probably handle facing Kelly on her own. I could not face seeing the two of them together, especially not when I'd be alone.

But what choice did I have?

"Listen, young lady. You come when you're ready and not a second before," Mrs. Shields told me.

"I have to –"

"Nonsense. I won't let him throw anything of yours away, d'you hear me? I'll rescue every single bag and I'll keep hold of it until you can come and get it, no matter how long that is."

"You can't, you don't have enough room –"

Mrs. Shields loudly shushed me. "Don't you worry about that. I'll keep everything safe for you."

Tears pricked my eyes. "Thank you."

As I hung up the phone, a flash of colour caught my eye, and I realised what was different. When I'd left for work this morning, the vase by the sink had been filled with white roses.

The white roses had been replaced with red ones.

***

I'd hoped to wait up for Jude, but by nine, my stomach was growling. I ate some leftover pizza from the fridge, stole one of Jude's beers, and tried to work out how to use his TV. After twenty minutes, I admitted defeat and watched videos on my phone instead.

Still Jude didn't come home.

I'd known this was a possibility, but as the first hour ticked away, then the second, my spirits sank lower and lower. I couldn't stop looking at the door, hoping that Jude would walk through it, all gorgeous and tattooed and messy-haired, and then I'd feel like I belonged in the loft again.

But he didn't.

By midnight, I gave up and went to bed.

The loft was still empty the next morning, and I couldn't tell if Jude had already left for the studio, or if he'd never even come home.

Should I call him?

If he was in the middle of creating musical magic, I didn't want to interrupt, but what happened if he spent most of our trial month in the studio and we didn't actually get to know each other?

I felt strangely anxious and on edge. Samantha had already texted to say that Amy was feeling better and would be coming in today, so the Swallow wouldn't need me until my regular shift in a couple of days, which left me with nothing to do but hang around the loft while Jude was working.

Unless . . .

Elle had told me I could call her, but what if she was just being polite? For half an hour I dithered, pacing from the kitchen to the living room and back again until my anxiousness had given way to irritation.

"Come on, Camden. Put on your big girl panties and do it," I told myself.

I pulled up Elle's number and hit call before I could talk myself out of it.

"Hi, it's Camden," I blurted, as soon as Elle answered.

"How are you doing?" She sounded genuinely pleased to hear from me, and my tight grip on the phone relaxed.

"I'm feeling a bit out of place, to be honest. I haven't seen Jude since yesterday morning, and I don't know what to do with myself."

"Say no more. I'm coming over."

"Are you sure?" I hoped I sounded less pathetic than I felt.

"Of course. I'll be with you in about twenty minutes."

She arrived at the loft in fifteen, as polished and put-together as if she'd had a team of beauticians preparing her for a photo shoot, and warmly hugged me.

"Sorry, I didn't pull you away from anything, did you?" I said.

Elle waved a hand. She'd swapped her glittering diamond bracelet for a delicate Cartier watch. "Nothing at all." She slid gracefully onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "Why are you feeling out of place?"

I shrugged, feeling a bit foolish now. "I don't know. It felt different when Jude was here. Now it's like I'm a stranger."

Elle looked around the loft, and it struck me that she'd spent far more time here than I had – perhaps when she and Jude were a couple too. That made me feel more like an interloper than ever.

"This is your home too," Elle said.

"But it isn't. It's Jude's. Everything in here is his. I'm just crashing in the spare room."

"So move some of your stuff in."

I bit my lip.

"What's wrong?" Elle said.

I told her what had happened with Jake.

"He threw all your stuff out? What a little shit," Elle exclaimed.

"I did burn his passport and stop him from going to Vegas."

"Because he cheated on you." Elle sounded as outraged as if she'd been my friend for five years instead of five minutes. Abruptly she jumped out of her seat. "Where does this prick live? We're getting your stuff back."

I blinked at her. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me."

We stared at each other over the breakfast bar. Elle's face was resolute, her eyes sparking with anger.

"I'm serious, Camden. Call Don and give him the address."

"What if Jude needs him for something while we're in Brentford?"

"Jude's a big boy. He can either wait, or he can have Annie arrange something else. Don's not the only guy who can ferry him around."

"Does he ever drive anywhere himself?"

"Not much these days, but it's not because he's lazy. Sometimes the thought of being mobbed by fans and media whenever you leave your home is too much, and it's easier to relax in the back of a car that someone else is driving," Elle explained.

"Speaking from experience?"

A shadow of sadness crept into Elle's eyes. "Yes. Fame and fortune bring some amazing highs, but also some devastating lows. It's not always as fun as people think." She snapped her fingers at me, and I noticed she had fresh gemstones clustered on the tips of her nails. "Now call Don."

Still I hesitated, clutching my phone. "What happens if Jake or Kelly are there?"

Elle tossed her blonde hair over one shoulder, and gave me the sultry pout that she usually reserved for the red carpet. "Then they'll have me to answer to."

With her slim build, perfect makeup, and glittering accessories, Elle Reed hardly looked like someone you'd be afraid of. But there was steel in her voice, and I suddenly got the impression that she was a lot tougher than her appearance suggested.

"You're Jude's wife, which means you're my friend, and I don't like people who hurt my friends." Elle's smile sharpened. "Now tell me where this douchebag lives."