Netta shrugged, unsure how to answer.
‘Well, darling, I hope you roasted him like the pig he is.’
Netta’s smile was thin. ‘What’s in the box?’
‘Pain au chocolat and eclairs,’ said Audrey. ‘I’m feeling quite French today.’ She tapped her fingers lightly on the deep red beret atop her wavy silver bob.
‘Well, then, merci beaucoup for the invitation,’ Netta said.
Fletcher wriggled in Audrey’s bag and she pressed her elbow against it, winking at Netta. ‘Best get into the room before he blows his cover. And before I burst from curiosity. I can see you don’t want to talk about the interview, but you cannot deny me the gala gossip!’
Audrey let them into her room, carefully hanging her coat before putting the kettle on. Netta set the box of treats on the table in the couch nook and took a seat, suddenly aware of how tired she was—like her emotions had run a marathon. She pulled her legs under her and got comfy as she watched Audrey make two cups of tea, impossibly chic in her all-black outfit.
‘Now,’ said Audrey, settling her narrow frame into the armchair, ‘you must tell me everything. Starting with that kiss on the red carpet. Looked like quite the heart starter.’
Netta took her cup of tea from the table and blew on it, sending gentle ripples over its surface. ‘You saw that?’
‘I might be old, Netta, but I’m all over the socials. Fletcher and I have our own Instagram page, don’t we, Fletch?’ She scruffed his head lightly.
‘The kiss was—’ Netta stared at the window on the opposite side of the room, searching for the right words. ‘It was transcendental. And also completely fake.’
‘Fake?’ Audrey raised her eyebrows and looked at Netta over the rim of her glasses as she opened the bakery box. ‘Didn’t look fake to me. Your mouth was definitely on his mouth.’
‘The photographer asked us to do it.’
‘I see.’ Audrey offered the box to Netta, who selected a raspberry éclair. ‘And what of this argy-bargy with Mitch Carlton. Was that fake too?’
‘No, that was real,’ said Netta. ‘And let’s just say it started a chain of events.’
She told Audrey about the escape to Margate.
There was a long silence as Audrey considered the story, a slow smile growing. ‘I bet that was a bit of fun,’ she said, fanning her face with a manicured hand. ‘If he’s even half as good in bed as he is at filling out a suit, then I think I have reason to be quite jealous of you, Netta.’
Netta groaned. ‘He’s twice as good.’
‘Good Lord, no wonder you look so tired.’
‘It didn’t end well.’
‘What happened?’
‘He told me something on Christmas Day. Something very personal and very sad that happened when he was a kid. But as soon as he told me, everything changed. He was distant. Slept in the other room that night. And when he dropped me back at the hotel, he told me he didn’t know if he had time to see me again.’
‘Was what he told you something he’s traumatised by?’ Audrey’s face was serious now.
‘Definitely.’
‘And has he ever told anyone else about it?’
‘He says not,’ Netta said. ‘Not even his brother.’
‘Then maybe you need to give him some space,’ Audrey said. ‘Sometimes when people release something they’ve been holding onto for a long time, it rips the rug out from under them and they don’t know which way is up anymore. It’s like a balloon blown up really tight being let go: the air rushes out and the balloon goes haywire. It’s the same with humans, sometimes. When the truth comes out, we can lose direction.’
Netta considered Audrey’s insight. ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Or maybe he just wanted to have sex and I was the only person there.’
‘Netta.’ Audrey’s voice took on a stern edge. ‘I’m going to take a wild guess here and assume you’re not the first person Morrison has ever slept with. But youarethe first person he’s ever confided this secret to. If it’s something he’s held guilt or shame about since he was a little boy, he will likely think you’re judging him the way he’s been judging himself. He’s probably mortified, or thinks you don’t want anything to do with him now that you know about this thing, whatever it is.’
Netta shook her head. ‘But … I asked if we’d see each other again. I put my hand on his leg in the car. I think it’s pretty clear how I feel.’
