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“Love you more, Helen Helicopter.”
As I pulled up on the high street, I noticed the photographer through my rearview mirror. Seriously? I’d become oddly used to the intrusion while out with Hugo, especially in places such as London and LA. I couldn’t fathom what the hell a paparazzi could possibly want from me, though, getting out of my car on a quiet high street in Sevenoaks. In a futile bid to predict the next Twitter headline, I struggled to decide what to do. Did I risk getting on with my day and reading another link to a story about Hugo’s mysterious fat friend entering a teashop to get even fatter, or did I drive off and let them make something up?
Sod it. I needed to take Hugo’s advice and stop clicking on that shit. Pretending the guy with the camera didn’t exist, while sucking in my belly because I was very aware that he existed, I got out of my car and strode into the teashop with my head high. Mainly to stretch out my double chin.
Chrissie and Zac were at the table by the window, placed perfectly for a nice clean shot from a paparazzi camera. If I didn’t know them better, I’d wonder if the slimy dude with a ponytail outside had paid them to sit there. Slimy Dude didn’t even pretend to hide. He appeared completely comfortable getting up close and personal with the glass when I approached my friends’ table on the other side.
“Hey,” Chrissie said, looking slightly uneasy as the camera lens popped up right next to her head.
Before I replied, I swiped a scone off the three-tiered cake stand in front of Zac and shoved as much as I could in my mouth. If he wanted a story about how fat Hugo’s ‘friend’ was, I’d fucking give it to him. “Hey,” I eventually replied around a mouthful of buttery crumbs.
“Diet going well then?” Zac piped up.
“Say that word again, Zachary, and I will shove this entire afternoon tea so far up your arse you’ll be choking on it for a week.”
“Yeah,” Chrissie said. “She’s had a busy time, Zac. Can you try not being a moron for once? She looks fantastic. I think you’ve even lost a few pounds, Hel.”
Bless my friend. She was lying, but I appreciated it. It had been a busy few weeks but, unlike people who couldn’t eat when they were stressed, I pushed stress down by throwing food on top of it. If I’d lost a few pounds, then Chris Hemsworth looked like a fly-infested turd. Busy. That’s how I’d described recent events to Chrissie, because until my earlier chat with Hugo, it had felt like his issues weren’t mine to share. Now, though, as I slid into the free chair opposite the window, I felt like a liar.
“Somebody should go and say something,” Chrissie said, cocking her head toward Camera Guy, who continued to click away. “I’m gonna go say something.” She went to get up, but I stopped her.
“Leave it. He’ll go away in a minute. They always do.”
“Listen to you! Being all blasé about the papz like this is your life now. I love it.”
“Yeah.” Although, I didn’t always love it, this new life…and I felt incredibly guilty about that.
“What’s the matter?” Chrissie asked. “Is it the sandwiches? Because I know you don’t like cucumber, so I asked for some ham ones, too.” She pinched the top of the cake stand and twirled it around. “See.”
“No, no. It’s…” Shit…should I really do this? It felt like, since the moment Hugo had given his permission, the words had been bubbling in my throat, itching to get out. I needed help, too. My mum was gone. I had no one else. Hugo trusted me and I trusted Chrissie and Zac. Hugo’s problems, our problems, were safe in their care. Before I continued, I made sure the intrusive parasite with a camera had gone. He had. “Things have been a little hard lately. Hugo’s been sick, but he’s getting better.”
“Oh God, has he got that bug that’s going around? I had a dicky tummy last week. Blamed it on the Italian I’d had the night before, but then the next day, Paul, at work, turned actual green halfway through his shift. Stunk out the entire second floor.”
“I had it, too,” Zac joined in. “Coulda shit through the eye of a needle for two days straight.”
“First of all, eww,” I said, literally shaking away the mental image I feared would be seared into my brain for eternity. “Second, no, not a bug.” I went on to describe everything that had happened, not only recently, but since I’d known Hugo Hayes. I told my friends about my childhood with one of the most famous musicians in the world, about his problems and struggles and how they affected both of us. I explained how strong I had to be for him, how naturally that came to me…and how draining it could be. By the end of it, I felt fifty pounds lighter…and I hadn’t had to so much as sniff a vegetable.
