Page 52 of Before We Were Famous

‘Gone for a walk,’ Edgar answered. He sat opposite Isabella and studied her. ‘You know, you don’t look well. You’ve lost weight. Maybe you should come home for a while.’

They sat in silence for a few moments.

‘I can’t,’ she said,’ I need to be near him.’

I understood Isabella’s despair and felt very sorry for her despite not particularly liking her. That pain was familiar, although I was never insecure with Heath, but I knew that awful feeling of wondering and waiting. The irony was that Edgar was a little like that. Sure, he told me he loved me, but he directed actors with the same passion. He had never shown me any great depth of love. But the difference was, I didn’t feel it either. Maybe we were both shallow. Maybe I had just taken a safe course, a safe ship in the harbour—no fighting, no drama, no commitment or intensity—we just co-existed and that met our needs for now. Poor Isabella looked wretched.

‘Don’t let this guy make you sick, Izzy,’ Edgar said again, ‘he’s not worth it. He’s the type who would seize and devour you without a second thought.’

She grimaced. ‘You barely know him; how can you even say that? Has Cathy told you something about him?’

He shook his head. ‘I know his type.’

That comment made me angry; Edgar had never bothered to ask about or get to know Heath. Once Heath spurned his film offer, neither Heath nor Edgar cared to know anything about each other.

Isabella rose and I pulled back a little further so I couldn’t be seen.

‘Can’t you offer him another movie role?’ she asked.

I nearly cried out aloud, but I needn’t have worried, that was Edgar’s reaction too.

‘What the fuck for? I don’t need him and he’s already thrown one offer back in my face,’ he said. ‘He’s not that fucking good.’ He rose, harnessing his anger, and returned his glass to the bar. ‘Hell will freeze over before that happens, even for you.’

I was worried Edgar would storm out and catch me listening as there was nowhere quick to run and hide, but he walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulders, looking at her intensely. ‘Izzy, if the relationship needs me to secure him for you through obligation, you know it is not going to work. I’m sorry,’ he said.

Seeing them together like that was oddly ghoulish. It took me back to the time Heath and I peaked in through the windows of Thrushcross Grange. They were like waxen creatives. Back then, Isabella was having her hair brushed and Edgar was patting a small lap dog. I had to restrain myself from laughing out loud at the memory.

‘So, are you and Cathy going strong?’ I heard Isabella ask. Oh, this will be good. I leant in so I didn’t miss a word.

‘We’re solid,’ Edgar answered. ‘But I have to admit, if I knew she was having any kind of communication with your boyfriend, I’d kill him. Is she coming between you?’

My blood boiled. Isn’t that a question he should be asking me, so much for trust?

‘No, he never mentions her,’ Isabella said.

Aagh, that hurt as well. They were all hateful today, the lot of them. I suddenly yearned to return to Wuthering Heights and have a night alone there. Isabella interrupted my thoughts with a direct question to her brother.

‘Will you marry her?’

I held my breath.

‘I think that is inevitable,’ he answered.

Oh. My. God.

Wow. Imagine my future as Mrs Catherine Linton or Ms Catherine Earnshaw-Linton. Wow, that sounds good.

‘I best go find Cathy, the weather is setting in and she’s out there in it,’ Edgar said, his voice laced with frustration like he had to look for a pesky child. I raced on tiptoe back to the door, opened and closed it with a reasonable bang, and walked towards the living room.

‘Ah, good timing, I was getting worried about you,’ Edgar said, and came to me, placing his hand on the back of my head. He pulled me in for a kiss. ‘You’re all flushed.’

‘I was getting windblown out there,’ I said, exhaling for effect. I turned to notice Isabella allegedly for the first time.

‘Isabella, what a nice surprise. Are you alone?’ I asked, looking around knowing full well she was.

‘Yes, Heath’s rehearsing this weekend and couldn’t get away. Final rehearsal I believe.’

‘Right,’ I said, nonchalantly. ‘Are you staying?’

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