Chapter 20

There were still three photographers camped outside Chloë’s house when they arrived the next day. Josh kept them at bay while Chloë collected her things for the day’s lectures and then he drove her and Adam to the campus. As Chloë had predicted, the university had issued a warning to The Press to stay away and campus security did a fine job of keeping them out. Chloë found it easier to stay with Adam while Josh babysat her place.

After less than a week, Josh reported that the last of the snappers had given up and gone home. Chloë returned to her house and Josh went back to London. Things were back to normal, or as normal as they had ever been since Chloë came into Adam’s life. The stares and whispers that had followed them around in the early days of their relationship returned initially but quickly died away. Their workload increased even more and they found they had less time for socialising. By the end of November, Adam was so focused on his studies, he’d almost forgotten about the commitment he’d made to Chloë.

“I heard from Humphrey today,” Chloë said. They were in the library, working on an essay.

“Your agent?”

“Yep. He’s booked us a suite in The Hilton and he’s cleared our absence with the university authorities.”

“Eh?”

“For the Reunion première. You hadn’t forgotten had you?”

“Erm ... How could I? I’m going to meet the Queen.”

“Maybe not. Did you see the news the other day? She’s been taken ill. She’s had a fall or something. Humphrey reckons that if she hasn’t recovered the Prince of Wales will show up in her place. Anyway, we’re leaving here Tuesday evening, about six-ish. We’re seeing Jacques first thing on Wednesday, and we’ve got that stupid photo shoot later in the morning. I’ll have to do a bunch of interviews in the afternoon, and then the première begins at eight. After that, there’ll be a dull party at Genie’s.”

“The nightclub in Soho?”

“Yeah. The studio has hired it out for the evening. It’ll be full of very dull celebrities. I’ll have to show my face, but we don’t have to stay long. I’d much rather take you back to the hotel and have my wicked way with you.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me on that score. When do we come back to Westmouth?”

“Thursday afternoon. I’ve got a meeting in the morning with Mark and Humphrey to go over the terms of the contract for the film I’m doing this summer. But that’s about it. Unless you want to do a bit of sightseeing and shopping, of course. Josh will drive us back whatever time we’d like.”

The following Tuesday was like any other until lectures were over. Adam packed an overnight bag and walked to Chloë’s house. Josh’s black BMW was parked by the kerb. Adam walked up the garden path and knocked on the door. Josh opened it.

“She’s nearly ready. Shouldn’t be too long. That all you’re taking?”

“Will I need anything else?”

Josh shook his head. “Nah, but that won’t stop Chloë. She’s packing her third bag as we speak. She must be planning a change of outfit every hour. Give that here, I’ll stick it in the boot while there’s still room.”

It took them less than two hours to drive to London. After check-in at the hotel, Josh took the bags to the room while Adam and Chloë had dinner with her parents. It was the first time that Adam had met Mrs Goodman, and she was as pleasant to him as her husband had been. She seemed genuinely pleased that her daughter had found a boyfriend and was enjoying a happy relationship. She said it would keep Chloë’s feet on the ground. The meal was the best Adam had ever had—although Chloë insisted she’d had better in Paris. By ten, they were alone in their room—a suite as lavish as the one at Westmouthshire Hall.

“Your parents are really cool,” said Adam as he took off his jacket and threw it over a chair. He loosened his tie and undid his top button.

“They are now,” said Chloë. “Now that I’ve made a name for myself. You should have seen them ten years ago. Or even five.” She threw her jacket on the chair with Adam’s and eased out of her shoes. “It wasn’t easy for me growing up. Ask them now and Dad will say that he spotted my talent at an early age and wanted to make sure I reached my potential. Mum will say that I always wanted to act, even when I was very little, and that she supported me. But all three of us know that not the truth. The truth is that Mum wanted to be an actress and never made it. Now she’s living her dream through me. They were the very definition of pushy parents.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It used to, but I wouldn’t be where I am now without them. I mean, for example, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” She wandered across the room and picked up the phone on the bedside table. “Room service. Could I get some champagne and strawberries sent up, please? Oh, and do you have one of those chocolate fountains?”

“Champagne? Strawberries? And what the hell’s a chocolate fountain?” asked Adam.

“You know, melted chocolate cascading down a tiered fountain? You dip the strawberries in it. I think we deserve a treat. It’ll be a hard day tomorrow.” She walked towards the bathroom.

“Where you off to?” Adam asked. “I thought we were going to have a special night.”

Chloë stopped in her tracks and faced her lover. She cocked an eyebrow. “Champagne, strawberries and a chocolate fountain. Best place to eat them is in a hot, soapy bath. You get less sticky that way. Or rather, you get just as sticky, but you don’t care.”

“You sound like you’ve done it before.”

“Only once. And I was alone. I expect it’ll be more fun with two.”

By the time room service arrived, the bath was ready. It was a Victorian roll-top, standing on brass feet in the centre of the large bathroom. Chloë had Adam drag two tables close to the bath and the porter set up the fountain on one and the champagne, flutes and bowl of strawberries on the other. She tipped him while Adam stripped and climbed into the bath. When she returned to the bathroom, he was lying back with his eyes closed, his head resting on the edge.

“Better open those baby-blues or you’ll miss the show,” she said.

Adam opened one eye and looked at her. “What show?”

“This one.” She pulled her blouse out of her skirt and turned away from him. Then she unzipped her skirt at the back and shimmied out of it. Adam held his breath as her arse came into view. It was half-covered in a pair of silky, black French knickers. The skirt fell to the floor and revealed that she was wearing black hold-up stockings. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Nice?”