Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 48

Sitting outside a cafe on the Left Bank, Alex had an old Frank Sinatra tune in his head. What was it? Something about loving Paris in the springtime? And it was true: Paris seemed idyllic whether it was covered in blossom or frost, but Alex particularly loved it for the simple reason that he couldn't do this in any other city in the world. In London, New York or Berlin, he would have been mobbed by fans and star-struck tourists, but the French were too cool to bother you over lunch. A leisurely moules frites moules frites was sacrosanct in Paris. Alex offered a chip to his manager, who politely declined. Ted Sullivan was a straight-talking Brit something of an anomaly in an industry which seemed to produce foul-mouthed ball-breakers on a production line but he had been with Alex ever since he had become Al Doyle and Alex trusted him implicitly. was sacrosanct in Paris. Alex offered a chip to his manager, who politely declined. Ted Sullivan was a straight-talking Brit something of an anomaly in an industry which seemed to produce foul-mouthed ball-breakers on a production line but he had been with Alex ever since he had become Al Doyle and Alex trusted him implicitly.

'So how's Melissa?' asked Ted.

'Great.' Alex shrugged. 'Well, as far as I know, anyway.'

Alex was coming to the end of his European tour and Melissa was currently shooting her latest movie on location in Vancouver, so it was hard to find time when they could talk on the phone, let alone see each other. Melissa had managed to fly out to see him in Rome a few weeks earlier, but they had been living separate lives for months. Ted looked at him awkwardly.

'Look, I didn't want to bring this up, and part of me thinks it's none of my business, but as your manager and your friend, I think you should know.'

'Know what?'

'The rumours about Melissa and Justin Coe having an affair.'

Alex smiled and took a sip of his beer. 'I appreciate your concern, Ted, but Melissa and Justin are not having an affair.'

'How do you know? Those red-carpet pictures of them together on the Next Door Next Door promo tour looked pretty cosy.' promo tour looked pretty cosy.'

'I just know.'

'How?'

Alex sighed. 'Because he's gay gay.' He hadn't wanted to say it; if it was Hollywood's best-kept secret, then he respected that. But when he was starting to get grief from his manager, who was a discreet, no-nonsense man, it was time to put the record straight.

'Are you sure?'

Alex rolled his eyes. 'No, I don't have CCTV link-up into the man's bedroom. But I trust my wife, Ted.'

Ted went back to his burger. He took a bite, then put it down again, distracted. Alex looked at him.

'What is it? Come on, Ted, tell me.'

'Are you sure she's up in Vancouver filming the new movie?'

'She's got a couple more days' shooting,' said Alex, feeling a flurry of anxiety. 'Why do you ask?'

'Because a friend of mine saw her in New York last week.'

'Oh, big deal,' said Alex with irritation. 'So she had a couple of days off and went shopping. You know what women are like.'

'New York State State, Alex, not Manhattan. Some fancy hotel in the middle of nowhere.'

It was hard keeping tabs on his wife's movements when he was on the road, but he was sure Melissa hadn't mentioned being in New York at any point over the last month.

'Well maybe she ...' stuttered Alex. 'Maybe she just needed a break,' he finished lamely.

Ted took out his wallet, pulled out a business card and put in on the bistro table. 'As I said, it's probably none of my business, but if you're concerned, give this guy a ring. Mike Stone's his name. Tommy, the drummer from Kool-Aid, was having concerns about his wife last year. They had a pre-nup, with a no-cheating clause. Anyway, he got this PI to check out Suzie's movements. Turns out she had some guy tucked away in Vegas and was about to file for divorce.'

Alex was incredulous. 'Are you suggesting I put a private detective on Melissa?'

'At the risk of sounding like your mother, Alex, I just don't want you to get hurt. Emotionally or financially.'

Back at the hotel, Alex called the Vancouver house Melissa was renting during filming. The housekeeper answered and said that Miss Melissa had not been at home for the last two days. Fetching himself a large Jack Daniel's, he picked up the business card that Ted had given him and made the call.If Alex had been expecting evidence of Melissa's infidelity, he was disappointed. According to the investigator's meticulously logged reports, over the next two weeks Melissa went to the gym, to her hairdresser or out to the Ivy for lunch with Christopher Hayes. The PI managed to get close: they were talking about a new script Hayes had in mind for Melissa. In the end, the matter was settled by an unexpected source.

The night before he was due to fly back to LA, Alex was in the make-up room at the BBC, having powder applied to his nose by a camp young man named Will. He was due to appear on a late-night chat show and was enjoying the make-up artist's endless string of gossip.

'You know, I can't wait to see that new film your wife just did with Justin Coe,' Will said.

'Me too.' Alex smiled, not wanting to reveal too much. He was aware that some celebrity make-up artists and hairdressers supplemented their income by tipping off the tabloids.

'You know my boyfriend used to date Justin,' said Will boastfully.

The news made Alex sit up. 'I didn't know Justin was, er, gay.'

'Not good for business, is it?' Will laughed. 'Dan, that's my boyfriend, was a hairdresser in LA for a while. When they split he had to sign a confidentiality contract thicker than his d.i.c.k. Nice pay-off. Used it as a deposit for his house in Santa Monica.'

Alex put in an awful performance on the chat show. Usually he was a natural on screen, affable, funny and open with his rock-industry anecdotes. But that night he was distracted and anxious. Part of him felt flooded with relief, while the other part felt wretched about his suspicious and irrational behaviour. Setting a private investigator on his wife! What was he thinking?

Back at his hotel, he called Mike Stone, the private investigator.

'Hi, Mike, it's Alex. Listen, I've been thinking about the investigation, and I think it's time to stop ...'

'You got my photos, then?' said Stone.

'No, what photos?'

'You near a computer? I sent them to your email.'

Quickly Alex opened his laptop and clicked on his inbox immediately he was confronted with a grainy shot of Melissa coming out of an anonymous office block. In the background, he could just see part of the sign; it read 'Clinic'.

'What's this?' Alex frowned. 'A cosmetic surgeon's?' It wouldn't have surprised him. With the advent of High Definition, every actress in Hollywood over twenty-five was freaking out over every visible line and open pore.

'Uh-uh,' said Stone. 'Try ob-gyn.'

'An obstetrician?' Alex said with delight in his voice. 'That's the best f.u.c.king photograph I think I've ever seen.'Alex took the first flight back to LA. His driver collected him from Santa Monica airport and he went straight to Neil Lane, Melissa's favourite jeweller's, picking out a twelve-carat eternity ring that sparkled like the ocean in summertime. Back at their Hollywood Hills home, he rolled his sleeves up and got to work preparing his wife's favourite meal of cold poached salmon, and gave Ana, their housekeeper, the rest of the day off. By the time he saw Melissa's Prius turn into the drive, he had already laid a table with starched linen, crystal goblets and candles out by the pool. He had hidden the ring clumsily under a napkin, but the velvet box was peeking out.

'Hey, stranger.' She smiled, coming through the door and kissing him on the cheek. 'What's going on?' she asked as he led her out to the table.

'A surprise welcome home.'

'Oh now you've made me feel guilty,' she said coquettishly. 'Sorry I couldn't have been back earlier, but you know these meetings run on and on. Oh look, Ana's made my favourite poached salmon salad.'

'My own handiwork, actually.' He smiled.

'My, my. You should go away more often.'

'So how's it been without me?' he asked as they sat down.

'Wretched, of course,' she said in a faux British thespian accent. Her next movie was a period piece and she had just started working with a dialogue coach.

'Oh s.h.i.+t,' said Alex suddenly. 'Can you eat salmon?'

'What? Why not?' she said.

'You're not supposed to eat fish, are you?' he babbled. 'Bad for the baby, I think. Or is it just raw fish?'

'Babies?' she said with a weak smile.

He leant over and grasped her hand. 'Sorry, honey, I heard you were at the ob-gyn yesterday,' he said, hoping she wouldn't think to ask how he knew what she was doing yesterday. 'I just put two and two together ...' He trailed off, seeing the downturn of her mouth, the way she avoided his gaze.

'You're not pregnant, are you?' he said slowly, trying not to let his disappointment show.

'Yes, I am,' she said simply.

'You are? That's fantastic!' he cried, picking her up and spinning her around. 'Was it that night in Rome? That's so romantic! Maybe we should call him Gino if it's a boy, what do you think? Too Dexy's Midnight Runners?'

Too late, Alex realised Melissa wasn't smiling.

'Rome was ten weeks ago, Alex,' she said quietly. 'I'm five weeks pregnant.'

He felt all the joy fall out of him. 'Five weeks?' he said. He didn't even need to do the arithmetic. 'Are you sure?' he asked, feeling his heart beating too fast.

'It's not your baby, Alex.'

He could barely breathe. So it was true about Melissa and Justin. 'But Justin's gay,' he said.

'The baby is Chris'.'

'Chris? Christopher Hayes Hayes?' he said incredulously.

'It's been going on for a while. We didn't want you to find out like this. We all want to avoid bad publicity ...'

'Bad publicity? Is that all you care about?' Is that all you care about?'

'Of course not,' she said, taking a step towards him. 'I'm so sorry, Alex.'

'But why?' he whispered. 'Why?'

'He's good for me,' she said.

'Good for your career, you mean. Good for getting you a b.l.o.o.d.y Oscar.'

'It's not like that, Alex,' she said defiantly. 'Christopher and I are equals.'

Alex knew what she meant by that. Hayes would give Melissa the sheen of respectability she craved. He could take her where she wanted to go acceptance as a serious actress, not just a pretty face. She had her own money. Fame. Alex could offer her nothing but himself and that wasn't good enough.

'What about us?'

'There is no us!' shouted Melissa. 'Can't you get that through your head? It's over, Alex! Chris is going to end it with Jennifer. It's serious between us. Especially now.'

'Serious?' he yelled, pulling the ring out and thrusting it in her face.'This is an eternity ring, Melissa. That's how serious I am about you. I wanted to grow old with you, I wanted us to be together for ever!'

He strode to the edge of the terrace and, pulling his arm back, flung the ring out towards the lights of Hollywood. It twinkled briefly, then it was gone.

55

As the low outline of the Pennines came into view, Alex leant over and switched off the radio. He didn't want any distractions as he drove into Macclesfield. It had been eight years since he had last visited his home town and he wanted to absorb everything. Peering through the drizzle spotting the windscreen, he took in the cramped grey terraces with their narrow ginnels, the tiny shops selling lacy ladies' things and unfas.h.i.+onable lamps, the chippy, the church, the endless pubs with their welcoming orange glow. Suddenly all these things he had once loathed and rejected seemed more solid and important than anywhere else. This was where his roots were and, like it or not, where his heart was.

He drew the black Mercedes into the kerb, noting that a caravan was still parked outside number thirty opposite as it always had been, except this model looked whiter and s.h.i.+nier. Alex had not seen his mum in over three months, when he had flown her out to Athens for one of his live shows. She had always wanted to see the Parthenon and was giddy with excitement as they walked around it. Since he'd come into money, Alex liked giving gifts over the years he'd spent a fortune on art, jewellery and clothes for Melissa and bought two sports cars for Ted but the look on his mum's face that afternoon had been worth every last bit of the struggle it had taken to get there.

'Alex, love!' Maureen Doyle's face lit up as she saw her son.

'All right, Mum.' He gave his mother a hug, shocked how much older, thinner, smaller she'd become, even in that short period of time. He'd made countless offers over the years to relocate her to LA, but she had insisted she was happier in Macclesfield, in her home, surrounded by people she had known for decades.

'Not brought the reporters with you, then?' she said, peering around the front door.

'I'm not sure anyone at the Macc Express Macc Express knows who I am, Mum.' knows who I am, Mum.'

'And where's Melissa?'

'Oh, filming,' he said vaguely.

It had only been three days since she had told him about the baby. Melissa had not offered to move out Christopher had yet to tell his wife that their relations.h.i.+p was over and Melissa didn't want to 'rock the boat' until that point. Unable to stay under the same roof as her, Alex had gone to stay with Ted for a couple of nights. It was Ted and his wife who had finally persuaded him to get as far away from LA as he could. Alex had decided not to tell his mum anything about their split. He told himself it was because he didn't want to burden her, but in reality he was hoping Melissa would change her mind.

'Well it's lovely to see you anyway,' said Maureen. 'I'll put the kettle on, shall I?'

'Cool. I'll just go and put my bag upstairs.'

She popped her head around the kitchen door. 'You're staying here tonight?' she said, surprised.

'Not many five-star hotels in Macc, are there?' He smiled.

He walked up the narrow stairwell past the bathroom. The avocado suite had gone and had been replaced by something white and slightly more modern-looking, apparently installed by nice Mr Singh from down the road. His bedroom hadn't changed at all except for one platinum record that hung on the far wall. Maureen was much too discreet to have it on show anywhere else, but it looked just right there next to the shelf full of music trophies from Danehurst, the dusty stack of Melody Makers Melody Makers and the little ceramic pot full of plectrums. and the little ceramic pot full of plectrums.

Dropping his bag on the bed, he walked to the window. Outside, he could see a man strapping his kids into the back of a slightly battered Fiat Punto. With a lurch, he realised it was 'Mad' Dave Kinsella, a lad he had gone to school with. They'd played in the school football team together and Dave had earned his nickname for creeping into the girls' showers for a dare. For a moment, Alex thought about going down there, saying h.e.l.lo but then what would he say? 'All right, Dave, how are the kids getting on? Going swimming are you? To the park?'

Here he was, one of the biggest rock stars in the world, a platinum disc on the wall of his bedroom, and yet 'nice Mr Singh' was the one looking out for his mum and Mad Dave was the one with the happy family life and a s.h.i.+ny new caravan. Here in the real world, your dreams might be smaller, but they were still dreams and they could still come true. With a wrenching gut, Alex realised that the part of his life he'd treated as an afterthought marriage, children, stability was the thing he had always wanted the most.

Turning away from the window, he spotted something he hadn't seen in years ca.s.sette tapes, neatly lined up along the top of his chest of drawers.

'Wow,' he said, rifling through the carefully hand-written labels. The Pixies, the Breeders, Nick Drake. 'd.a.m.n, I had good taste back then,' he muttered. He opened a drawer and found other things, things that suddenly seemed important to him. A handful of scout badges, a paperback book that Grace Ashford had given him on that trip to Bristol, a harmonica that had belonged to his dad, a ticket stub for that fateful Verve concert where he had met Jez, Gav and Pete.

'Hey, Mum!' he shouted, putting his head over the banisters. 'Have you got a box I can use to put some stuff in?'