where the papers were waiting in a soggy pile. What had Al told them? How could he possibly know Sly was involved?
But the story that unfolded with more puns in bold italic than ever disgraced a Carry On script wasn’t Al’s. It was Bill’s.
‘Loved Up Star Comes Out’ ran the headline. ‘Bill tells how love for gay agent ruined life with sexy Smack.’
Bill told his story with the minimum of sentiment, outlining how his feelings for me had changed over the years, how he grew to rely on me as a sister, a mentor, and a therapist, but no longer as a lover. He told the nation how he clung to me even though I wanted to leave, how he begged me to stay, threatened suicide and even once locked me in our London flat for several days. He named Sly as his lover of close to five years, a man who had stood by him with unending patience and support. He spared himself no embarrassment as he finally exposed the true nature of our relationship and set me free. Christ, he was brave.
It was just after dawn, but the press had already started to gather outside. I ignored the knocks on the door and let Carrot bark himself hoarse as I hid from them all and took the phone off the hook. I’d been through it all before and wearily prepared for the long siege. ‘Cross your legs, Carrot, mate.’
It was only when I hear a familiar voice yelling through the letterbox that I opened the door a crack. Al burst inside, looking unshaven and exhausted.
‘Why didn’t you tell me he was gay?’ he demanded.
‘It was none of your business.’
We both jumped as a flash at the window almost blinded us. I closed the curtains on the photographer and buried my forehead in their dusty folds. ‘Coming out will probably destroy Bill’s career.’
‘No it won’t,’ Al shook his head. ‘He’ll have to cling on to the sides of the boat for a while but he’ll weather the storm. Look at Elton John, Michael Barrymore, Rupert Everett. They all came out and survived. Bill could see it was time. All he needed was good advice and a hand to hold.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I didn’t get these red eyes from staying up partying,’ he muttered, sagging down on the sofa. ‘I’ve just got off a plane from California. Bill had no idea how much you’ve been suffering. Typical starry attitude, only thinking about himself. Still, he’s a nice enough bloke. He’d just had lousy PR management, that’s all.’
‘You went to see him?’ I was appalled. ‘Christ, you’re a bloody hyena, aren’t you? Is there no bone you won’t pick for your pound of flesh?’
‘I gave him good advice, Sadie,’ he sighed, looking even more tired. ‘I thought that at least I could do one decent thing before I quit to prove I haven’t been in the wrong career all these years.’
‘But why Bill?’
‘For you, of course,’ he walked to the dresser where his ‘file’ still lay under a pile of unopened mail. ‘I hoped you might reconsider my final offer?’
I looked at the photograph and laughed. ‘You must be joking! I couldn’t fake another love affair. Can’t you see what a mess that would make?’
‘I don’t want to fake it, Sadie. I never did. Like I just said, I quit PR.’ Al was opening the most recent of Bill’s letters. ‘Sadie darling, he still won’t go away. Christ, he’s persistent. He says he loves you and says I have to set you free –’
‘Give that here,’ I snatched it away and started to read. I’d trust Bill with my life – after all I’d trusted him with my love life for years. He’d clearly confided in Al a great deal. They had talked for hours, discussing the nature of fame, the way it destroys, creates untruths, damages souls. Bill liked Al, was clearly smitten, and even had the nerve to be irritated with me for using him. ‘He’s very like you, Sadie darling. He fell into this twinkly world by accident. Give him a chance. Don’t let me down – now I’m allowed to be camp at long last, I simply must wear a ridiculous Versace suit to the wedding.’
‘Oh God, Bill, you daft bugger. Why wait so long?’ I put the letter down with a sob and looked at Al’s sad, dishevelled face. ‘You don’t want to fake it?’
He shook his head, cupping my face in his hands. ‘I want the real thing, far away from the public eye. Just you and me and normality.’
‘Oh God, that sounds good – a forever of normality,’ I bit my lip, diving into his eyes again and swimming around for joy before splashing my way tearfully towards the most wonderful of long kisses.
‘There’s only one problem, Al,’ I realized as I resurfaced for air. ‘Half the country’s press are camped outside this house right now and they know we’re in here.’
‘So?’ He laughed. ‘Let’s give them something to write about before we disappear forever. Where’s your suitcase? Does Carrot need anything packing? Some food and her bed, maybe.’
Now that gave me an idea …
As we tanked along to M20, laughing our heads off, we heard the first reports of our extraordinary exit from my cottage on Radio 5 Live.
‘The couple are believed to have left Smack’s house dressed in gorilla suits. Most of the tabloids have already put this down to a publicity stunt after Bill Roth’s extraordinary confessions in today’s News. Editors say that the Alchemist has stretched his credibility too far this time.’
‘Welcome to incredibility,’ I laughed.
‘Incredible,’ Al stretched across to kiss me as we queued for the Channel Tunnel. ‘We’re the first celebrity couple who got together to escape the limelight completely. Where do you fancy going? I hear the South of France is lovely at this time of year.’
‘Too many stars.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘How about Belgium?’
‘Well, the chocolate’s nice,’ he nodded. ‘And we could afford to rent a little farmhouse somewhere remote.’
‘Perfect,’ I sighed, leaning back and tickling Carrot’s nose. ‘What will we do there?’
‘I rather thought,’ he chewed his lip and glanced at me guiltily, ‘that we could set up a super-discreet retreat for harassed celebrities?’
I started to giggle in England, and I was still laughing when we got to France.
Marian Keyes
Marian Keyes' international bestselling novels include Rachel's Holiday, Last Chance Saloon, Sushi for Beginners, Angels, The Other Side of the Story, Anybody Out There, This Charming Man, The Brightest Star in the Sky and The Mystery of Mercy Close. Two collections of her journalism, Under the Duvet and Further Under the Duvet, are also available from Penguin. Marian lives in Dublin with her husband.
Los Angeles International Airport: teeming with passengers, arrivals, film stars, illegal immigrants, a dazed English girl called Ros and, of course, the odd alien or two freshly landed from another planet. Well, only one alien, actually. A small, yellow, transparent creature who liked to be called Bib. His name was actually Ozymandmandyprandialsink, but Bib was just much more him, he felt. Bib was in Los Angeles by accident – he’d stolen a craft and gone on a little joyride, only planning to go as far as planet Zephir. Or planet Kyton, at the most. But they’d been repairing the super-galaxy-freeway and diverting everyone and somehow he’d lost his way and ended up in this place.
Ros Little hadn’t landed from another planet, she just