Devoted: The Blackwell Lessons Part 10

'In some ways yes, in some ways no.'

'In some ways no?'

Marc shakes his head. 'It doesn't matter. Yes I'll be there on Monday.' His lips stretch tight. 'To see my old friend.'

18.

As we leave the restaurant, Marc takes my hand and marches me along the street.

'You can be very impulsive sometimes,' he says, his voice low. 'Agreeing to this before we even know if you're pregnant or not ... sometimes I forget how young you are.'

'I'm not much younger than you.'

'You're five years younger.'

'Do you think that's a lot?'

'More than you might realise.'

'What are you saying?'

Marc shakes his head. 'Nothing Sophia. I just ... when I was your age I'd seen the world. Met dozens of directors. I would never have made a decision like the one you just made. Not in such a hurry.'

'This is a great opportunity for me. I wasn't rus.h.i.+ng into anything. I knew it was right-'

'How do you know?'

'I just felt it.'

'You haven't even read the script-'

'But I love all Nadia's movies. And I knew Leo wouldn't be keen unless it would work for us.'

Marc's lips go thin. 'I don't know why you can't just admit it. You've behaved impulsively.'

'Easy for you to say,' I snap. 'Not everyone had Oscars under their belt before they hit their twenties. Acting is tough. I'm still unknown. I bet you took every part you were offered before you made it big.'

'My father accepted every part I was offered,' says Marc. 'But when I started making my own choices I was selective.'

'Not all of us are in the position where we can pick and choose.'

'You were being impatient Sophia. If you're pregnant and you get tired ...' He shakes his head. 'Well it's done now. Let's just hope the doctor gives us good news. And that you're not carrying a baby.'

My blood runs cold. 'How could you say that?'

'Because I care about you. Seemingly more than you care about yourself. You've jumped into filming before you even know what's happening to your own body.'

'I might not even be pregnant,' I say.

'But if you are?'

'Nadia said she worked through all her pregnancies.'

'And Nadia can drink most men under the table. You're more fragile.'

I laugh. 'Fragile? Maybe I'm tougher than you think. I lost my mum when I was still a child. And I practically brought up Samuel while doing my degree. Maybe you're forgetting just who I am, Marc.'

I catch a glimpse of our reflection in a s.h.i.+ny delicatessen window. Marc is tall, dark, handsome and foreboding. I'm small and willowy, with wavy brown hair blowing in the breeze and a beautiful line of diamonds sparkling at my neck.

I put a hand to my throat. 'Is this how it's going to be now we're married? Always arguing?'

'If you recall, we argued before we were married.'

'And I hated it.'

'I don't like arguing with you either.'

'Are you going to tell me about Baz Smith?'

'Tell you what about Baz?'

'Oh come on. You didn't invite him to the wedding. And you didn't want to come to the costume fitting. And you haven't kept in touch with him, even though you're good friends. How come?'

'Like I said. Men don't do all that keeping in touch nonsense.'

'Yes they do. My Dad and his brother-'

'Look I'm coming to the costume fitting. Baz and I can smooth out all our differences then.'

'Differences?'

'Forget I said that.'

19.

The day of the costume fitting comes around quickly. Which is good. Because it means I'm a few days nearer to knowing if I'm pregnant or not.

I'm pretty excited about the costumes for this movie. They'll be designed by Jennifer Perry, who's made costumes for some of my all-time favourite films.

I sit close to Marc in the back of the limo, the script on my lap as we drive across London. We're heading to a special wardrobe site, where there's a whole aircraft hangar dedicated to fitting our costumes.

'How many more times are you going to read that script?' says Marc, a little smile pulling at his handsome lips.

'At least ten more times.'

'You must have read it that many already.'

'I want to know it perfectly. I'm worried enough about some of these scenes. The last thing I need is to forget my lines.'

'Perhaps you should have known the script better before you accepted the part,' says Marc.

I let the script drop to my lap. 'So I was impulsive. Okay? Happy now? Some of these scenes ... I'm scared Marc. There's some gruelling stuff in here. Sword fights and rope climbs and underwater stuff.'

Marc squeezes my hand. 'I may regret saying this, but ... you'll be fine. I'll support you. Okay?'

'Thank you.'

'And the next time you make an immature, impulsive decision I won't point it out. I'll wait until you work it out for yourself.'

I laugh. 'Well thank you very much.'

Marc takes the script and flicks through the pages. 'I think you'll be okay. You'll have a stunt double for most of the physical scenes.'

'I will?'

'Our agent will insist upon it.'

I can't help smiling. 'There are times I appreciate your controlling ways.'

'Do you like the script? That's the most important thing?'

'I love it. Although I'm worried about the bedroom scene. Because I know you're not happy about it. Despite you pus.h.i.+ng me to explore myself as an actress.' I raise an eyebrow at him. 'So you can't really complain now I'm being asked to do it for real.'

'Yes I can.'

The limo drives through barbed-wire security gates and onto a site full of aircraft hangars.

'Are all these hangars full of costumes?' I ask Marc.

'No. Some have costumes. Some have fabrics and sewing machines. Some have both.'

Marc knocks on the gla.s.s. 'The second hangar on the left, Keith. The one painted red.'

'You certainly know your way around,' I remark.

'I should do. I've been here enough times.'

'You have?'

Marc nods. 'And spent many a tedious hour in wardrobe.'

'Many a tedious hour? You don't like being fitted for costumes?'

'Hate it.'

'I'm not sure I'm going to like it either,' I admit.

'It's every woman's dream isn't it?'

'Not mine. Maybe I should have been born a man.'

'Well I for one am very glad you weren't. You, Sophia Blackwell, are just too beautiful for words.'

Marc trails fingers down my cheek. 'And if you need any help getting unchanged ...'

'I'm sure the wardrobe people will be delighted to have your a.s.sistance.' I breathe.

Marc's fingers reach into my hair. 'They'd better be.'

I see more security up ahead and lean away from Marc.

'Shy, Mrs Blackwell?'

'On the first day of my first movie? Yes. Very.'

20.

We meet a security guard at the door of the hangar, who asks to see my ID.

He stands back to let us in, but Marc barks, 'Hold on a minute. Why haven't you asked to see my identification?'

The security guard gives a little laugh. Then his eyes widen as he realises Marc is serious. 'I thought ... I mean, you're Marc Blackwell. Everyone knows who you are.'

'You need to check everyone's ID,' says Marc. 'Never presume to know who someone is.'