One Perfect Summer

on.
    ‘Shouldn’t we go and get Ellie?’ I ask.
    ‘She’ll be okay with Dad for another half an hour,’ she replies.
    I sit down at the kitchen table and she pulls up a chair opposite me.
    ‘Why don’t you stay here with me for a few days?’ she suggests gently.
    ‘What? Why would I do that?’
    ‘It would give you some space from Lukas. Don’t you think you need some time to sort out your head?’
    ‘I could definitely do with some space to sort out my head, but I wouldn’t not go home to Lukas. That would totally freak him out!’ I exclaim.
    ‘He’d get over it.’
    ‘Lizzy, I know you’re not a big fan of “the Husband” as you like to call him, but he is my husband. Contrary to popular belief, we have a lot of fun together.’ I know she doesn’t think we have much in common, but she’s wrong.
    ‘Doing what?’ she asks.
    I refrain from telling her the sex is good. I don’t want to rub her nose in it when she’s not getting any. ‘I don’t know,’ I reply, ‘going for daytrips to museums or to the seaside or to National Trust properties. Cuddling on the sofa at night.’ I’m not sure this information is winning her over, but I respect Lukas for not being your Average, er, Joe. Wrong term to use. ‘He’s very sweet to me,’ I add. ‘I know how much he loves me. And I love him.’
    ‘As much as you loved Joe?’
    I don’t reply.
    ‘I didn’t think so.’
    ‘What do you think I’m going to do about it?’
    ‘You could try to contact him again?’
    ‘No,’ I say resolutely. ‘No. I tried that. And don’t you ever tell anyone!’
    ‘Of course I won’t,’ she scoffs. ‘But you didn’t try very hard.’
    ‘What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave my number – what if he rang me back when Lukas was around?’
    ‘You could leave my number,’ she suggests thoughtfully.
    Hmm, bet she’d like that.
    ‘He wouldn’t call, anyway,’ I say in a flat voice. ‘His agent probably wouldn’t even pass on my message,’ I add. ‘In fact, he definitely wouldn’t. He’d think I was just another mental Strike Stalker.’
    ‘But surely you still want answers. You still need answers.’
    ‘Well, I’m not going to get them. Look at him! He’s a huge Hollywood star!’ He’s even less tangible than he was before, I think despondently.
    Lizzy’s mobile starts to buzz. It’s still on vibrate after our trip to the cinema. She picks it up and stares at the caller ID. ‘It’s Lukas.’
    I’m taken aback. ‘Is it?’
    She answers the call. ‘Hello?’ Pause. ‘Oh, okay.’ Pause. ‘I’ll tell her.’ She ends the call and looks at me. ‘He’s downstairs. He’s been beeping his horn, he said. Your mobile is still switched off.’
    ‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ I snap, getting up and grabbing my things together.
    ‘Tell him to wait!’ she cries.
    ‘No, I’d better go. I don’t know what his problem is.’
    I soon find out. The second I’m buckled in, he throws a tabloid newspaper on my lap.
    ‘Have you seen this?’ he asks stonily.
    I unfold the paper and stare at the front page. There’s a paparazzi shot of Joe looking miserable, with the headline:
    EXCLUSIVE! MY RAPIST SHAME
     
    Oh, no. They’ve found out about his past, about his brother. I scan the words and discover that Ryan is still in prison for rape, but soon he’ll be up for parole.
    ‘Have you seen it?’ Lukas asks again.
    ‘No. No, I haven’t,’ I reply quietly.
    ‘At least you haven’t been talking to Lizzy about it behind my back,’ he mutters.
    If only he knew . . .
    A few days later there’s another ‘exclusive’. This time it’s an interview with Joe’s parents, who talk about how their son, little Joe Strickwold, shamefully disowned them when he became famous.
    Lukas is scathing about the whole thing. ‘You fell in love with that? Look at his family! Disgraceful.’
    But all I can think is poor, poor Joe . He must be distraught. There’s been no sign of him since the news broke, and I keep imagining him inside his sprawling mansion in the Hollywood hills feeling utterly alone because no one in his new life knows where he came from or what he’s been through. The fact that his parents – his mother all dolled up with make-up and his father in a suit – are making out that he’s the bad egg of the family . . . I’m disgusted to my very core. I want to go to the papers myself and tell the truth. I want to defend him, to slate them, to tell the story from Joe’s point