One Perfect Summer

face falls. ‘Oh, we can’t.’
    ‘You might get recognised?’
    He nods dejectedly. ‘I . . .’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Sometimes I wish I wasn’t famous.’
    ‘No, you don’t,’ I chide.
    He looks up at me sharply. ‘I do. It’s so fucking complicated . . . I wasn’t expecting it.’
    ‘But you’re an amazing actor,’ I say gently. ‘You must enjoy it?’
    He nods. ‘I do. But . . .’ He sighs. ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘What? Go on.’
    ‘Sometimes I wish I had a normal life like you, a normal job, living in a normal little house and . . . Well, I bet your house isn’t little at all.’
    ‘It’s not that big,’ I tell him. ‘It’s Lukas’s parents who have the . . . Well, they’re, you know, he’s from a pretty good family.’
    ‘I bet he is.’ He looks thoroughly fed up.
    ‘When I say “good”, I don’t mean “nice”.’
    ‘You don’t like them very much?’ He clearly wants everything not to be rosy.
    ‘I like his brother and sister. But his parents, no, not really.’
    ‘At least he and I have that in common.’
    He comes over and hoiks himself up onto the countertop. He watches me as I prick the cellophane of the rice packet with a fork and swap it over with the now-cooked curries in the microwave. I look over at him. This is so normal, so domesticated. This is what our life could have been like.
    My face crumbles. He looks horrified.
    ‘What is it?’ He jumps down from the counter and puts his hands on my arms, studying my face. I shake my head quickly, willing the tears away, but they don’t comply. ‘Come here.’ He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in. I let out a sob into his chest and he holds me tightly while I cry.
    ‘Shhhh, shhhh,’ he says into my hair, kissing the top of my head over and over. ‘It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. I love you, Alice. I love you.’
    But it’s not going to be okay. There’s nothing okay about this at all.
    That night I take my wedding ring off.

 
    I come down in the morning to find him doing press-ups on the living-room carpet. I have no idea how many he’s already done, but I stand on the last step and watch in awe as he does thirty more, the muscles on his back rippling. He bounces to his feet and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees me.
    ‘Shit! You scared me.’
    ‘Sorry.’ I try to keep a straight face as I wander through to the kitchen and fill the kettle with water. I barely slept, but I don’t feel tired.
    He follows me through, slightly out of breath. I glance at his bare chest. It’s hard not to.
    ‘I can’t actually believe you’re Joseph Strike,’ I say with a shake of my head as I switch the kettle on. ‘Did it feel weird changing your name?’
    ‘At first the thought of it did, yes. But when it came down to doing it, it was surprisingly easy to let it go.’ He grins at me and says in a teasing voice: ‘Anyway, Alice Strike sounds better than Alice Strickwold.’
    A thrill goes through me. ‘Oi. Enough of that.’ I blush and change the subject. ‘Do you still like Kingmaker?’
    ‘Yeah, of course.’ He hops up onto the countertop again and inadvertently I glance at his famous six-pack. I try to concentrate.
    ‘You haven’t thought about putting “You and I . . .” on one of your film soundtracks?’
    He looks at me with disbelief. ‘I’m working on it, actually.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yeah.’ He lightly kicks my leg with his foot. ‘You know me so well.’
    Feeling jittery, I turn my attention to the kettle. It’s taking forever to boil.
    ‘Hey, do you have the number for the people who own this cottage?’ he asks casually.
    ‘Er, sure. Why?’
    ‘I’m going to ask them if I can buy it.’
    ‘Seriously?’
    ‘Yeah. Don’t you think it’s a good idea?’
    ‘Well, yes. But can you really just buy a cottage?’
    He looks amused.
    ‘Okay, yes, I know you can afford it,’ I say drily. ‘But there’s more to buying a house than handing over your credit card details.’
    ‘Can you help me?’ he asks. ‘I mean, I could ask Melanie, but I’d rather keep it between us.’
    There’s something quite loveable about that.
    ‘Of course I can help you,’ I tell him warmly. ‘Do you want me to call the owners and see what they say?’
    ‘Actually, that would be great,’ he says chirpily, jumping down from the counter. ‘Hold off on my cuppa. I’m going to go and take a shower.’
    My eyes follow him out of the room.
    I go upstairs and dig out my