Stars

Friday came and went quickly; we watched Stop Making Sense and I fell asleep before This Must Be The Place, which annoyed me greatly; but it was a good night despite the horrific flu – I had noodles and in my mind, they tasted better than anything ever, even though I couldn’t taste a thing.

Dot woke us around nine the next morning, complaining of her immense hunger; we got dressed speedily and Tom took us out to a rather upscale, but quiet café – one of those where they sold Eccles cakes at the front just because they could. Tom and myself ordered Eggs Benedict and Dot had a lemon and sugar pancake with a banana milkshake. I was over the moon as I could taste my food for the first time in days and almost cried out in happiness when I took my first mouthful. Tom frowned and I offered him my Vicks Inhaler, to which he declined and looked away a tad disgusted.

We picked up our costumes while we were out; Tom took Dot to a fancy dress store whilst I looked in the Classics section of Marks & Spencer for an orange dress and a white summer hat. Thankfully it was rather sunny that day, so I didn’t look like a complete idiot as I paid for my summery outfit. I texted Tom to ask him if there was anywhere I could buy a ribbon and he replied quickly, saying he’d come and find me as he was done. Dot had a packet of Dairy Milk Buttons in her left hand as he found me perusing the Food Hall. I judged him for giving into her, but he called me a hypocrite when I asked him to lend me a pound coin for a packet of wine gums.

-

“I’m not going to lie; I really enjoyed the Beach as a film. I mean, clearly the book was far superior, but it was just such a gorgeous film and the soundtrack, I mean I’d never have thought I’d admit to enjoying an All Saints song.” I said, painting my lips a coral colour in the passenger seat mirror as Tom drove and tapped his hands along on the steering wheel to the Faithless song playing, the one which had prompted me to start talking.

“Yes, but if you compare the Beach with, say, Trainspotting, there aren’t half as many gimmicks in there; the scene when Leonardo DiCaprio had gone insane and started thinking his life was a video game, that was just embarrassing for everybody involved. After that foray into strange movements, I’m surprised Scorsese even looked at him.” He looked into the rear view mirror to check on a sleeping Dot and then looked to me. I pointed left in the direction of the estate.

“You’re just bitter because you don’t look similar enough to Matt Damon to have been cast in the Departed.” He reached out and hit my shoulder playfully, “And jealous that a fortune teller told me that I’d be the leading lady – the lady in white, when Scorsese teams up with De Niro and Pesci again.”

Despite his facing forwards, his eyebrow clearly raised, “That didn’t really happen, did it?” I pouted and pointed to the mock-Tudor house on the right where many cars had parked up.

“It wasn’t a fortune teller, per se. It was when I went to Derek Acorah Live and I contacted my dead grandmother and she told me, because Catherine Scorsese told her so.” He turned to me with his mouth ajar and his eyes rolling dramatically. I frowned, crossed my arms, put my straw hat on and got out of the car. I opened up Dot’s side of the car, unstrapped her from her car seat and attempted to rouse her from her sleep with a stroke to the cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and I smiled at her and she returned that with a confused stare. “You’re home, ladybird.”

She looked around and shuffled forward in her car seat, Tom slid in beside me and reached his arms out to pick her up and she grinned, kicking her legs up as he lifted her. He passed me the keys and I locked the car as he got her Peppa Pig backpack and John Lewis bag filled with clothes and toys. I looped my arm through his arm which was carrying the stuff and walked us to the door, knocking thrice. Dot yawned loudly, stretching her arms upwards and whacking Tom in the eye socket, who yelped in shock, dropped Dot’s belongings and covered his eye up. Dot apologised three times, taking her offending hand and touching his brow bone softly. He smiled and she kissed the corner of his eye. She looked at him with guilt and adoration and said, “Your face is all better now.”

“I thought you’d almost killed him, Dotty. You know that goes against the Hippocratic Oath. You are a terrible nurse.” Dot’s face brightened even more when she noticed her mother, Gwendolyn, (“Seriously, if anyone ever calls me that, I’m going to do some murders.”), standing in the door with her twin sister, Genevieve, (“Who the bloody fuck has the time to say all of that?”). Gwen held her diamante covered hand out to Tom, who put Dot down and kissed her knuckles, she put on her best Southern belle voice and fluttered her eyelashes, “Charmed, I’m sure, mister.” She grinned at him, “I’m Gwen, Freddie’s wife and Dotty’s mother. You must be Tom.” Dot hugged her leg, rubbing her cheek on the jewels attached to Gwen’s flapper dress.

“It’s lovely to meet you; your house is beautiful. And Dot was a pleasure to look after.” He said, I nodded in agreement and kissed Gwen’s cheek, picking up the bags on the floor and sliding my way into the house, depositing them by the umbrella rack. After a minute of reapplying my face powder in the mirror, Tom joined me and we walked out onto the patio to mingle and scout out my parents, who I found on the bouncy castle, with my father in a Spiderman costume and my mother in a ginger wig. I turned to Tom as we approached them and told him we should have gone as Batman and Robin. He shook his head, laughing and telling me that we could not have turned up like that, because of his contractual obligations. I smacked him, told him it probably would have been cheaper, and took off my shoes, jumping up onto the multicoloured bouncy castle.

I found my mother laughing hysterically in the corner of the castle, rolling about as she tried to get up, failing each time. I reached my hand out and she grabbed it, pulling me down next to her. As I fell, my hat flew off and I could hear my father guffawing and taking pictures of the two of us. Fredrik climbed on and began to jump, making mother and myself roll around, until I rolled off the side, with my once perfectly curled hair, ruined by the static. My father, in his Spiderman suit, jumped off and rolled up the bottom of his mask, kissing my cheek. “I won’t kiss your cheek. Sylvie will accuse me of man-knapping.” He said to Tom, who held two champagne flutes, one of which I grabbed and sipped on. “Are you an actor too?” Tom nodded and replied as articulately and as modestly as one would imagine. “Anything I might have seen? I don’t get to go to the theatre much as it’s so expensive these days, but I do make a trip when Sylvie’s in something. Were you in something together?”

“No, no, I met him when I was still waitressing at the golf club. And he’s in that Scandinavian murder mystery with Ken Branagh, you know the one.” I replied as Tom drank some of his champagne. My father nodded enthusiastically, patting Tom’s shoulder.

“Ah, Wallander! I knew I recognised your face from somewhere. Now, I remember Sylvie telling me that they were doing a new series of that? Was meine liebling lying to me?” He pulled me flush to his side, squeezing me tight and sniffing my hair through his mask.

“No, she wasn’t. We’ve filmed two episodes; we have one more to go, which I think we start filming in five-ish weeks. After the castings for Thor have been announced.” He said, with a twinkle in his eye. I winked at him and my mother appeared next to him, linking arms with him and standing on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek.

“Ooh, in my house as a little girl we had a painting of Thor in the dining room. I didn’t think it really belonged there and when we moved back to Bergen, mama sold it to this strange farmer down the road who you could sometimes hear at night praying loudly.” She said, hiding some escapee blonde hair from underneath her wig. “Nobody was ever sure who he was praying to, but it was rumoured at school that he sacrificed lambs for good harvests. And everyone said that he ate his wife. And she haunted him. And his prayers were just pleas for help.”

My eyebrows furrowed and I looked at her with wide eyes. My father sighed and then chuckled out the breath, “Come along, Viola, it’s time for your medication.” He pulled her away from Tom and they walked up the garden, my father turning around and mouthing, ‘She’s gone insane!’ to us.

I laughed, “And, so those were my parents.”

“Yes, you’re all barking mad, aren’t you? Are they this nice to everyone you bring home?”

I rolled my eyes, “I make a habit of not bringing anybody home. You’re just here to make me look good and to hold my stuff.” He nudged me with his elbow and I smirked, “Give me your glass and take off your socks – we’re going on the bouncy castle.”