Disclaimer: I don't own the characters - I've just borrowed them from SM to have fun with - enjoy xx


CHAPTER EIGHT - Newspapers, nannies and naughty boys!


After an intensive, deep massage from Roger's deft fingers, Edward showed him out and he was alone again with his thoughts.

While he had been lying on the massage table he had re-lived every moment of his night-time experience, which he accepted was just another vivid dream, but he still couldn't get his head round how he came to be saddle-sore. He couldn't believe Alice had the power to transport him back to Medieval England - time travel was a myth; but how come his legs were still aching like hell?

He decided he now wanted a long, relaxing, soak in the tub to aid the healing process and to wash away the pungent and slightly sticky lotions Roger had worked into every muscle and crevice in and on his body. He wandered into the bathroom, turned the water on, and, for good measure, poured in every complimentary bottle of bath oil that had been provided by the hotel; swirling them into the steaming water with his hands. The relaxing scents from the luxurious products filled the bathroom and the effect made him feel slightly light-headed.

Edward was just about to strip off his boxers when he heard a loud knock on the outside door. He looked through the spy hole and saw Jasper pacing up and down in the corridor. With an irritated grunt, he opened the door and let him in.

Jasper had a bundle of newspapers and magazines under his arm and Edward could see his photograph on some of them. Obviously, yesterday's PR initiatives had been considered newsworthy enough to be featured, and Edward could tell, by looking at the satisfied expression on Jasper's face, that he was relieved that Edward had received a decent amount of publicity for his efforts. Edward wondered whether it would be comparable to the wall-to-wall coverage Bella had received when she arrived in London, but he doubted it.

Jasper dropped the bundle on the sofa and called room service, asking for coffee to be sent up immediately and breakfast to be delivered half an hour later, then he made himself comfortable and opened the first of the newspapers.

Edward wasn't going to postpone his soak just because Jasper had turned up. He disappeared into the bathroom as Jasper started reading aloud some of the comments about yesterday's visits. They were all very complimentary and Jasper considered yesterday's PR events had gone down well.

Also, fortunately, there had been no negative fall-out after the airing of the Graham Norton show on Friday night, as Edward's more controversial comments had been edited out, thanks to Jasper's diplomatic skills. He had made several phone calls to the show's producers on Friday morning, saying that Edward had admitted he was out of order, and was going to apologize to Alice at the earliest opportunity. Jasper had not as yet discussed the promised apology with Edward; he was waiting for the right opportunity to broach that subject.

"Who did you dream about last night then?" Jasper shouted through the bathroom door.

"I told you, none of your business, but it wasn't Bella."

"So, you did have another one of your vivid dreams, despite only having one drink and plain steak and salad?"

"Yes I did, and I'm getting sick of it. Now will you stop disturbing me, at least for the next twenty minutes."

Jasper grumbled, but his coffee had just arrived. He poured himself his morning fix, which always lifted his mood, and read some more of the articles, chuckling over some of the lewd comments from the 'ladies' who had been interviewed following Edward's visit to the stage school.

Jasper was seriously considering hiring a bodyguard for Edward after reading some of the more lurid and inappropriate remarks about Edward's 'hotness'. Some of these women probably had very pissed-off husbands at the breakfast table this morning if they were reading a comment attributed to the mother of their children, but Jasper was still very satisfied with the general tone of the coverage as the publicity would do Edward no harm.

After Edward's twenty minutes in the tub was up, Jasper shouted through the bathroom door again.

"What do you think is causing you to have these dreams then? Do you think it's being in England, or jet lag, or something else?"

"It's your fucking girlfriend, Jasper; I think she's cast a spell on me!"

Jasper laughed out loud. "I thought you didn't believe in magic and witches, Edward. I think you're words were, 'its bullshit, fantasy and ju ju', I seem to remember."

"I still believe that, but the dreams started almost immediately after meeting Alice on The Graham Norton Show. It's too much of a coincidence."

Jasper was trying to stop laughing and was pleased there was a closed door between himself and Edward.

"Do you want me to ask her whether she's cast a spell on you?"

"No, Jasper. Absolutely not! I don't want her thinking I believe in magic and witchcraft. She won't let me hear the end of it."

"Okay, I won't mention it, but let me know if you change your mind."

"That's not going to happen so don't hold your breath. Anyway, lover-boy, how did your evening with Alice go?"

"Honestly, Edward, it was magic; pure fucking magic!"


Jasper had postponed Edward's morning and early afternoon appointments that had been arranged for that day so he could rest. His only other commitment wasn't until the evening, when he was booked to take part in a fashion photo-call for Vogue.

This was to be an outdoor shoot, using the night-time views of London as a backdrop. He would be spending much of the night with some very famous models, wearing ridiculously expensive clothing and having his photograph taken in front of some of the city's most familiar landmarks that were being specially lit for the occasion.

Edward still had several hours to kill before he had to be there, so after his bath and breakfast, he relaxed in his room, watching movies and reading the papers. He gave two interviews over the telephone to radio stations and spoke to a reporter from a movie magazine on Skype using Jasper's laptop, so Jasper was happy that he had fulfilled some of his commitments.

At about four in the afternoon, he decided to go for a brisk walk outside to get his muscles working again; preferring not to use the hotel gym where he would probably be recognized and bothered. After choosing a suitable disguise from his luggage, which consisted of an old pair of jeans, a well-worn and faded black hooded top, a plain white t-shirt, unbranded trainers, a black beanie hat to cover his hair and a pair of cheap aviator-style sunglasses to complete the look, he grabbed his phone, wallet and iPod, and left the room.

When he stepped out of the elevator, he could see a small group of paparazzi outside, waiting either for him or other guests of note to appear. After a few minutes of pretending to read tourist information at the front desk, he managed to slip out of the hotel without being spotted by mingling with a group of men and women who had been congregating in the foyer. He shuffled past the photographers who were chatting among themselves, then slipped away from the group as they were boarding a waiting coach taking them to a function.

Edward jogged down a narrow side-road that he knew led to The Strand. When he reached the famous street that was home to theaters, bars and restaurants, he turned left and walked briskly along the bustling pavements until he reached Trafalgar Square. The whole area around the fountains was crowded with tourists from all over the world, and he realized there would be no opportunity of finding anywhere quiet to sit and think, so he carried on walking through Admiralty Arch and onto the 'Queen's driveway', better known as The Mall. He half walked, half jogged, along the long tree-lined avenue that led directly to Buckingham Palace. He could see the imposing building in the distance, stretching out like an impenetrable wall of silver magnificence behind the golden Victoria Memorial, but he didn't intend going that far.

About halfway down the avenue, he made his way through a gap in the ornate railings that ran the whole length of The Mall, behind the line of leafy London Planes. He stepped into the oasis that is St. James' Park, and instantly he was surrounded by beautiful trees and immaculately laid out flower beds set in lush green lawns, and there he found what he was looking for; some relative solitude and silence.

Edward slowed his pace and strolled along the winding footpaths in warm sunshine, until he reached the ornamental lake in the middle of the park. He found a vacant bench where he sat for a while, watching swans and several varieties of ducks paddling around on the water that was glinting in the afternoon sun. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and turned his face up towards the source of the warmth, and after removing his sunglasses, he relished the touch of the sun's rays on his face, seeing its red glow through his closed eyelids.

He eventually opened his eyes and surveyed the other patrons in the park with interest. He was so used to being recognized, he was constantly on the lookout for anyone who might blow his cover, so he watched carefully for that look in a stranger's eyes which would alert him that his identity had been discovered, and he would have to make a quick getaway. He spent the next half hour people-watching, which was something he rarely got the opportunity to do for any length of time, as on this particular sunny Sunday afternoon, no-one gave the scruffy young man, with long legs and a beanie hat, a second look.

Just in front of him he was watching a young mother with two small children sitting on the grass having a picnic. On the next bench, a young couple were kissing and cuddling, oblivious to anyone else around them. Walking past him in a steady stream were tourists from every corner of the globe, clutching maps and cameras, and in the distance, he could hear the sound of a military band playing a stirring marching anthem.

He closed his eyes again and savored this rare moment of anonymity. He was out on his own, in one of the busiest and most vibrant capital cities in the world, and for a few blissful moments no-one knew, or cared, who he was.

After a few more minutes of idyllic relaxation, the peace was shattered by an ear-piercing scream. Edward looked up and saw the young mother holding one struggling child under one arm while trying, unsuccessfully, to pull the other one out of the lake with the other. He jumped off his seat and ran across the grass, kicking his shoes and socks off, and waded into the water, which was only ankle-deep at the edge.

He picked up the wriggling child, who was screaming blue murder and trying to punch and kick him at the same time. He held the obnoxious brat at arm's length as he clambered out of the lake, then set him down on the grass. As he bent down to speak to him about how dangerous water could be, the boy whacked him across the face with his hand.

"I want to play in the water," he shrieked, then dived through Edward's legs heading for the lake again. Edward grabbed his collar and hauled him back to his mother, who was shaking and crying.

"Can't you keep your children under control?" Edward shouted, as he rubbed his face. "A bit of discipline wouldn't go amiss here."

"They're not my children, I'm just their nanny," the young woman sobbed. "I'm not allowed to tell them off or punish them; they can do whatever they like."

Edward still had hold of the boy who was straining against his grip, trying to get back in the lake. His arms were flailing like a windmill and his podgy face was turning purple with rage. Edward guessed he was about five or six, but he was acting like a two-year old. He was tempted to pick him up with one arm and one leg and fling him into the middle of the lake to teach him a lesson. Luckily, common sense prevailed, as he could imagine the headlines that would follow if someone spotted him doing it.

"Why isn't he in school?" Edward asked the weeping girl, forgetting for a minute that it was Sunday.

"He doesn't go to school; he's already been kicked out of two prep schools," the nanny replied. "He just lashes out when he doesn't get his own way. In the end the other parents insisted he was removed. Now no other private school will accept him and his parents won't send him to a state school."

"My God! Being expelled at his age; that's quite something," Edward said; shocked that she had the responsibility for looking after this willful and aggressive child who was completely out of control. He suddenly felt very sorry for this young girl who was flinching every time the child screamed abuse at her, and he guessed the child had lashed out at her in the past.

"Has he ever hit you?" Edward asked, feeling concerned.

The girl nodded and Edward saw more tears misting in her eyes.

"Why do you work for these people; can't you leave?"

"The money's good and I'm lucky to have a job at all," she sniffed.

Edward pitied this wretched girl and didn't have the heart to walk away and leave her.

"Come on," he said, "let's go over to the cafe; I'll buy you a coffee. We can overdose these monsters on candy, so they'll be high as a kite on sugar when their parents get home."

The girl giggled and looked up at him and smiled.

"I'm Bree by the way."

"I'm uh - I'm Eddie; pleased to meet you."

They walked back to the buggy and picnic blanket where the children's belongings were scattered all over the grass. Edward piled everything onto the buggy while Bree dried the struggling boy's legs, then they walked slowly over to the cafe. The boy, whose name was Tristram, (pretentious prick's name if ever I heard one, Edward thought), was placated by the promise of ice cream and had calmed down, but Edward retained a firm grip on his arm to stop him running off. The little girl, Imogen, was oblivious to what was going on, but even she had a permanent scowl on her face.

They found an empty table outside the cafe and Edward ordered coffee and ice cream, plus a couple of extra chocolate bars each for the children. When they were distracted by their treats, Edward questioned Bree again about why she didn't look for another job.

"I'm lucky to have this one, Eddie; you see I can't read or write very well. Everyone thought I was thick at school, but in my early teens I was diagnosed as being severely dyslexic. It was too late for me to get help in time to take any exams, so all I can do is work where I don't need any qualifications."

Bree wasn't able to look at Edward in the eye when she was saying this; she just stirred her coffee with her spoon and fiddled with her napkin.

"But you must have had some training to be a nanny," Edward responded. "Their parents must have asked to see some evidence that you had done some sort of course."

"No they didn't; they were desperate. They've been through so many nannies; none of them lasted more than two weeks. I've been with them for over two months. I was employed by them as a cleaner first of all, but when their last nanny walked out without notice, I took over temporarily as an emergency and they've kept me on. Before I went to work for them I was unemployed and living in a hostel. At least I have my own room now and a nice bed."

Edward was looking at her with incredulity. He guessed she was only about nineteen or twenty, but the weight of the world was sitting on her shoulders. She should have been a carefree teenager, wearing pretty clothes, looking forward to nights out with girlfriends or the thrill of new love affairs. Instead, she looked exhausted and downtrodden; her clothes were cheap and ill-fitting, and her long straggly hair looked as though it hadn't been properly cut for years. Her face was thin and pale and she wore no make-up, but he could tell that under the neglected facade, there was a very lovely young woman waiting to emerge.

"Where are you parents, Bree? Do you have any family at all?"

"No, not really. My mother died when I was quite small, and my father is an alcoholic. He's in and out of hospital because of liver disease and probably won't be around much longer. My brother is in the army and hardly ever comes home; he has a girlfriend and baby in Scotland now. I left home as soon as I finished school and stayed with some friends, but they left London about six months ago as it's getting too expensive to live here. That's when I moved into a homeless person's hostel."

"Is this your first job since you left school?" Edward asked, wondering what other disasters were in her background.

"No, I've worked in hotel kitchens, washing pots. I've been a cleaner and a waitress, but I've never earned enough to support myself. I don't think I'll ever be in that position. That's why I'm grateful for this job, even though it's very stressful."

Edward was feeling increasingly angry as Bree related her story. He could tell that she wasn't making it up to gain sympathy from him, as her body language told a more eloquent story than her words. The hunched and drooping shoulders and intermittent eye contact were all the signals Edward needed to see that this girl was already defeated. She had patently accepted her lot, that she would live on the edge of society for the rest of her life, with no hope of advancement.

As Bree was attending to Imogen, who was covering her face with the ice cream rather than eating it, it occurred to Edward that he had never spoken to anyone so poor and without hope before. The kids at the Prince's Trust were bright and capable, and had a future ahead of them, but this girl had no support mechanisms around her to help her escape the drudgery of her current situation.

He reflected on his own upbringing. His parents were exceedingly wealthy, even by Californian standards. He had wanted for nothing, in a material sense, when he was growing up. The Cullen household had 'staff', in that his mother only got her hands wet in the bathroom; he couldn't ever remember her loading the washing machine, or washing dishes. His father wouldn't know which end of a screwdriver to hold if anything needed fixing in one of their many residences. As far as he knew, their staff were adequately rewarded, but then he realized that whether they were well paid or not had never occurred to him before.

Bree was drinking the last of her coffee and was making preparations to leave. Tristram was starting to get bored, and she could see another tantrum brewing.

"Thank you so much for helping me out, Eddie, and thanks for the coffee," Bree said, as she stood up to go.

Edward helped her strap Imogen into the buggy and loaded all her bags onto the handles. As they walked back towards the lake, Edward put his hand on her arm and pulled her to a stop.

"Bree, if you could do anything in your life, what would it be?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Just think about it; what have you always dreamed of doing?"

Bree thought about it for a moment and then her face lit up with a broad smile.

"I want to write books; children's stories mainly. I've got lots of ideas in my head, but because I can't read or write I'll never be able to do it."

Edward was taken aback by her response. He was expecting her to say something like, 'live on a tropical island with Harry Styles, in a lovely house with a yacht,' which is what he expected most girls of her age would say. But Bree just wanted self-esteem before material things, which made him feel totally unworthy of his own privileged situation at that moment.

They came to where Edward had been sitting when Tristram launched himself into the lake; Bree indicated that she needed to go in the opposite direction.

"Thank you so much again for helping me out, Eddie; I'm really grateful. It's been lovely talking to you this afternoon."

Edward offered his hand for her to shake.

"It's been an education talking to you Bree; I just hope some of your goodness rubs off on these children."

Bree blushed at the compliment, turned the buggy and started walking in the direction of Birdcage Walk. Turning to wave to Edward, she called back to him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like Edward Cullen?"

Edward smiled. "Yeah, loads of times. Do you like him?"

"Nah, he's not my type. He's really up himself; thinks he's God's gift to women apparently. He's a good actor though. I'm a Bradley bitch!"

Edward burst out laughing and went and sat down on the bench again; watching her as she disappeared from view.

He leaned back on the seat and stretched his legs out in front of him, reflecting on what had just happened. For the first time in his life he had 'connected' with someone from the 'real world', and not from the false existence of money and fame he had been born into and had never left.

He closed his eyes again and imagined what Bree's life would be like in one, two, or ten years time, and felt depressed. He now regretted not offering to help her; he was sure he knew someone, who knew someone, who could help her get out of the rut she was in.

As he was contemplating this, he heard Bruce Springsteen singing from his inside pocket, so he opened his eyes and flicked his cell phone open and saw that it was Jasper calling.

"Where the heck are you, Edward?" Jasper yelled down the phone, causing Edward to hold it away from his ear.

"In St. James's Park, enjoying the sunshine. I'll be back shortly. What the hell!"

"What is it; what's going on Edward?"

"Never mind; I'll call you back in a minute."

Edward had spotted Bree struggling to drag Tristram out of the lake again; this time she was successful. She pulled him, kicking and screaming, across the grass towards the picnic blanket, which was now back in the same place as before. She managed to strap Imogen into the buggy without letting go of Tristram, then produced a towel out of her bag and started cleaning him up, while he was yelling his head off and trying to hit her at the same time.

Edward got up and sprinted towards her, wondering why she had come back to the lake when she had told him they were going home.

"Bree!" he called out while he was approaching her, but she didn't turn around.

"Bree!" he called again, and the girl looked up as he was standing over her.

"You must be mistaken; my name isn't Bree; it's Sharon."

Edward's mouth dropped open and for a brief moment he was at a loss as to what to say or do. It was obvious the girl wasn't lying, as there was no hint of recognition in her eyes when she spoke. She just turned back to carry on cleaning up the brat, who was making the exercise as difficult as possible for her.

He turned around without saying any more and walked away, realizing instantly and without question that he had dozed off on the bench and had dreamt the events of the previous hour or so.

He sat down on the bench again and put his head in his shaking hands as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He licked his lips, to see whether he could taste the remnants of his cup of coffee on them, but he couldn't. He felt his face where Tristram had slapped him, but it wasn't tender any more. He felt the bottom of his jeans to see whether they were damp, but they were bone-dry. He patted his hands on his pockets, and where the woman in the cafe had given him coins as change from a twenty-pound note, his pockets were empty.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he said aloud, but there was no-one there to answer his question.

He got up to leave and was heading towards the park exit, thinking about Bree/Sharon and feeling totally confused, when he stopped in his tracks. He flicked his cell phone open and called Jasper.

"What's going on, Edward?"

"Nothing, Jasper. I'll be back at the hotel soon. I'll get a cab when I get to The Mall. Can you text me a phone number; I've got something I need to do first."

When Edward received the information he needed from Jasper, he jogged back to the cafe and asked the man behind the counter whether he could borrow a pen and have a piece of paper. After jotting down some words and a phone number, he made his way back to where Sharon was sitting with the children, who were now eating biscuits.

Without hesitation, he walked up to Sharon and said 'excuse me' to get her attention.

"Look, Sharon, you may think I'm mad; can I ask if these are your children."

"No, I'm their nanny, why?"

"Do you like being a nanny?"

"No, I would rather be ..."

"Don't say anything more, because if you tell me you want to write children's books I'm going to check myself in to the nearest psychiatric hospital because I'm losing my mind. Here's the phone number of The Prince's Trust; they may be able help you do what you really want to do. Give them a call today; they might be able to turn your life around."

"How - ?"

"Stop – don't say it. Just call the number; they'll help you do something with your life."

Edward turned on his heel and jogged away from the bewildered girl, and didn't stop running until he got back to The Mall where he hailed a cab. Within fifteen minutes he was in the elevator at The Savoy, heading up to his suite. Jasper was already there, pacing up and down anxiously as they were already running late for their Vogue photo session.

Edward crashed through the door and went straight into the bathroom without saying a word to Jasper, who could tell just by looking at him that he was agitated. Jasper opened his cell phone and found the number for his contact at Vogue and gave their apologies, saying that Edward would be about an hour late due to unforeseen circumstances. He flipped his phone shut, just as Edward let out a strangled cry.

"What the hell has happened, Edward? You've got to talk to me."

"I've lost my fucking mind, Jasper, that's what's fucking happened."

"Come out and talk to me. I've put Vogue on hold for the moment, but you must either talk to me or get help from a professional."

After a few minutes, Edward unlocked the bathroom door and came out. Jasper had a whiskey waiting for him and he pointed to the sofa, indicating that he should sit down.

Edward accepted the tumbler but didn't drink; he just swirled the amber liquid around as Jasper watched him intently.

After a few minutes Edward was ready to talk.

"I went to the park; got talking to a girl who was looking after some kids. We had a coffee together and then said goodbye."

"Well, so what?"

"It didn't happen! I was just...oh God; when you called me, you interrupted my daydream."

"Not again!" Jasper uttered, and put his head in his hands.

"After we'd talked in the cafe, I watched the girl walk away then you rang. I was talking to you and she was back on the grass in front of me again. It was all so real Jasper."

"Sorry, I don't understand why you are so freaked out? It's not unusual to have daydreams."

"I know, but this one was so...so real again; but totally different to the ones I've had when I was in bed?"

"Are you sure you want to be telling me this?"

"The ones I've had before; well, it's been like I've been taking part in someone else's fantasies and I've been a willing participant in something that I would never do. Plus there's been a 'dream' Edward, and a 'real-me' Edward, as though I was viewing myself as an outsider."

"Explain!"

"I've heard myself saying things I wouldn't normally say, and obviously I've done things or taken part in things that I wouldn't do in a million years, like shagging Tanya for instance, but this one - it was me talking."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! The girl was almost destitute, and she told me about her shitty life, and... "

"What, you mean you actually talked to a normal person; that's not usual for you?"

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

Jasper took a mouthful of his own drink before he launched into some home truths that Edward needed to hear.

"Edward, all your life you've been surrounded by rich and famous people; even your school was full of the children from the glitterati of Hollywood. You've led a privileged existence since the day you were born. You haven't got a clue what the real world is like for ordinary people."

"That's crap, Jasper. Of course I know what's going on out there, and I have talked to 'normal' people before." Edward did the 'air quotes' gesture to emphasize the point.

"Have you? Have you really talked to normal, everyday people, Edward? Tell me when?"

Edward thought for a second. "Okay, the girls who do my make-up on set, they're normal."

"Alright, what do you talk to them about?"

"Errr - I don't know; general chit-chat about the movie, I suppose."

"So, you talk about you and what's going on in your life don't you. Tell me, Edward, can you honestly remember a conversation where you asked the people who look after you; wait on you hand and foot; do all the crappy jobs; anything about their lives? You can't, can you? Edward, you've been so wrapped up in your own self-importance for the whole of your nearly twenty eight years, you wouldn't know how to start that sort of dialogue would you?"

Edward stared at Jasper, then looked down into his drink that still remained untouched.

"So, I'm an arrogant shit then, am I?"

"Sorry, Edward, but yes you are. You've never engaged with people who are 'not worth knowing', because frankly you're not interested in their lives, are you? You probably don't realize you're doing it, but sometimes you blank people who are speaking to you as though they're not there. I'm not blaming you, I'm blaming your parents who kept you in an artificial bubble while you were growing up. I suspect the school you went to gave lessons on 'how to avoid talking to people who aren't going to make you money, or advance you professionally'."

"So, not only am I arrogant, but I'm shallow and arrogant?"

"What do you think?

"I don't know, Jasper. I don't know anything now. All I know is that this girl got to me; not in the Bella sort of way. She just - I suppose she opened my eyes to what's going on out there."

"In what way?"

Before answering, Edward thought about their conversation in the cafe, and his reaction to the air of hopelessness that hung over Bree as she related the story of how she got to be where she was, and that she was grateful just to be employed. He realized now that for the first time in his life he had felt empathy towards someone who was not successful, or at least not striving to be successful.

"I guess I realized that we are not all born equal. The majority of people on the planet don't have the same opportunities I had. Before I met the imaginary Bree, or whatever her name is, I considered anyone who didn't succeed was just lazy, and couldn't be bothered trying hard to improve themselves. I now understand that...what I mean is that, if you're dealt a shit hand to start with, it's very difficult, sometimes impossible, to make anything of your life."

"Do you think you've worked hard to get in the position you are now? Give me an honest answer, Edward."

Edward thought about it for the moment, and then shook his head in resignation.

"I did work hard at school; I wanted to be the best at everything for reasons that are my own, but I had everything else handed to me on a plate I suppose. I was born stinking rich and from a good looking gene-pool." Edward pointed at his face when he said that. "I went to good schools, but I've never had to sit an exam in my life. Now I'm worth millions, because I can act, and I've never had to work hard at doing that; it just came naturally. It's not fair really, is it?"

"Life isn't fair, Edward. There have always been the haves and have-nots, but as long as you realize you've got where you are through a combination of good fortune and luck, plus some God-given talent, and you are kind and generous to those who haven't had the opportunities you've had, then you'll be okay. It's not too late to change your attitude and the habits of a lifetime."

"So, I've got to be nice to people now then?"

"Yes, and you can start by apologizing personally to the people from Vogue for being late when we get there, which means not getting me to do your dirty work as usual!"

"Do I do that?"

"Yes, all the time. Now get in the bathroom and sort yourself out. I'll call Vogue to say we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

Edward put his drink down and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower while Jasper called his contact at Vogue. After he finished the call, Jasper sat on the sofa and reflected on the conversation that had just taken place.

"Was Edward finally maturing at last?" Jasper asked himself. Whatever had happened to him in the last few days had had a profound impact on his personality, which was good news. Jasper's thoughts turned to Alice and he wondered whether she really had done something to him, like cast a spell on him. But, like Edward, he didn't believe in witchcraft either, but he decided he was going to ask her straight out when they next spoke.

Edward came out of the bathroom in his boxers, then slung on the first pieces of clothing he touched. Within a few minutes he was ready to go.

Jasper looked at the Adonis that was standing in front of him and yes, he would give any top model a run for their money, and he could do it without any effort at all.

"Life isn't fucking fair," he muttered to himself, as he pushed Edward out the door.


A/N

So the dreams are starting to have a positive effect on Edward, but will they have a permanent effect? The 'new' Edward takes his first tentative steps in the next few chapters. More fun, a bit of angst, mixed in with a dollop of Shakespeare.

Thanks again to my pre-reader Caroline, who makes a guest appearance in the next chapter, and thanks again for your reviews, especially where you are guessing what is going to happen next. It is great that you are involved in the story.

Joan xx