A nice long chapter to make up for the wait on the last one. C'mon please review and I may create a present for you all! Pips

Chapter Twenty-Nine

As soon as I woke up, I knew I was alone. Actually it was as I began to surface that I became aware that the bed next to me was empty – the same way it had been last night when I had fallen asleep, flat and straight, the sheets flat and cool. It was still the same way now; I had spent the night by myself.

Squinting at the clock I realised that it was pushing nine, obviously my exhaustion had made me have a deep long sleep and I should have felt refreshed and raring to go. Instead I was ill at ease after last night, seeing Cluinn perform for I knew it signified the end of the nice safe little nest I had built for myself and the start of something entirely different. I liked to fool myself that I was a flexible happy-go-lucky person who embraced change and chance, but in truth; I craved security. I wanted to know that my boyfriend would wander through the door every evening at the same time; wished that he could come home to a charming domestic setup, possibly with a dog and a small child playing around my feet as I cooked up something delicious in the kitchen. I suppose it wasn't that different to how I remembered my childhood.

Instead I had managed to fall in love with a man whose life was as changeable as his moods were volatile, who claimed to love me and often showed that he did, but who was not willing to stop his crusade to support my dreams. There was never going to be peace and stability with Ric, in my heart of hearts I knew that – unfortunately the very same organ had also decided to go and attach itself to him and I knew that I would rather be happy with the life he offered me; then be without him.

The thought uppermost in my mind, I found the strength to mentally brace my shoulders and slide out of bed, flinging open the curtains onto another beautiful spring day. I could not fathom any other noise in the flat and a quick survey of Richard's bedroom next door did not reveal him to be there. However the duvet was creased and his clothes of last night sat in a heap in the corner, alongside the ridiculous boots. He had come home at least; I reasoned pragmatically sleeping in his room to avoid waking me.

The washing in my arms I went into the living room and saw that he had already woken, the curtains were open; a textbook languished on the table alongside a scrawled note informing me that he had gone to the library to study and hoped to be back at about two o'clock. Great, the morning to myself, I grimaced.

Yet, it did allow me time to wander the shops and find an engagement present for Alanya and Jim, given the announcement made last night. As I strolled down the King's road towards Sloane Square I mused over the situation, wondering if that had added to my unease of last night. I didn't expect any marriage proposals from Richard; to be honest didn't really want them at this stage of his life, for it would not change the manic way he surfed through his days. And if I was truthful with myself, we had only really been calling ourselves partners for four months – we were not in a position to join ourselves together for life.

But I still envied Alanya and her good fortune in finding a man who loved her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. I was aware that Jim was probably not the easiest person to live with, a couple of comments she had made attested to it. But they loved each other, had been together for years and I craved the same sort of intimacy and coupling as their relationship. The joy she must feel having a ring on her finger; a sign of the pledge that they were there for each other.

It was difficult to know what to buy such a couple. I had only been around to their flat a few times and was amazed at the blandness of it. Alanya secretly admitted that she was too busy to spend much attention making it a homely place. It bucked at my very nature and I vaguely had the idea of giving them something to help them make their flat a true home.

It was actually a pleasant way to go shopping, strolling down one of the best retail streets in London, gazing in the windows and strolling around the stores with a vague idea of what to buy. The sun shone which always put the people of London in a good mood. Most of the year they scurried around, avoiding eye contact and communication – hurrying between shops; meetings and appointments, all with the minimum of inconvenience to their lives. But when the sun shone suddenly everyone slowed down, smiles brightened the faces of normally sour London people and for a few hours or days (depending on how long the sun shone for) it was a much cheerier city.

I loved browsing through the shops on the road, examining photo frames and crystal vases as I went, rejecting different scented candles and pictures and fussing over cushions and cups. It was a pleasant way to while away a morning and actually much easier to do it without a man, for in my experience it was exactly the sort of shopping that the opposite sex detested. It took me over two hours to work my way down the length of the street, wandering through Hobbs, mulling over gifts in Graham & Greene and being seduced into the homey prints at Cath Kidston. Of course it was easy to be distracted by the joys of L K Bennett and I very nearly blew the present budget on a pair of beautiful sandals that called to me through the window; but managed to stop and gain control of myself.

In this way I manage to walk almost the entire length of the street and over two hours later still had nothing to give the happy couple. I could see Peter Jones looming in the distance, the bastion of civilised taste and decided to try my luck in there. More successfully I had managed to prevent myself from moping over my boyfriend for a whole morning – much easier then staying at home and waiting for him to return.

A suitable present purchased (crystal vase – unoriginal, but always useful) I wandered around Sloane Square towards the tube, reluctant to return to the flat straight away for I did not want the silence of my relationship echoed back at me. Instead I dallied outside shop windows; greedily drinking in the beautiful perfume and jewellery they had on display, pretending that I could afford to waste my money on such fripperies. My eyes grazed over the charm bracelets and silver gifts in the jewellers and I realised what I was looking for without even being aware. I was subconsciously searching out the rings, thinking about what I would choose. I am sure Jim and Alanya were, even now probably purchasing some huge diamond rock over in Hatton Gardens.

Disgusted at myself I turned away; chastising my subconscious for having such an unpractical romantic streak. This was not what I wanted, I counselled myself, not what I needed. I stalked past the tasteful displays in the window, quite ready to return home when my eye caught something. There in the last display cubicle was a collection of silver and cloth bracelets. 'Friendship bracelets' the sign claimed, although they were a far cry from the knotted cotton creations of my youth. Instead these were carefully crafted silk wound around a series of silver pegs, creating a masculine and modern piece of jewellery.

I hesitated and bit my lip, my eyes honing in on the three figured price that was subtly displayed near the jewellery. Richard was my friend – the bracelets were funky enough that he would wear them and I would feel a little bit better, knowing that he carried something of mine with him; something that was tangible, rather then empty declarations. Before I could dally any longer I swept into the store and purchased one, engraving the small disk that adjusted the size; with our initials.

The flat was cool and silent when I got back, but for once I was glad for my feet were aching and guilt was building a fire in my belly. Hanging over my wrist was the small desirable bag with my purchase in it which had seemed so obvious when I bought it. Now I was not so sure. Ric had never bought anything of such value for me; even his Christmas present had been a pretty scarf. Since I had known him there had been no gifts, cards or small mementoes exchanged. We had not been together for each other's birthdays, but even still he was not easily parted with his money.

I had never asked for rent, never had to suggested he shared in buying consumables for the house as he would automatically share in the shopping; but suddenly spending a large amount of money on such a gift seemed silly. However there was little I could do – the engraving alone meant it could not be returned.

"Hello," his voice sounded husky as he walked in through the door, shutting it with a bang behind him. "Hey, what's that?" I looked up as he walked over and realised that his gaze was focused on the elaborately wrapped box that now sat on the dining room table.

"An engagement present for Alanya and Jim," I replied. "A crystal vase." He smiled and nodded, not commenting as he placed a leisurely arm around my shoulder and I tilted my face up to receive a kiss. His lips grazed mine and it was over – perfunctory and quick.

"That's nice," he called as he wandered off to his bedroom, dumping his bag on the wooden floor so it landed with a thump, attesting to the weight of the contents. "I still can't believe she said yes," he added as he came back and stood next to me again.

"What, you mean? Has Jim asked her before?" I was shocked. In my mind their engagement seemed so right and obvious that it didn't occur to me that Alanya might have previously turned him down.

"Oh yeah, several times! Have you had lunch? D'you want a sandwich?" I blinked at the changed of conversation and nodded; although my forehead was creased in a frown as I followed him into the kitchen.

"How many is several?" I asked, watching as he made us lunch.

"I don't know three – four maybe." His voice was muffled as he looked inside the fridge. "There's no ham left, so it's chicken or tuna." He emerged with the half open can and started to make tuna mayonnaise very messily.

"Whatever," I didn't want to know about the mundanity of the food supply, rather the facts of a relationship I believed to be perfect. "When was this, Jim asking Alanya I mean?"

"Oh, well when they graduated was the first time and then when she signed up with a modelling agency was the second." He paused after he spread the sandwich filling on the bread and licked the fork in an absent minded way. "Third I think was when he moved down to London with her and they got the flat and the band generated a bit of interest and so last night would have been four – and she accepted. She always turned him down before on the basis that he had no plans with his life and she didn't want to live off his parent's largess and take all the trappings that come with it. She wanted him to achieve something. I guess she is satisfied about that now, so she accepted. There," he turned with a flourish two sandwiches on plates which he presented to me with a grin on his face as if he had cooked a three course meal. My eyes dropped to the food he proffered, a dog eared tuna sandwich with shredded lettuce, the kitchen behind him looking as if he had been killing something, not assembling lunch and my mind turned back to our conversation of months ago.

"Carrot or stick?" I queried.

"Carrot please." He knew exactly what I was talking about for the grin widened into a smile.

"It looks a work of art and I am sure will be the best sandwich I have ever eaten!" My words rang insincerely, but it wrenched an addictive laugh out of Richard as we sat down at the table, sitting opposite each other and munching in silence.

"What's in the other bag," he said after he had hovered up the food on his plate and some of mine. He nodded to the smaller parcel and I realised that I had left my gift in full view next to the vase.

"Oh," I blushed and reached out a sneaky hand, drawing it to me and onto my lap. "Nothing!"

"Yeah, sure. What have you been spending your money on now Izzy, show me. It can't be another pair of shoes, the bag is too small!" He leant across the table and grabbed it off my lap with a swift movement and a laugh, dangling it off his fingers and swinging it in front of me. "Links of London, aye?"

"Oh sod it," my sunny mood evaporated with his teasing and I pouted. "It's for you anyway, but I wasn't going to give it to you yet. Still you have it now, so just open it!" I gestured to the small elegant bag, watching the shock flash across his eyes and the smile drop from his mouth at my comment.

"You shouldn't be buying me things Izzy," he said softly as he pushed his plate out of the way and put the bag down in front of him.

"Well," I shivered slightly with the emotion, not sure if he would reject my gift before seeing it, suddenly ashamed of what I had done. "I just wanted you to have something; to remember me when you go off touring and I am stuck back here. And don't worry, it's not cuff links – I don't think you will have much call for those currently. I watched him intently, pretty sure he was frowning, although it was impossible to tell as he wore his flesh coloured domino that hid his forehead. However his mouth was drawn into a line and his eyes fixed on the present as he deftly unknotted the ribbon and pulled out the small box.

"Izzy!" His tone of voice showed delight and joy, chastising at the same time as he pulled the bracelet from the box, holding it up and examining it. "That's fantastic." He turned the small disk over and saw the letters engraved on its surface. "I-F-S, R-I-S," he muttered reading what I had chosen. "How did you know my middle name? And what's yours?"

"You left your driving licence on the dinning room table for over a week; Richard Ian Stewart" My voice came out crisper then I wished, his reaction not being exactly what I had dreamt it would. "And mine is Frances, after my mother!"

"Iz!" His voice was gentle, picking up on my distress as he usually did. He moved over to me and crouched next to my chair, so that our eyes were level. "Put it on me please," he said holding out his wrist. "And I promise not to take it off, like a proper friendship bracelet." He fixed me with a fathomless stare, holding out his left arm and I pulled it tight onto his wrist, above his watch, glad that he accepted the gift. The small task complete, he stood up, pulling me with him and sought my lips, holding my face in his hand and gave me a long drenching kiss, so that my knees melted and I clung to him. "That is the most wonderful and kindest gift anyone has given me," he murmured staring down at it. "Thank you darling!"

"Silly question I know," I added as I came up for air. "Are you busy this evening?" He gave a grimaced and nodded his head; my face falling as I watched the action.

"We are actually at some party, concert thing. I barely have an idea what we are doing one day to the next, just plugged it all into this and when it beeps at me I go where it says!" He pulled an iPhone out of his pocket and scrolled through it. "A present from the Partners when I left the law firm," he explained taking at my bemused glance at the expensive electronics, not part of his student budget. "Here you go, Rock Beast over at the Forum – a chance to witness the newest bands breaking into the world of rock." He read the explanation in a dry voice, making it sound quite ridiculous, rather then the opportunity it was. "Did you want to come?"

"If it's going to be like last night," I paused and watched him carefully. "Would you mind awfully if I said not really? It isn't much fun hanging around with nothing to do and not being allowed to talk to you or see you."

"Devlin have a go at you? Did he stop you from being with me last night?" He demanded, looking up from scrolling through his calendar, his eyes narrowed.

"Not really," I replied slowly, unsure if I should tell him about the name change. "But there was hardly the opportunity to even get near and I don't really want to spoil your image." He looked up at that. "Well I am not blonde and five foot eleven with a small brain and large boobs!" He started to laugh at my description.

"Is that what a rockers girlfriend should be like?" I gave a shrug. "Oh god Izzy, you are so funny at times. He pulled me to him again and kissed me. "If you don't want to come that's fine, I understand." I looked up into his eyes and mused. I don't think he really did.


He departed a while later, his costume chosen from the bewildering array of clothes that were now in the second bedroom. I found it less awkward then last night, actually helping him create the image he was going to present and we had settled for an old pair of boots, black cotton trousers and a thin grey t-shirt with a print on it. Worn with a simple black half mask it was understated but striking and I thought it would match the music they had chosen to play.

Ric dispatched with another knee weakening kiss, I settled back on the sofa, feeling a little more at peace with myself. I knew that he was disappointed that I did not want to come and hang around back stage but I didn't know how to admit to him that I found his appearance as the Phantom intimidating and Cluinn's rise and frantic push to stardom unsettling.

Now that I had the afternoon and evening to myself, I perversely found myself wishing for company. Not the sort that I would have been offered back stage, but to spend some time with friends simply having fun. Then my phone rang.

After last night I had forgotten about Tatty's offer to come out with her and Ralph, but her bubbly insistence on the other end of the line was hard to refuse and I found myself wandering into the lobby of Claridge's around eight o'clock; where we had agreed to meet.

I saw Ralph first, standing at the bar, smiling his devastating smile and flirting slightly with the girl serving behind. My gaze then slide behind to where I could hear Tatty's strident voice talking over the telephone. "Izzy!" Ralph caught me first, an arm around my waist and a kiss on the cheek – no repetition of how we parted. "Tat is just over there, what would you like to drink?"

"Oh, um, G&T please," I asked in a flurry, caught out with his unassuming friendly manner. 'Blonde Buffoon', Ric's nickname echoed in my head as I took him in my sights, my smile widening with the private joke. Ralph saw the megawatt beam and flashed me one in return; obviously thinking I was flirting.

"Hey Izzy," Tatiana greeted me as I sat down at their table, once again exchanging air kisses. "You look fab!" The Dolce & Gabbana dress had come into use again and I knew it was true. Alanya's sense of style had come to the fore and as it had only had an outing for a few hours last night, I decided to press it into service again. "Glad you dressed up, thought we might hit Annabel's later and they are still ridiculously tight with the dress code." I tried to look nonchalant at the thought of going to the exclusive Mayfair club that was frequented by the rich and famous of London. It was where Fiona Farrow had always wanted to belong – her request for membership was repeatedly turned down. It made me realised how different Tatty and Ralph's life was to the one I lived. Obviously they did work and were both successful in their chosen fields, but they had never known the hard grind, their lives buoyed up by Daddy's money.

"Here you go girls," Ralph came over with the drinks, his fingers brushing mine as he handed me a gin. "Here's to a good evening." His toast must have worked because after a couple of drinks in the hotel we wandered off into the sunlight evening, genially bickering about where to go next and ended up in a bar in Soho knocking back cocktails. It didn't take me long to feel exceedingly light headed, I had not eaten much that day apart from Ric's sloppy sandwich at lunch and a grazing of crudities from the empty fridge at home before I came out. The nibbles that were served with the drinks hardly filled a space and by eleven o'clock I was feeling quite the worse for wear. I wasn't use to the heavy drinking that most of my peer group indulged in at the weekend; the benders that the newspapers proclaimed about didn't often feature in my life.

"Izzy, you okay?" I heard Tatiana's voice come from afar as I sat there, my head spinning, trying to concentrate on the walls around me. I kept tuning out of the conversation, most of the names and facts not relevant and had instead indulged in my constantly filled glass. "Ralph, I think Izzy is a bit out of it, you should take her home."

"Oh, she's okay, aren't you Izzy? We were just going to head over to Annabel's."

"No seriously you bone head; she doesn't look well at all. Be a gentlemen and make sure she's home safely and then come back here – it's not too far." I didn't object to being taken back allowing myself to be hustled from the downstairs Soho bar we had been in and bundled into a taxi, with Ralph. He put a protective arm around me, to stop me from being thrown around on the back seat, laughing slightly as I stiffened before relaxing into his secure hold.

"Don't worry Izzy, you're safe," I heard him whisper in my ear, before moments later his lips grazed my forehead. Panic flared through my body, closely followed by the warmth of seduction. I was attracted to this man; couldn't help it. He was good looking, charming and so far a gentleman. All evening he had pandered to me, opening doors, buying drinks, making conversation and my ego had been stoked by the attentiveness of his behaviour.

"Ralph, I mustn't..." I started, but my pathetic resistance was silenced when his lips came down on mine, kissing them with a leisurely enjoyment. When he drew back I sat there, clasped in his arms, trembling with passion, worry and guilt.

"You are so gorgeous Izzy," he said softly, running his hands through my hair, brushing it back behind my ears gently. Tears welled up in my eyes as alcohol bought my muddled thoughts to the surface and his hand stilled as he watched one run down my cheek. "Hey Izzy, don't cry – I just think you are a bit drunk," he crooned into my ear. "Don't worry, I won't do anything, we are almost home." Relief flooded through my body as we drew up outside and with a few muttered words to the driver Ralph walked me to the door, smiling as I pulled my key out.

"Thank you for taking me home Ralph," I said as politely as I could manage, although my head swam with the beginnings of a vicious hangover.

"Anytime Izzy, hope you feel okay tomorrow, see you soon." He moved in and I braced myself for another kiss, only this time his lips brushed my forehead. He obviously had noticed my vulnerable state and I hesitated as he walked back to the taxi, waving to him as he drove off. I was trembling as I climbed the stairs to my flat, hangover aside I had very nearly succumbed to him again. I could not understand why I could not open my mouth in his presence and tell him that I had a boyfriend. It was clear now that he was chasing me and I had to put a stop to his actions and soon.

A light had been left on in the kitchen as I walked in causing me to frown – as I was convinced that I had left the flat in darkness. Taking off my high heels, I tiptoed across to the bedroom and peered around the door. There curled up in bed was Ric, his arms thrown up around his head in usual pose, fast asleep. He had come home to me and I hadn't been there! As silently as I could I undressed and climbed in next to him, the room spinning with my hangover.


"Izzy," the rough Scottish burr permeated my dreams and I opened one eye a chink, feeling the weight of a hangover crashing down.

"Euugghh," was the only noise I was able to emit, whilst my mouth was dry as the Sahara and a pneumatic drill was pounding away on my skull. I opened the other eye and nearly recoiled at the sight of Richard's face inches from mine – his indigo gaze boring into mine, eyes narrowed with an unreadable emotion.

"Are you hungover?" I felt his hands close in an iron grip on the top of my arms and the look in his eyes hardened into disgust. "Where the hell were you last night? What were you doing?"

"Invited out," I muttered trying to roll over and escape the blazing stare, which was difficult with his bruising grip. "New work colleagues," I added, trying to cut off any questions before they were asked. He exhaled through his noise; a sound of disgust, but at least he let go of my body and I heard him move through the flat, returning moments later with a large glass of water which he put next to me on the bedside table.

"Painkillers," he pushed two small tablets into my hand and then wordlessly handed me the glass, silently watching as I tried to sip from it without raising my head too much. "Go back to sleep." His voice was gruff with anger as he took the glass from me and strode out the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I gratefully sunk back into slumber, feeling too ill to do much more.

The digital numbers on the clock read past midday when I emerged once more, feeling only mildly sore, rather then with a pounding headache and I slid out of bed, desperately wanting a shower. "Ric?" I walked out of the bedroom, hearing nothing and wondered if he was still in, if his presence that morning had simply been a figment of my imagination. I couldn't hear or see him and so lumbered to the bathroom and climbed into the shower, reviving myself under the hot spray as I lavished my exotic detoxifying shower gel over my body, scrubbing away the smell and taste of the alcohol and trying to purge myself of the nagging guilt that sat in my conscience.

Thoroughly cleansed and feeling a bit more human I wrapped a large towel around myself and padded back to my bedroom, glancing in all the rooms on the way through. All empty, no Ric; not that I was surprised. I had put one foot over the threshold of my boudoir when the front door opened and I spun around, glad that Ric had not deserted me for the whole day. He stood there, staring at me, his hands weighted down with supermarket carrier bags; not returning the smile I flashed at him.

"You're up!" It was a statement rather then a question and I couldn't help but notice the frosty tone it was delivered in.

"Yeah, feeling much better – managed to sleep it off!" I responded with an overly cheery voice, trying to compensate for his dour mood, but he simply shrugged and walked into the kitchen, ignoring my state of undress, instead the sounds said he was unpacking the shopping. There was little I could do except get dressed quickly and join him in the chore.

"You didn't have to do the shopping," I commented five minutes later, having thrown on jeans and a t-shirt and rushed to join him in the kitchen, trying to make it quite clear I was not wallowing in self-pity.

"There was no milk, bread, tea, cereal; fruit;" he shrugged. "It had to be done." I hadn't been mistaken, his tone was abrupt and hard, no smile to soften his words; his jaw clenched and his brooding black domino on his face. "Nothing to eat." He shut the cupboard door forcefully and then pushed past me without a word and marched out of the small kitchen; leaving me standing there, guilt and shame rolling around my emotions.

With a sigh I set about making a conciliatory cup of tea for both of us and carried them through to his bedroom where he was rapidly typing away at his computer, sitting as the desk with his back to the door. I moved over to his side without saying a word and stood there, the mugs held in my hand, one proffered to him. He indicated a space next to his elbow with a nod of his head and a muttered word that might have been thanks, but never took his eyes off the screen or stopped typing.

"Dissertation going well?" I tried to make my voice cheery, moving away from his side, perching on the bed and sipping from my cup. He simply grunted in reply, not deigning to answer and engage in conversation. I tried again. "Was last night okay?"

"Yeah," the word was abrupt, flat and disconnected, discouraging further questioning. I knew there was only one way to get a response from him and with a small internal grimace and little thought for his emotions I walked over and pull the mask off his face with one swift movement, knowing that it would rile him. It worked. "Fuck it Izzy!" He exploded, jumping up from his chair as if there were a fire cracker underneath, swinging around to face me. His jaw was clenched tightly, hands balled in fists by his side. "Why did you do that? Give it back." He held out a hand towards me; his face set in a grim line.

"Because I would like you to talk to me, rather then grunt. Civil conversation that is the key. Let's start again shall we? Why not try 'Hello Izzy, glad to see that you are up'"?

"Oh, we are on the poor Isabella tack are we?" His nostrils flared and he flicked his fingers of the upraised hand, wordlessly demanding the return of his mask.

"Poor Isabella!" The words were like a red rag to a bull and I immediately felt my ire rising. "I simply asked you to stop behaving like a twat and engage in some civil conversation, which you seem incapable of. I am not looking for any sympathy!" He took a step towards me and with a quick movement plucked the mask from my hand, glaring at me as he did so.

"This is a pointless conversation and I have work to do." It was his maddening grown-up voice, the tone of the lawyer who knows better; the adult lecturing the naughty child. He put the covering back on his face and then wordlessly turned around and sat down again, his spine rigid. I had to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at his back.

"Fine," my voice was tight and I spun on my heel marching out to the living room and sitting in the chair, finishing my cup of tea as I alternately sulked and fumed. It took five minutes before he stormed out the bedroom, standing behind the sofa, bracing his hands on the back and fixing me with his intense stare.

"Alanya was there last night," he opened. "Alanya and Sandy's squeeze who has known him all of three minutes. But my girlfriend, no she said she wasn't up to it. Fine, I understood – it was going to be a late night and she was tired so I rush home afterwards to be with her, at the wrath of my manager who wanted me to stay and schmooze and try and sell the band. And then when I got home it was to an empty flat and it turns out you were out partying. Had you decided in advance? Why didn't you just tell me when I asked you to come rather then making up some cock and bull about not fitting in!" His nostrils flared with anger, eyes flashing as he scowled at me; obviously waiting for the defence to speak.

"It was my manager from my new job. I had to quit my old job, because my former boss fancied you and was making my life hell because you wouldn't play ball with her, admittedly twisted, plans." I stressed the salient words as I spat them. "Sometimes you have to say 'yes' even when you don't want to you know. She is only trying to show me a good time because she wants me to bring Cluinn in as an account. And no, I didn't enjoy myself," which was sort of true, but I continued with only the slightest stab at my conscience. "I can't drink like them, can't party like them and was actually home by just after eleven, so I doubt you had been alone for long.

He was grinding his jaw, teeth clenched together as I talked, his face pulled into a false resemblance of a smile, even as his eyes were flashing fire. "So, if you could find the energy to say 'yes' to her, why could you not have granted me the same favour? I could have done with your support last night Izzy, you claim to love me and then leave me just when I actually bloody well need your support. You are so fucking selfish!"

"Selfish!" I jumped up from the chair and strode over to the other side of the sofa, eyeballing him to such a degree that he stood up, using the advantage of his height – a pointless gesture as I simply stood on the sofa and poked him in the chest as I shouted at his face. "I have stood by you for the past six months! I have given you a room rent free, furnished it so you can study, cooked you meals, washed your clothes – tiptoed around so that you can get on with you oh so important degree, which you then turn around and throw away to be a rock star. Don't you bloody well call me selfish you emotionally anal git!" My words were vicious – he had hit where it had hurt and I hurled it back at him.

He had frozen when I started my litany, his face falling with every point I drove home, aided by a poke in his chest. By the time I had finished he was outwardly frowning and turned wordlessly on his heel moving away from my pointed finger and sharp tongue and marched into the spare room. He was only gone a minute before returning with a banded pile of fifty pound notes which he thrust into my face.

"Here," he sneered. "Take it, six months rent at five hundred a month – that's about the going rate for a room around here isn't it?" I was taken aback by his gesture; shocked by the amount of cash he was pushing on me.

"I don't want back rent!" My voice faltered and I turned my face away from the notes, pushing it back towards him with a hand. Maybe I had gone slightly too far. This was not an issue about money.

"Then what do you want? I don't think I know Izzy." I clung to the fact that he at least was using my nickname again, not keeping his distance with the formality of Isabella. He eased back and stood there, arms crossed across his chest, the money clutched between his fingers.

I took a deep breath and went for honesty, hating the fact that we were arguing again. "I just want to be with you, as your girlfriend and not made to jump through stupid hoops and not be part of a marketing plan or part of an idea. I don't want to have to pretend I am someone I'm not – I've done that for too much of my life and originally meeting you was a breath of fresh air in that respect. But it seems that I have managed to get myself more involved then ever in the biggest marketing, advertising spin then I have ever seen!" His face was still confused, but no longer as angry as before.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Just look around you Ric, look properly in that room – at the amount of clothes that are in there, you've just been given! Have you listened to the radio recently? Your song is being played every hour. Have you seen the advert for the album at the bus stops, in the streets, on the back of magazines? Cluinn is everywhere and then when I return home yesterday I find that at a moment's notice I am expected to participate in all of this by putting on a party frock and going out with you!" I waved my arms around as if to signify the advertising that seemed to be spread all over London, if not the United Kingdom.

"I apologised for not telling you," he butted in, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"Yes, but then when I got there, your oh so charming manager had a go at me for referring to you, in a private conversation I might add, by your given name. No, from now on I am meant to refer to you as Phantom, or maybe if it is just us, then hey I can call you Tom. That's not your fucking name!" I roared the last sentence, for it was the point that I was most worked up on – the image that had been created for him. "I was told when I could be with you and when I wasn't; when I could smile and hug you and when I was to disappear. I am not a member of Cluinn and I never agreed to be managed by EGA, never signed a contract with them."

"Isabella." The single word was spoken softly, even if his face was passive. "Is that what this is all about? You don't like me as the Phantom?" I nodded tightly, embarrassed by the fact, realising it was stupid when faced with Ric standing there in the broad daylight, no different to his usual appearance with his old jeans and a t-shirt on. "Why?"

"You are intimidating," I spoke the truth softly, sitting back on my heels, my bravado drying up. "You are like a stranger, not someone I know, but someone I would cross the street to avoid." My words were the barest of whispers and I realised that Ric had moved, crouched down by the arm of the couch in order to hear what I had said.

"Iz, it's only a costume, an illusion. Nothing more."

"It is an illusion, but a very cleverly created and thoroughly thought out one. And Devlin expects me to participate in its existence by climbing into my own box, so that he can lift me out of when I am needed, but otherwise keep me out of the way. Alanya isn't treated the same. Is it because she is beautiful?" He shrugged, his mouth downturned as he listened to my woes.

"Possibly. All is fair in love and record sales." His gaze was solemn. "Would you rather I quit Cluinn then?"

"God no!" I flopped onto my stomach, my face inches from his. "I do not wish to break up such talent. You guys are marvellous and have worked so hard to get here. No I don't want that at all! I just want some reality on the situation – reality and understanding that I am an innocent bystander in the craziness and I don't want to be swept up in the detritus that follows bands around."

"Is that why you didn't want to come last night?" His voice was very soft now, soft and gentle and he lifted a hand to stroke my hair. I nodded, not wanting to speak again, scared I might cry. He always had a way of unnerving me. "I'm sorry Iz," his apology was quiet and he pushed himself over the arm, pressing a kiss to my forehead. It reminded me in a flash of last night and the way Ralph had kissed me.

"So am I." My mouth trembled, partly from sorrow and also from relief that we had not fallen into a huge argument and that he seemed to understand my point of view.

"The thing is," he paused and swallowed hard. "Sorry to surprise you again, but the boys are coming over in an hour or so. It's the charts tonight and well, we find out where the single is and at what number the album had entered in at. Indications look – positive!" He flashed a look at my face. "D'you mind?"

I sighed and sat up. "Do I have a choice? No Ric, I don't mind, as long as it is just the guys. They know me; they know what I am like. It's all the bloody hangers on I object to. As long as I can call you Ric and sit next to you and cuddle up to you, that's fine – it's everything else I object to. Remember I am your girlfriend by choice, not by design."

"Deal!" He stood up and sat next to me, pulling me into his side and stealing a kiss from me. "I hate arguing with you Izzy," he added. "But you are magnificent when you're riled!"


It was late by the time we went to bed, very late – mainly due to the fact that we had stayed up partying; celebrating the astounding news that the single had climbed to number five in the charts and the album had entered in at number ten. It was a huge surprise to the band; who had been hoping for a top twenty chart position only and were expecting a top thirty place, but somehow the song had caught the imagination of the great British public and they had reacted by buying and downloading the single.

"And we haven't really done much promotion yet," Ric yawned as we snuggled up in bed together, our limbs entwined under the sheets. It was heaven to be together in a bed again both drifting off to sleep at the same time – it happened so rarely these days.

"I know, Jim kept saying." I raised a languid hand and let it drop onto his body so that he let out a low husky laugh.

"The thing is Izzy," he rolled over onto his side to face me. "What you said earlier, about not wanting to be part of this whole thing. If you choose to stay on the sidelines, I will never see you. We are going to be touring like crazy – Devlin insinuated as much the other day. Obviously there is a public out there who likes our music and so it is worth the pain and expense of going on the road to please them and hopefully get more fans. After the festivals, we are doing a UK tour and that is going to keep us busy from September until Christmas. Unless you are willing to come and stay at the weekends and be with the band, we are not going to be together. "

"I won't have to dye my hair blonde and go around calling you Phantom or Tom or whatever?" I tried to sound light hearted.

"You will have to do whatever Devlin says if he's within earshot darling, but otherwise – no. But you are going to have to get used to me, Phantom, whatever you want to call my stage persona; for that is who goes out and sings. It is still me under the makeup!"

"I know and I will get to use to you, I just..." I shrugged. "I have always felt uncomfortable with fancy dress, clowns that sort of thing. Never had any desire to do amateur dramatics and pretend in that way." I fell silent again, amazed at the amount I had confessed to, glad to get it out in the open. Talking about my discomfort made it easier, let Richard know that I wasn't being deliberately awkward. "You know, I said Tatiana only invited me out last night because she wants me to bring Cluinn in as a PR account. She will ask me tomorrow." He let out a laugh.

"So she took you out and got you rip roaring drunk. Obviously doesn't know your character that well! So what does Taylor Herring have to offer us that other agencies could not?" In the dim light I saw the white of his teeth as he flashed me a smile.

"Experience with the right genre, for we are known as a specialist music and media agency. We have several successful artists that we have worked with in the past such as Dido and Robbie Williams and have a proven track record in successful working with all the major record labels." I spoke with a modulated voice as if I were reciting for an advert. "Would you be interested in joining this team?" I stopped and looked at him, squinting in the gloom. "Well would you, it might be a way of being together more?"

"It would be a way of being with the group more," he added. "But I will speak to Dev and Jim tomorrow – sure I can convince them it is a good idea." He yawned deeply. "Now I had better get some sleep, tomorrow is going to be manic, the start of manic in fact – and I have my exam in two weeks. Goodnight Iz, sleep well." He shifted himself and pressed a kiss to my lips before sinking back onto his pillows and within seconds was asleep.

I could not fall into repose so easily, having had my fill earlier in the day and so lay there, watching the headlights of passing cars spread across the ceiling. Despite Richard's assurances and wishes, I was still very unsure of my role in his life and his future. I had a taste of what the coming months were going to be like and I was very hesitant on the sheer madness of them – from concert to gig, to interview and then on to a festival. How was I going to keep up? In the darkness I looked at his sleeping form and felt a rush of love well up inside me, bringing tears to my eyes. "Please, please," I whispered into the darkness. "Don't leave me by the wayside as you go!"