 
### A Scripted Life

### Published by Tam Sturgeon at Smashwords

Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed within it are

the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or deceased, or any events

mentioned is entirely coincidental.

### Tam Sturgeon asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work.

### Cover imagery courtesy of the author.

### Cover design by Tam Sturgeon.

### Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

~

### A Scripted Life

### Part 1

Out of the Blue

The young, handsome, American had already seen her standing on her own, away from everyone else, disconnected somehow. The older woman seemed a little lost, looking through the window into the beautifully manicured garden beyond. The evening was coming to call. It swept in without warning, its fingers dragging a dark line across the land.

Charlie looked at his friend stood beside him, same age and just as charming.

'Dev, that woman over there, who is she? I saw her with Martine earlier, why does she look so familiar?' he asked, his eyes not leaving the lonesome soul still nursing her empty glass.

'Arh, the English Rose, a Novelist or something, don't know her name ... She's over here working with old what's his face over there ...'

Dev pointed at the very well dressed gentlemen, Clive Duvall, stood talking to a couple of models, some high profile actress, and their hostess, Carmen.

'Doing a film together, he's directing ... I heard she's very good too, helping with the script, so Carla said ... Go over and talk to her, she looks bored out of her clever little skull, take her a drink and introduce yourself ... If nothing else, her accent is kinda cute,' he grinned at Charlie.

'European, ya say?' Charlie questioned.

Dev shook his head, a smile slowly appearing on his face, as he swallowed hard, then coughed, 'No, no, no, not European, English, dude,' he half laughed, 'there's a big difference ... Remember the English Empire, well, that wasn't dictated to by Europe until recently ... They kicked Europe's ass, man, like they nearly kicked ours ... But we kicked back instead right, and we won ... Independence Day, baby.'

As Dev waffled on, Charlie caught a glass of Champagne from a passing tray and smiled at his friend.

'Well, I won't bring up any of that, but, I will say hello, like you said ... I'll catch you later, Dev ... Behave ...'

As Charlie headed towards the figure by the window he had to sidestep two pretty blondes, a Producer, and three of the lovely ladies from the afternoon chat show Live Time USA. He smiled and greeted as he moved, not wanting to miss his chance to speak to the solitary single.

Tilly was still bored, as bored as she had been for the last twenty minutes, so she counted all the large flower pots in the vast garden beyond the glass, there were forty-two. The urge to have a smoke crept in on her, but she'd not seen one of those perfect people sneak off into the garden. Another glass of Champagne had slid into her, but she wasn't counting, she'd told herself she wouldn't, it was meant to be a party.

Stood before that window, looking into that fabulous garden in Beverley Hills, that was very real, that was as real as it got, and it was beyond unbelievable. There was almost a wall between them and her. She felt it, the new kid on the block. They looked and smiled, they nodded as she spoke, but they didn't care about what she was saying or care about her, not really. In Hollywood it was all pretend, that's what they all did, they pretended at stuff.

She was just another face to stay or go, one day there, next day gone. They didn't care about that either. Tilly wasn't stunningly beautiful, she didn't have a look or a style, she wasn't sexy and she wasn't some young starlet. Even though her face was made-up, with her hair in a cascade of dark ringlets, and she wore a flattering long frock, it still didn't mean she knew how to walk in the heels she was stuck in. They hurt, everywhere.

Tilly was tired, her feet where tired, her art of conversation was tired. Was it too early to leave? Could she run out the front door, when no one was looking, and grab a taxi back to her hotel in the city? Would anyone notice if she just slithered into the dark, an inky snake into the grass with freedom beyond? Could she do it? Could she?

'Hi, you look as bored as I am ... May I offer you a drink?' asked the male voice, politely.

Tilly slowly turned to find the handsome, younger, man stood behind her, a drink extended in one hand and a nice smile on his face. Oh, Lord, it was him, in the flesh.

'My name's Charlie, Charlie Kerman ... And it looks like you could do with getting out of here for a few minutes ... Are you a dreaded smoker?' he asked with a lowered voice, his eyes seeming shifty in a funny way.

Tilly could have hugged and kissed him, her face blooming into the first smile she actually meant.

'Wow, Charlie Kerman, yes, you are ... And, sorry, how rude ... I'm Tilly, Tilly Stiller ... Nice to meet you ... And, yes, I am a smoker, and, boy, could I do with one right now ... Please, lead the way, before I jump through this window ...'

So he did lead the way, out through the vast hallway, across into another room just as stunning as the last, where people milled and chatted as they caught up, then through the double doors and into the garden.

Before them stood a long covered walkway with deep couches and comfy cushions, the smoking porch just right for a quick escape. More guests hovered and bantered, the bouts of laughter a nice thing to hear. That end of the house looked out over the huge pool and tennis courts, the garden still as pretty as on the other side of the mansion.

'This is where all the rebels hang out ... We're a dying breed, you and I ... Not many of us left now ... Hey, Jo, yeah, good ... You?'

Charlie talked, walked and greeted as they moved further up the line. Tilly was introduced to more beautiful people, but she still didn't feel part of the crowd. She smiled and followed Charlie, nodding the same as him. She was slowly catching on.

Tilly Stiller spent the rest of her evening talking to Charlie Kerman. For a younger guy he was very well mannered. She liked that he was a little cheeky and he was rather funny too. More drinks were consumed as the night wore on, their banter and chuckles helping Tilly rest into her new role in life. All those famous people, some she knew by name, others she knew by face, they all said hello to her. They actually saw here when she was with Charlie. She liked that too, the way he made her be seen. Yeah, she liked that, she liked that very much.

'Tilly, darling, your car's here ... You did ask that it collect you at midnight ... Your driver is waiting outside,' Carmen smiled as she walked through the doors to their left. She was wearing a gorgeous teal suit, the colour suiting her beautiful cascade of red hair.

Tilly rose from her seat.

'Well, it's been really nice sitting out here, talking ... I'm sorry I have to leave ... Sadly, I have a day of it tomorrow ...'

Charlie stood and extended his hand to shake her's. When their fingers touched a small shock jumped from her hand to his. It made him smile inside.

'Tilly, it was lovely talking to you too, really ... Some of these people can't talk about anything other than hair and make-up, and that includes most of the guys,' he smiled. 'So, you saved me a slow death in Fake Town, honest ... It was my pleasure ...'

Tilly blushed, she felt it, but due to the low lighting she prayed it wasn't seen as she turned to leave. She stopped at the door.

'Charlie, thank you,' she grinned, 'the pleasure was all mine ... See you soon, maybe ... Bye.'

She turned and was gone, her evening over, her warm face cooling as she crossed the hall. It had been a lovely evening, considering how awful it had been at the start. Leaving had been nice too, all the new faces in her life speaking as she passed them saying yeah, see you soon, it all helped.

Having some time with one of her musical heroes had been amazing in a big way, but she had to not think about that, as she climbed into her waiting car to be driven back to her lonely hotel room.

Charlie stood to watch her leave, the sinking feeling making his insides feel cold. He'd never felt that before. He was suddenly standing in a pool of silence, an ache forming where an ache shouldn't form.

'Well, you little love bunny, is she the one?' Dev smiled, joining his abandoned friend.

'Dev, that accent is kinda cute, you're so right there,' Charlie chuckled in reply, finishing his drink as he faced the man beside him. 'She wrote that book, the one all the ladies are going crazy over ... Even my sister read it and said it was amazing, made her laugh and cry, the best love story ever, and you know her, if she likes it, she loves it ... And that book, well, that book is about to become a movie ... And there's something else Tilly said,' he smiled, looking out over the pool area.

'What,' asked Dev, 'did she confess to being a Cougar and offered you a thousand bucks for a night in the sack?' he chuckled.

'No, you dirty hound dog, that is not what she said,' Charlie replied, whilst laughing and looking at his sexually driven pal. 'Actually, she asked me if I'd be interested in writing some of the music for her project, as she called it ... Seems only right I offer her a helping hand, so I said yes ... Might make a change, and the rest of the boys in the band were looking for a reason to take a break ... This might give me something else to think about for a while, huh!'

Stood in that garden, up in Beverley Hills, with that balmy night and the sound of partying in the background, Charlie smiled to himself. He'd made a new friend, and she was very English.

'You're not going to get involved, are you? Not after the last one ... Look how badly that all ended ... You've only just got back on your feet again, dude, I don't want to see you getting hurt again,' Dev said, knowing Charlie probably wasn't listening anyway.

'Come on, Dev, please, I'm a big boy now, it'll be okay ... It's just a project, right?' he grinned.

Dev chuckled, 'Yeah, and, as I recall ... Didn't you also say that last time?'

### ~

The noise in the room was phenomenal, the argument in full swing, the language cringe worthy on more than several occasions. Patsy, one of the Producers, was going into one as Clive, the Director, tried to justify the climbing production costs. When wardrobe was thrown into the mix two more people stood up and it really fuelled the fire.

It was an argument that Tilly didn't really understand, and didn't really want to understand. Making a Blockbuster, as Clive called it, was big business that came with a big bill. There were some huge figures being bandied about, and they had far too many zeros attached, Tilly noticed. She also realised that everyone had completely forgotten her, sat there watching. Once again she grew bored, plus her arse was slowly going numb.

After draining the dregs of her lukewarm coffee, Tilly made an exit from the room. No one noticed as the door opened and closed, they were far too busy doing business, and quite loudly as it happens. She walked down the air-conditioned corridor, with its stark white walls that reminded her of a Dentist's in England, and through the door she pushed, out into the lovely sunshine.

Dropping her sunglasses down from the top of her head, she walked as she rolled herself a quick smoke. Around the corner of the huge hanger she ambled, into the parking area that was quiet at that time of the afternoon. The heat of the day had finally settled a little, the hot streets cooling as the evening stumbled towards her.

There was a space reserved for her, her name attached to the post that stood on the path. That made her chuckle. She had a space but no car. A driver took her everywhere she needed to go, so there was no need for her to have a car. She walked over and stood in her empty spot. Looking around, to see if anyone was about, she dropped down, to lay lengthways, her back to the floor, the sun on her face.

Her smoke was slowly consumed as a hundred thoughts idled through a mind that never switched off. There would be an idea develop and a chain jumped in a matter of minutes, then she'd try to run back to her very first thought she had, seeing if she could find it amongst the others that jumbled around in there.

'Of all the parking lots, in all the world, you had to lay down in mine,' came the Bogart impersonation from the path above and behind her, and it was rather good.

Rolling over, she looked up at the face she was hoping she might see again soon. She smiled her best smile, knowing it was just to say hello. When she spoke she tried to keep it light, as if it were a regular thing she did in her parking space.

'Oh, hi, Charlie, nice to see you again, how's it going?' As she stood, to pat herself down, she kept talking, her smile still there. 'Mmm, and I like your film reference too ... Very Casablanca ...'

Charlie watched the English woman stand and sort herself out. He liked the way she fitted into her clothes. His arms crossed as he watched and waited for her to look at him. It was when the light caught in her eyes, it made them sparkle like stars, the flash there then gone.

'Hi, Till, I'm good, nice to see you again too ... I'm here to see Clive, is he about? He asked me to drop by about the score for the movie, rang this morning, first thing ... I said if I had time I'd show my face, and here it is,' he smiled, as she walked over to join him.

Her's held a funny little look when she said, 'Yeah, he's about, but I wouldn't go in there right now ... My advice, leave it another five minutes and then open the door ... If you can't hear them shouting you should be safe.'

'Arh, that bad, huh,' Charlie replied as they turned towards the back entrance. 'If a Producer kicked off it'll be to do with money ... But they'll get over it, and find more money along the way, somehow they always do ... The bigger the budget the better the Blockbuster, that's how Clive thinks, and he's probably right, to a certain extent ...'

Tilly listened and smiled, she walked and talked. Somehow she found it easy to be around Charlie, but then he made it easy, because he was really nice like that. Their conversation carried them through several topics, one being Tilly's most recent L.A. accommodation.

'So, anyway, I've been waiting for weeks to get another rented house. After the ceiling came down in the master bedroom of the last one, I didn't want to go back there ... But then, I don't know what's worse ... A big, lonely, rented house or a big, lonely, rented room ... They amount to the same in my books ... I'd do the local Hostel but after the interview with those ladies last month, more and more people are recognising me ... That seemed to happen overnight, I think it's why they keep me tucked away ... But I hate it, it's so depressing, and I never see anything because there's no one to show it to me ... How sad it that?' she lamented, her smile still there, if only for her companies sake.

Well, Charlie's brain was whirring and his old grey matter was kicking up a right storm in that big, handsome, head of his. He listened, and sympathised, he knew that feeling, weeks on the road, the crappy motels, their old knackered truck, four smelly band members and a hundred miles to go, just for one gig.

By the time they reached the door, and passed into the quiet hallway, Charlie liked Tilly even more. He found her funny, in a sad way, but her smile was always there to greet him, and he like that too.

'Hey, a few of us are going to a club this Friday night, it's a good one, we have a VIP area so you don't get hassled by any assholes ... If you want to tag along, drop a text to your driver, Silvio, get him to bring you to Cage E, it's in the city, he'll know whereabouts, they all do. Dress is casual clubbing and I'll be there from about 9 p.m. onwards ... I'll get your name on the list... At least it'll get you out meeting new people, right?' he sweetly smiled, actually meaning the words he said.

'Mmm, yeah,' Tilly smiled, 'I'll see how alive I am on Friday night, it depends what time we finish here of course ... Clive keeps piling the work on and I've never done anything like this before, not scripts, I'm just a novelist ... I try to tell him but he doesn't hear me, he keeps banging on about a hidden talent or something ... I can't work him out ...'

Down the passageway they headed, the meeting room mere steps away. They both stopped and looked at each other. Pulling funny faces they glanced into the room beside them. It was empty. There was no Clive, there was no Patsy, and there was no group of production staff sat hammering things out. They had all left, day done.

Charlie turned to Tilly and laughed, his hands coming up to push into the front pockets of his black jeans.

'So, that big, lonely, rented room you said you have ... Does it have a big bar to go with it?'

Tilly looked up at the young man, her eyes studying the face she adored for a few seconds before answering. Regardless of how she really felt about him, she didn't quite know how to take it at first, being an older woman, she knew certain things, it was another useless talent. Charlie had always been a Playboy party-animal, ever more so since his public breakup. There was a massive possibility she meant nothing to the Rock Star stood before her. Really, in the grand scheme of things, she didn't stand a chance anyway, and she was well aware of that fact too.

'As it happens, they restocked me this morning ... The sun's over the yard-arm, so ... G and Ts, on the terrace, back at mine then,' she smiled in return.

'The sun's over the what?' he questioned as they made for the exit.

Tilly chuckled when the sunshine hit her face once more, heading towards his black cruise mobile.

'Never mind,' she smiled, 'it doesn't matter ... It's just another way to say it's time for a drink in old English ...'

When they ambled into her hotel lobby, still chatting and laughing, there was a crush of people waiting in the front foyer. Charlie, being the Rock Star, thought they were there in hope of seeing a famous face such as his. Sadly he was hugely mistaken. As they neared the doors, the group of ladies turned and almost rushed at Tilly, their books and pens already deployed for use.

It scared the hell out of the poor woman, so she ducked behind Charlie and used him as a shield to reach the Reception. He was very good as he calmed them all down and got them into some sort of order.

'Ladies ... Ladies ... One at a time ... Please ...'

So, one at a time the ladies wishes were granted, as Tilly scrawled her signature across one cover after another. As the last was completed they reached the Receptionist, and tried to carry on as if it had never happened, but it did happen, and that was when Charlie had his bright idea.

Now, for Charlie to have one of those, and for it not to about music, well, it's a seldom seen event. He also thought it was rather bright one, and, seeing as he didn't have them that often, he thought he'd best act on it. He came up with a plan, after spending a great afternoon with Little Miss English, drinking her mini-bar dry, before they moved to the bar in the lobby, where they spent the rest of the evening, and some of the night, talking and laughing as if old friends. Tilly was a nice lady, she put him at ease, and she was very bright, brighter than most women he'd known, and far brighter than his bright idea.

They walked the garden in the evening, chatting about life and things they wanted to achieve. Charlie said he'd always wanted to write a novel, but had never found the words or time. It made Tilly laugh, a novelist is a lyricist without a tune, they both tell a story, whatever length they are.

When he then asked her, her reply was to be able to paint in the style of the Old Masters. To describe a landscape in oil and to have it flow from her brush, as if words from her pen, was but another dream to have come true.

There was one main connection that tied Charlie straight to Tilly. It was Clive Duvall, the Director, who just happened to be an old friend of Charlie's. So, one quiet evening, Charlie dropped Clive a call, not only to catch up over the music stuff, but to also mention the incident in the hotel lobby.

'Oh, shit,' Clive mumbled down the line, 'they found her, have they? ... That didn't take them long, knew they would, even told Patsy it was coming ... It was either them or the damn Press ... Guess we got off lightly ... Trouble is, I'll have to move her again, and I'm running out of places to stash her ... She ain't coming here ... Cath would blow a bulb with her in the house being all English and wanting breakfast tea instead of coffee,' he moaned, half to himself, half to the dog by his slippered feet. He was sat in his office at home, with the TV on mute in the background.

Charlie butted in with, 'Clive ... She doesn't drink tea, only decaff coffee and water ... Plus beer and spirits ... But she hates tea, always has ...'

He was hoping all he'd done so far was enough. Charlie sowed the seeds for his plan in the proper spot, and prayed Clive would catch on like a house on fire. Then, the sentence he was waiting on was dropped into his awaiting ear as if a drop of water into a parched throat.

'Well, kid, if you love her so God damn much she can stay with you ... I'll ring her and let her know the deal, she'll have to like it or lump it, and, as you two are working together, it should make your lives easier too,' came rolling out of Clive, as if a welcome mat, right on cue.

Charlie laughed a silent laugh as he punched his fist into the air above him. He sort of grunted as he did it, the shout of joy nearly exploding from him.

'Charlie! ... Are you okay, kid? ... Charlie!' Clive's voice anxiously asked.

'Yeah, I'm good, Clive, just having a stretch, it's been a long day ... I'm fine, really,' he smiled in reply, his friend not knowing the full truth of it all.

'So, I'll leave Tilly to you ... My contract only caters for the music,' Charlie then smiled.

'Yeah,' Clive sighed, 'I'll ring her in the morning, give her the lowdown before she goes over to the studio, I should catch her before Silvio picks her up ... Maybe I should rent that place on the beach for her, Tom gave me a good price for a few months ... If you find you can't stand it, let me know, I'll move her down there, out of your hair ...'

Charlie chuckled, 'Clive, it'll be fine, we'll be fine ... Don't stress, just explain it and she'll understand ... I know she will, the look on her face when they rushed us, Clive ... Man, that was enough to make me wanna run ...'

'Yeah,' replied Clive, feeding a biscuit to the dog, 'I can see how a horde of crazy women would make you wanna run for it ... It happens to you all the time, so it must be a real kick in the nuts,' he chuckled, taking another biscuit from the drawer.

'Clive, if they're this crazy about the book, imagine how the movie will do ... Sometimes women are a blessing, and sometimes they are the devil himself ... What hit us was a herd of she-devils, they would have eaten me, and you, alive, my friend ... I like the ladies, not wrestling wildebeest,' Charlie smiled, his day nearly done, and his plan almost complete.

'Well, you'll be babysitting one soon enough, kid, hope you can cope with her strange European ways, that's all I'm saying ... And good luck, cuz I think you might be needing it,' Clive laughed, as another crunchy treat vanished into the ball of fur, sat by his ankles.

'Thanks, and she's English, not European, there's a difference,' Charlie, chuckled back, 'and don't over feed that dog, Clive ... You know Cath will only bawl at you in the morning after it's dumped all over your, overly expensive, real wood floor.'

There was a pause and then a soft chuckle in return. Clive knew what Charlie was saying, but he wasn't listening, not really.

'Yeah, stop me,' Clive laughed, 'and don't break the hired hand, she ain't finished those rewrites yet, ya cheeky little ...'

'Yeah, night, Clive ... Catch up soon, buddy,' Charlie grinned.

'Yeah, we'll catch up soon ... And behave yourself ... If I lose her we're all screwed, okay, Charlie,' he said, sounding serious once more, the treat drawer slowly closing.

'Okay, okay, I get it, no breaking the English Rose, I promise ... Anyway, she ain't my type, where's the nice rack and the blonde locks? ... She's a brunette, dude, and that just ain't my flavour,' Charlie bounced back.

'Good, keep it that way ... If anything changes in that department she is out of there ... Got it!'

Clive slapped it on him, making Charlie realise the man was a Director before being a friend.

'Got ya ... No fucking up, keep my hands to myself, and don't touch the merchandise ... Anything else, Boss?' Charlie sarcastically grinned to the mobile in his hand.

'Yeah, no getting her hitched on drugs or drink ... I know you Charlie Kerman, and I know why the band is called KerKaine ... Please don't do it, keep her clean and capable, I need her for this movie, and I need her to keep on top of it ... Be her friend, Charlie, not a fuck-up ...'

After their call had ended, Charlie sat in silence and ran the promise to not tamper through his head. She wasn't his type, but he liked her. She wasn't a blonde, but had nice dark hair. She wasn't built, she wasn't a beauty, and she was nothing special at all, so why did he like her so much? It was because she was the only real thing left in L.A. What you saw was what you got, the girl next door, easy to be around, no vanity, no pretentious behaviour, no demands and no distasteful looks. Tilly was just Tilly.

### ~

Her moving in party guests consisted of the guys from KerKaine, their latest squeezes, a bunch of other random musicians, along with a stream of stunning models, who, in turn, appeared with a host of other people Tilly either knew well or not at all. It was nice that Charlie had gone to all that trouble, she wasn't expecting that, but it was nice anyway, and a great way to meet new people, as Charlie had quite rightly said.

Jade, the model, smiled as she asked Tilly, 'Have you managed to see much of L.A. yet ... Charlie said you experienced your first crush the other day ... Frightening, isn't it?' the pretty girl said.

'Oh, my, God, yes,' Tilly replied, 'I really wasn't expecting anything like that ... And no, I've not been able to see anything because of it ... I hate the thought of going everywhere with Security on my heels, but it might be my only choice, unless I go when everyone's in bed,' she replied to her little group of listeners.

'Darling,' smiled a newcomer, 'L.A. never sleeps ... You'll be waiting forever for that one to happen ... Do a quick tour in a limo, that's what we did, you see it all but don't have to stop ... Take your photos out of the windows or standing through the roof, it's easy, job done ...'

Charlie and her crossed paths on numerous occasions and usually in the bar area. The banter would pick up on a new subject and the conversation would start afresh. Tilly liked being dragged into a group to chat about something in the news or on the TV, it made her feel included, part of the crowd. Being asked her opinion was the best, any subject, any time, to hear other's too and to carry it on into a bout of laughter, tears in eyes included.

'No ... I'm a writer, I'm notorious for being a hermit and overly sarcastic because my art of conversation died in my last book,' Tilly chuckled at the group around her.

The titter followed a tide, coming to rest on Charlie's face, his smile always a lovely thing to see.

'And I'm a musician,' he grinned over at her, 'notorious for kick-ass parties and having the time of my life whilst I play the songs I love ... One day, Tilly, I'll write a song about you ...'

'Will you, now, Mister Kerman?' she smiled in return, '... And I can't wait to hear that ... Will it be a heavy rock tune, or will it be a ballsy ballad?'

Suddenly no one else was there. It was just them stood there, all on their own. The group around them receded into a mist on the edges of their vision. All sound died away, only their two voices were heard.

'I think it would be a ballad, actually ... Like nothing I've never written before ... Something unique, like you,' he grinned.

Tilly blushed. 'Charlie, don't ... You're too kind, I'm no one special ... I just write books like you write music ... If anything, that makes you just as unique as me ... Am I right?' she questioned with a beautiful smile hanging on her lips.

'Well, okay, yeah, it does ... So that just shows we're on the same page then ... And this movie music will be as unique as us ... A project only we could achieve ... Something we created, together.'

'What ... Like ... A child?' Tilly chuckled.

'Yes, Tilly, laugh you may ... But just like a child,' Charlie grinned in reply.

He nearly floored her from where he stood. Charlie's face and radiating smile lit up the whole space between them, and he was all she saw. At first it was scary, then after a second or so she was almost floating, feet off the ground, and it looked like Charlie was too.

There was a soft cough next to Tilly. It broke the spell she was under. It was Jade come to say goodnight. Tilly walked her to the door, a friend in the making, and hugged her as her car appeared to collect her. They parted promising to catch a coffee at some point before Jade left for Tokyo. They never did.

All the bathrooms were in use and Tilly really needed to pee. She had considered trying out by the pool but all the guys were out there doing the same thing. Turning towards her bedroom, her en suite seemed to be the only answer to the problem. She walked into her room only to see the door closed and hear hysterical laugher coming from within.

Crossing her arms, whilst tapping her left foot, was not making the wee go away, so she had to, she just had to knock.

'Excuse me, guys, but I need that bathroom, like now ... Can you please vacate and shag someplace else? ... Thank you ...'

Tilly didn't shout, she sort of loudly said it against the hinges, hoping she got her message through the gap. That's when it was ripped open and a face she recognised appeared before her.

'Is Chazzer there?' the voice asked.

'No,' Tilly replied in one sharp word.

'Good ...'

A hand whipped out to grab her sleeve, yanking her into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind her.

'We came up here cuz we know if he gets a whiff we'll be dead before you can say safe sex ... Here, ya want a line ... It's good shit ... I'll cut you half of one, seeing as it's probably your first time ...'

As Dev stood chopping a line, Tilly took her pee, whilst the others in the room left quickly. He didn't care, neither did she by then. They were friends, drunken friends, and if he wanted to do caine off her porcelain he had to put up with her peeing.

'Dev, if Chazzer finds that he'll slap you ... Hard ... He hates that stuff, he told me,' Tilly fluffed, trying to keep her voice down.

'Yeah, well,' Dev spat, 'there's a lot about our Chaz-man you don't know, chick ... His habit was out of control ... Man, it nearly killed him at one stage ... Why the hell do ya think the band is called KerKaine? Did you think he worshipped Nirvana or something? Honey, the man was a beast with the white stuff, had to have his nose rebuilt after it collapsed on him ... He's been in rehab eight times ... All clean now though, but he'd go back in a second if he could,' Dev grinned, taking the line on the surface before him. 'Want some? Ya don't know ya like it till ya try it, Till ... Till ya try it, yeah, funny,' he chuckled, mainly as his own stupid joke.

'It's a party night,' was her grinned reply. 'Why the hell not ...?'

She watched as Dev lined her up a short snort. It was a curious process, chopped, re-chopped, lined up, and then chopped again.

The tap up the nose was a mere burst of nothing, then it tickled, then she coughed, then it was fine. What was everyone going on about? It wasn't until she went back and started drinking again did she find out what the caine was really all about.

After her second vodka and cola she felt the tingle in her bum start. It ran a line up her spine and set a funny little smile on her face. She walked with it, out into the garden, just to see who was lingering there.

The first person that turned her way smiled and passed it to her.

'There ya go, Till,' said, Pins, handing over a packed joint. 'Take it ... That shit should wake you up some ... It's very good, just arrived this morning ... If you want some, give me a ring, I'll bring you some over ...'

So she took it, walked off around the garden, smiling and chatting, smoking the joint that had been offered up by the nice man stood by the garden doors.

Charlie was almost at the point of shagging Melinda Sempra when an almighty crash brought his face up from down below. The timing couldn't have been worse, and it certainly took the blood from the most important part of his body, and not his head, well, it is, sort of.

A huge happy cry was raised as another loud crash followed the first. What the hell was going on out there?

Charlie looked up at Mel as she craned down to see him almost at the end of the bed, moving away to grab his discarded jeans. He pulled them on, his trainers to follow.

'You stay right there ... I'll be back when I've kicked some asses and punched a few lights out ... Trash my pad, the fuckers, hope they got some personal insurance ... They're gonna need it ...'

Mel, in her nakedness, watched as Charlie stormed from the room and out to the rowdy crowd. She knew he wouldn't be back, someone else would catch his eye and he'd be gone on another pussy prowl. There was always room for more where Charlie was concerned.

'Great titties in hell and all the saints kill me now,' were the only words to fall from Charlie's lips, as his hand lifted to slap his forehead in horror. It ran down his face to cover his mouth, just in case something nasty rolled out and started some really big trouble.

The place was trashed in true English style. Loo roll hung from every painting, door and shelf. The 52 inch TV had been ripped off the wall, then thrown through the large plate-glass window, and was a travesty on the patio. Broken vases, plates and other trinket debris scattered the floor, and his platinum disk had a big red lipstick face drawn on it.

The room was almost empty, except for Tilly, in her underwear, spinning like a top to the music, arms stretched out, laughing loudly, and Dev, smashed out of his face, slouched watching her, with a loo roll sat on his head and a scarf of it around his neck.

'... RIGHT ... THAT'S IT ...'

Charlie erupted in the low lit space, for only a soft glow could be seen through so much draping paper.

'... What the hell? ... I'm gonna ... I wanna ... This is ... Where are...? And how that hell did they get up there?'

Charlie was stood looking at the frilly panties on the head of his moose, hanging from the wall. The more he looked, the more he saw.

Melinda walked from the bedroom, dressed and ready to leave. It was as though she didn't see the devastation before her, or the mess, or the two nutters still doing their thing, smoking their joints and drinking their drinks. Kissing Charlie on passing, she stepped over the abandoned clothes and broken glass.

'Catch ya soon, Charlie ... It was a hoot, let's do it again sometime,' was said over her shoulder, along with her waved hand as she let herself out.

Her Lamborghini Gallardo, that was sat awaiting her attention, was a sweet journey home at 4:30 in the morning. Climbing in, it purred into life and, as the side window slid down, her face appeared, her shades pulled down against the low early morning sunlight.

'And good luck with that,' she nodded, meaning what was behind him, as he followed her to the door. 'That one's all yours, honey ... And your Marigolds are under the sink ...'

As he went to speak, she kissed her fingers and threw them into the warm air beside her. His mouth opened and closed, but there was little time to start a sentence, let alone actually construct one. There was a loud roar and she was gone, through the gates, onto the main road, heading for Malibu before he even had a chance to turn and slam his front door shut.

Charlie stood, looking down as his old friend trashed on the couch, shirt missing, his forehead holding the slogan cool in red lipstick, to match the shade on the walls, and other places around the room, the Jackson print included.

He then looked over at Tilly, singing at the top of her voice, totally beyond this planet, up there with all the stars and a thinner atmosphere. She turned to him as he drew closer, singing his own lyrics at him. He noticed her vest top was on the ceramic greyhound by the hearth, whilst her jeans daggled from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. They were going around and around slowly, the legs almost dancing without her in them.

'... Oh, well, love's this game you're playing ... Standing dead still while your world keeps changing ... You won't get any nearer, so you really couldn't say it any clearer ... That dream, you killed, leaves a gaping space that I once filled ...'

Her eyes came up to meet his and Charlie knew. From the size of those pupils, he just knew.

'It's the place you'd rather be ... Is it cold there without me?' she continued, her face completely different to the one that had spun round to stand before him, his world igniting in the smile she held aloft.

Anger grew, but he silenced it, his ears ringing because he knew where it had come from. Dev had done it again, as Charlie somehow knew he would. Why did he always do that? Did he think it was funny, was it a joke with the coke? Couldn't Dev just not do it, for one time, and why with that woman?

Then he saw it, he saw it in the way Dev was watching her, propped up slightly, he saw it in the way Dev protected Tilly when rushing to a waiting car, and why Dev made out he didn't really like her that much. One of Dev's comments suddenly slipped into mind, 'You only ever look for a sexy cover, Charlie, and never wanna read the true story within.'

Charlie was seeing the true story unravel before his very eyes, as Tilly smiled and kept on singing.

She turned away, loving the beat pumping from the speakers, her near naked form not caring about its lack of coverings, in her head she was probably at a beach- party anyway.

Jeez, she could dance, and was really good at it too, the moves, the poses. She was so fluid, so sure of herself. She could tempt and taunt, as she was, drawing Charlie into the sound, the song.

'We're watching it fall but we don't seem to care at all ... Now it's right in your face, the disgrace ... So you're out there alone, they said you're out there alone ...'

She wasn't that shy woman anymore. She had built herself up in a nice way, staying grounded, keeping it together. Even off her face she was together. Tilly wasn't spaced out on the floor, whining and crying about being as high as a kite, no, she'd embraced it, was even having fun on it, and she was feeling everything.

The more Charlie watched, the more he wanted her, but he knew he couldn't and wouldn't. He'd made a promise, which he was trying to keep, but the drugs part had already been broken by Dev. A part of him wanted to drag her into his room and throw her onto his bed, as she was, to do all the things his Momma didn't want him to do to a lady. He smiled, still watching, his arms crossed, with a fresh bottle of beer in his hand.

'I thought I could wait but now I fear it's way too late ... Then your voice, down the line, one last time ... Says you're out there alone, but you're never alone,' she sang, twisting away from him, smiling as she did.

Her voice wasn't bad either, she could hold a note.

It was as Charlie stepped towards her he saw Dev make a move. His friend's eyes had popped open, upon her singing, and were watching Tilly with a dirty look in them. Charlie knew what was brewing behind that frozen gaze of Dev's, and he didn't want Tilly being dragged into any more bad news than she'd already snorted. He could see she was coked up to the eyeballs, and it only ever came from one place, Dev.

As Dev lifted from the couch, Charlie stepped before him with a raised palm to Dev's chest. One light push put the drunkard back down into his seat. His friend landed heavy and was about to protest. Charlie stared down in a way Dev wouldn't dare open his stupidly stoned mouth. Dev decided to stay where he was and smile up as his tall, well-built friend.

He also smiled on the inside to himself. It was exactly what he wanted to happen. He was just waiting to play his part. Knowing he'd get them together eventually, it seemed fated, that's why she'd ended up at Charlie's gaff in the first place. It was meant to be. The Lord moved in mysterious ways sometimes, and who was Dev to question that. He saw his tinkering as a way to get the ball rolling, which it certainly had, so with his job done he decided to make a move home.

Silence in the house, the lights low, soft talking in the background, everyone gone. Two shadows sat, propped against a couch on the floor, the sun becoming a watery filter through the glass walls.

Charlie was trying to sober Tilly up, but it's not a sudden process when the caine is involved, it takes time, and lots of orange juice. Sadly, unbeknown to Charlie, whenever Tilly filled her glass with juice, a huge dash of vodka was to join it, so as one high exited her system another one took its place.

Soon enough, he saw her need for sleep crawling slowly into her features. They had talked themselves roar throated, and he had learnt a lot about the English Rose. Whenever anyone starts the comedown process they travel through all their emotions in the slide back to earth. Tilly was no exception.

There are stages you have to work through, some better than others. The laughter stage is the funniest, for everyone. Then there are the quick one word comebacks that can have you giggling with tears down your face. Then they, in turn, are replaced with tears of sadness, and so another layer is explored. Up and down, up and down, that's how it went, one minute guffawing like an old maid, the next, almost ripping her hair out from the sadness of it all.

Charlie kept up the best he could, whilst trying to clear up the mess around them. As Tilly poured out her life story, lost loves included, Charlie wiped surfaces and bagged up broken junk and yards of loo roll. The twisted TV and missing window would have to wait. He tried to remember hearing the weather forecast. Were they expecting rain?

Finally, when all her words had been said, and all her tears had been shed, she looked up at Charlie and asked him for assistance.

'Charlie, darling ... Help me ... Please ... My legs don't work,' she chuckled from the floor.

He returned to scoop her up and, yes, she was beyond help.

'... Thank you for my party, it was so lovely, and I had such a lovely time with all those lovely people ... I like your friends, Charlie, they're funny, and they drink a lot ... Did you see how much they drank tonight? ... That was like an ocean of beer, no, a whole world of beer ... And they love music, oh, yeah, they all love music ... Especially your music ... They love your music more than any other music in the whole, wide world ... That's so lovely ...'

Charlie carried Tilly down to her room. She talked the whole way, didn't take a breath. He gently dropped her onto her bedspread, pulling it up and over, making sure she would be warm enough when she finally drifted off and touched down again.

'... But I don't care what they say, I know ya wouldn't treat a girl like that ... Not if ya really, truly, loved her ya wouldn't ... I don't know you at all really, but it's like I've known ya forever ... I find that strange ... Do you find that strange, Chazzy?' Tilly smiled as she lay back onto her pillows.

'Yeah ... I find that strange too, Tills,' he smiled in reply.

'... Hey, come here,' she whispered, 'I know a secret.'

An index finger curled slowly to draw him in. He did as was beckoned. Man, she was so wasted.

Sitting up again, her arms lifted as he landed beside her. They came to rest around his neck, with her still smiling, before she whispered her words in his ear.

'Charlie, you big silly, I do love you ... I hope we're buddies forever ...'

Pulling away she looked at him, her eyes nearly shut.

'... Now, I have to sleep ... Night ...'

With that, she fell away, side-down and curled up, ready to dream her day away.

'You can join me, if you like,' she softly mumbled, a hand patting the space on the mattress behind her. 'Just to cosy up and crash ... Nothing meant by it ... I'm not your type, anyway?' she quietly giggled to herself.

The woman had trashed his house and just confessed her love for him. What could he do?

He swung round behind her and lifted his feet from the floor, coming to rest, spoon-style, alongside the petite frame, her soft scent inhaled into him. She smelt warm and of fading perfume. He smiled as he closed his eyes. He was finally sleeping with the only woman he wanted beside him, cocooned in a patterned throw and half naked, but that didn't matter, he was happy.

As he floated away into a sweet dream of music and dark haired beauties, his hand slid around Tilly's waist. She didn't turn it away. She gently held it to her, with a smile on her face as big as his.

### ~

'Hey, look, I gotta go do this thing whether I want to or not ... It's in my damn contract that I show my face now and then ... You sure you don't want to join us, it looks like you could do with a night out.'

Tilly looked over at Charlie, her features as weary as they were the day before.

'That's really nice of you, but I really have to get these rewrites done for tomorrow ... There's like a hundred of them so I better get started ... At this rate I'll still be typing as the sun comes up,' she half smiled.

'Okay, if you're sure,' he grinned in return. 'Hey, you know where everything is, help yourself to the bar, beers are in the cooler, shots are on the back shelf ... If ya get hungry the fridge is packed, Miguel stocked us up yesterday, so if you get the munchies, dig in, the fruit's on the side in the big dish.'

Charlie spoke as he pulled his leather jacket on. Tilly watched him in the soft glow of the hallway light. Everything about him she loved, but she wasn't his type, she wasn't a busty blonde.

'Thanks,' she replied, 'if I get the time I'll do something later, otherwise it's Cheerios straight from the box again ... I'm getting used to them and quite like them as a dry snack.'

Charlie turned towards her and smiled, 'You English are a strange breed, dry cereals and banana sandwiches ... Lord, your insides must be a mess, do you live like this in England?' he asked as he reached the door.

Tilly turned to him to make her reply. 'Nah, not like this ... In England I don't live at all .... I'm a writer, we're known to be solitary creatures that are usually nocturnal ... I don't get out much because of it ... Not that I mind, I don't ... Writing is my life, like music is yours ... That's why I wanted you in on this ... Your sound is exactly what the film needs, and so far you're proving me right ... Keep up the good work,' she grinned in the sweetest way she could.

He laughed, 'Ha,' stood in the opening, about to make his way to the waiting stretched limo, 'I know what you mean about the solitary life thing, but I still get out there and live it ... Maybe you need to do that too sometimes, Tilly ... Life's for the taking, grab it, before it's all taken up with words and shit ...'

He went to say something else but a girl shouted his name from the waiting car.

'Look, I gotta go, the guys are waiting ... Maybe I'll see you later, if you're not comatose after an evening of bashing a keyboard to death,' he chuckled. 'See ya later, Till ... And enjoy your dry snacks and fruit ... Don't forget the beers ...'

Charlie's voice died away as he walked off towards the waiting car, leaving the door wide open.

Tilly walked over to push it shut and shout her farewell. 'Yeah, thanks ... I will,' she called, as Charlie was greeted by a beautifully tall blonde with a rack that would put most women to shame.

Tilly closed the door, the sight of the stunning blonde enough to make her want that beer sooner rather than later.

There was a time when Tilly felt nothing. Her parent's divorce, when she was nine years old, had started the process and from there it had escalated into a lifetime achievement. Boys were never interested in her. She was nerdy, wore glasses, was on the plump side, and had mad hair all over the place. She hadn't been the same as the other little girls, no, she'd always been different. She'd always been a rebel.

A lonely child, but never spoilt, her first job was found at thirteen, working in a roadside burger van. Tilly was offered it when she lied about her age, and it made her some money for a while, but she soon got bored and moved on. When she left school she found she did one thing okay, putting words together into sentences that were poetic. Before she knew it she was helping write lyrics, the likes of which would never hit the charts, but she was out there doing it and that's all that really mattered at the time.

When the Dad that had brought her up suddenly died, her world stopped turning. She found him sat in his car on the drive. Tilly was leaving for work. He'd been there all night, dead, and she hadn't even felt that. It was the first thing she wrote about that really meant anything. The not feeling him suffer when she was mere feet away, that amazed her as much as his passing. Tilly found she was lost again.

Living with her Mother was the biggest nightmare, though it was kind of them to let her move into the converted shed at the bottom of the garden. At least she had her own space, and that was cool. The Step-Father, Will, was a tolerable sort of chap, he never got in the way and would take Tilly's side if he felt the need, and she liked him for that. Things could have been worse. At least she had a small income, friends around her and her writing. What more could she want?

Well, there were a million answers to that question, but it's finding the right one that works. Tilly found it, and it was passing her manuscript to a friend to read. The first Novella to be typed by her fair fingers was to be the opening act to a most profitable career. In a matter of months her efforts had gained numerous five star reviews, and once it went global its path was forged. Within three years the booked had been snatched up, published, had hit Number One on most Reading Lists, and was in the throes of becoming a motion picture. That's why Tilly was in L.A., she was helping write the script.

A hollow silence graced the large empty space. Charlie sure did fill it with his presence. The remote control for the stereo was located and the play button was pushed. From the numerous speakers pumped the track she loved the most, Charlie's rock balled, Going Nowhere Quickly. A beer was retrieved from the stacked cooler and popped open. An amble was taken around the vast room, the artwork studied, the bookends partly read. One wall was a huge collection of catalogued records, the vinyl stood along sturdy shelves, each section containing an album thought long gone with time.

The track ended as she moved to the large black and white photo hung above the fireplace. It was an art shot of Charlie, a close up and very good. Tilly lingered there, studying his features, looking up at the guy with the lovely smile. She laughed to herself, as she blushed at her own thinking, and then returned to the room where the dreaded rewrites awaited her.

Almost finished, as she took off her glasses and rubbed as the sides of her nose. It had been a very long night, and the real filming hadn't even started yet. With that in mind she looked down at the specs in her hands, her time not yet over. Her left hand automatically moved to take the grapes to one side. By the little light, attached to her laptop, there was enough of a low glow to see her fruit.

The car was heard before the party of two crashed in through the front door. They were beyond drunk and their laughter carried them off into the room with the bar. Tilly could hear the commotion of the happy revolvers when cries for more drinks were raised in slurred voices. They reappeared to sit in the den, crash-landing onto a couch, their drinks held aloft. The girl was all over Charlie and he loved it. Music was put on, the volume kept down enough to not annoy the temporary housemate.

Tilly watched them over her laptop lid, they were smoking a joint by the looks and smell of it, the glass walls not much of a barrier between them and her. Her fingers jumped over the keys as she attempted to complete her task at hand, she was nearly there. There were only a few more lines and she was done, only a few more.

The blonde's movements made Tilly look up again. She was stood, dancing slowly, her sway in perfect time to the song. Charlie was sat with his joint, watching and grinning, enjoying his own personal show. His beer lifted to be consumed, the nodding continuing, and the beat lifting them both higher.

Tilly looked away as the blonde started to strip. Charlie whistled and laughed as her dress was slowly unbuttoned and discarded across the room.

The Script was so close to completion, Tilly couldn't falter and get it wrong. It was nearly done, so nearly. Was that the girl's bra? Oh, God, it was.

Tilly didn't know what to do, she couldn't move and she didn't want to draw attention to herself just in case they wanted her to join in or something. She considered dropping onto the floor slowly so she could crawl away, maybe towards her bed. When she looked again the blonde had disappeared. Stretching her neck slightly, Charlie came into sight, and then she saw the girl, kneeling. Tilly didn't need to make a guess, she knew what was going down, and it was mainly the blonde.

The moments drained on as the visions flicked through her mind. The lines, they were suddenly there as if etched across the inside of her skull. They bowled from her fingers, her digits a blur as the remainder of her night's project was completed in a matter of fleeting minutes.

Tilly sat back in her seat, exhausted from the effort but smiling at the achievement. Her hands lifted to rest against the back of her head. That's when he saw her, in that second that she moved, that's when he saw the pale face glowing above the laptop lid.

His head slowly swung round as she froze in her elbow raised position. He smiled a smile to match her's, as his hands lifted to rest in exactly the same place, his pissed smugness something Tilly had never witnessed before. His look didn't change the entire time their gaze stayed locked together. Blondie didn't move either, so he seemed a very hard man to please, sat there with that evil grin plastered across his lips.

Tilly broke the moment by dropping her arms again, she had to. There was a second where she almost saw her face looking up at him, from down there on her knees, tits out, drool down her ordinary face. Her eyes closed but it made the images worse. There was a sudden ache just below her ribs. It ran a path from the inside out, the sensation making her drag in a long breath. When she opened them again the view had changed.

Charlie and his latest conquest were up and gyrating around by the leather sofa. The girl still hadn't seen Tilly, but Charlie was well aware of their watcher, sat in her room, fixated on what was happening some thirty feet away. He knew, alright, and he was about to show her something she could stick in one of her little novels.

Purposely he danced the half-naked feminine form towards the back of the leather sofa they'd been fooling around on. In time to the music he turned the bombshell so she was facing away from him. His hands ran from the tanned shoulders down to the nicely pert behind, which was very warm to the touch.

Getting up close behind her, his hand lifted to the girl's nape to push her forward, thereby bending her away from him, face down towards the cushions. In one movement the G-string was whisked away to land somewhere over there, hanging from an up-lighter. Then he dipped down to crouch behind the body before him.

The music continued as Tilly realised what his next move was. She blushed easily, and it was hot and uncomfortable from where she sat. Turning in her chair, she went to stand but was rendered stationary as Charlie reappeared to his full height. The back of his hand was wiped over his mouth and goatee. That could only mean one thing.

Sat in her secluded spot Tilly wanted to shimmer and fade away, the way they do in Star Trek when they're beamed down onto a planet far below them. It didn't happen, but she knew of several planets she'd rather be on at that moment in time. Her eyes had turned away when the hottest of the action started, her embarrassment a burning wave washing over her, her insides churning.

Stealing herself another look, she wished she hadn't. Charlie was doing the blonde from behind, over the couch. All the faces were being pulled, the mouth actions too. Knowing she would have to duck away somehow, she briefly glanced to her left and the bathroom door. That didn't feel that far away, it was just there. That, she could make in one mad dash. What else did she have?

The voices in the other room lifted above the volume of the piped music, their duet ranging in a variation of mid-tones and notes. There were two particular words expressed by both, Tilly noticed, they were Shit and God, and were both preceded by an Arh or an Oh.

Charlie added a whole collection of dialogue as he rendered himself empty. His final thrusts were accompanied by a bunch of guttural grunts before he stood up straight and ended his scene. With his jeans back I place, he left the girl, motionless, in her bent position. Once done, he turned and strutted away, his evil grin still welded in place.

'Hey, Till,' he shouted, 'I'm making a coffee before I send the rump home, you want one?' he laughed, walking off towards the kitchen, the blonde lifting her head as the strange name was shouted across the room.

'Urh ... No thanks,' was the nervously called reply, 'I have grape juice, but thanks for asking, Charlie ... Night ...'

### ~

Clive, the Director, was very quiet as he quickly read through Tilly's changes. When he finished, he placed the Script on his desk, lifted his thumb to his mouth and started to gnaw at the nail. His eyes rose to look over at Tilly, sat, looking very worried. The Team were much the same. Either what was written worked, and they could all get back to it, or they didn't, and he was about to blow his top, again.

Clive spoke through his hand. 'I want everyone to leave ... Except Tilly ...'

So they did, and they all looked down at her as they made their exit, all glad it wasn't them being kept back after class.

Silence in Clive's office, nothing, not even a clock ticking. He looked away from Tilly, his eyes resting on the photo of his wife and daughters. Making films was the greatest and the hardest job in the world. There were egos to pander too, bigheads to placate, and writers who thought they might be able to help put a Script on his desk, one that worked.

Tally sat with sweat trickling down her spine, his office as stuffy as a packed lift on a scorcher of a day. She swallowed a dry swallow, it nearly closed her throat. Reaching forward she took the water offered by Clive. He even smiled as he did it.

'Tilly ... These, these changes ...'

'Arh, I'm sorry, Clive, if they're crap then say so ... If you hate the new lines, tell me, I'll change them again, and again, until they're right ... I don't mind, honest,' she lied.

'... Are amazing ... I love them,' was all he said.

'You do! ... Do you think they're enough? I ran through the scene, trying to see the movie in my head as I wrote it in the book, and there they were, just waiting for me to find them ...'

'I don't know where you get this stuff from but, yeah, they work ... Now, I was gonna ask ... Can you be at hand throughout the shoot, just in case I need your input ... The work you've done so far is inspiring ... I hope, together, we can make a Blockbuster outta that story you wrote ... And if you want in, you got it, Tilly ... You've made me a believer, so, let's get this party started,' Clive smiled, leaning back in his chair.

So, the movie was put into production, the music being composed by Tilly and Charlie, and the cast picked from a thousand excellent choices, as the giant cogs turned and focused cameras rolled. An industry in a hanger studio started telling a story which had wanted to be told. It regarded the greatest of loves, one worked for and found under a lasting friendship. It was also one which was destined to last a lifetime but, sadly, the lifetime was only five years, in the case of one of the protagonists. In an instant their lives change, two lovers are faced with choices they never thought they would ever have to make, but make them they must.

Tilly was on standby the whole time. Going on location was amazing. She had her own trailer, worked really well with the young starlet cast, made new friends, and even put in ridiculous hours, just to be in on the mix. Time meant nothing to her, she could go and crash when she wanted, only to be up, bright and early, ready for another exciting day to unravel.

As the movie's epic love song finale faded in over the ending monologue, the hearts of all those in the viewing-room almost broke. Clive was the first to speak, sat in his spot right in the middle. He had watched intently, his fingers to his lips, elbows propped on the arms. He'd studied the angle here, the light reflection there, and watched for all the changes, not just in script but direction too. He knew one thing though, and, as the silence swept in and the credits ended, he voiced it from his folding seat.

'Well,' he grinned, looking over at Tilly and Charles, 'I don't know about you, guys ... But that just made my ass tingle ... Look! I still got goose bumps on my arms,' he chuckled, his tanned limbs lifting for all to see.

An outburst of applause erupted as the team cheered at all their intensely hard work. Together, with a story written in a foreign land, they had produced a movie every inch the Blockbuster Clive said it would be. Yet again, he was right.

### Part 2

Think About It

In the time spent working together Tilly and Charlie found they were quite a team. Their devotion to the project was a chain of events that produced some of the most stunning music Clive and Patsy had ever heard. In several sections, where the tears flowed, the strings soared, climbing and coaxing you into sorrow. With a change of scene came a crescendo to describe a broken heart and a shattered dream. Most of all, the closing track, written between them, and slaved over for weeks, was the one to end such an emotional journey. Everyone was ecstatic, Clive especially, and Tilly and Charlie had relished the chance to write a great power ballad together.

Tilly was what Charlie called a dark horse, and she was, about a lot of things. Though she might be heard to call most of them useless talents, there was one thing Tilly did pretty well, aside from writing a good tale. From an early age she'd always wanted to learn to play an instrument. There wasn't much money in their one-parent household, so one was not going to be forthcoming from that direction. Luckily for Tilly, she was a swat and sailed into High School. It was in her first year that her compulsory music lessons started, and her life became a lot brighter for it.

Her Music Teacher, Mister McAllen, said she was a natural, she could sing, she could dance, she was even funny sometimes, but there was one thing she was lacking, the ability to be a show-off. That was the only thing that held Tilly back, and it was to be a curse until she found the internet. There she could plaster any of her writing all over the place and, best of all, she could be anonymous.

Well, Mister McAllen taught her to play a lot of instruments, the drums, the triangle, the recorder and finally, the guitar. She took to it as if the strings were an extension of her own fingers, her head bent and her practice constant. She was able to borrow one from school to study at home, evenings and weekends, the hours lost to six pieces of wire and some hollow wood with a hole in it. It saved her from going crazy when her Dad died too. Having just bought one three weeks before, she drifted into learning all his favourite songs, just for him.

The only time she ever played in front of people was at his funeral. Jumbled nerves told her not to do it, that the stress would be too much and she'd cock it up somehow. The classical piece had been a real bitch to learn, but learn it she had, because he'd loved it and had played it all the time in his car. Performed on an electric acoustic, in a fairly large church, had the people showing rare emotions they never thought they had. Tilly struggled through it, tears tipping over now and then, her face lowered, being brave. She promised she'd never play a guitar again, and she didn't, for years.

Charlie had dragged her out for a drive one beautiful, balmy, Californian day. They left the city and headed south on the coast road, before pulling off along a side lane.

Tilly looked over at Charles, her shades down as usual.

'Where are we going? You still haven't said.'

'You'll see ... I have something to show you ... Look, we're there already,' he smiled, driving through some tall gates into a large driveway beyond.

'Is this someone's house? Tilly asked, twisting a strand of dark hair around her finger.

'Nope ... It's not a house ...'

She tried again.

'Is it ... A strip joint?'

'No ... It is not a strip joint, Tilly, please ...'

'Okay, so, come on, what is it then? Tell me ... Please,' Tilly whined, looking over the top of her sunglasses at him, her bottom lip turned out a little, just like a big kid.

'No ... I'm not telling you ... It'll spoil the surprise,' he chuckled as they swept around the large fancy looking building.

They pulled to a halt in a very quiet parking area, nothing and no one else about. For midday that seemed rather strange, but Tilly went with it because Charlie seemed really excited all of a sudden.

Turning to her he smiled, 'Follow me ... I think you're gonna like this, Till ...'

He climbed from the car and took a few paces. Stopping, he turned to wait, the look on his face making him seem so boyish in his actions, a little kid on Christmas morning, hyper almost.

Joining him, she watched as he jingled the keys in his hand. They moved towards a glass fronted reception and Charlie held the door open to gain access. It smelt newly carpeted, and the walls were covered in all things music, posters, plaques, signed photos and signed shirts.

Instruments sat in big cases with famous names attached. Even records were mounted, or hung, in pride of place. It was such a vast collection, so many years in the making and across so many decades, but it all had that one thing in common, good Rock Music.

Charlie took her hand in his and led the way. They trod the plush pile down a long corridor and stood before a locked door.

'Okay ... Close your eyes, please, and keep them closed ... When I say so, you can open them ...'

So, Tilly did as she was asked and Charlie unlocked his secret chamber. She heard the key turn and the soft snap of metal shifting. His voice suddenly appeared through the bleakness found behind closed lids.

'Keep them closed ... Now, I just need to move you a few paces forward, just so I can close the door for the full effect ... Step this way, please ...'

Tilly took a hand and was shifted to the required position. She awaited her fate as a scene from Carrie flashed through her mind, a prom night from hell with lots of blood.

'Charlie ... Charlie ...'

Silence in the warm darkness, the hand still there, still holding on.

'Okay ... You can open them now,' his voice finally replied, his tone soft and gentle.

Tilly was very quiet to begin with as she looked around, her surroundings exactly where she envisioned Charlie on a daily basis.

'... Wow ... No, really ... Wow ... And they're yours? ... All of them?' she beamed, taking in all the amazing instruments around her, from acoustics to basses, and a very nice kit that had double bass drums, to a baby grand stood in the corner. It was enough to make her chuckle.

Charlie circled like a moon explaining everything in the latest addition to his studio collection. Tilly listened as she walked and looked, in the office, in the vocals booth, behind and beyond. Another of Tilly's useless talents, being nosy, and she was, all over the place.

'Very nice, Charlie, very nice indeed ... And is this where KerKaine will lose their brain?' she giggled, looking over at him, sat on his piano stool.

He smiled the lovely smile she liked the best, as he crossed his arms.

'Well, yeah, most of it, some stuff we'll record in other places, like we did at Clive's ... On the whole though, most of the magic will be produced here ... I wanted you to see it, it's a special place, great things will happen within these walls ... It has a cool vibe to work in too, relaxed, not heavy ... I like that, it helps me concentrate ...'

Tilly walked over and sat near a beautiful blue acoustic, it reminded her of one she had once. The tickle started in her fingers but she pushed it back down. Looking over at Charles she spoke.

'But that's not why you carted me over here, is it? There's more to it than that, isn't there?' she asked, her eyes drifting around the room to look at all that spent money.

'Okay, you got me ... I did want to ask you something ... It's something I been thinking about for a while, and ...'

The phone in the office started to ring. Charlie was going to ignore it.

'Aren't you going to answer it,' Tilly smiled, 'or will it pick up on the machine?'

'Let it pick up ... I'll deal with it later ...'

It stopped, and the silence was a far kinder sound. Charlie smiled and tried again.

'Where was I? Oh, yeah ...'

It started ringing again, the sound louder for some reason, as if it were desperate to be answered.

'It'll pick up, I promise,' he grinned, feebly.

Tilly wasn't convinced.

'It could be important, Charlie, maybe someone trying to find you for a reason.'

'Nah, it won't be ... It'll be ...'

It stopped again, having not rung long enough for the machine to swipe it off the line.

'See, just jokers ... It's always the jokers ... Bet it doesn't ...'

Again it started to ring. Charlie stood and stalked off towards the office.

'Two seconds, Till ... I'll be back ... This won't take a moment,' he grinned, and off he trotted.

Tilly sat and waited, she twiddled and fiddled and twiddled some more. Two seconds turned into two minutes and he rambled on for lots of them. Boredom was not a friend to Tilly, her hands always doing something. Her right idly dropped to the acoustic neck sat beside her, a finger plucked a string, the note as clear as a sunny day on the Cape. There it was, that finger tingle, it buzzed and bubbled and made her digits curl and straighten, just as they did right before she sat down to practice.

Leaning back on her seat, she glanced in the direction of the office into which Charlie had stormed. He was around the corner, out of sight, and she couldn't hear him either, suggesting he'd closed an inner door to have his private conversation. It was probably a girl so he'd be gone for ages, chatting and flirting as usual.

Tilly seized her opportunity to take advantage of an empty studio where she was free to play, alone. Lifting the blue acoustic, it came to rest on her thigh as if it were built to be there. Her left hand run the neck, up and down, the feel of it waking up a side she thought lost years ago. One strum said it was perfectly tuned, and it rang out, that one perfect sound.

As Charlie ended his call with Anna-Lee, he heard the soft plinking sound carrying into the outer office. It was sunny and light, and coming from his studio? He walked out in a hurry, needing to know who was playing. Charlie was stunned to find it was Tilly. Standing to watch, he kept his silence in fear she might stop her playing. Leaning against the doorframe, his arms came up to cross as he listened and smiled.

He'd never heard Here Comes The Sun played like that before. It sounded classical, bright and clear, and it was perfect, as it gently trickled from the six-string in her hands. It seemed to flow from her fingers, as if she were typing the notes. He watched as her head slowly nodded from side to side, her eyes closed, completely lost in the act. She was very good, and he was very impressed.

As the last note rung out to hold in the air before her, Charlie's hands came up and he clapped until they burnt. Walking towards her his face was alight with such a performance, even he couldn't play like that.

Tilly's head snapped round. 'Oh, Christ, sorry, did I interrupt your call? ... I didn't mean to,' she blabbed, putting the beautiful guitar back where it belonged.

Charlie walked over and stood before her, looking down, his arms crossed again.

'Ha, you just love pulling the wool over my eyes, don't ya? What other useless talents do you have, which are that useless? ... I know it's what you're gonna say ... You always do when you show me something amazing and I ask you about it ... You did it to me when we were writing those lyrics ... I thought mine were pretty damn good, then you walk in with what you call a few okay lines, and they were incredible, blew mine outta the damn water ... And here you are, doing it again with the only thing I'm any good at ... Music ...'

Tilly sat and watched Charlie have his say. She went to speak but he carried on before she even had a chance.

'Tilly, you have to tell me, and you have to be honest with me,' he grinned, taking the stool opposite her, '... Did you really need me to help you write the music for the movie?'

Tilly was very quiet. Her eyes didn't drop as she answered his question. She didn't smile either, as she spoke.

'Charlie, you're a great musician ... I love your music ... I ...'

That was when they dropped away, looking down, left, right, anywhere but forward.

'I get it ... So, why then? If you didn't need my help, why did you want me in on the project? Any band or artist would have jumped at the chance ... Why did you want me, Tilly?'

She stood and walked away towards the office door, her left hand thumb nervously rubbing the palm of her right. The playing, it had made her fingers ache for not warming up first, the joints humming slightly.

'Please, Charlie,' she turned to face him, 'it's not what you think ... I'm not a stalker or anything, I promise ...'

He looked around the room. 'Well, that's okay then ... Seeing as you've been living at my place for weeks ... To think, you could've crept into my darkened room to have your evil way with me, at any point,' he grinned.

'Well, yeah, I could have ... But I wouldn't have, because I'm not your type, Charlie ... I never have been,' she grinned back, the child showing in the older woman. It beamed from her face, all aglow and full of mischief.

Charlie loved that.

'Come on then, Little Miss Secrets, what is my type? ... No, don't answer that ... You'll probably say busty blondes, but there's more to me than that,' he chuckled.

Tilly didn't want to hurt him, she didn't want to lose him as a friend but, at the same time, she couldn't afford to show her true feelings. From the moment that shock bounced between their brushing hands, she knew. Tilly was on a mission, and it was to help Charlie move on. Sadly, things don't always turn out how you hope.

'Charlie ... The reason I wanted you to have the contract for the film ... I wanted to give you something, something that showed the world you're not what they think you are, that there is more to you, that you do have depths, and you are a talented guy in many ways ... Yes, I care about you, I do, so I wanted this for you ... You're inspirational, young, and have years of experiences to come, just don't waste it on needless things ... Please ...'

Her words fell from her, no longer kept within, the truth on the table and nothing left to hide. If he wanted the truth, he only had to ask.

First Charlie was taken aback some, then he was a bit angry, and, finally, a little perplexed as none it made any sense. Her face showed her in a new light, awkward, standing alone, as if seen for the first time, a total stranger again. That worried him more than anything. She hadn't lied. She just hadn't told him the full truth of the matter. He didn't know what to do with that.

The last thing was confusion.

'Tilly,' he said, his eyebrows meeting in the middle, 'you have rendered me speechless ... I don't know what to say or how to feel ... Was any of it real or by accident, or did you plan it all with Clive?'

She walked back to sit on her stool.

'It all started when an old friend read my silly story ... Next thing I knew it had been passed to her then boyfriend, some bloke called Clive ... Her name was Patsy Collins when I first knew her, now she's a Hollywood Producer ... Him getting his hands on it, that was over three years ago and old news now ... Time flits by in Tinsel Town ... I already knew about your separation, how it floored you, how things went downhill until the tour kicked off in the States ...'

Charlie moved slightly on his stool, letting the blood circulate before the next chapter of her amazing creation. He remembered Clive being cagey about something just before the tour hit the road. As he recalled, that was also about the time Rona, his eldest sister, first mentioned the greatest love story of all time.

'And ... What came next? Did you have them all watching me or something? Did Clive put my ass on the line for the job, or has Patsy got the hots for me now?' he sarcastically smiled.

'Look, Charlie,' she chided, 'you're the one who asked so you're gonna bloody well hear it ... I'm sorry you found out like this, but all I wanted to do was help you by giving you something else to think about ... Clive said you seemed, lost ... Look at you, then look at me, we're different in a million ways, miles apart, opposite sides ... That's what we do, that's why we work so well ... For you, as soon as you get involved, romantically, it all turns to shit ... What was once a dream is suddenly a complete mare, and you're still married to yours ... Well, I wasn't going to let that happen to us, regardless of how much powder I shoved up my nose ... See, that's where we're different again, Charlie ... I know my limits ... Do you know yours?'

She sounded annoyed as she started her little speech. It was direct if nothing else. Tilly was a whole new breed, something Charlie had never dealt with before, a woman with a wicked and clever mind, just like his. By the time she was half way through, her tone had softened, sounding a little sad towards the end.

Charlie's mind was blown, splat, out the side of his head, a red mess on the floor by the purple twelve-string. The subject, the one he'd mentioned on arrival, just before he took that call, he held it inside, scattered it to the darkness within, never to be mentioned. It was another of Charlie's bright ideas, to do an album together, his music, her lyrics, maybe using a fresh voice to pull it all together. Suddenly it seemed she didn't need him for anything, she was so smart she could do it all by herself.

A big sigh was released, the kind that holds a lot of air and is quite loud when expelled. His eyes travelled the room before going back to Tilly still sat before him. He was gutted, almost broken, but not quite.

'Yeah,' he half smiled, 'ha, I know my limits, Tilly, and I'm sorry too ... You're gonna have to go ... You can't stay with me anymore ... It's not how it works, that's just too much ...'

And with that he stood, turned away, and walked to the door. As he opened it to leave, his sad voice spoke over his shoulder.

'I'll ring Silvio, get him to pick you up from here, Clive too, see if you can still have the beach house he mentioned ... I'm going over to Kimberley's ... I'll be gone three days ... Don't be at mine when I get back ...'

A single tear broke free and ran a warm course down a pale cheek. Blue eyes closed slowly as a crackle of hurt blistered just beneath the surface. Sorrow and the word sorry are the saddest combination. A tanned hand lifted to brush it away, the eyes blinking quickly as sunlight filled them.

Charlie wiped his face quickly with the back of his hand. Just being in a car was probably a bad idea, but jacking round the coastal road, at mega high speed, seemed a really good one at the time. As his tyres hit the tarmac, heading south, the red Corvette raced towards forgetting the conversation he'd just had. Notching it up one, the engine gagging to be gone, he realised only one thing. It was as he'd finished speaking, at that point when her pretty eyes slowly filled with tears. That was when it happened, that was when he'd finally broken inside.

### ~

He didn't go to Kimberley's, he couldn't. She was on a photo shoot in Paris, France, so he drove the roads until it grew dark. Parking up, he sat by the Hollywood sign, looking down over all those lives being lived.

Charlie loved and hated L.A., he always had. On arrival the buzz kept him up for nights on end, feasting on his new surroundings, drinking in the glory days, collecting his memories galore, along with the odd chick and drug habit. He also loved sex, lots of sex. He loved it standing up, laying down, in the shower, over a car, in a car, over a motorbike, on the beach, in the sea, and even in a tiny toilet, thirty-six thousand feet above land. He was a Scorpio, but his libido had just been floored for a fortnight.

The first night was spent, alone, in the penthouse suite of The Hotel Hills View. It was okay, the bar was stocked, and all the added extras were where they should be, and at $5,500 a night, so they should. It was big and quiet, a mere place to crash, and all the time there, he had but one thought plague his mind.

She was to curse his dreams, folding herself into a sideways glance or reflection in a window, one flinch and she was gone. When he heard her call his name, as he stood cleaning his teeth in the bathroom, he thought he was losing his mind. He didn't stay there another night.

There was no way he was going to Dev's, he'd had enough of him for a while, the guys was bad luck on legs, let's face it. His band members were scattered all over the world on their vacations, his Dad was in Europe, somewhere, with his older sister and her family, camping. Before he knew it he was hitting signs for Beverley Hills. Suddenly remembering something Clive had said, he changed lanes and headed west instead. Tom's beach house was empty.

He slowly slid down the long drive, looking for anyone, a gardener, housekeeper, any signs of any kind of life, but no one was there, it was empty as told. Parking at an angle, he found he was beyond eyesight from the road, his car known by so many.

Taking the rear steps, on the beachside of the property, he was interested to see it wasn't a huge place by any means, but nicely positioned with a full view of the ocean. Approaching the backdoor, on the upper decking, he looked around for what he wanted to find. There, over by the swinging seat, was a big flower pot. He walked over and rolled it to one side. Speaking to no one he thanked his host for being so predictable.

Before putting any key in any lock, he was wise enough to check for an alarm. He noticed the canine security sign just at the perimeter of the private section of beach. There was no alarm wire as there was no need for one.

As he went to put the key in the lock something came to mind. Seems he wasn't as clever as he first thought. As his hand hit the doorknob, it turned in his palm, suddenly opening.

'Well, well, well ... Thought you'd gone over to see old posh-pants for a few days ... What happened? Did she blow you off again?' said the voice from the gloom within.

Charlie nearly shat himself, stood there, not able to see the face, but knowing the voice as if a line in a song. It was the woman who had been haunting him.

Tilly stepped into the light. 'What's wrong, you're ashen, cat got ya tongue?'

Charlie didn't speak, he couldn't.

'Well, you did tell me to leave, and this was where you told me to go ... But then, I suppose that's one up from hell,' she grinned, just as sarcastically as he would have after such a remark, whilst crossing her arms, just like he did all the time.

His face was a collision of emotion, none of which made any sense to him. Thinking straight wasn't happening either, he'd already tried, but his thought process had deserted him and left him without a single word available.

'Charlie,' she suddenly softened to him, 'please, don't let this be a thing between us ... I'd hate for us to not be friends ... I'm gonna say this because I really mean it ... Since I've been here ... You've become very special to me ...'

She moved passed him onto the deck and walked to the swing seat, the one with a view to ponder over. She spoke as she sat down, her face turning towards that vast spread of deep water.

'There are things about me, Charlie ... Things you don't know ... Things I don't want you, or general people, to know ... They're rather deep and don't concern anyone else but me ... I deal with them because I have to ... That's what I do, deal with stuff ...'

Her eyes turned to the man she'd loved from the moment she'd first heard sing, ten years before their meeting.

'Sometimes I look at you and see a beautiful broken heart all wrapped up in that naughty boy exterior of yours ... Charlie, you're a Playboy, a jester, you laugh and sing, and make thousands of people happy with what you do ... But what then? When the stages are cleared and the lights go down, where are you? Where do you go, Charlie? Where does your loneliness lead you? ... Somewhere or nowhere, that's the choice ... And it's the only one we have, like it or not ...'

His blue eyes could have cried a river for all the things he felt all the time. He saw his failed marriage, his wanting to be alone but hating it, his loving a woman that couldn't love him back for whatever reason. There was nowhere to go with something so big. It was already crushing him under its weight, his own strength slowly drained for shouldering such a bulky load.

Tilly could have wept for him, her kindred spirit, her bestest friend. He looked lost again, as though misplaced from the land of his birth. Watery eyes looked over at her, his emotion on the verge of spilling over.

He had only one thing to ask her, and it was shouted across the few feet that was the vast chasm between them.

'WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME?'

There was fire in that blood, fire that burnt and boiled, hot as Hades and twice as red. It was chasing around his veins as he stood looking over at her, her ordinarily beautiful face, and the way her cheeks had paled so. He was captivated by someone who didn't turn heads, she wasn't a stunner, and never tried to be. Tilly was a unique package, but Charlie was falling in love with her, and he didn't understand why.

It was a small sound, her voice, when she did eventually speak.

'I do love you, Charlie, just not in the way you want me to ...'

'And that's the truth, is it?' he quickly asked. 'Just so I'm sure this time ... I wouldn't want to get all confused about it now, would I?' he replied, his mannerisms suggesting he was on the verge of giving up and leaving.

Tilly kept her voice low and calm for a reason. She was trying to cover up the start of the end, and she couldn't let Charlie get that close. It wasn't fair on him.

'It is, and I wish you'd believe me, Charlie,' she softly said. 'God, with everything we've done together, everything we've achieved, I've always thought of you as my closest friend over here ... All I have is you, Charlie ... You're it ... And I wouldn't have it any other way, really I wouldn't,' she smiled slowly.

He rushed to her side and sat down, his words a jumble in his mouth as his brain took over with the thinking too fast thing.

'Tilly ... Life's too short and we're a long time dead, honey ... Don't you think we could make it work? Is that what's holding you back? Or is it that I'm still married? Those things aren't a problem ... We can do it ... But only if you believe enough to trust me on this ... That's all I ask ... Just trust me, please,' he almost pleaded, gently taking her left hand in his to lift and kiss.

Before he had the chance it was slowly withdrawn.

Tilly rose and walked to the balustrade that faced the beach. She turned and leant against it, her hands coming up to rest on the rough wood. There was a hint of a smile as her eyes lifted to Charlie, sat where she'd left him.

'I believe in you, Charlie, I always have, never doubt that, please ... I love that you look out for me, take me places, show me things ... Every day is an education with you, you know so much, and that excites me and I'm never bored, and I love that too ... At the same time, I don't want to spoil what we have, you're my friend and I do love you, dearly ... I never wanted to give you cause for sadness, Charlie Kerman, but all I see is more heartache for both of us, and haven't you already had your share of that?'

Everything she said, she was right, she was, and he knew it as well as she did. He understood everything, and even followed her reasoning. Though her argument was a little flimsy he gave her the benefit of the doubt because he was falling in love with her.

'So, what now then, where do we go from here? Answer me that, Miss Tilly Stiller ...'

'Well, me,' she grinned over at him, 'I'm going in there for a G and T ... You fancy one?'

He stood, smiling, as he pulled his jeans into a more comfortable position, and walked over to her. Stopping before her, he leant against her warm body, the one that fitted his so well. His head bobbed forward to kiss her nose quickly, it twitched and made him chuckle.

'Okay, I'll join you for a G and T on one condition,' he smiled in that devilishly gorgeous way of his.

Tilly grinned as she stretched up and gently bit his goateed chin. It made his smile beam, just the way she liked it.

'What's that then?' she giggled from her squashed location.

'I'll drink your cheap gin only if you let me stay being your best friend ...'

'Deal ... But if you don't like the cheap gin you can always have the cheap bourbon, it's all the same really ...'

And, so, the light banter continued as they walked into the small cottage by the sea, an arm around each other, talking as if it were a fresh start, their argument to be put in a song at a later date.

### ~

Christmas came and went, Tilly's birthday too. Not much was done for that, but it was celebrated in Tilly Style with only one person, her best friend, Charlie. Long hours had taken a toll on her, not straight away, but when she got back to it, her routine that is. Some tasks were a pain, the gym becoming one of them. Tilly was getting more and more tired.

A cold wind cut in off the coast, the rain drenching the empty beach, that spring being a rather wet one. She decided a break away would be nice, if only to blow the sand from the crevices. Being by the sea through another gale force winter wasn't a good idea, and as it seemed to have its own stormy microclimate, which sometimes lasted for days.

Creaking roofs and creeping dunes only hold a certain amount of appeal for a certain amount of time. Tilly realised that, as the winter became the spring. Another novel had been completed and was sat on the Publisher's list. Then started the waiting game, the one she hated so much.

Escape was always quite high on Tilly's list. If there was an opportunity to see some of the world she was gone, bag packed, checked-in already. Having a peaceful and calming space to write was always quite important, especially if she needed to set a mood. Background music was to be kept low, but still part of the process. Having the right balance of tunes helped create the loveliest fluidity and crafting of words, the final draft a reflection of her dream.

Peggy, her house-helper, told her about the house by the lake. It had belonged to Peggy's Grandmother, on her father's side, and stood empty most of the year, except when the family stayed there through the summer season. Through winter and spring it had few guests grace its parlour and den, the rooms sheeted in white, the silence waiting to be broken again.

An arrangement was made. Tilly took it for a month, her retreat required to finish the latest journey on her laptop, the one that was starting to go places. In L.A. there were interruptions all the time, calls to make, calls to take, people coming in, people going out, it never stopped. When her front door locked at night, the sigh would be a gust of stale air, which would burst forth, the last sound to be heard all evening.

After two weeks, there, on her own, she started to get bored in the evenings. There weren't any neighbours to drop in, as it was out of season, so it was just her and the old fishermen. TV was rubbish, even with a thousand channels to choose from she couldn't settle for more than two minutes. Something was missing, and at first she couldn't work out what it was. She had booze, smokes, her phone, everything. So what the hell was it?

Maybe a spell had been cast over her, she didn't know, but when she put the radio on in the living room, she soon heard what the missing piece to the puzzle was.

KerKaine bounded from the speakers, Charlie's voice filling her ears. There you go, that was the answer, Charlie Rock Star Kerman.

Within the week he was there, parked up, and hugging the very life out of her. Promising to stay until her return to the city, he offered her a lift back when it was time to go. It was a great idea, and they were back to chatting and catching up, their friendship slowly blooming in the light of a fresh new day.

Charlie lazed and loitered, had taken to jogging the amazing lake's perimeter every morning, and went fishing when the weather was kind enough to let him leave the pretty abode. Standing two stories high, the white exterior cladding looked ready to peel, but the paint was determined to stay adhered to the wood and wasn't ready to let go, not just yet. Pointed roofs and round attic windows, square flowerbeds and various fruit trees, it all looked so perfect, sat a short distance from that beautiful stretch of flat water.

Tilly loved it in the moment she landed and saw it. The heavy oak door was unlocked, and she was in, boiling the kettle, before her driver had reversed to leave. She was home.

Charlie felt the same, a home from home and just as cosy. He lounged in the lounge, read in the den, listened to good music whilst stretched before a roaring fire. Life was suddenly simple and easy, there was no rushing, no running, it was them alone, in each other's company, and loving every second of it.

Separate rooms were a given, as when she was staying at his, plus they shared the amenities. Plenty of space gave them plenty of room to move. While Tilly was working upstairs in the office, Charlie could sit and tinker on his guitar and watch TV, the sound muted, as always. He liked doing that, making up his own jingles to adverts. Sometimes they were quite good, others, they were just plain silly.

Their first week together was spent in that way, chilling and chatting, doing and not doing. It was nice and they worked well together, but they always had. Come the weekend Charlie was starting to suffer a small amount of cabin fever. They had to get out more.

Corkey's was a strange little drinking house, for that's as big as it was, and not much bigger than where they had taken up residence. It was very quiet, nearly empty, except for a few old guys and the chap behind the bar, serving. On aged Jukebox bopped away in the corner, the country tracks all well-known and well loved.

A table was taken, and their order along with it, the atmosphere not at all uncomfortable. Lowered voices bantered over by the bar, their old heads turning to check the city types out. It was so obvious that's who they were. The main clue being they were well dressed and very clean.

They arrived, the drinks, post-haste, sat on a tray, straight to their table, coasters included. They were treated to a bottle of their best bourbon, a nice jug of iced spring water, and a dish of small pretzels, courtesy of the house.

'One of them's recognised you,' Tilly whispered, leaning across the table to pour them both a drink.

'Nah, it's not me ... Bet it's you ... Fifty bucks says it is,' Charlie chuckled, crossing his arms on the table to make his reply.

'Okay, you're so on ... Whoever gets the first request pays for all the drinks,' she grinned.

'Okay, deal, Miss Stiller,' he smiled back at her.

So, they sat and put the world to rights, they laughed and sniggered, and had a great time getting drunk in the quiet bar. When a song Tilly like swooned into play, Charlie took his chance, one he'd waited on for ages.

'Hey ... You wanna dance?' he asked, standing, his hand lifting to take her's.

'What, here, now ...?' she asked, looking around the dirty old walls, checking out the tacky floor, then glancing over at the old pool table, hardly standing on the far side of the room.

'Yeah, go one then, I'd love to, Charlie,' she smiled, taking the offered digits.

So, dance slowly they did, in a soft embrace, quietly talking as they turned in small circles. Whilst in the motion, they were approached by two of the old boys. They beamed as they came to a standstill beside them, their faces shining with a simple excitement.

The taller of them spoke first.

'Hey, pretty lady ... Sorry to interrupt, but my friend here, Cletus, and myself ... Well, we'd like to ask ya both a question, just so ya could clarify something for a couple of old cutes like us,' he grinned, in a kindly way.

Tilly smiled, 'Of course ... Ask away ...'

She suddenly wondered whether she should have been so eager to please, and them being total strangers too.

Charlie pulled a face. Too late, she'd said it already.

'Well, we was just wondering ... Are you guys that Angelina and Brad couple, them that are always in the papers, and on TV, or in the movies?'

Charlie nearly exploded and had to turn away. Tilly just about kept it together, but still had to make some sort of reply. Charlie couldn't. He'd already walked off, back to their table, quietly laughing to himself.

'Urh, no, that's not us, I'm sorry we let you down ... No, I'm Princess Cordelia of England ... And that man, over there, is The Crowned Prince Mateo of Middle Mercia ... We're on the run from our hideous families that want us to marry others ... We're hiding out by the lake ... Please don't tell anyone you saw us ... If it gets back to my father he'll come for me, and I'll just die, I know I will,' she pleaded, her sad face and clasped hands adding to the urgency of it all.

The shorter of the two men stepped forward and finally spoke, looking up at his friend.

'Now you owe me that fifty bucks, Billy-Joe ... You was wrong and I was right ... Pay up,' he almost giggled, taking the ten dollar bills from his friend's hand.

'Yeah, sure you're an English Princess and he's a Crowned Prince, just not in this life, precious,' he laughed. 'You're that Tilly Stiller, the English Writer ... And he's that Kerman fella, who sings and plays in that rock band outta L.A. ... Nice try, sweet-cheeks, but we ain't all hillbillies out here ... I do have satellite TV, just to put ya right ...'

The bet was won, but only for Cletus, the other bucks stayed where it should, in a bank account somewhere. A pleasant evening was spent chatting and dancing with the old boys, as the drinks vanished, along with the hours. Strolling home, by moonlight, was another lovely moment to harvest for future reference. Everything considered, their evening was well worth that short walk out, and it was a million times better than stagnating in front of more crap TV.

Tilly followed in the direction Charlie had gone, her concern evident on her face. Out to the kitchen, via the hall, and into the garden she headed. Looking and searching, she tried to seek him out. Scanning the spread of lawn, across the flowerbeds and off toward the garage she gazed, trying to track his location. Seeing his footprints on the wet grass, acting as a signpost, she followed them towards the forest.

Charlie was a bit strange sometimes, and in many ways. She'd learnt a lot of things about the good-looking music man, with his slow smile and pretty eyes, but he was a deep one who kept his cards to his chest most of the time. Standing over six feet tall, he was rather a nice build, with broad shoulders and long legs. His moods were odd too, sometimes he could be all deep and meaningful, and then sometimes he would go looking for an argument, loving the raised voices and pointed fingers.

Tilly knew something was wrong. After she took her phone call, he changed as he silently walked away from the kitchen door, a cold look to sweep across his face. Okay, she had to go home, but they both knew that. Her life rested in another land, her family along with it, she was never going to stay in L.A. for good, and Tilly thought he knew that too.

The gravel path led through the black trees, all dripping from the passing storm. Birds were heard up on high, suddenly back with a new song, as if washed clean, a chorus from above. Trainers crunched as Tilly took in her fresh surroundings. It was so beautiful there, so peaceful, the trail a sight to behold. Insects buzzed by in the cool air, their drone to bounce off the trunks of trees and be lost to a new noise.

Tilly loved the sound of water lapping at a shore, seaside or lake, it made no difference. It calmed and drifted and could even be a blessing on a hot day. Yet, on a day of drizzle, it could be just as thought provoking, if only in a more serene way.

Silence hung across the vast pond, the boats seen as tiny bobbing toys in the distance. Forever increasing circles appeared as a bubble popped on its surface, the fish were biting, rising and taking in that lovey clean oxygen. It was a haven for all that found it, Charlie included.

He was sat alone on a driftwood trunk, felled in the passing storm, washed up overnight, as so many had. Around him hovered a pool of gnats, ducking and diving, their pattern a constant halo. His head dropped forward, a hand rubbing at his temple, shoulders slumped, his sorrow a heavy collar to carry

She would have gone back, but she didn't. The fact she cared meant something to her if no one else. She watched as his head lifted to look out over the water, his shoulders not altering much for his change of position. Wanting to be there but not be there, she looked at the fallen tree behind her. Walking over, she sat down and started to roll herself a smoke. There was no shouting his name, there was no need. Just being near was enough, so he wasn't alone on his secluded inlet.

Charlie felt so frustrated it was bruising him on the inside. He didn't want to lose Tilly to England, but he knew it was coming, and he knew it would be soon. Sometimes things affected him in a funny way, yet he knew most of his limits, and he knew he was strong enough to deal with most things, he had already, but there was one thing that was killing him, and he couldn't tell a soul.

In his mind he had simply woken up. One day, when he wasn't looking, a change swept in and lifted a veil from across his eyes. Never in his born days did he think it would happen, and there wasn't a chance in hell it would ever have a resolve.

If she hadn't have got so pissed that night he would never have known. He hated the fact that she'd told him the truth of her feelings. Next day there hadn't been a change in her at all, but there had been in him. He remembered every word she'd said, every detail, every second. At first he was angry she hadn't and then, over time, that morphed into something else. It wasn't like that anymore, his feelings had changed too.

He almost laughed aloud, maybe he should do to her exactly as she had to him, get pissed and then tell her. Come morning he could forget, just as she had, and that would settle the issue. Then they'd both be in the same boat, both knowing, and both not doing anything about it.

His fingers idly spun the ring on his thumb. It was a birthday gift from his Mom, his twenty-first, as he recalled. He smiled slowly, he missed her so much, the years had flown by since she passed away, where had they all gone? Dad was still there, hanging around the siblings, looking after grand-kids, having a hoot of a time. He never wanted for much and loved the life he had. After Eva he never remarried. He had his kids to bring up, so he did, alone.

Blue eyes lifted to the grey sky above. Seabirds swooped and sailed on the stormy winds that touched a thousand treetops. A heavy gust whipped up the white-horse water further across the lake, the tide seen as a herd of smaller angry ponies trying to reclaim the land. In that spot Charlie had peace. Even though the rain trickled and the clouds rolled, it still held an inviting warmth, it was close and felt comfortable, his surroundings opening up to welcome him in.

Tilly heard the voice carrying out across the water, the gentle notes reminding her of a moment in her past. She knew that song. She'd cried listening to that song because it was her song, written about her. Those lyrics had a spot inside, one that held all her loss and sadness, the one part no one ever saw. She tried standing to walk away, back through the trees, back to the house. There was no standing, there was no moving, she was frozen there, unable to break the spell that had been cast upon her.

And so he sang.

'... I nearly did a thousand times but never made that call ... It was more than just a feeling, which I realised in the fall ... When I think about it, you're the answer to it all ...'

Charlie's voice rose, high and out across the lake, to be heard by the seabirds and the boats in the distance.

'... You filled in all the spaces as we partied through the night ... Then you said you loved me and set my world alight ... And I never would have guessed that I'd soon be back for more.'

The message lay in those lyrics, the ones he lamented to a lonely lakeside, the small cove, the distant birds, the biting fish and all that falling rain. He didn't see them, he saw himself singing it to the one who didn't want to be the one. None of it mattered, not really. What mattered was she was still in his life, for the moment anyway, and she wouldn't be leaving for a while, hopefully.

'... Now you've gone too far, and I can't let you go ... I found you there inside of me and I should let you know ... Now it's gone too far, we could win for sure ... This is how you make me feel, so love me like before ... Please come back for more ...'

Fine spray settled over the female form, sat on her lonesome log, her eyes cast to the figure some fifty feet away. A tear had welled up and was sat on her lower lid, when she blinked it trickled down her cheek. She knew it was going to happen. It had burnt as it built, from not having shed one in years, her hard shell enough to stop that sort of thing from happening. There was just that one, not another to match from the other eye, that's all that was left after all those years, that one drop.

Emotions had always been a danger in Tilly's eyes. Having any form of emotion could sometimes lead to the most ferocious of all of them, sadness, and she never wanted that in her life, so she lived a numb existence. To not feel is to not hurt, easy. She let the laughter and smiles in but seldom had room for any crying. With her mind constantly trapped in the world of a fictitious love affair there was little time to be unhappy. All Cinderella stories had to have a happy ending, and Tilly was determined to have her's in the end too.

With a deep sigh she found her feet once more. They were at the end of legs again, and not housed in heavy concrete blocks. Her beloved high-tops were as light as air as she sprung up from her tree seat. Damp hung and clung, the droplets hovering in the light breeze, a mist to lift and swirl with the turn of the tide.

To stay there and live out a life would be a truly beautiful existence, Tilly decided. Have a cabin built there, to watch the season's change, the storms to creep and curdle. Then there are all the colours to be seen, the scent flavouring the air, the atmosphere, the seeing it alive to flourish. She dragged in a lungful of that taste through her nose, held it there feeling the cold become warm, and then she gave it back as one long exhaled breath.

She hadn't been there, and then she was. Charlie thought he was dreaming, or maybe he was going nuts. His voice faded away, that last word hanging in the moisture laden air along with the low mist.

When she turned, her face as sad as the day and just as grey, a chill carved its way into him, his cold hands lifting to his armpits. There was a strange feeling taking over. It was blooming inside him as Tilly made to leave him on the beach. That was the sensation, loneliness, and he didn't like it much, okay, not at all.

'... TILLY ...' he shouted, his voice a one note affair.

She stopped and turned his way, her face seeming younger as grey strands of hair broke loose in the cross wind. They were caught and tucked behind an ear. He loved that action, especially when she did it and smiled his way.

'CHARLIE,' she called back, 'I'm sorry ... I didn't want to disturb you, just wanted to make sure you were okay ...'

He made his way towards her in the lessening rain. It had returned to low cloud, the far side of the lake lost within it.

'You're not disturbing me ... I didn't even hear you so how can you be disturbing me?' he asked, looking at her sad smile.

He looked again. Had she been crying?

'Well,' she grinned, 'I thought I'd said something to annoy you actually, especially when you left the house like that ... So I came after you, to say sorry more than anything ... I stayed back to give you some space and was just about to leave ... You seemed deep in thought and I didn't want to break the chain ...'

That's what Charlie also loved about the woman. He loved that she cared and thought about him. Apart from his family, she seemed to be the only one who did that, and he loved her for that too. With all the other women, including the ex-wife, more so with the younger ones, it was usually all about the lifestyle, the money and the cars. Tilly didn't see any of that, she saw him and she focused on him and who he was. None of the glitz and glamour enamoured her, it never had. In the time he'd watched her grow into her L.A. ways, Tilly never lost that humble girl next door thing. Even with a name that was slowly growing, and a face that was being noticed, her roots remained firmly imbedded in the ground. To dear old Charlie that was pretty amazing too, but it never got him anywhere knowing it.

Even stood there with her, like that, he couldn't say it, he just couldn't. A million things all rushed through his head at once and all of it was utter junk. Okay, he could be a bit forthright sometimes, outspoken even, a real shit at his worst. Charlie found he was lost for words, and that freaked him out more than anything. Inside, that strange feeling grew a little stronger, and it was that feeling of losing something important.

'Hey, Till, you're okay ... And thanks for giving a shit,' fell from his lips, and he meant it, it was a nicer feeling than the cold she was slowly dispelling.

'Look at you, you're freezing, let's get you home and warmed up, you'll catch your death from this,' she grinned with water dripping from her hood.

She looked so small and tired, stood there in her red coat. Linking her arm through his, she turned them towards the house.

'Hot bath, a hot chocolate, and bed for you I think, young man ... I'll not have a guest of mine going down with some horrid lurgy, it hardly makes for a relaxing break away, does it?' she chuckled as they headed for the path in the trees.

He had to ask.

'So, you heard me then, singing to the lake? ... You must think I'm nuts,' he half grinned, his eyes looking to the debris scattered ground.

Tilly squeezed his arm in her's.

'No, I don't think you're nuts,' she softly replied. 'I think ...'

She stopped speaking as she glanced off into the regimented lines of wet wood. Listening to the sound the rain made on her hood, she smiled. She liked that sound. It had a nice beat to it.

'What's up?' he asked, looking at the side of her turned face, his eagerness for an answer audible in his desperate delivery.

Her face turned, her features softened by the thoughts in her head and the feelings kept tucked away inside.

'Well ... The way I see it, and the way you sing it ... Whoever she is, Charlie, you have to tell her, and you have to tell her soon,' she smiled up at him.

'Yeah,' Charlie softly replied, sucking his upper teeth. 'I'll do it, soon ... I promise,' he lied.

### ~

As he knew she would, Tilly left for London, her job done and dusted, her time in L.A. over. Devastation doesn't run a mile when a heart is on the line, Charlie also knew that too. It rested within as if a ball of tiny pins, pricking and prodding, a continuous plague swirling and attacking from the inside. Drinking didn't help, drugs helped a bit, the new blonde on the scene sort of crushed it, but none of it was enough, not for Charlie.

Dev saw it coming. Charlie and his bender had courted the evening before shagging it over the bar for everyone to see. There was a moment when he had his tongue down Kiah Conneti's throat and Dev thought the girl might choke. The couple then disappeared for about an hour before reappearing, floored and out of breath. Charlie had certainly shagged something.

The club was at fever pitch, the pumping sounds enough to get the crowd up and bouncing to the beat. Lights and lasers flashed at sonic speed, the flicker jumping across the room of heaving bodies. A wave of people hit the floor then spilled into walkways and hovered at the bar in packs. It was a good night, it was a night to let it go, and it was about to get a little more exciting.

Dev knew as soon as one chick was dropped Charlie would be requiring another. They would come to form a constant stream, lining up, awaiting their moment to give a famous bloke a blow-job. It was always the same with Charlie. Dev didn't envy him though. Charlie would learn, but first he had to make his own mistakes, just like he had to with the wife that didn't last. There was just no pleasing some people, Dev knew, and Charlie was one of those people. When it was there, right in front of him, he couldn't see it. Dev could and then wondered why Charlie was such a numb skull sometimes, but that was Charlie for you, always seeing the cover, never wanting to read the actual story.

It started in the corner, the argument. Charlie had approached a young lady, sat on her own. She had rebuffed him so he tried again. When the beefy boyfriend returned from the gents it really fired up the old engines. Charlie was looking for a fight and he'd just found one.

Dev stood back to watch, letting Charlie have his moment. When his right hand came up to point at the guy, Dev knew he had to act. Moving through the crowd, to join Charlie before a fist was thrown, he managed to veer his pissed friend away, in the direction of the exit to the rear, with a rather hurried apology.

Charlie almost fell out into the dirty alleyway that ran the length of the block. Rubbish piled and spilled from garbage cans, the smell still pungent even though the sun was long gone beyond the lie of the land

'Don't you fuckin,' he tried to protest, stumbling to one side, his anger now swung round onto the oldest friend he had walking the earth. 'It was none of your fuckin business, Dev, you got no right to do that,' Charlie churned out in gusts, trying to stay upright and to focus, but not.

'I got every fuckin right to do that, I'm your God damn security, for Christ's sake ... Man, ya don't see it, do ya?' Dev burst out. 'You just keep on going, being a shit, acting the child, causing the same old crap ... When you gonna grow up? ... We ain't kids no more, Charlie, we're grown men ... So ... When the hell you gonna start being one? ... Lordy, Momma, boy, get a grip ...'

Charlie moved to set a swing in motion. It was rather slow and caught by Dev as soon as it was pathetically deployed. His fist was held high for both to see, a sad place for both to be.

'So, that's your answer then ... Taking a swing at me ... Look at yourself, Charlie, you're screwed, you drowning in whatever it is that's eating you up like this ... Sort it out, dude, cuz this shit is killing me,' he chided, pushing Charlie away, across the alley and up against the far wall.

All Charlie saw was a red mist with a face hovering within it. He headed towards it again, his intent evident on his pissed face.

'Don't make me hit you, Charlie, cuz ya know I will if I have to ... I did before, remember, and remember how it hurt and ya didn't like it much ... CHARLIE ... PLEASE ...'

Dev spoke as his friend headed for him again. It was too much, it had to be stopped.

As Charlie reached his point of no return he suddenly ground to a wobbly halt and looked at his friend. All colour drained from his face as he tried to remember what it was he was going to do, and where was he again? He spoke as his eyes dropped to the spot by his feet.

'Hit me, Dev, please, and knock some God damn sense into me ...'

So Dev did, clocking him one right on the jaw, hard enough to drop him on his arse but not hard enough to do any damage.

'Was that hard enough for ya?' Dev questioned, looking down at his friend, sat in the muck and detritus of a stinking alleyway.

A kind hand extended to draw his old pal to his feet.

Charlie rose, rubbing his jaw, as the fog of madness cleared and the light finally broke through. That was what he'd needed, knocking on his arse.

'Yeah, that was hard enough ... Thank you, Dev, you did it again ... Saved the devil from a path of confusion,' he chuckled.

'What's going on with you, Chaz, you ain't been right for months? Don't you wanna be in the band anymore, is that it?' Dev asked, as he took his smokes from his jacket pocket and calm was restored for a few seconds.

'Shit, Dev, it ain't about the band ... IT'S HER ... It's always been about her, the girls, the drinking, the weed, even the God damn music ... I wanted it not to be, but it is ... And SHE started it, with her accent and her eyes being that colour to carry me away like that ... I blame her, Dev, she did it ... I blame HER,' Charlie burst out, pointing in the vague direction of some rented apartments.

Dev didn't have a clue who he was ranting about, as he handed Charlie a smoke and lit his own. He watched and listened, trying to be the best friend he could be. Lord, it could be concerning one of a hundred women, but the bit about the accent. Was he talking about that cute Russian model he met last month in Bailey's?

Charlie was animated all of a sudden, marching around in the dim light, kicking at crap on the floor as the words came in a tide, his unlit smoke used as a pointing device but never lit. Dev watched and listened, still propped against the bin behind him. How long had Charlie been harbouring what he was spilling out? Plus, who the hell was he talking about?

'... That's when she did it, Dev ... After I'd let her into my world and my party palace ... Oh, yeah, drew me real tight, she did, right up close even ... Then she whispered it to me, in that pissed way of her's ... What do I say to that? ... What is there to say to that?'

Charlie turned around to face the only other person listening to his confession. Apart from Charlie losing his will to live little else was heard, except the family of rats on the corner of 51st and 3rd.

Dev's arms crossed before him as he asked, 'Say to what, Chaz?'

'... Charlie, you big silly, I do love you ... I hope it stays like this forever,' the pissed guy returned with the biggest grin Dev had ever seen on his stupid face. As he spoke he sort of rested forward, his shoulders dropping so his whole demeanour changed somehow.

Dev smiled over at his bumbling friend, his finished cigarette flicked to a corner. He knew the turmoil happening in that alcohol soaked brain of his. When Charlie had a thing for a woman it would take control as if his balls ruled his entire body. Shaking his head, he continued.

'First ... You got the name wrong, I'm Dev, if you can remember that through your pissed fog, and I love you too, bro ...'

He paused for effect because he liked that he could drag it out.

'Secondly, the Russian stick insect you're wet-dreaming over is leaving in a week, and after Milan she's on her way home ... If you're gonna do it, do it before she chips, man ... You won't get a second try with her, she's like a jewel in the God damn Russian crown ...'

'It ain't her, Dev, it ain't Alyona ... It's her,' Charlie almost dribbled, his face turning away into the gloom again.

Dev's eyebrows rose as he realised the state of the whole sad affair, and he meant sad. Charlie had fallen for the last person on earth he should have fallen for. He ached for his friend.

'Dude,' he chuckled, 'I told you not to get involved with the English Rose, so, you went and got involved with the English Rose ... Man, you're more dense than the mattress you sleep on ... What part didn't you hear, the bit when I said, don't get involved with the English Rose?'

Dev was amazed, his choice of words proving that.

'I'm not involved, Dev, that's the problem, she's stepped so far back she's home already ... I never saw her enough to get involved ... We've spoken about five times since she left ... We had the break at the lake but it was just friends, even had our own rooms, and it was nice, like when she was at my place, only different,' he babbled, trying to relive the moment, but failing somehow.

'Charlie, stop and listen to yourself, dude ... You sound crazy in the head ... This ain't like you, you don't let women get under your skin like this ... She was just a fad, Chaz-man, same as the dancer and that other girl from Head Office ... You'll get over it, you will, I promise ... Another will appear tomorrow and all this will be history ... Give it a week or two and you'll be fine again, just like the old you, playing the field and making time for all them pretty ladies ...'

Dev was trying to be the friend he thought Charlie needed, but Charlie needed something more. Dev knew what it was, but Charlie couldn't have it, and that bugged Charlie more than anything.

Leaning against the large trash container, Charlie looked over at his friend.

'Dev, I want her, but I can't have her ...'

'Jesus, they don't come much dumber than you're being right now, do ya know that?' Dev chuckled, standing to head back into the club. 'My advice to you, my friend, is ... Stop being such a prick and get ya shit together ... You two ain't got no future, you live here and she lives over there ... How's it ever gonna work? Think about it for a moment, Chaz-man, perusing it any further will be madness and a big let-down for you ... It's coming and you know it, bro, don't do it to yourself, you're worth more than that ... You're Chaz-man, and you kick Rock and Roll's ass ...'

Charlie tossed and rolled, grumped and huffed, but he wasn't going to sleep. The journey home had sobered him up. As he fell between the sheets, in a funny sort of mood, he wasn't straight and he wasn't stoned, so no way could he rest. Dev was probably right when he said what he said in the club alleyway. He could remember most of it, lying there, pretending to sleep. As the dawn filtered a low glow across a dark sky, Charlie felt that one feeling he hated. It was sorrow.

Ripping his back from the hot sheets he stormed to the bar. Pulling the bourbon from its shelf, he half-filled a tumbler, over ice, before absorbing the lonely silence and the stale undisturbed air.

In the gloom he headed for the couch in the den. He dropped like a stone, hard, into the centre of the cold leather. His thighs slowly brought it up to temperature. In an uncomfortable silence he sat, longing to hear that voice from down his hallway. His face turned to the sound trapped in his memory, his eyes putting her form there to move in that way.

'... Clive's having the do back at his ... Said we should meet him there, he has some interviews lined up ... I managed to wriggle out of mine, same as you, but I'm up for a party if you are ...'

Charlie had watched her walk from her room, putting her earring in, wearing that amazing dress that she didn't think she looked so great it. Boy was she stunning, and she didn't even see that. That's not how she saw herself, she saw herself as okay. Somehow, that night, those words were way off mark. She looked amazing.

He wanted that moment to run again, with her in a spotlight, in that dress, wearing those shoes, as her dark hair fell in soft ringlets. There was an ache, a yearning to hear that voice, that accent, and it could have driven him crazy at five in the morning. It didn't, it made him cry instead. Great big sobs, as though the love of his life had been snatched from his arms, his heart breaking for that which had not yet been captured.

Lifting from his seat, the glass was thrown at the wall. Hoping the collision would somehow make it happen all over again, he screamed her name into the darkened space, from where no one asked a question about a party. His sadness rained down in sheets.

'TILLY ... TILLY ... TILLY ...'

Her name was shouted, over and over, the weight of it taking him to his knees in the den. Her ghost ambled passed, her skirt to brush and caress. He cupped his hands to gather it up, but nothing was pressed to his lips to kiss, the gown had gone.

Cold hands ran up and over a wet cheeked face, fingers lingered in hair, curling into the roots, the strands clawed into whitening digits. No answer came, no running and holding, no soft words of sympathy and understanding, there was nothing and no one. The loneliness bore down and clamped a greedy hand around Charlie's stuttering heart. Missing her was ripping him in half and leaving just an empty shell. She was the piece he couldn't find to make himself whole, and there she was, tallying on the side-lines, being everything he ever wanted, but just not being with him.

### Part 3

Back For More

The nominations were in and Clive kept her updated as the news rolled out. When she answered her mobile, at the break of dawn, he nearly exploded. She had to get her ass back to L.A., pronto, no arguing, the ticket had already been booked for her, she was to be packed and ready in three days.

Tilly had done it. Her silly love story had become a box office hit, as Clive had said, which had led to seven Oscar nominations. The three that involved her were Best Screenplay, Best Original Story and Best Movie Soundtrack. As a wave of emotion lifted Tilly from her mattress, her screams of excitement burst from her. All her dreams had fallen into place.

She hated living in London, she missed the ocean. The weather was awful in England, and it was gorgeous on the coast. While Tilly was wearing three layers, they were still walking around in vests and shorts. Looking at the grey world beyond her window, Clive didn't have to try too hard to persuade her, not really, it was a given she'd be going. The Oscars! Try stopping her.

On the night before she left one thought burnt a hole into her head, Charlie Kerman. She wondered how he was, she hadn't heard from him in weeks. Clive had mentioned he was doing okay, thanked her for not getting involved, and then went on to say Charlie was missing her like hell.

She missed him too, had done all the time she was back in England. Seeing them play, live, at the O2 was a strange affair. Attending with a friend, so the tickets weren't in her name, she'd watched him from the side seats, a heart stopping moment, him so near yet so far away.

They would have to climb the stage together if they won. If the Judges thought it the best of the best, then they would. As partners to some of the most romantic rock music ever composed, they stood a good chance, Tilly knew that. So, how would that moment feel? How would he react if they won?

In that moment it occurred to her that Clive must have had the same conversation with Charlie as he'd had with her, the news to be broadcasted for the whole band to hear. Good old Charlie, he'd done it again, another music award, and only an Oscar, for doing what he did best, write and produce excellent music.

Arh, but, it wasn't just about the incidental music they wrote together, her humming, him strumming, it was beautiful, and just enough to make the hardest of eyes soften a little. What was on everyone's lips was the closing number, the track that shut the film down. That was the one that had them all wanting the album. That love song, which put a chill down arms and legs, that watered eyes and stuck in your head, it did that because of the lyrics. They were what made it memorable, and it was all inside Tilly, all of it, right down to the tune.

Charlie had been right, she never needed him for the music really, but she wanted his voice and sound. Without those it wouldn't have made the grade, not her's anyway. That grittiness, with every turn of the beat, that was his voice carrying her away, and only he could do that, only Charlie.

When he'd first sung it, roughly, as they worked over in Clive's studio, she knew she was right. The tide washed over her and she saw the credits rolling and felt the sorrow of the tale just told. Without Charlie there would have been no soundtrack, he was the element to breathe life into it.

Dev walked into the studio behind Charlie, the door slowly closing behind him. His friend had been in a funny mood all day, Dev had noticed, and when Charlie blanked the two cute babes in the convertible, Dev decided there was something quite serious going on inside Charlie's head.

'Hey, Chaz-Man, you want a smoke?' he asked as he passed him to sit by the office door.

Charlie had a hundred things to do but, on a Saturday, he really didn't feel like doing anything. It was a warm day, muggy in the studio, the air-conditioning unit purred away but it hardly touched the ground, the atmosphere so thick.

'Urh, yeah, go on then ... Only do me a two wrap ... I don't want a massive smoke, thanks,' Charlie replied, moving around the room looking for something.

Dev had to ask, 'What ya lost, dude?' Anything I can help ya with?'

Charlie looked behind a screen in the corner.

'Nah, it's cool ... Found it,' he replied, walking back to sit down with a blue acoustic.

Charlie played as Dev rolled. It was passed over when finished, and both lit where they sat. Suddenly the atmosphere changed and Charlie was home again.

'This Oscar thing ... You gonna be available for it, or do I need to ring Cole?' Charlie asked, with the joint caught between his perfect teeth as he spoke, his blue eyes lifting from his fingers to look over at Dev.

'Yeah, I reckon I might be available for an evening of checking out some of the hottest women in the district ... What d'ya reckon to my chances with Jen? Maybe I could score if I got her wasted enough on Champagne and brandy?' he chuckled through his exhaled cloud.

Charlie smiled over at him. 'Man, you don't stand a chance with Jen ... She's a lady, you're a tramp, it'll never work,' he chuckled.

'It did for Disney,' Dev sniggered.

'Yeah, you're right, but she sure ain't no cartoon dog, Dev ... Whereas you could be mistaken for one on a dark night after fifteen bottles of beer ... But that's why I love you, man ... And it's not because you can lick your own balls,' he laughed.

Dev looked over at him. 'Hey, who told you I could lick my own balls?' he smiled, though it was trying not to be seen.

'No one told me, I've known it for years ... That's why you walk funny in the morning ... It's okay, dude ... Your secret's safe with me,' Charlie sniggered in return.

Dev chuckled, 'Man, you talk some shit sometimes ... But I do wish I could lick my balls, it'd save a fortune in trips to the strips ... Fifty bucks she robbed me of last time, and I'm still not convinced she was a woman ... Do women have hairy knuckles and deep voices like us? ... And the size of her...'

'I don't want to know, you sick shit ... What you do in your own time is none of my business, and I'd like to keep it that way, if you don't mind,' Charlie butted in, not wanting to hear anymore.

Silence as the joints where put to quiet use, the smoke rising to be filtered before recycled.

'Hey ... Guess the English Rose will be making an appearance ... Wonder when she'll be coming back over ... Clive must have told her by now,' Dev muttered, his face relaxed and his dark eyes sparkling.

Charlie stopped to put his joint down in the ashtray beside Dev. He didn't smile as he replied, his eyes going back to his strings.

'She's here already ... Got here weeks ago ... I thought you knew everything about everyone ... Guess you missed that one ...'

Charlie didn't look up.

'What? And you knew and kept it to yourself? Chaz-man, come on, this is big stuff, you have to share shit like that, it's important ... Wow, weeks already ... So,' he fished, 'where's she staying? Tom's again?'

'Don't know, don't care, ask Clive ... Also, none of my business,' came his single tone sentence, said and done.

'Oh, okay ... I'll do that then ... Seeing as you have no idea about where that woman, the one you've been talking about for months, the one that still wakes you at night, even though she's five thousand miles away ... That woman ... The one that is probably saying the same things about you as you've just said about her, is staying ... Jeez, you're dumber than a dumpster ... And I don't believe you don't know,' Dev laughed, finishing his smoke and rolling two more.

'The Fairmont Hotel ... That's where she was ... Leanne told me yesterday, she saw her with her new crew, they'd just arrived ... She's rented a house, so I hear, but it's not ready yet ...'

Charlie's face didn't lift as he talked over the melody from the movie. He loved that part. It was used for the argument scene. It had come to be from Tilly hearing an advert on the radio. Next thing Charlie knew she was humming it at him in the same way she had all the others. He still couldn't understand why she didn't just work it out for herself. She could have, seeing as she was a far better player than him.

'I knew you knew ... You had to ... Wow, so, it has to be Tom's then?' Dev smiled, digging a little more, try as he might.

'Nah, not Tom's ... It was sold last fall ... When I head out to Bella's you can see the place lit up like a fairground, someone's there ... Don't know who though ...'

Again Charlie didn't falter, his fingers breaking down the melody and then turning it into something else, just like Tilly had all those months before with that advert jingle.

'Okay ... So, someone must know where she's hiding ... I'll ring Jose, he works for The Herald, he'll point us in the right direction, he knows everything happening around here, he always has,' Dev grinned as he lit up again.

Charlie followed suit. 'Well, don't tell me, I don't wanna know ... That's it for me, I'm done ... Time to move on.'

'Yeah, you say that now,' Dev replied, 'wait till you see her again ... It'll be like it was before, I just know it ... And I know you ... That woman it ground into your skin ... You ain't gonna get rid of her, dude, no matter how hard you scrub ... Too late, you're inked ... You were back then and you are now ... So, don't deny it cuz I know ... I know you are,' he chuckled.

The playing suddenly stopped and Charlie's head turned so he faced Dev, his old friend, his old pal.

'I aughta slap you for saying that ... That hurt, Dev ... I thought you knew me better than that ... She's long gone in my dust, dude ... Bella is the babe, she looks after old Chaz-man, my friend .. Oh, yeah ... Now that's what I'm talking about,' Charlie laughed in reply, his blue eyes wrinkling with his devilish grin.

'Have you looked in the mirror lately, you damn liar? ... Chaz-man, your light dimmed the moment that woman left this country, there ain't a day gone by that you haven't mentioned her name ... So, you go play your little games with your girlfriends, but you can't lie that good and mean it, not to me ... Say what you want, I see what I see, I hear what I hear, and I gotta say it ... Bro, do yourself a favour and find her ... The words burn as they come up, but, she's made for you ... So what if she's seven years older, or that she ain't a busty blonde, or a pretty chick who looks great bent over your Bentley, who cares ... If you love her, tell her ... Don't waste it, the time, cuz it won't wait on you, my friend ...'

When Dev stopped speaking, Charlie's stopped playing. The guitar was placed on a stand, and Charlie's eyes came round to rest on the man sat across from him. He chuckled to himself before he spoke.

'Dev, Dev, Dev, you dopey douche-bag,' he chuckled, standing to move towards the exit, 'sometimes you get it all wrong ... I don't love her, I don't miss her, and I sure as hell don't care about where she is ...'

Dev lifted to follow, asking, 'We going over to C.K's now or after we see Seth?'

'After we see Seth ... Because she means nothing to me, Dev ... Too much time has caused a memory lapse, I can't even remember what she looks like,' Charlie chuckled as he walked through the door heading for his car.

Dev tagged along, the sunlight still warm even though it was growing late in the day.

'So, will you be dragging Bella along with ya? Show her how the grownups do it?'

Charlie laughed over the top of his car, 'Hell, no ... You never know who I might run into ... I need to be free to roam, man ... I can't have no chick getting in the way of all that looking ... Nah, she's back in Vancouver for three weeks while that's all happening ... Grab a hold of your balls, baby, we is gonna set the night on fire ...'

They got in, pulled away, and drove all the way to Seth's place counting the famous totty that would be attending. The list was very long and glamorous, so a few were mentioned twice because of it. Dev had his dance-card filled already, as did Charlie. Dev wanted to work the room, and Charlie said much the same. Only, there was another thought that Charlie kept all to himself, and it was all to do with the woman he didn't love, didn't miss and, laughing aloud, didn't give a damn about where she was.

### ~

The tension hung in the room, it did for them all. Beverley Hallows, the young film star, had held the golden card in her shaking hand, her fingers trembling with the excitement of being the first to know.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' she smiled at all those famous faces, 'the Oscar for Best Movie Soundtrack goes to ...'

The pause was her way of making sure she wouldn't get it wrong in any way, and she loved that film, she thought it was a wonderful love story.

'... Tilly Stiller and Charlie Kerman for the soundtrack to ...'

No one heard the rest, the crowd where going crazy as the love theme tripped in over her talking. Two shadows were seen in the gloom, lifting from different places in the space before her, to make their way to join her on the stage.

Beverley loved that song, the words so perfect for such a wonderful tale of love, found then lost. The palms of her hands stung as the couple climbed the steps together. Tilly reached her across the stage first, Charlie close behind.

The golden men were handed over, one to each, the congratulations and kisses exchanged with the shaking of hands. As the music changed to the instrumental, the strings tripped them through what was a scene of love and laughter. The adulation rose to fill that large room with a warmth Tilly had never felt before. They'd reached a new height and were standing up there, doing it, under the lights and on TV, live.

In that second Tilly had one thought and one thought only. Her speech was in her clutch bag sat on the table with Clive. It seemed rude to walk to the edge of the stage and ask for it, so she had to get busy coming up with something new.

Insisting Charlie go first with his thanks, she stepped back and tried to go over that scrap of paper, her eyes closed, as if it would help. It didn't, not with the music pumping and Charlie doing his bit. He covered all the people that were involved technically, so she didn't have to worry about them, but would try to remember them all anyway, if not by name. Having listened to so many speeches she knew one thing. As her Dad used to say, KISS, keep it simple, stupid. That was the last thing hidden in the dark as Charlie finished and stepped back. Her turn, oh, Lordy, Momma.

'Well ... Good evening,' she smiled. '... So ... Looks like I've done something right then ...'

A ripple of laughter trickled through the crowd.

She sounded rather posh, stood up there, trying to imagine them all naked, but she couldn't do it. Her sharp intake of air was heard by Charlie, he brushed her arm in support, just so she knew he was there. It helped more than he realised.

'... The first was bringing Charlie Kerman, and his team, in to help write and produce not just the soundtrack but the whole album too ... Secondly, my thanks to Clive and Patsy, and their crew, for believing in my impossible dream ... Without their help and guidance the project would never have taken off ... And lastly, for My Dad, who sadly isn't with us anymore ... I thank him for letting me dream, and for letting me believe in that dream ... I wish he was here for this, but, in a way, he kinda is ... This is amazing ... You don't know what this means, not just to me, but everyone that worked on the project with me, and I thank them for their time and dedication, you guys rock ... And that's it ... Thank you, everyone ... Goodnight, and enjoy,' she grinned, turning to walk to the exit at the side of the stage.

As soon as they were in the gloom again, Charlie caught her arm as if he were pulling her back from the edge of a cliff. She almost spun on the spot from the force of it. Was he angry?

His arms lifted her to crush her to him, his award hanging from a hand.

'Christ, it's so good to see you ... Look at you, you look so well, and so brown ... Been away on holiday?' he asked, talking as though she'd only been away a few weeks, not months. Had Charlie missed her?

Tilly stepped back as the next set of nominations were being read, they didn't hear the five up with a winning shot. They took little notice.

'... Charlie, yeah, I'm good, just got back from Mexico, thought I'd grab a quick break, it's been murder for the last few months with all the interviews everywhere ... Wow, you're looking good ... Still a handsome devil I see, have you still got them on the run?' she chuckled.

They were gently ushered away into a lounge for a celebration drink with some more strangers of importance. More hand shaking happened, and more smiling for some more photos, then they mingled and chatted, the time passing quickly.

'Look, there's a party after this, you in?' he asked with a grin. 'It's round at James Terrell's place, there's a few of us going ... It's that or a club ... At his place we can smoke our own, not theirs, if you get me,' he winked.

She got him. Tilly smiled a secret smile, the one kept for when thinking about a little joint burning bright.

'Catch me later, I'm with Clive and Cath ... No doubt Cath will moan him into submission again and they'll leave before she turns into a pumpkin at midnight,' she sniggered. 'I love the woman but sometimes she's, I don't know ...'

'It's because she's a quiet person, not in your face, but in the background, that's all ... Some call it frustrating, I call it not being pushy,' he replied in her defence.

'Okay ... Not pushy, I'll go with that ... But all the same,' she grinned, 'I like my company to have a little more life in it ... I ain't dead yet, Charlie ... The company I keep has to keep up ... I get sick of being the last one to bed ... And it's always the same with Clive and Cath ... They're usually in asleep by ten ... I know this, I stayed there, remember!' she said, as if confirming it.

'So, come with us then ... Drop them, when they go, and tag along with me ... It'll be fun ... James has a hot tub ...'

Charlie put his empty glass on the bar as he spoke, his fingers coming up to spin his thumb ring three times. There she was, as stunning as ever, and slimmer too, in her elegant, floor length, black gown, and looking rather tall in her fancy designer heels.

'Yeah, okay, let me see what happens ... I still have your mobile number, has it changed?' she asked, following to the bar with her glass, empty as usual.

'No, it hasn't changed ... It's the same as before ... Drop me a text and find out where we are ... I can send a car for you if you need one ... There'll be a few available, so don't worry about transport,' he smiled in a way she would never forget, stood there, with that all happening just beyond the wall.

'Fine, drop you a text, will do,' she replied, following him back out into the noise and the party.

No sooner had they parted at the cross roads her name was announced again and the whole room erupted with the chaos heard when a winner is revealed.

Tilly looked back at Charlie as he looked at her. She shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what the uproar was all about. Charlie's index finger rose to point at the big screen on the huge stage. The projected words were bigger than them both.

Winner of Best Original Story had the name Tilly Stiller in huge letters below it. It was defiantly her, as the people rose to congratulate her where she stood.

'Well, Tilly Stiller, even more reason to party, wouldn't you say?' Charlie laughed, as Tilly was guided towards the stage by Clive, to receive yet another golden man and make yet another KISS speech.

The evening had been a sumptuous affair, everyone celebrated at the awards after-party, the Champagne flowed and the smiles beamed. The paparazzi had a whole catalogue of famous faces to capture, the Press a swarm at every entrance and exit to The Grand Palace Hotel in downtown L.A. The stretched limos were a constant cavalcade along the fluorescent strip and the buzz was felt all the way to the bay.

Clive and Cath escorted Tilly, as they promised they would, and they were glad they did. It was wall to wall alcohol, the glasses filled as soon as seen empty. They wafted about and stopped to speak, shaking hands as if old friends. Some sat to talk awhile, some soon moved on. The glitterati were in full swing that night, big carats included.

Clive watched everything. He had to, and never forgot to be at Tilly's side, even for the celebrity shoot by the tall golden statues, with the three new men in her life included. He couldn't risk leaving her, why, because she was very, very drunk.

Tilly had become a big drinker. Usually she wasn't big into anything, except maybe rolling her smokes or writing her books, but drinking, she loved it. In her college days she chilled with the ale sinkers. She didn't care about the three hours throwing up, or the hornet of a hangover for a week. Drinking was just another way to temporarily escape, and she was always looking for a new one of them. She'd tried smoking pot too. It was okay, it made her laugh a lot, but then she'd fall asleep, missing the rest of the fun.

So far, she was doing okay, the drinks flowed alongside lots of silly banter, everyone was being a real lovey-darling, and as the night wore on, Tilly enjoyed herself even more.

Clive and Cath had to leave, offering to take her and her three golden men home. Tilly declined, but accepted on behalf of the little guys. She handed them over as she rose to kiss Clive and Cath goodnight. Laughing about being a top notch Brit in top notch Tinsel Town, she staggered off towards someone who called her name. She came back briefly, to snatch her clutch bag from the table. Smiling quickly, as they parted, she was then gone again, and probably in more ways than one.

They left her to it, giving Anthony the heads-up on leaving. Tony was top Personal Security, and once told of his new charge, was on the case like a sniffer dog on dope. He didn't crowd, that wasn't his style, he dissuaded, as he put it, directing the human traffic away from the primary subject. He'd tailed Tilly Stiller before, driven for her too, and always found her to be a nice lady. Having a sense of humour always helped, and she certainly had that too, but then, working with Clive Duvall, she'd needed one.

### ~

Her call was made and Tony collected her. Asking to go the long way round, Tilly wanted to take the scenic route, the city lights so pretty when seen through a dropped electric window. The air smelt of a hundred different foods, the people ambled and chatted in groups or couples, hands were shaken, arguments settled, and young thugs arrested. It was a whirlwind of life being lived, and it never stopped, not ever.

James's house was very Modern Hollywood, Tilly would have said. There were a few new builds on the hill below the Hollywood sign, and that house was one. He was very proud of the open plan effect, and all the gadgets that came with that. Artwork adorned the walls, some done by him, and an array of odd sculptures haunted empty corners, some having coats flung over them as if a Butler, just waiting there to please.

James and Tilly met, for the first time, stood in his hall. He was more than happy to welcome the English Rose into his home, her name an instant spark lighting his eyes.

'Oh, my, God, it's Tilly Stiller, everyone ... Tilly Stiller is here, at my party, and not at Jeff's, that's so awesome,' he laughed over his shoulder into the crowd.

A few heads turned to smile. Then it was just them again.

'Wow, congratulations on tonight ... Three, first time out, nicely done, I'm impressed,' he smiled, his eyes all happy and twinkly. 'It's a pleasure to finally meet you, no, it's an honour, really, and I love your writing, read the book last month, haven't seen the movie yet, but will, or course ... Very sad story,' he looked down, in a sad way, his hand lifting to his jaw. 'But I'm totally there, and some of your cast from the movie are here too, mingling,' he continued, his gloom over and back in party mode. 'You should catch up with them, say hi and stuff ...'

'I will, and James, I love the work you've done with Seth, it's so funny, my sense of humour, definitely ... Is he here? I was hoping to catch up,' Tilly asked, her eyes sweeping the room for those she knew.

'Why, thank you, I'm honoured, yet again,' he gestured, his arm coming up so his hand could rest over his heart. 'And, yeah, Seth's here ... He's out back, in the garden, with Simon, Nick and a few others ... Charlie K said you'd be dropping by, he's outback with his crew, they've been here ages ... Look, I'll see ya soon, I gotta go ... Craig walked off with my drink, and I can't have that now, can I?' he grinned.

'No,' she grinned in reply, 'you can't, go get him, cowboy ... And good luck with finding the drink thing,' she smiled, her eyes as bright as solar flares.

'... Hey, Danny's in the kitchen with the weed ... Hurry and you might get some,' he chuckled, turning away and melting into the crowed space.

'Okay, thank you ... I'll start there and work my way round then,' she called, trying to be heard above the loud music and through the scree of bodies he'd vanished into.

Partying in L.A. is like no party anywhere else in the world. They can last for as little as it takes to finish a nice glass of good wine or, in some cases, they can last two days or more. James's were notorious for lasting at least that, as most found out. You could stay or go, up to you. There was always a few milling around, or crashed on couches, talking crap, trying to work out the meaning of life, others drifted, coming down, watching the sunrise and marvelling at the colours the dawn offered over the hills.

Tilly's party had started when Tony dropped her at the door. Sara had seen her first, escorting her to the house, introducing new faces as they went. After meeting James it turned into a whole new journey, one she wasn't quite expecting after winning three golden men. It started out okay, the party, but it wasn't to last, sadly, and that was because of one person.

Into the kitchen she had trotted, still wearing her posh gown, still in heels. They were the first to go as Jay, Danny and she met for the first time. They laughed about her attire and the heels were taken off and thrown in the bin by the backdoor. Tilly broke the ice by making everyone laugh. Her thousand dollar designer court shoes consigned to the trash. They all liked that, Danny especially.

'Well, I like your style, Miss Stiller, you'll fit in just right round here ... Do you partake of the noble weed?' he asked, his eyes a sharp sparkle, his smile beamed and happy.

A newly built one was lifted and offered over the island in her direction. She smiled in a way they all do upon seeing a party for one appear.

'I certainly do ... Light me up, I'm ready for lift off,' she smiled, leaning over to take it. 'There's no hidden extras, it there? Nothing powdery or white?' she asked, taking the Zippo Jay had acquired, then thanking him with a nod and a smile.

'Urh, no ... All this shit is pure green, baby, I don't roll any other way ... The powder heads are in the can upstairs ... You'll see them in the garden, later, sporting white rings around their nostrils ... That's not my scene, it all about the green,' he chuckled, along with several others as they all touched knuckles.

'Cool, sweet ... Just for me then?' she grinned in reply.

Danny smiled. He was rather sweet really.

'Yes, my little English Rose ... All yours, with my love ... Enjoy ...'

So it was lit, inhaled, exhaled, savoured and shared. It was indeed very good weed, Danny was right and, as she stood in the kitchen, in her gown, with them in their sloppy jeans, having a great time making more friends, she found she fitted in for the first time in L.A. She liked the guys in the kitchen, they were funny and she laughed a lot. They were entertained by her too, her accent more than anything, after a few joints and beers anyway.

Danny did try, but sounded Australian, which was funny in its own right, and had her rolling on the counters, tears on her cheeks. Jay did a good one, very cockney, not too South African, and was almost passable. James appeared and nailed it. He was excellent with accents. Tilly fell about, it so suited him too, with his long, mad hair tucked behind his ears, and his trilby plopped on the top, which suited him too somehow.

So, as night charted towards day, and as the inside party paradise continued, it spilled into the huge rear garden, where another twenty happened in small groups, all mixing and crossing paths, the banter a constant stream of fluid conversation. Coloured lights draped from covered seating areas and tall trees, creating a softly lit oasis that rested within the desert of another blue sky dawn. Everyone was having a great time, Tilly included.

Walkways veered off in various directions, to different locations, the pool, garage, tennis courts and so on. These also had fairy lights showing the way through the overhanging foliage, the twinkles as bright as stars.

Tilly took in the lovely morning as she strolled through the quietest section of the rambling garden. It was her last joint and her last drink. All her indulging had been done, most people had left, but still a few loitered. Some were making the most of their slow day, before returning to their usual in your face routine.

That was when she found it, tucked away as if never found before. Tilly followed that tinkling sound, the one that made her heart lift as if a seagull from the white foam of The Channel.

He eyes bounced around the pretty flower beds that were just about to burst back into life. Above her hung a vine, its white petals the colour of freshly fallen snow which scented the air with a wash of warm oranges. Before her sat a small pond, about eight feet across, round, which held a lovely urn fountain set high up in the middle. What heat to the day there had been was instantly vanished away, the temperature dropping as if night had come to call once more.

Four alcoves ringed the high hedges, hidden out of view of anyone else. It was a place to meet a secret lover, to pass a lover letter, to whisper sweet nothings, and to lose one's heart. Fish blew bubbles, the pretty carp hovering in the sheen with the watery sunlight to their backs, the varied colours a rainbow just below the surface.

Tilly took the seat in the alcove that put the most warmth on her face. She sat with her eyes closed, the redness of her lids seen against such a bright light, same as when you hold your hand up to the brightest bulb, you can see right through it. She sat and thought about the last few years, how they had changed her life forever. Time did not wait for anyone, and Tilly wondered just how much she still had left.

'Sorry to interrupt, Miss Stiller, but I've just had a call from Clive ... He wants to see you, in his office, at two this afternoon ... He couldn't reach you on your mobile so he tried mine ... Sorry ...'

Tony spoke from the scented floral archway, holding her coat, his face suggesting he was exactly what he said, sorry.

'Okay, Tony ... Thank you ... Better go home and change then ... I better not turn up in this ... And, please, I keep telling you, call me Tilly,' she chuckled, her eyes popping open to look down at her floor-length attire and then over at him.

She saw Tony smile, he was waiting to take her home. His stance was the same as them all, eyes forward and hands linked at the front.

They talked as they walked, they had always gotten on. Right from the day they met, they had, and they had been friendly for a while. Tilly knew some of his life, and Tony knew some of her's, it happens, especially when you spend time in each other's company, it was going to, it could not be helped.

Laughing about something to do with the night before, they were confronted by what was left of the party, mainly James, Seth, a few others she didn't really know, and Charlie. Some of his crew remained, most had left or were crashed out in a couch someplace, snoring or coming down.

Charlie was not coming down, oh, no, Charlie was tripping the light fantastic, and it showed. Taking up a huge spread of outside seating, he had two blondes draped over him, and he loved it.

Tilly had not seen him since she got there, but had meant to get around to it. As it happens, she was sideswiped by a hundred people because of her amazing achievements, and poor Charlie did not get a look in. For Tilly it seemed a great chance to do just that, but Charlie did not seem in the mood to be last on her list.

Tilly rushed over, leaving Tony to follow, smiling and saying hello as she always did. Those around him rose, whereas he did not. Coming to a happy halt, she gushed about the ceremony as questions were fired her way, all the time glancing down at a quiet Charlie.

'Hey, sorry I didn't find you, it's been manic since I got here,' she smiled down at him, but he did not seem to be listening, as he chatted to the two beauties he almost wore as if a waistcoat, their giggles heard over her words.

'Charlie ... I'm sorry,' Tilly tried again, her voice louder for having to repeat herself over the noise around her.

'What ...?' he snapped, his head lifting, his face all mean.

Tilly was taken aback a little, hurt by the sharp tone.

'I'm sorry I didn't catch up with you ... That was all,' she almost whispered, her eyes dropping to her fidgeting hands.

Tony approached her from behind, remaining a few paces back, staying quiet. There was a way the younger guy had just spat that word out. He did not like it, being disrespectful to a lady, any lady.

'Back off, pretty boy,' Charlie seethed, looking up at Tony. 'If I want to talk to you, I'll talk to you ... Till then, fuck off ... Same as her ...'

Tony moved forward two more paces, his eyes turning to onyx as his lips slowly peeled back over his white teeth.

'Charlie ... Down ...' Dev ordered, trying to cool the patch of embers that glowed beneath the situation.

'So,' he sneered, looking up at a very quiet Tilly, 'is your little boyfriend gonna take you home and tuck you up for the night ... Maybe sing you a little song, or say a little prayer ...'

Tilly was at the point of breaking open, her shock at his assumption enough to make her sarcastic words be launched into the space between them. The fact that people where there, to hear, had nothing to do with it, she was about to leave anyway.

'Actually, you dick,' she barked in the direction of his dropped head, her venomous tears holding back, 'you couldn't have gotten it more wrong if you'd tried ... For someone who makes out he knows it all, you can be seen as a total arse in certain lights, this being one of them ...'

Tilly stepped up next to Tony, his defence stance already a pose. She only had to say it and he would have danced on Charlie's face, with pleasure, as he hated the spoilt little shit and his crap music anyway.

'Charlie ... Meet Tony ... My personal security and driver ... Unfortunately, I'm not like you and don't have an entourage of scantily glad playmates to keep me company ... As you already know, Clive and Cath crashed-out seven hours ago ... I've worked with Tony before, and have every right to hold a civil conversation with him ... I'm sorry if you don't know what the word civil means, having never experienced it yourself ... But I'm sure you'll work it out on your little phone thing ...'

Charlie's face had turned upwards with everyone else's. It had also blanched a little, Tilly noticed, seeming without its usual colour all of a sudden. Her words bounced around in his boozy dope filled brain. It was having a strange effect on him. There it was, the accelerant, her sarcasm, it struck the match so it all went boom.

When Charlie stood, Dev stood, and Tony took one more pace forward.

'You come in here, all high and mighty, waving your little English flag, thinking you rule the God damn waves ... Well, newsflash, sugar, you ain't nothing special round here ... Hell, today's winner is tomorrow's loser ... If anyone should know that, it's the damn English, cuz we sure kicked your asses, didn't we?' Charlie replied, his smile bordering on evil.

'I hate you, Charlie Kerman, and I hope you die a horrid death, alone ... I never want to see you again ... EVER,' Tilly snapped, her face frozen in its cascade of salty droplets.

'I suggest you get your little girlfriend the fuck outta here before she ends up needing my fist surgically removed from her face,' Charlie nearly shouted at Tony, but didn't, deciding it probably was not a good idea.

So Tony did take her home, and before it all turned nasty, and before it was captured and sold for the front page of some notorious rag.

The drive down to the beach was very quiet, on the roads as well as in the car. No radio, no TV. Tilly didn't want to hear it, she didn't want to talk either, which was understandable, considering. Once sparkling eyes had been rendered watery by some rich bastard with a chip the size of his own head balanced on his shoulder.

Tony was not impressed. Tilly was a special lady, and she didn't deserve being spoken to like that. Sometimes guys could be so uncool. Charlie was uncool, Tony knew that much. To be like that, and say those things, when she was only trying to be nice. There was no need, not really.

Every so often her hand would lift to her face. He guessed she was still crying a bit, sat, turned to the window, and looking so small on that big bench seat. The stretched limo had swallowed her whole, clutch bag and all, and she emanated sorrow, the kind that doesn't fade too quickly sometimes.

Taking the turn into her drive, he pulled around the turning space, parking up in front of the lovely cottage. Tony had always liked the place with its sweet location, it was big, with lots of space, and had its own section of private beach. He had often wondered about its sale price, but never enquired, he didn't make that kind of money, not doing his job, but he still liked it all the same, and he liked that Tilly lived there.

Climbing from the car, he walked round and opened the passenger door for her. She emerged, her face pale but always with a smile of thanks.

'Tony ... I'm sorry about ...'

'No, really,' he butted in, lifting a hand to pause Tilly in her sentence. 'There's no need to explain ... You don't have to apologise either ... I get it,' he grinned, his fingers playing with the car door.

She tried the smile thing again, and it was nearly there but still seemed a little fake somehow.

'Look, the guy's a dick, you're right ... So, don't be down, there's nothing wrong with stating the obvious ... You won three Oscars, three ... That's like two more than he'll ever win, and you helped him get the only one he has,' Tony chuckled, for being correct in everything he said.

Tilly knew it. The cold flooded away and was replaced with a new feeling, the feeling of being a winner, which she was, three times over, and she liked it.

'Thank you, Tony, you've helped loads, again ... Would you like a coffee, or are you shooting off for a couple of hours?' she asked, making her way slowly to her front door.

'Nah, but thanks,' he politely refused. 'I'll go freshen up then come for you at about one ... That should give you enough time to shower and wake up ... I'll text before I leave, plus I'll let Silvio know he's got the day off,' he smiled, walking back to the driver's door.

'Okay,' she waved, unlocking and stepping inside. 'I'll see you later ... Drive safe,' was called out into the warmly scented air, which promised to bring another nice day.

Clive wasn't very happy. Charlie knew this because Clive didn't say hello, as Cath showed him into the library, but growled, his patience with the boy ground down to dust. Clive wanted to shout and bawl, he wanted to slap his perpetually arrogant face, and then slap it some more. He almost threw the newspaper at Charlie's head, only it didn't hold enough weight to hit hard. It rustled and fluttered in his direction, the pages separating as if a flock of printed seagulls. They landed at Charlie's feet. He sat and watched them become silent.

Looking up at Clive, slowly, words were finally said by someone, and it wasn't Cath, for a change.

'So ... Did someone special get grilled on the Red Carpet,' Charlie grinned, crossing his arms, 'or have your shares in Studio Forty-Two suddenly crashed? ... Again ...'

Clive looked over at Charlie, from where he'd moved to by the window, his hands resting at his waist. Turning, he walked towards then passed Charlie, over to push the door shut, his actions obvious.

Charlie watched as Clive stalked back to his desk. Looking down at the scattered pages, he rested his butt against the edge, his arms crossing the same as Charlie's. A look settled in over his middle-aged features, a palm sweeping the lower part of his face before he started.

'When did you last see Tilly?' Clive asked the smiling man looking up at him.

'Ages ago, after the awards, at James's party ... Why?' he asked in reply.

'Charlie, there's something you need to know before you read all about it, as the English like to shout,' Clive mumbled, his voice kept rather low.

He was holding something back and Charlie could feel it. It put a cold line down the middle of the room, it touched his arms, and he didn't like it.

'Clive, where's this going ... What's up?' he asked, his eyes narrowing as he clocked the change of expression on Clive's face.

'When you last saw her, how did she look? Did she look okay to you?'

'Yeah, she looked fine, she was with a young guy ... Called him Tony, said he was her security and driver ... He was a bit in my face that night ... I didn't like him, not at all ... Who is he anyway?'

Charlie stopped talking and looked up at Clive. That silly cold feeling still touched bare flesh, it pinched and prodded. A hand tried brushing it away as if a small insect crept threw the hairs. Nothing was there, nothing but air.

Clive knew Tony well enough, but Charlie didn't. Tony had moved in from Chicago and had only just taken over as Clive's Top Man, as he called him. There was no need for Charlie to know more, so Clive didn't tell him.

'He's just a driver I use in emergencies,' Clive replied in a burst, turning to get them both a drink from his little bar to one side.

'Is there more then, or is that it? Must say, he's wasn't the usual grunt that drives a flash car for you? What's so special about him then, Clive?' Charlie had to ask.

Clive walked back with two tumblers, each half full of bourbon. One was passed over to Charlie, still sat where he was, arms still crossed.

'No, it's nothing to do with him, forget Tony ... It's all about Tilly,' Clive then slipped in, as cool as you like.

'So ... Hurry up, will you, Clive, my ass is starting to die a death here,' Charlie tried to smile, whilst wriggling at the same time, which made it even harder to stay focused.

'Look, Charlie, things might be changing around here soon, there are things that will come to light that you might not be ready for ... All I'll say is this, son, if you love that woman, like I think you love her, you better do something about it soon ... Ask her to marry you or she'll be gone.'

Clive's eyes were settled on the younger man, sat, thinking about what he was saying. He left it long enough for that part to dribble in. Once he'd waited his allotted time, Charlie looked up at him, as if on cue.

'Charlie ... I heard about what happened at James's place ... It was not cool, I didn't like it, and you were way out of line speaking to her like that ... Everyone there told me what you did, through one media or another ... The people are not happy with your outburst ... But what amazes me most of all, Charlie ... Tilly has never once mentioned it to me, not one word about what you said and how you said it ... It's as though you were never there to crush her in the way you did ...'

Charlie's face was slowly changing as his drink was consumed. He held onto his silence, there was more of that left than pride.

'This is where you've not only screwed me, and everyone else in The Wood, Charlie, but you've also screwed yourself ... And of the only woman I ever saw love you, truly love you ... You dick.'

Blue eyes travelled a room he had sat in a thousand times before. Everything was in its place, even the dog in his basket, softly snoring.

'Screwed myself, how, Clive? She hates me, she told me that ... And in front of all your snitching media lovers, might I add ... She doesn't care about me or what I do ... I thought we'd already established that,' he hastily replied, his drink being drained.

The glass was lifted for a refill. Clive walked away, two more to follow, same as before.

'Oh, well, it doesn't matter then ... There was more, but if that's the case, I'll let it go,' Clive then chirped as he returned to his perch.

Charlie's glass was back. It was lifted and sipped, his eyes still on Clive.

'So, why bother mentioning it to me? ... She'll move on eventually, like they all do ... Some young pair of pants will soon come along and fill that hole eventually, don't you worry,' Charlie, snidely replied, thinking he was being funny. He wasn't, of course, only he, himself, chuckled at that one.

Clive put his drink down. His arms crossed, to stop his knuckles from lashing out to backhand the younger face before him, so it was probably a good idea he also discarded his heavy tumbler.

'God, give me strength, please,' Clive asked of the ceiling, hoping a little light might show from above. It didn't, so he carried on with, 'What is it you sometimes say? ... Newsflash, loser ... Well, this is a god damn newsflash, you stupid jerk ... She's selling up and going home, back to Blighty, taking all her stories and scripts with her ... And all thanks to you ... God damn it ...'

Tilly wasn't leaving, she wasn't going anywhere, but Charlie didn't know that. He hadn't seen her since that horrid night, too ashamed to show his face, his pride taking a tumble. Flashbacks happen for a reason, to remind you of your misdemeanours and the hideous things you do when you have no control over your body. It's the mind's way of recording it for you, so it can play it back, in full colour, at a later date, usually when you least need it, like when you're trying to sleep at four in the morning.

Charlie had lived it already, rerun after rerun, night after terrible night. He looked stunned, as though he'd just been shot in the forehead after watching the bullet hurtle towards him. All colour drained from his face, his pretty tan too. That cold streak, it suddenly became a burning sensation. It started just below his skin and sank inwards, towards the very core of him, the very heart even.

'She's leaving? ... Selling up and going? ... I didn't know ... Is it because she thinks I hate her? Is she leaving because I've driven her away? It can't just be about that, there has to be more ... I didn't mean it Clive ... I was angry, overly excited, I, I, I wasn't in my right mind, all stoned and pissed up ... Oh, Christ, what have I done, Clive ... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' the younger man stammered, his words almost lost.

Charlie's sorrow hit him full in the centre of his body. A hand rose and rubbed at his chest, the action not really helping at all. There had been numerous levels of pain throughout Charlie's life. It varied from Dexter, his last bodyguard, accidently punching him in the face, instead of the guy with the camera, to losing his Mum, when he was twenty-two and only just starting to get to know her.

Sat there, feeling it, that one was a tough one to explain. It was nearly likened to when his wife said she'd had enough of the philandering, and wanton bad behaviour, and was leaving him to go live with her sister in Wichita. She also took their two dogs, Mexico and Jamaica, plus most of the contents of the house. At least she left him the empty shell as part of the settlement, of that he was more than happy.

Clive was in a strange position. Really, he loved both people concerned, it was just a shame they couldn't get their timing more together.

'Charlie, I know, ages ago I said don't go there, don't make a mess of it ... Well, somehow, you spoiled her, she doesn't look anywhere else, or she didn't ... How she feels now is anyone's guess, but, this is where you have to make your final decision ... Charlie, do you love the woman, and I mean, really love the woman?' Clive asked, his serious face set and his drink nearly done.

Charlie didn't need to think about the answer, it was there in a flash, his mouth just about keeping up with the outburst.

'Yes ... Yes, I do ... I love Tilly Stiller ... No one else, just her, Clive ... Just her ...'

Charlie had finally said it, out loud, and before a witness who knew that look well enough to also know the truth.

'Well ... Get out there and tell her, not me, you big sack of useless ... Jeez, you can't teach stupid,' Clive chuckled, smiling down at his broken young friend.

As Charlie hurriedly exited through one door, another opened, found on the opposite side of the room.

'Do you think he's fallen for it, or did I go overboard?' Clive smiled as the newcomer joined him for a well-deserved drink.

'Nah, I think it was just enough to get his ass going in the right direction,' was grinned back at him.

Two glasses lifted to raise a toast, Clive saying nice words for them both.

'Here's to their very happy marriage ... And may it be forged in true Hollywood style,' Clive smiled over at Dev.

Glasses chinked as each said Amen, and, as the wheels were set in motion for the wedding of the year, Charlie set off home to create the proposal of a lifetime.

### ~

Flying, she was, above the clouds, soaring, with her arms stretched out and big tears in her eyes. The plume of condensing water suddenly took shape, forming a face before her, her Dad's, his features smiling as his eyes looked down to watch her passing by. Then she was in the arms of a lover with no features at all. She could feel him, close, warming her skin, but his face was seen as the sun, smiling at her from his vast expanse of blue above.

Music came floating in and floating out, soft music, and there was a voice, a nice voice, a male voice. It was one she knew, his dulcet tones as familiar as if her own. In and out it wavered, riding a tide, gone then back, the sensation bringing her to the shores of home, dumping her where she started, in bed, trying to sleep.

Her eyes popped open with the calling of her name.

'Till-lly ...'

She knew, climbing from her sheets, she just knew.

'Till-lly ...'

Pulling on her maxi dress, she still knew.

'... TILLY ...'

Then, finally, walking to the balcony in her bedroom, she knew there could be only one.

'Christ, Charlie, please, shut up and leave ... My neighbours will complain if you carry on like that ... The security lot will be passing by again soon, and they usually have a really hungry dog with them ... Don't be here when they get back ...'

Anger was touching her voice as she spoke down from her balcony, down to the man below, pissed, again, with his guitar strap hung around his shoulders, the instrument being softly strummed.

Tilly noticed a few lights popping on along the short strip of private beach, others had heard, it wasn't just her. Huffing out a sigh she could have laughed at it all. He was trying, very trying.

'Charlie Kerman ... Please, I'm ignoring your advances, as I've already told you ... Now, vacate my lawn before someone calls the police ... You're also very drunk ... Go home,' she whined, her face at the point of caving to the tears hanging in almost laughing eyes.

'Without you ... I have no home,' he bleated. 'You are home to me, Tilly Stiller, and I won't go until I get some ... I'm sorry I was a dick ... Please forgive me ... I love you so much ... I am not worthy of such a jewel, you have me, Tilly Stiller, I am yours, for life and forever,' he beamed, his face all aglow from too much puff the magic roll-up.

'What the hell are you talking about now? ... Wait there, I'm coming down,' Tilly started to say, just as he interrupted her.

'No, Tilly, don't go ... There's something else, before you decide to call the cops ... It's very important ... And it concerns you,' he smiled, from the smallest stage he'd ever played, but nice all the same, right near the beach.

Tilly looked down from her spot on high.

'What, Charlie, is there more? Hurry up then ... Miss Jackson is twitching her curtains, you have about three minutes ...'

Charlie tried to remember the plan. Oh, yes, there it was, sat behind the pissed daydream of them playing with their little kid on the beach. He smiled.

'Yeah, and it's mega urgent you hear it right now, because I love you, and that other bloke, the bast'd at the party, that wasn't me, not the real me, no, he was a dick, you were so right, so I killed him ... That isn't how I really feel, please believe me ... What I said and did, I'm sorry, Tilly, I'm really sorry ... So, now you'll know how much I do love you, and you'll know what I say is real, and that I really mean what I say,' Charlie waffled, his balance just about keeping him from becoming a heap on his small patch of wilting grass.

'Hurry up then, get on with it, Charlie ... Oh, God ... Now they've come out, both of them ... Charlie, for the last time ... Please, go away,' Tilly almost shouted down at him.

She was tired, more tired than ever.

'No ... No ... No ... Tilly, I am not going ... I'm going to do this, even if the police have to drag me away, kicking, singing, and playing ... I will do this, even if it kills me ... And there's nothing anyone can do about it ... So there,' was his reply, his head swaying side to side in denial.

He looked smugly up at the woman he adored, a real Romeo in the making, a serenade included.

Charlie heard the bark of the security dog in the distance as he started to play and sing again. The melody was from the heart, his voice perfect for such sentiment. His heartfelt tune lifted high, up to Tilly and, out, beyond the cooling sand and, out, across the vast ocean.

'... The struggle is all you see, but it's more than we're really being ... I'm holding on tight, I must, I must, I must, I must ...'

Letting her in was the only way of showing her she was the one. Nothing had worked, nothing at all, this was her last chance. Charlie, himself, was stubborn, Tilly, well, she was a whole stage higher.

'... And what of my final say, when all of your words seem hollow ... So back to my day, no time, no time, no time ...'

'Charlie ... The Security guys will be here in a moment, I think Mister Carmichael might have buzzed the emergency bleeper thing he has ... Charlie ...'

Tilly tried, but his eyes were closed and he was lost, singing his latest offering, his song for her. She wandered off then came back shortly after. He was still going.

'... Just don't give up, you have to believe me ... It's not what we say it's in the way that we mean it ... Just don't give up, you have to believe me ... It's not what we say it's in the way that we mean it ... No time to be, no time to be, no time to be ...'

'Charlie,' Tilly said down to him, 'I have the power to stop this right now ... Your audience is slowly growing and I feel I must end it before it gets out of hand, and you end up locked away for the night ... I get it, Charlie,' she said down to the man she secretly loved more than words, 'you love me ... But this ... This has to stop ... Now ...'

'... No time to be on our own, no time to be falling down ... Seems we can live our lives, maybe turn them round so it's far better than before ...'

'Charlie ... Please, I don't want to do it but I will ...'

Charlie's eyes were still closed as he lamented the final chorus and closing lines.

'... Now we can play their game, now we can make their grade ... Just watch as we wage our war on a world that doesn't see us anymore ...'

'Okay, Charlie ... You asked for it,' Tilly said, as the two Security Guards appeared with their mean looking dog, and as Mister Carmichael, and three of his guests, walked out onto his decking

'... Don't give up ... You have to believe me ...'

Charlie was nearly there, just a few more words.

'... You have to believe me ... You have to believe me ...'

As he opened his eyes to finish his perfect song to his perfect woman, it hit him, full in the face, head to foot, drenched. Her timing couldn't have been better and her aim, well, what a shot.

Tilly stood on her balcony, the empty bucket in her hand, her face almost sad for having to do it. She could see from her elevated spot it had gushed into the body of his lovely acoustic. Maybe it was that which hurt her most, flooding his beautiful guitar.

Officer Pollard went to speak, after seeing the dramatic affair unravel before him. Officer Hensley, his partner, was very quiet, holding the lead to Bravo. The dog was sat watching too, its head to one side, thinking what a let-down of an evening. It was just another piss-head starlet trying to get laid.

Pollard looked at Hensley. It was the same thought for them both, bet she caved and let him in, they always did.

'Well, folks, thank you for this exciting interlude,' Pollard said over his shoulder as he turned back to the crazy couple before them. 'Sadly, we, that's my partner and I, we're just wondering ... Would ya'll mind taking it into the studio, please ... I know this is probably a moment of clarity, for you, sir, more than anyone, but I have to ask you to vacate this plot with your instrument, and step in the direction of the house, or alternative location, thereby leaving this area immediately ...'

Pollard's eyes lifted to Tilly, her face quite well known by then.

'Miss Stiller, is this man being a nuisance to your good self? ... If you require us to expel him from your grounds, we are at liberty to do so, on your behalf, just say the words and we will assist.'

His head turned so it looked over his shoulder at Hensley.

'Wait for it ... She's gonna cave ... Like they all do ... She so wants it, you can tell,' he whispered just loud enough for his buddy to hear.

He turned back again. Boy, what a tale to tell the guys at Oscar One, they'll love hearing all about their night, not often does a good one present itself. Their evening had dragged, his week had dragged, but that night, which made up for all those false alarms, was worth every second spent doing that miserable job.

The soaked guy, stood, squelching as he paddled in this growing puddle, turned towards the two Officers and their dog. When he spoke he sounded happy, and what he had to say was a little unexpected.

'I'm sorry, Officers, I was just trying to ask the crazy woman to marry me ... I wrote a song and everything ... Okay, her way of showing her love for me is a bit strange, but I dig it, it's cool ... So, anyway, I was just about to pop the question when she became so overcome with my love song, she felt the need to extinguish the burning fire that rages within me ...'

Charlie turned to face Tilly, his wet face all big smiles and sky blue eyes.

'And you, ya little minx ... I ain't finished with you ... We got a contract to thrash out, you have a wedding to arrange ... And I need to get my shit together ...'

He hiccupped as he turned to the two quiet men and their patient dog.

'Hey, I need a Best Man and a spare witness, just in case ... You in, dog too? ... When we come up with a convenient date we'll let ya know ...'

As Charlie started his next bout of verbal garbage, Tilly made her move. Dropping down a floor, wearing her blue maxi dress, she opened the door and walked out onto the deck. She noticed her neighbours had retreated when the Officers came to call. It was a nice night, with the winter jasmine still in bloom, its scent drifting on the soft sea breeze.

'So,' Charlie said to Pollard, 'I think she'd look amazing in a long lace dress in a creamy colour ... Off the shoulders, she has such amazing shoulders, and some really nice tattoos ... And it has to have that long bit out the back, whatever that's called, so it's like those posh one's ya see in that classy woman's magazine ... Vogue, is it?'

'Thank you, Officers, I'll take it from here ... Sorry to cause so much trouble at this time of the morning ... Please extend my apologises to those we've offended, I insist,' Tilly smiled as she dropped down the steps and walked towards Charlie and her other guests.

Turning his drying face he smiled, 'I love you, Tilly, so much, heaps, mountains, to Jupiter and back ... I didn't at first, I thought you a bit too old, a bit too ordinary ... But you're not old or ordinary, you're anything but ... You're crazy, and smart, and ya smoke and drink, and ya blow my mind, make me sing, make me laugh ...'

'It's alright now, Charlie, I understand ... We'll go inside and let these nice men get back to more important stuff ... This way,' she grinned, taking his left arm and turning him towards the house.

Charlie stopped, bringing her a standstill, his handsome face looking down at her.

'Till, I have a present for you, it's over there ...'

Charlie pointed towards a wrapped board which was rather large. It was leant against her trashcan, a few paces away, the brown paper almost lost to the early morning light.

'Thank you, Charlie, we can take it in with us ... I'll open it as you make us a drink ... Shall we do that?' she softly asked, her eyes holding a myriad of tiny sparkles, just for him.

Funny, but they were there again, blocking out everyone else in their proximity, as though they were the last souls left alive. Charlie dripped as Tilly glowed. She was the candle to light his sleepless night, the harbour in his stormy life, the glue that kept his feet welded to the ground, and she was all the reasons why he was acting so messed up in the head. Charlie had a new addiction. It came in the form of one Tilly Stiller, and his need to get high was growing by the second.

They turned away, heading for the steps to the cottage in the dunes. Tilly, guided and chatted, her lovely face all Charlie really needed to see. He was so drunk he couldn't focus on much else, even after his dowsing and his close encounter with Security. There was something added to the mix, half an ounce of great weed probably. Charlie did like a good smoke, he loved his green as much as he loved sitting in bed with the papers on a Sunday morning, with or without a woman, he didn't mind.

Pollard walked back to Hensley, patting the dog on the head. He made one comment as they headed for the beach. He chuckled as he said it.

'Told ya she'd cave ... They always do, the lucky bastard ...'

Tilly looked at the wrapped board leant against the table on a chair. It entered her house tucked under her right arm, as she almost lifted a drunken Charlie up the steps and into the cottage, and was told to sit it sideways, or landscape, for the full affect. A part of her wanted to leave him out there, but she'd have to sober him up to send him home, he couldn't drive in that state.

'Go on ... Open it then ... It's for you,' Charlie stated with his drink in his hand. He'd poured them one each upon seeing the bottles on the sideboard.

'I know,' Tilly replied, taking her's and stepping nearer. 'I'm going to, don't rush me, I like to take my time ...'

'Don't you just,' he said under his breath, quietly, just not quietly enough.

'Charlie, don't be so rude, you can make people go off you when you're like that ... You were the same at that stupid party ... Now, shut up, I'm drinking,' she batted back, her sips being consumed as she stood and looked, saying little else.

'Open it ... Please,' he whined, his face almost screwing up in agony. 'This is taking too long, drink quicker,' he chided, as if an awkward teenager.

Tilly flashed him an angry glance before walking over to the table to place her glass on its surface. Looking back at Charlie once more, her hands went to work at opening the thing he'd been so eager she open.

The paper was torn away to reveal the contents. Tilly was very quiet as she took a step back and checked out Charlie's treasured artwork. He had been busy.

'Well, what do you think?' he asked, swaying slightly on the spot, his drink quickly evaporating.

Her hands rose and wiped over her cheeks, her eyes studying that which sat before her.

'I don't know what to say ... I'm amazed, in lots of ways ... I like the lettering you used ... Which font is that?' she enquired, her eyes floating round to Charlie as she waited for him to reply.

'Urh, don't know ... Jokerman or something, I can't remember ... I liked the result ... Thought you might like it too,' he grinned, his empty glass resting in his hand.

He moved away for a refill, taking Tilly's glass with him.

In her silence Tilly looked at the collage squashed under the Perspex of the A3 size clip-frame. Charlie had found an array of photos with them both in, together, and had chopped them up then stuck them all to the back board. She could just make out the gold Happy Engagement wrapping paper hiding beneath as a gap filler. Overlaid, as a scanty surround, were a few bits of nice white confetti, and he'd slapped Will You Marry Me across the middle in quite big letters. Tilly was touched, all that trouble and all that time taken. She chuckled, she had to.

Charlie returned and looked at her in the soft light of all those candles, she was so beautiful, her hair, her gentle features. There was no way he'd ever want to lose sight of those simple things.

In all his born days he'd never loved something so much, her and her sweet smile. He had to ask her, he had to. It was the right time and the right place, his bridge in the moonlight. There was no way around it. He just had to make that move.

'I love you so much ... Marry me, Tilly Stiller ... And if you don't say yes, I'll keep on singing under your window until you do ...'

Tilly turned to look at him, her tired brain on the very edge of causing an implosion in her head. She wanted to scream her words, but said them quietly instead, just enough for Charlie to hear her over him rambling.

'Charlie, it's not because I don't want to ... It's not even because I can't ... It's just that right now is not a good time, in fact, it's a really, really bad time ... Trust me on this ...'

'Rubbish it's not right ... It's so right, let's face it, it's God damn perfect ... Everyone sees it but you ... Did you know The Harper did a survey about who they thought would end up married, we came third ...?'

'Charlie ... I'm not well ...'

Her hands linked together as she turned away to the balcony, waiting for her words to sink in. Silence washed over her from behind. Charlie had heard her just fine.

'What do you mean by, not well? ... Is that, not well, like glandular fever, not well like a urine infection, or a sickness bug, maybe a fever? ... How, not well?' he jabbered at her, his body language suggesting he was getting a little tetchy.

'I'm not well in the terminal way ... There's no coming back from this one, Charlie ... It's over,' she replied, not taking her eyes from the pale blue sky.

Charlie swallowed so loudly she heard it too. He was slowly drying out, stood by the open fire she'd lit for him, though he wasn't sobering up very quickly she noticed.

'What ...? What did you just say? Did I hear you right? ... Tilly ...!'

Charlie walked over and pulled her round to face him, but her eyes dropped to her hands as he stood before her. He wanted to shake her, taking her gently by her upper arms, but he didn't, he looked down at her, her slim face and her wet cheeks. She was quietly crying to herself.

'Tilly, honey, what do you mean? What's over? The year's over, it sure is ... My recording session is over, without a doubt ... My divorce is over, most defiantly ... What's any of that got to do with you?' he asked, not able to process the words she'd just fed him.

He stood back and looked at her again, the way her silver threaded hair fell in soft curls, the chestnut sheen catching the light as if a flash of fire.

Watery blue eyes lifted to look at him. Turning away, she wasn't able to face him. She wanted to hide, even better, beam me up, planet Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here, please.

Tilly stayed quiet, she'd said too much already. Her only option was to keep going and tell the truth, the whole truth, to someone, anyone. Charlie was good stock, he loved her, dearly, he was her best friend, surely he'd understand.

She walked over to the sideboard as Charlie's silence followed her, his focus totally on the woman in his midst. Pouring herself a glass of red wine, she knew it would help keep her doomed blood a little thinner. Corroding muscles had started to ache, the fatigue catching her out sometimes. A team of people did most things for her, all the paperwork, her diaries, booking interviews, appointments, even stocked her cupboards on a regular basis, she wanted for nothing.

All she had to do was sit and do the one thing she loved more than Charlie, and that was to bash away at her books and screenplays. Sadly, as she did so, she wasted away, her whole body slowly giving up.

'I'm sorry, Charlie, I haven't really been honest with you at all, have I?' she half grinned, her hand brushing the last of her silly tears away. 'Take a seat and I'll tell you my story ... But, please, don't lay into me until I've finished ... I have my reasons for doing what I did.'

So, Tilly explained all about the incurable heart decease she had, exactly the same as the condition that had killed her father so suddenly, as Charlie moved to take a seat on the Chesterfield.

'... I had it confirmed when I returned to England after the filming ended ... The tests all came back positive, no doubt about it ... There aren't any choices left for me now, only one, the path I'm on ... And that's why, when you keep asking me to marry you, I want to, but I'm not going to do it and then leave you ...'

Charlie went to speak.

'Don't ... I haven't finished yet,' she said softly, her raised hand halting him as her face dropped away. 'There's another reason why I can't be what you want me to be ...'

'Tilly, I'm really trying to keep up here, but I'm finding it a little hard to get a grip right now ... Do Clive and Patsy know? Does your family?' Charlie asked, amazed that she'd hidden so much for so long. The woman was without a stopping point.

'Me and you ... That's it ... Oh, and my Specialist, my GP, and my assistant Sam ... But I only told her about three months ago ... I haven't told my family yet ... Mum's not well herself and I didn't want to add to it,' Tilly concluded, her eyes back to blue flint, sharpened at the edges.

Walking over to join him, she landed next to him on aged leather.

'There's another reason for me not getting closer, the seven year age gap ... Charlie, I've been in love with you for years, but I couldn't tell you in fear of damaging the project somehow, and it was horrid knowing I'd never say those words to you ... I couldn't, it didn't seem right I should feel that way ... Being older, I should know better ...'

Charlie butted in with, 'But you did, you did tell me ... The night of your moving in party, you told me just before you passed out ... You said it and never remembered ... But you still said it ...'

Tilly chuckled as she smiled, 'Charlie, I was high as a kite, I'm not senile ... The flashbacks started about a month later ... I thought I did something wrong, you weren't the same around me, everything changed after that night.'

Charlie fell under her spell. He looked at her, his expression softening as her revelation repeated itself through every inch of him.

'Tilly, I'll be the best friend I can possibly be ... If you need me, just ring me, night or day, I'm a short drive away ...'

She laughed, 'Ha, there's a song there ...'

'I mean it,' he finished, knowing she was listening but pretending not to.

'I know,' she smiled in her sweet way, her shoulder bumping off his, as it always did after sinking a few drinks. She was always lovely like that, a happy drunk.

'What ... What you smiling at? Why you looking at me in that way?' he asked, his eyes settling on the one that made his heart skip a beat.

'I was just thinking ... I'm glad I bought this house off Tom ... I love it here, on the coast ... The sunsets are amazing ... I sometimes get up early and watch them from my bedroom balcony. The skies above the ocean are stunning first thing ... I think I'll stay right here, forever, and never leave my beautiful beach ...'

Tilly stopped talking as Charlie's face brightened a little.

He smiled as he said, 'I'm glad you're staying ... Tilly, this is your home now, we're you're family ... If anything gets you through, it'll be the things that mean the most ... And I ain't going anywhere, I can promise you that.'

Tilly kissed his nose, stood, and walked off towards the bathroom.

'Good,' she said over her shoulder, 'I need to pee, all that wine has gone straight to my bladder ... Open that bottle of Jack on the shelf instead, there's a love ... I'll be back in a bit.'

And off she sauntered.

After a week of not seeing her, or hearing from her, Charlie was starting to worry. That night, the night of the love song and flying water, that was the night the final takeover was completed and touchdown was achieved. Their first night, together like that, it blew Charlie's mind. Her form, a shape in the half light of dawn, slowly glided towards him, as her dress was discarded in one slow movement, up and over, naked beneath.

She had shown him a different way, slow and tender, soft fingertips and trailing lips. Embers became flames, the night taken to a height Charlie thought was just in the stories she wrote. Cocooned in the arms of the woman he needed to protect for the rest of her life, he knew love was a dangerous game indeed.

To have, to hold, till dead do them part, those words shook him awake from a dream of lost time and broken promises. Wherever she was, he needed to be.

'... Clive you gotta tell me, please, I beg you, where did Tilly go, where? ... Has she gone for specialist treatment someplace? ... It might kill her, had you thought of that, and she's like a daughter to you, your friend, your close friend, a colleague even ...?'

Charlie had charged across the room, almost knocking a side table off its three legs, his need to know as important as the air in his lungs.

Cath reined him in by catching his arm. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at the pretty lady, she was soft and sweet, and couldn't be nasty if she tried.

She glanced over at Clive, who looked away as he said, 'Tell if you must, but I won't be a part of it ... Just butt out, Charlie ... She has business to do ... Just leave her be ...'

His arms crossed as he sat back in his library chair, turning away slightly. He knew what would happen if he told, Charlie would follow. Tilly wasn't going off to have treatment. Where the hell did he get that from? He was about to say something when Cath spoke in her lovely gentle way.

'Sweetheart, Tilly isn't having treatment ... She's gone home to tell her family about her condition ... I'm sorry you didn't know ... She said she'll ring you when she gets back.'

'So you guys knew too, all this time?' Charlie asked, with amazement plastered all over his handsomely tanned face.

Clive turned and looked at his wonderful wife. When he spoke his gaze travelled to Charlie.

'A month ago I got a call from Tilly, she asked me to meet her at the beach house, so I did ... She told me all about it, and what she also told me is this, and God forgive me for telling you such a secret ... There are two things in this world that woman loves more than her own life ... That's words ... And you ... No, don't,' Clive said, seeing Charlie's need to speak, 'you have to hear this, son, so ya will ...'

He moved slightly in his seat, one bum cheek having more blood in it than the other. A new chair would have to be ordered, that one had to go.

'I've come to think of you as one of my kids ... Jeez, I've known ya long enough, so I'm gonna give it to ya straight,' he smiled, leaning forward onto his desk, his arms folded before him. 'Don't cage her in, Charlie, please ... She's doing okay, she's dealing with it just fine, so don't go dragging her down, not now ... There's no treatment left for her, nothing, not any more, that's it, game over ... She knows that ... She's gone to say goodbye ... Don't make that any harder for her ... She wouldn't be able to cope ...'

Poor Charlie was ashen, sat in his seat, quiet as a little mouse. There was a ripping sound inside, as if a page of love poetry had been taken from its book and balled up, ready for the fire. All that was warm was cold, all that was joy was sorrow, no colour, no tune, no rhyme, no reason, simply nothing and her. The hurt swirled as the pain spread, the heat rose and the blood boiled. All emotions, all at once, they lifted him, using the power of within.

It drove him to the window where the sun was going down, another spectacular ending to a really shitty day. He wanted to scream, but didn't have the strength, he wanted to rant, but couldn't find the words. Fizzes and bangs shot around his insides, his temperature rising as he held his breath.

'Charlie,' Cath smiled, 'she knows you love her ... Only ... She's going to hurt and waste away, and she doesn't want you to see that ... She doesn't want that hurting you ... It isn't a case of cutting you out of her life because she doesn't love you, you silly boy ... Tilly loves you, very much, but you mustn't know that ... You're her friend, Charlie ... Be a friend, she needs you ... She needs you so much, and now more than ever ...'

Clive sort of told Charlie when Tilly was due back, the day she landed and at what time. Sort of being told is nearly the same as sort of finding out, but not quite. It came about when Charlie saw something on Clive's desk in his beloved's handwriting.

Tilly had noted down all the details for Tony to collect her from the airport. Clive wasn't in the room but wasn't far. He'd stepped out for a moment to do something and was gone about five minutes, the bathroom probably.

Charlie, in is infinite wisdom, decided to take said note, ball it up, and throw it into the fire their chubby mutt slept beside. He'd noted the details into his mobile before destroying the notelet, thereby having the only copy of her return flight details.

On the other side of the partly open door, Cath and Clive stood, with their hands over their mouths, whispering about whether he'd be as predictable, and as sneaky, as they knew he was, and do exactly as they thought he would. Good old Charlie didn't let them down, even to burning the scrap of paper in the fire that Duke softly snored next to. Their happiness showed as they bounced in small movements and kissed each other. Calming down, they smarted up and went back to their day. The plan had worked beautifully.

Next morning Clive rang Tony to tell him he had the next two weeks off, double pay, and told him to have a nice time.

'Tilly won't be in need of your services, Tony,' Clive laughed down the clearest of lines, 'she's going on her honeymoon soon ... I'll let you know when she's mobile again, you'll be the first to know ... You've always looked after our English Rose, and I thank you for that ...'

Charlie's birthday loomed once more, another year lost to the beat and chaos of life. Deciding he needed to celebrate, he felt it would somehow help him forget the part of his world which was dying. He couldn't show it, say it, or even try to explain it. Life had turned tables on him, once a Playboy, now obsessed with one woman, a woman that would one day leave him lonely. Drained of all humour, Charlie lived in limbo until Tilly was back by his side. He nearly went after her, ten times, but his love for her stopped him, knowing the task she was undertaking.

Tilly was the summer of his life, the ones you reminisce when you're old and drifting in a rocking chair. They come to you, a whisper on the breeze, a moment trapped within the blink of an aging eye. Life without her was hell, ten days gone and three to go. Trying to run towards it didn't help, sleeping through it didn't help, and being a bit pissed and stoned didn't help, nothing did, nothing at all.

He withered without her light, not feeling the warmth of a quiet evening, alone, together, not hearing her voice or having her lips to kiss, even if it was just his forehead. Charlie found all her little quirks cute, from stirring her coffee to playing with her keys, and then the way she watched ice-hockey with that childish excitement on her face. All those things made a package called Tilly Stiller, and he loved her without boundaries.

Charlie was lost in his conversation. Pins and Cosh, from the band, were already looking at tour dates in South America, their Management Company having emailed an example over to them earlier in the day. He'd danced, got drunk, and had the best birthday ever. Quality time spent there, with her, being silly, laughing, partying, and dancing their arses off. Charlie was in heaven.

Tilly had gone, mingling through the horde for chats and catch-ups. Friends, old and new, grouped round her for hugs and kisses, their smiles as genuine as hers, her bouts of laughter the best.

He'd watched, as he always did, his eyes not straying far from the view he loved most, Tilly. Wherever, whenever, she had him stapled to her, no letting go, just as he'd said. Sometimes, she was so alive she almost had fireworks spurting from the top of her head, her imagination becoming a bright journey of dreams, each one full of hope and courage.

Charlie and Tilly met up, on passing, for a quick chat, a kiss, a photo session, and then more kisses. After that she was gone again, in that direction, pulled away to dance with Jade, Petra and Celina. In her denim shorts, Brat vest and stinky old high-tops, Tilly danced and laughed, and glanced in his direction every so often, her smile always there.

'... I so get it, really, I do, and what with everything that's been happening lately, plus there's her work, then trying to be everywhere at once ...'

'Charlie ... I'll marry you,' Tilly said into the microphone, not being heard at all, over him talking, the music, and all the other noise being blasted across the club.

'... And then there's all the interviews, they must be gruelling,' Charlie continued, not even knowing what was happening behind. 'One minute she's here, the next over in New York, backwards and forwards, no time for her, no time for me ... Relying on others to sort the boring stuff out, never getting a break ...'

'CHARLIE ... Will you shut up for one moment, please ... I SAID ... I'LL MARRY YOU,' Tilly then shouted, with a wild echo for the last few words.

Suddenly everything stopped, as Charlie's face slowly turned towards the stage. Silence held court across the large table he sat at, in the huge room where a thousand people were collecting at scattered tables and out onto the massive dance floor. He thought he'd heard his name shouted. Then he realised who it was, jumping up and down, on the DJ set in the distance. It was her, and she was being a silly Tilly.

'... CHARLIE KERMAN,' DJ Rocco then confirmed, 'the woman from Old England ... She says ... YES ...'

The crowd below went wild, as people patted his back and congratulated him. The woman had indeed said yes, and actually meant it.

Amazed, ecstatic, proud, Charlie was all those things at once, as he lifted from his seat and walked towards the DJ's stage. As he hit the edge of the dance floor the strangest thing happened.

Overhead lights dimmed as the lasers took on a slower rotation, fanning side to side, up then down, their rainbow colours all directed to one spot, the huge glitter ball slowly descending from the darkened ceiling. Once on target, they splintered a million shards of dazzling light over the raised faces of a thousand party people. Charlie's birthday was about to melt his one year older mind.

She came walking through the parting crowd, and she looked breath-taking. She wasn't in her clubbing kit anymore, oh, no, she was in a long, black, dress-dream come true. The dark gems sparkled as the drum and bass faded into a different melody. It was soft and floating, as if strands of her silver hair, and it was a tune he knew, an instrumental they wrote together, as a team. Everyone in the room felt that music, and what was to follow would only make Charlie love that woman more.

From behind her back, and held in her left hand, came a red rose. Her right hand then followed round, which was holding a microphone. As Charlie watched on, a chair appeared for him to take. As he looked at it and then back at Tilly, the microphone lifted before her.

'Darling, take a seat, please ... There's something I need to say ... And it's all about you,' she smiled, looking at her man and then away, out over the vast crowd, crushed together to watch it unfold, Dev included.

'First up ... Happy birthday, baby,' she enthused to everyone, their roared reply enough to make your ears ache a little.

Charlie wriggled into a more comfortable position, a fresh drink being handed to him. He smiled as he looked around the circle of faces, all known from now and then.

'Ladies and gentlemen ... Charlie Kerman ... What a legend,' she smiled, as the crowd went wild again and she handed Charlie the reddest of roses.

She took her fresh drink from Dev before she continued with, 'I love you more than you'll ever know ... You are my sunny day and my starry night, you take me up and never down ... You help me to be my very best, and you are my reason for being ...'

Tilly slowly moved forward, nearer and nearer, so she was right up close, her face close enough to kiss. So he did, just quickly like, a small smacker on the lips, but nothing too hard. Tilly giggled and moved away from him again.

'All this is for you, my darling, for your birthday and for being who you are,' she softly said. Smiling slowly she continued with, 'I found you ... In all the world, I found you, and I'm not letting you go, not now, oh, no ... I love you, Charlie Kerman, I always have, but I couldn't tell you back then because of silly reasons ... That's all in the past ... Now we can have it how we want it ... All I want is you, that's all I've ever wanted ... You're the one, Charlie ... Just you ...'

Features softened as she walked the space between them, her little speech enough to render most quiet. Her pretty face turned to the man in question. He was all smiles and sparkly eyes, and all she ever really needed.

'Anyway ... On a regular basis you ask me to marry you, and it's been a few times now, I'm not sure how many exactly, but I always blank it, somehow, or simply change the subject ... Okay, I've given you the run around, but there's not another man that does for me what you do, and I won't go into that now, but you know what I mean,' she tittered, the sound wavering through those stood around them.

'So, with that being said ... Charlie Kerman ... I'd be proud to be your wife ...'

Tilly turned on the spot as she spoke to all who had attended and made their night such a special one. Their voices lifted in a chorus of cheers, their hands just as high.

'Dear friends and family, and all you other lot,' she smiled, 'please, let me hear it ... Come on, give it up, and cheer like hell, for Charlie Kerman ... Birthday boy and Groom-to-Be ... Yeah ...'

If Charlie sits in a quiet room, he can still hear the sound of that cheer lifting to those blackened rafters, the ones with the laser lights sparking off them, a true rainbow in the dark. He also sees the love of his life loving life, for there was to be so little left to love.

Sadness might have cast a shadow, but he didn't let it, he would never let it. He stashed it away, hiding it until he was alone in the office or the studio. There it would flood from him, big gusts, breaking and choking, taking him to his knees, as low as he could go. Having it and wasting all that precious time, yeah, for Charlie, that was the biggest kick in the nuts.

The volume of the music increased as the microphone was taken away from Tilly and Charlie was asked to stand. With their love story theme playing in the background, the space around them slowly became bigger.

Tilly stepped towards Charlie, her face as radiant as the light from a dying star, for surly she was. Those eyes of her's, the ones that were a catalogue of stunning sparkles all caught up in a pretty sapphire sun, they rose to cast their spell, and cast it they did.

'Sir ... May I have this dance?' she asked, catching the hem of her long gown, with its loop to be dropped over her wrist.

Charlie was many things at once, but he refused to let that one emotion take over. His heart was bursting, the vision before him enough to want to cry a river and then some.

'Sweetheart, I would dance with you from here to the end of always,' he beamed, not giving in to those watery eyes of his.

And so they danced, him holding her close, her as happy as he'd ever seen her. Around and around, they moved, small steps, slowly, their direction an instinct. Chatting and giggling, they whispered in each other's ears, lips to cheeks, with stars in their eyes. Inseparable and unstoppable, they were a dream team, founded by accident, created to last. As singles they were completely hopeless, as a couple, they were completely together. A match made in heaven, Dev said, and for once in his scrawny life he was right.

The candles guttered on the wooden plinth, and all was calm in the gorgeous attic bedroom. They were laid, peacefully, in each other's arms. Charlie was almost weeping, his face buried in Tilly's hair. Making love like that, so slow and so close, it did it to him every time, the same emotion, a tide, as he looked down at the sweetest of faces.

He was to recover, soon enough, and then roll away onto his back, his eyes still on her. Dark ringlets spread across a pillowcase, the fine silver and chestnut threads highlighted by the flickering on the wall.

Pretty blue eyes swept round and up to look his way, a tempting smile to follow.

'Well, Charlie Kerman, how did you learn to do that with your tongue?' she grinned, her face shifting slightly so she could see him better.

'Chewing gum,' he sniggered. 'No, really ... I used to sit for hours and wind it around my tongue,' he chuckled, the sound pleasant in the warm night air. 'That's all I do ... Like this ...'

So, he demonstrated his tongue twisting technique, as he leant forward and did it to the end of her cute nose. It made her laugh and roll towards him, her head coming to rest on his chest.

While he twiddled with a strand of her hair, she played with the soft fluff on his belly. They were both happy in what they did.

'So,' he lightly enquired, 'have you found a dress yet, one you like?'

His hand softly stroked down the long mass of hair, it was lifted and smelt, the scent of sweet almonds there in an instant.

'Actually, I've decided to have one made ... Then I can have a say in the design and the fabrics ... I know what I want, I just can't find it,' she quietly replied, her face softly brushing against the warm skin near his waist.

'Oh, nice, I like it ... So, is there a colour scheme now, have you chosen one yet?' he asked, wanting to be involved in some way.

Tilly turned her face up to him and smiled. She loved him so much, but sometimes his head was all full of writing a tune, and not taking in the half hour conversation he was meant to be included in. Charlie was lost in music as they say.

'Even when you say you're listening, you're not really listening, are you?' she giggled. 'Charlie, we did this over a month ago ... I wanted red and cream, you insisted on blue and white ... We made a deal and met in the middle, red and white ... Do you remember?'

There seemed a flicker of light appear in his eyes, as though a memory was rising in his mind. Sadly, it was the thin sunlight peeping through the voile strips hanging at the balcony doors.

'Oh, yeah, sure I do,' he mumbled, his eyes not leaving his busy fingers or that glossy strand.

It was there, it's just that he had more important things to think about, like suits and ties, the cars, his speech, and even a honeymoon. That was all packed in there too, being taken into consideration, worked into the plan, and made to happen. Taking time to get it right for the special day was a must. Charlie wasn't going to let her down.

They'd looked at several vast venues, all of which were pretty amazing, but Tilly hated that in your face thing. There was a chateau in France, Tilly didn't like it. There was a quaint little Chapel on a beach in Mexico, but Charlie didn't want it in a Chapel, or in Mexico.

It was as if a huge light bulb flashed on above both their heads, and at exactly the same time. The thought was perfect, in a place everyone knew, it was easy to get to, and they could keep it small and personal, everyone was happy. Could it be the beach house, barefoot in the sand, with that wonderful sunset over the ocean? Yeah, that was it, the perfect location and the perfect venue to get hitched.

Dev walked out into the den at Charlie's. He had everything, he was sure of it, but he checked two more times, just for good measure. Rings in there, speech in there, he was packed and ready to go. All that was left was the still sloshed Groom, who'd taken two hours in the bathroom, trying to get it right, so he said. Dev wasn't sure what he was talking about so had walked away, looking at his watch yet again.

'Wow, I still can't believe it's actually happening, Devs ... Am I mad or is she? I can't decide,' Charlie laughed, walking to the bar, doing his cufflinks as he went. 'Do I look done?' he smiled, pouring them both a quick drink before the car arrived.

'Yeah ... You look cool as fuck ... I like the red guitar cuff jewellery, very you,' Dev smiled, his hands sliding into his pockets as he rolled on his heels.

'Yeah, they're nice, huh! A present from Tilly, for my birthday ... Thought they would suit this black shirt, and they do,' Charlie smiled over his shoulder.

Their silence was comfortable, sipping and thinking. It had been a hell of a path they'd walked together, the places they'd seen and been, the things they'd done, and it was a collection of really good times that was sweetly remembered.

'You got everything?' Dev asked, before the last of his bourbon was poured into his mouth and swallowed.

'Yeah, I think so,' Charlie mumbled, checking the pockets of both his jacket and trousers.

'Okay ... Anything else to do before we go?

'No ... I don't think so ...'

'So ... We're ready then ... We go ...'

They walked slowly to the door as the car pulled in through the gates, their chatter light and concerning the weather. Pulling it open, Charlie stopped and turned back to Dev, his eyes coming up to look at his old friend.

'Hey, thanks for always being there for me, dude ... I didn't want anyone else to be my Best Man, and that's what you are, Dev, my best man, always ... Jeez, we've seen some good times, haven't we? Well, I hope they never end ...'

The two men bear hugged each other, their brotherly love a strong a bond as it ever was. Everything Dev had done was in Charlie's interest, or to save Charlie's love life. Just when he thought it was broken by the Groom, it was lifted from its watery grave to become a love story everyone envied. Dev was pleased with his work. Plus the help from Clive and Cath was mere genius. Without those two conniving alongside him, he surmised, it would never have played out as it had.

Dev looked over at the guy he admired more than most, the friend he knew so well. He knew him well enough to know the sap was in love with an English Rose before Charlie, himself, even knew. He'd seen it, in that look, that tilt of his head when he watched her move. Dev smiled to himself. Charlie had finally seen that which lies within, and had not only fallen for the story, but had also become addicted to a different kind of cover.

'Hey, one last thing before we leave,' Dev clucked, taking his phone from his pocket. 'Our last photo with you as a bachelor ...'

Standing together in the driveway, the mobile lifted to take the selfie of the two friends about to embark on another chapter in life. Their smiles were beaming as they laughed into the warm sunshine, their wrap-rounds down, and their faces ablaze with a different kind of happiness. If Dev didn't know better, for Charlie, he would have said it looked more like contentment.

The short ceremony was performed on the little beach, to the rear of the cottage, looking towards the ocean, and barefoot, as promised. Tilly's gown was to be the dream dress Charlie envisaged her wearing, once seen through a drunken haze. It was floor-length, ivory, off the shoulders, in a light stretchy lace, with a short train to kick out the back. With her delicate spray tan and hair caught up in a cascade of curls, Tilly was a sight to behold.

Charlie knew, as he stood watching her move in the sunlight, there would never be another woman for him. He was in awe, as he stopped then suddenly started breathing again. Clive walked Tilly toward him, her hand an offering as they approached. Then it was just them, no one else. They seemed alone once more, as the rest mumbled along outside their little world.

'You look stunning ... Your hair, the flowers ... Breath-taking, really ... And I could so do you in that dress ... Later, woman,' Charlie smiled.

Passers-by, walking their dogs, stopped to see the small gathering, there in the dunes.

'Why, thank you, Mister Kerman, and you look mighty tasty in your gorgeous shirt and pants combo ... You fill them as nicely as always, and your arse looks lovely from over there ... Nice cufflinks too,' she chuckled, looking at the man who was her whole reason for standing there on such a wonderful day.

Charlie lifted a wrist to expose one. They glinted in the pretty sunlight, the edge, a line of light then gone.

'Yeah, nice, ain't they? ... This really hot chick I know gave them to me ... A gift for all the wild sex we have,' he grinned, with a twinkle in his eyes, which was enough to weaken knees, as one eyebrow rose slightly.

'Guys,' Dev, cut in, 'we can all hear you ... Just so you know,' he smiled, his face turning to the quiet group sat behind them, and the silent Registrar stood before them, her book in hand.

Two heads, Tilly's and Charlie's, quietly turned to look over their shoulders. One word popped out of Tilly, as her bouquet filled hands lifted to cover her scarlet face.

It was, 'Oops!'

After their three week honeymoon, on a private yacht anchored off the Island of Mystique, the routine of life was soon back into action. Charlie was in the studio, from dusk till dawn, and Tilly was writing at home, or working from one of three offices around the city.

Charlie didn't sell his place on the hill, he rented it out at zero cost to Dev, who had always loved the gaff, and was more than happy to see Charlie move into the beach house with his new wife.

Every day the love grew, and every day Tilly saw the changes in herself. Things were speeding up, it wasn't meant to happen so quickly, there was meant to be more time, more time with her husband and her friends, more time to love and be, but it didn't work like that for Tilly, same as it didn't work like that for her Dad.

Over a matter of months, Charlie started to notice it too. There were periods when Tilly would sleep for hours, days if allowed. She stopped going to the gym, she didn't take her long walks along the golden sands, and there was no partying all night long. It was if she were winding down in some way, her body hitting a winter season all of its own. She was receding daily, becoming dormant almost.

When he found her crying, sat on the back steps, he held her and never wanted to let her go. The day she dropped like a stone, in the drive, he carried her to bed and fussed over her for days. That downward slide, everyone had feared, it was slowly pitching itself higher, the gradient change making Tilly's life a little harder as the days slipped by.

Charlie acquired another property. It was set up in the mountainous Rockies, and had views across the range, the miles spreading out before them. Fabulous, it was, free and open to the elements, and gorgeous when covered in a blanket of snow. When they first saw it together, the day Charlie sealed the deal, he could tell Tilly loved it as much as he did. Little did they know, eventually it would be the place they would retire to for the rest of someone's life. Time was not waiting for Tilly, and this she knew too.

### ~

Thick snow fell in the night, the mountains suddenly trapped in their suspended animation. The trees, once tall green giants, wore their fluffy white coats as they stood waiting for spring. Tilly was listening to KerKaine on the turntable, and it was pumping just how she liked it. She loved that baseline, drums, and guitar riff. She thought their older stuff was stonking, what a fabulous formula they had. She hoped they never lost that.

There was about eighteen inches of white stuff, in a drift, on the decking outside the den doors. Tilly was sat cross-legged on the floor, looking at the cross section view of it. It was amazing how it could be so dense but still radiate so much light, it almost had a diamond cut quality to it, the sun making it sparkle.

Charlie was right, they did have to live there to appreciate it properly, and it was one hell of a place. Settling into their temporary home in the mountains was a far cry from the beach house, miles away. Yet the Rockies were enough to hypnotize Tilly, and they were rather beautiful in their vastness, the line starting in Alaska and running all the way down to Colorado.

Luckily for her, a well-padded Charlie had been all dynamic that morning and was out shifting snow. So far, after two joints, he's managed the decking, three quarters of the way round the huge cabin, the main steps at the front, plus a path round to the ones at the back. He'd already started clearing those down and had just shouted for a special coffee. Yes, black, two sugars and a huge shot of Jack. He loved them, it was a great way to keep warm and he needed it out there, it was minus fifteen without the wind-chill factor.

'Sunny, but cold as Santa's nuts on his sleigh,' Charlie had commented through the door, mainly meaning it was better seen from behind their warm triple-glazing.

Tilly believed him, and that was why she was inside, keeping warm with the snugly blankets, while he was out there, stoned off his nut, clearing away the snow. Bless him.

The kettle boiled.

'There you are ... You coming in yet?' she asked through the kitchen window.

Charlie made hand signals from the top of the steps, referring to his drink and suggesting she roll him another joint. His last movements were his palms together, as if praying, whilst he attempted puppy dog eyes.

Her reply was lifting a coffee and taking a swig.

'Your drink ... Is here, ready ...'

She put it down then raised an already rolled joint to her lips and lit it.

'... And your joint ... Is here, waiting ...'

She smiled as she took a big pull and exhale, slowly.

'... And they're both very nice, too,' she mouthed with a stoned grin, her eyes lazily half drooped.

Laughing, as the look on his face changed to a 'you bugger' frown, Tilly carried on her indulgence. Frantically, he scooped snow out of the way to get across the deck to the doors, while all the time Tilly watched, supposedly smoking his joint and drinking his coffee.

'Hey, that ain't fair,' he laughed, as he barged into the kitchen and she turned away, a coffee in one hand, raised away from him, and the joint between her smiling lips.

'Mine, mine, mine,' she chirped, trying not to show her amusement.

'Arh, honey, come on, can't ya see your man's frozen to the core, here. Give them up ... Please,' he pleaded, his face slowly starting to warm up.

'Yours are there, baby, behind you, on the side,' she smiled, still turned away in fear of her's being stolen.

He turned and, there, awaiting his arrival, was his coffee and his very own joint. He looked back at her with a smile before walking over to indulge himself.

'I knew I married you for a reason ... Now I remember what it was,' he chuckled over his shoulder, the sparkle in his eyes a wonderful sight to see.

Charlie noticed the changes in Tilly, of course he did. She'd catch him watching her in the bathroom, in the bedroom, in the library. He'd hold her gaze, as the light in his eyes changed slightly, and then he'd turn away, lost in thought. There was no crushing her to him anymore. Maybe he feared he'd break her should he do so. He said things he hadn't said for a long time, and she was glad he was remembering the memories they shared. He reminded her of so many moments lived, the dreams they always were, that loveliest waste of time, but then it wasn't all wasted.

If she remembers and Charlie remembers then that's the main thing. What he gave her saved her in so many ways, and he did it still. Just by closing her eyes she could see and hear him there, on stage, crowd going mental, lasers flashing passed, the dirty guitar sound, the thumping drum and bass beats, the pose, the voice, the whole gorgeous thing. How she loved to see him shine.

She wasn't stupid, she knew her time was wearing thin and it felt like she'd done it all before. Next in line was the last chapter, and she was trying to hold onto it for as long as she could.

It was half the reason she didn't stray far from Charlie. He asked her if she wanted to go back to England or to the beach house, but she declined. Maybe nearer the time she'd change her mind, but just then, she wanted to be there, with him, alone.

Those moments together were their farewell, and they knew it. He was never far and she became uncomfortable if he was out of sight for too long, it was as if her eyes needed to feast on him while they still could. Understandable, she would watch him as he watched her. Sat in the soft light of dawn she would trace his features into her memory. There is never enough time to take it all in, a fact, sad but true, and you never know when it will all just stop.

'Bloody hell, I know they're here ... I know they're here, somewhere, I know they are ... Where the hell did I put them?'

Pulling another draw open in the games room, its contents fall to the floor, paperwork, sharpeners, pens, lip balms. Her frantic search looked more like they'd been burgled, the prize yet to be found.

Tilly had been looking for about an hour and it still felt as if she was about to run out of time. She'd already trashed the den, shelves ravished and littered photos a mosaic across the hardwood flooring. So she returned to the games room when she couldn't find them there. They had to be in a drawer somewhere, she couldn't believe she'd misplaced something so precious.

Charlie entered the room behind her.

'... Honey, why does the den looks like ... Lordy, Momma, woman, have ya gone loco?'

He hurried over to where she was about to start on another draw, and caught her hand before its contents was strewn out with the others.

'... Honey, stop, please ... Now ... Tell me ... What ya lookin for, huh!' he whispered.

Tilly's teary eyes turned to his concerned face. She was too frantically searching to realise he'd come to rest on his haunches next to her. His hand on her's brought her back to the room. He softly repeated his words as he studied the look in her eyes.

'I can't find them, Charlie ... The photos of my Dad ... I've lost them ... Help me to look, please, I need them ... I need them now ...'

'You've lost something,' he replied under his breath, which Tilly ignored as she started ripping books and papers from a cupboard in the dresser.

'Look, Honey,' he smiled, 'they ain't here ... I put them somewhere safe for ya, remember? ... Come and sit on the couch and I'll go get em, okay,' he continued, worried she'd turn the whole place upside-down.

'Where did you put them, Charlie? ... Where?' she softly demanded from her spot in the debris, as a pile of stuff slid from its precarious heap beside her. 'You know I always leave them in the same place so I don't lose them ... Why did you move them, why?' she demanded.

'Ya asked me to put them somewhere safe,' he almost laughed, 'so I did ... They're in the safe in the office ... I did it weeks ago ... Don't you remember?'

Silence washed into the space around her, cold and clammy. At the same time she felt the blood drain from her face, as she sat working his words through her memory. Tilly tried, real hard, but she just couldn't remember saying that, and that was not good.

She came to the conclusion that addictions hit us in one of two ways. We'll either spread out our high, thereby having it at hand over a length of time, or, like Tilly, we'll have it all at once, thereby being out of our face, nicely, for at least twenty-four hours. She preferred her way best. It was done and dusted, over one weekend and, man, what an awesomely great weekend it was. Add a bottle of Jack to the mix and she was over the moon, as high as an angel on stardust.

Her writing was the same in a way, only in reverse of her pot habit, but it was still an addiction, and one she'd had for years. She loved doing it. She loved losing herself in a story, a memory or a journey. To be able to express a feeling, a vista, a moment trapped in time, to know the words, and to use them wisely.

Not everyone will like the outcome of how a final manuscript is presented, but you don't have to make all of the people happy all of the time. Of course, if you can, it helps. Her work was along those lines and had its own high too. Writing to such elevated standards became a high in itself. She could imagine it didn't quite compare to the one Charlie had, as he walked onto the stage of a packed stadium. Still, his high was just the same as her's, being high is being high, whether that's on life or love, it's all a high. We even get one from our morning tea and afternoon coffee, it's how we kick-start our hearts.

She finally managed to finish her piece of poetry, probably her last. It was funny how words came to her as she sat, thinking about something completely different. Charlie read it and turned quiet on her. He walked from the den and slunk off to the library, alone. He didn't return.

Tuesday was a day of solemn faces, drawn out silences, and one word answers. It was all the rainy-day hearts, another mountain to climb, the end of the era, and the end of a chapter. Together, they saw their day drizzle by. Neither of them strayed as heads shook in denial, the same thoughts returning again. He held her hand and kissed her fingers. He watched with eyes that oozed sympathy as his slow smile hid his tears. Another day was sent to test her, and test her it would.

Tilly ambled from the kitchen as Dev, Charlie, Sam and Pins stood, mumbling a conversation. They were too busy talking to see her walk away, but she didn't mind, no, really, she didn't. Leaving the chatter and quiet laughter behind, she moved into the games room to get another drink, three shots in her glass over a cube of ice.

Turning, she picked up the stereo remote and flicked onto the usual mellow mix channel. As the lyrics to Arms, by Christina Perri, took her back to Charlie appearing at her hotel to take her to his, she moved to the wall of windows.

Far Away, by Nickelback, replaced it with enough emotion to push her nearer to tears. Sad eyes lifted to the sky as they closed, slowly, hoping the warm salt water would seep back into her. It didn't, instead it ran two separate lines to each of her ears.

The fingers down the back of her arm startle her from her train of thought. Turning, she found Charlie standing there, all twinkly eyes and boyish grin.

'May I have this dance?' he asked, taking her hand and stepping back a little so as to nod a bow.

'Why, sir, you most certainly may,' she smiled, putting down her drink, wiping away the salty streaks, and walking into his waiting arms.

As soon as they closed around her, her eyes shut and she was lost in the feel and scent of him. With her mind awash with a myriad of memories, they turned, slowly, in little more than circles, the song telling them its story. It didn't matter if it only lasted a few minutes, that was all they needed, held there, in that tiny space, and away from prying eyes, where whole worlds awaited their end. She smiled as she thought, finally, she was home.

Tilly came round to Cantilena seeping through the corridor in her mind, she floated in the soft climb of notes, as though a flock of swans were lifting from a looking-glass lake, and then to recede into the distance, taking flight, a collection of snow-white souls. The cello chimed in, she felt it through the cavern of her memories. There she hung, her senses drawing her awake, her eyes lifting as the dawn rose in the melody.

She looked at the clock, two hours, was that it? She removed her headphones to hear Charlie breathing, softly, in the darkness, his arm across her waist, the anchor in her sea of slumber. Reaching down, she lifted it, hoping it wouldn't wake him.

He grunted and rolled away, lost in a dream of his own making. With what little strength she realised she still had, she slid her legs off the edge of the bed, and sunk her toes into the warmed deep pile rug. Something was pulling her outside, and she had to go and see what it was.

Still sat, she pulled on her robe, the thick purple fleece an instant comfort. Suddenly she had some weight to her. Testing her balance, she slowly raised herself and tried the few steps to the wall. Well, she didn't crash over onto her arse so that must be a good thing.

Turning back to the bed, she stepped over and pulled her pillow down to fill her space. Something told her to do it, she didn't know why. From the glow of the nightlight in the hall, she walked the edge of the bed, coming to rest, stood looking down at Charlie. He was funny when he was asleep, face all screwed up, hair a mess all over the place. She loved it.

Kissing her fingers she touched them to his forehead, a smile appearing across his lips as she brushed his curls to one side.

She smile and whispered, 'Charlie, you gorgeous nutter, I love you so much ... I'm a very lucky lady, and I know it ... Thank you for being you ...'

She straightened and turned towards her exit, mere paces away, yet it was a distance that could have been a whole mile or more. Determination is what got her through it and down the hall to the den. Standing in the gloom, her ears alerted to the silence, the drone becoming a cold shroud. Looking down, she watched as her shadow danced away from her.

Blue eyes followed it to the door and out onto the snow covered decking. Pulling on Charlie's snow boots, she deactivated the locking system and opened the double-doors to the freezing night air. In one second, all the warmth, that had until that point cocooned her, was vaporized as if overthrown by some chilling invader. The silence, a brittle thing, rested in folds across a numbed landscape.

Stepping outside, she tentatively moved onto the crunching wood below her feet to be greeted by the quiet night. A noise to her left suggested an over laden branch had dumped its burden to the ground, the thump its biggest clue. Tilly knew it was really, really, cold, but standing here, like that, it was amazing. The air was so sharp and so clean. The tops of her ears ached, along with the fronts of her thighs, her nose, and her chin. Hot lungs almost refused to accept the intake, but become too desperate to go without. It was making her eyes water, and when she blinked her eyeballs were cold orbs set in her skull.

Pulling the doors shut behind her, she moved, step by tentative step, to lean on the balustrade and look into the darkness with a loud, echoed sigh. The stars were burning so bright in the heavens, the toenail clipping of a moon floating amongst them. One day, she thought, Charlie and she might even join them to make a little light all of their own. Wouldn't that be wonderful? To be forever there and always seen, to guide, to be dreamt over, to be a part of the heavens themselves. What an honour that would be, a diamond in the crown of the night, fabulous.

Was that why she had been pulled from her bed, to see that, her world as nature intended? Was she allowing herself one last look at the beauty she adored? If that was the case, then she was very proud to stand there and witness such a glorious sight.

She heard the doors before she heard the soft voice.

'Sweet holy hound dogs, honey, what the hell you doing out here? ... You'll freeze to death, you crazy woman ...'

Charlie moved in from behind and wrapped a fleece blanket around her shoulders. He'd stolen one from the couch on passing.

'It wanted me to see it ... As it is now ... Maybe for the last time ... So I remember ... It doesn't want me to forget it, Charlie ... And I don't want to forget ... Not ever ...'

Her warm tears hovered on the rims of her cold eyes. 'Can you understand that?' she whispered in laboured breaths over her shoulder, her strength suddenly a thing of the past.

'Yeah, honey, I understand, but next time, please wrap-up like it's minus twenty-five, okay? Let me just remind you, this ain't no summer evening ...'

He smiled, the only warmth to be felt in that ice covered world, and caught her before she went down. Getting one last glimpse of her silent night, she was swept up and away, into the warmth of within, her spot of stargazing over.

Where did the time go, the same place as her strength. She was little more than a shadow. Charlie carried his paper doll to, and from, the bedroom, her dwindled frame, a skeleton below her transparent skin. She spent her last days writing, sat in her daybed, a superb gift from Clive, Cath and her lovely Charlie. She could see out over the white world from there, where the sky sat above, clear blue, with birds, tiny specks, soaring free, and not a cloud in sight to spoil her view.

Charlie insisted a Nurse come in every day. Her name was Janey and she was very nice, reminding Tilly of an old friend back on home turf. She also spoilt Tilly with morphine and meds when the pain was really bad, and she loved her for that small relief too. If she was really good, Janey would pop a double Jack in her last coffee, it helped to cushion her night of little sleep. She bantered as she moved around Tilly, the sound, a calming tone, was light and happy and always welcome.

Charlie was in the studio. He and the guys were finishing the last bits and pieces to some project or other. It was good he had that one escape, he was lucky to have it, and Tilly was sure he would agree. She took little notice, being lost in her own morphine induced world.

She heard muffled voices behind her, but didn't make the effort to turn and look. Her eyes stayed fixed on the view before her, the one she would never tire of. Charlie, stepping softly into her vision, made her eyes drop from the sky to rest on his lovely face. She would never tire of studying those high cheekbones, the low brow line, or those stunning eyes either. She grinned up at him, slowly.

'How's my beautiful girl doing today, then?' he asked, his eyes coming alight with a smile. 'Janey thought ya'd fallen asleep ... I didn't want to wake you if ya had,' he said, as he gently lowered himself into the space at her side.

'I'm doing okay, honey ... Tired ... But okay otherwise ... How ya doing outback? Nearly done?' she asked with a voice that was dry and quiet.

'Yeah, we're gettin there ... Got some nice stuff comin together ... If the guys are happy, I'm happy, you know me, baby ... But what about you? ... You need anything, a coffee, a joint, a kiss even?' he chuckled.

'Thanks, but it's no to the coffee or joint ... But a kiss, you say ... Most definitely, please,' she replied, her smile still hanging there.

'Now, that I can do,' he whispered, leaning over enough for their lips to meet. 'Better?' he asked, as he pulled away. 'If ya a real good girl, you can have a few more, later,' he grinned, his eyebrows moving up and down, quickly.

Janey's voice cut in with a giggle, 'Don't ya go gettin my poor little patient all excited over ya promises, Mister Kerman ... Ya know how she gets ... And all cuz ya keep coming in here an beating her poor face with ya lips ... Please, be careful with her, she's a fragile little thing, as well ya know.'

'Yeah, I know just how damn fragile she really is, Janey ... Don't you turn your back on her for a damn second ... She'll be off this bed and runnin for the slopes before you even know she's gone,' he laughed over the top of Tilly's head. 'She's quicker that a shithouse rat, I'm tellin ya ... So, don't ya let her looks be deceiving ya, now ... Otherwise ya'll only have yaself to blame when ya find she's already made a shoot for it ...'

His laugh lit up the space before her and she was truly home.

'What?' he chuckled, looking at her admiring gaze, so lost in him, she was.

'Honey, sing me a song ... Any song, please,' Tilly smiled slowly, her eyes still on her prize.

'Any song, huh ...'

His eyes drifted away as he thought for a moment, pulling a funny thinking face as he usually did. Eventually, he chuckled to himself, before looking back at the woman he loved more than music. With the low sunlight to the side to his lovely face, he started to softly sing.

'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine ... You make me happy when skies are grey ... You'll never know, dear ... How much ... I love you ...'

Suddenly, his voice faltered, his tears on the verge of escape.

'... Please ... Don't take ... My sunshine ... Away ...'

The last of his words were almost spoken, and were offered with the sweetest of smiles, yet the saddest of eyes.

Tilly heard them say not long now, their eyes ablaze with sadness for the wretch that sat before them. It reeked of apology when there was nothing more they could do. It made the air in the room heavy for a moment, as if time had to stop while the words sank in. Their eyes met as they pulled a face and shrugged their shoulders. There wasn't much she could say to that, really, was there?

At the end of the day that was all she was waiting to hear, at least she could put her house in order, prepare Charlie, and prepare herself. She could also stop taking all those horrid tablets, day and night. Suddenly, she was free, and her rubbish heart could do as it pleased. It had always been her heart, her silly Tilly broken heart.

So, remember to make a wish for Tilly on that allusive feather you may see riding a warm summer breeze. When you experience a beautiful spring morning, and see a daydream within a cloud, have Tilly in mind as you smile that secret smile and, when it snows, see her there, silly red snowsuit and crazy angels. If you see those, she'll always be here, just a memory away.

The dreamer drifted back into herself, looking out of the window at the pale blue sky. The sun was just about still holding court as her watery eyes blinked and released their silly tears. Charlie was watching her, as she lazily reached over and picked up her mobile phone. With a joint caught between her lips, she typed a message with one eye squinted shut.

'The sun is shining, I'm in excellent company, and I have a glass of Champagne raised for you ... Sorry I didn't get back for your birthday, Mum ... Love you x,' she tapped in.

Tilly paused, once, before entering the almost forgotten English mobile number. Looking at it with a smile, she pressed send. She waited to hear the bleep and then turned, slowly, to place it back on the glass top coffee table. Her eyes then shifted to her perfect view, staring into the distance. If she wanted a poetic ending with a fabulous sunset, well, she was about to get it. Lost within her last moments, she snatched at breaths ... That become ... Slower and slower ... Her heart beat ... A gentle patter.

Charlie saw and moved to her side, the panic evident on his face. In short gasps, her hand searched him out, frantic to be held tightly. Tears filled eyes as a husband and close friends drew nearer, the sobs kept to their bare minimum. Vows were randomly recited in hushed voices, tears were kissed away, and love reaffirmed. Fingers touched cheeks, lips touched lips, arms held tightly as a heart slowly stopped beating. It was then that the pain ended for one, but started afresh for another. It was time to let go of a treasured soul, and it was time for a lost heart to break.

A thousand miles away sat a dark storage area in a warehouse. On a shelf, in a basket, along with thirty others, and abandoned by their former owners, sat the only light seen. The little mobile bleeped rec'd message, the sound a sad echo lost to the gloom. The light was held there for a few seconds, hoping someone might see it. When it established that it really was alone, its little light dimmed, then went out, forever.

### ~

She was walking down a deserted street in a dirty and neglected city, the sky a beautiful blue and the sun a ball of gold, hanging way up high. Wearing her usual sleeper vest and shorts, there was nothing on her feet, and her waist length hair was held, still, in its bedtime braid. Blinds were flapping in the openings, where glass used to be, as the wind whipped up a tune through strewn furniture.

There was no music, no voices and no cars, she was all there was. Walking the long street, with its high-rises creating a silent corridor, she stopped at a T-junction. Halting in the middle, she looked left, then right, but still the silence. She knew why she was there. She was there to take her stand on her ledge, high above her, with her face to the sun.

It was there she needed to be, as she walked over to the building's warm exterior to start her climb. Her eyes were focused on that ledge, and with every hand pass she made, she inched nearer her goal. The bigger her smile became, the faster her hands and feet worked together to get her there. The distance from the ground was enough to blow a stray strand of hair across her eyes, but she laughed at the inconvenience of it. What did it matter anyway?

When she reached her allotted spot, her elbows were over first and then her torso, then a knee next, and then the rest of her. Almost crawling up the wall behind her, she came to a standstill, directly above the junction, with the derelict city spread out before her.

Wow, in the time it had taken her to climb, the sun had moved round to shine the last of its rays down the street she'd walked. From there, her view was amazing, almost as good as the one from her mountain far away.

She heard his voice on the wind, calling lowly.

'Till-lly ...'

Her head snatched round, the sound a whisper to her ear. His voice came again but clearer.

'Come on, silly ... It's time to go home ... You coming?' came the distant holler.

'... HANG ON, WAIT FOR ME,' she shouted. '... HEY, DAD, DON'T LEAVE ME BEHIND ... THAT'S JUST MEAN ...'

Standing on the very edge, toes poking over a little, her face ablaze with the sunniest of smiles, she spread out her arms and swallow dived from her pedestal, high up on that building's face. Dropping like a brick, she laughed as the world rushed up and passed her.

Just as it would seem she should hit the deck with catastrophic results she, indeed, did lift and take to the pale blue sky above her. She felt the cold wind tugging at her flesh, as she climbed as high as the invisible clouds. She was on fire, blazing her own twisting vapour trail across the blue, her laughter lost to the speed of flight.

Her eyes watered, but from tears of joy and the chill to her cheeks. That was her Cinderella ending, that was her finally coming alive, and she couldn't have thought of a nicer way to go, flying straight into the most stunning of sunsets.

### The End

About the Author

Tam Sturgeon doesn't actually live anywhere, preferring to be a Nomad for life. Born in High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire (England), she has spent a majority of her years moving from one place to another looking for the perfect home. Married and divorced, twice, she roams and then settles wherever she sets down her cowboy hats and bipolar condition. She has sculptured words for over thirty years and has written eight novels (4 x love story, 3 x zomiefest, and 1 x sci-fi) in the last ten. Words are her first love, (after her son, of course), which are then closely followed by music, art and Jack Daniel's. She is currently still based in England ... But that could change anytime soon.

