On the other side of me, Clara stands up suddenly. ‘Wait,’ she says loudly, causing some Great-Aunts to start with their tutting again, ‘everyone just hold on!’ She looks stricken, her face pale.
‘Er, holding,’ I say mildly, as Harry stands up too, coming over and touching Clara on the arm.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asks so nicely, with such concern. God, they’re cute.
‘Oh my god,’ Clara mutters. ‘Oh mygod!’ She scrambles for her phone and we collectively look at one another. What’s the matter with her? She jabs at the buttons furiously and looks up at me after a few seconds, wild-eyed. ‘OH MY GOD!’ she says again, even louder this time, and I swallow hard.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask nervously, glancing fearfully around the table at Mum and Angela, who reflect my expression of confusion.
‘Jemma!’ Clara splutters, waving her phone in the air. ‘JEMMA!’
‘What is it?’ Salma asks, sounding exasperated.
Clara crosses the room, getting too close to my face. ‘Jem,’ she says quietly now. ‘It’s fucking Milo Samuels.’
I shake my head. ‘What? What are youtalkingabout?’
‘Eliot!’ she exclaims. ‘It’s him! It’s Milo! It’s theBook Boyfriendactor! That’s probably why he’s been so obsessed with reading that novel in the last year or so! Because he got the part of George and was filming the series. He obviously wanted to re-read the source material over and over.’
She’s mad. She’s completely lost it.
Catching my expression, she groans impatiently. ‘I’m serious, Jem! It’s him! That mum librarian thing rang a bell. I remembered reading an interview with him once wherehe mentioned it. And I just double checked Wikipedia – his full name is Eliot Milo Samuels. He goes by Milo for work, and Eliot at home with his family – whichincludes a brother called Austen!’
I gape at her, her words sinking in. It’s… my note writer… my E is… Eliot is…? No, surely this is nonsense. It’s got to be nonsense! But if it’s true…? Then – oh god! – I gave him such a hard time at that party when I was drunk! I was awful to him, ranting away about him ruining my favourite book. He thought I was mad! And then Ithrew up on himafter the kickboxing. Oh my god. And – even more oh god! – he’s so horribly horribly horribly handsome. This isawful! There’s no way he’ll be interested in me when he sees I’m just a plain old beige civilian.
‘You can’t be right,’ I say in a low voice, my brain buzzing and my heart racing. I try to match the sincere, funny, sweet note writer – Eliot – with the actor we’ve watched on the TV every week. The one we helped Clara chase around London all this time. ‘No,’ I say again, surer this time, my head shaking involuntarily. ‘You’re wrong, you have to be.’
‘No way!’ Salma breathes out beside me. ‘But the drama kid thing… it does make sense!’ She turns to look at me, her whole face alight. ‘I’m interviewing him this afternoon! I’m supposed to be leaving here in a few minutes. I’m heading straight for a hotel where there are interviews happening with the actors from the show. It’s an end of series thing.’ She swallows, her eyes bulging. ‘You have to come! You have tosee him and speak to him. Tell him who you are! You have to tell him, Jem! He thinks you ghosted him!’
‘No!’ I exclaim, unable to find any other words. ‘No, I can’t! If it really is him – if! – then it’s… absurd. It’s stupid! He’d never be interested in me in a thousand years. I’m just a nobody and he’s… oh my god, he’sfamous.’
Harry moves closer. ‘Firstly, Jemma, one British TV series does not really a proper famous make.’ He smiles before continuing, ‘And more importantly, he’d be insanely lucky to be with someone like you. You’ve always put yourself down and you really shouldn’t. You’re my best mate—’
‘I’m her best mate,’ Salma interjects as Clara elbows him.
‘I’m her twin sister,’ Clara huffs, ‘that’s, like, auto best mate.’
‘I really, really don’t like any of you,’ I say as sincerely as I can, and we all burst out laughing.
Harry stops first. ‘Seriously, though, Jem, you’re a major catch and he is going to be so ecstatic to find out it’s you who’s been writing the notes.’
Mum leans across the table. ‘Sweetheart, you absolutelymustgo with Salma!’ She glances at Angela affectionately. ‘Call it our wedding present?’
‘I mean,’ I frown, ‘Ididactually get you a wedding present so—’
‘Come on!’ Salma says impatiently.
‘Yeah, come on!’ Clara says, standing up.
‘Why are you coming?’ I ask and she looks baffled.
‘Are you fucking kidding me? You think I’d miss youpropositioning my famous friend after all I’ve done to bring you two together?’
‘Er, you seem to have that a bit confused,’ I begin, but no one is listening.
‘All of you go!’ Mum calls happily. ‘We’ll stay here with the Great-Aunts and have a romantic lunch just, er, us.’
‘Much cheaper that way,’ Angela says gleefully.
