The Actor: Celebrity Romance based on a True Story PREVIEW

Chapter 4

[RECAP: Eloise was asked out on a date by a famous Actor, which means she has to get her friend to cover for her and travel to London by herself at night...]

I was pretty sure he smiled at me when they did the curtain call but I couldn't be sure. By then I had another dilemma. Should I wait for him in the foyer or go backstage again? In the end I decided the foyer might be too public, so I made my way around the building to the stage door.

There were quite a few people waiting there that night. A couple had autograph books. I didn't want to just barge past them so I murmured: "Sorry, I have an appointment" as I walked up to the old man at the door, getting a few looks and remarks as I did so. "Yeah, right." "You wish, love." "Can't people wait their turn?" And so on.

At the door I simply said: "I think Mr Astwell may be expecting me?" and the old bloke, whose name I later found out was Harry, gave me a broad grin and a nod.

"I remember you. Gerard Gordon's niece, isn't it?" He let me through, and I hoped the people at the front of the line heard, because it sounded more legitimate to be connected to the theatre world instead of just some girl meeting an actor.

The Actor had already wiped off his greasepaint and had changed out of his costume when I entered. It had taken a while to shuffle out of the theatre and through the crowds in the lobby and so on, but he still must have been pretty quick. He looked incredibly suave and handsome in a shirt, grey jacket and trousers. I hoped I was smart enough with what I was wearing.

"Eloise. I'm so glad you could come," he greeted me. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me, or I thought he did.

"Thank you for the tickets. I'm afraid I only used one," I told him.

He smiled. "That's no problem. Did you enjoy it a second time?"

"Yes, very much. The seats were amazing, it was like getting a totally different view. Like a whole new performance," I tried to explain.

He understood and was gratified. "Good. How was the journey up?"

"Fine. Just the train, you know. It's direct."

"Well, thank you for coming all this way. Now, how about that drink?"

I was more hungry than thirsty but I didn't want to say this, so I just said it sounded great.

He had to go through the stage door, of course, and he was very charming to the people waiting there, signing a couple of autographs then making polite excuses that he was in a terrible rush, but hoped they had all enjoyed the show. I felt curious eyes on me, and it was a novel and odd feeling. I wasn't yet sure whether I liked it or not.

"We'll take a cab," he said. "Escape the hordes around here."

"Hordes?" I asked as a black London taxi pulled up almost immediately - there were loads of them around - and he opened the door for me to get in.

"Tourists. Fellow luvvies. We'll get pestered." He was joking, but I secretly wouldn't have minded.

He directed the cab to some place in Mayfair. I couldn't tell from the name if it was a bar or a club or whatever, but I was mainly freaking out at Mayfair. It's one of the most expensive places in London. Right at the top of the Monopoly board, along with Knightsbridge. I would have to drink one mineral water and pray I had enough money to cover it.

When we got there it was up some steps, and the doorman knew him and greeted him by name. "Good to see you, sir."

Inside it was all a bit mind-blowing. It was just a bar, but everyone there looked so smart and elegant and well-to-do. I didn't feel too out of place in my black jeans and top, but you could tell that the "casual" in there was designer casual.