want?’
It was only ordering lunch, but it somehow felt like a trick question. What did I want? I looked down at the menu and I quite fancied a hamburger or perhaps the pie and mash. I’d been so nervous about meeting him I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. I felt like I should stick to a salad or maybe at most a light sandwich on wholegrain bread, but then again, did I want to be that girl? The girl who ate nothing, lost too much weight and ended up in one of those God-awful magazine spreads about actresses who get too thin. They’d somehow find a photo of me before I was famous where I was a stone heavier and say how healthy I looked, and then a new photo of me from a terrible angle where I looked like I hadn’t eaten in six months. The next thing I knew I’d be labelled as bulimic and a bad example to all young girls. There was also the chance I was completely overthinking things and Rhys didn’t give a shit what I ate.
‘Burger and chips please,’ I said and I noticed the look on his face. ‘Sorry, what should I have ordered? The side salad? Soup? A glass of water?’
‘No, not at all. I was just thinking how refreshing it is to be with someone like you.’
‘A complete pig?’
‘No, an actress who eats real food, doesn’t get all mental and stick thin at the first sight of success and looks absolutely stunning just as she is.’
His Welsh accent turned me to jelly and I went a deep shade of burgundy, which was bad enough, but became worse because Rhys noticed straight away. He smiled at me and I didn’t know where in the world to look. I excused myself and went to the toilet while he ordered.
‘What kind of actress do you want to be?’ said Rhys when we were tucking into our food.
‘When I was young and fresh out of university I wanted to be just like Kate Winslet. Picking and choosing great roles, powerful roles in cool indie films, but my last audition was for a dead person in Casualty . So, to answer your question, anything.’
‘After this film, let’s hope you won’t have to play any more dead people.’
‘Oh, I didn’t get it. Apparently, I didn’t look quite dead enough,’ I said and Rhys burst out laughing.
Sitting with Rhys and going through the script over countless cups of coffee was like a dream come true. It was the life I’d always craved and I had to pinch myself; I was actually living it. During the three hours we sat talking, drinking and getting to know one another, a few young girls came by and asked for his autograph. He was polite and affable and had his photograph taken with a smile. I sat in my seat feeling like the luckiest girl in London. Somehow I was sharing lunch with Britain’s most eligible bachelor and Heat magazine’s hunkiest bloke of the year. It was almost five o’clock when we finally stood up to leave.
‘Fancy a drink? I’m meeting a couple of mates in Soho,’ said Rhys, putting on his jacket.
‘I shouldn’t.’
‘Which means you will, right?’
It meant I shouldn’t. Jack would be home from his mum’s already and what would I say to him? Just popping out for a drink with Rhys Connelly and some of his mates in Soho, you don’t mind, do you? I’m sure given his already frosty reaction to my sex scenes with Rhys and his general ill-feeling towards the film he wouldn’t appreciate me having a drink with him too. Just as I was on the verge of saying no and slouching off home to Jack, something stopped me. He had no right to be jealous. I’d done nothing wrong and if he couldn’t be happy for me then that was his fault.
‘I’d love to,’ I said and we walked out of the café and straight into a paparazzi ambush. No sooner had we left the café than four cameras were taking our photo and questions were shouted at us two at a time. Who’s your friend, Rhys? Is she your girlfriend? What’s your name, love? Where you going, Rhys? What did you have to eat, Rhys? What did you eat, love? Is that a Mulberry handbag? What film you doing
It was only ordering lunch, but it somehow felt like a trick question. What did I want? I looked down at the menu and I quite fancied a hamburger or perhaps the pie and mash. I’d been so nervous about meeting him I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. I felt like I should stick to a salad or maybe at most a light sandwich on wholegrain bread, but then again, did I want to be that girl? The girl who ate nothing, lost too much weight and ended up in one of those God-awful magazine spreads about actresses who get too thin. They’d somehow find a photo of me before I was famous where I was a stone heavier and say how healthy I looked, and then a new photo of me from a terrible angle where I looked like I hadn’t eaten in six months. The next thing I knew I’d be labelled as bulimic and a bad example to all young girls. There was also the chance I was completely overthinking things and Rhys didn’t give a shit what I ate.
‘Burger and chips please,’ I said and I noticed the look on his face. ‘Sorry, what should I have ordered? The side salad? Soup? A glass of water?’
‘No, not at all. I was just thinking how refreshing it is to be with someone like you.’
‘A complete pig?’
‘No, an actress who eats real food, doesn’t get all mental and stick thin at the first sight of success and looks absolutely stunning just as she is.’
His Welsh accent turned me to jelly and I went a deep shade of burgundy, which was bad enough, but became worse because Rhys noticed straight away. He smiled at me and I didn’t know where in the world to look. I excused myself and went to the toilet while he ordered.
‘What kind of actress do you want to be?’ said Rhys when we were tucking into our food.
‘When I was young and fresh out of university I wanted to be just like Kate Winslet. Picking and choosing great roles, powerful roles in cool indie films, but my last audition was for a dead person in Casualty . So, to answer your question, anything.’
‘After this film, let’s hope you won’t have to play any more dead people.’
‘Oh, I didn’t get it. Apparently, I didn’t look quite dead enough,’ I said and Rhys burst out laughing.
Sitting with Rhys and going through the script over countless cups of coffee was like a dream come true. It was the life I’d always craved and I had to pinch myself; I was actually living it. During the three hours we sat talking, drinking and getting to know one another, a few young girls came by and asked for his autograph. He was polite and affable and had his photograph taken with a smile. I sat in my seat feeling like the luckiest girl in London. Somehow I was sharing lunch with Britain’s most eligible bachelor and Heat magazine’s hunkiest bloke of the year. It was almost five o’clock when we finally stood up to leave.
‘Fancy a drink? I’m meeting a couple of mates in Soho,’ said Rhys, putting on his jacket.
‘I shouldn’t.’
‘Which means you will, right?’
It meant I shouldn’t. Jack would be home from his mum’s already and what would I say to him? Just popping out for a drink with Rhys Connelly and some of his mates in Soho, you don’t mind, do you? I’m sure given his already frosty reaction to my sex scenes with Rhys and his general ill-feeling towards the film he wouldn’t appreciate me having a drink with him too. Just as I was on the verge of saying no and slouching off home to Jack, something stopped me. He had no right to be jealous. I’d done nothing wrong and if he couldn’t be happy for me then that was his fault.
‘I’d love to,’ I said and we walked out of the café and straight into a paparazzi ambush. No sooner had we left the café than four cameras were taking our photo and questions were shouted at us two at a time. Who’s your friend, Rhys? Is she your girlfriend? What’s your name, love? Where you going, Rhys? What did you have to eat, Rhys? What did you eat, love? Is that a Mulberry handbag? What film you doing
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