Local newspapers turning everyday people into ‘celebrities’ is a sub-plot of NAS – and I wonder why more papers don’t do it. Fear of getting sued I should think. But think about it, expose on the vicar and the verger, local football star in affair shocker… it’d work.
*** SPOILER ALERT ***
The camera flashes startled her, but Libby maintained her cool smile as Paolo helped her from the taxi. Several photographers yelled to him, asking for her name. He obliged, but told them nothing more. Together they headed toward the burly doormen, Libby striding out on her highest black heels.
‘You look beautiful. A real star,’ Paolo whispered. ‘You sure you’re in love with the vet and his rural dream? This could be us, being fabulous in London and going to all the best parties…’
She laughed, in her element. Here, she didn’t worry about not having real world curves like Zoë and Grace. Here, she walked amongst neurotic models and size zero actresses. Here, Libby blended in. Tomorrow, the cannier journalists would discover Olivia Wilde was a ballerina, a ballerina who hadn’t danced for four years. Her anonymity would be over and she’d become known as the Broken Ballerina.
Inside the Kensington art gallery, Libby and Paolo drifted around, studying the bizarre paintings and even more bizarre sculptures. Just about everyone they met air-kissed and hugged him. This was Paolo, her destitute ex-boyfriend, who’d lived in more squats than he’d held down real jobs. Now he wore a cutting edge suit and Italian leather shoes. She missed his threadbare jeans and Converse boots.
‘Some art I just don’t get,’ Libby said, frowning at a three dimensional, upside down papier-mâché representation of Van Gogh’s sunflowers. ‘So which is the artist?’
‘Danny’s the guy with the red beehive by the bar.’
Libby giggled. ‘I’m so glad your art is recognisable.’
With his arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist, they looked like the cosy couple they were trying to portray. Both had little to lose from any newspaper inches.
‘You really do look beautiful,’ Paolo said, kissing her shoulder.