In Love with a Superstar Ch. 02

She rolled over in bed feeling very warm and very satisfied. The funny thing was she had always insisted to herself and to close friends that sex was never going to be a huge part of any relationship she found herself in, after all there was kindness, gentleness, understanding and give and take.

But as she lay here with his pillow still warm next to hers, all she could think of was the incredible lovemaking that they had just shared; perhaps when she'd said that she just hadn't known anyone quite so fantastic at it as him. She couldn't get it out of her head and she felt her cheeks burn with just the thought.

Her alarm went off and pushing the duvet to one side she stood and stretched, but stopped as she remembered that the curtains weren't completely shut, a concession to Bruce who was suffering in the humid airlessness of the June night.

She looked around for her nightdress, and recollected that she had hardly worn one since she had known him. She turned on the radio so she could hear it in the bathroom and stepping in the shower ran the water until it was barely hot, before turning the spray full in her face. It was just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

From outside she could hear breaking glass, and thought of her car. Ah well, there wasn't much she could do about it right now so continued her shower as quickly as she could. Within seconds she could smell petrol, Damn! She reeeeally hoped it wasn't her car.

The thing that convinced her to finally step out of the bath was the noise coming from the radio.

Switching the water to the bath taps she stepped out and dried herself with the towel, it seemed as if the radio was screeching at her, but on inspection she realised it was actually the hallway smoke alarm.

A dense smoke cloud and a wall of intense heat was billowing up her staircase and into the tiny landing and she slammed the bathroom door shut instinctively. Her head spinning she tried to think of the escape plan she had worked out when the Fire Brigade had come to the school and told everyone the importance of them and how to make one.

She risked pushing the door opening again and was met with a further wall of thick smoke that curled around the edge of the door as she slammed it for a second time.

The bathroom window was tiny and anyway, it was locked shut by a key that was in the top drawer of her bedside table.

She had no way out and was in a room with no air supply that was getting smokier and hotter with every second. She could taste the horrible acridity in the air, and breathing was becoming more difficult. Should she drop to the floor as there was always a small layer of air trapped down there?

No, she knew would never get up again. The fire must have fused the lights, and she noticed that the noise from the extractor fan above the bath had stopped. It gave her an idea.

She stepped back into the bath again, and put her face to it. A terrific blast of air was being sucking in to feed the flames. Pulling the towel from around her body she held it under the still running taps and soaked it. Next she wrapped it around her head and held it up like a tent over the fan vent and was able to breathe at least. Still the heat was becoming a more of problem, and the running water at her feet suggested another idea. Taking a deep breath she turned, and looking through the thickening smoke, could make out the lever that switched the water flow back to the showerhead. She pushed it over and the water was instantly back on her again. She moved the head slightly so the water would still pour over her at the vent.

Gasping for air she fumbled around for the wet towel she had dropped. With a final desperate effort she found it and put it over her head and was able to breathe again with seconds to spare.

Despite the water from the shower the heat was starting to become a real problem and by the crackling sound, the door was starting to burn on the other side. The fresh air started to smell of smoke and there was a terrible realisation that it was probably pouring out of the down stairs window of Mr Lumsden's living room, straight up in the extractor vent to cut off her oxygen supply.

She spared a thought for Mr Lumsden and hoped that he was OK; dear old Mr Lumsden, the retired School teacher who'd looked out for her, always remembered her birthday and looked after the cat for her when she was away.

The thought that he was downstairs right now, lying on his bed slowly dying, brought her to tears. She even thought about the cat and what a terrible state he must be in. She wept now, crying for her mother and father, and for Caroline. Then Bruce and Cathy, she had only just found them and she knew that she would never see them again.

Misery engulfed her, as the heat from the landing, radiating through the crackling door, became intense, almost too much to bear. There was the sound of breaking glass, must have been the bedroom window blowing with the heat. The local fire station wasn't permanently manned anymore and she remembered reading about the local busybodies starting their petition to keep it open. Part of her wished she had signed it now. How long would she have to wait?

The pain started first on her left shoulder where the water wasn't touching and she cried out loud along with her tears.

There was a loud crunch as the bathroom door gave way, the gently spray of the shower disappeared, and she was conscious of something grabbing her and taking her away from the sanctuary of the vent. She fell into the bath spluttering and fighting for air this time through the spray of an altogether stronger water supply.

At first glance the black mask and yellow helmet was enough to scare her, then the black mask was gone, replaced by the grubby grin of the fireman and the same mask was descending on her face and she took a deep breath.

"Is there anyone else in the flat Love?" he shouted. She shook her head in answer. "Right let's get you out of here then,"

As she held the mask to her face the fireman lifted her from the bath and carried her to the smoke blackened landing, and across to her living room.

The Fireman shouted "Blanket!" at the top of his voice from the window and another fireman appeared at it and handed a blue blanket across to him. He wrapped the rough but welcome blanket around her to cover her, as she remembered, still naked from the shower. She noticed that the front window was gone, probably how they'd got in the flat in the first place. She was lifted through into the arms of the other man, and with a jerk she realised that she was on one of those turntable ladder things they'd brought to school and she was being slowly lowered to the ground.

She caught glimpses of what was left of the front door and scorched wallpaper, the blue flashing lights and redness of the fire appliance, concerned faces before she was in the back of an ambulance and being laid down on a stretcher.

A second oxygen mask was put over her face, and she coughed into it as her body fought to be free of the impurities she had inhaled. A second blanket, not so rough replaced the first

She looked across past the green uniform of the ambulance man, straight into the concerned face of Mr Lumsden, itself hiding behind an oxygen mask.

He smiled at her and she smiled back, noticing for the first time her grey tabby tucked inside his cardigan, the old man even going as far as putting his plastic oxygen mask down to the pinched, feline face. He winked.

She heard voices talking, "very lucky kid, she was in the shower, under the water and breathing through the air vent, probably saved her life..."

She felt engine rumble into life then the motion of the ambulance, and a gently rocking movement and she remembered no more.

She woke up in a hospital bed with an oxygen mask strapped to her face. Next to the bed was a large padded chair of the kind found in all hospitals, and sound asleep on it was a Hollywood movie star, not found in all hospitals.

She coughed involuntarily and Bruce awoke.

"Sarah," he grinned, "Are you OK?"

"I think so," she said looking around her, "What happened to me?"

"They reckon someone stuffed rags soaked in oil through your letter box then poured petrol through, followed by burning paper," he said in voice she'd never heard from him before, "Darling, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," he looked terrible, "your flat, all of your clothes, I'll pay for everything." She coughed again. "It was your bloody stalker wasn't it." It was a comment more than a question.

"I think it must have been."

"You're living with me now, and that's an end to it."

"But..."

"No buts." He grinned, "You can come and stay with me... as a friend if the papers get hold of it."

"It would be easier to stay at Mum and Dad's."

"What, and let them come there for you next? No way."

"Are you OK Miss Wells?" said a pretty nurse in green scrubs.

"Yes, I'm fine thank you, what time is it?"

"It's a bit after four," said the girl looking down at the watch pinned to her shirt.

"Four?" Sarah said in surprise.

"You've had a bit of a shock, your system kind of shuts down so you can recover, that's why you slept."

"Thanks," Sarah looked down at the surgical gown she was wearing, "I don't suppose any of my nighties survived did they?"

"Not sure," said Bruce, "but your Mum and Dad are out shopping for enough for the next few days right now, they've not long left."

"Would you like something to eat Sarah?" said the nurse.

"Tea would be wonderful please."

"Me too," said Bruce, "I'm in shock too... kind of."

"We'll see," said the nurse with a disapproving grin.

The nurse returned ten minutes later with two blue cups and a plate of hot toast. "That should keep you going for a while," said the nurse.

"I'm very much obliged," said Bruce with a smile.

"Not for you!" she admonished in fake shock making to slap his hand as he reached for the toast.

"But err... she's..." he paused, "my babysitter, technically an employee, what's hers is mine," he turned his head to her and slipped her the smallest wink.

"Well, she is officially certified as sick now, so she can eat her own toast."

"Wells, you're fired."

She giggled slightly which caused another involuntary bout of coughing.

Bruce held the oxygen mask to her face, while picking up her glass of water and a tissue.

"You OK?" he said, his concern genuine.

Sarah nodded and the pretty nurse smiled.

"Wish my boss was as nice as that."

"He's a real task master," she breathed sipping her tea, "Very hard to please." It was Sarah's turn to wink now.

"Can I go private for the toast?" he said, wounded.

"Hmm," said the Nurse, "Private toast. Nah," she said, "you'd never be able to afford it... one piece and that's all, there's a sick lady there that needs it more than you."

"Mam, you servant," he bowed slightly and slipped a slice off of the plate.

"That's OK," said the nurse, "By the way, the 'lates' sister is using her meal break to go home and get her Bruce Young Calendar and 'Detective' DVD's - if you want a second cup and another piece of toast I'd recommend you sign them."

"Of course," said Bruce.

"Right, Miss Wells, you're not to go back to work for at least two weeks, the burn is easy, but your lungs may take a few days to sort out. Plenty of rest and relaxation."

"Can she go shopping?" said Bruce.

"Oh yes," said the nurse with an expansive gesture, "Give it a day or so though. Retail therapy, Mother Nature's finest medicine."

"I'll send her somewhere where she can relax and shop, that OK?"

"You paying?" said the nurse. Bruce screwed up his face and nodded. "Then that'll do nicely sir."

When the star-struck day sister returned she had a camera and Bruce posed for a dozen pictures with all of the staff and promised a signed photo for the staff room. It was at this point that her parents returned.

Sarah was amazed that they didn't growl disapprovingly at him, quite the contrary. As her mother pulled the curtains around the bed, she said what a thoroughly nice chap he was sitting with all of the nurses and signing things for them.

She slipped the cotton T-shirt Nightdress over her shoulder and flinched as it touched the red soreness of her right shoulder covered with a dry dressing.

"I've packed you a bag," said her Mum.

"What?"

"Bruce is sending you away for a few days."

"Where?"

"South of France."

"I can't go to the South of France..."

"It's OK, your Dad and I are coming with you," Mum looked confused, "Bruce said you're to 'relax and shop', know what he means?"

The next day a long car with blacked out windows was waiting outside of the hospital and she climbed in with her parents.

"About an hour and half to Heathrow Mam," said the Driver leaning through the glass partition panel, "There's plenty to drink and a selection of snacks. Please help yourself. Oh yes, the TV has a selection of films, I reckon that you'll get through at least one depending on traffic. Try one with a blue tab, that's just under two hours."

It took them to Heathrow as promised, the driver even slowing down so they could get in the last of the film. They were shown to a very comfortable first class lounge and then were shown out to the runway and a small private jet, like on television. A short flight later found them landing at a small airport on the outskirts of Nice.

Sarah was struck by the light, stepping down the steps of the aircraft, she had to put on sunglasses against it. At the bottom of the stairs was a young girl in a blue suit, immaculate and perfectly made-up. She had the faintest French accent.

"The Wells Party?" she smiled and held out a hand to Sarah's father, "I'm Anna and I'll be looking after you this week. It's a pleasure to meet you, won't you come this way?"

Past passport control they were taken to another limousine and taken to a hotel overlooking the Mediterranean. It was white and glass, and big and shiny. Sarah could hardly believe it.

She was stunned. Less than two days ago she was digging through her work clothes and thinking how nice it might be to have a holiday later in the summer, possibly with Bruce, he had mentioned the possibility of a long weekend in New York. But here she was on a balcony overlooking the blue of the Med and she was completely blown away.

Mum and Dad however weren't, and took to the new situation with ease, not troubled by Anna's insistence that they really could order what they wanted from the Menu and the wine list, and go anywhere and do anything that they wished.

Bruce had said he would fly out to meet her but said he couldn't because his Boss at the school he was working at had gone sick so...

He would be there for the weekend he promised, even earlier if he could dump the last afternoon tutorial.

Anna was a wonderful host, and showed them all of the sights from the comfort of the limousine. They shopped, and Sarah bought clothes with labels she'd only ever read about in magazines she could barely afford, let alone the clothes they contained pictures of. Anna, as well as being a guide, was also an expert on personal styling and outfitted her in clothes for almost every occasion, the ones she didn't want were packed into large boxes for immediate shipping to the UK and Bruce's large London flat.

Within days Sarah moved to the beach and after approval from the hotel Doctor gingerly removed the dressing to show skin well on the way to recovery. Plastered in a high factor sun cream she spent several great afternoons on the beach reading, swimming and getting the kind of tan she had only ever had sprayed on.

She had quite forgotten the day of the week and after a lovely day in the pool, the sauna, a great massage and dinner overlooking the sea she had gone to bed, as relaxed as she could remember being.

There was a sound in the room she took to being her Mum, but the shape was a lot bigger. The side of the bed dipped, and she sprang up. In doing so she smelled aftershave; the shape was familiar,

"Bruce," she whispered in delight.

"Hey Baby." He brushed a hand through her hair.

"Just when I thought it couldn't get any better." She grabbed his head and pulled him down and over her and into a long, long kiss.

Breakfast was delivered on a tray, and it was not a continental one. Bruce tipped the waitress, and placed the tray before Sarah.

"So," he said, "you feeling better?"

"Oh yeah," she said writhing and stretching under the soft white linen.

"I was talking about the holiday."

"Are you kidding?" she said with a smile, "I've realised I picked the wrong business."

She sat up, lifting the coffee cup to her lips. Over the holiday she had grown to rely on coffee and the wonderful way the French had with it.

"Yeah," said Bruce, standing and looking out to see. "Last week, I was back to being my own boss again, no disrespect to you of course. The kids just treat me like Mr Young now, and not a celebrity. Several times last week when I was thinking about you, I considered that I might just have the wrong profession too."

"Trust me Bruce," she said sliding the duvet to one side and stepping out to meet him, naked. "If I had all of this, I'd want to teach too..."

He stared at her with raised eyebrows, until she burst into uncontrolled laughter.

"Hmm, Miss Wells, you are a great drama teacher, for a second there I believed you." He picked up the tray and walked towards the terrace.

She slipped on her towelling gown and stepped out onto the balcony that she shared with her parents, by virtue of a removable screen.

"Good Morning Darling," said her Mother, standing to pour her a glass of orange juice, "you were having a good laugh in there about something," She handed the glass to Sarah.

"Me I'm afraid Joysie," said Bruce stepping out to join them, a pair of shorts pulled on, to prevent any embarrassment.

"Bruce, how wonderful!" said Mum. She stepped around the table and kissed a proffered cheek.

Joysie? He called her mother 'Joysie'? Anyone else would have died for calling her that.

"I got in last night, last plane from Heathrow, real red eye job." He put an arm around Sarah, "but there are some things that are worth the effort."

"Aww," said her Mum pouring him a glass of juice as well. She had never discussed her relationship with Bruce with either parent and now here she was, sharing a room with someone they had only met the once, even then it was in a hospital.

She basked in the sun sipping some more of the fantastic coffee while Bruce was in the shower.

"So Mum, what do you think of him?"

"Bruce? Oh he's lovely," she said. Her mother had never said anything that complimentary about any of her other boyfriends, "I understand Caroline was quite taken with him as well." That hung on the air. She hadn't told her mother about her weekend away with him, nor her visit to London.

Her Father flicked the Newspaper back to look over the top.

"And I thought you said he didn't do that much for you..."

He smiled at her, and her face crumpled into a cross grin too.

"OK, I remember what I said."

"He must be such a nuisance to have around the school. Still, nice to see that you have it all under control." He lifted the paper back again and Sarah could see from the shaking of the newsprint that he was giggling.

"Feel like I've known him for years," said Mum.

"Well you have in a way Darling," said Dad, "You're glued to him when they show 'Detective'. Mind you though he does take the part well."

Bruce reappeared looking fresh, shaved and scrubbed.

He bent down and kissed Sarah's cheek. She grinned and held a hand to his face while he did.

"Beautifully shaved I must say," she said as she trailed a hand down his cheek and he slowly straightened, "We were just discussing some of your work."