Page 40 of Wilder at Heart
I send her a message while Theo drives.
Missing you [kiss emoji]. What’s the latest on the pipes?
Ugh me too. Though spending the day fake-fucking Josh so, you know, could be worse. Builders and plumbers going in next week. It’ll be a big job. How’s Terrible Theo treating my girls?
I laugh at that. She is such a lucky cow. I twist in my seat and snap Olive asleep. Not that you can see much through the mesh, but it’ll make Elle happy to see any of her.
All good. TT is taking us to Sorrel Farm. We’re doing a debrief with Evelyn and he wants in on the action. Will take pics of O frolicking in the meadows. Good luck shooting
She replies with a selfie of her and Josh in full costume. From what I can see, she’s on his lap. His fake sideburn grazes her cheek, and his shirt is billowing open. No cravat. They must be in a state of undress for shooting. They’re such a gorgeous couple. I shake my head. The money I could make from selling this stuff if I wasn’t a good friend. It doesn’t bear thinking about what TMZ would pay for this.
Give Evelyn my love. And Josh wants to know if TT has defiled you yet.
Josh needs to rediscover 21st century lingo. And no. Legs firmly crossed.
Shame (that’s from me and Josh). Tempted?
I risk a glance at Theo. He has his aviators on and that beautiful blue linen shirt rolled up to just below his elbows. The forearms lightly gripping the wheel are tanned and muscular, and he’s humming along to his Spotify playlist. Heis ridiculously, improbably gorgeous. Objectively speaking, of course. He senses my gaze and shoots me a trademark grin, casual and mischievous and warm, and a sensation floats over me that gives me pause.
That I’m here in this car with this guy whom I barely knew a few weeks ago, and who is now my fake boyfriend, my host, and, oddest of all, a kind of friend, is beyond surreal. Last month, I was reluctantly ogling Theo Montague from the comfort of my sofa as he walked around naked and engaged in despicable acts.
Now I’m in a car with him, heading to an idyllic resort where I’ll spend most of the day canoodling with him and pretending to be his girlfriend.
Life is bizarre.
Theo brushes my wrist. ‘You all right, sweetheart?’
‘Just texting with Elle. You know, while she’s on a break from shooting yet another sex scene with Josh. They were asking if you’ve had your wicked way with me yet. The term the good duke used was “defiled”.’
He shoots me a look, pulling his aviators down briefly, so I catch the flash in his eyes.
‘Tell His Grace I’m working on it.’
Holy shit.
‘Jesus Christ,remind me why I don’t get out of London more often?’
Theo loops a lazy arm around my shoulders, tilts his face to the sky, and takes a giant inhale. His hand warms my skin even more than the hazy late-morning sun. I know what he means. Being here is like… a circuit breaker. We’re only twenty milesfrom High Street Ken as the crow flies, but this is a world away. I can imagine finding it very easy to believe that nothing bad is happening in the world right now. Or if it is, that we’re protected from it as long as we’re here.
I swear I can feel my heart rate lower as we stand with Evelyn, Miles, Saoirse and Saoirse’s boss, event planner extraordinaire, Siobhan Quinn, in the resort’s Walled Garden. Gnarled fruit trees bursting with new, emerald green leaves flank the ancient walls. The focal point is a long, slate-lined pool that’s empty save for a couple of swimmers doing leisurely laps, though there are several people enjoying the chunky teak loungers dotted around the pool.
This place is a Pinterest addict’s wet dream, but it’s even more beautiful in the flesh. There’s a magic in the air here that I can’t put my finger on. Everything is so… organic. Theo’s flat is stunning, but after its clean lines and minimalism, Sorrel Farm is like a shot of nature’s best adrenalin.
The beauty of the trees and flowers.
The skill with which nature and architecture have been combined here.
And the overwhelming scent of jasmine and lilac andearth.
It’s like crack.
Evelyn laughs at Theo’s question. ‘Tell me about it. I felt the exact same as you when the shit hit the fan in my life and I came down here to escape. It’s like, once you’re here, nothing else matters. The outside world can’t touch you.’
I’ve met Evelyn a couple of times through Elle. Evelyn and her high-profile, over-achieving friends, Astrid and Honor, kind of adopted Elle when she first got famous, and they’ve been there for her these past few years, helping her navigate the dark side of celebrity. We see less of Evelyn because she’s no longer London-based.
But even if I didn’t know her, her story is well known. She used to be married to the very charming celebrity chef, Seb Macleod, until he took the world by surprise and came out as gay to a tabloid. Evelyn fled down here to lick her wounds—it’s run by some friends of hers—and ended up falling in love and becoming the farm’s Commercial Director. Her husband runs the working farm here, I believe. He’s won awards for being a wunderkind in the world of biodynamics.
Not that you’d ever place Evelyn as working on a farm if you saw her. Today she’s looking as immaculate as ever, her glossy chestnut hair blowdried to perfection. She’s in a white, laser-cut Alaia mini dress that showcases her amazing legs. Definitely the most gorgeous farmer’s wife ever.
