~*~ Prologue - Avant ~*~
Since he started at Guildhall, he's only seen her as the girl on the other side of the fence. No, fence was the wrong word for this. It was more of a large gate. He would pass this house twice every day he had class as he went on the double decker bus to the School. At times he had taken leisurely long walks back to his flat to see this mansion set in the heart of trendy Fulham. Most often times, he found her sitting, talking into what many called the "Burger King headset". Many times he conned himself into thinking that this young woman had seen him, watched him change from an awkward acting student to a more refined man gracing the stage.
It was his last year at Guildhall, and he began to see her face everywhere. Her picture was all over the tube, she was the face of Spencer European Insurance. Her eyes pierced his, and she was only two-dimensional. Arriving at the school, he wondered if he should stay for the end of the year party, a fete usually lasting long throughout the night that had scouts, talent agencies and other forms of shrewd business dealing.
"What the hell, I need a job." He sighed, having done several auditions for roles in movies that he felt were far too big for his britches.
Running through the play smoothly for the crew, he went through his usual ritual of preparation, wax, chapstick, self-adjustment, glance in mirror. The production, on its last night, could not have been on any more of an emotional autopilot. He really didn't want to let go of such a great experience, and yet, he was feeling ready to break out of this containment.
Then he saw her. At the fete.
It was Spencer European Insurance sponsoring the end of the year party. She stepped up to the podium, elegantly made up and dressed. She tapped the microphone. He looked up attentively, waiting to hear what she wanted to say. "Excuse me? Hello. I'm Raya Scott-Spencer, the...unofficial representative of Spencer European Insurance, and daughter of your sponsor. I would just like to congratulate you on another wonderful year and that this group of actors will not be easily missed. The company, as well as my family, wish you all well as you embark on your careers. Drink up." She gave a small smile to the audience and stepped down from the podium.
He wanted to personally talk to her. Pushing past the people congratulating him, halfheartedly saying his thanks, he got to her before being pushed back by surly guards. "Sorry sir, but you cannot approach Miss Scott-Spencer."
"I'd just like to say thank you to her." He pressed. "For having sponsored this great event."
The large guard made his way to the young woman whose frame was quite diminished at his side. She walked to him, accompanied by her guards. "Joseph tells me you wanted to talk to me?"
"Orlando. Orlando Bloom. But please, call me Orlando." He said, putting on his best smile.
"Well Orlando Bloom, it was nice to have met you. You did a wonderful job tonight." She said, as though rehearsed. "I do wish you the best of luck in your career." Her guard flanking her left tapped her shoulder.
"Er, I just wanted to tell you, that... that its an honor to have met someone as powerful as you." He said, scanning his brain for some sort of substance. She looked as though she hadn't been paying much attention to what he just said.
"Orlando Bloom, I'm sorry, but I have to go. And no, I'm not all that powerful, I'm only the spokesperson." She replied as she was being whisked away.
He kicked pebbles along the street as he made his way from the bus stop to his flat. "'Honor to have met someone as powerful as you?' What the hell am I thinking?" He asked himself.
There was still class the next day anyway. He would try to get some sleep this night, hoping that she wouldn't have him wake up in a cold sweat.
He passed by her mansion again that day, not seeing her and her usual headset. Not seeing much movement at all. The classes came and went and on his way back there was nary a movement. This went on and on for weeks on end.
He was deluding himself, he finally concluded. There she was, daughter of a wealthy family, and then there was him, the bloke from Canterbury who was almost done with acting school. The guy who recited poetry and grew up without his real father. The chance of him dating her, even seeing her again, was as slim as him getting a movie role right out of school.
Graduation day drew near and as he went to school on his last day of final exams, he saw cars back in the large driveway, and the same elegant woman, not so dressed up but unbearably attractive. He felt himself flush and the object of his affection was hundreds of yards away by now.
Even though he had come to the conclusion that he would never ever have the chance to get near this woman, who now had a name to go with her face, he began to wistfully fantasize of what could be and what he could have done.
His mates got him out to watch football matches, and he went, and enjoyed, but he always found himself drawn back to that mansion in Fulham. He was going to do it. He as going to go up to the mansion and ask for her, even if it meant looking like a fool. His premise was just to get to know something about her.
All his attention was drawn away when he saw rather large manila envelope addressed to him from New Zealand. Perhaps it was that part he had to reaudition for. And he was blown away and rooted to the spot at the same time. The melodrama of excitement and shock played on.
He did the first rational thing that came to mind and called his mother.
"Mum?" He spoke, rather quietly into the phone. He was breathing quite heavily and the shock had not fully worn off.
"Orlando! We'll be coming down there to watch you for Friday's ceremonies. Sammie got to change her schedule. We'll meet you at Euston tomorrow." His mother said quickly.
"Mum...I got the part. The part of Legolas for The Lord of the Rings." Orlando said quickly. He heard a squeal of delight at the other end.
"Orlando! That's wonderful! Oh, lord. Can I tell anyone? Or is this secret?" She asked.
"Erm, secret mum, please don't tell. Not until it's all released to the public." He replied. "I've got papers to read mum, so I'll talk to you when you come here on Thursday."
The week flew by and it was soon his graduation day. The graduates were seated facing the audience. Orlando being at the beginning of the alphabet, in the first row. He scanned the crowd and found his mother, long time guardian, and his sister, sitting in the middle. He looked at the faces in the crowd. He anticlimactically received his diploma and sat back down.
He saw her. And there was no denying that she didn't see him. His lips curled into a small smile, directed at her. He couldn't tell whether she had acknowledged it or not, she remained as composed as ever, and instead leaned over to a rather portly, older man who was sitting next to her. Orlando had to stop himself from grinning as the man, after being spoken to, pointed at him.
The graduates disperesed and Orlando remained onstage so as to let his parents get to him, instead of losing them in all of the commotion. He sat on the edge of the stage, legs dangling.
He was tapped on the knee. "Orlando Bloom, we meet again."
"I never thought I would have the pleasure, Ms...er, Scott or Spencer?" Orlando asked, immediately blushing.
"Officially...Scott-Spencer. But please, do call me Raya." She said, momentarily donning a smile before reverting to her composed self.
"So, what brings you back to Guildhall?" He asked casually, toying with his graduation gown. He stepped down off of the stage, noticing that she was craning her neck.
"It started off as business, but I do suppose Daddy's got something in mind." She replied, her curls piled neatly at the top of her head.
"Raya, this may sound silly, but-"
"Sorry, Orlando, I have to go. But I do wish to see you again. Take this, it's my business card, you'll find the code for getting in to our compound." Raya replied. "Just show up."
He stared blankly at the small card, watching as Raya held on to the portly man he saw earlier, scuttling away. Slipping the card in his pocket, he was soon greeted by his family.
"Orlando, we're so proud of you, and your other achievement of course." His mother said, hugging him tightly.
"Thanks mum." He smiled as she hugged him. "And Sammie, you could have never taunted me enough."
He spent his night quietly with his family, going through yearbooks and revisiting old memories. His mind truly lay, however, on what was resting in his pants pocket. His family had to leave the next day, which was a shame, however, unavoidable seeing as both of them had to work.
Orlando found himself walking aimlessly, almost leisurely, the following Sunday afternoon and found his feet wandered to Fulham. "Twenty eight Fulham Road." He said aloud as he counted the ever larger mansions. He found her mansion easily, but found it more difficult to operate the intercom.
"Who are you here to see, sir?" A raspy voice answered after he had pressed the appropriate numbers.
"Erm," Orlando answered before he could stop himself. He looked on the card "I'm here to see about French hairspray and curlers." He listened to this in his head, and found that even though the writing clearly said it, it was still quite odd.
"Do come in then." Replied the voice from the machine. The gate buzzed and he entered. For the first time, Orlando had been on the other side of the gate.
"She's been expecting you." An older English gentleman, whom Orlando presumed to be the butler, informed him. Orlando was awestruck by the size of the mansion as he lazily followed the butler into a large sunroom.
Raya, dressed in a white cotton drem with a ruffled hem and sleeves was sitting on a chair, reading what seemed to be the latest business magazine. Her hair still perfectly done, but this time hanging freely down her back, curls loose. "Orlando, lovely to see you here. Do have a seat."
"Brilliant mansion you've got here, Raya." Orlando said, eyes still wandering, taking in the magnitude of it.
Raya put down the magazine. "Let me be straightforward with you, Orlando, I-"
"Please, call me Orli." He interjected.
"Orlando," she continued, "when I saw you perform, I must admit, I was a little lust struck. And that is the answer to why I was there, to see you onstage again, for your graduation. Now, I may come off as an empty-headed bird who reads off of cue cards and memorises answers, but that's why I gave you my card."
"To properly talk to each other?" Orlando asked.
"Yes. Would you like to go first?" She suggested while she looked up at her butler.
"No, you do the honors." Orlando replied, now feeling uncomfortable.
"I'm Raya Scott-Spencer. My mother is four times married, and my father happily content with one. I have an older half sister studying in America to be a writer. I have A-Levels in Business Management, Accounting, and Theatre."
"Theatre?" Orlando asked, surprised at this news.
Raya, it seemed to him, was a little miffed at this interruption. "Yes. Theatre. I lived in India from when I was born to the age of six, which influenced my name. I turn twenty one on the thirtieth of July, and was educated at a Scottish boarding school until the age of seventeen." She found this satisfying. "I wouldn't want to tell you everything... what would I tell you if we were to date?"
Orlando gave a nervous laugh. "Raya, I'm Orlando. My father died when I was younger, and so I grew up with my mother and older sister. My A-Levels sound like crap compared to yours, all except Theatre of course." Raya smiled at this, not out of pleasure that he was intimidated, but that they shared that interest. "I've lived in England all of my life. Two years ago, I broke my back, and was very lucky to be walking within weeks. I've just graduated from Guildhall School of Music and Drama and will be filming The Lord of the Rings in New Zealand for the next eighteen months starting next month."
"Eighteen months?" She asked, her voice not so easily masking the shock.
"Yeah, it's crazy, isn't it?" Orlando replied, slightly relieved that this, self -PR was over.
"Well then, you should find a good place for us to have our first date." She answered. "Here's my private number and my private mobile. Do call it once you've sorted things out."
Orlando stared as she gave the written numbers to him. "Thank you..." He managed to stammer.
"I have to go and film a French commercial for the company, so, if you'll excuse me. Woodrow can show you the door. And try to call before the weekend." She replied, watching him leave before going her own way.
Orlando racked his brain. He would surely find a place before the weekend