‘Excuse me?’ I try waving my arms again. ‘Sage?’
‘People should know the truth about you, Lois,’ she spits. ‘You act so high and mighty, but you’re nothing but a criminal. You’re a thief! You’re a shoplifter!’
There’s a shocked murmuring from the audience at this. Someone shouts, ‘Boo!’ and someone else, ‘Get her off!’
‘Now, now.’ Billy Griffiss sounds pretty shocked, too. ‘I think that’s enough—’
‘It’s true! She’s a shoplifter! From … Pump!, wasn’t it, Lois?’
Lois looks like she wants to throw up.
‘There’s CCTV footage,’ says Sage in satisfaction. ‘Take a look.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ says Lois in a trembling voice.
‘Yes I do. Becky saw her. Becky, you saw Lois shoplifting, didn’t you? Tell them! This is the witness!’ She gestures theatrically at me.
I’m still on my feet, so I’m totally identifiable. In one instant, everyone in the room seems to have turned to look at me. Photographers are pointing their cameras this way. A few flashes are already going off, and I blink.
‘You saw Lois shoplifting, didn’t you?’ says Sage, her voice rising clearly through the room, her smile curving cruelly. ‘Tell them, Becky. Tell the truth.’
Blood is rushing in my ears like a freight train. I can’t think properly. The whole world is looking at me and I need to decide what to do and I’m too confused and the seconds are ticking by …
I’ve lied plenty of times in my life. I’ve said my leg was broken when it wasn’t. I’ve said I had glandular fever when I didn’t. I’ve said my boots cost £100 when it was actually £250. But those were lies about me. I’ve never lied about someone else.
I can’t tell the world Lois is a shoplifter.
But I can’t tell the world she isn’t a shoplifter.
‘I …’ I glance desperately at Lois. ‘I … no comment.’
I sink down in my chair, feeling ill.
‘That proves it!’ Sage crows. ‘Look at the CCTV footage! Becky saw it all. She’s your witness. Get her on the stand!’ She curtseys to the audience and sweeps off the stage.
Aran and Luke are just staring at each other, aghast.
‘Becky.’ Luke reaches over and squeezes my hand hard. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes. No.’ I swallow. ‘What was I supposed to do?’
‘It was an impossible situation.’ Luke’s mouth is tight with anger. ‘A situation you shouldn’t have been put in.’
‘They’re coming.’ Aran glances up at the photographers heading our way. He gives me a sympathetic look. ‘Watch out, girl. Your life just changed for ever.’
‘Becky!’ A journalist is holding out a voice recorder at me. ‘Becky! Did you see Lois stealing?’
‘Did you catch her in the act?’ chimes in another.
‘Becky, look this way please!’
‘This way, please, Becky!’
‘Leave her alone!’ commands Luke furiously, but the crowd of press is getting even bigger.
‘Becky! To your right, please!’
I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be in the glare of the paparazzi. Now I know. It’s like being in a thunderstorm. It’s all white light and noise and whooshing in my ears. Voices are calling at me from all directions. I don’t know which way to look or what to do. All I’m aware of is my name, being shouted out, over and over.
‘Becky!’
‘Becky!’
‘Beckeeeeeee!’
FOURTEEN
I suppose in the old days, we would have waited for the first editions to come out. We might even have got some sleep. But this is the 24-hour internet age. The news was right there, instantly.
It’s 6 a.m. now, and none of us has been to bed. I’ve read about two hundred different pieces online. I can’t stop. The headlines have been changing every hour, as more bits of news filter in:
Lois is ‘Shoplifter’!!!
ASAs ceremony disrupted
Sage accuses Lois of theft, interrupts awards
Store assistant confirms shoplifting, police ‘pressing no charges as yet’
Sage: I feel betrayed by former friend
And there’s a whole load, just about me.
Witness Becky ‘saw everything’
Becky ‘may testify in court’
Stars fight over bag from stylist Becky
They just go on and on. The most extraordinary one is this one I found on a gossip site:
Becky ‘drank cocktails’ before row, bartender reports
I mean, for God’s sake. What does that have to do with anything? They might as well write, ‘Lois and Sage visited bathroom on day of row.’ They probably will write that.
We’ve all given up saying how bizarre it is. Suze and Tarkie are on the sofa with all the children, eating cornflakes and watching the coverage on E!, which is basically a loop of Sage screaming at Lois and a shot of me looking bewildered. I’ve seen it about forty-seven times. I don’t need to see it any more.
Luke and Aran are in the kitchen, talking grimly. Somehow they persuaded Sage to stop giving interviews, go home and promise to go to bed. Aran delivered her personally into the care of her housekeeper, handed over a huge tip and said, ‘This girl needs to sleep.’ But I bet she’s stayed up all night, too. I bet she loves it.
As for Lois, I have no idea. Her people surrounded her and hustled her out of the place almost instantly. It was like seeing a caged animal again. Every time I think of it my insides squirm with guilt.
‘Want watch Barney!’ Minnie barges into me, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Want watch Barney, not Mummy. Not Mummy,’ she repeats disparagingly.
I suppose it is a bit boring, watching your mother on a loop on the TV when you were hoping for a big purple dinosaur.
‘Come on.’ I lift her up, all cosy in her rabbit dressing gown and slippers. ‘Let’s find you Barney.’
I settle her upstairs, watching Barney on our bed with a bowl of sugar-free spelt puffs. (Totally tasteless but, unbelievably, her favourite snack. She really is becoming a child of LA.) Then I pull back the curtains and do a double-take. There’s a camera crew outside our gates. An actual camera crew! The next minute I hear the entrance buzzer sounding. Someone’s pressing it, over and over. I bolt along the landing and start running down the stairs, but Luke is at the bottom, waiting for me.
‘Don’t answer it!’ he says. ‘Aran will take care of it.’
He shepherds me away from the door, into the kitchen. ‘You’re going to have to keep a very low profile over the next few days,’ he says. ‘Which is boring, but that’s how these things go. We’ll draft a statement and release it mid-morning.’
‘Becky!’ I can hear a man’s faint voice from outside. ‘Becky, we want to offer you an exclusive!’
‘Should I maybe give an interview?’ I turn to Luke. ‘Like, make things clear?’
‘No!’ says Luke, as though the idea is anathema. ‘A statement is enough. We don’t want to feed the frenzy. The more you give them, the more they’ll want. Coffee?’
‘Thanks. I just need to … get my lip gloss …’
I dart into the hall again and run halfway up the stairs. There’s a window from where I can see out to the front, and I peer through the glass. Aran is at the gates, talking to the camera crew. He’s laughing and looks relaxed and even high-fives one of them. I can’t imagine Luke behaving like that.
‘Sorry, guys,’ I hear him say, and then he turns back towards the house. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as.’
‘Aran!’ I say, as the front door opens. ‘What’s going on?’ I walk back down the stairs to talk to him.
‘Oh, nothing much.’ He smiles easily. ‘World’s press descending: same old same old.’
‘And they want to interview me?’
‘They sure do.’
‘What did you say to them?’
‘I said don’t scratch the gates, you miserable bloodsuckin
g low-life.’
I can’t help smiling. Aran seems so relaxed about things. The buzzer sounds again and he peers out of a side window.
‘What do you know,’ he observes. ‘ABC just turned up. This story is going mainstream.’
‘Luke says I should stay inside and ignore them,’ I venture. ‘And we’ll just give out a statement later.’
‘If you want this to go away, that’s the best thing you can do,’ he says, in neutral tones. ‘Totally. Keep your head down and they’ll get bored.’
I can sense a ‘But’ hovering in the air. I look at him questioningly and he shrugs noncommittally.
He’s not going to say a single word more unless I press him, is he? I walk a little way off, in the opposite direction from the kitchen, and wait for Aran to follow me.
‘But?’ I say, and Aran sighs.
‘Becky, you’re Luke’s wife. I’m not here to advise you.’
‘But?’
‘It all depends on what you want. And what Luke wants.’
‘I don’t know what I want,’ I say, confused. ‘I don’t even know what you mean.’
‘OK. Let me explain.’ He seems to marshal his thoughts. ‘I’ve watched you trying to make it in Hollywood as a stylist. Without a whole lot of success, right?’
‘Right,’ I say reluctantly.
‘You know what people need to make it in Hollywood? They need heat. Right now, you have heat. All that attention, that buzz …’ He gestures out to the front. ‘That’s heat. And call me an environmentalist, but I don’t like to see heat go to waste.’
‘Right,’ I nod uncertainly. ‘Me neither.’
‘Whether you like it or not, getting ahead in this place isn’t about talent or hard work. OK, maybe ten per cent is talent.’ He spreads his hands. ‘The other ninety per cent is catching a lucky break. So here’s your choice. You can see last night as a weird little moment to hush up and move on from … or you can see it as the luckiest break you ever caught.’ He focuses on me, his eyes suddenly intense. ‘Becky, last night was Providence giving you a fastpass. You can jump to the head of the line if you want to. You can go the distance. Do you want to?’
I stare back, utterly mesmerized by his words. I can jump to the head of the line? Go the distance? Why on earth wouldn’t I want to do that?
‘Yes!’ I stutter. ‘Of course I do! But— but what do you mean, exactly? What should I do?’
‘We can make a plan. We can use this heat. But you have to know what you’re getting into. You have to be prepared to see it through.’
‘You mean, use the media?’ I say hesitantly. ‘Do interviews?’
‘Channel the energy, is all I’m saying. Your profile just went through the roof, but the world knows you as Becky Brandon, Witness to a Shoplifting. How about if you transformed that into Becky Brandon, Celebrity Stylist? Becky Brandon, Hollywood’s fashion maven. Becky Brandon, the go-to girl for a great look. We can brand you any way we like.’
I stare back at him, too dazzled to speak. Brand? Celebrity stylist? Me?
‘You know that bag you picked out is all over the internet?’ he adds. ‘Do you realize how hot you are right now? And if it goes to court, they’ll be all over you. You’ll be the star witness and, believe me, the world will be watching.’
I feel a fresh tingle of excitement. Star witness! I’ll have to have a whole new wardrobe! I’ll wear little Jackie O suits every day. And I’ll straighten my hair. No, I’ll put my hair up. Yes! Maybe I could have a different style every day, and people will call me The Girl with the Amazing Up-dos, and—
‘Are you starting to realize what you have here?’ Aran interrupts my thoughts. ‘People would kill for this exposure.’
‘Yes, but …’ I try to calm my whirling thoughts. ‘What do I do? Now? Today?’
‘Well.’ Aran sounds suddenly more businesslike. ‘We sit down and we make a plan. I can pull in some colleagues, you’ll need an agent …’
‘Stop!’ I say, as reality suddenly swoops in. ‘This is all too fast.’ I lower my voice a little. ‘Don’t you understand, everything you’re saying, it’s the exact opposite of what Luke was saying. He wants it all to go away.’
‘Sure.’ Aran nods. ‘Becky, what you have to remember is, Luke doesn’t see you as a client. He sees you as his wife. He’s very protective of you and Minnie. Of course he is. Me? I see everyone as a client. Or potential client.’ He grins. ‘We can discuss that later.’
The buzzer sounds again and I jump.
‘Leave it,’ says Aran. ‘Let them wait.’
‘So, what will all this mean for Sage?’
‘Sage!’ He gives a short bark of a laugh. ‘If that girl goes any further off the rails she’ll find herself in the ravine. She’ll be OK. We’ll haul her back on track, Luke and I. She’ll kick and scream and it won’t be pretty. But then, nothing about Sage is. Except her face. When she’s been in make-up,’ he adds. ‘You don’t want to see her before that.’ He grimaces. ‘Brutal.’
‘Rubbish!’ I give a shocked giggle. ‘She’s beautiful!’
‘If you say so.’ He raises his slanty eyebrows comically.
He’s so irreverent and so unruffled. It’s like he’s enjoying all of this. I gaze at him, trying to work him out.
‘You don’t seem as angry about all this as Luke. Hasn’t Sage messed up your strategy?’
‘Quite possibly. But I like a challenge.’ He shrugs. ‘Stars are like any other investment. May go up, may go down.’
‘And Lois? Do you think this will …’ I can hardly bear to say it. ‘Ruin her?’ I feel a fresh clench of guilt in my stomach. If I’d just kept my mouth closed. If I’d just kept my promise. I’m haunted by the sight of Lois swaying in shock on the stage. She looked so desperate. And it was all my fault.
‘Depends how she plays it,’ says Aran cheerily. ‘She’s a bright one, Lois. I wouldn’t put it past her to come out on top.’
I can’t believe he’s so heartless.
‘Didn’t you see her?’ I exclaim. ‘She looked like she was about to collapse! I thought she was going to faint right there on the stage!’
‘Probably didn’t eat enough at dinner.’ Aran’s phone buzzes. ‘I must go. But we’ll talk. And Becky …’ He gives me a significant look. ‘Don’t leave it too long. Remember, if you want to capitalize on this moment, you need the heat. And the heat won’t last for ever. Hi,’ he says into the phone.
‘Wait! Aran.’ I lower my voice and glance towards the kitchen. ‘If you were going to give me some advice on how to play it today … what would it be?’
‘Hold on a moment,’ says Aran into the phone and comes back towards me. ‘I’m not advising you officially, you understand, Becky.’ He glances towards the kitchen.
‘I understand,’ I practically whisper.
‘But if I had a client in your situation who wished to make the most of her exposure, I’d advise her to be seen. Get out there. Don’t say anything. Stay dignified, pleasant, going about your daily business. But be seen. Be photographed. And think about what you wear,’ he adds. ‘Be casual but cool. Make your outfit a talking point.’
‘OK,’ I say breathlessly. ‘Thanks.’
While Aran takes his call, I head to the window on the stairs again and peep out. There are more press gathered outside the gates. Waiting for me. I’m hot! Aran’s words keep going round my head. I mean, he’s right. All this time, I’ve been trying to make it in Hollywood and now, here’s a golden opportunity, right in my lap, and if I don’t take advantage of it I may never have the chance again …
‘Becky?’
Luke’s voice makes me jump. ‘Made you that cup of coffee.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, and smile nervously at him as I take it. ‘This is all a bit weird, isn’t it?’ I gesture to the crowd of journalists.
‘Don’t worry. It’ll all die down.’ Luke gives me a quick hug. ‘Why don’t you and Minnie and the others watch movies in the basement? Then you don’t even have to see the
m.’
‘Right,’ I say after a pause. ‘Yes. We could do that.’ I glance out of the window again. I can see a camera with NBC on it. NBC!
My mobile rings yet again, and I pull it out, expecting to see ‘Unknown Number’. I’ve already had about six journalists leaving messages on the phone today; God knows where they got my number from—
But it’s not a journalist, it’s Mum.
‘It’s Mum!’ I exclaim as Luke walks away to take another call. ‘At last! Hi, Mum. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night! Where are you?’
‘I’m in the car! I told you about our mini-break with Janice and Martin, didn’t I? The Lake District. No signal. But lovely views, although the hotel was a little chilly. We had to ask for extra blankets, but they couldn’t have been more charming about it—’
‘Right.’ I try to get a word in. ‘Er, Mum, something’s happened—’
‘I know!’ says Mum triumphantly. ‘We’d just got on to the M1 when I had a call from someone at the Daily World. She said, “Do you know your daughter has been causing a sensation in Hollywood?” Well! I said I had no idea, but it didn’t surprise me. I always knew you’d be a sensation. Janice has just found a picture of you on her smartphone. We’ve all had a look. Lovely frock. Where did you get that, love?’
‘Mum, you didn’t talk to them, did you? Only Luke says not to speak to the press. Just ring off.’
‘I wasn’t going to ring off!’ says Mum indignantly. ‘I wanted to hear all about it, for a start. Such a pleasant girl. She gave me every detail.’
‘How long did you talk for?’
‘Ooh, I’d say … How long was I on the phone, Janice? About forty minutes?’
‘Forty minutes?’ I echo, aghast.
There’s Luke saying ‘Don’t speak to the press’ and even Aran advising me ‘Don’t say anything’, and now Mum has given an in-depth interview to the Daily World.
‘Well, don’t say any more!’ I instruct her. ‘Not till you speak to Luke, anyway.’
Shopaholic to the Stars Page 23