If you ask me, which thousands, THOUSANDS of you have . . . this is some seriously, seriously fucked-up shit.
I’m trying to ignore it because the memorial is tomorrow and I think it’s only right that we pay our respects to Ava but I feel like I did when Dallas Masters pulled down my briefs in front of the whole class and everyone laughed. Betrayed. Cheated. Hurt.
Silly. I know. It’s not real. None of it’s real but y’know. At one time, I could pretend it was.
Twitter: @ryan_gosling_wannabe
September 3rd 2018
0730hrs
‘It’s OK,’ I reassured Kaycee. ‘But please. Remember you have to keep this from Ben.’
‘I will,’ she cried. ‘I could never tell him something like that. It would break him that someone was planning to do something so bad. But don’t you want him to know? About you, I mean? Don’t you want him to know that you aren’t bad? That you were doing a bad thing for reasons that weren’t wholly bad? I could explain to him in part.’ I thought about what she was saying for a minute but I realised Ben’s feelings towards me were secondary to putting this whole thing to rest.
‘No,’ I said. And then I couldn’t help myself. ‘You could tell him that you spoke to me. That you know I’m not a bad person.’ I felt better just saying the words out loud. I felt some semblance of my old self flooding back, layering itself over my endless longing for my daughter.
‘I will,’ she said. ‘Thank you. For what you did for Ben. Thank you so much.’
‘I know it’s short notice but would you like to come? To the memorial?’ I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.
‘No,’ she answered after a short hesitation. ‘I think let’s let time heal. I’ll watch it on the telly. Thank you, though. For explaining. Ben – he’ll . . . I think it’ll change things. He’s been a mess since it happened. Since Ava, I mean. All those memories flooding back.’ At last, something I could identify with.
‘I had it too,’ I told her. ‘The minute Ava disappeared. All of my past coming back, pushing its way in. I had exactly the same feelings.’ I shut my eyes, swallowing back the guilt at what I’d done and the way I’d manipulated the situation with Ben and Kaycee, but I needed to think about Ava now. About her memory. Raising as much money as we could. Me keeping a clean profile.
‘Thank you for ringing and explaining,’ she said. ‘That’s all I wanted, I guess. Just to hear that from you. I’m sorry if you felt I’d been, well . . .’ She sniffed. ‘Pushy or anything, especially when you’re grieving. Despite knowing what you were going through, I couldn’t sit there and watch Ben suffer in the way that he was.’
‘Tell him I’m sorry, will you? That I still think of him. Even now.’
‘I will. He’ll be so happy. It’ll change everything.’
‘I know. Good luck, Kaycee.’
‘Good luck to you too, Lara. You are an amazing person.’ Guilt slashed its way through me but then I remembered about my little girl.
‘Thank you,’ I said. I hung up and turned to Conor. ‘Are we done? Can I concentrate now on my little girl’s memorial?’
‘Yes.’ He gave me a genuine smile for the first time in ages. ‘Good work, Lara. Good work. We can concentrate on the memorial now. Our job here is done.’
Ryans-world.com
Entry: September 6th, 0200hrs
Author: Ryan
I’m on a roll now. I can tell you that with bleeding eyeballs and a wired brain, I think I’ve found something to do with the disappearance of Ava King. I’ve been staring at that fucking board all night, my brain whirring, going crazy and then I looked. I looked real close at one of the photographs I had tacked up and a thought entered my brain. I acted on it – just a preliminary look. And it struck me that I think something isn’t right with the whole case. There were lots of things not right about that case, you’re probably thinking, especially after it all started leaking out, like poisoned slurry. But hell . . . this might just blow everything out the water.
But now I need one of you to help. Can any of you step in? A computer whizz who can do something pretty simple, I reckon. And a bit of boring stuff too. Someone who can do something for me in the next twenty-four hours. Before the memorial, basically. I can help. But I’m also working on backing all this up, so it’d be a collaborative effort.
I can’t pay you yet. But, I promise that if anything comes of it, your name will be up there and I’ll owe you when I can. I promise.
Think of it as, y’know, doing a good deed and I’ll use you to upgrade my own website when I sign on the dotted line with the agency (which I’m gonna do).
PLEASE HELP!
And please, send me a DM on Twitter. Do not comment here, as I’m switching this off for a while to focus.
Twitter: @ryan_gosling_wannabe
September 6th 2018
1200hrs
The Memorial
The sunlight found me as I opened the front door. I stood with my face tilted upwards, breathing in the sweet smell of the garden. I hadn’t realised how stale the air in the house had become. Ava should have been running around the pool today. I thought of the earth, now, being fed by her lifeless body.
‘Come on,’ said Matthew. ‘I’ve got you.’ I took his hand and we made our way down to the bottom of The Hidden Hills, past the houses. Something about them made me feel a little uneasy. Their perfection against the never-ending sky. The huge windows, reflecting the sunlight like weird, looming robots on the horizon.
I thought about each step I took. I hadn’t worn heels for a long time. I kept my head very still, so as not to ruin my hair, or the make-up that Tavie had worked on tirelessly since the early hours of the morning. I had refused my usual full team, wanting only to be around a couple of select people. Joan and I had been working so hard towards the memorial and I needed time alone. ‘I’ll be there with you all day and I’ll touch up whenever you need,’ Tavie said, holding a mirror up to my face. I had barely had anything on my skin for nearly three weeks. The primers, creams and foundations had all felt like paste and I wondered how I’d had this every single day.
I looked different. The set of my features had become harder somehow. Although I realised when I had slipped on my navy Cavalli dress, that I had lost weight in the past three weeks, so that my skin stretched over my cheekbones. I’d spent hours trawling through my wardrobe with my stylist, to find the perfect outfit. She’d marked a few things out that she thought appropriate. Clothes from designers that didn’t have any affiliations with anyone or anything politically corrupt, clothes that wouldn’t show too much. Because I knew that everything I did today would be closely scrutinised. Even my earrings.
‘I’ve got you these.’ She handed me some beautiful ethically sourced yellow diamonds. ‘Here. Perfect. You’ve got everything exactly right. I don’t think there’s anything about your appearance that the press can jump on.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. I hadn’t wanted anything to detract my thoughts from my little girl during the memorial.
‘You look beautiful,’ Matthew said, as we had walked to the bottom of The Hidden Hills. When we reached the entrance, I stopped to look at the fresh flowers that had been left by the gates. I’d seen the crowds of people last night from the top window of the house.
They’d left huge bouquets of roses and lilies and, of course, the wild hand-picked ones. Matthew lifted his arm in the air and out of nowhere, a large, black limousine drew up. As we got in, our security detail stepped back, allowing the paps to move forward and press their lenses right up to the tinted glass.
It was a peaceful day on the roads. The traffic seemed to have slowed right down and a smog settled over the city. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I thought again about her body in the ground. Decaying. The bones of her skull creeping out from beneath that soft skin of hers. I wanted to throw up but somehow managed to hold it together. We made our way to the temporary stadium, driving down the paved road to the back of the s
tructure.
The crowds were quiet at first. There had been no movement but then I heard the rush of feet, hands holding phones directed at me. I kept my head still and gripped Matthew’s hand. I briefly lifted an arm and then froze.
‘Kate Middleton,’ said Matthew. ‘Behave like that. If you do anything else, you’ll look too eager, or too sombre, it won’t work.’ I kept these words in my mind but then I thought, screw it. Why don’t I just do what I want to do? It was Ava’s day after all. I felt stifled after having been in the house for so long. For the past three weeks I’d been able to behave exactly as I’d wanted without fear of press intrusion. Everyone had backed off since the funeral and it had taken me a while to get used to the feeling of not being watched.
‘Driver,’ I leaned forward. ‘Could you open the window?’ I felt the coolness touch my face. ‘Not too fast,’ I told him. And then I leaned my head slightly into the fresh air, and I waved.
‘Thank you,’ I mouthed to the crowds, and the screams got louder and louder and louder. The car drove right up to the back entrance of a large marquee that would act as a green room and preparation area for the event. The whole structure was huge, like a soccer stadium. I felt nervous at the thought of standing on the stage and singing – I hadn’t done that since England – but as we got closer, I heard the band warming up. The brass instruments tuning for the first note of ‘Amazing Grace’. And then Ed Sheeran’s ‘Supermarket Flowers’ cranked up and I heard the crowd singing along.
Matthew and I walked through security and into the tent as fast as we could. Everyone went quiet when they saw us. Lily was ticking off names, wearing a headset. Huge bunches of flowers had been placed around the room. A carpet had been laid across the floor so that my heels wouldn’t get stuck. Lily and the production team had thought of absolutely everything.
‘Joan?’ I said. ‘You get here OK?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s all going to plan. Detective Mcgraw’ – she nodded her head over to the corner of the tent – ‘is over there. Talking to Conor. Just in case you didn’t know he was coming.’
‘I did,’ I told her. ‘I invited him.’
I walked over to where he was standing. ‘Detective.’
‘Big event.’ He looked around. There was something accusatory in his voice. He was perched on a white trestle table, his hands resting on outstretched legs.
‘Yes, she deserved nothing less,’ I snapped. ‘Now I hope you’re comfortable. Do let Lily know if you need anything.’
‘We’ve decided to bring in some extra security. Conor and I.’
‘Look. I tried to’ – Conor shot an unpleasant look at Detective Mcgraw – ‘protect you from anything stressful but we’ve had a few alerts to something online. It’s nothing. But we’ve just got to be careful. Eager fans. You know that kind of thing.’ Detective Mcgraw stood up and opened his mouth but Conor walked over and rested his hand on my back. ‘Thank you, Detective.’ He pushed me into the corner of the marquee and whispered.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing at all. Don’t freak out. Just concentrate on Ava today. OK? I’ve got everything in hand. I’m not sure what that idiot Mcgraw had in mind freaking you out like that.’
‘What’s online?’ I felt the pull of finding out what everyone had been saying about me.
‘Nothing to worry about.’ His upper jaw twitched. ‘Nothing. OK? Just, there was an unspecific threat, that’s all. That people think you may . . .’
‘I may what?’ I felt all hot. ‘Go on.’
‘You may have been covering for Matthew again. So nothing you don’t know already.’
‘Oh, so nothing frightening?’ I rubbed at my earlobes. The gems felt heavy.
‘Of course not. Some silly teenager who’s a bit over-zealous. Trying to cause trouble and get attention by writing some stupid blog. I think he’s just trying to make a name for himself. I asked Detective Mcgraw to station some of his team around. Undercover, of course. We don’t want people thinking we’re using up police resources either.’
‘Fine,’ I told him. ‘Run me through things again?’ He looked at his clipboard.
‘Bands. Speech from the head of the missing person’s charity,’ he glanced down, ‘three p.m. for your song and first appearance.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I want silence around me in the half an hour leading up to it.’
‘Well, you can sit and watch the show. They’re setting up projectors of the crowd at the back of the tent, look.’ I followed his finger to see a huge white screen being put up. Chairs surrounded the stage with all the VIPs. I saw all the big names there already, everyone beautifully made-up, the paps aiming their lenses right at them.
And then a large metal ring lined with security guards, which separated the crowd from the VIPs. I noticed three white-shirted men, whom I knew must have been undercover cops, their eyes darting across the crowd.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘I’m going to get my make-up fixed. Then I want everyone to sit quietly and watch from here. Just before my performance . . .’ I went quiet, thinking about the way I used to sing in front of the crowds. ‘I want everyone closest to me – that’s you, Lily, Joan, Conor and Fantine, she’s worked so hard on this’ – I looked over where the head of the events team was standing dressed all in black with her hair in a short, perfectly curled bob, poised with her headset on – ‘next to me. Before I perform. I need you just to keep me calm. Then we’ll all hold hands in a circle, take a few breaths and I’ll go out onto the stage. OK?’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Whatever you need. I reckon there’ll be over thirty million watching today.’
An hour and a half before the performance Matthew came to find me.
‘Let’s sit together for this, shall we? Watch the last couple of performances?’ He leaned his head against mine. ‘I’m here. OK? You’re doing great. I believe in you. Look. Everything that has happened. Let’s move on. We’re a great team.’ He squeezed my hand. I looked up to see Detective Mcgraw staring at us. I felt soiled that he’d intruded on our intimate moment. I leaned over to kiss Matthew.
‘Yes,’ I told him. ‘We are. We’re going to do this together. Ready?’ We both sat down in the of row chairs that had been placed in front of the projector screen.
The camera panned in and out of the crowds with Roy Baggot, the commentator, talking over the footage.
‘And look there’s the lead singer from “The Kills” in the front row,’ he said. ‘And now back to the crowds, look at the expression on their faces. Distraught, they’ll never get over this, but how amazing to see everyone united in their grief.’
I was pleased that all my celebrity friends had come to support me, especially after the bad press with the autopsy report. And then there was the crowd. A new band that Joan had picked out were playing.
‘She heard them,’ Joan had told me, ‘Ava. They were the support act to that band she loved.’ She’d swallowed. ‘ “Little Mix.” ’
‘OK. Book them, when you remember who they are,’ I’d told her. ‘Speak to Lily. Ask them to perform her favourite song.’
‘And this is for Ava,’ called the lead singer. ‘We loved you so much, we watched you from the beginning and so this song is dedicated to your memory. Please donate.’ Her eyes glittered as she scanned the view in front of her.
I saw it then. The look as she absorbed the crowd. It reminded me so much of myself when I had been young.
‘Look,’ said Matthew. ‘They’re crying so much. The fans. Amazing. All for Ava,’ he said. I looked over at Joan who was biting her lip. My stomach tightened. Not long before I was on stage. And then the camera focused in on someone in the crowds. There was something about his eyes that I recognised. Then I remembered. He’d been in one of the pictures that Detective Mcgraw showed me from the events company.
I think he’d been one of the employees who had worked at the announcement and whose security check hadn’t been cleared. I remembered him because of his ponytail in t
he photograph. How I’d hoped that it had been hidden under a hairnet as he served my guests. And then I had a flash of him acting strangely. As though he might have been about to ask me for my autograph but he was too embarrassed. Assuming he was the kind who’d had posters of me all over his wall. As quick as I saw him, he vanished. I had a momentary gut-wrench but then I remembered Detective Mcgraw telling me he’d ‘checked out’, and that there was nothing to worry about. I exhaled, slowly.
‘And next,’ said the compere, ‘the moment you’ve all been waiting for. We’ll have five minutes until the amazing, the incomparable, beautiful, stunning Lara King.’ The crowd roared. ‘But before that,’ he said, ‘we’re going to have a little practice of “Amazing Grace”. As you know, it’s being launched as a charity single and I know we’re going to sing our hearts out to raise as much money as we can. Is everyone in?’ I watched the compère raise his microphone in the air.
‘We’re in,’ came the reply.
I inhaled and stood up.
‘Good. Then we’re going to have an introduction from the head of the missing person’s charity, Felicity Traynor.’
‘Joan, Conor, Lily. Come here,’ I called. They came and surrounded me. ‘Do you think there’s going to be any surprises on stage today?’ I joked to try and lighten everyone’s mood. Everyone laughed.
‘Bloody hope not,’ said Conor.
‘Right. Everyone get in a circle and hold hands. Let’s just take a moment. Let’s do this for Ava. Wherever you are, darling girl, this one’s for you.’
‘For Ava,’ they said, lifting their hands up and down over mine. I heard the crowds chanting her name. The opening chord of ‘Amazing Grace’. Their voices, carrying through the air.
‘Five-minute warning,’ Conor shouted.
‘I’m ready.’ I turned to him. ‘We’ve got this. Right?’
‘Right,’ he said but he sounded pretty unsure of himself. He kept looking over at the crowd and then at Detective Mcgraw, who was at the side of the tent, speaking to a small, compact-looking lady with an earpiece and a dark green uniform.
Your Guilty Secret Page 26