In an industry that was brimming over with inflated egos, Laura had been his haven. She kept him grounded. At eighteen, they’d rented a damp flat together in Oxford which they could barely afford. It was at Laura’s insistence that they moved when the black mould that decorated the walls started to affect his voice. It was Laura who’d always given him the belief in himself. They never had two pennies to rub together, and it was getting to the point where he needed to make his work pay as a musician or he’d have to find another, more steady job. You couldn’t buy a home, raise a family, living from hand to mouth. For years he’d soldiered on, coming close to record deals, the promise of bigger venues, being taken on by reputable management. They were all floated, but nothing seemed to come of them and he never quite got the breaks.
As a last-ditch attempt to make the big time, Laura had encouraged him to fill in the online form for The Fame Game. At first he hadn’t wanted to sell out to a talent show. He’d seen them force artists to be something they weren’t, only to dump them when they became one-hit wonders. Then he’d come to realise that there was no other way he could do it. Time was running out and, with much reluctance, he signed on the dotted line. After that his life was no longer his own. He wondered now if either of them would have been so keen if they’d been able to foresee how it would turn out.
When he’d made it big, all their plans had been put on hold while they rode the crazy wave of fame. But as soon as they hit their thirties, they’d talked again about getting married, settling down, him stepping out of the limelight. Both of them wanted children, but neither of them wanted to bring them up in the glare of the spotlight. It was time. They knew it. The last five or more years had been crazy and Hayden had made enough money to last them a lifetime. A couple of times they’d taken a helicopter down to Cornwall, Devon or Dorset for the weekend and had looked at property there. He’d liked Dorset the best – the secluded coves, the rugged cliffs. He’d spent a lot of happy childhood holidays in that part of the country and there was always something that pulled him back. Wherever they ended up, getting out of London and retiring to the quiet seclusion of the seaside had seemed very appealing.
He’d bought Laura an engagement ring, as a surprise. His personal assistant had arranged a VIP after-hours consultation at Tiffany’s. He’d managed to slip her favourite ring out of the house for size comparison, and commissioned one accordingly. He’d wanted to buy the biggest diamond in the shop, but he knew Laura would want something more modest and he’d settled on a classy, princess-cut solitaire. They were going to their favourite restaurant, somewhere that appreciated their need for privacy and would put them in a shielded booth right at the back, away from nosy customers and photographers. The last thing Hayden wanted was anyone to catch the moment when he went down on bended knee. He’d ordered champagne on ice and arranged for Laura’s favourite flowers to be on the table.
He’d told Laura where they were going, but not why. For once, he’d advised the security team that they’d go alone. Sometimes he just wanted to remember what it was to be normal, and there were some moments in your life when you simply didn’t want an audience. Even if they were on your side.
But things hadn’t worked out as planned. What in life ever did? Laura had left him alone and she never got to see the beautiful engagement ring he’d bought for her.
Chapter Nineteen
Sabina is exhausted when I’ve finally cleared up and taken her to bed. I tuck her in and softly sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her again as if it’s a lullaby. She falls asleep almost instantly.
It’s a little bit difficult, us both being in the same room, as I don’t want to switch on the television and disturb her. This would be an excellent time to read, but I’ve only Sabina’s childish books and I’ve gone through them both with her a hundred times.
Unlike my daughter, I’m not tired. I’m what I think Crystal would called ‘wired’. Perhaps it’s due to my new ‘trendy’ image, which is taking some getting used to. Perhaps it’s a sugar rush from Sabina’s birthday cake. Or maybe it’s because I cannot get the sound of Hayden Daniels’s beautiful singing voice out of my mind.
I sit in the darkness for a while, enjoying the silence of the house. It’s simply nice to know that there’s no one who will come home to me, greedy with marital demands or ready with his fists. I push away the memory. Nothing will spoil this nice evening.
I know that counselling is the thing to do nowadays to get through such a crisis, but I could never bring myself to talk to a stranger about the things that have happened to me. I could never bring myself to talk to anyone. Not even Crystal, who seems to have a way with her that encourages confidences. Instead I must lock my memories, my thoughts, deep in my heart, keep them to myself and hope that, one day, it will feel as if it all happened to someone else. I don’t wish my past to blight the future of my daughter.
I hear Crystal’s shoes clomp down the stairs and glance at the clock on the bedside table. It’s nine o’clock and I don’t know where the time has gone. A moment later there’s a gentle knock on my door and I go to open it.
‘You’re not sitting here in the dark by yourself?’ she says.
‘Sabina is asleep,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t like to put on the television.’
‘Go and make yourself comfy in the living room for an hour. Beanie’ll be all right here on her own for a while. No one else ever uses that room. There’s a big telly, an iPod and loads of books.’
Books? My interest piques at that. ‘Perhaps I will.’
‘I’m off to work now.’ Crystal nods towards the front door. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Just wanted to say thanks for a really smashing meal.’ She massages her tummy. ‘I’m going to have to take up running while you live here.’
‘Thank you,’ I counter. ‘It was a very kind thought to have a party for Sabina.’
‘Poor kid looks like she could do with a bit of fun.’
‘Yes.’ I don’t want Sabina to be thought of as a ‘poor kid’, but there’s no doubt that her life has been lacking in lightness up until now – but all that is about to change. Our lives will be about brightness and levity. I’ll make sure to tell her every day how very much she is loved.
Crystal kisses my cheek. ‘See you, sweetheart. Whatever you do, enjoy the rest of the evening.’
She clomps down the rest of the stairs and I hear the door close behind her. Joy, I think, will already be in her room, and unless Hayden decides to have a nocturnal workout, I’m unlikely to bump into him either. He seemed in a terrible rush to be alone again, as if he could only cope with company for a very short time. I know what Crystal means now when she says that he’s a troubled man.
Checking that Sabina is still sound asleep, I let myself out of the room, quietly closing the door behind me. I wonder if I’ll ever grow accustomed to the fact that this sumptuous house is my new home, and I hope that we’ll be allowed to stay here for a long time. It’s early days, I know, but I still feel something of an intruder here.
I go downstairs and let myself into the living room. It’s dark now, so I turn on the light but keep it dimmed right down. The room is a little chilly, but I feel unable to switch on the fire to warm it. I should like to request permission to do so, and there’s nobody to ask.
A large television is fixed to the wall, remote control on the shelf beneath it, but I don’t feel like watching television yet. There are books too, lots of them. So many that I feel overwhelmed. How can one person own so many? I could read a book a week for the rest of my life and still never run out. I browse some of the titles, running my fingers over the spines, but I don’t know where to start. Some of them have words that are too long for me to understand, and I hate this feeling of ignorance. My eyes light on a couple of rows of pretty covers – pinks, yellows, pale blues. They look bright and welcoming. I’d like something fun to read, not a book about murders or crime. There’s one called Bridget Jones’s Diary. Perhaps this will help me to learn about what it is to
be a modern woman. I lift the book from the shelf, hoping that no one will mind, and clutch it to my chest.
There’s a sofa with a reading lamp next to it where I can sit, and I turn it on. It provides a warm glow to a little patch of the cushions. However, before I settle there with my chosen novel, I peruse the room. The walls at one end are covered with gold and silver records, in picture frames like a gallery. I look closer and am not surprised to see that they’ve all been awarded to Hayden Daniels for a variety of songs and achievements. There are pictures of him with various celebrities – some of whom even I recognise, and I’m the first to admit that I’ve led a sheltered existence.
On top of the piano there’s a pretty girl with blonde, flowing hair and skin that’s creamy white. I wonder if this is the girlfriend who’s now gone? He must have loved her very much to have been so badly affected by her departure. It’s a shame that Hayden doesn’t sing any more. From what little I heard, it seems as if he well deserves all of these accolades.
There’s an iPod slotted into a player and I think that it would be nice to hear some music for company. Without my daughter, I always feel so terribly alone. I flick through the playlists, a luxury I was never afforded at home, so I don’t really know what I like.
I scroll through the names of various artists, but none of them means anything to me. And then I see a playlist of Hayden’s own songs. ‘My For Ever Love’, ‘The Miss You Years’, ‘Everything About You’. To my shame, I must say that I don’t know any of these songs either.
Pressing the screen, I make my selection. ‘My For Ever Love’ starts to play. It’s a haunting song, a ballad. I keep the sound low so as not to disturb the household.
Hayden’s voice is mesmerising, moving. Tears spring to my eyes as I listen to the bittersweet lyrics and I start to sway. When I was Sabina’s age I loved to dance, but I can’t remember when last I did. My body feels stiff, as if it’s fighting the rhythm rather than flowing with it. My muscles, my spirit feel clenched and tight. I’d like to sense these notes in my veins, but I don’t know how. I put down my book and attempt to move my arms in time to the music. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and try to let the sounds wash over me. Risking a twirl, I finally start to pick up on the mood and my rigid movements start to soften. This feels good. So very good. I must add to my list of Things To Do in my new life: dance more.
Chapter Twenty
Turning over, he reached out for Laura but, as always, the other side of his bed was empty, and that was enough to jolt him awake. Hayden sat up and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. His mouth was parched, his pillow wet where he’d cried in his sleep. He must have dozed off, but when he woke, he was still thinking of Laura.
It seemed as if every time he closed his eyes he went through this. All this time and he still hadn’t learned a way to block it out. Without even trying, he could see every second of that fateful day play out before him as if it was happening all over again.
He and Laura were happy, hand in hand, as they left the house. Her blonde hair swinging in the sunlight, pretty laughter on her lips. She’d insisted on driving, thoughtful as ever. Hayden had been in the recording studio the night before until late and she’d said she thought he looked tired. He didn’t feel tired at all. He felt elated, almost giddy with excitement. He was going to ask the woman he loved to marry him, and he couldn’t wait. The restaurant wasn’t far, ten minutes away at the very most, so, at Laura’s insistence, he’d settled into the passenger seat next to her.
They’d both put on dark glasses ready to swing out of the drive, and Hayden had pulled down his customary wool hat. The ring was nestled in his pocket and he got a buzz of excitement as he thought about how Laura would react. She’d love that he’d been so clever, so secretive. Especially when it would have been so easy for someone to snap him coming out of Tiffany’s. He smiled to himself.
‘What are you grinning at?’ she asked, squeezing his knee.
‘You’ll see,’ he said, smug.
But she didn’t. As they pulled out of the gate and turned towards Hampstead, two paparazzi jumped on to a scooter and gave chase. They followed them, right on their tail. So close that Hayden could see the whites of their eyes.
‘Idiots!’ Laura tutted. ‘If I have to brake hard they’ll go right over the top of us.’
Seconds later they’d come up on the left side of the car, a dangerous undertaking move, and the guy on the back pointed his camera at the car window. Hayden turned away and lifted his hand to block his face.
‘I can’t get away from them,’ Laura complained.
The road narrowed for a speed restriction and she slowed right down. The scooter swerved in front of them and braked hard so that the man on the back could twist to snap them.
‘They are a total pain in the arse,’ she muttered.
Laura had to swerve to miss them as they danced about in front of the car.
‘Watch out!’ Hayden had shouted. Sometimes he still called it out in his sleep.
He’d tried to grab the steering wheel. But, instead of taking out the scooter, Laura had hit a bollard at the side of the road at a dangerous angle. Before he knew what was happening, the car had flipped on its side, slewing across the road. The windscreen shattered and shards of glass showered over them both. There was a terrible screeching of metal and the blaring of a horn. Hayden crouched down, hands over his head. There was a van heading towards them which also had to swerve to avoid the scooter. He could see the driver fighting to keep control, the panic in his eyes. It was too late, there was nowhere for him to go and, in awful slow motion, he’d hit them head-on. The noise was terrible, it sounded like a bomb exploding. There was a ringing in Hayden’s ears and then he felt a thump in his chest as his airbag went off and all of his breath seemed to leave his body.
Laura wasn’t so lucky. Her airbag failed to inflate and he heard her blood-chilling scream as she was thrown forward, slamming into the steering wheel at full force. Then, when all the sounds of metal on metal stopped, there was nothing. Just a terrible, eerie silence.
He was unaware at the time, but the photographers had fled the scene, leaving the stricken van driver to call for an ambulance while Hayden cradled Laura. Blood was pouring from a gaping wound in her chest. It covered his hands, spilled on to her clothes, on to the floor of the car. It seemed like the emergency services were taking an age to arrive and every time he asked, the van driver told him they were on the way. Hayden talked to Laura the whole time, held her to him.
‘Hold on, sweetheart,’ he murmured softly. ‘Not long now.’ He’d stroked her face, her hair, wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘I’m going,’ she said.
‘No, no, you’re not,’ he insisted. ‘You’ll be fine. Absolutely fine.’
Desperately he tried to keep her spirits up, keep her with him, but her face was becoming paler and paler. Her eyes seemed to glaze over and dim. There was a bubbling sound in her breathing and her lips were turning blue.
‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t leave me. We’re going to have such a long and happy life together.’
As he heard the ambulance sirens approaching, Laura turned to him. Light came back into her eyes. Her mouth opened, but he could tell she was struggling to find the words. He put his face close to hers.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, barely audible. Her hand had reached up to touch his face and he’d held it there, tightly. ‘I love you.’
Then she’d slipped away from him. He’d watched as the life drained from the love of his life and there wasn’t a single thing he’d been able to do to stop it. All the money in the world couldn’t bring her back. Every day he knew that he would have given up everything – all his worldly goods, all his money, all the trappings of fame – for just one more hour with her. None of them meant anything to him now.
Hayden pushed his memories aside and, once again, the reality of being all alone hit him hard. He put his hands to his face and found it wet with tea
rs. The pain of that moment never went. It gnawed in his heart like a voracious parasite. The light in his life had gone out that day. He’d turned his back on the music industry and had never played nor sung a note since. He’d never wanted to. Laura was gone. She was never coming back and nothing could change that.
He’d buried his reason for living in a dark, damp grave on an obscenely sunny day. The beautiful engagement ring that she’d never known about was on her cold finger.
The paparazzi who caused the accident got off lightly. When the police had eventually tracked them down, the photographer on the back hadn’t been charged with a single offence. The man in control of the scooter had been charged with death by careless driving. He’d pleaded guilty and been given a paltry twelve-month custodial sentence and a two-year ban from driving. He was free again six months later and back in his old job harassing celebrities. Not much in the way of punishment for robbing someone of their life, which only added to Hayden’s pain. He wondered if either of the guilty men woke up drenched in cold sweat in the middle of the night, reliving the accident in their dreams, as he did.
‘What ifs haunted Hayden both night and day. What if they’d gone somewhere else? What if he’d been driving? Would Laura have survived? What if he hadn’t dismissed the security team? Would they have been the ones to have taken the brunt? If he could turn back the clock, could he have prevented it in any way?
Climbing off the bed, he went to wash the tears from his face in the en suite bathroom. If only he could wash the tears from his heart as easily.
He stared at the thin, pale face that looked back at him. Laura would be cross with how he was dealing with this. He knew that. He just couldn’t help it. She’d want him to be out there, living his life. Until this evening he’d thought he could quite happily stay in this room for ever. Now what? Tonight something inside him had shifted, and he wasn’t sure what.
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