Exposé

by Paul Ilett

  But Sam no longer believed that would be enough for Adam Jaymes. He feared Project Ear was about to reveal a terrible truth about Leonard Twigg so great and so scandalous that Harvey News Group itself would be lost. After all, Twigg was an unmarried middle-aged man who still lived at home with his mother. On some estates in the UK, that alone would have been enough for a lighted rag through the letterbox.

  “Are you coming?” Colin quietly asked Twigg, as Sam and Oonagh headed out to the main office to look at the giant screen. Twigg stopped what he was doing for a moment and politely said, “I’m writing my handovers. I really don’t have time,” and then waved Colin out of his office, too. Colin knew Twigg wasn’t sentimental and wouldn’t react well to kind words or a reassuring shoulder pat. And so he did as he was asked and left him alone, following Oonagh and Sam into the newsroom and through the maze of desks to get a clear view of the Project Ear website. But as he arrived at their side he became aware of a most unexpected noise, a sound so surprising that it took a moment for him to recognise it. All around him, he could hear an entire newsroom quietly giggling.

  The reporters were all standing with their hands covering their mouths trying to suppress a wave of laughter from erupting across the whole office. Everyone was gazing upwards at the Project Ear website and as Colin attempted to assess the mood of his colleagues he noticed Oonagh was standing with her hand on her chest, looking relieved. “Is that it? Oh, thank goodness. That’s nothing at all,” he heard her say quietly to Sam.

  Colin looked upward to the giant screen that was streaming the Project Ear front page and his gaze was met by a curious sight: a head and shoulders shot of his editor, Leonard Twigg, but looking quite different to the man he had known for the past 30 years. The image that met his gaze was of a man who was entirely bald. Next to the photograph were the words “World Exclusive: T-wigg’s hair-raising secret”.

  “You’re joking,” Colin said. “Twigg’s got a rug? Rubbish. I’d have known. I would have been able to tell. Rubbish. This is bullshit.”

  “Ok, ok,” Sam said, “keep your hair on Colin,” and then he sniggered. It was just enough to tip Oonagh over the edge who then starting giggling herself. Colin looked at them both in disgust and thought of the terrible example they were setting the rest of the team. And then he burst out laughing. And everyone took that to be a sign that it was OK to find it funny and a roar of amusement filled the room.

  At his desk, Twigg’s attention was drawn briefly from his work by the noise from outside his office. For a man who shared so little of himself with others, he realised there was only one of his many secrets that could leave an entire newsroom of journalists laughing their socks off. It was the secret he had guarded most obsessively, the one he had been least willing to surrender. He flicked briefly to the Project Ear front page and there, as expected, he found a photograph of himself with no hair. He knew there was only one place it could have been taken, the one hour every couple of months when he was without his hair, a standing appointment at a clinic near Oxford Circus. He would be taken to a private cubicle where a technician would completely remove his hair system, and then take it to another room to clean it and weave new hair into any sections that were becoming thin. Once completed, the technician would return and fasten it tightly back onto his head by tying it to his own hair and sticking the front to his skin with glue and double-sided adhesive tape. Twigg would then have it cut and styled as though it was a genuine head of hair. As he continued to study the image, he realised he had never seen his own bald head before. At the clinic, he always insisted on a cubicle with no mirror and thanks to Adam Jaymes he was seeing his true self for the first time. But, for Leonard Twigg, Project Ear was a triviality he no longer cared about. He knew his mother was waiting for him. She had promised him pork chops and mash in gravy with buttered peas, his favourite meal. As soon as he had finished his emails, he would go.

  “Alright, alright,” Colin bellowed, clapping his hands at the howling mob around him. “Back to work, all of you. Start answering those phones. We’ll have a statement ready in 30 minutes. No interviews. And I don’t want to see any nonsense on your Twitter or Facebook accounts, either.” The laughter quickly subsided and the reporters returned to work. Sam’s heart began to slow back to its normal pace and he felt the tension in the air quickly evaporate. The great pressure that had been pushing down on them all for the whole day had been swept away by a story as silly as it was insignificant. The Daily Ear would live to fight another day.

  “Oh for goodness sake, this is ridiculous,” Oonagh said, wiping tears from her eyes whilst trying to keep a modicum of composure in front of the staff. “Is this really the best Adam Jaymes has left? A member of staff wears a wig? Who cares?”

  “Leonard’s going to be very embarrassed,” Sam said. “We need to go and speak with him and work out what statement to make.”

  They returned to Twigg’s office and closed the door. Oonagh went to explain what had happened but he cut her off before she could speak. “I know. I’ve seen it. It’s fine.”

  “It’s not that big a deal, Leonard,” Oonagh said. “I think he’s let us off lightly this time. So you wear a wig. So what?”

  Leonard said something in response, something muttered under his breath that no one in the room could quite distinguish.

  “What was that, Leonard?” Oonagh enquired.

  “No, I don’t,” he replied, quietly.

  “You don’t what?”

  “I do not wear a wig.”

  “But ... Adam Jaymes’ story?”

  “It is not a wig. It is a natural hair system.”

  Oonagh rolled her lips together to prevent a gasp of laughter escaping from her mouth, relieved that Twigg had continued to focus on his monitor and not her face. When she knew she was in control again, and it was safe to speak, she nodded and said, “Of course. It’s a system.”

  “What’s our line on this one?” Sam asked. “It’s times like this I do actually miss Derek. He might not have been up to much but he could encapsulate a response very efficiently.”

  “What did we say for Valerie?” Oonagh asked. “I seem to remember that was a good one. It was angry. Something about a regrettable personal matter.”

  “No, we wouldn’t get away with that one,” Colin said. “We did a feature a couple of years back. The top ten celebrity wig wearers. Might make us look a bit hypocritical.”

  Oonagh raised an eye brow and looked unimpressed. “You outed 10 celebrities for wearing a wig?”

  “Yes. But in a good way. We were trying to raise the profile of ... ”

  Oonagh raised her hand and Colin stopped speaking. “I’m sure it was for a very just cause,” she said. “So in reality, the best thing we can do is just take this one on the chin. We don’t mention it at all. Our statement will be something about how we remain committed to producing the nation’s best-selling daily paper.”

  “Perfect,” Sam said. He turned to Twigg, who continued typing with only a moderate awareness of the conversation that was taking place in front of him. “I know this is embarrassing, Twigg. But it’s a light touch compared with the others. I hope you can see that, and believe me when I say that no one will think any differently of you.”

  “Thanks,” Twigg replied, not looking up.

  “How long will you be?” Sam enquired. “We have a decoy ready to draw the photographers from the front of the building so you can get out quietly.”

  “Ten minutes and I’ll be done,” Twigg replied.

  “Ten minutes,” Sam said, and although he would rather Twigg had agreed to leave straight away, he assumed he was working on something important and so left him to it. “That’s fine. I’ll let them know.” He then exchanged glances with Oonagh and Colin as they all realised they had outstayed their welcome. “We’ll leave you to it,” he concluded and they quietly left Leonard Twigg to continue with his work.

  “He is going to have to get over himself,” Oonagh said as she and Sam ma
de their way to the lift. “He’s had things his own way for too long and he’s going to have to accept the fact that he works for me now.”

  “Give him a few days,” Sam said. “Once this wig ... um, system ... business has settled down I’ll have a chat with him.”

  At 9.15pm, Leonard Twigg sent his final email and shut down his computer. He made a neat pile of documents and papers in his in-tray, in order of priority, and left his little Nokia on top. He then walked over to the meeting table and pushed all of the chairs back into place. He surveyed his office to ensure everything was at it should be and then put on his coat, picked up his briefcase and left. It was an orderly routine that he had stuck to throughout his 30 years as editor of the Daily Ear. He always left his office in exactly the same condition as he found it. Tidy.

  As he made his way through the newsroom there was a gentle undercurrent of laughter amid the noise of shouted phone calls and rattling keyboards. But Twigg was lost in thought and so didn’t notice. His mind was distracted by an image of his elderly mother. She was sitting in her armchair with a cup of tea in her hand, watching Coronation Street whilst giving a running commentary on what was going on. It made him smile. He quietly entered the lift and travelled alone to the ground floor where he waited patiently with the guard in the security office. He watched on the colour monitors as the bogus car left the underground car park. Word quickly spread through the pack of photographers and film crews and en masse they rushed from the front of the building to try to capture a glimpse of the humiliated newspaper editor as he was driven away.

  “Good night, Bryan,” Twigg said politely and then walked through the exit and onto the busy pavement outside. He lost himself in the bustle of late night shoppers on the cold London street and became just another anonymous face as he made the familiar short journey to the local tube. Unless a major story was breaking, Twigg always travelled at about the same time; well after rush hour but before the pubs, bars and restaurants emptied for the night. The station was usually quiet and often he would be alone, a sole passenger waiting for his train home.

  At 9.25pm he arrived at his platform and, as usual, there was nobody else there. Twigg sat on a bench and waited, oblivious to the emptiness around him. He was lost in happier thoughts, of his mother dishing up dinner. They never ate on their laps. She always laid the table properly with a cloth and napkins. She would ask about his day at work, and then suggest plans for the weekend. Perhaps a visit to his aunt in Chelmsford.

  Across the track, immediately opposite Twigg, was a huge digital billboard streaming an advert for shampoo. It was a short, silent film that showed Adam Jaymes stepping from the shower, his toned and muscular torso glistening with moisture. He then stared directly at the camera and smiled, brushing his hand through his thick, glossy, dark hair. The screen then faded to black, briefly, before lighting up again and repeating the advert.

  Twigg stared at the hoarding but his mind was adrift, somewhere else. The advert repeated over and over in front of his eyes but he simply wasn’t able to recognise or acknowledge any aspect of it. In his mind he was already at home, sitting at the table eating pork chops with his mum. And so, as Leonard Twigg threw himself under the 9.33 train to Wimbledon, he had no idea that Adam Jaymes’ smiling face was beaming down on him from above.

  CHAPTER 21

  @RealAdamJaymes you may as well have pushed him under the train yourself

  “have confirmed that a man who died after falling under a moving tube train in London last night was Leonard Twigg, the editor of the Daily Ear newspaper and the most recent victim of Adam Jaymes’ ‘Project Ear’ campaign”

  Rot in hell #LeonardTwigg #WellDoneAdamjaymes #ProjectEar

  at the centre of the most recent Project Ear exposé had died in a suspected suicide. Daily Ear editor Leonard Twigg, a 55-year-old bachelor, is believed to have thrown himself under a train less than an hour after the actor Adam Jaymes published photographs which revealed he wore a wig. The chief executive of Harvey News Group, Sam Harvey, said staff at the newspaper were “completely shattered” and had been offered counselling. In a statement released this morning, Harvey said: “Management offered Leonard our full support and told him we considered him the victim of a cruel prank. We will be working with the police as they investigate this terrible tragedy, and call on Adam Jaymes to accept full responsibility for Leonard’s tragic death.

  Please remember that #LeonardTwigg make a living out of exposing other people’s private lives #ProjectEar

  “one of the most bankable stars in America. This morning, however, his career is in tatters. And even his super rich husband won’t be able to”

  “as to whether the former Doctor Who star will be facing any criminal charges. It’s been confirmed that Adam Jaymes is currently in California, preparing to film the new season of True Blood although other reports suggest the actor has gone into hiding. So far, Jaymes has declined to comment on Leonard Twigg’s death although it is believed the American cable channel HBO is under increasing pressure to suspend him, pending”

  in life was a bully and a ruthless merchant of secrets and private moments. In death, he has proven himself to be a hypocrite and a coward, unable to tolerate the smallest aspect of his own life being exposed to public scrutiny in the way he exposed the secrets of some many others

  when pranks go wrong #LeonardTwigg #ProjectEar

  “agent has described the suspected suicide of Daily Ear editor Leonard Twigg as “tragic”, but said he is satisfied the actor had broken no laws. Chris Subrt, of London-based Eric V. William Associates, said the actor could not have “reasonably foreseen” the events which unfolded. "We are very confident Adam hasn’t done anything illegal," he said”

  “no, no, what I’m saying John ... if I can just finish what I’m saying ... what I am saying, and I’m saying this with the greatest respect to Leonard Twigg’s family and friends. But what I am saying is that after a time of mourning and reflection, I hope the Daily Ear management team will see this as an opportunity to reconsider its methods. Because tragic though this is, Adam Jaymes has simply reflected back onto the Daily Ear its own actions. The very practices it has used against hundreds of celebrities, politicians and private individuals over the years. And I have no doubt that Pearl Martin’s family must be feeling some sense of justice”

  If you live by the sword, you die by the sword #LeonardTwigg#ProjectEar

  had a private meeting with the actor where he had pleaded with him to stop his hate campaign against the Daily Ear. Insiders say Harvey, the recently appointed chief executive of Harvey News Group, used the meeting to warn Jaymes that ‘Project Ear’ could end in tragedy if he did not reconsider

  “was simply giving the Daily Ear staff a taste of their own medicine. But he wakes up this morning with blood, real human blood, on his hands and I imagine he is asking himself”

  frail mother Doris, 81, was being comforted by friends and family last night after police broke the news about her son’s death. A neighbour told the Ear: “Leonard was everything to her. He was her carer, her son and her best friend. She’s been crying, saying she has nothing left worth living for. Adam Jaymes should be strung up for what he’s done to

  Why is everyone having a go at @RealAdamJaymes ? It’s not his fault Twigg could dish it out but not take it

  “The actor now faces being questioned by detectives following the death of Daily Ear editor Leonard Twigg. Scotland Yard is understood to have been in contact with police in California as it emerged Adam Jaymes had gone into hiding. The latest episode in Jaymes’ ‘Project Ear’ campaign caused public outcry when Twigg was found dead Monday night after police were called to”

  CHAPTER 22

  Valerie sat quietly in her car which was parked slightly on the kerb outside Leonard Twigg’s house, a bouquet of tulips for his mother on the passenger seat next to her. She was dressed in a black suit and was smoking another cigarette, her third since she had arrived. She was suffering an uncharacteristi
c attack of doubt, unable to bring herself to leave the car and knock at the front door. She knew the house would be bustling with family and friends, all of Twigg’s aunts and uncles rallying round to help his mother Doris through the dark days ahead. And although Valerie was visiting his mother with honest and true intentions, she knew Twigg would have still considered it a gross intrusion. Valerie had never been to Twigg’s house before, not once in all the years she had known him. Twigg had been a dear friend but always maintained a clear line between his friendships and his home life. His house was private and his mother was not shared with people from work.

  The few times Valerie had met Doris had been mostly accidental. On one occasion she had bumped into the two of them having dinner at the Oxo Tower restaurant; on another it was during high tea at Grosvenor House. Twigg had enjoyed treating his mum to dinner at fancy places; he wanted to make sure she enjoyed the financial rewards of having raised a successful son.

  The one and only time Twigg had deliberately organised for Valerie to spend time with Doris was shortly after Jeremy died. He had invited Valerie out for dinner and surprised her by arriving at the restaurant with his mother in tow. And as the evening had progressed, Valerie had understood why Twigg had brought her along. He lived his adult life amid the great, the powerful and the wealthy and stood on equal ground with all them. But the smaller parts of life, the quieter more intimate moments that forged friendships and love, those were mostly beyond him. That evening Valerie had needed a shoulder to cry on but that was well outside of Twigg’s expertise and so he had brought his mother along to do it for him.