by Paul Ilett
“Audrey, leave it! You’re going to make yourself ill,” Howard replied. “Now just enjoy your evening.” Smartly dressed in a black tux with a red dicky bow, he reached across the table and patted his ex-wife on the hand. He wanted to show her more affection, but Estelle was seated at his side watching everything he did, listening to every word and judging the tiniest inflection in his voice. And he wasn’t in the mood for another fight.
Audrey sighed and sat back in her chair. She looked around the packed venue, garlanded with overhead lights and speakers and cameras, and realised she was obsessing about something that simply couldn’t be changed. “Yes, yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. I hoped this evening would be better for us. For all of us. I just cannot believe Valerie would do that.”
“Audrey, it’s all fine,” Oonagh said. “The security coming into this place was first class. There’s not a camera or mobile phone anywhere. Adam Jaymes is going to be very disappointed when he realises he can’t make his final phone call. And it’s a big let-down for all those idiots who thought they’d spend the evening taking pictures of us. Now, the show’s going to start any minute, and we’ll have two hours of fantastic telly. All those wonderful children and soldiers and people with their amazing stories. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.”
Audrey smiled and nodded a gracious ‘thank you’ at Oonagh but couldn’t move past her feeling of how conspicuous they were. Every other table seated at least 10 people, but even with Howard, Estelle and Felicity, the Harvey table only sat six. “It does feel strange,” Audrey said, quietly, “being here without the others. No Leonard or Colin, Valerie out there with the news and everyone else watching. All those eyes peering across the tables at us, waiting for us to fall down.”
“Whatever,” Howard said, clearly in no mood to pander to Adam Jaymes’ drama. “This will all be over before you know it and then, I promise you, I’ll personally bury Adam Jaymes once and for all.”
Estelle sat next to Howard in a dramatic black gown of feathers and sequins. Her hair was tightly weaved into an oversized top knot and her ears and neck were adorned with dazzling jewels and silver. She could not have looked more like a drag queen if she’d tried, but Howard was still so filled with contempt for her that he decided to say nothing and instead let her be further ridiculed by the media. “Perhaps you should just admit when you’re beat, darling,” she said, a flute of champagne in her hand and clearly irritated by his continued intimacy with his ex-wife. “Adam Jaymes’ husband is a lot richer than you. And more powerful. I’ve heard he’s thinking of buying you out and shutting down the Daily Ear for good. Mind you, the way things are going he probably won’t need to.”
Howard sneered at Estelle and Audrey could tell he was spoiling for a fight, so tapped his hand and shook her head. “Oonagh’s right. Let’s try to enjoy the show,” she said.
The Amazing People Awards theme tune exploded from the speakers, and the audience hum swelled into an enormous applause as the host took to the stage. She was one of the TV blondes, but Audrey couldn’t remember which one. There was a grand opening monologue, something about British values and the recession, and then the awards began. Everything progressed normally as it had every year before. And Audrey relaxed and began to think that perhaps – just perhaps – this year would be as successful as any other. She allowed herself a moment of hope, that Adam Jaymes had changed his mind and nothing would happen.
She looked across the table at the beautiful girl she had brought as her personal guest, someone she hoped would say nice things about the Harveys when no one else did. Felicity had attempted to arrive quietly, without a fuss. But she looked so exquisite that she had drawn the attention of almost everyone in the room, and Audrey knew her place at the Harvey table had created something of a buzz around the event. Everyone wanted to know who she was.
Audrey then looked to her son who was sitting hand in hand with his new love, suddenly relaxed and enjoying the evening along with everyone else. In comparison, her ex-husband and his new wife remained stern and distant with each other. Howard turned and smiled at her reassuringly before turning back to the stage. It was a fleeting private moment between a man and his ex-wife, a show of warmth and familiarity that suggested they had unfinished business. It was smile that still somehow left Audrey a little weak at the knees.
It was another dark, dismal night in another generic hotel bar. Colin stared glumly at his third glass of pinot and tried to find some solace in the fact that, just for once, he wasn’t working. He didn’t have to file any copy by some impossible deadline or spend the evening making endless phone calls to keep tabs on his prey. For once he could just sit, and drink, and relax, and wallow. He occasionally glanced over to the widescreen TV, where the settees and armchairs had been claimed by a dozen or so excited business travellers all merrily tanked-up and anxiously waiting for Adam Jaymes’ final exposé. The barman had been nice to Colin. A young blonde guy from Australia or New Zealand, who’d kept his glass filled and shown great patience when Colin had spoken at length about his awful day. It was only when the barman had slipped him his phone number that Colin realised he was being cruised, but by that stage he didn’t care. A gay shoulder to cry on was as good as any other.
“It’s Colin Merroney, isn’t it?” a woman asked, leaning against the bar. She was about the same age as Colin, and the wide-eyed expression on her pretty face showed how surprised she was to have run into him. Her blonde hair was cut short and she wore a thick jumper and boot-cut jeans. He couldn’t work out if she was staff or a guest and where she knew him from, but he could tell by her voice that she was English.
“Sorry?” he asked.
“Oh, you must remember me. Dee? Dee Hughes?”
Colin hated situations like this. His life was different to other people. His world was big and busy and filled with thousands of fleeting encounters and short conversations. Everyone remembered meeting Colin Merroney but he always struggled with the faces and names of the ordinary people whose lives he had touched. And so he shrugged and raised his hands, an honest gesture to show he had no idea who Dee Hughes was.
“Well, you’ve ruined so many lives over the years I can’t say I’m surprised you don’t remember me.”
“Oh!” Colin thought. “It’s going to be one of those conversations.”
“Let me refresh your memory. I’m the girl who dumped her fiancée and ran off with the bridesmaid. You remember? About 30 years ago, you stood on my doorstep and demanded an exclusive interview and when I had the audacity to decline you decided to ruin my life. You must remember, surely?”
Colin remembered the story, of course. Dee had jilted her fiancée a few days before their wedding and run off with her best friend. The humiliated groom had been a champion body builder and was considered something of an Adonis. The picture opportunities had been endless.
“We moved after you printed that revolting story,” Dee said. “We had to move hundreds of miles away because you made it impossible for me and Tina to stay in our home town. It wasn’t enough to just prostitute my private life to sell your fucking newspaper, was it? You had to print all those lies other people told you. People who didn’t even know us. But you know what, all these years later, we’re still together. And despite your best efforts we’re very happy. This is our hotel.”
“It was booked for me. I had no idea,” Colin replied, feeling he had to explain the coincidence so she didn’t think he was stalking her. “And, to be fair, the reason I came to see you was to give you the chance to respond to those accusations.”
Dee moved forward and for a moment it looked as though she was about to strike Colin around the face, but she didn’t. “I shouldn’t have had to respond to anything,” she yelled angrily. “This was a private matter, a very painful, private matter. What business was it of yours, of anyone outside of my family? But you went and found all the local busybodies, people who didn’t even know us but who wanted to have their say on my private life. They accus
ed me and Tina of everything from financial fraud to all kinds of sexual deviance and you printed it, every last word of it. How dare you! How fucking dare you!”
Colin knew he was onto a losing battle. There, in front of him, was 30 years of anger and resentment. Dee had probably rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in her head and there was no way he could compete with that. All he had in his defence was a seriously injured wife and a new baby son. He hoped that would be enough. “Dee,” he said, sadly, “the story was out there. If I hadn’t knocked on your door, someone else would have done. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m just trying to have a quiet drink in your lovely hotel. My wife’s in hospital and - ” and suddenly his pinot was all over his face. The bar went quiet. Even the barman failed to rush to his aid.
“I know all about your wife and I am thrilled that you are having such a fucking horrible day,” Dee said. “I hope every shade of shit under the sun rains down on you from a great height. Because however horrible your day, no matter how bad your life becomes, just know ... just KNOW ... that you deserve every vile, horrible, disgusting second of it.” She picked up some paper napkins from the bar and threw them at him. “Have that one on the house,” she snapped and then walked out.
Once Dee was gone, the barman hurried over with a cloth napkin and the awkward silence quickly turned into a hum of excited, whispered conversations.
“Well, you can take the girl out of Essex ...” Colin said, drying his face and chuckling a little to show he had kept his sense of humour.
“She’s OK. They both are, actually. They’re really good people. I’m not sure what all that was about,” the barman replied looking a little mystified, and then he refilled the empty wine glass.
Colin had a special reason for remembering Dee. He had only just turned 18 and it was the first time he’d been sent on his own to doorstep anyone. He remembered the bright, sunny cul-de-sac that was so ordinary and so silent in the middle of the day. He remembered marching up to her semi-detached house with a fake bravado that all but vanished when she coyly answered the door and peeked through the crack, a gold security chain hanging down in front of her pale face. He remembered her nervous, frail voice as she asked if she could help and the tiny gasp of genuine horror as he introduced himself and explained he was from the Daily Ear. He remembered the timid, polite way she had told him she didn’t want to speak to him and then closed the door again, hoping that would be the end of the matter. And finally he remembered ambling back to the train station with his hands in his pockets, feeling very much at odds with what he had just tried to do.
But his news editor was furious when he returned without an interview and immediately sent him back with a clear instruction – get something. And so Colin returned to the sunny little town and unexpectedly found a multitude of local people willing to give back stories and make accusations and offer disapproving comments. He quickly learnt there was little room for sentiment or empathy if he wanted to get on. And with each job, with every successive doorstep or phone call, his conscience was less troubled. Eventually his guilt faded entirely and he grew increasingly angry and frustrated if anyone refused his request for an interview. He pursued those who ran and hid, and discovered the most remarkable ability to track down the most elusive of stars. His boyish charm – that smile and those dimples – helped him draw information from the most trusted of friends. His reputation as the ‘Kiss-and-Tell King’ was well earned. But as he sipped from his glass of wine he could sense for a moment, just a brief moment, the young man he used to be, staring at him from that sunny cul-de-sac all those years ago. And he doubted that young man would like what he had become.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the host boomed, her empty eyes staring at the autocue and her voice loud and flat, “a big hand for Kyle and his amazing, courageous mum Shirley.” The audience cheered and applauded as a little scrap of a lad in a boy’s tuxedo took his mum’s hand and escorted her from the stage. Shirley, in a new dress she’d starved herself for three months to fit into, proudly held her Amazing People Award aloft as they disappeared from sight.
“And when we come back we’ll have another amazing surprise for a very special someone, right here in the audience. Believe me, you will not want to miss this!” The theme tune played, the host beamed at the camera and the audience applauded as the channel clicked to the adverts. As the applause subsided, the venue filled with the hum of excited conversation.
Audrey was thrilled. Everything had gone perfectly. Every entrance, dress change, surprise appearance and video-taped sob-story had gone exactly to plan. There was a real buzz at the venue, and it seemed as though everyone had forgotten all about Adam Jaymes. “One more surprise and we’re done for another year,” she said to Howard and then quietly enquired, “Are you and Estelle both coming back to the house for drinks?”
Howard leaned towards her ever so slightly but kept his eyes to the stage so as not to draw Estelle’s attention. “One of us will be,” he replied and then sat back into his original position. It was suddenly as if he and Audrey had a little secret, something only the pair of them knew but no one else not even his wife.
Audrey had quietly accepted her own truth, that she would take Howard back in a heartbeat. She wasn’t proud of that and certainly wasn’t looking forward to the melodramas that would come hand in hand with a potential reunion. But she had finally forgiven Howard for the morning he’d left and for that awful conversation, for the moment he had rolled over in bed and stared at her like she was a stranger and asked, “Why am I in bed with an old woman?” Within 10 minutes he had washed, dressed, packed his bags and left. Audrey had simply sat on the side of the bed, quietly watching as her marriage vanished right in front of her. She had remained silent because she knew it would have been undignified to plead. And now so many lost years later, Howard finally seemed ready to call it a day with Estelle and Audrey was ready and willing to take him back. “Nearly done,” she said.
Sam watched from the other side of the table, a little perplexed by the body language between his parents and wondering if a reunion had somehow become a genuine possibility. And then he pondered the implications for Estelle if she were to become Howard’s childless ex-wife. Estelle had sat with her back to the table for most of the evening, only occasionally turning back to criticise something Howard had said. Sam wondered if on some level she knew what was going on, that this wasn’t just another marital row and that her husband’s affections had already been restored to his first wife. He wondered if Estelle herself was equally bored of it all, and that her marriage to a man so much older than she (albeit one of the wealthiest men in the country) was a novelty that had finally worn thin. Perhaps, he thought, she would go quietly, take the money and run off into the sunset with the manager of some premiership football team.
“We’re uploading all of this to the website as we go along,” Oonagh said, affectionately squeezing Sam’s hand. “And I must give Valerie some credit. She did a great job getting all of these stories written up. It’s a terrible shame, really, because she is a truly great writer. Her interviews are just superb, full of emotion. So much clout.”
“She needs a new vocation. Perhaps she’ll find something where she can put her skills to better use,” Sam replied. “Perhaps she’ll get a column in Attitude magazine.”
Oonagh chuckled but then noticed that Felicity, sitting next to her, was quietly looking to the empty stage, her arms folded and with no one to talk to. She reached over and touched the girl’s shoulder, and Felicity looked at her and immediately smiled politely. “Sorry, my mind was wandering,” she said.
“I just wanted to say how lovely you look this evening,” Oonagh said.
“Oh, this is all Audrey,” Felicity said, refusing to take any credit for the way she looked. “She really spoilt me.”
“Oh no, you’re a beautiful girl,” Oonagh replied. “I hope you’re getting some photographs taken to show your parents.”
Felicity smiled and nodded.
“Listen,” Oonagh said, a more business-like tone to her voice. “I’ve had a lot of really positive feedback about you, Felicity. Everyone is singing your praises. Sam has really appreciated your help and support since he first arrived. I know you have to go back to college to complete your course, but I wanted to talk to you about an opportunity I could offer you once that’s done. Let’s have a conversation early next week. I think the team at dailyear.com could do with someone like you. It would be a really good fit. We’d start with a support role but, you know how these things go, there would be plenty of development opportunities. Travel, events, training. Promise me you’ll think about it. I’d love to have you on board.”
For Felicity the opportunity to stay with the Daily Ear came completely out of the blue. Whilst it was flattering to hear she had made a good impression, she was ready to leave the newspaper and get on with the rest of her life. All she could manage in reply to Oonagh’s offer was a polite smile and a nod.
“This has been a great event,” Sam said, smiling proudly at his mother. “I think we’ll be back on ITV next year.”
“Oh, we’ll see,” Audrey said. “Apart from that silly mishap on the red carpet with Valerie, I think the production company’s done a great job. We’ve got a mop-up with them in a couple of days. I’ll give them your feedback.”
“It’s Indigo, isn’t it?” Oonagh asked.
“No, not this year. One of the big changes. We lost Indigo,” Audrey replied. “We went with Trojan Horse. Have you heard of them? They’re American but they’ve just starting to work in the UK, too. They’re very successful.”