‘Edith?’ Nick said. ‘Are you alright?’
‘… Yeah?’
‘Have you seen it?’
‘What?’
‘You’re in the Mirror.’
‘I’m where?’
For a second Edie thought of fairytale mirrors, enchanted oval glasses that told Wicked Queens home truths. Then her brain aligned with the meaning: ‘I’m what?’
‘Go look online. Call me back.’
Edie pulled her laptop out and with shaking hands, brought up the Mirror website.
In the right-hand side bar, she saw, with a jolt that made her nauseous, a story with a nighttime paparazzi photo as illustration. She could recognise Elliot, and holy shitting hell, that was her with him. There were almost dots dancing in her vision, she was trying to take it in so fast. Caption. ‘Elliot Owen fight with mystery woman.’
Her stomach rolled over and she thought she might actually be sick. Edie clicked the link.
58
He was beheaded in Blood & Gold, after falling for the wrong girl – and heartthrob actor Elliot Owen may get it in the neck again when his actress girlfriend Heather Lily sees our snaps.
The 31-year-old Brit was caught having a heated debate in the street with a mystery brunette – and it didn’t look like they were discussing the show’s controversial season finale.
The star, known to millions as Prince Wulfroarer, is back in his hometown, Nottingham, filming BBC crime series, Gun City. And it seems he’s wasted no time making himself at home.
One onlooker said: ‘It was obvious she was very upset about something and he was trying to calm her down. They were talking in an incredibly intense way and seemed to know each other very well. You don’t expect to see Prince Wulfroarer having a slanging match outside your local!’
At one point, Owen appeared to hold his head in despair. When the emotional exchange was over, she jumped into a cab and went home without him – a move to baffle Owen’s army of female fans.
The incident seems to confirm rumours that Elliot and his on-off love, Lily, 28, who’s based in Manhattan, are ‘on a break’. Cryptic tweets posted by the Hampshire-born beauty last month suggested she was upset by his failure to commit.
Our well-placed source said: ‘Elliot and Heather have been done for a while but he keeps begging her for one last chance. She’s been considering taking him back but this is likely to be the last straw. Heather feels Elliot’s played her enough. He needs to decide what he wants.’
And it wasn’t just Owen who got on the wrong side of his new friend last night. His pretty brunette companion also made her feelings known to a passer-by who tried to intervene in the row, making a direct gesture with two fingers. She may need this fighting spirit if Heather decides to pay a visit to her man.
*Do you know who the girl with Elliot Owen is? Call our newsdesk now.
Edie scanned down the photos. Her and Elliot’s row, gruesomely rendered in a series of poorly composed phone pictures. There were Elliot’s hands on his head, his expression hangdog during Edie’s tirade. Edie with arms folded, scowling, as Elliot tried to placate her. And the pièce de résistance – Edie proffering the Vs to her antagonist. Oh, God. Oh no. Of course that crowd had their phones aloft, of course they did.
She couldn’t avoid ringing Elliot back now. The magnitude of the situation suspended the rules of their current conflict. You could no more scrap with someone who was helping you escape a burning building.
‘Edie,’ Elliot said as soon as he picked up, ‘you’ve seen the papers?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Elliot, I’m really sorry.’
A pause that she realised was stunned silence.
‘Why are you sorry?’
‘I should’ve realised we were being photographed and walked off faster. And not been flicking Vs at people.’
‘Don’t be daft. It was my stupidity, I followed you. And he was shouting about getting your tits out, I should’ve punched him.’
‘That would be worse, right now, I think,’ Edie said, palm on clammy forehead.
‘I’ve spoken to my publicist. She says without more photos of us together, this is probably going to be a one-day wonder. I mean, other sites will crab the story, but in terms of new news …’
‘OK,’ Edie said, trying to get her breathing under control. She sensed a big fat hairy ‘but’ coming, in Elliot’s tone.
‘But, the appeal asking about who you are. They probably will do a follow-up story once they know. And it’s not impossible Jan will stick her oar in, of course.’
‘Right,’ Edie said, dully. Oh God. She’d have to go downstairs and tell her dad …
‘Don’t worry about Heather turning up, by the way. She couldn’t find Nottingham on a map.’ Elliot hesitated. ‘Not that you’d have anything to worry about even if she did.’
Edie grasped randomly at one of many, many questions.
‘What was that about you begging Heather for one more chance?’
‘Hah, classic wasn’t it! Team Heather PR in full effect, there. Yeah, I wonder where they found this mystery source who makes me sound the wanker and her the embattled angel. “Elliot needs to decide what he wants.” More embroidery than a crafting party.’
Edie wasn’t about to be sucked back in by Elliot’s knack for a pomposity-puncturing, witty turn of phrase. She accepted they had to work together on this, but full return to former friendship? Nope.
‘What you have to do,’ Elliot continued, ‘Is warn friends and family that press might call and to not talk to them. Think of this as a fire and the more oxygen you starve from it, the quicker it goes out.’
‘The problem is, because of what happened at the wedding, there’s a large number of people who have it in for me. They’ll grab the phone as soon as they see this and say they know who I am.’ Edie hadn’t thought of this, until she said it aloud. ‘Meaning, the wedding stuff will probably come out?’
A heavy pause, one where she very much wanted Elliot to contradict her.
‘Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.’
Edie didn’t know what to say. This was 360 degrees of terrible.
‘Edie, anything I can do to protect you, I will. You don’t deserve any of this.’
‘I’m going to be notorious, all over again, aren’t I?’
She took a deep shuddering breath and couldn’t speak while she quelled the tears.
‘Edie? Are you still there?’
‘Mmm-hmm,’ she said. A hoarse whisper: ‘Just … God.’
She couldn’t stop herself doing small sobs now.
‘Shit, Edie, don’t cry. Please. It’s going to be alright. I’ll look after you, I promise.’
Lovely words, that amounted to nothing. She’d been here before.
‘S’OK,’ she gasped. ‘I’d best go tell my family.’
‘I’m so sorry that knowing me has brought this down on you. Please let me know if there’s anything more I can do. I can get my publicist to speak to you directly if it helps.’
Edie thanked him, but thought ‘don’t say anything’ was pretty clear and simple.
‘Also, Edie. About last night …’
‘Let’s park that,’ Edie said, quickly. ‘I can’t handle that right now.’
Elliot acquiesced, sounding grim.
Edie went downstairs, and found her dad and Meg in the sitting room, watching Antiques Roadshow.
‘Dad, Meg,’ she said.
‘That’s a minging clock,’ Meg said. ‘I’d sell it. It looks like something you’d find in an old paedo’s house.’
‘Do paedophiles collect a particular sort of timepiece?’ her dad said. ‘Perhaps the police need to know about this.’
‘Dad. There’s something I have to tell you both.’
They both looked up. Edie opted for a blurt.
‘I’m in the Mirror. The newspaper. Well, online. I had a … debate with Elliot in the street last night and someone took pictures. They’re saying I’m his girlfriend, but I�
�m not.’
Moments later they were clustered round Edie’s laptop on the breakfast bar, her dad peering at it with his readers on.
‘It’s not the worst thing to happen, is it? Some silly gossip?’ Her dad pointed at the third photo, where Edie, pursed lips, had her arms folded. ‘Uh oh, I know that face. Poor lad.’
‘Also. There might be another story,’ Edie said, and Meg stared at her like she had jumped out of a fireplace in a shower of Floo Powder. ‘Saying I kissed someone at their wedding. A colleague’s husband.’
‘Did you?’ said Meg, with a look of disgust.
‘Um. Yeah. He kissed me! It only lasted a moment.’
‘Ugh. Marriage is such bullshit,’ Meg said.
‘It caused them to split up.’
‘Oh dear, Edith,’ her dad said, with an expression of consternation.
‘Dad, I wasn’t having an affair or anything like that!’ Hmm. She was doing something like that. She was just eager to convey there was no sex involved, without saying it in so many words.
‘They’re back together now. But people at work think I’m at fault.’
Both her dad and Meg looked at her, at a loss for words, and Edie wished she’d copped to the whole saga as soon as she’d come home. As it was, the timing was doing her few favours.
‘Wait, is that why you’re here?’ Meg said. ‘In Nottingham? Were you sacked?’
‘No, more sidelined. Until it blows over,’ Edie said. Meg looked at her and sniffed. ‘Hah. I knew you’d only come here because you had to.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t get an airing in the gutter press, then,’ her dad said, stoutly. He glanced at the story. ‘You do look very emotional. What was happening?’
Edie couldn’t outright lie, not now. She looked at the pictures – she was quite clearly giving Elliot seven bells of hell. She’d have to go for a fudge.
‘I saw a text I shouldn’t have where Elliot said I was “hard work” sometimes. It dated back to when we were arguing in the early days. I’d had a few to drink and took offence. We’ve made up now.’
Quite a lot of mistruths there, but no way was Edie saying He said I was mad because of Mum.
‘Who are you giving the Vs to?’ Meg said, leaning over the laptop again.
‘Oh. Some man who shouted at me to get them out for the lads.’
Meg grinned. ‘Haha. Nice one.’
‘You certainly look full of personality,’ her dad said, with a smile. ‘If not your usual infectious joie de vivre.’
‘If journalists call the house, say nothing,’ Edie said, ‘Honestly, nothing. Just hang up.’
‘The landline isn’t in use any more,’ her dad said. ‘All we got were cold callers and a poor “Leonard” with Alzheimer’s.’
‘Mobiles then?’
‘I’ll be impressed if they catch me with mine switched on and Meg needs to have paid her bill.’
Edie had to admit the chances of either weren’t high.
Well. This response was a surprise. Not good, but not that bad either. Edie still had a lurking sense this wasn’t anything like the worst of it, especially if they got hold of the story about their mother. But she didn’t say so.
59
It was hard to appreciate just how unpleasant it was to be in the press for a negative reason until you’d been in the press for a negative reason. It wasn’t foul in the way Edie thought it would be, it was full on Is This Really Happening fever dream disorientating, and completely out of her control.
And even more unpleasant was having been in the press, and knowing you would be again soon.
There couldn’t be any doubt on that point. Edie had a delirious half hour where she persuaded herself that by some miraculous chance, no one had recognised her. This ludicrous hope was quickly crushed when she had a flood of mysterious friend requests on her new Facebook profile. Text message tennis had clearly been pinging back and forth. Some were complete strangers to Edie, a few clearly journalists, but most astonishingly, half a dozen from Ad Hoc.
From signing a petition to get rid of her, to begging for a friending? Incredible. (Curiously though, Edie noticed, no contact from Louis. Gossip this big? He must’ve fallen down a manhole. Euphemistically or otherwise.)
Peering through the curtains on Monday, no follow-up story having yet appeared, Edie felt it was borderline safe to leave the house, albeit via taxi. She scurried from the front door to car door with head down, feeling both ridiculously paranoid and wildly reckless.
She should’ve known not to hang around with a very famous person and not expect some notoriety to rub off on her, like tacky wet paint in a narrow hallway.
‘Hey, Christine Keeler, scandal girl. You know you’re a bloody trending topic on Twitter?’ Nick said – he’d appointed himself crisis manager – when she arrived for a huge sandwich lunch in tiny Brown Betty’s cafe.
Edie abruptly lost an appetite for her Sloppy Joe.
‘Oh God, what?!?’
‘Here. Look. It’s under the hashtag #whosthatgirl, trying to find out who you are. It seems Heather’s unpopular among Elliot Owen’s fans, after she said something in an interview about how they could never go back to dating “civilians”. They’ve decided they like you, as one in the eye to her. I think it was the V flicking that clinched it. They’re saying you’re one of them.’
Edie hit the hashtag, the third down after #RuinARomanceInOneWord and #ifBloodandGoldwassetinBritain. She saw lots of bizarre captions on the photos of her and Elliot. ‘LEGEND’ and ‘<3 this skank’ and the straightforward ‘WHO DIS?’
A horrendous thought occurred; that this hiatus before the next story was merely extra digging time. She could imagine Lucie Maguire had run up a giant O2 bill calling every journalist in the country. Edie had warned everyone she could think of not to speak to the press, which wasn’t many people. Her phone rang on and off with unrecognised mobile numbers, and when she listened to the voicemails before hastily deleting, it was anonymous voices, trying to sound ingratiating, offering her an incredible chance to tell her side of the story.
Nick protectively helped Edie into the Hackney to take her home, making sure they weren’t being observed: although he was shaking with laughter throughout.
‘Thanks loads!’ Edie said, mock huffy. In fact, he was a tonic. Much better that than someone agreeing it was the end of the world.
Edie spent a restless afternoon until Meg got back from her care home shift and said: ‘Uh. I think there’s someone across the street taking photos.’
‘What?’ Edie said. She twitched the curtain and sure enough, there was a man cradling a long lens, leaning against a car. Edie was now under house arrest. It was a vile, cornered, hunted feeling. The only conversation available was Margot, over the garden fence. She didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation.
‘How fabulous,’ Margot said, drawing on a gasper, free wrist dangling over the fence; her manicure, orange sienna. ‘If everyone thinks you’re having some how’s your father with him, might as well have some. It’s sure to have crossed his mind now, my love. Why be hung for a crime you didn’t commit, I’m sure he’ll agree.’
Edie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
And then Tuesday arrived. As soon as she saw the title of the link, Edie knew this was the story she’d feared.
It was headlined: ‘Who’s That Girl? Colourful past of new woman in Elliot Owen’s life.’ It was illustrated with photographs she worked out had been swiped from Facebook, as well as the phone images. They all seemed to design to portray a party girl – Edie saluting the camera with a cocktail, or posing with her arms slung round some of the Ad Hoc staff, big false eyelashed eyes cast to the sky, in playful mock-coyness.
Oh, God.
Speculation’s been rife about the new woman in the life of Blood & Gold star Elliot Owen, with fans anxious to uncover her identity.
The pair were seen fighting in the street in an emotional encounter at the weekend, suggesting he an
d actress Heather Lily are over for good.
The Mail can exclusively reveal that his mystery squeeze is Edie Thompson, 36, a writer working on his forthcoming autobiography. Her visits to the set of his crime drama, Gun City, have left onlookers in no doubt that she’s being very thorough in her research.
‘It’s clear to everyone on set that they’re madly into each other,’ said our source. ‘One day, Elliot had barely finished a scene before he was dragging her back to his trailer. He physically picked her up and carried her. It was pure Prince Wulfroarer. We were told it was a case of “don’t knock if it’s rocking” and it ruined the filming schedule for that day. The production team was livid.’
His ex-girlfriend Heather has made no secret of her fury at the betrayal, recently tweeting ‘When someone lets you down, rise above’ and ‘That which does not kill you makes you stronger.’
And it seems that dark-haired Thompson, who also hails from Elliot’s home town of Nottingham, is no stranger to making waves when it comes to her love life.
Although thought to be single when she met Owen, she was embroiled in a love triangle earlier this year when she was allegedly caught in a clinch with a friend’s husband – on their WEDDING day.
The marrying couple worked with Thompson at Clerkenwell-based ad agency Ad Hoc, and the controversy saw her put on leave – to write Owen’s book. The newlywed husband, Jack Marshall, was sacked for the indiscretion.
‘Edie’s a homewrecker,’ said one former friend of the ad girl. ‘What she did to Jack and Charlotte was appalling, and she had no remorse. When Edie’s around it’s a strict case of lock up your men. I’m not surprised she’s wasted no time in latching on to Elliot Owen. He has no idea who he’s dealing with.’
TROUBLED PAST
While she’s been writing the book on Owen, the sometime-advertising executive has been staying with her father and sister at their modest semi-detached house in a down-at-heel suburb of Nottingham. Her mother committed suicide in 1988 after suffering postnatal depression.
Who's That Girl? Page 30