Catherine sighed. She didn’t have anything to come back with so instead looked out of the window at the Manhattan streets and wished that none of this were happening to her. She just wanted her life back and her dad to be well. None of this – money, fame, celebrity – could make that happen.
Catherine’s phone began to ring, she reached into her bag and pulled it out – Jo. ‘Hi, Jo, have you any idea how that picture of me got out of the loft and into the Daily Mirror?’
‘Yes, Dad sent it to them, sorry.’ Catherine’s heart sank. She couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing. ‘I forgot he’d even done that until I saw the paper today. Some journo rang up and asked for childhood pictures of you and Dad just handed them over … Listen, Catherine, that’s not why I’m ringing.’
‘Can you put Dad on please …?’
‘No, Catherine, I can’t.’
Catherine was so angry with her father, what did he think he was playing at? It was almost like he was enjoying all of this. ‘Jo, please.’
‘Catherine, I need to tell you something. Are you on your own?’
Catherine looked at Kim and Star, ‘No, I’ll call you back in fifteen minutes.’
Catherine ran into the apartment building, telling Kim and Star that she would see them later. She didn’t know where was the best place to call Jo from, so she ran down the stairs into the basement where the utility rooms were. She waited for one of the washing machines to finish its spin cycle and punched Jo’s number into the phone, wondering what on earth could be wrong.
Jo picked up straight away. ‘Hi.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘This is going to be really hard to take, Catherine, but it’s the truth, just try not to freak.’
Catherine felt all of her muscles clench. ‘What? Just tell me!’ she demanded.
‘Dad hasn’t got cancer.’
‘What?’ Catherine slumped against a tumble dryer.
‘He hasn’t got cancer, Catherine. He’s not listed anywhere in the Manchester area. He has never received treatment. He’s lying.’
‘But there must be some explanation for it.’
‘There isn’t. The only thing I can work out is that he was trying to get Mum’s sympathy.’
‘By saying he had cancer?’ Catherine put her hand to her face, she couldn’t believe this. Her father had had her running around after him for months, she had been worried sick and all for what? For nothing. ‘I’m coming home, I want to see him and I want him to look me in the eye and tell me why he did it.’
‘No!’ Catherine could hear the concern in her sister’s voice, ‘You are not blowing this because of Dad, I won’t let you. You can sort it out when you come back.’
Catherine thought about it, ‘But that won’t work, Jo, will it? It will end up coming out, everyone will hate Dad and feel sorry for me, or maybe even hate me and think that it was all a set up. Besides, I can’t wait for however long it takes for me to be kicked off the competition before I confront Dad.’
Jo was quiet for a moment, ‘OK then,’ she said finally, ‘I’ll bring him to you.’
‘How?’
‘With the money that he got for his story, that’s how. Now go and do some practising.’
‘OK,’ Catherine said, hanging up, grateful to Jo but feeling utterly let down by her father.
Jo climbed out of the taxi and walked along Beech Road. She turned along the alleyway where she had left her bike weeks ago. Only the handle bars were missing. Result, she thought. She wasn’t sure how she would get it home in that state, but that wasn’t her most pressing concern; she needed to speak to her mum. Jo walked purposefully to the door and knocked. She didn’t feel sheepish, or apologetic or, at the opposite end of the spectrum, bolshie as she had in the past, she just felt she had a right to say her piece. Jo waited. A few moments later the door was opened by Karen. She stood back to let Jo into the house. Neither one said hello.
‘Coffee?’ Karen asked.
‘No, thanks, I’m not stopping.’
‘Well, that’s good because I’ve got a lot on …’
Jo would usually make some barbed remark about how busy her mum must be sitting around all day watching daytime TV and doing yoga but she didn’t; she wasn’t angry with Karen anymore, what she felt was more complicated than that. ‘OK, I’ll keep it brief.’
‘I was right about your dad, wasn’t I? He hasn’t got cancer, he’s having himself on.’
Jo knew that entering into a discussion with her mother about anything she cared about was like pouring oil on a fire. ‘I’m not here to discuss that. You and Dad have been in the papers saying he has, so you’ll be the one that has to deal with it.’
‘That’s very caring of you, Joanna,’ Karen arched an eyebrow at her daughter.
Jo desperately tried to stick to her train of thought, not to get emotional with her mum, as hard as it was. ‘I’m not getting into that with you, I’ve just come to say that I think we’re done, Mum.’
‘What do you mean, you “think we’re done”?’
‘We’ve all spent the last eight years wishing you back. And for what? I don’t need a mum, not one like you anyway. You come to New York with us and the only thing you’re there for is to make a fast buck out of Catherine …’
‘That’s not true,’ Karen cut across Jo. ‘I was there to support Catherine and when the opportunity to make some money came up I thought why not? As did your dad, might I add.’
‘And we all know that if you said “jump off a cliff” he would. But you, you know exactly what you’re doing. You never once told Catherine you were proud of her. I watched you. You just smiled at her, like she was in another room and you were looking at her through glass or something and then that was it, you were bored, like you always get bored. Well, it’s OK, that’s all I wanted to say. We’ve all got each other, as much as you’re bothered about that. And that suits us fine. So from now on, we’ll leave you alone.’
Jo walked to the door. She could feel her hand shaking so she jammed it in her jeans pocket.
‘What if I want to see you, what about that?’
‘But you won’t, will you, Mum?’ She turned around and looked at her mother, trying to keep the hurt from showing in her eyes. Karen shrugged and looked away, her eyes watery. ‘There’s my answer.’
Jo walked out and pulled the door gently behind her. She had gone to Karen’s promising herself that she wasn’t going to bang and crash and argue and she hadn’t. She should be pleased with herself, but she just felt numb. There was no happy outcome where her mother was concerned; there was just heartache and long gaping periods of wondering in between. Hopefully now, Jo thought, that would at least be something they wouldn’t have to experience and they could all get on with their lives in relative peace.
Chapter 21
ANDY HAD HAD the best week of his life. He and Catherine had been getting on brilliantly, he was working in New York on the biggest show in town and he had managed to go out in the sun everyday without burning to a crisp. Things couldn’t get any better he thought. Will had asked that he join him, Jason, Cherie and Richard for a meeting at two so he was planning on having some lunch from the deli near the park first. He was standing in the corridor waiting for the lift for what seemed like an age. When the doors finally opened, Star almost fell through them; it was obvious she had been crying.
‘Star, are you OK?’ Andy asked, trying to grab her as she barged past him.
‘Please leave me alone,’ she said, trying to wrestle her arm from Andy’s grasp. The fact that Star said ‘please’ made Andy think that maybe he should pursue this; Star never said please. He followed her into her apartment and through into her bedroom. ‘What are you doing?’ Star demanded. ‘I asked you to leave me alone.’
‘But you’re upset, I just wanted to see that you’re OK.’
‘Well, I’m not, all right? I’m not.’ The fight went out of Star’s voice, she hung her head and began to cry, her shoulders heaving. Andy d
idn’t know what to do. There were no girls around to call, no female runners on hand. He walked towards her and then backed away; he hated to see anyone this upset, but he also knew that there was a fair chance he would get his head bitten off if he got too close to Star. He tiptoed over as if he was walking through a minefield. Star stood on the spot, her shoulders pulled into her head, as if trying to make herself smaller.
‘What’s happened?’ Andy placed his hand on Star’s back. She didn’t answer, she just kept crying.
‘Come on, Star, you can tell me.’
She looked out from under her hair, her pretty face blotchy and red from crying. ‘If I tell you, you cannot tell a soul, you have to swear to me.’
Andy nodded, nervous about what he was about to hear. ‘I promise, I won’t tell anyone.’
Catherine had been sitting in the park for over an hour trying to calm down. She had tried to contact Andy but his phone had been switched off so she presumed he was in a production meeting. She and Andy had been getting on brilliantly since the other night. He was kind and sweet and charming and she fancied him rotten. Catherine never thought that she’d feel like that about someone. She knew she sounded like an old spinster, but she’d thought that if she ever did get a boyfriend it would be because they were friends and then came to some agreement about making it more than that. She didn’t know how people got to the stage where they were besotted by one another. But now she knew. She thought about Andy all the time and couldn’t even be bothered to act cool and pretend that she didn’t; it was written all over her face. She had even told Kim and Star about him and had to stop herself from inserting his name into every conversation. ‘What’s that you’re eating? Cornflakes, oh Andy eats cornflakes too!’ She wished that he was here now with her, so that she could talk this through with him.
Catherine had wanted to ring her dad and shout at him, to tell him that she had wasted too much of her life looking after him and he had lied to her. But they didn’t have conversations like that in their house. They just buried things and pretended they hadn’t happened. Only Jo got everything out in the open. If Catherine hadn’t entered Star Maker and it had come out at home, just between her family, that Mick had been lying about having cancer, then they would have all tried to sweep it under the carpet. Mick would pretend that he genuinely thought he had cancer but that it had gone and everyone else would dance around the story, and after a while even Jo would fall into line. Well, it wasn’t going to happen that way this time; once the news got out that Mick had been lying, Catherine knew that he was going to be fed to the tabloid lions.
Marching through the grand old apartment building where they were staying, Catherine’s anger began to bubble over. Thoughts of making sure her dad took his tablets every morning – what tablets were they – Smarties? A vision of her and her father on the moors flying kites – what a dupe, she thought. She needed to speak to someone about this. She pulled her phone out and dialled Andy’s number again; this time it rang but there was no answer. Catherine headed for her bedroom, she was going to get a shower and try to get herself into the right frame of mind for that afternoon’s rehearsals.
* * *
Andy pulled Star into his arms, she was a shuddering mess. He had never seen anyone this upset. ‘Why haven’t you said anything before?’ he asked.
‘What could I say? “Richard Forster has been making me sleep with him so I don’t get a bad song choice”?’ Star asked, her hair stuck to her face.
She had just told Andy that since they had arrived in New York, Richard had been making a play for her. He had asked her to come to his room and she had gone. At first she was flattered by the attention but then Cherie had seen her coming out of Richard’s apartment – the couple insisted on separate living quarters – and had followed Star, demanding to know what was going on and telling her that if she went within a foot of her husband she would make sure she never worked again. Richard, on the other hand, made it quite clear that unless she came within a foot of him – slept with him, in fact – he would make sure she never worked again. At first Star hadn’t believed him and just tried to avoid Richard. But at the first live show, when he had changed her song on the day of the performance, Star realised he meant what he said. But she also knew that Cherie meant what she said. Since then, Star had been a bag of nerves. She had been called to Richard’s living quarters three times and had slept with him twice.
Star could barely get her words out, she was so upset. Andy put his hand to her face and clumsily pushed her hair back. Star put her arms around him and fell against his chest. He felt terribly sorry for her. How could someone force someone else to sleep with them? Where was the pleasure in that? Andy felt nothing but disdain for Richard Forster; he might be one of the richest men in the world but he was nothing, in Andy’s opinion, if this was how he operated.
‘Thank you, Andy,’ Star said, still clinging to him.
Andy rubbed Star’s back. ‘No problem,’ he said.
The bedroom door opened and Andy turned round. Catherine was standing there with her mouth open, unable to believe what she was seeing.
Catherine ran through the long oak-clad corridor and down the stairs. ‘Catherine, come back!’ Andy shouted down the stairwell.
She kept running. She knew it was too good to be true. He was probably trying it on with everyone, and she’d told Star all about him the other day, saying how much she liked him; what a fool. She took the stairs two at a time.
‘Catherine!’ Andy shouted.
She could hear him catching up with her. She turned and ran along the bottom corridor leading out of the door. Andy was hot on her heels. Catherine kept running. She got to the doorway where outside a crowd of photographers and reporters had gathered. She ran out into them, fully expecting them to be waiting for someone else. She felt the crowd close in on her, pointing Dictaphones and shouting questions over one another.
‘Catherine, how does it feel to have been lied to by your own father?’
‘Have you spoken to your father, Catherine?’
‘Catherine, did you know that your father didn’t have cancer? A few people are speculating that you hatched the plan to do well in the competition.’
Catherine reeled around, trying to take in the enormity of what was happening. Everyone knew. She felt a hand around her arm and she was dragged backwards through the crowd, back into the apartment building. ‘Thank you. That will be all,’ Andy said, slamming the door shut.
‘What was all that about?’ Andy asked.
‘I might ask you the same thing,’ Catherine snapped.
‘What does that mean?’ Andy looked utterly confused.
‘Jason told me what you were like, he said you were off with a different girl every night, and like a div I didn’t listen to him.’
‘Off with a different girl every night? Star was upset, I was comforting her.’
‘Nice try, Andy. You sound like an MP who’s been caught with his pants down.’
‘I was. Go ask her.’
‘I’m not going to ask Star anything.’
‘She’s had a terrible time. Richard Forster—’ Andy stopped short.
‘Richard Forster what?’
‘Nothing. It’s not my place to say. Look, you’ve just got to believe me. I really like you, honestly. And what the bloody hell was Jason on about a different girl every night? I’m not like that! I couldn’t be like that if I tried …’
Catherine looked at Andy, his eyes were pleading with her to believe him. ‘That stuff down at the park with my hands over your eyes, I was so nervous, I thought you were going to tell me to get stuffed, but I just wanted to do something nice because I think you’re amazing and I was scared that you’d get famous and wouldn’t want to talk to someone like me anymore.’
‘I’m not like that,’ Catherine said, half flattered, half offended.
‘Well, I’m not like how you’ve just described me either. We’re both just normal, aren’t we? Caught up in this men
tal world where you get mobbed by paparazzi and people will do anything for fame.’
‘I wouldn’t. I’m sick of all this. All I ever wanted to do was sing.’ Catherine felt sick to the stomach that her family were now being dragged through the press and people seemed to want to know everything about her. ‘And look at me, I’m not eating, I’m worried sick about what’s about to come out in the British papers. It’s awful.’
‘What do you mean?’
Catherine told Andy about her dad.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’
‘I should be thrilled, shouldn’t I? He hasn’t got cancer, he’s fine. But he’s lied to all of us. And all because he wanted to get my mum’s attention.’ Catherine shook her head. ‘The silly old idiot.’
They walked back to the room. When Catherine opened the door, Star – who was sitting on her bed – pulled her knees up to her chin like a frightened child. ‘Star?’ Andy asked, ‘Could you reassure Catherine that nothing was going on between us?’
‘Andy!’ Catherine said, embarrassed.
‘With him!’ Star said rudely and then, realising that this sounded harsh, recovered with, ‘Sorry, he’s just been really lovely. I was upset and he talked to me.’
‘Upset about what?’ Catherine asked.
Star looked at Andy, the look said, should I say? Andy shrugged.
‘It’s OK, I’d rather not talk about it,’ Star said, climbing under the covers.
Andy looked at his watch, ‘I’m really sorry, I have to go to this meeting, I’ll see you in a bit?’ he asked Catherine. She followed him to the door. He kissed her and she felt a jolt of excitement run through her. ‘We’ll talk more later, OK?’
‘Yes,’ Catherine said. She really needed to talk to someone. As Andy left, Catherine wished that her family were all tucked up somewhere safely and not about to enter the full glare of a wronged media.
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