In Focus (2009)

by Jacobs, Anna

‘No. That’s not the answer and you’ll become an alcoholic if you keep turning to the bottle every time there’s trouble.’

  ‘Then I’ll damned well get one myself.’ He lurched across the room and poured himself two fingers of whisky, spilling some. Picking up the glass he tossed the amber liquid down like water, then poured some more before taking the glass back to his desk.

  ‘What did you do to her?’ Edward repeated.

  Pete stared down into his drink, shaking the glass slightly to make the whisky swirl round. ‘It was horrible. I didn’t handle it well, I admit. You should have stayed with us. You deal with these ticklish situations far better than I do.’

  Ticklish situation. Is that all it was to him? Edward had seen Beth’s grief about her brother first-hand, and was sure her mother would have been even more harrowed by the kidnapping. Suddenly his anger boiled over and he went across to the desk, grabbing Pete by his expensive shirt and jerking him to his feet. ‘What did you do to that poor woman?’

  ‘Told her I didn’t want to see her, what else?’

  ‘There’s more to it than that. A woman wouldn’t walk out with that look on her face unless someone had hurt her very badly.’

  Suddenly Pete swept the tumbler of whisky off the desk and everything else with it. ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’

  ‘So what exactly did you say?’

  ‘I offered her money. Then I said . . . I said she’d thrust herself upon me.’

  ‘I always knew you were a selfish sod, but I never realized quite how selfish till now. I don’t know why I’m even wasting my time with you.’ He turned on his heel.

  ‘Come back! I need you.’

  ‘Well, too bad. I need some fresh air. There’s something rotten in here and it stinks to high heaven.’ Edward strode out.

  As Thursday passed and his head cleared, Gerry kept getting flashbacks to the time he’d spent with Maggie. They got on well and always had a lot to say to one another, but it seemed to him that he’d done most of the talking last night. She was too damned sympathetic – it was what made her a good journalist – and he’d needed to unburden himself about the show.

  What exactly had he told her? A chill feeling settled in his belly as more memories fluttered into his mind. He couldn’t have! Surely not? By the end of the day he was pretty certain he’d let the cat out of the bag about Pete’s real mother.

  But even if he had told her, Maggie was a friend. She’d keep it quiet, not use something told by a friend. Surely?

  Only . . . it’d make a hell of a news story. The famous Pete Newbury kidnapped as a child, the man everyone loved to love treating his real mother badly, refusing even to see her.

  Oh, hell! What was he going to do?

  Gerry fumbled for his mobile and rang Maggie. Her warm voice said she was out and invited him to leave a message. His mind went blank for a minute then he said, ‘Gerry here. Give me a ring, Mag. It’s important.’

  But she didn’t ring back. He checked that his battery hadn’t run down, that his phone was still working. He left another message and sat at home all evening waiting, hoping, but there wasn’t a squeak from Maggie.

  Eighteen

  On Friday morning the story hit the headlines in one of the leading tabloids as an exclusive. Pete spluttered coffee all over it in shock as he sat at the breakfast table.

  Pete Newbury kidnapped as child.

  A Mother’s Heartbreak.

  How the hell had they found out? Had his birth mother gone to the press out of revenge? No, he couldn’t see her doing that. She wasn’t that sort of person. He didn’t know how he was so certain of that when he’d only met her once, but he was. She’d been gentle, straightforward. And he’d been— He dismissed that thought quickly.

  He scanned the article. The reporter, Maggie Quinn, even told how reluctant Pete had been to see Linda Harding.

  He’d never met this Maggie, so how could she have found that out? He couldn’t believe what he was reading, how it had been slanted to paint him in the worst possible light. And yet . . . it was all basically true.

  Was it Ilsa who’d spilled the beans? She certainly liked money, but he paid her well and . . . No, not Ilsa.

  The phone rang and when he picked it up, it was another newspaper offering him money to tell his side of the story. He slammed the phone down, angry at their effrontery, then picked it up to ring his cousin.

  He paused. Edward had walked out on him in disgust. He put the phone down, not wanting to be made to feel like a worm again.

  What was he going to do? How much credibility would he have with In Focus, a people-centred programme, once viewers read this rubbish?

  The journalist had done her research carefully. She’d even found some old newspaper articles about the kidnapping of Greg Harding, which came complete with photos of him as a child, one of them the photo his sister had showed him. He studied the images grimly. His birth father and mother, looking young and carefree. His sister, looking giggly and girlish. She wasn’t at all like that now. She seemed tight and guarded now. He didn’t understand what Edward saw in her.

  What had changed that happy little girl into such a self-contained woman? Losing her brother? Or the break-up of her whole family?

  He turned the page to find the image of himself at the age of three from his first Who Am I? segment, the image his mother had claimed wasn’t a good match. Only it looked exactly like the photo of the boy who’d vanished. He turned back to the front page and the photo that showed the scar so clearly. He looked down at his arm then back at the photo. He hadn’t needed to force a DNA test on his sister. It had been very clear from the start that he was the missing child.

  He shivered, feeling a need for the warmth of the sunlight outside, so carried the newspaper out to the balcony and re-read the article.

  Bad. It was really bad. Star spurns own mother, a subtitle said.

  He’d seen other celebrities suddenly lose their golden touch and with it, their whole careers. He shivered at the thought of that happening to him. If his popularity plummeted, so would his income, then what would he do? He had no other talents, let alone qualifications.

  He should have been more careful with his money, as Edward had advised. Clever Edward, always doing better than Pete at school, then going on to university, where he’d got a first-class degree. He wouldn’t have made such a mess of things.

  Pete buried his head in his hands and groaned.

  What the hell was he going to do?

  How was he going to save himself from disaster?

  Edward didn’t see the newspapers until he’d finished his exercise session in the pool. As he was coming out of the men’s changing room, one of the neighbours he socialized with occasionally said cheerfully, ‘You got out just in time, didn’t you? Was that why you left?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Pete Newbury.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Ah. You haven’t seen the newspapers today, then? There’s a big spread in Best of the News about your cousin. Seems he was kidnapped as a child. Lurid stuff. But is he really refusing to see his birth mother? Bit thick, that. Poor woman must have gone through hell when he vanished.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me. I’ve got to go.’ Edward grabbed the rest of his clothes and ran out to the foyer, picking up a newspaper from the stand and hurrying up to his flat.

  He flung his damp bathers and towel aside and spread the paper out on the breakfast bar. It didn’t take long to read the article and he closed his eyes for a moment in dismay as he finished it.

  This journo had really got it in for Pete.

  He reached for the phone, then withdrew his hand. No use ringing his cousin until he’d thought about what to say and do. He went to take a long shower, because that’s where he did his best thinking.

  Did he want to be involved in damage limitation? Not really.

  Did he have any choice about getting involved? None at all.

  Pete might not be h
is cousin by birth but he was like a brother by upbringing. Aunt Sue and Uncle Donald had taken Edward in when his own parents died and he owed them big time.

  No, he couldn’t walk away when Pete was in trouble, when his aunt was getting hurt by the flak. He’d have to try to help. Somehow.

  But what would this do to his relationship with Beth?

  Beth was on early turn, so was at her office by five-thirty that morning. She managed to get a lot of paperwork done because there were no emergencies, or at least the phone didn’t ring by the designated hour, so she could only assume everyone had turned up for work on time. At seven she nipped down to the café across the road to pick up something to eat and a newspaper, looking forward to a peaceful few minutes’ reading as she ate.

  As she walked up to the news-stand, she found herself staring at Pete Newbury’s face on one of the posters. It wasn’t a happy photo, either. What had happened?

  She looked at the row of newspapers. Only one seemed to be carrying the story, so she bought that, though it was a paper she didn’t usually bother with. Lower down its front page was one of the old photos showing her mother pleading for news of her missing son. Inside was the TV image from the show. There was also a photo of herself.

  Dear heaven, how had that information got out?

  She walked slowly back to work, forgetting about food, her stomach churning with anxiety.

  As she finished reading the article, she heard footsteps pound along the corridor and Sandy came in, breathless and flushed. She jabbed one finger towards the newspaper. ‘You’ve seen it, then?’

  Beth was still too shocked to do more than nod.

  ‘I thought you might need me early.’

  She forced a smile. ‘I don’t know what I need yet. I’ve only just this minute read the article.’

  ‘It’s going to upset your poor mother.’

  ‘It’s going to upset a lot of people.’

  Herself included.

  And what would it do to her relationship with Edward?

  Linda smiled at Nat as he put his folded newspaper on the table and sat down. She was cooking him one of the fluffy omelettes he loved for breakfast. She watched him tenderly as he opened out the newspaper but didn’t try to start a conversation. He hated to be disturbed when he was reading the main morning news. He took three newspapers, saying you needed several views of the world to get a fair picture.

  Just as she was about to turn back to her cooking, she saw his expression change and his mouth drop open.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  He made an involuntary movement with one hand, as if to cover the newspaper, then removed his hand and gestured to it. ‘You’d better come and look at this, love. Turn the gas off.’

  He made room beside him on the bench seat and tapped the front page.

  The headlines were enough to make her gasp and grab his arm. ‘How did they find out?’

  ‘Who knows?’

  She kept hold of Nat’s hand as she read the article, with its snide remarks about Pete rejecting her. She hated the way they portrayed her as such a pitiful creature. Maybe she had been pitiful when it first happened, but she wasn’t now. ‘They’re disgusting. All that without even a word to me, and yet they’re pretending to quote me.’

  ‘I’ll get on the phone to my lawyer. We’re not letting them get away with it.’

  ‘Pete might think I’ve done this in revenge because of him not wanting to see me.’

  ‘No one who knows you would ever believe such a thing.’

  ‘That’s the whole point, Nat: he doesn’t know me.’

  His phone rang and he picked it up. ‘Oh, hell! Thanks for letting me know, John. Yeah, I’ll work from home today.’ He slammed the phone down.

  ‘What’s the matter at the yard?’ she prompted.

  ‘John was ringing to tell me there are some reporters waiting at the gate. They know you work there and want to see you. He refused to let them inside. Smart fellow, John. Said if we came in together they might guess you’re living with me and trace you that way. He deserves a bonus. Don’t know what I’d do without him.’

  She started studying the article again. ‘What’s this going to do to Pete’s career?’

  ‘Frankly, I don’t give two hoots. He’s a spoiled, selfish brat, even if he is forty-one years old, and he hurt you badly. It’s you I care about.’

  ‘There’s Beth to consider as well, not to mention Jo and little Mikey. When the gutter press start making up tales, who knows where it will all end?’

  He pulled her to him and planted a smacking great kiss on her cheek. ‘I love you.’

  She blinked in surprise. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Always thinking about others. You’re a wonderful, caring woman.’

  She didn’t think she was all that different from other women, especially when it came to her children, but his compliment cheered her. ‘Let me finish cooking your omelette, though it’ll have lost all its fluffiness now.’

  ‘It’ll still taste good. Afterwards we’ll decide what to do.’

  ‘Is there anything we can do to stop it?’

  ‘There must be. But I confess I don’t know what.’

  ‘I’m not doing anything without consulting Beth.’

  Beth rang Edward on his private mobile. ‘Have you seen it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve not phoned Mum yet. I wanted to discuss tactics with you first.’

  ‘I’ve not got any tactics worked out. I’m still too angry to think clearly. Who do you think leaked the news?’

  ‘It won’t be anyone from my family.’

  ‘I knew that already. It won’t be my aunt and it certainly won’t be Pete, because this threatens his career big time.’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Take my word for it, yes. He’s built a reputation for being Mr Nice Guy, and most of the time he is. But this paints him as Mr Nasty.’

  ‘It’ll pass.’

  ‘Maybe, but his programme will suffer, viewer numbers will decline and maybe there won’t be another series. He was just building it up big and was ready to lease out the Who Am I? segment round the world. Our two computer gurus won’t be so pleased, either. They were set to receive good royalties.’

  It was a moment or two before he spoke again. ‘I’d better go and see Pete. It’s one thing to wash my hands of him when he’s riding high. I can’t leave him in the lurch.’

  She smiled. ‘No, I’m sure you can’t.’

  ‘I’ll come and see you later.’

  ‘No need.’

  ‘I think there will be every need. If there’s one thing everyone involved needs to do it’s present a united front to these sods. Tell your mother Pete and I are both sorry this has happened.’

  ‘You might be sorry. I doubt he is – except for it hurting his career.’

  ‘You’ve seen the worst of him. He’s not a bad guy, honest.’

  ‘I’ll have to reserve judgement on that.’

  When Beth rang her mother’s office, the foreman answered.

  ‘Nat and Linda are staying home today. We’ve got reporters just about camping out on our doorstep here, but luckily they’ve not found out that Nat and Linda are together.’

  ‘Vultures!’ She rang her mother’s new phone number and Nat picked it up.

  ‘Beth here. Can I speak to Mum?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Where are you?’

  ‘Still at work. I came in early today, before the news broke. I’ve only just found out.’ There was a commotion in the outer office. ‘What on earth—? Just a minute, Nat.’ She ran out, to be greeted by flashing cameras and a barrage of questions.

  ‘Get back inside!’ Sandy yelled. ‘I’ve rung security.’

  Beth put up one arm to shield her face and found she had to push past one man to get back into her own office.

  ‘We can pay you well for an exclusive story,’ he yelled, trying to thrust a business card into her hand.

  She let it fall and sla
mmed the door on him, leaning against it, sickened by the avid expression on his face. She picked up the phone again. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute, Nat. We’ve just had a media invasion here.’

  A man’s deep voice yelled something in the outer office and the noise subsided. There were mutters and protests, but the sound of voices gradually faded.

  Sandy poked her head round the door. ‘They’ve gone back to the corridor now. You all right?’

  ‘Yes. I’m just talking to Mum and Nat. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘Sounds bad,’ Nat said. ‘Do you want me to send an escort to get you safely home?’

  ‘I’ll see how I go.’

  ‘Here’s your mum, then.’

  Linda’s voice was firm and sounded almost normal, to Beth’s relief. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, dear. They don’t seem to realize where I am, thank goodness.’

  ‘Then you should stay there and be thankful for it.’

  ‘I can’t do that, Beth. We have to help Pete.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard perfectly well what I said.’

  ‘Why should you help that rat?’

  ‘Because he’s my son and your brother, and this is at least partly my fault.’

  ‘How can it be your fault?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have confronted him with other people nearby. Someone must have overheard us. Perhaps it was that receptionist. I don’t know. If I’d let sleeping dogs lie, just been thankful he was alive, then it’d not have got out.’

  ‘Mum, as far as I’m concerned, he deserves everything he gets.’

  ‘I don’t like to hear you being so harsh, darling.’

  ‘I can’t forgive him for hurting you.’

  ‘I can.’

  Silence, then Beth said, ‘I can’t see any way we can help him except by staying out of his way, which suits me just fine.’

  ‘There must be something we can do. I’ve not worked it out yet, but I don’t intend to let him be pilloried. I’ll ring you back later.’

  Beth put the phone down and watched as a tear plopped on to the desk beside it. She didn’t know why she was crying. Her brother wasn’t worth the tears.

  But perhaps the situation was. Everything was in such a mess and she was sure it was going to get worse before it got better. She’d been through this media circus once before, when she was much younger. She should be able to face it better now. She was a strong modern woman.