by Jane Lythell
‘Sorry I lied.’
‘Shhh now. You’re sure you’re not hurt?’
‘I’m fine, now you’re here.’
I hugged her close again.
‘Where’s Harriet?’
‘They took her to the cubicles. Her mum arrived right after I called you.’
‘Is she conscious?’
‘I think so.’
It came out piece by piece. She hadn’t been with Rosie. She’d gone to the Cat and Mouse with Paige. They hadn’t arrived till ten p.m. and their names were on the door. They’d watched the band and it was crowded, hot and noisy. Paige had been dancing with a boy and Flo went to the bar to get water for them both. A drunk sleazeball old enough to be her father had homed in on her. Harriet had suddenly appeared and stood between Flo and the man. She’d said something to the man and he’d told her to get out of his way and when she answered back he had swung at her and hit her face. Harriet banged her head on a table as she went down. Then drinks had gone flying and tables had been overturned. Flo was kneeling by Harriet and she was out cold. Paige had disappeared when the trouble broke out. An ambulance had come to the venue. Flo had sat in the back of the ambulance with Harriet. The paramedics had been kind to her.
Flo’s face was smeared and her clothes smelled of beer and cigarette smoke. She was wearing her black miniskirt but I didn’t recognise the top which was made of shiny black material with a skull on the front. She had no jacket with her.
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
I felt no anger at all. I was filled with an overwhelming need to protect my girl and the deepest gratitude towards Harriet.
‘Come on. We’ll go and see what’s going on,’ I said.
Harriet was in one of the A & E cubicles and a woman was sitting on the side of her bed talking to a nurse. It had to be her mother – I heard her say: ‘We’d like to get her moved into a private room as soon as possible.’
Harriet’s eyes were closed. She opened them and she saw us. I had my arm around Flo’s shoulders as I needed to keep her close to my body.
‘Hello,’ she whispered.
I was scanning her face and could see a large bruise forming on her right cheek. She closed her eyes again but she was conscious, thank God she was conscious. I leaned over her bed.
‘Thank you, Harriet,’ I said.
Her eyelids flickered.
‘I’m Sophie Dodd, Harriet’s mother.’
I pulled my eyes away from Harriet’s face. I was looking at an older, more sophisticated version of Harriet, a woman with the same hooded eyelids as her daughter, but hers made her look patrician rather than sleepy.
‘Liz Lyon. Flo told me what happened. I’m so shocked, so grateful to Harriet.’ I was finding it hard to control my voice.
‘The doctor said she’s going to be OK. We’ve asked them to keep her in for a couple of nights to check for concussion or any after-effects,’ her mother said.
‘She was trying to help Flo. She did help Flo. She’s so brave and I... I can’t thank her enough.’
We said goodbye to Harriet who was drifting in and out of sleep and barely aware we were there. As we left, Sophie Dodd followed us out into the waiting area.
‘I wanted to thank you. Harriet’s had a tough time settling into work. She’s trying to make something of her job now and she said you’ve been very supportive.’
There was little she could have said to make me feel worse.
Chalk Farm flat, 3.15 a.m.
Finally we were back in the flat.
‘Can I sleep in your bed tonight, Mum?’ Flo said.
‘Course you can.’
She used to sleep in my bed all the time when she was little and scared of the dark. As she was getting undressed I noticed that she was wearing my best red satin bra under her top. She slipped it off and pulled on the T-shirt I handed her with a wary glance at me. Under normal circumstances this would have angered me, the idea that nothing I owned was off limits and that she felt she could help herself. I said nothing, it could not have mattered less. We got into bed and I held her close to me and her hair was sticky.
Chalk Farm flat, Saturday
We slept till lunchtime. I ran a bath for Flo with my best bath oil, she slid into the water and I left her to have a good soak. I wondered if I should call mum but she made a comment last year which still rankles with me. She had stayed with us for the weekend to prepare me for her plan to volunteer with the Voluntary Service Overseas once she retired. She had been to a workshop at VSO and they welcomed volunteers in their sixties she said. There was much work to be done in Africa and the projects that interested her ran for two years. She was sorry this meant she would see less of me and Flo if she did sign up but VSO paid for one visit back home a year. I knew she would go and I was fed up. I pointed out how little time she currently spent with Flo.
And that was when she said: ‘This isn’t about me, or me finding more time for Flo. You’re a good mother to your team at work but you need to put Flo first. Before you know it she’ll be all grown up and you’ll regret the lost years.’
I’d argued with her saying how else could I give Flo a good home if I didn’t work full time? But Mum was right. The hours at StoryWorld were so long and the demands so insistent.
I made us eggy bread with maple syrup. Afterwards we sat on the sofa and Flo put her feet on my lap. She plugged her earphones into her tablet and settled down to watch her favourite series. I stroked her feet. Last night had thrown things into sharp relief for me. Creating a good home for Flo and keeping her safe is what gives a purpose to my life. When I was her age there had been one girl at my school who had anorexia. She would bring a single orange in to school to eat at lunchtime and we watched as her head got larger in relation to her shrinking frame. Then she left the school and we never saw her again. But she was the exception. I had seen recent reports in the news that there was now an epidemic of eating disorders and self-harming among girls of Flo’s age. How much did I know about what my daughter was thinking and feeling? Flo has long thin feet like her dad. Should I ring Ben and tell him what had happened? She took her earphones out.
‘Paige ran away and she hasn’t even texted to see if I’m OK.’
‘True friends don’t do that,’ I said.
She chewed on her thumbnail.
‘Darling, I’d prefer it if in future you invite Paige here if you want to see her. I’d rather you didn’t go over to her house.’
‘You don’t like her, do you?’
When I thought about Paige I could feel my face hardening and my bile rising.
‘I hate it that she ran away when you were in trouble. Thank goodness Harriet was there to help you.’
‘Please don’t tell Dad.’
I gave her feet a squeeze.
‘Or Janis,’ she said.
‘I think you should tell Janis but I won’t tell Dad.’
‘Why do I need to tell Janis?’
‘Because it’s her job to be here when I can’t be and I think she needs to know what’s going on.’
*
We visited Harriet that evening. She had been moved to a private room on a different wing. She was sitting up in bed and the bruise on her cheek was darker. She was pleased to see us and pushed her hair away from her face and winced as she touched her cheek.
‘Does your cheek hurt a lot?’
‘It is sore.’
Flo had noticed the big TV on the wall.
‘Does it have Netflix?’
‘Yes, but I can’t stay awake long enough to watch anything. I wish I could come back to work on Monday but Mum is insisting we go to the country for a couple of days. I’ll take it as leave.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ I said.
‘I want to. I don’t want to keep being off sick.’
She turned to Flo. ‘I’m dying for something to read. Does the shop downstairs have any magazines?’
‘Yes, lots.’
‘Can you get me a Grazia and a Hel
lo!?’
She fumbled for her bag in the drawer by the bed.
‘This is my treat,’ I said, handing Flo a tenner.
We watched Flo walk out of the room.
‘I hope the police find the thug who came on to Flo and did that to you,’ I said.
‘I won’t hold my breath.’
‘How old was he?’
‘In his forties, maybe, and he was a fucking pleb!’
I had never heard Harriet swear before.
‘Thank you so much for helping Flo.’
‘I saw her by the bar and I could see she was in trouble. She couldn’t handle him.’
I shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Harriet hadn’t intervened.
‘I had no idea she was there.’
‘You were angry with me on Friday,’ Harriet said.
‘Yes I was, and I’m sorry.’
‘Did Julius say something?’
I did not want us to have this conversation. My feelings for Harriet were warm and grateful. My fury at her lying had dissipated and the last thing I wanted was to start accusing her of anything.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I said.
‘It does matter. Did he say something to you?’
‘You sure you’re up for this?’
‘Yes.’
‘I know about the screen test.’
Her expression was scared and ashamed at the same time.
‘Have you seen it?’
‘No, he said he’s junked it.’
‘He won’t have. He’ll keep it for sure.’
She was emphatic on that point.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘It gives him power, doesn’t it?’ she said.
I knew she had sent Flo to get the magazines so we could have this talk and I inched towards the question I had to ask her.
‘Did he show it to you that night, the night I found you crying?’
‘It was horrible. He said I would never make it on TV and he was so cruel. I don’t care about that any more, but I can’t bear him to have it. Can you get hold of it and delete it?’
‘Why does the screen test worry you so much?’
She shook her head. ‘Please don’t ask. It’s too awful.’
I had to be explicit. ‘But he didn’t sexually assault you?’
‘It was as if he had. It was totally humiliating and shaming.’
As she said this she looked guilty. She had lied and had caused me a world of trouble.
‘I know I shouldn’t have lied but he was vile about it, truly vile.’
I didn’t feel any anger at that moment but I did wish that I had questioned her more rigorously that night and got to the truth that it was his rejection of the screen test that had caused her meltdown.
‘He can be very cruel,’ I said.
‘Please can you get hold of it?’
‘I don’t think—’
‘It was on a purple memory stick. I remember that. He’ll use it to shame me and Ziggy.’
‘Ziggy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ziggy’s in the screen test too?’
‘Yes. She says she’s not bothered about it but I know she is. I know she’s terribly stressed out. We both are. He could show it to anyone.’
We heard Florence opening the door.
‘Please get the test, please,’ Harriet said.
Chalk Farm flat, Sunday night
I had forgotten how resilient a fourteen-year-old can be. By the evening Flo was already pulling away from our lovely mother and daughter closeness and had retreated to her room to Snapchat with friends.
I was still deeply shaken as I sat on the sofa with Mr Crooks on my lap. So much had happened because I had believed Harriet’s lie. If she hadn’t lied I would never have revealed my shaming secret to Saul Relph or fallen out so badly with Julius. I recalled his words to me: She didn’t get what she wanted so she’s making up stories, evil little stories.
Ziggy was in the screen test too. What about Ziggy? She was no spoiled rich kid. She was an orphan, a vulnerable intern and the youngest member of my team. It was especially my duty to protect her. Julius did not want me to see that screen test. There had to be a reason for that. As I went to bed I made a resolve: I was going to get hold of that memory stick.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
StoryWorld TV station, London Bridge
Monday morning dawned and I had waited for Rosie to arrive at our flat to walk to school with Flo so I was late into the station. I was still feeling reluctant to let Flo out of my sight. She, however, had bounced back and was irritated with me for fussing. On the way to Chalk Farm Tube I called Simon and asked him to watch the top of the show from the gallery. I had a plan. I was going to plant myself near Martine’s desk and take note of her morning routine.
I hovered, flicking through the morning papers which are spread on a table outside the meeting room close to Martine’s desk. She arrived ten minutes later looking grim.
‘Good weekend?’ I called over.
‘Awful. Milo was sick on Saturday. And got the trots on Sunday.’
Milo was her beloved Jack Russell. I walked over as she hung up her coat and saw her take a bunch of keys out of her bag.
‘Is he OK now?’
‘A bit better. I’ve asked the vet’s nurse to look in on him at lunchtime. That dog costs me a fortune.’
Her voice was fond. Julius had not arrived yet which was unusual. She found the key and unlocked the door to his office. I was making sympathetic noises as I watched her slip his key into her top desk drawer. Knowing Martine she would lock that drawer when she went out at lunchtime, but I would try later nonetheless. In order to search his office I’d have to choose a time when he was out and she was away from her desk. It wasn’t going to be easy.
At the morning meeting Julius said he had been watching Fizzy’s interview with the head of the Football Association from his dentist’s reception and it was a cracker. The FA was embroiled in a major row about racism in the sport. A manager had been caught after an interview making racist comments to a pundit who joined in the banter, adding his own noxious views. The microphone had been on and though their comments hadn’t gone to air a member of staff had leaked the recording to the press. Now both manager and pundit were suspended and the FA was investigating the incident. My team usually book the interview of the day but Bob’s team had set this one up on Sunday. It was the talking point of the day and radio shows were running their phone-ins on kicking racism out of football.
‘We were lucky to get him this morning, all the news outlets wanted him,’ Bob said.
‘It’s good having a hard news interview from time to time, don’t you think, Liz?’ Julius said.
I had got down to the gallery in time to watch it and Fizzy had done a hard-hitting interview. Inwardly, I was seething at Bob’s coup.
‘I agree. Fizzy did a terrific job,’ I said.
‘I couldn’t have done it without the extra briefing,’ she said.
It emerged that she and Bob had come into the station on Sunday evening and he had coached her on the subject. I tried to catch her eye but she was resolutely ignoring me, addressing all her remarks to Bob or Julius.
Simon, Molly and Ziggy were seated at their desks and I told them that Harriet had taken two days’ leave and would be back on Wednesday. This meant extra work for Molly and Simon and I saw them exchange looks. I rarely allowed them to take leave at such short notice.
‘Last minute trip, was it?’ Molly asked.
There are times when I don’t feel like justifying every last thing to my team and this was one of those moments. I nearly snapped at Molly but said yes and closed my door. I was consumed with how I could get into Julius’s office and search for that memory stick. The screen test was the key to everything that had been happening. It had caused Harriet to accuse him of assault; it had sent Fizzy into a meltdown and Ziggy was also implicated. I had to get hold of it.
All mo
rning I kept getting up and looking out of my window towards his office. Martine didn’t budge from her position on guard outside his room. Around one I saw Julius leave for lunch. Ten minutes later Martine left her post. I had often seen her in the Hub and she would buy a sandwich and take it back to her desk. I came out of my room and Molly and Simon had gone for lunch but Ziggy was sitting there. She looked up at me, her face pinched.
‘Is Harry OK?’
‘She’s fine,’ I said and hurried on.
I had cut her short but I did not have long. I tried his door but it was locked. I stood by her desk and pulled at the desk drawer where she kept the keys. As I’d expected it was locked. I walked back and Ziggy was hunched over a Coke and a bag of crisps which appeared to be her lunch. I sat down opposite her.
‘Harriet is fine. Her parents wanted to take her to the country for a couple of days,’ I said.
Ziggy gave me such an anxious look then. I wondered if I should ask her about the screen test but there was something in that look of hers that made me keep quiet.
The afternoon dragged on. I walked down to Fizzy’s dressing room but she had left for the day. She was avoiding me and there was nothing I could do about it. Simon caught me on my way back and gave me the brief he had prepared for the return of John of Sheffield tomorrow. Fizzy will be interviewing him about how he’s getting on being a sole parent to a teenage girl and two boys. He has started dating again, after years of celibacy. His appearance on our show in September had been the catalyst for this. The angle tomorrow will be how hard it is for lone parents to have a sex life. I could relate to that. It’s Betty’s territory and usually I would have told her that it was happening, but I was worn out with taking everyone’s feelings into account and I didn’t ring her. If she sees the interview and complains I’ll deal with it then. I hope he’ll be as good as he was the first time. I need a good ‘real life’ interview after Bob’s success this morning.
Gerry called me at four and he was enthusing about his Sunday roast with Amber.
‘We drove out to this pub on the river, near Henley. Divinely picturesque, Liz. She knows all the best places to go.’