by Lucy Dawson
‘Hey, Clo, let’s go and put a film on for Granny Sue and you can all have a little rest,’ Matthew says. ‘Do you want a tea too?’ He looks at me.
I shake my head. ‘Thanks, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be upstairs for.’
I check Theo’s room thoroughly once I get up there, but I can’t see anything out of the ordinary, and he’s so completely worn out by his exertions, that after less than five minutes, I’m creeping back down. I stick my head around the sitting-room door to see Chloe happily snuggled up in the crook of my dad’s arm, both of them intently watching the Tinker Bell movie, and Mum with her eyes closed, leaning back in the armchair. I watch them all for a moment, snapshotting the scene in my mind, before withdrawing quietly and tiptoeing off to the kitchen to say I will have a cup of tea after all, only to find the door slightly ajar. I’m about to push it open when I realize Matthew and Caroline are in there having a row. They are conducting the whole thing in whispers, but it’s a row nonetheless – about me.
‘I don’t care! You shouldn’t have said anything to her at all!’ Matthew is hissing. ‘She was terrified, talking about brain tumours and asking to look at her medical notes. The GP actually said that she was “happy” to send her for a CT scan, like she was placating her or something.’
‘But darling, I went out of my way to explain to Sally that it won’t be anything like that, and if—’
‘My point is,’ Matthew interrupts, ‘it completely detracted from the very real mental support she needs right now. I know you’ve been helping her, and she trusts you, but there ought to be someone outside the family she can talk to.’
‘Oh Matthew, come on!’ Caroline says. ‘Don’t be so absurd. She was nineteen, for God’s sake! She doesn’t need help.’
I feel a rush of gratitude as Caroline takes my corner.
‘Yes, she does,’ insists Matthew doggedly.
‘You know that’s not true, Matthew.’
There’s a long pause, and I wait, hardly daring to breathe.
‘She also said you asked her if she’d already been diagnosed with something – and if that’s why she went to Cornwall,’ Matthew persists. ‘Was that really necessary?’
‘What’s far more pertinent is her continued insistence that she can’t remember a thing about Friday, from when she went to bed, until she woke up again in the taxi. Don’t you think?’ There is a long pause. ‘She and I talked about it again this morning.’
Matthew sighs. ‘She said the same thing in the car on the way home too – and that she felt she had no choice but to tell the doctor the truth.’ There is another long silence. ‘I’m still terrified that at any moment she could—’
But I don’t get to hear the end of that sentence, because a small but piercing voice suddenly says, ‘Mummy?’ right behind me, making me leap into the air. I spin around to see Chloe standing there, clutching one of her plastic beakers. ‘Is this old water or new?’ she asks, holding it aloft.
‘Old. I’ll get you some more.’ I take the cup from her and walk into the kitchen.
‘So the funds should be cleared in an hour or so—’ Caroline looks up easily. ‘Oh, hi Sal, I was just saying to Matthew, I’ve paid the sixty-five thousand into your account.’
Well, you weren’t saying that at all, were you? I don’t challenge either of them, though. Instead I look her in the eye and say sincerely, ‘Thank you.’
She looks surprised. ‘You don’t have to thank me. I borrowed it – it’s only right I pay it back.’
I wasn’t talking about the money, although I’m still incredulous that she can just walk away from such a vast sum. Kelly must have some sort of hold over her – something I’m unaware of. It’s got to be why Caroline isn’t calling the police. I know that she said she doesn’t want to involve them because it will mean me being dragged into everything, which is very kind of her – but who really does that if sixty-five grand is at stake, and it’s not as if I’ve done anything wrong, so why should I worry about the police investigating what’s happened? And given Caroline doesn’t think I’m ill, she can’t be worried about that being a factor either.
Although now, I don’t really feel as if I have the capacity to care about the cash any more. In comparison to what might actually be at the root of everything that’s happened, the missing sixty-five grand oddly doesn’t seem so important after all. I’d exchange millions for a guarantee that I’m not, in fact, ill.
‘So everything’s sorted,’ Caroline says firmly. ‘It’s as if none of it ever happened.’
*
Once the children have been fed, bathed and wrestled into bed, I come down from sorting Theo, prepared to face a barrage of questions from Mum about the visit to the doctor – only to find there is already a serious four-way conversation happening in the sitting room, about the ‘practical arrangements’ going forward.
‘I’m very worried about how Sally’s going to cope on her own, especially as she needs to be conserving all of her physical energy,’ Mum is saying as I appear in the doorway. I’m not sure she’s realized I’m actually back in the room. ‘The trouble is, we’ve been away from the shop for three days now, and it can’t stay closed indefinitely. I feel dreadful about this, but we need to go home no later than tomorrow, really. The best thing, I think, is if Sally and the children come home with us until the test results come back.’
‘Mum, I’m right here,’ I say. ‘I can hear you.’
‘Bob – do you think you could manage the shop on your own until the end of the week if I do opening and cashing up with you?’ She ignores me and looks at Dad anxiously. ‘That way, I can properly look after her.’
‘Hang on a minute!’ I interject again. ‘Chloe’s got school, Mum. We can’t just up-sticks and—’
‘She’s got pre-school.’ Mum turns to me. ‘A few days off won’t hurt her. It will do her good, another little break by the sea. You know she loves it up there, staying in Will’s old room. You can have your bedroom back too, and we’ll put Theo in the spare room, so everyone’s got their own space. I think it could be a real tonic for you, to come home and rest. You could see some of your old school friends!’
‘Mum, I haven’t seen most of them for about twenty years.’
‘I agree that Sally needs some extra support at the moment…’ Matthew begins carefully.
I look across at him tiredly. Yes, I know you do. I heard what you were about to say to Caroline earlier – you’re terrified I’m going to have another flip-out and disappear off again to do God knows what at any moment.
‘Good,’ Mum cuts across Matthew. ‘Well, then could you drive them all up after work tomorrow? I know it’s a big ask, but—’
‘I was going to say I think it might be better if she and the kids stay here,’ Matthew continues. ‘If they—’
‘What do you want to do, Sally?’ Caroline turns to me suddenly. ‘We’ll do whatever you feel most comfortable with.’
‘I think I’d like to be here for when the blood test results come back from the GP at the end of the week,’ I say gratefully. ‘And I’ve got the CT scan on Monday afternoon in any case.’ I imagine myself having to deliver bad news to Matthew down the phone, some two hundred miles away from him in Dorset.
‘You know you’re going to be just fine, though, don’t you?’ He looks me squarely in the eye, as if he’s reading my mind.
‘We could have you back in time for the appointment on Monday,’ Mum says. ‘Of course I don’t want you to miss that.’
‘I’d be happy to move in here for a few days, if that helps?’ Caroline offers.
‘It would be good to keep the kids’ routines going as normal, if we could,’ Matthew says quickly. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind, Mum?’
My mother frowns, and opens her mouth to disagree, but thank God, I’m saved from having to wade in between them by my mobile vibrating in my back pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s a text from Liv.
‘I’m just going to look at this.’ I step
over to the window and turn my back on all of them.
Couldn’t not make sure you’re all right. You must be devastated. Didn’t she know there was someone watching? Stupid cow.
I frown and text back straight away.
Did who know what? Don’t know what you mean?
OMG. You haven’t seen it?
Underneath is a link, which I click on.
It takes me straight through to the MailOnline, and a thumbnail picture of Kelly, immaculate in her red dress and heels, earnestly holding out the casserole dish to me, dressed in my revolting purple maternity nightie, also apparently leaning on a walking stick, hair all over the place and not wearing a scrap of make-up. I look beyond mental.
Caring Kelly offers some hands-on support, days after romantic engagement… reads the strapline beside it.
I gasp aloud, and blood starts to crash in my ears. I scroll down and there’s another, larger image. My buttons are half undone, exposing my bra… Oh dear God, you can also see the line of my granny knickers under the nightie, the huge ones that I bought so I wouldn’t rub my C-section scar straight after Theo was born, but that I’ve carried on wearing out of habit and because they’re actually really comfortable.
‘What’s wrong?’ Matthew says immediately, looking up. He gets to his feet as I hold out my phone, my hands shaking.
He looks at the picture and his mouth falls open. ‘Shit!’ he says, appalled, and then passes the phone straight to his mother before turning to me and putting steadying hands on my arms. ‘Look at me,’ he says. ‘It’s just a picture, not a good one, but just a picture. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Oh, Sally!’ I hear Caroline exclaim behind me. ‘This is outrageous!’
‘Everyone I know is going to see this.’ I swallow, as my husband looks back at me. ‘All of our friends, people I was at school with, everyone from work, my clients, the mums from Chloe’s school… Everyone, Matthew!’ My voice begins to waver as hot tears of humiliation flood my eyes. I feel as if I’m in the dream where you’re on the loo in a crowded place and everyone’s pointing and laughing at you – only this is actually happening. ‘I can’t believe this. Can I see it again, please?’
My mum is now holding the phone, and she looks across worriedly at my father.
‘Mum, please!’ I beg. ‘Can you just give it back to me?’
She gets stiffly to her feet and hands me the phone. I quickly start to scan the text underneath the image.
Former EastEnders star Kelly Harrington took a break from her more glamorous day job to give a little something back when she visited a local charity, based near the London home she shares with her new fiancé, TV executive Will Tanner. Down-to-earth Kelly proved she’s a hit in the kitchen as well as on screen, taking with her some home cooking for the residents to enjoy.
‘It’s very important to me that the mental health services in this country, who are facing cuts to their services like never before, are given the support they need to continue the vital work they are doing,’ said Harrington. ‘Mental health issues are nothing to be ashamed of, and suferers need our help and understanding.’
Mental health issues?
RESIDENTS?
In perplexity, I scan through the other four pictures of Kelly and me that run under the piece. In all of them I’m holding the walking stick – like I’m completely infirm – and appear confused; as, frankly, I was, given it was barely 7 a.m. I put one hand on my head in shock, and just hold it there, staring at the pictures that are now everywhere, and which I can do nothing about.
‘Give the phone here.’ Matthew takes it from me, reads the article, then drops the mobile dismissively on the sofa. ‘No one you know is going to think any of that is about you. It’s plainly a mismatch of text and images. The story is meaningless, and the photos aren’t great, but it’s not that bad.’
‘Not that bad?’ I look at him incredulously. ‘We’ve both pushed images for a living for years. A picture paints a thousand words, remember? The camera never lies… She was “visiting a mental health charity”?’ I whisper aloud, in shock. ‘Oh my God…’
My phone begins to ring.
‘It’s Will, love. Should I answer it?’ Mum asks, picking the phone up off the sofa and looking at me anxiously.
I don’t say anything. Mum hesitates, and then answers anyway. ‘Hi, sweetheart. Yes, it’s me. Yes, she has. Just now. They’ve only just gone on then?’
I knew Kelly was up to something when she just appeared this morning and performed that complete about-face. And all that shit about having labyrinthitis, it was just so she could pass me the walking stick and I’d get snapped with it. She must have phoned a photographer and tipped him off the second she got back from threatening me last night. Something like this requires premeditated thought and planning.
‘Why is she doing all of this to me?’ I turn to Matthew, wide-eyed with fear.
‘Why is who doing what?’
‘Kelly,’ I whisper. ‘I’m not being paranoid. I know I’m not. She did this on purpose. She’s done all of it deliberately. But why?’
‘I don’t think now is the best time to talk to her, love.’ Mum is looking at me anxiously. ‘She’s very shaken up. Yes, I can. I will. OK. Bye then.’ She looks up at me. ‘He says Kelly is absolutely devastated.’
I exclaim aloud, in disbelief, ‘She’s devastated?’
‘Everything’s been completely confused, apparently. She visited a charity this afternoon in Hackney. She’s agreed to be their patron and they’d set up a publicity event where lots of photos were taken. Her people then did a press release and sent it out, only Will says some journalist mixed up the pictures with some shots a paparazzo took of you and Kelly earlier this morning.’
‘Rubbish,’ I say immediately. Is that what she meant when she said I needed to learn not to believe everything I read in the papers? She was going to teach me the lesson? ‘She has deliberately made me look completely unstable.’
‘I really don’t think she would go there, Sal, not given what she knows you did on Friday night—’ Matthew begins.
‘I wasn’t going to fucking kill myself!’ I shout, before he can finish.
There is an ugly and uncomfortable silence as they all stare at me.
‘Will said Kelly is putting a retraction up on her website now and tweeting it,’ Mum ventures, after a moment more. ‘She’s going to do whatever she can to make sure people realize the mistake.’
‘A retraction?’ I swing around to look at Mum. ‘No! Tell her to stop! She mustn’t! Give me the phone – quick!’ I scrabble to her website, but it’s too late. There is already an uploaded selfie of Kelly, with photogenic tears sparkling on her cheeks, looking stricken.
Beyond heartbroken! she’s written beneath it. This morning I went to visit someone who’s been having a tough time. This private moment was captured by a photographer. The one that you’d told to be there, you mean? When you work in my industry, you accept you’re fair game, but my family and friends are not, and I cannot condone this gross intrusion into my personal life. To make matters worse, the pictures were incorrectly used to illustrate a story about my visiting a mental health charity today, which I fitted in during a break in filming for my new six-part series for ITV, Beyond Suspicion, which will air this autumn.
I simply don’t believe this. She’s actually plugging her new TV show while supposedly apologizing for publically humiliating me?
Not only has the charity concerned lost a much-needed opportunity to publicize their work, as the photos showing their new logo were NOT used, the person in the photograph – my future sister-in-law, Sally Hilman – is understandably mortified, not, I’m sure, because she believes anyone’s mental health issues are something that need to be hidden away, but because she was just going about her business trying to lead a normal life. Not cool, newspaper people, not cool… On their behalf, I’d like to say a massive SORRY, SALLY! And chin up, babe. Kelly xxxx
I actually shriek, and f
ling the phone away from me.
‘Sal, what’s wrong now?’ Mum asks, coming over to me. ‘Kelly’s only trying to make good what—’
‘She’s named me!’ I put my hands on the side of my head. ‘Don’t you understand how this all works? She’s actually printed my name, so now every time someone does a Google search on me, this is the picture that will come up! And you think Kelly doesn’t know that?’
‘Sal, calm down. Please!’ Matthew pleads. ‘You’re going to wake the kids.’
‘Calm down?’ I turn to face them all, looking at me apprehensively. ‘This woman is wrecking my life. She needs to be stopped! Why can’t any of you see what she’s doing to me?’
I look at Caroline, silently imploring her to back me up, but she lowers her gaze and says nothing at all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mum’s phone bleeps as she’s finishing tucking me into bed. ‘Sorry!’ she says immediately. ‘It’s just a text message. I’ll put it back on silent.’ She pulls it out of her pocket and inspects the screen. Her mouth falls open, and completely uncharacteristically, she whispers, ‘Bitch!’ before hurriedly shoving it away again.
‘Who was that?’
‘Penny Blakewell. You know…’
I stare at her blankly.
‘She always does the cricket teas, won’t let anyone else get involved, keeps the urn locked in her shed. She’s asking if the pictures are you, if you’re all right, and if there’s anything she can do to help.’ Mum flushes. ‘I never liked that woman.’
‘This is just the start. I told you people would see it.’
‘Yes, well, Penny Blakewell certainly doesn’t let much get by her…’ Mum hesitates. ‘Why were you holding a walking stick, though?’
‘Because Kelly asked me to!’
‘All right!’ Mum says. ‘It won’t do you any good to get het up again and have all of that adrenaline flooding your system. You don’t want to put your body under any unnecessary strain at the moment. I expect the doctor reminded you of that today, didn’t she? Matthew was telling us she gave you a very comprehensive range of tests. That’s good, isn’t it? Wonderful that she’s taking you so seriously.’ Mum tries to give me an encouraging smile, but I can see the strain in her eyes – and it makes me hate Kelly all the more, for putting her through this. ‘Shall I bring you a cup of tea in a minute?’