by Kiki Archer
“See, that’s friendly. You wouldn’t get that on my street.”
Honey nodded back at him. “I’m not meant to engage. He two-timed my godmother Sofia. Seventy-three, living the life of a teen. Now she’s dating Peter the gardener. If he bites the dust she says she’ll switch it up and try old Sal from security.”
“Sofia sounds fun.”
“She is. You should meet her.”
Margaret looked at the woman locked into her shoulder, their walk perfectly in sync. “I’m just a journalist, doing my job.”
Honey gently untangled the arm, her eyes dropping away.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It came out wrong. I’m sorry. I would love to meet your godmother. I’m having a lovely time.”
“Doing your job.”
“Yes, but in my head I was thinking about why you’re being so nice to me when I’m only a journalist, doing my job.”
“I am nice! I told you before, I can meet a hundred new people on a daily basis, but we only ever interact for a purpose, and I know this interaction does have a purpose.” She took a deep breath, “To address the rumours caused by my song, but unless I’m mistaken,” she exhaled slowly, “this feels a bit more than that.”
“In what way?”
“You’re not the typical journalist. No recorder. No notes. No sit-down structured interview. You’re easy to talk to.”
“I’m new to this.”
“What, a no-holds-barred, access-all-areas Honey Diamond interview? So am I!”
“No I mean—”
“Look,” she pointed, “more life. Over there on the green. It’s Jackie Laurent and her children.”
“Louis Laurent’s wife? They live here?” Margaret shook her head. “I had no idea.”
“Let’s go say hello. She’s really lovely.”
“No, no, I can’t.”
“Starstruck?”
“You’re right. I’ve not been professional. I’ve not handled this interview well at all.” She spoke quickly, struggling to find the words. “We should get back and sit down. I could do with some more detail about the hours you work each week.”
“It’s non-stop, all day every day, we covered that at the start. Come on.” She linked Margaret’s arm once more, pulling her towards the open expanse of grass. “I need to fill her in on the latest.”
Margaret was almost jogging to keep up. “The latest?”
“Yes, there’s this godawful site on the web. SlebSecrets. Spreads horrible rumours. Have you heard of it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You must have? Apparently it’s the go-to place for gossip.”
Margaret shook her head. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”
“They speculate about me.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Possibly, but it’s the first time I’ve actually seen it online. I hate technology and I try and stay as far away as possible, apart from my music studio bits and bobs obviously.” She slowed their walk as they approached the green. “But they’ve really upset poor Jackie.” Lifting her hand she waved. “Jackie, hi!”
The heavily pregnant woman threw the three soft balls with as much effort as she could muster. “Go fetch!” She turned and shrugged. “Awful of me, but they love it.”
Margaret watched the three children, all under five, racing off to retrieve the balls.
“I just wish I could throw further,” she continued. “They’re back almost as soon as they’re gone.”
Honey smiled. “Jackie, this is—”
“I recognise you. From the paper. Margaret, isn’t it? You interviewed Louis a while back. Great piece. He was really pleased with it.”
Honey turned, raising her eyebrows at Margaret. “Oh I see. You’re shy.”
“No, I…” She turned her attention to Jackie. “How old are your boys?”
“Two, three and four,” she patted her bump, “and another on the way.”
“Boy?”
“Yep. Good old Louis and his testosterone.” She blew out a puff of air. “The bane of my life.”
Honey nodded. “I was telling Margaret about SlebSecrets. Mother’s on the case. Apparently they’ve found an old address where the site was registered. Her men, as she calls them, are close.”
Jackie held out her hands for the balls and threw once more. “I’m not angry because it’s untrue. God knows what Louis gets up to, and look at me, who could blame him, but I’m angry for them.” She paused and smiled at her three children scrabbling around for the balls. “Those little people. They’ll read it one day. And no relationship’s perfect. Most men have affairs. But why should his be spread all over the web for everyone to see? We’re not a perfect couple, but we try, and we’ll always try for our children. The last thing we need is the added pressure of every Tom, Dick and Harry knowing our business. Louis is closed off enough as it is. Stuff like this makes him worse, seeking solace in whichever pert bosom is closest.” The eyes dropped to her own breasts. “Oh and now I’m leaking. It always happens when I’m emotional. I’m like a milk machine offering free samples wherever I go. Ladies, I’m sorry, the last thing I need is these wet paps getting papped. I’ll speak to you soon Honey, and keep me informed.” She smiled at Margaret. “Nice to meet you. It’s not often Louis has something positive to say about journos.”
Margaret nodded a thank you and watched as the woman threw the balls in the opposite direction, heading, most likely, towards home. She turned to Honey. “You get papped out here?”
“Never. She’s embarrassed.”
“About her breasts?”
“Jackie Laurent embarrassed about her breasts?” Honey smiled at the suggestion. “No, about Louis. Yes, he’s apparently a bit of a toe-rag, but they’re a family, they make it work.”
“But if he’s cheating…”
“Then it’s their business. And I’ve no clue who these clean-cut, mightier-than-though, internet people think they are. Rubbishing strangers’ lives. Criticising and condemning. They’re damaged. They must be. Sadistic psychopaths who get a kick out of abusing people online. And she’s right. Those children didn’t ask to be born into that family. They’ve got as much right to privacy as anyone else.” Honey shrugged. “They need at least half a chance at a normal life.”
Margaret spoke quickly, wanting a new direction, the peaceful walk shattered by the encounter. “Did you want a chance at a normal life?”
Honey smiled. “Maybe for a day.”
The thought was fast. “Let me take you.”
“Where?”
“To the services. In my Mini.”
“I wish.”
“I’m being serious. I know what I’ll write, we’ve got an hour left of the interview.” She smiled. “And I’ve got a bigger hat in my car.”
“A bigger hat won’t disguise me and my security won’t be prepared.” Honey stopped. “Sorry, that sounded so spoilt.”
“Come on, we can try.” Margaret was now the one with her hand on the back, guiding Honey away from the green.
“It gets scary sometimes.”
“I won’t stand there with a sign saying – here’s Honey Diamond, come for free hugs.”
Honey laughed. “Oh, I was hoping you would.” She paused. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt, would it?”
“No.”
“And I’ve always wanted to be spontaneous and uninhibited.” She sucked her lip between her teeth. “You really think we can do this?”
“Be uninhibited on the M25? To an extent.”
“You’re funny!” She smiled. “We’re bonding. Actually, no, we bonded over that wine; this is the next phase of our growth. I’ve always been interested in psychology, particularly human dynamics and human behaviour,” she paused, “but don’t write that in the piece.”
Margaret puzzled. “Why not?”
“I rarely get time to read so I don’t want to overstate my talents. It’s more about me sitting back and observing others. There are lots of times I�
�m in the chair, the supposed centre of attention, when actually the interesting things are happening all around me. I like to observe. I see friendships formed, niggles starting,” she sighed, “but I’m never part of it.” She clapped her hands. “You could be my portal.”
Margaret coughed. “No one’s talked about my portal with such enthusiasm before.”
“Ha! We’ve got it.”
“Got what?”
“That shared wavelength. Let’s do this. Let’s go crazy.”
Looking into the excited eyes, Margaret lifted her shoulders. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes! I’ve always dreamt of random adventures, running wild, lost in the crowds and if I’m honest the idea of free hugs sounds quite appealing.”
“Right then. Let’s give it a whirl.”
Honey’s eyebrows rose wickedly. “So, lead on to your portal.”
****
The commotion occurring at The Alderley’s hub was farcical to say the least. Four ageing women, the most glamorous clearly the leader, now trussed up in white robes and slippers, hauling a brogue-wearing suit out of the spa. The young attendant had returned with Champagne before squealing and running for help. Diana had realised they needed to get the now-disorientated PA out of the heat, so with a swift neck of her refilled flute she’d summoned her troops. The first lift had been the hardest with Gerty and Dot’s sweaty breasts slapping into each other as they leaned over the body, but once outside the furnace, with towelling accessories in place, they’d got into a good rhythm: two steps forward, their cargo trying to force every other step back.
“Please release me,” said Liza, unable to avoid the gape in Gerty’s gown.
“No, this is perfect,” said Diana, encouraging the forward brigade. “The pool boy’s calling my people. I have a whole new holistic team. They’ll take care of you.”
“Really, I’m fine. This friction’s making me worse.” She pushed the towelling dressing gowns away from her face, inadvertently exposing more udders. “Please, I need to check on Honey. Check she’s singing from our hymn sheet.”
“We’ll vet the article later. This is much more important. I’ve got a hydrotherapist, a hypnotherapist, a physiotherapist, a cryotherapist, a psychosexual therapist, a—”
“I fainted!”
“And they’ll find out why.” She stopped at the ringing in her pocket. “The van must be here. Gerty, set her down over there.” She signalled towards the lounger.
“The van?” gasped Liza. “You’re taking me away in a van?”
“Sit on her,” said Diana firmly. “Make sure she can’t move.”
Sofia stopped walking. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes, and you’re in charge of the schedule. Take Liza’s PDA, check on Honey’s itinerary.”
“No one takes my PDA!” shrieked the thrashing suit.
“Hello!” giggled Diana into her phone, thrilled to finally make use of her people. “Oh, it’s you.” Putting her hand over the receiver she mouthed to the struggle on the lounger. “It’s my OTHER men.” She paused. “You have their names? Women? Never? And you gifted the letter?” She straightened as she listened carefully to the details, trying her best to ignore the wrestling behind her. “Everything. Find out everything. Where they work, what they do.” She paused. “We’ll destroy them with this. Present me with the particulars tomorrow. I’m busy at Velvet Villa tonight. We have a patient.” She looked back to the lounger. “Who may need the full works.”
****
Margaret smiled at the woman slumped in her passenger seat. She’d always imagined this car would bring stature. Not in a Range Rover Vogue type way, but in a quirky, I’m an independent woman and my life’s in order type way. And here she was now, with the woman to end all women gazing up at her with excited eyes, almost hidden under the oversized beanie. A woman who’d talked about her portal. Hers, Margaret Rutherton’s, and that certainly hadn’t happened in a very long time. It was as if the hunted had become the hunter. Honey must have hundreds of fans trying to contact her on a daily basis believing they were soul mates, or even worse, stalkers embodying the Stan character from the infamous Eminem song, yet it was Honey being forward, Honey daring to flirt, Honey discussing a connection she’d like to take further. Margaret nodded, and all of that was extremely fine with her. “Sorry about the stereo,” she said, holding the steering wheel with pride. “It can be a bit tinny.”
“I can’t hear it through this hat,” said her companion, “but I can feel the bumps. Has this car got suspension?”
“It fell off a couple of years back.” The white bonnet stripes and white roof were two of the few things still intact on the little red car. Margaret squeezed her knuckles even tighter. She didn’t care. This car had housed Honey. Honey Diamond in this little car. A car that had seen her rise in her work life, her social life now catching up, catching up to this pinnacle, this day that would never be beaten. “Top of the range back in the day.”
Honey laughed as she peeped out of the window at the traffic haring past them. “Even the motorway seems more alive. The cars I travel in must be well sound-proofed.”
“That’s the back window; it doesn’t close properly.”
Honey laughed again. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this free. Yes I can. My summer with She-Ra.”
Margaret gasped. “She-Ra the singer?”
“How many other She-Ras do you know?”
“He-man’s?” Her eyes darted away from the road to her passenger.
“She was my crush.”
“She-Ra?!” Margaret straightened in the driver’s seat trying to refocus on the traffic. “No!”
“We did some tour dates together. I was eighteen. She whisked me away to a late-night Leicester Square cinema showing. Back row. No one else there.”
“She-Ra?!”
“Yes, She-Ra. Keep your eyes on the road.”
“She likes women?”
“She did. Still might. Our paths haven’t crossed for a while.”
Margaret squeezed on the steering wheel. “I knew her husband looked gay.”
Honey nodded. “It’s called bearding. I learnt that from the dreadful SlebSecrets site. A beard is any opposite sex escort taken to an event in an effort to give a homosexual person the appearance of being on a date with a person of the opposite sex.”
Margaret’s eyes were back where they should be. “How far shall we drive?”
“Don’t you want to ask if I’ve ever bearded?”
“Should I?”
“You’re an uncharacteristically quiet journalist, Miss Rutherton.” Honey spoke with a smile. “It’s intriguing. Very intriguing. I thought you lot were meant to dig around for that extra titbit? That unanswered question.” She paused. “But no. I haven’t. I attend premieres and functions and charity dos and that sort of thing with male friends and acquaintances, but I don’t do it to look straight. I do it for company, and if I’m honest I don’t have many female friends. I’ve tried to ask my stylists and hair dresser along but they always refuse. Now whether that’s another one of Liza’s ‘don’t get too close to Honey’ rules, I’m not sure. Or whether they just feel uncomfortable, or whether they just don’t fancy it, I don’t know. But sometimes it’s easier when Liza suggests the arm of another well-known celebrity. They know how it works, all the protocol of the pictures and the smiling and the polite chat with reporters on the red carpet.” She smiled. “And then you both leave at the first given opportunity without having to explain yourself.”
“I’ve seen that happening before, as soon as the cameras are gone the celebrities leave.”
“It’s work. People outside of the industry don’t understand. Yes it’s a party, yes it’s an event, but you’re always on the job, wherever you are. You’re protecting your brand. Never off guard. Never letting the mask drop.”
Margaret looked down at the cosy bundle on her passenger seat. “I can’t see a mask.”
“I’m relaxed. I
feel carefree for the first time in ages. Sounds strange given the fact I’m hiding out in a micro mini.”
“This isn’t a micro mini. This is a…” Margaret smiled. “Look at me trying to impress Honey Diamond with my 2002 Mini Cooper.”
“You can just call me Honey. You don’t always need the Diamond bit on the end.” She peeped up at the window and pointed at the sign for the services. “Oh goody. Come on, indicate left. Can I call you Maggie?”
“The services? You’re sure? And no, I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Yes I’m sure, and fine, Miss Rutherton. Let’s see how far we get. If we get to the door we get one point, the shop at the entrance is two, the toilets are five and a sit down drink in the café is ten.”
“We’ll get the full house.”
Honey lifted herself properly into her seat as the car came to a stop. “Will we?”
“Yes, come on.” Jumping out first, Margaret suddenly wondered if she should go round and open Honey’s door. That’s when she heard it. The first shout.
“Is that Honey Diamond?”
Honey was one foot out of the car.
“Yes it is! It’s Honey Diamond!”
“Honey!”
“Honey!”
The shouts got louder. “Honey Diamond! It’s Honey Diamond!”
Margaret watched in frozen fear as the swarm of people picked up their pace. It was like a scene from The Walking Dead. They were everywhere. Coming from all directions. “Back in, back in,” she shouted to Honey, who was already seated, door shut, fastening her seatbelt.”
“Go!” Honey was trying to move the gearstick as Margaret threw herself back into the front.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, strapping herself in and starting the engine. “You don’t just push that stick and we start.”
“I thought it would help. Oh quick! They’re here!” Honey smiled and waved politely through the window, talking to Margaret through gritted teeth. “Any time today, this one’s going for the handle and my security have no clue we’re here.”
Margaret revved the car and reversed, missing the gears as she jerked away. “Where’s the Porsche when you need it?”