His mind fogged with feelings of anonymity; under the coat and hat, no-one recognised him. No longer was he the world famous and best-selling act but he was no-one special; someone who could run through the manic three months in his head.
Their promise to be together as a band expired after the show. What would they do after the baby was born? He couldn't imagine Paige being a stay-at-home mother, but nor could he see his girlfriend neglecting her child to jet around the world.
Pregnancy had not dulled her sense of rebellion or her flair for the unexpected. Why should motherhood?
He knew his father would expect Paige to be a stay at home housewife, keeping the house in meticulous condition and raising a well-spoken, perfect child. This fanciful notion was no more likely than her supporting his choice of political party.
So he had another fight looming; he could see the gruff voice of his father in his head: “get a grip of that woman.” He would point towards the sacrifices his own mother made and that her career was curtailed as she adopted a dutiful housewife role. He could see the further looks of disapproval on the face of his father. Feminism was something that had passed Paul Rees-Montague by.
And then there was Claire. She didn't handle the break-up too well last time, and while there were extenuating circumstances with her split with Andre, she still admitted that she couldn't handle the pressures on her without their manic schedule. Would they be faced with an overdose that killed her next time?
Lastly, there was Lucinda. Lucinda floated around their lives, wisely investing their profits and counselling them when they needed it. Without a band, there was no band profits and without that it was just managing their current array of investments; how would she cope with the reduced responsibility?
Of course, there was Jack Rees-Montague: mediocre keyboardist and marginally better song writer. What would he do? Paige had decapitated any chance he had of becoming a politician any time soon, and spending all day with Paige and a screaming baby sounded like a recipe for disaster.
He needed a focus; they all did.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he tossed the empty coffee cup into the bin and answered it without looking at the screen. He heard Andre's panicked voice. “Paige has run off to London,” he panted and he began to tell the full story from the beginning.
Chapter XCI
Paige
The plane landed with a jolt and a beep on Paige's phone; she had received six missed phone calls from her partner while she had no reception, and she gently slid the ringer to off.
An unexpected sight awaited her at the terminal; Andre, in a smoking jacket, passed her a bottle of water. “I thought you'd be thirsty.”
“What are you doing here?” Her tone was accusatory rather than welcoming.
He sighed. “I thought you might like to know that I went around to Ricky's flat. But there’s not an answer to his phone or Hazel's. They aren't there.”
“He's just ignoring you.”
“I rang the police too. And there's no answer when they went round or they never visited. I never saw ‘em but they said there’s nothing untoward but they’ll want to talk to you about what you heard.”
“No time,” Paige replied and gulped at the bottled water. “No time. Get me to Hazel's house.”
“You're not listening to me.”
“Correct. But more importantly, you're not listening to me. Now where's the taxi rank?”
“My car is outside.”
“Even better.” She walked past him towards the car park, and the casually-dressed agent ran to keep up with the pregnant woman.
“She's not there.”
“She is there, Andre. I've not flown thousands of miles to turn around at the airport. My sister needs me and I'm not abandoning her.”
“Your country needs you in Stockholm,” he muttered as the lights on his bright yellow Lamborghini flashed into life with a flick of his key ring.
Paige sneered. “Seriously. This is your new car? Someone is …”
“Don't say it!” He interrupted as Paige huffed her bulk into the passenger seat. “I've heard it. I'm over-compensating or mid-life crisis. It's just jealousy. I work really hard to get the money I have got and so what I want to spend a bit on a nice set of wheels,” he snapped, reversing the car and accelerating towards the main road. “It's a nice car.”
“Cost a lot to run?”
He nodded. “Yeah, like you wouldn't believe. Crazy. But it makes me smile. Feel this.” His foot depressed the accelerator pedal, forcing the car forward and accelerating towards 60mph in a couple of seconds.
Paige grabbed her belly and shouted at him, dry-heaving and groaning. She gasped, in pain and discomfort and she smashed a fist into his thigh. “Don't do that again. Baby doesn't like you driving like a teenager.”
He apologised by mumbling, and they travelled in silence across London to the plush Kensington apartment Hazel shared with Ricky.
“It's empty,” he whispered as they looked up at their flat in darkness.
“I'm going around the back,” she muttered and opened the car door. She walked towards a locked gate which splintered with a loud crash as Paige's foot smashed through the rotten wood. “Easy,” she mumbled as Andre stared up and down the street, checking for witnesses.
Paige wasn’t worried about the thought a police officer may have witnessed her wanton vandalism. She wanted to get to her sister.
Chapter XCII
Hazel
The apartment was pitch black.
Ricky lay asleep on their bed, while Hazel was curled up on the sofa, crying. Her sobs were gentle, her cheeks sodden. Her heart sank every time she heard her husband stir; fear rotating the butterflies in her stomach.
Her hands trembled underneath the blanket; her mind churned as she replayed every spiteful word he had shouted at her, and every thing she had done. He had blamed her, and he had blamed Paige for every ill that had befallen him.
His voice was loaded with anger and hatred. His eyes were filled with loathing. He no longer loved her. He no longer saw her as his wife, but a bad omen that he needed to rid from his life.
She sobbed; married at nineteen, heading towards divorce by twenty. Like so many of the celebrity marriages, it would be covered in the newspapers and her privacy, what little she had, would be bartered away by her ex-partner for a few column inches of publicity.
She had overseen a couple of clients doing similar things to their ex-partners. The circular bout of karma was not making her feel any better. As Paige might have said, “what goes around, comes around.”
But Paige would never have meant for her to be like this. She knew if her sister could see her now she would chastise her for not being stronger and standing up to her husband and then, no doubt, batter Ricky for mistreating her. Paige had always been there to support and protect her younger sister.
Without making a sound, she padded into the kitchen and reached for an empty glass and filled it with water, downing the liquid to compensate for the tears which had made her feel dehydrated.
The wet glass slipped from her fingers as she placed it in the sink, and crashed into the plates abandoned. She heard Ricky stir. The light came on and she stood, motionless, as he stared at her. “It's you,” he grunted. “Get in t’at bed.”
She didn't move but shook her head.
“I said get in t’at bed. Yo’ better do as yo’ll told.”
She gulped, thinking of Paige. “Don't want to.”
“Fuckin’ do as yo’ll told,” he snapped, rubbing the crusty sleep from his eyes. He moved towards her, but she stepped away, backing into the living room and locking the door behind her.
He punched the door open, sending the wooden door splintering on its hinges. Hazel backed into the lounge. “Get away from me.”
“I'm your husband! You'll come into t'at fuckin' bedroom and do yo’ wifely duties. Ya fuckin' slut!”
Hazel backed into the end of the room as Ricky continued to advanc
e; she touched the French doors with the backs of her legs, and she turned to frantically pull them open. She stepped onto the balcony. “Leave me alone Ricky!” She shouted.
Ricky smiled maliciously as the snake-like figure stepped through the French doors and grabbed his wife by her hair. Her screams filled the night-time air and he wrenched her hair downwards. Ricky smacked her head onto the metal frame, sneering. “Yo’ better get in t’at bedroom,” he yelled. Hazel looked into the garden below as she was pulled away to see a figure staring open-mouthed at them, arms crossed.
Her sister shook her head.
She must be seeing things, she thought. Her sister was in Stockholm.
Instead, Ricky dragged her away to be raped and there was no-one to stop him. Except her own strength to survive. The mirage of Paige had given her new strength and for the first time, she fought back against her husband’s abuse, trying to push him away.
Ricky, however, was much stronger than his wife.
Chapter XCIII
Paige
“I saw that,” Andre cried. “I'm calling the Police.”
Paige ignored him and ran into the garden of her sister's neighbour, dragging a patio table underneath the balcony.
“Hello Police please. We've just witnessed a violent domestic assault and … Paige …”
Paige ignored him again; her body was bathed in bright lights as the neighbours opened their curtains to see a patio chair balanced on top of their plastic table.
“… you better not be doing what I think you are doing.”
“I probably am,” she panted, nodding towards the stunned couple watching from their window. The husband fumbled for a key to their French doors, as Paige climbed onto the patio table, then the wobbly chair and put her hands on top of the balcony railing.
She felt her hand slip, but the sounds of Hazel shrieking and fighting her husband, spurred her on. The grip on the top of the railings enabled her to drag her body up enough to put her foot on the balcony ledge.
Andre gasped as she slipped, but Paige managed to regain her balance. He had a one-sided conversation with the Police before running towards the patio, and barged the man, in his dressing gown and slippers aside. “I'm coming too.”
Paige was already on the balcony and advancing into the kitchen as the fingers of Andre reached the top of the balcony. She picked up an eighteen-inch bronze figurine of Ricky from the hallway; resplendent in just his underwear.
All the time, the yells and pants from the bedroom grew nearer as she gently opened the door to see Ricky wrestling with the nightclothes of her sister.
The first strike came as a surprise, landing squarely on the back of Ricky's head with a sickening crunch.
He yelled; dwarfing Hazel's cries as he fell forward and turned to face his attacker. The second strike, loaded with spite and hatred, smashed across his nose, and splattering his white shirt, and his wife, with blood.
Hazel screamed.
Paige was unmoved and stared at the blood-stained Ricky in the eye. “She’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if she can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if she admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can.” She paused, and holding the legs of the figurine, smashed the metal body of the bronze piece against the immobile man's kneecap. His deafening cries did nothing to stop the steely resolve in her eyes. “And she isn’t going to quote poetry, she’s not thinking about you every moment, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you could break. Don’t hurt her.”
Paige's weapon launched another attack at him, blocked by his hands and smashed his wrists.
“I said don't hurt her,” Paige yelled bringing the instrument against his crotch and then smashing it into his face.
Ricky didn't move. He stopped yelling. Paige continued. “Don’t change her, and don’t expect for more than she can give. Don’t analyse. Smile when she makes you happy, yell when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect girls don’t exist, but there’s always one girl that is perfect for you.“
“Paige,” Andre shouted, bursting into the bedroom. “Stop it!”
She ignored him. “And now I'm going to kill you.”
Chapter XCIV
Paige
Andre wrestled the bust from Paige; she fought his attempt to snatch the weapon from Paige’s fingers but Andre managed to grip the bronze statue and yank it from the fiery woman.
“Give it back,” Paige yelled. “No-one hits my sister.”
“Take Hazel to safety,” he barked. “I think you’ve done enough damage.”
“I’m gonna kill ‘im,” Paige shouted. “Give it.”
“You already have. Out!” He demanded.
He stopped to pick up his phone and take a picture of the blood-stained bed containing the lifeless body of Ricky Nicholls and then closed the bedroom door.
The room illuminated to the feint sight of the police car's flashing lights outside the apartment. Paige said nothing, holding her sister as the young lady quietly sobbed.
Paige could find no words to speak. Instead she felt the action around her; Andre opening the front door to the policemen, them radioing to send an ambulance and then her talent manager summarising for the police the events of the brief period what he had witnessed.
They never spoke to Paige or Hazel. Instead an ambulance siren filled the street as it sped towards Hazel's flat. “He's dead,” Paige muttered to Andre. “Why an ambulance? Can't they get him out of here and …”
“He's not dead Mrs Nicholls. Is it, Mrs Nicholls, isn't it?”
“Paige,” she snapped, waiting for the policeman to realise who she was in the half-light of the kitchen. “And he looked pretty dead.”
“You gave it a damn good shot but we'll need to take a statement and there's a SOCO team coming down and …”
Andre softly interrupted and they conversed in quiet whisperings in another room to Paige and Hazel. “Am I going to be arrested?” Hazel asked.
“No. I will be though.” Paige chortled, expecting her sister to laugh but she remained silent. “Again. I'll be renting my own cell soon.”
“Why are you here?”
“You rang me. I heard Ricky down the phone and thought I better come and put a stop to it.”
“But you're supposed to be in Sweden.”
“Yes, and I don't stop being your sister when I'm in Stockholm. And I don't stop loving you and protecting you even though I'm thousands of miles away. That’s my role.” Paige gulped as she pulled her sister closer. “A bond between sisters is stronger than anything else, including the atoms in diamonds. 'Cause I'll always be there, and I'll never stop looking out for you.”
“But … but …”
“But what about EuroSong? Yeah, well, that can't be helped. I'll say that they offended my naturist principles so I had to come back to Good Ole Blighty!” Paige laughed at her casual reply. “They'll let me off. Never goin' to win anyhow. Waste of fuckin' time but that's Claire's idea! She's an optimist.”
“You won't win if you're in England,” Hazel blurted. “Paige, you got to go. Got to get back!”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
Andre groaned. “I've spoken to the Inspector. He said if he can take a statement first thing in the morning, you can get back to Sweden on a private plane at lunchtime.”
“I’m not going back to Sweden,” Paige barked, her eyes widening at the exasperated expression of her manager. “My sister nearly got raped here tonight and I've had to batter that steaming arsehole into a bloody pool of revenge. What part of that makes you think I'm in a good frame of mind to run off back to Sweden to sing for Britain.”
“Paige …”
“You can look at me in that tone of voice all you like but …”
“OK,” Andre cried, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Do you two want to come and st
ay the night with me? It's …” He paused as he looked at his expensive Rolex watch and then looked back at the two sisters. “ … nearly 1am. I only live two miles away so grab a few things Hazel, stay the night and give a statement and … what?”
“Nuttin',” Paige airly replied. “Just feels weird you bossing me around again. But then I always let you do that when the rozzers were about.”
He sighed. “If I recall, you listen to me when the rozzers were around which you don't normally do, but you still ignore what I say. But Hazel is different, she listens all the time.”
Hazel nodded. “Yeah, I need to stay somewhere else tonight. I’ll take your spare room, please.” She gathered up a few belongings as Andre gave his address to the Policemen. “Problem,” Paige muttered as they walked to his yellow car; the street was ablaze with flashing blue lights.
“How do I reverse out of there? Easy!”
“How do three people sit in a two seater?”
“Ah. Well, Paige you could … how about I do two trips and …”
“I'll walk,” Paige interrupted. “I could do with the fresh air.” Andre objected but the loud, booming voice of the Inspector cut through his words. “Miss Simmons. In the circumstances, I'd rather have one of my officers drive you to your destination.” She opened her mouth to protest and he fastened her with a stare. “Of course, I only have your word that he was attacking your sister. If you refuse, I can make you up a bed at the nick.”
Paige nodded and yawned. “OK.” He clicked his fingers behind him, fastening his eyes on the young singer as he slowly walked towards her. “How can I refuse?”
“You can't.” He glanced sideways as a fresh-faced police officer stumbled on the barely-lit pavement. “PC Watkins will take you home, Miss Simmons. And I shall see you in the morning. Shall we say 8am.”
Bare Necessities 2 (The Bare Necessities) Page 36