Off the Record

by Rose, Alison

  Chapter Thirty

  Going back the next morning was one of the hardest things Kate had ever done. She was grateful for Paul’s reassuring presence beside her. She doubted if she could have faced it alone. As they turned into the street she saw what was left of the house. Her stomach turned over. All gone. Nothing left but a blackened pile of bricks and charred wood.

  The drive was blocked by a police car and a van from the fire brigade. A group of people stood on the pavement. Kate recognized some as neighbours and one or two reporters from the local paper. Paul swore under his breath and told Derek to drive past and park further along the road. As the car drew to a halt Kate reached out a trembling hand for the door handle, only to be stopped by his warm grasp on her shoulder. ‘You don’t need to do this. Leave it to the cops.’

  ‘I’ve got to. I need to.’

  ‘OK, then I’m coming with you.’

  She gave him a brief, distracted smile and nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  They got out, and Kate nearly gagged on the stench. She covered her mouth with her hand, finding a brief respite in the fresh scent of the shower gel she’d used to wash away the smoke and soot from her body a short time ago. Dust and smoke still hung in the air, making her cough. Her scorched lungs and bruised ribs protested, and her eyes stung as she squeezed them tight against the tears that threatened to overflow.

  ‘This is crazy! You should still be in the hospital.’ Paul held her tight, his concern making his voice harsh.

  She took comfort in his arms, sure that she’d collapse in a heap without his strength to support her. The coughing subsided and she took a slow breath through her mouth, trying to avoid the sharp, foul smell. But as the thick air passed over her tongue she realised she could actually taste it. What had once been her family home, a place full of love and laughter, had become little more than an acrid, sour flavour in her mouth. She wanted to be sick, to spit it out, to rid herself of it. Despair hung over her like a cloak.

  The group swarmed forwards, but Kate ignored them. She didn’t want sympathy, and she sure as hell didn’t want to answer any more questions. A couple of policemen and a handful of JBB security men stood their ground, stopping people from getting any closer. The reporters tried to call out questions, but they went unanswered as Kate focused on the ruined house.

  It hurt to look at it. The roof had gone, collapsed into the shell of the house, taking both floors with it into the basement. The front wall, scarred and buckled by the heat, swayed wearily towards the street. The front door and all the windows were gone. She thought it looked like a skull, staring blankly out at a world it didn’t recognize. Her mother’s beautiful garden was a sodden mess of mud and trampled flowers.

  It was impossible to reconcile the destruction in front of her to the happy home it had been. He was right. That place was gone.

  A barrier of police tape blocked the path. It fluttered in the wind, broadcasting its DO NOT CROSS message in staccato whirrs and snaps on the breeze, reinforcing the fact that this hadn’t been an accident. She felt the chill of fear spread up her spine.

  ‘Thank God Mum was away,’ she said. ‘If she’d been in …’ She sucked in a sharp breath, remembered panic stabbing her like a physical pain. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. Since Daddy died she’s …’

  ‘Hush, sweetheart. She’s OK. You talked to her this morning, didn’t you? And my dad’s gone to bring her back.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, I know. But look what she’s coming back to! Everything she owned was in there. She’ll have nothing but the stuff she took with her. ‘

  ‘She’ll have you. Which she might not have, considering how crazy you acted. I swear I almost had a coronary when you went back for that damned box of stuff. Why the hell d’you do it?’

  She grinned, despite the tears making silent tracks down her cheeks. ‘I could hear you yelling over the noise of the fire.’ Her expression sobered as she touched his cheek. He leaned into her hand, putting his own over it, then turned his face and placed a gentle kiss on her palm. ‘I had to get the photo albums and our family Bible. I couldn’t let them burn. They’re all we have left of Daddy. It would break Mum’s heart to lose them.’

  ‘Right, so instead we could have lost you. It was a stupid thing to do.’

  ‘You said that loud and clear last night. I’d do it again, though,’ she declared.

  He sighed. ‘Yeah, I know. Just remember none of us want to lose you, OK?’

  Her breath caught in her throat. He looked different. His mask was gone. Now she saw the real Paul, his sombre strength, his loving concern.

  She realised she was glad she loved him, the serious, beautiful man who held her. She’d fought it since the moment she’d set eyes on him, trying to keep her heart safe. But even if it ended tomorrow, she had been blessed by knowing and loving him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he laid a gentle finger on her lips.

  ‘No, don’t say anything. Not right now. Whatever you say now, you’ll probably regret later on. Besides,’ he gestured with his head at the growing crowd. ‘We’ve got an audience. Let’s move.’

  He held up the tape, and they ducked under.

  ‘You can’t go in there,’ called one of the constables.

  ‘It’s her house,’ Paul replied.

  ‘You still need to stay behind the tape, sir, it’s dangerous. And we’ll need to ask some questions.’

  ‘They already did last night. Right now she needs to get away from prying eyes. We’ll be careful. I’m taking her round back.’ He took her hand and led her around the side of the house.

  Kate tried to muffle her cry of distress. The rear was as bad as the front. The area nearest the house was a mess of scorched turf and mud. The flower beds were decimated. Only the stone bench on the little raised terrace at the back of the garden seemed untouched. She picked her way slowly towards it. A flash of white caught her eye. A fragment of paper fluttered limply on what was left of a rose bush. Gently, she disentangled it. Underneath was a single bud left on the shrub, a hint of pale lemon peeking through the dark green foliage. Kate stroked it, the single symbol of life amidst the destruction. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, pressing her thumb and forefinger against them for a moment, her head bowed.

  ‘I can’t leave this here,’ she whispered, opening her eyes and reaching for the flower. She sank onto the bench, cradling the rose in one hand and the paper in the other. He sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

  ‘What does it say?’ He nodded towards the fragment.

  She shrugged, laying the rose gently down beside her before smoothing it out. It had been torn by the thorns and part of it had been burnt. Most of the writing was smudged, but Kate recognized her mother’s hand.

  ‘Looks like some sermon notes. Yes – there – Matthew 6:25-34. Hang on, I know this one … it’s one of her favourite passages …’ she shook her head. ‘I can’t think straight. What? … ah.’ Realisation dawned, and she began to laugh.

  ‘What is it? What does it say?’

  She laughed harder, crying at the same time now. ‘It says we have … have to trust God and n … not worry! Can you believe it? The only thing to survive the fire is a bit of paper saying God will take care of everything, and not to worry.’

  ‘Sounds like good advice.’ He wiped a stray tear from her cheek and smiled. ‘It’ll be OK, I promise.’ He leaned down to kiss her. With a sigh she lost herself in his embrace. In his arms she felt warm and loved and safe. She didn’t know how long they might have stayed like that if the police officer hadn’t approached them to say that her mother had arrived. Kate pulled away and took off running, reaching her mother as she got out of the car.

  ‘Mum!’

  Alexandra opened her arms and hugged her tight. ‘Oh, my darling girl! I’m so glad you’re all right!’

  They wept as they held each other. The men, joined now by Paul’s father, stood waiting, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and helpless f
rustration as the women were surrounded by a small knot of people. Neighbours. Paul recognized one or two who had helped him to pull Kate away from the blaze the night before. Jake and the guys were keeping anyone with a camera or a notebook at bay.

  After a few moments the officials moved forward, edging their way through the group to speak to the women.

  ‘You OK, son?’ Johnson put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I guess.’

  They stood in grim-faced silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, Paul focused on Kate; Johnson on her mother.

  ‘Is Alex OK?’

  ‘I don’t know. She was so quiet on the way over. I guess she needed to see Kate for herself to make sure she was all right.’ He turned to look at what was left of the house. ‘Jeez! What a mess! Maybe we should get them away from here. I’m not sure she’ll hold it together when she gets a good look at this. You sure this was deliberate? These old places are like tinderboxes.’

  ‘Oh yeah, it was deliberate. Last night we were gagging on the smell of gasoline. Someone meant to do this, and they didn’t care if anyone was in the house. Maybe they even knew. Someone called when I was there earlier, and hung up.’ He took a deep breath, fists clenched at his sides, his eyes cold. ‘If I ever find the son-of-a-bitch, so help me, I’ll kill him.’

  His father nodded as one of the neighbours approached. The woman looked exhausted.

  ‘Ma’am.’ Paul shook her hand. ‘I saw you last night, helping out.’

  The woman blushed. ‘I just brought out a coat and slippers for Kate. I couldn’t leave her out here in her jammies.’

  ‘We appreciated it. Thanks.’

  ‘It was the least I could do.’ She looked around. ‘Did you bring the other woman with you?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The American woman, who was here yesterday. I met her outside the vicarage. I thought perhaps she wanted to speak to the vicar.’ She shrugged. ‘Some people do – you know – when they’re troubled. They just turn up at a vicarage and ask for help. Alex says it’s an occupational hazard.’

  ‘And this woman wanted to see her yesterday?’ Johnson asked.

  ‘She said not. I went out and spoke to her. Said she was just looking, and left.’

  ‘Hang on, back up a minute,’ Paul interrupted. ‘What makes you think she was with us?’

  ‘Well … I don’t know for sure, my dear, but she talked like you do. And you’re from that band … J something, isn’t it?’

  ‘JB.’

  ‘That’s it! That’s what she had on her jacket. Nice one it was, a zip-up in dark blue, with ‘JBBand’ embroidered right here,’ she pointed to just above her heart, ‘in red.’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  ‘It’s about time you checked in, Armstrong. I’m this close to firing you.’

  Kate grimaced into the phone. ‘Sorry, Boss, but I’ve had some problems.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard. From every other bloody paper on Fleet Street! You’d better tell me you’ve got an exclusive for me, Kate. I don’t appreciate finding out one of my reporters failed to tell me that her mother is Johnson Brand’s mistress.’

  ‘She is not! My mother is a priest! She …’

  ‘She’s a woman, and I’m looking at pictures of the two of them practically devouring each other in broad daylight. On the front page of our main rival, I might add. You’ve let me down. I want you back in the office immediately. ‘

  ‘No! You can’t do that!’

  ‘Yes, I can. I’m sending someone I can rely on to take over and get me the real story, and our next edition will headline you and Junior’s little escapade outside the office. “Like Mother, Like Daughter. Rock Star Father and Son keep it in the Family.” Unless of course you’ve got a better story? Like what’s been going on under your bloody nose?’

  ‘You’re turning The Globe into a tabloid. How can you live with yourself?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Kate. You’ve made me look a bloody fool. You’re lucky you still have a job right now, kid. Just get back here.’

  ‘No one else will get the access I can.’

  ‘So what? You’ve been right there in the middle of it all, and every other hack in the country reports on what’s going on. What do I get from you? Fluff pieces about life on tour, and how hard it is for the poor lighting technician to maintain a family life when he’s always stuck up a rig pointing a spotlight at Johnson Bloody Brand!’

  ‘Those hacks have no idea what’s going on! It’s pure speculation,’ she snapped.

  ‘So, it’s just a rumour that someone stole your mum’s phone and sent an obscene text message to a bishop? And it’s a figment of everyone’s imagination that her house was torched, and that Brand Junior climbed a roof to rescue you … you! Kate Armstrong, described by The Echo as “An ambitious young reporter with The Globe”! So bloody ambitious that she keeps her editor in the dark that she’s slap bang in the middle of the story of the century!’

  Kate was silent, head bowed as she waited for the axe to fall.

  ‘I want 1500 words by five o’clock, or you’re fired. Your choice, Kate. I want my exclusive. Don’t let me down.’

  She switched off her phone, knowing that whether she filed a story or not, he was going to run with the threatened picture. It was probably the only way he could keep his own job.

  What a mess! As if they hadn’t had enough to deal with, now both Kate and her mother were facing the loss of their jobs. She shook her head. Right now, she doubted if either of them would shed many tears over that – neither the bishop, nor her own editor had offered much in the way of support and understanding. But it complicated things. She buried her head in her hands. Complicated things? As if things weren’t complicated enough already!

  Since the fire, she was sure that Paul believed he loved her. The trouble was, Kate wasn’t so sure. What if was confusing love with guilt and responsibility? Tempted as she was to accept him on those terms, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to live with the thought that one day he would realise that all he felt for her was duty. Or even worse, pity.

  She thought it was ironic that she usually dealt with her problems by burying herself in work. But this time, work was one of her problems. Oh, and her own private life being exposed to all and sundry.

  Kate sighed and stood up. She’d better find everyone and warn them.

  Her news barely made an impact, thanks to a call from the police.

  They had traced a petrol container they’d found at the scene of the fire to a local garage. A member of staff remembered selling it to someone and the CCTV system had recorded a person buying fuel to fill the container. Alexandra and Kate were needed to go to view the tape to see if they could identify the suspect.

  Johnson had to leave for his next gig in Bristol, and wasn’t happy about them going until the women agreed to let Jake and one of his men accompany them.

  ‘You do realise,’ Kate said, as the men huddled together, making plans and giving instructions, ‘that because of this I won’t be able to write anything for the paper.’

  ‘Don’t sweat it, Katie,’ Johnson assured her. ‘I’ll talk to your boss. If he wants any kind of exclusive, he’ll wait a day or two.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ she disagreed. ‘With the rest of Fleet Street already on the story, he’ll need to have something immediately. And what he has that no one else has is a picture of Paul and I …’ She blushed and Paul swore.

  ‘Son-of-a-bitch! I forgot about that.’ He shrugged in answer to his father’s questioning gaze. ‘OK. If that’s all they’ve got, let ’em use it.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘It’s no big deal, Kate. We’re both single, we weren’t doing anything illegal. If that’s the best he can do, then let him. I’ll get our guys to prepare a release which will spike it.’

  She glared at him for a moment. Why didn’t he take this seriously? She wanted to shout and scream and let all of her tension and frustration out in a great big knock-down f
ight. But her mother’s gentle hand on her arm brought her up short.

  ‘Fine!’ she snapped before walking out of the room.

  ‘Hey, Kate, wait up!’

  Paul jogged after her and caught her before she could reach the sanctuary of her room.

  ‘What?’ she demanded, shaking off his hand on her arm.

  He took a step back, his hands up in surrender. ‘It’s no big deal, honey. Don’t you see?’

  ‘What I see is my private life being splashed all over the front page. I’m a reporter, for God’s sake. I write the news. I don’t appear in it!’

  ‘Well, if your boss follows through, you won’t be a reporter anymore. Is that what this is all about?’

  ‘No, it’s not! I’m glad I won’t be working for that slime-bag any more. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy being blackmailed and exploited.’

  ‘And it’s not much of a choice is it? You and me, or our parents. It sucks.’

  ‘Don’t start getting all sympathetic on me, Brand. I’m in the mood for a fight, not a crying jag.’

  He laughed and pulled her to him. ‘That’s my Kate! But I know a better way to release tension.’

  His kiss was hot and left her breathless. She gave as good as she got, touching and sucking and nipping. He had been kind and attentive since the fire two days ago, but they hadn’t been alone. Despite her doubts, she needed him, his touch, his kisses. Oh how she needed him! She wondered whether she could trust their feelings this time, and whether she could survive if her fears were realised.

  That thought frightened her, and had her pushing him away. She couldn’t afford to feel like this. Not right now.

  ‘Paul, I …’

  He put a gentle finger to her lips. ‘Shh. It’s OK.’ He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and pulled her into his warm embrace. ‘It’s OK, Kate.’

  She surrendered, and blew out a long breath, relaxing into his arms. Just for a moment. ‘You were right.’

  ‘About what?’