by Harry Verity
‘Will I get a chance to meet Michael after the show, maybe he can give me some advice? Help me boost my profile. Please?’
‘Of course,’ Violet said, ‘thanks so much for your time, Jessica.’ And with that she and Edward bid goodbye to the Butlers and headed back towards the railway station.
‘I feel sorry for her parents,’ said Edward.
‘Yes, the girl definitely has a problem.’
‘But Braithwaite can help.’
‘If we proceed.’
‘If? I thought the Butlers were a dead cert.’
‘There’s no conflict. I was having doubts anyway but when we asked her point blank about her parents she said they were wonderful. We might have been in with half a chance if she’d slagged them off.’
‘So we’re just going to leave her?’
‘Yep.’
‘But she’s got a problem. We’re the only people who can help. Surely we can run it? It’ll pull at heartstrings, it would make a good show.’
‘You’ve changed your tune.’
Edward went red. He’d seen the girl. She was so thin. The trade-off that Violet had talked so much of, was, he had to admit, a sensible approach here. Jessica wouldn’t admit she had a problem, she wanted to be famous. By allowing her on the show and ‘exposing’ her behaviour to her parents and the world, she would get the help she needed and perhaps Michael’s straight talking would make her see reality.
‘What about Braithwaite, he’ll be on board with it all, won’t he?’
Violet took a deep breath.
‘If you want to come back here and see what can be done for Jessica Butler, fine, good shout. But in your own time. We turn up to work in the morning, we make good television and then we go home. You need to accept we’re not social workers or you need to leave, Edward.’
Edward opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He remained silent for much of the journey back to the studio.
12
‘It’s a no,’ Violet said. Braithwaite flapped. They were back in the gallery.
‘But, but, that girl needs specialist attention, it’s the only way to get through to–’
‘Not happening,’ Violet said definitively, ‘take it up with Michael.’
‘This is preposterous, you can’t expect me to sit back and–’
‘Even if,’ said Violet, ‘we went ahead it’s far too early in the run for anything soppy. We’ve got some celebrity specials lined up in three weeks, if we’re going to run it then it will be sandwiched in between. That’s the only way we can guarantee viewers.’
Braithwaite stormed off and Violet set about finding a suitable replacement story, with Edward’s help.
The following day Violet was already at the desk and as Edward climbed up the gallery stairs, he could already hear Mags.
‘What the FUCK is this shit?’
She was clutching a newspaper and holding it up.
‘I don’t make a habit of reading what these people churn out but on the one day, the one fucking day I have the sodding Lion shoved in my face on the way out of the Tube and it’s full of this.’
Edward said nothing and read the paper over Violet’s shoulder as fast as he could.
EXCLUSIVE: O’SHEA CUTS TIES AS ‘PAEDO’ BROTHER IN COURT
Michael won’t fund court costs
Insiders: Michael is pushing for a guilty plea to avoid embarrassment
The story was self-explanatory.
‘It’s a miracle that’s on page seven, would have been front-page material if those fucking clowns across the road weren’t throwing their toys out of the pram.’
Liv had walked in. She was, of course, referring to parliament and the impending election.
‘Hang on…’ Violet’s mobile was ringing.
‘A miracle!’ Mags protested, as Violet stepped out to take the call. ‘I tell you what would be a miracle, if someone went round there and put the kiddy fiddler out of his misery.’
‘Right, well…’
Several moments later Violet stepped in with a worried look on her face.
‘We might have a problem.’
‘For fuck’s sake…’ Mags said.
‘It’s Minnie. She’s run away. Jo’s rung reception, ranting. She’s saying that we pushed her over the edge. She was screaming down the phone, apparently, said she’s going to go to the police and sue us.’
‘Sue us! The spoilt little shit. We’re about to pay for her to go to Florida,’ Mags snapped, ‘and this is how she repays us? Get on this!’
‘We will sort it,’ Violet said.
‘But I don’t understand,’ Edward protested, as the meeting disbanded, and he and Violet proceeded to their desks at the back of the studio. ‘What are we supposed to do? If her daughter has run away, what can we do about it? Surely it’s a matter for the police.’
He was, of course, subtly referring to her comments yesterday.
‘No, Edward. We don’t want to get the police involved if we can help it.’
‘What? You’re expecting us to find her on our own? She could have been abducted. Anything.’
So much for not being social workers.
‘Doubt it. She’s run off dozens of times before and always comes back. It’s not about the police, it’s about guest rehabilitation. Looking like we–’
‘Actually give a shit about people?’ Edward snapped, losing control.
Violet quelled him a sharp look and he regretted being so blunt.
‘I just don’t want her to go telling tales.’
‘Okay… okay…’ Edward breathed. ‘So we’re going to go down there and talk to her?’
‘Sorry, Edward, you’re going to have to do this one on your own. I’m needed here. I need to firm up the rest of the week’s shows and get next week’s sorted.’
‘You want me to go, on my own?’
‘Take Braithwaite with you if you really must but…’ Violet paused for a moment.
‘What?’
‘I don’t want you getting carried away.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If we go to the police it will make the situation ten times worse, attract attention.’
Edward went down the gallery steps and to Braithwaite’s office.
As it happened, he was not that helpful. He seemed agitated by the fact Edward was getting involved in his area of expertise.
‘This really isn’t necessary,’ he started. ‘I can work with the family to try to resolve their issues on my own.’
‘Do you know where Minnie is?’ Edward asked, politely.
‘No,’ Braithwaite said, fidgeting with his glasses, ‘but we have procedures. I don’t want you going round to the house and bulldozing everything I am trying to do. It’s not for some junior researcher to jeopardise the authority of the director of guest rehabilitation.’
Edward didn’t know what to say.
‘I’m sorry,’ Braithwaite said, seeing Edward’s sunken expression. ‘The family is fragile, volatile. I’m trying to help them put their lives back together…’
‘Then maybe I can help…’
Braithwaite changed tack. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘all right, but I’m coming with you. We can help find her together.’
‘Right, there’s a train that leaves in twenty minutes.’
‘I’ve got a car,’ Braithwaite explained, and they headed out of the studio, through the underpass and to the garages.
‘I presume you’re under instructions to keep the police out of this.’
‘Er, yes,’ Edward said, opening the passenger door to Braithwaite’s BMW.
‘It’s ridiculous. If we could put out an appeal. Minnie’s family is so…’ He stuttered slightly. ‘They’re hurting and that manifests itself in their shouting, bickering and arguing. Knowing the police were investigating would help put their minds at rest. I want to help them get through it, you know?’
‘Right.’
Thankfully, there was little traffic in London but Edward
got the impression that was because Braithwaite knew all the side roads and back passages that only an experienced commuter would. When they finally reached the council estate, Braithwaite insisted on parking the car a few streets away.
‘I don’t want to draw attention to the fact we’re here,’ he explained. ‘I don’t think Jo gets on too well with her neighbours. They already resent the fact she has been on television and they haven’t. If we’re seen to be giving her even more attention it could cause more conflict.’
They walked down the streets and knocked at Jo’s door. Hearing no response, they pushed open the door and headed inside. The house was more of a mess than it had been before. The living room was piled with clothes and unwashed bed sheets.
‘Jo!’ Braithwaite shouted. ‘Jo, it’s Dr Braithwaite from The Michael O’Shea Show.’
They went to climb the stairs. Jo was lying stooped over them, a bottle in hand, her eyes glazed over. When she tried to speak, her words were so slurred Edward couldn’t work out even remotely what she was trying to say.
‘Come on,’ Braithwaite said, grabbing hold of her arm, ‘let’s get her into the living room.’
Edward obliged but Jo resisted.
‘No,’ she screamed.
‘We’re just trying to help,’ Edward said. She didn’t seem impressed, but her grip seemed to soften nonetheless and Edward and Braithwaite were able to lift her onto the battered sofa in the living room.
Braithwaite went straight to the kitchen and poured her a glass of water, almost having to force Jo to drink it. She reached for the bottle of wine. Edward took it away from her and she halfheartedly tried to grab it back.
Braithwaite forced more water down her and they sat with her for fifteen minutes. Eventually, she seemed to calm down.
‘Jo,’ Braithwaite said, and she at least seemed able to actually understand what they were saying, ‘I do need you to think, right now, where could Minnie be? Could she be staying with her friends?’
‘B-better- better off without me,’ she said.
‘That’s not true!’ Edward protested.
‘Edward’s right, tell us where she might be so we can go and find her.’
‘Factory…’ she said, ‘the factory.’
‘What was that?’ Braithwaite said.
‘I saw it on the train when we first came here,’ said Edward. ‘There’s an abandoned industrial estate on the outskirts of town. She must be talking about one of the derelict buildings.’
‘Right.’
‘You stay here,’ Edward said. ‘I should only be about forty minutes. If I’m longer than an hour, call me.’
And with that, Edward headed out of the door. He had a vague idea where the factory was but he still felt slightly uneasy about heading out into the town.
Edward climbed over the shards of broken glass that littered the floor and onto the concrete. There were warehouses and smaller buildings that had once been shops but Edward knew that the building Jo had been talking about was more likely to be the giant three-storey complex that dwarfed the rest of the site. A little more care had been taken to lock this building down, it seemed, but that hadn’t stopped the intruders.
Though there might have been padlocks and giant wooden boards sealing off the ground floor, the windowpanes on the third storey had been left uncovered and somebody had climbed up, making sure to graffiti their tag on the walls as they went. Edward checked around the back of the building. It was as he thought. Once the initial break-in had been completed, somebody had knocked one of the ground floor boards through from the inside creating a small gap to squeeze into.
‘Hello!’ Edward called out. He wished he’d brought a torch with him. It was dark. He pulled out his phone, turned up the brightness and stopped to shine it around. He walked forward. He was in the centre of the building, where manufacturers had once sat; cramped, sweaty and overworked, the sound of machinery and foremen shouting their orders intolerable. Now all he could hear was his own foot splashing in the puddles in front of him and what seemed like faint voices in the far distance.
‘Hello,’ he said again but that only made him feel more afraid.
Then a thud and a huge splash.
He screamed out and scanned the room with his phone. There were two teenage girls standing a few metres in front of him. They had jumped down from the landing above.
‘Are you friends with Minnie?’ he asked instinctively.
‘What’s it to you?’ one of them sneered.
‘She’s gone missing. I’ve come to find her.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.’
So that was it, Edward thought, she was safe, just hiding. ‘What do you mean? Have you seen her? Her family is worried.’
‘Oh please,’ said the other girl. In the light from the cigarette she was smoking, Edward could see that she had a nose piercing and a pale complexion. ‘Her mum couldn’t give a fuck about her. She’s the reason she’s run away.’
‘So you know where she is?’
‘I don’t have to tell you anything. Who are you anyway?’
Edward hesitated to tell them. ‘I work on a television show,’ he said, vaguely.
Their interests seemed momentarily pricked.
‘And what’s someone like you doing around here? Making a documentary about us, are you? The council estate freaks?’
Edward tried to remain calm.
‘No. Please,’ he said, as the girls turned their backs on him and returned to whatever it was they were doing. ‘I’m trying to find your friend. It’s in her best interests.’
‘I’m telling you nothing,’ they spat and Edward knew the battle was lost. He started to make his way to the tiny hole where he’d entered. ‘You’re lucky we didn’t have your phone and knock your teeth out,’ they said. He shuddered at the thought.
Back at the house, he told Braithwaite what he knew. Jo was lying on the sofa, asleep, covered by a tatty old throw. Edward might not have found Minnie but it certainly sounded as if her friends knew where she was.
‘I don’t think she’s been forcibly taken…’
Braithwaite though was not convinced.
‘She’s fifteen. It doesn’t matter whether she’s voluntarily absconded or if her friends have knowledge of her whereabouts, she’s still missing. And those girls didn’t admit to anything anyway. You don’t know for sure that they were covering for her.’
In an ideal world, Edward agreed with Braithwaite. They needed to find the girl, she could be in danger, she was better off at home under careful supervision or indeed under the care of social services. That was perhaps where they should have referred the girl when she had first been booked onto the show. But the voices in his head told him he had what he’d come for, confirmation from Minnie’s friends that they knew where she was. It didn’t matter about their source, it was enough to kill the story and get the press off the case. He was needed back in the office.
‘Bernard,’ Edward said, he knew Braithwaite hated it when people referred to him only by his surname, ‘can you, can you help find her? Maybe you can stay here, talk to Jo until she tells you something.’
‘Look,’ he said, agitated, ‘tracing missing girls is a job for the police.’
Jo was still asleep. She had been so inebriated that Edward and Braithwaite had no doubt that she’d not heard a word of their conversation. Edward thought about what to do. If he told the police – as he knew he really should – then he would almost certainly lose his job, if not directly, then he knew that Mags, Liv, and Michael would ensure that his life was made very difficult. He was deliberately creating a scandal and bringing unwanted attention to the show at a time when they were already feeling the pressure.
‘Jo,’ Edward said, waking her.
She came round. ‘Have you found her?’
‘I spoke to her friends, they–’
‘What did they say?’
‘They said they knew where she was…’ he lied.
‘Then wher
e is she?’
‘She doesn’t want to come home, yet. They wouldn’t tell me where she was. But you know she’s alive, she hasn’t been kidnapped.’
‘She’s my daughter. What if they were lying? They’re the wrong sort, them lot. I want her home.’ Jo got up. ‘I’m going to ring the police. I should have rung ’em straight away, yesterday!’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea…’ Edward said.
Braithwaite’s eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed. ‘I want to speak to you–’
Edward held up his hands in protest and ignored him.
‘Argh,’ Jo screamed in a drunken rage. ‘What’s the point! I’ve lost her. She doesn’t want me.’
‘If she hasn’t come home by the end of the week then call them but I think she’s out there, she just needs time to cool off.’
Before they left, they ensured that Jo’s door was firmly locked and that her remaining bottles of alcohol were discreetly disposed of while she slept.
Neither Edward nor Braithwaite said a word to each other on the journey back. In fact, all Braithwaite offered Edward as he left his car was a small flicker of his hand in farewell. Edward imagined that Braithwaite, for all his staunch protection of the guests he counselled, was just as glad to be away from that house as Edward. He was evidently not a man who took well to chaos and disorder.
Violet was snowed under when Edward arrived back in the office. He explained what Minnie’s friends had said and Violet seemed grateful.
Thankfully, the stories Violet had lined up to run were not nearly as controversial as the previous week. There were two men in a relationship who both thought they were cheating: that one was pretty much a go. Violet instructed Edward to liaise with the private detective agency. A drug addict had also agreed to come on the show so long as he was offered help. Violet had promised that he would be packed off to the best private clinic for six months and that they would delay the paid-for-trip to Florida until he had recovered so that he had something to look forward to. All in all, it was set to be a fairly typical week in the life of The Michael O’Shea Show.