Your Guilty Secret

by Rebecca Thornton

  ‘Hello.’ She went quiet and then spoke again. ‘Manny.’ She clamped her hand over her mouth.

  ‘Hello, Ava,’ he said. ‘It’s a silly name isn’t it. Manny.’ And she opened her mouth and I saw the pink of her tongue, the flash of her small white teeth.

  ‘It’s a nice name.’ She laughed again. ‘I like it.’ He laughed with her, his whole body softening.

  ‘Well, thank you. It’s lovely to meet you and I very much like your name too.’ He turned to me. ‘May I use your restroom?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Just don’t go stealing our cashmere quilted toilet paper.’ A dig at reporter Eva Borthwick, who’d managed to swipe a roll or two at a previous press day. I expected him to laugh with me as he had with Ava, but he’d already resumed his serious face again. I felt stung. I called over to Joan, who was standing by the door ready to leave.

  ‘Joan, before you go, please show Manny where the bathroom is, whilst I get some last-minute make-up done. Thank you.’

  I watched the back of him as he stooped under the door frame – a strange habit, given he wasn’t particularly tall. Conor called over from the other side of the room.

  ‘Guys, quick. Ava, Lara. Whilst he’s in the bathroom, we need to Insta this moment. To get everyone pumped.’

  ‘I need my make-up redone.’ I beckoned them both over to the make-up station that had been set up for the day – a plain white table, in front of a huge, gilt-framed body-length mirror set up with lighting around the edges.

  ‘Fine,’ said Conor. ‘Ava, sit with your mom whilst Tavie does her make-up.’ At first, Ava sat on my knee.

  ‘Ava, off of me, darling.’ I pointed to Tavie, who was dabbing collagen gel onto my skin. ‘Just until this is done.’ Ava did as I had asked, but then got back up again.

  ‘Mom,’ she said, pressing her face into my neck. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘You’ll be OK.’ I tilted my face away from hers, not wanting to ruin my make-up. ‘You’ve been doing brilliantly.’

  ‘No, I mean.’ She lifted her head. ‘It’s going to be different around here after we do this, isn’t it?’ Her eyes swept across the room. ‘Just, everything’s gonna change.’ The room went silent and Tavie stood, make-up sponge in mid-air. I held my breath, thinking that any minute now, Manny was going to walk through the door.

  ‘That’s OK,’ I told her but really I was getting agitated to keep things going as they were. I should have realised, though, that Ava was finding it stressful too.

  By the time Manny returned from the bathroom and Conor had uploaded a picture to Instagram, Ava was back to her usual self. I watched as she threw herself at the zebra-skin chaise longue across the room. I looked at the contours of her face that had been brushed with a very light powder. A small, round apple of blusher on her cheeks. She looked blissful. I knew the public would be so excited to see us, to see what the new future would hold.

  ‘Are we ready to go?’ I called over to Manny who was flicking through old editions of Vogue. ‘And if so, where’s our guest of honour? Must be here somewhere.’ I forced a laugh but looked at my watch. It was later than I had thought. Even a few minutes out of schedule and the whole day would collapse. The announcement was due soon and it certainly couldn’t be done without a full house.

  ‘Anyone? Conor? Could you be an absolute love and help me have a look for Matthew?’ I pulled out my phone and checked WhatsApp. Offline. And he had been for the past two hours. What the hell?

  Where are you, darling? We’re all here waiting. See you soon?

  ‘One minute, everyone. I’m just going to use the bathroom.’ My heart was pounding. I could see Ava in the corner, her eyes following me across the room.

  Please, Ava, I begged inwardly. Don’t start asking where I’m going. Thankfully, she stayed put, although I could see her limbs twitching to get up and follow me.

  ‘I’ll be right back.’ I blew her a kiss. ‘Mummy’s just going to be five minutes. You’re doing so well.’

  I walked out the room, my jaw set tight. Someone had started pumping up the music. Rihanna. The beat sliced through me, putting me even more on edge. When I reached my study, I sat down in my custom-designed sleek orange swivel chair and WhatsApp’d Conor in the other room.

  Lara: What is going on? He’s not answering my messages. Have you spoken to him?

  Conor: I don’t know. Sit tight. It’ll be OK. Just get back in here and carry on as normal. Manny doesn’t suspect anything. We’ll just stall.

  Lara: We can’t stall. All the press are coming in about two hours. They expect me to be a diva. I don’t want to give them any unnecessary ammo.

  Conor: I’m on it. Don’t worry. Sometimes it’s good to show them you’re a bit of a diva. Beefs up the narrative.

  Lara: But I’m not

  I started to type and then deleted it. I had better things to be doing. I wondered whether to warn Fantine, the events manager, that things might be running late. No, leave it. Don’t cause unnecessary panic.

  I put down the phone and looked around the room. The oak panels were shiny and clean with no smudge marks on them. All my books, awards and blown-up magazine covers were in their right place. Except I could feel something was off. For a minute, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I glanced around again and that was when I saw the key-box was half open. It was a padlocked box, gold-leafed and attached to the wall to the left of my desk, so that each set of keys hung down neatly on hooks. My name was etched on the outside. On the inside there were around forty bunches of keys kept under tight security. Only Favio the estate manager and Joan had spares.

  Strange, I murmured. I didn’t recall opening the box. At least not in the past week and even then, I was sure to close it. And if I hadn’t, Joan would have noticed, given it was on her list of things to do at the end of each night. Maybe I had opened it and forgotten. After all, my mind had been on other things for the past few days. I got up and swung it open fully, tracing my nails down the hooks.

  I skimmed through each key. Everything was in its place except for the one labelled ‘swimming pool annexe – indoors’ which had been put back at a different angle. I readjusted it. Weird. I shut the box, except I knew something wasn’t right; an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach.

  It was then I thought to check the main security system. I logged on from my phone, panning to the swimming pool annexe. The screen was blank. Someone must have obstructed the camera’s view. No one could have derigged any of the recording devices without the system going off.

  What the hell was going on? I thought about the last time I had used the indoor pool. Probably over a year ago, the weather was always too nice to need it. It was cleaned and maintained once a week and that would have been last Tuesday along with the outdoor pool. My mind started reeling.

  Not the time to think about it, I told myself, checking my phone again. Nothing, but just as I got up to leave I got a text.

  Conor: Lara, come back. Looks weirder you having gone to bathroom for ages. We’ll sort it together.

  I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind, but at the same time anger uncoiled itself in me, at the thought that something could go wrong on my big day. Everything had been organised with such precision and now this. I wondered about my plans for next year. How they’d be affected if this didn’t go as I’d predicted. I steeled myself against any such outcome and strode right back into the room.

  Ava was in the corner playing with a small Tamagotchi toy she’d got as a present the week before. Everyone was busy setting up. Manny sat on one of the sofas on his phone.

  ‘Ten minutes,’ I said to everyone. ‘I’m so sorry. Things have been a little held up.’

  I walked over to Conor who was sitting showing Marco something on his phone.

  ‘I can’t carry on like this,’ I hissed. ‘Pretending everything’s normal.’

  ‘You’re doing a good job. Just focus. You’re a master at this. OK? And the gossip blogs are going mad trying to f
ind out what’s going on. Everyone’s on tenterhooks. So this isn’t such a bad thing.’

  ‘OK but, Conor, come on. Do something, please. This is all going to shit. This is the start of everything. You said so yourself. How can you be so calm? It’s your reputation on the line too, don’t forget.’

  ‘Ten minutes.’ He pointed at his phone. ‘Let’s just give him ten more minutes. I’ll set a timer and if Matthew hasn’t arrived by then we’ll think again. Yes?’

  ‘Fine.’ I gritted my teeth, all the while the lights seared right through me. I barely noticed Ava, still in the corner. Marco got up and was checking angles and lights and held up his wrist for me to see his watch.

  I looked over at Conor’s phone. Ten minutes. I could do this. I relented and ended up chatting to the production staff for what felt like hours, for want of anything else to do, all the while feeling more and more like I was going to combust. And then Conor’s phone alarm went off. Ten minutes was up. He shook his head at me. I took that as read that he still hadn’t been able to get hold of Matthew.

  ‘Right.’ Conor clapped his hands. ‘I know you have all been so patient and so good, but I’m afraid our guest of honour, Matthew Raine, has had to deal with an emergency at home. His father.’ I saw Conor fumbling on his thoughts, trying to work out if Matthew had ever mentioned his father in public, whether he even had a father who was still alive. And then I realised that despite Conor’s earlier nonchalance, he was now nervous, his smile frozen onto his face, blinking as though he had a piece of grit in his eye. He’d prepared this day so that hundreds of press turned up. We’d have to give them something else big if Matthew didn’t show. My mind sped up trying to think of possibilities.

  I thought of Derek Raine, and wanted to reassure Conor he was OK. That Matthew’s dad was not going to be in the spotlight anytime soon. And then I made a mental note to get Conor to stand outside and intercept Matthew when he finally showed his face, so he didn’t blow our cover.

  ‘Manny, I’m sorry about this.’ I clasped my hands tight. ‘It’s awful form to do this to you. Keep you waiting when you’ve come all this way. Look. Do you want to, I don’t know, sit?’

  ‘Oh please, I’m used to waiting around for interviews. This is nothing. I’ve left my laptop charger in the car anyway,’ Manny said. ‘I’ll just go out and get it whilst we wait.’ He jangled his car keys at me. ‘Do I just let security know I’m going out?’

  ‘That’s right. They’ve got your name and details so they know you’re on the property. Rosa will see you out and deal with our security keypad.’ I pressed the intercom and dialled into the kitchen.

  ‘Rosa, if you could just see Manny Berkowitz out the house, I’d be very grateful.’ I turned to smile at him and as I did so, I caught sight of a Hermes ‘H’ keyring he had hooked onto his finger. On it was a white and silver fob. My heart jumped and at first I didn’t know why. Then I realised. That was it, I thought. It was meant to have a fob. The swimming pool annexe key. It was meant to have a golden fob and it was gone. It was possible to use the fob to open the door to the annexe. I started to feel light-headed but knew I had to hold it together. Why would anyone want to go to the indoor pool when it wasn’t even in use? I was absolutely certain it hadn’t been me. I gripped my fingers around the diamond necklace again, feeling unable to breathe, that familiar feeling wrapping itself around me.

  ‘I’ll see you in just a minute,’ I called out, looking at Conor. It was only then that I realised Ava, at this point, had also disappeared. All that was left was her Tamagotchi, its eyes blinking and mouth grinning at me, from the chaise longue.

  Ryans-world.com

  Entry: August 26th, 1650hrs

  Author: Ryan

  You know when something bad happens? Like, real bad and there are some people that just get super loud? Like, the more foghorn their voice, the more they think they are going to erase every shitty feeling they’ve got? It’s like that here. Online and offline. A massive echo chamber of thoughts and emotions. It’s like everyone’s personally offended by this awful shit that’s going down.

  Let’s take a deep breath. Concentrate on what’s at stake here. A small girl’s life. Not some shitty grudges you guys have been holding about something totally unrelated. Yeah?

  In terms of news of Ava there’s been nothing so far. I’m still here, in the canyon. It’s hot. So hot. I keep peeling my clothes off me. We’ve all given up and the sweat’s now just running off our faces into our eyes, and down our faces. Everyone’s blinking like there’s some crazy dust storm about. If you wanna help, bring fans. Those small plastic ones.

  Lara King hasn’t come out her house since she left the press conference, but I can tell you now that in the past few minutes, the film star Matthew Raine has made a statement, through his people, to say that he will keep us all posted. We’d all been keeping our eyes peeled (try admitting you don’t care about seeing Matthew Raine in the flesh even at a time like this. I promised Granma I’d try and get a photo. He’s in that new sci-fi series on Netflix too. Oh my God. Meeting him is top of her bucket list!).

  ‘I’ll be in and out,’ he said through his people, ‘helping the search but also trying my best to support Lara. She’s doing the very, very best she can under such awful circumstances, and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for all your support.’ But then people tell me that he’s made his way back to the police station, so we’re not sure what strange things are going on. I’ll be sure to keep you posted as and when.

  Here with the latest updates on missing Ava King, brought to you by Lara and Ava King’s number one fan.

  Twitter: @ryan_gosling_wannabe

  August 26th 2018

  1700hrs

  Forgive me. I’m not thinking straight. I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m guessing most of you already know who I am. For those of you who don’t – who truly don’t – given that I’m begging you all to help me find my daughter, I think it’s probably a good place to start.

  My name is Lara King. I’m thirty-six years old. I’m a star. A celebrity. If the papers are to be believed, I’m a global phenomenon. Whatever that means to you, to me, to any of us. My daughter is six. And well, you’d have to have been hiding under a rock in the past few hours not to know what’s happened. You won’t quite know the finer details surrounding her disappearance yet. But I’m coming on to that.

  When Detective Mcgraw finished asking me about the events of the day, and went on to ask about Ava’s father, I almost forgot where I was.

  ‘Ava’s father?’ I placed a hand on my chest. ‘She doesn’t know him.’

  ‘And you, Ms King?’ I looked at him, the answer on the tip of my tongue but then I remembered I was here. In my study, with the huge windows, the crystal chandelier, the globe that Ava loved to spin, and the smell of old books. I was here, and my daughter was missing. This wasn’t a chat show where I’d laugh and tell the host that some things had to be kept secret, whilst fluttering my hand in front of my eyes. ‘I’m aware that this might be sensitive.’ He took a breath. ‘But if you could give us a name. Details. Some insight into his character, how you met.’ His eyes swivelled across the room at this point and rested again on the photo of me when I was pregnant. ‘Please.’

  ‘But, Ava’s father? Why would you need to know?’

  ‘We need to just really explore every single avenue and make sure that no stone has been left unturned.’ He took a breath. ‘It might help us look into new areas.’

  ‘This is sensitive. You’re right. She doesn’t know him. And nor do I. He was an acquaintance. At a party. I don’t even know whose party it was. I ended up there after some awards ceremony.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Ms King. Please. No judgement. A name is all we need.’

  ‘I’d had too much champagne,’ I told him, shaking all over. ‘I don’t normally drink. I guess it was just a stupid mistake. Except, of course it gave me Ava.’

  ‘So you don’t actually know who he is?’ Detecti
ve Mcgraw said lightly.

  I thought about the due diligence that had gone into finding Ava’s birth father. That no one had as yet succeeded. Not the public. Not the most eager of press who’d found a blank space on her birth certificate where her paternity should have been.

  ‘It was an Oscars after party. Hosted by Lucy Wigmore. That’s what I can remember. The guy – he was called Tom. Weston, I think. Or Westfield. Westburt. I’ve never been able to properly recall.’ I swallowed. I’d never said those words out loud before but of course, everything was at stake here. ‘I’ve googled variations. Looked for him. I remember he was a Brit. But no, he doesn’t know.’

  ‘OK. Thank you, Ms King. Ever hire someone to help you find him?’

  ‘No,’ I snapped.

  ‘You never wanted to tell Ava who he was? Was she interested?’

  ‘No.’ I rubbed at a small stain on my desk. I didn’t know why. It had been there for years and was ingrained into the wood. ‘Look—’ I felt he wasn’t going to stop until I gave him some sort of explanation and I wanted him off my back. ‘In my position,’ I said slowly, ‘I need to be careful about who I trust. Who I let into my life. That kind of thing. Ava and I are happy as we are. We’ve built up a team of people around us that we trust. Most of whom were with us before we got into the public eye.’

  ‘All right. Thank you, Ms King.’ I thought about the press. The lengths that they had gone to, to delve into my life. Very imaginative, some of them, I had to say.

  ‘Whilst I’m on the subject,’ said Detective Mcgraw, ‘is there anyone else you can think of who might’ve known your whereabouts today?’

  I shook my head, thinking back to this morning.

  ‘No. It was just us. It was all meant to be perfect.’ I thought about Joan. How pleased she’d been when I’d told her it was mother-daughter time.

  ‘All right. Anything you can think of that didn’t seem right to you in the past few days?’