I didn’t understand what was going on and then I saw Hannah, galloping over with a bottle of champagne. A sparkler fizzed from the bottle neck. A tray full of Moscow Mule bottles with paper umbrellas sticking out of them. The sofas were covered in purple satin cushions, curls of smoke filled the air.
‘Your birthday,’ she’d squealed, jumping up and down. Her hair was tied back in a topknot and she was wearing a slinky black dress, her hips swaying gently. ‘Tomorrow. Or had you forgotten?’ I clutched at the date in my mind and then I remembered telling the beauty therapist that I was eighteen. God. Nineteen and I hadn’t even registered. And then I remembered Hannah’s text:
I have to tell you something important.
‘Div.’ She flicked me on the arm. ‘I didn’t have to tell you anything. Just it was so last minute had to make sure you didn’t flake out. Just about managed to get these guys together.’ I looked around, smiling.
‘You told me that by the time you were twenty, you hoped you’d have a job in a club or something. Now look.’ She held up the bottle, removing the sparkler and swigging from it.
‘And holy fuck.’ Her eyes focused on my neckline. ‘You haven’t just done things by half, have you? Can I touch them?’ I let her hold up the diamonds in her hands, twisting them in the pulsing lights. ‘Jesus,’ she whistled. ‘Can I try them on later?’ I didn’t want to sound like a killjoy, or too up myself after all she had done for me, so I nodded and looked over at the rest of the group.
‘Oh yes,’ she carried on, dropping the diamonds back against my skin. ‘Look who else I gathered up. I told them you were expecting us all.’
I looked over at Ben. ‘Kaycee wanted to come out. Her first night out since having Isabella, so let’s give her a few drinks too. Show her a really good time.’
‘Hi, Kaycee. Nice to meet you,’ I said. No wonder Ben was so keen on making a life for his family. Making things good. She looked glorious and kind and my heart twitched with something I couldn’t put my finger on.
‘The baby?’ I asked, looking at them both.
‘She’s with Kaycee’s sister.’ Kaycee punched the air and laughed. ‘Freedom. Just for a few hours.’
‘And, Joanne, hi.’ She stood up and air-kissed me, holding her hand over her newly fixed chignon.
‘Hi. Lara, guess what?’ said Joanne. ‘We’ve also got something else to celebrate.’
She was smiling, looking over at Ben and I knew what was coming next.
‘Is it my song?’
‘Yup.’ She stood up and grabbed my arms and then everyone else joined in and we danced around in a circle, shrieking and screaming. The best night of my life.
‘And there’s more,’ she said. ‘There’s more. Ben? You tell her.’ I looked over at Ben who was sitting rubbing his hands up over his knees. He stood up and put his arm around me.
‘They want you to do the opener to the . . . wait for it . . .’
My mouth filled with warmth. ‘What?’ I said, because I was looking from one person to another and no one was answering me. ‘What?’ I shouted again over the sound of TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ just in case they hadn’t heard me the first time. They were all standing there looking like they’d been struck dumb.
‘Charity Aid. They want you to appear on Charity Aid. As one of the headline acts and as the lead for their charity single that will come out in the New Year.’
‘Jesus no,’ I said. I felt as though my body was lifting off into space. A vacuum between where I’d meant to be and where I actually was. ‘Oh my God,’ I said, looking at Hannah, ‘did you hear that?’ My voice barely audible.
‘Come on,’ she motioned for the bartender to bring us some more champagne flutes. ‘Let’s get hosed,’ she laughed.
I didn’t drink very much. But by the time midnight rolled around, the floor seemed to be being pulling out from underneath me. I concentrated very hard, putting one foot in front of the other, imagining my legs had steel rods through them. Jesus, I thought. And all those paps outside. I’d better pull it together.
‘Hey,’ I shouted, to no one. ‘I think I’d better go,’ but they were all over in the middle of the dance floor. Ben was dancing with Hannah, doing some funny, robotic movements that normally I’d have laughed at.
I looked for Kaycee, but I couldn’t see her. She wasn’t on the sofa where we’d been sitting all night. Joanne was in the corner, snogging someone I recognised from a soap opera.
‘All right?’ said one of the security guards.
‘I’m fine,’ I told him. And then I was being hemmed in from every corner by total strangers.
And then this girl appeared in front of me. She was small, tiny in fact, with peroxide hair in a pixie cut and black eyeliner, flicked up at the edges. She was wearing a leather jacket and silver studs and stars decorated her ears.
‘I just wanted to come and say hi.’ She gripped her hands around her stomach. ‘You were amazing on the show. We all fucking loved you.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, moving around her. I wanted her to go away, but then there were others, pushing and shoving me.
‘I really did love you. I mean really loved you. We were so glad you won. I voted for you.’ When I looked at her again, I noticed the rim of her nostrils glowing white under the UV lights.
‘Hey,’ I shouted to the bouncer. ‘Can you come and get me?’ But my voice was lost and I shouted again. He looked over this time and led me back to my seat, pushing everyone else away. ‘Here. I’ll put a rope around your table,’ he said. I noticed the girl again. She’d followed me. She was signalling for me to come back, but I shook my head and turned away from her. When I glanced back, she was banging the edges of her fist together in the air. ‘Fucking little stuck-up bitch,’ she was shouting. I squeezed my stomach muscles tight and swallowed back a glass of champagne. Ben came dancing up to me, moving from side to side.
‘Hey.’ He sounded slightly breathless. ‘Where is she?’
‘Who?’ I looked around. The peroxide-haired girl had gone.
‘Kaycee? Where is she? You must know, you’ve been with her all night.’
‘No,’ I tried to tell him I hadn’t. That I’d been on the dancefloor but he wasn’t listening.
‘Where is she? Kaycee?’ Ben was all sweaty, the grin ghosting his face. ‘She’s not here? With you?’ I shook my head.
‘Haven’t seen her for a while,’ I told him. He turned to me. ‘Bathroom? Can you just . . .’ He flicked his head towards the loos.
I stopped, thinking about all the crowds I’d pushed through. All the people who’d stopped trying to get a piece of me. But then I thought – this whole fame thing. It can’t stop me from helping people out. It can’t stop me from going about fifteen steps to the bathroom to go and find someone on behalf of someone who’d been responsible for me getting all of it in the first place.
‘Of course.’ I got up, making my way to the loos. They were sparkly black granite, with purple UV lights casting a forensic glow all over the room.
‘Kaycee?’ I shouted but there was no response and all the bathroom cubicles were shut, except one.
A lady sat in the corner, perfume bottles and sweets spread out across the surface and a change jar next to her.
‘I’m sorry,’ I told her as I walked over to the closed cubicle. ‘I’ve got nothing on me,’ which was the truth but it sounded hollow, given the thousands of pounds of jewels slung around my neck.
‘No worries at all,’ she said. I felt someone come up behind me.
‘Yeah right,’ the person behind me said under her breath. I twisted around and saw her. The pixie girl from before. I noticed for the first time how dark her roots were. My fan that supposedly loved me so much. Who had turned on me when I hadn’t given her what she wanted.
‘What did you say?’ I moved closer to her. I could smell something on her breath. Like nail polish remover and gum. But she just shook her head.
‘Stuck-up little bitch,’ she hissed, shaking
a fist at me. ‘Say you can’t spare any change.’ She was grabbing at my diamond necklace. I forgot about everything for that moment. I forgot who I was. Who I’d become.
‘What the fuck did you say to me?’ I moved closer, my hand clasped around the jewels.
At this point, I knew I should have stopped, but it was like something inside of me had come loose – a plug in a certain area of my brain and the thoughts and actions were splurging out and I no longer had any control. Stop, I thought to myself. Just stop.
But it was too late for that and I walked forwards, inhaling her cheap scent and the minty fumes from her mouth. Just too late. And I knew that if I took one – just one more step forward, that this would be the beginning of the end. Stop. I told myself. Just stop. But it seemed I had no control over myself at all and before I knew it, I was close enough to see the way her eyes had started to glint, and I could see her gums and teeth, snarling right at me. Step back, I told myself one more time. Be sensible. What would Ben do?
But as I looked at the smudges of black under her eyes, the slight scar on her right cheek, I knew it was too late.
It was too late for any of that. And then it came.
Ryans-world.com
Entry: August 27th, 0030hrs
Author: Ryan
I keep wondering if Ava’s scared. If she knows her mom is waiting for her.
I didn’t. When my mom left me. I was a few years older than Ava but still, I thought she was coming back.
Always.
I still do.
But she never did. She never has. So I keep thinking about what that feels like and wanting to tell Ava it’s OK. Never before have I wanted so much to tell someone that. That it’s OK.
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
Happy_Styles: Aw man, shucks. Stay happy, man.
Becky_with_pink_hair Bitch is probably dead by now get a life.
Selena_Gomez_Kidney My mom left me too. It doesn’t mean they don’t love us. Maybe they had to do it. Let’s stick together.
August 27th 2018
0100hrs
For a minute I forgot where I was. The idea of sleep was ludicrous. When I was sure that Detective Mcgraw had left the house, I rushed downstairs to Ava’s room.
I had forgotten that I’d asked Conor to stay over. I saw his belongings strewn all over the hall table. I’d never seen the house look anything less than perfect. It set my teeth on edge. I stopped for a second wanting to tidy up and make everything look as it normally did but the pull of finding the key fob was too strong.
When I reached Ava’s room, I heard Joan sobbing in the room next door. I briefly thought about going in there and talking to her but instead, I opened Ava’s door. I felt like I was doing something wrong. As though Joan would burst in like a great protector. I’m her mother, I told myself. I have every right to be here. But I felt like an intruder in my own home.
When I opened the door, everything looked in its correct place. The unicorn duvet was pulled up over her pillow, neatly pressed and crease-free. I felt nothing. I think at this point it was too much to process. I opened her wardrobe. Everything was in its place. And then I saw, sticking out of her pillow, a pyjama sleeve. I lifted up the pillow and saw her little pink top and bottom scrumpled up, as neatly as she could have made it, and pushed right into the middle of her bed, just as she’d been taught. Since she’d gone missing, this broke me the most. The thought that little over fifteen hours ago, my daughter had tried to be a grown-up. She’d got undressed, thought about what she should do to be a good girl. She’d done it all alone, her small fingers rolling up the material. And then she’d got herself dressed in the clothes that Joan had laid out for her the night before.
I sat down then, and cried for a very long time.
When I gained enough strength to look for the key fob I went through all her drawers, pressing my fingertips right to the back to check I hadn’t missed anything. When I’d finished looking everywhere, I crawled under her bed and found a small padlocked toy. It was a little bird that had a keypad on its tummy that served as a lock. Just as I was about to start trying to open it, I heard Joan on the intercom.
‘Lara?’ I took the bird and stuffed it up my top. I didn’t want Joan asking questions. ‘Lara,’ she called again. ‘It’s Conor. He needs you upstairs.’ I hadn’t heard her leave her room. She must have gone when I’d been crying and hadn’t noticed. Always creeping up on me somehow, wherever I went. It was starting to freak me out.
I walked upstairs, careful to leave Ava’s door open a notch, just like she wanted it when she went to sleep.
‘One second,’ I shouted to Conor, as I ran up to my room and hid the bird under my pillow. When I got back down, Conor motioned towards the kitchen. I hadn’t been in there since Ava had gone missing. I couldn’t bear to see her empty space at the table but when I followed him in, I found the light and airiness made me feel less hollowed and stuffy than my study.
‘Where’s Joan?’ I asked.
‘Don’t know. She brought me up here then disappeared.’ I looked around and then went to the door and pressed my ear right up against it.
‘What are you doing, Lara?’
‘Checking.’
‘Checking what?’
‘That Joan’s not here. I think she’s listening. Or something. Strange things keep happening.’
‘Lara? Are you OK?’
‘No,’ I shouted. ‘Conor. I’m not OK. My daughter has . . .’ I leaned on the kitchen island and wept some more. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I can’t tell what’s going on. I’m questioning everything. Second-guessing.’
‘It’s OK.’ He came closer and stretched out a hand towards me. ‘It’s OK.’
He was blinking and looking around the room. I didn’t have the energy to absorb his awkwardness.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to discuss these.’ He held out his phone again. I shook my head.
‘No, Conor,’ I whispered. ‘No. I’m tired.’
‘There’s something going on,’ he said. ‘These emails. They keep coming. You told me it was OK. But they seem to know things. About you.’
‘Like what?’ I hiccupped.
‘Like your real birthday.’
I went silent. When I’d first been launched in LA, Conor had told people I’d been born on Valentine’s Day. ‘Just makes you that bit sweeter,’ he said. ‘It’s coming up soon and I’m going to tie you in with a couple of campaigns. Heart-based things. All right?’ I’d agreed unthinkingly, even forgetting my real birthday of December the twelfth.
I thought back to who knew my real birthday. My friends from England. My family. Everyone who knew me back then. People I’d worked with.
‘But it would be easy enough to find my real birthday,’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t it?’
‘Well, only if they knew to look. Right?’ His eyebrows lifted. ‘Right, Lara? Listen, I need you to help me out here. Something’s going on.’
‘Nothing’s going on.’ But all the paranoia from before, the thought of Detective Mcgraw watching me, the CCTV from the pool house, Matthew talking to Joan, the key fob, let alone Ava’s disappearance – the list was endless – it all started to seep in and I began to lose control of my mind. My thoughts kept slipping from my grasp, fading into nothingness before I could make any sense of them.
‘Lara. What are you doing?’ Conor asked, looking over at the door. I followed his eyeline and then strode over.
‘Did you hear something?’ I asked.
‘No. Lara. Listen to me. Stop it. I need you to stop this now. I need you to focus. Look at me, Lara.’ He stood up and walked over, placing a hand on each of my shoulders. I’d never felt Conor touch me before. He seemed to have an aversion to physical contact of any sort, and would go rigid if I ever tried to kiss him hello but here he was, exerting great pressure on to me.
‘Focus. Now. Please.’
‘OK.’
‘What are you hiding from me. These emails. They’re not right. I’ve read enough to know the shit some of your obsessed fans come out with. Declarations of never-ending love. All that shit. But this is different, Lara. It’s scaring me. The tone of the emails. They’re desperate. Asking you to contact them. I’m afraid that something big is about to happen and you know what it is and you won’t tell me. Tell me. Now. Please.’ He took a sharp breath inwards.
‘Do they give a name?’
‘Just a number. The email address is some gobbledegook shit.’ He tried to pass me his phone so I could take a closer look but I swatted his hand away.
‘Lara. Please. Help me. I’m sinking here. We need to find Ava.’
‘I know,’ I snapped. ‘Don’t you think I’m desperate? I just need some time to think.’
‘No. Time is something we don’t have. You need to manage this. For me.’ He walked away from me. ‘For Ava.’
‘Everything I do is for Ava. This is for Ava. I’m trying to protect us. Don’t you see?’
‘As am I.’ His blinking was so fast I could barely see his eyeballs.
‘Lara. Listen. If you’re embarrassed about something, I don’t care. I couldn’t give two fucks if you killed the Queen of England. My job here is to protect you. My client. That is my job. My one and only job.’ He wiped his forehead. ‘You know those journalists? Who shoot poor, dying orphans with their shit-hot cameras? And everyone says, why didn’t you step in? Why didn’t you help them? Why didn’t you give them some bread?’ He walked back over to where I was, and shook me again. ‘Because that’s not their fucking job. Just like it’s not my job to care about what you’ve done. My job is to be the best at what I do, which is to keep your reputation squeaky clean and to keep you universally adored. So whatever’ – he scraped his hands through his hair – ‘the fuck it is you are hiding from me, you need to tell me. Now. You’re behaving strangely. Something’s not right. This is not just worry over your daughter. There’s something else.’ He collapsed in a wooden chair opposite me. ‘I can tell from the way you’re acting. The weird disconnected looks. I don’t own this industry for nothing, Lara, and I need to know.’ He was quiet then, his brown eyes pinning me down.
Your Guilty Secret Page 16
