'Did you think I killed her?' I say.
'Of course not. Of course not. How could you even ask that? Of course I didn't. But don't you realise how bad this looks? Do you have no idea of the impact this will have on me . . . and on you.'
'Really? I had no idea there'd be any impact,' I say, loading my words with as much sarcasm as they'll carry.
'And what about going through all my things when I was in LA? What about the fact that you don't trust me?'
'I can't defend the way I behaved,' I say. 'I don't know what was wrong with me. I was awful. I shouldn't have done that.'
'The bottom line is that you didn't trust me, isn't it? All this nonsense about the carpenter coming to mend the drawer. That was because you thought I was hiding something from you.'
'Because Elody persuaded me to . . .'
'Forget about Elody,' he yells. 'I'm not interested in fucking Elody. I'm interested in you. I'm interested in the fact that you simply didn't trust me and tried to hide that from me, and in the process lied to the police so much that you got yourself arrested for murder. You were so bloody keen to squirm your way out of things that you lied. Shit, Kelly. You lied to the police when one of our friends had been murdered. And you know what really hurts?'
Go on tell me. I've gone so beyond pain these past few days that we need a whole new word for hurt. Nothing he can do can wound me when I feel as if my heart's been blown apart.
'I spent every minute of every day in LA missing you like crazy.'
'I'm sorry,' I say, trying to catch his eye but being met by nothing but coldness and contempt, which make me suddenly feel very defensive. 'What do you expect when I find a bracelet exactly like Elody's in the drawer?'
'It was for Mum. She's always loved Elody's necklace – you know – the one Elody always wears, because it was given to her by Jon. I saw the matching bracelet so bought it for Mum, for Christmas.
'When I was living in New York, Mum would always come to my house to visit before Christmas and be like a schoolgirl, trying to find presents. I thought she'd come to the house to visit when she was over for the Interior Design Awards and I thought she'd start hunting for presents, so I hid them. I taped the jewellery to the inside of the drawer; it was the only place I could think where Mum wouldn't look. I didn't realise that she wouldn't be here because you wouldn't invite her to stay. Anything else you need to know so you can start trusting me again?
'I did ask your Mum to stay,' I retort. 'But Elody warned her not to come.'
'Oh yes,' he says. 'I remember now. Everything is Elody's fault, isn't it? Shit, Kelly. This is insane. I rushed back and proposed to you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but all you were doing was going through my things. You didn't trust me. I don't understand why.'
He carries on after that, musing vocally about the way things have panned out between us, but I'm still stuck back in the beginning of his soliloquy. The bit where he says, 'I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you . . .' 'Wanted' . . . past tense. It's over. He says he's organised for money to be transferred into my savings account, and practically throws my passbook over to me. He's put more money in there than I'd need in ten years. Everything he does seems to confirm my worst fears . . . this relationship is over. He's making sure that I'm looked after. Or, if I'm being cynical, he's making sure I have no reason to go to the press. Either way, he wants to make sure that I don't go without, but he no longer wants to be with me.
Rufus sleeps while I sit here, staring up at the oh so beautiful walls, covered in the most expensive wallpaper that money can buy, chosen by his wonderful mother with her immaculate taste and her team of perfect interior designers. And as I'm looking at all this wealth and luxury, all I can think is: God this is shit. I mean, I love Rufus so much it terrifies me sometimes, but I can't do this now. I've messed it all up. These few months here have changed me beyond recognition. No, that's not true; they've shown me who I am for the first time in my life and made me realise that what I want and what I'm getting are two very different things.
Elody was the most stylish person I ever met, and where did it get her? She's dead now. She was dressed beautifully when she slipped down those steps and the dagger that murdered her was beautiful and priceless, like the woman herself. But she was never happy. Are any of these people happy?
Elody had everything in abundance but in the end it amounted to nothing at all. I want so much more than this . . . I don't want fluffy carpets and expensive heating systems to keep me warm, I want someone's love. I want someone with me who loves me and understands me. I want someone who forgives me when I get things wrong. This is just crap.
Chapter 26
'Thanks, Henry.'
'No problem,' he says. 'Let me give you a hand with your bags.'
He climbs slowly out of his seat, walks round to the boot and lifts out my luggage. I've left half of my stuff at Rufus's house. Henry says he'll bring it over later.
'Can I say something?' Henry says, looking at me nervously.
'Of course.'
'I feel bad about what happened to you. I feel bad that the police told me to recall everything you said in the car. I told them that you said you could kill Elody. I regret that. I shouldn't have said it. Everyone knows you couldn't have killed Elody. I just answered their questions. I wanted you to know, none of us thought for one second that you killed Elody.'
'I think Rufus may have had his doubts.'
'No,' says Henry. 'No, that's not true.'
'Why didn't he come to the police station to see me then? Why did he hide away and pretend none of this was anything to do with him?'
'He tried to come to the police station but the police said he couldn't. They said you had no right to visits as the prime suspect in a murder investigation. They wouldn't let him phone or visit. Christ, he was trying everything. His legal team all told him to keep away or he'd be arrested. At one point I thought he might go and get himself arrested just to be there with you and support you through it all.'
I'm looking down at the road.
'Kelly, are you OK?' he asks.
'Yes.'
'Have you thought this through? Do you really want to go?' As he speaks, he lays the second of my three bags down onto the freezing cold pavement.
'Yes,' I say. 'I have no choice.'
'You do,' he counters, but I shake my head. I really don't think I have any choice but to stay away from Rufus and all his life represents, until I can work out what I, Kelly Monsoon, want out of life. I have so much to think about. I can't go back there. Not now, probably not ever.
It's 4 am. I had no desire to alert the world's press to my decision to leave the house, so asked Henry if he'd mind driving me. He'd taken Mum and Dad back to Hastings at midnight, so I knew he'd be around once the world had gone to bed. When I called Sophie and Mandy they couldn't have been more supportive.
'Of course you can come back here,' they say. 'We'd love to have you back. Any time.' They even cancelled the new flatmate, due to move in on Monday.
It's odd to think that when I moved to Richmond, I thought it was the beginning of a vastly different life. Ha! Well, that was true. But it wasn't a life that I wanted.
I can't believe now that I caught the bus because I didn't have any money and was too scared to ask Rufus. What a wimp. I remember dragging those bags along, thinking my fingers were about to break under the pressure of all those handles. Christ. Well, if I've learnt one thing from Elody, and particularly from my experiences with the police, it's to have more confidence, speak my mind and really think about myself a bit more rather than everyone else. I was so obsessed with not letting Rufus down, and not letting Elody down, that I told half-truths and almost got myself bloody locked away. Never again!
'Henry, thank you; that's so kind of you.'
'No problem,' he says, climbing back into his car. 'We're gonna miss you, you know.'
'I'll miss you too,' I tell him and we look at each other for a brief second th
rough the open window, a look full of sadness and understanding. It's like he acknowledges that so much has happened this week that the only way I can cope with it all is to get away.
'Come back soon,' he says and I just smile because I can't imagine how I can possibly go back after all that's happened. I can't imagine anything in the future at all, to be honest. All I know is that it's 4 am on Sunday 6 December and I'm standing outside the flat where I once lived, hoping that I don't make things too awful for Mandy and Sophie by being here. The press are bound to track me down eventually, of course, but if I can just stay here for a while until I've sorted myself out, got my head straight and worked out what to do with my life, that would be the greatest treat of all.
I might go abroad, or just get another job here. I don't think I could go back to the old one. My days in Richmond Theatre are definitely over. But how will I get another job? Who'd want want to employ me? Perhaps I should 'sell my story' as I'm being urged to by so many tabloid editors and publishers. 'You'll make a million,' they insist. 'Get yourself an agent.' Christ, I can't think of anything worse. Having experienced first-hand what it's like to have people talking about you all the time, I'd never do that.
There's much to think about but I'll do that tomorrow. I knock on the door gently. The best sound I've heard in ages is of footsteps thundering down the stairs. Mandy hurls herself through the door and hugs me tightly. Sophie's there too, pulling me close to her and letting me cry my eyes out on her big, soft, towelling dressing gown.
We all walk into the small entrance hall leading to the stairs up to our little pad. I feel so safe here. I know that's ridiculous because I was a million times 'safer', whatever that word means, in the big house in Richmond surrounded by guards and state-of-the-art security systems, but this place is safe because it's full of people like me. It's got Mandy and Sophie in it and they understand me. There are no fabulous Parisienne stylists and no women walking round with clipboards and shouting instructions as if they were trying to take over the moon. There's no Christine to consult before I can work out whether my boyfriend wants coffee and no elderly butler always just a second away from us, awaiting instructions. I guess you get used to that way of living; Rufus certainly doesn't seem to think it's odd, but then he grew up with it. It's part of his heritage; part of who he is. No one asked him to make any changes. I'm not criticising because it would have been daft for him to come and live in my flat, but I suppose I mean that Rufus made a mistake by expecting me to slot in and quietly get on with my new life while he travelled off to the other side of the world. I lost my job, my friends and my independence and every value I've ever known went out of the window. Nope, I love Rufus more than I've ever loved anyone in my life before, and I can't imagine life without him, but I can't do what he needs me to do. It turns out that I have more sense of myself, and sense of individuality, than I ever realised and that's got to be a good thing. Hasn't it? Has it?
We drag the bags up the stairs and I take in the dreadful peeling paint and scuff marks traced across the walls. Never noticed them before. I can get them fixed now. One of the advantages of having some money – in the short term at least – will be the ability to make this flat nice.
'Let's leave them here for now,' says Soph, letting go of the heavier of the bags that she had gallantly offered to bring up for me. I think she regretted it the minute she attempted to lift it but, kindly, she didn't say anything, just grimaced as she bobbed it up the stairs.
'The guys'll bring them in for us.'
'What g—?'
We walk into the sitting room and I see straight away what guys she's referring to. There, sitting on our madly dilapidated sofa, are Jimmy Lapdance and three of his biggest bouncers, all of them done up to the nines in their gold jewellery, impossibly shiny black shoes and, in one case, a matching impossibly shiny black head. Jimmy jumps up and swaggers over to me.
''Ello, doll-face,' he says. 'This is Morgan, Mather and Prentice.'
I smile at the three bouncers while Jimmy surveys them proudly. His little hairy hands rest on his fleshy hips while he taps his foot in time to an imaginary drumbeat. 'You got yourself into a bit of a trouble, didn't you?'
'Er . . . yep,' I say. 'A leetle bit of trouble.'
'Jimmy's come to help us,' says Sophie. Now this is odd, because there's nothing about Jimmy that would move you to think he could help. He certainly doesn't look like an angel of mercy, with his tub-shaped torso and ungainly swagger. He has more product in his hair than the Twickenham branch of Boots sells on the average Saturday afternoon. He drips in jewellery, clanking and banging like a badly oiled machine with every move. But still, he's a real heart-of-gold sort of guy, and I can see why the girls brought him round in this time of great need.
'Right, this is the thing,' he says, his little eyes twinkling in a way that is more pretty than menacing. 'You're gonna need protecting from the paps, ain't ya?'
I love the way he calls them 'paps' like he's used to dealing with the world's media every day.
'Yes, I guess I will,' I reply, touched by the way in which these guys have come to our assistance, the most unlikely of knights in shining armour, but very welcome ones!
'We're gonna have a shift system outside the flat. There'll always be a bouncer there so the paps can't get too close.'
'OK. Thanks. That would be great,' I say, but I have to confess that I'm not filled with confidence. Surely it'll take more than Jimmy and his mates to hold back the media enough to make my life worth living.
'I know what you're thinking,' says Jimmy. 'You're thinking, how can that dodgy old bloke and his mates keep me safe? Well, I'll tell you, doll-face, we can and we will. No one will get past my guys.'
'It's very kind of you,' I say, but grateful as I am, I'm wondering what Jimmy is getting out of this; he's making quite a commitment to me.
'We might be handing out leaflets and trying to get some of me Suga Daddys girls into the picture from time to time . . . that OK?' he says.
I say yes because it is. I don't care what Jimmy does with the photographers if it's legal and it results in them being kept away from me.
'They won't get near you when you're in the flat,' says Jimmy.
'So now we just need to work out what places you're going to want to go to out of the flat, and how we make sure you're safe there,' says Mandy.
'The Rose Garden,' I reply, before I've even thought about the question. 'I'd really love to be able to go to the Rose Garden.'
The bouncers look from one to the other. Jimmy looks like a man who's never heard anything quite so ridiculous in his entire life. 'What d'ya wanna go there for?' he asks.
'It's beautiful and tranquil and I'm just kind of in love with it,' I say. This is all above and beyond the remit of the bouncers who shuffle in their seats. I can almost read their minds: We came 'ere to make sure no geezer got no pictures of her, we never expected to be hearing all about the bleeding Rose Garden.
'There's a guy there called Frank who Rufus knows well. I'll get him to look out for me,' I say.
'OK, why don't the three of us go down there tomorrow and take two bouncers and case the joint,' says Mandy, opting to take a rare and quite alarming foray into the language of the all-American cop movie.
'Yes,' says Sophie with a smile. 'Tomorrow will be case-the-joint day.'
Oh good.
Chapter 27
EXCLUSIVE
By Katie Joseph
Daily Post Showbiz Editor
As the story of Elody Elloissie and the mystery over who murdered her once again dominates the headlines, Katie Joseph takes a look behind the stylish woman and reveals what life was really like for the one-time golden girl of fashion.
Elody Elloissie was a lonely woman with few friends. She never knew her own parents, never knew the love and devotion of a family around her. He story is desperately sad. The woman who would go on to become the queen of the red carpet dressing had humble beginnings when she was found left outside a hospit
al like a waif and stray from a Dickens novel. The hospital named her Elody after the nurse who looked after her and the young girl began a life of moving from foster home to foster home until a permanent carer could be found.
Elody's childhood was miserable, fractious and painful. She was eventually adopted when she was six years old but still she couldn't settle down to a normal life because her new adoptive parents brought her to England where young Elody had a terrible time adjusting to the new language, new friends and new surroundings. She was isolated and alone and struggled to make any meaningful friendships.
By the time she was seventeen, she was a rebel without a cause. She had left home and moved in with a succession of disreputable men until she came across Jon Boycott, the fashion designer who died two years ago, from a drugs overdose. Elody never recovered from the death of her great love.
It was through this boyfriend that she met and fell in love with the world of fashion. She was a natural when she went along with her boyfriend to fashion shoots and helped to style the models. She went to work on a magazine and became an instant hit. Verda Petron, former editor of French Vogue recalls, 'She was a quiet girl who just got on with the job. She was always first in the office, always last to leave. When Jon died, though, she changed. She became brittle and determined. I never saw her cry over Jon's death but she was a changed person as a result of it. She worked harder and became determined to be successful at any cost. It was almost as if she blamed herself for his death.'
Elody was at her most successful in the 1990s when she and Jon became the golden couple of fashion. Celebrities and stars wanted her to work with them and magazine designers wanted to feature her. She was a star. The trouble with being a star in the fickle world of fashion is that it is bound to come to a sudden end. Elody was always seen as being part of the Jon and Elody brand, known as 'Jelody'. When Jon died and it all ended, it stung her badly.
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