Eliza remembered Harry mentioning how he’d managed to keep Stu away from the press. Would he sell his story if he were desperate for money?
‘I’d better speak to Dad. He’s worried Stu might become a loose anti-Rose cannon.’
Mac smiled – a wary half-smile. ‘No, leave it to me. It’s why I got in touch with Hamish. He’s an old friend; he’s got my back. Hamish’ll sort him out.’
‘Sort him out how?’
‘Guys like Stu respond better to a show of strength than gentle persuasion. Harry’s not going to carry on giving him money forever, son or not. I don’t want Stu making an enemy of Harry. He’s a complete hothead. He doesn’t think before he acts. Like you say, it could be bad for Rose.’
Eliza put down her fork. ‘Hamish isn’t . . . violent, is he? I mean, this is my half-brother we’re talking about.’
‘Och, don’t worry. Hamish is too clever for anything like that.’
KIT: Hey, your CEO-ness. Could use your feedback on Dark Soul rewrites. Free tonight?
ELIZA: Your place?
KIT: Pub
The script was now a slightly toned-down version of that alarming original Eliza had first read, but was none the weaker for it. There was nothing she’d enjoy more than diving back into it with Will and Kit. And she could use a night out.
She pulled a face at the year-end accounts Cecil had asked her to sign off.
ELIZA: Yes. Pub. I’ll be there by 7 xx
She brooded on the Mac situation as she left. On impulse, she sent a text:
ELIZA: Going to the George with Will and Kit to discuss Dark Soul, if you want to join us?
MAC: Love to!
When Mac arrived, Rizz was with her. Eliza couldn’t help smiling – he was so cute. His black jeans were tucked into lace-up boots, and he wore a baggy white long-sleeved shirt. His long wavy hair was tied back in a ponytail. He looked like a musketeer.
‘Ciao!’ he said.
‘How bloody gorgeous,’ said Will, as Rizz headed to the bar for drinks.
‘Thought you’d approve,’ said Mac, winking at Will.
‘Word has it he’s totally crushing on you.’
‘Och, he certainly brightens my days, Will.’ She sat down next to Kit. ‘Which is good, seeing as my nights are mostly shite.’
‘How so?’ said Will.
‘Stu. Don’t know how much more I can take.’
‘You must be proud, bold . . . resolute . . . ’
‘And now and then stab, as occasion serves,’ finished Kit.
‘Jesus, who said that?’ asked Mac.
‘Marlowe,’ said Kit, and he winked at Eliza.
‘I should text him, let him know I’ll be late,’ said Mac, taking out her phone.
‘You’re not his mum,’ said Kit.
‘No, but I worry like I am. Squish in,’ she said, patting the space beside her as Rizz returned.
He blushed and edged up close.
‘OK,’ said Eliza. ‘Shall we make a start?’
An hour or so later they were so absorbed in their discussion that they didn’t notice Stu, as he made his way over and stood watching them.
Kit said something outrageously degenerate, and Rizz gasped. ‘Mamma mia! Kit, you make me blush!’
‘Result,’ said Kit.
‘Maybe scrub that line,’ said Eliza.
‘Wipe it from your memory, bonny lad,’ said Mac, putting her hands over his ears.
‘Who the fuck is this?’
Everyone looked up in surprise. Stu’s bloodshot eyes were locked on Rizz, who suddenly looked terrified.
‘Stu, hi,’ said Eliza, calmly. ‘We’re having a production meeting. This is Rizz, our PA and—’
‘Jesus, another fag,’ he slurred. ‘Is it compulsory at Rose?’
‘I’m not gay,’ said Rizz. ‘I love women!’
‘Then you’re wasting your time at Rose, mate,’ said Stu. Anger radiated off him, poisoning the air. He was glaring at Rizz as if he wanted to kill him.
Kit sighed. ‘Stu, how about you just chill? Or are you after an action replay, mate?’ His drawl morphed into an Aussie accent, surely calculated to tip Stu over the edge.
Oh god, Kit actually wants a fight.
‘That’s enough!’ said Eliza. ‘Stu, could you please leave? We’re trying to work.’
‘That why you didn’t invite me, Mac?’ said Stu, looming over her. ‘Because you’re working?’ His gaze moved to Rizz. ‘Yeah, right.’
Kit stood up and squeezed past Mac and Rizz. He was a little taller than Stu, and a lot steadier on his feet. ‘Time to piss off, Stu.’
Stu snapped, launching a fist wildly at Kit’s head. The blow caught him in the eye.
‘Kit!’ cried Eliza.
Stu turned and headed for the door; Eliza grabbed Kit’s arm to stop him following.
‘Eliza, how is that Harry’s son?’ said Kit, sitting down, touching his eye.
‘What?’ said Rizz, looking shaken.
‘Oops,’ said Will.
Eliza frowned at Kit. ‘Keep that to yourself, Rizz.’
‘I think I go home now, if you no mind?’ said Rizz.
‘I’ll get you an Uber,’ said Eliza.
‘Is fine,’ said Rizz. ‘I take tube.’
‘No, it’s the least I can do. What’s your address?’
‘Grazie. Very kind.’ He typed it into her app.
‘There you go; three minutes away,’ said Eliza. ‘Rizz, I’m so sorry about all that. And please – keep what you heard to yourself.’
‘I feel bad for Mac. She is beautiful person. She try so hard to help him and he treat her terribilmente.’ He gazed at Mac for a moment, then picked up his jacket. ‘Arrivederci, my friends.’
‘Bloody Stu,’ said Eliza, as he left. ‘What are you going to do about him, Mac?’
‘Like I said, there’s a plan.’
Eliza’s phone beeped.
Eliza, your Uber is arriving soon.
‘Shall we get back to the script?’ she said.
‘Or we could just get pissed,’ said Will.
‘Tequilas?’ said Kit, his bruise now turning livid.
‘I’m not in the mood,’ said Eliza. Stu’s venomous attack had left a horrible taste in her mouth that not even tequila would shift. If he hadn’t been her half-brother, would it have been so foul? Was it because Harry was partly responsible for this bitter, damaged man?
Her phone beeped again, and a notification flashed up:
Where are you waiting? I am on Borough High Street.
‘I think I might just go home,’ she said. ‘I want to FaceTime Rob.’ After the evening’s unpleasant turn, she longed to see his smile.
‘Tequila’s good for me,’ said Will. ‘I’ll get them in.’
‘Me too,’ said Mac. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’
But Kit was staring at Eliza, and her heart missed a beat as she registered his expression.
Her phone beeped again.
Do you still want your Uber? Pls respond. Will wait 5 mins.
‘Shit!’ she said. ‘Rizz hasn’t met his Uber.’
Kit shot up and rushed for the door, followed by Eliza.
They exited the pub into the alleyway leading to the high street. A group of people had gathered, looking down at the ground.
Kit pushed his way through.
Rizz was lying face-up, unconscious. Blood was oozing from beneath his head, trickling along the gaps between the cobblestones.
Eliza’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Has someone called an ambulance?’ she said, frantically.
‘On its way,’ said a man filming on his phone.
Eliza and Kit crouched down beside Rizz. Eliza couldn’t properly comprehend what she was seeing. This can’t be happening.
‘Don’t touch him, love,’ said the man with the phone. ‘Mustn’t tamper with a crime scene.’
Eliza ignored him. ‘Rizz?’ she said desperately, touching his face.
There was no response.
The wail of a siren announced the ambulance’s arrival, and two paramedics came running along the alleyway.
Kit stood up, pulling Eliza to him.
She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Please, not Rizz,’ she said into his chest. ‘Fate wouldn’t be so cruel.’
Kit gave a bitter laugh. ‘You have no idea. Fate loves to fuck with us; haven’t you noticed?’
‘Don’t, Kit,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t.’
‘It was a king hit,’ said the man with the phone, nodding at Rizz. ‘I saw it. Down with one blow. Then he smashed his head on the kerb.’ He lifted his phone to get a better angle.
Kit let go of Eliza and snatched the phone. He threw it on the ground and stamped on it, grinding his heel into the screen.
‘Oi! What the f—?’
Eliza picked up the smashed phone and handed it back. ‘Maybe show some respect.’
‘Hey, you’re that Harry Rose’s girl.’
She looked at Rizz, still being worked on where he’d fallen. His sweet face was peaceful, as if he were asleep.
A sob escaped her, and Kit pulled her close again.
‘I shouldn’t have wound Stu up,’ he said. ‘I should have seen this. It’s my fault.’
‘He was already wound up. He’s like a bomb, triggered by drink. He really hates me. Maybe I’m responsible too. I should’ve tried harder.’
Two police officers arrived and started asking questions.
The paramedics finally lifted Rizz onto a stretcher.
‘Was he with you?’ one asked Eliza.
‘Yes, his name’s Angelo Rizzio.’
The medic shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Chapter 40
Harry
The police were unable to find Stu. He’d vanished, and after a few weeks, during which they alerted the authorities in Australia, the investigation was wound down.
A small item had appeared in the press, with a photo of Stu, asking for information. The media didn’t spot the link between Stu and Harry, and as he sat in his home office, Harry offered up a prayer of gratitude to the gods of lazy journalism.
‘Thanks, Ramona,’ he said to the housekeeper as she set down a coffee on his desk. ‘Is it decaf?’
‘Sí, it is, Harry.’
‘Thanks for remembering.’ He gave her a smile, and she blushed.
Clare had suggested the switch, although really, what was the point of coffee without caffeine? One small addiction wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
But, he acknowledged, it was advisable to do as Clare said. Her ‘lifestyle changes’ always made sense, even as they whittled away at the ‘pleasure’ part of his existence. He’d been suffering nasty headaches, and the elimination of caffeine was probably a good idea.
He pondered on his older son as he sipped his stimulant-free beverage. Where did Stu’s anger come from?
Harry’s lasting memory of Bennie was of her sense of fun. The sassy London girl with her wide grin and mocking blue eyes had been the perfect antidote to his difficult home life with Katie.
Until she got pregnant, and then real life had barged in and she’d left London, wanting to be better than a barmaid in a bedsit, for the sake of her child.
Not long after, she’d met Gilbert Blunt, who’d asked Harry to stay away from little Henry. And, a few years later, off she’d gone to another new life, in Australia.
Somewhere along the way Henry had become Stu and had befriended alcohol. As a consequence he was difficult to like, but Harry did empathise. He knew how that felt, to medicate yourself against pain. In his own case, that ache had started as physical and progressed into something more. He’d managed to break free, thanks in no small part to Clare, but Stu had seemed hell bent on self-destruction.
He sighed. He’d been torn between wanting to help Stu, and washing his hands of him. Should he have tried harder?
Guilt, forever in the shadows, gave him a friendly wave.
Eliza
It was May Day, and once again Eliza was sitting in her office looking out over the Thames, thinking back to May Morning at Oxford. She couldn’t shake the melancholy. Rizz’s death; Rob’s absence; Stu’s disappearance.
There was a knock on her door, and Eliza’s heart sank as Pippa showed in two police officers. Had they found Stu?
‘We’re here in connection with Henry Blunt,’ said the female officer.
‘How can I help?’
‘We understand from Mackenzie James that you’re his half-sister, and you were witness to events leading up to the death of Angelo Rizzio?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘We’re sorry to inform you that Mr Blunt died in a house fire in Churchfields last night, in the lodgings he was staying in.’
‘What? Stu’s dead?’
A cloud crept across Eliza’s soul. Her half-brother’s unhappy life, over already. More guilt piling onto Harry’s load.
‘The fire investigation team’s on site. Their preliminary findings indicate arson. Ms Rose, in light of Mr Rizzio’s murder, we’re asking his acquaintances if they know if Mr Blunt had any enemies – in particular anyone who might have wanted to avenge Mr Rizzio’s death. Would you have any thoughts on that?’
Enemies. She pictured Hamish Earle’s hooded eyes.
‘I didn’t know Mr Blunt well. He only came over from Australia last year, and I’ve seen him less than half a dozen times. But from what I hear, he was often getting into fights. Mackenzie would know a lot more than me.’
‘Yes, she’s been most helpful.’ The police officer looked at her partner. ‘Very well, thank you for your time. If anything comes to mind, please get in touch.’
The investigation concluded that the fire had been started deliberately, but the case remained unsolved.
This time, however, the fact that the deceased was the son of Harry Rose was picked up and splashed all over the press.
The mood at RoseGold was subdued. What staff needed was a good cheer up, and Eliza was confident tonight’s British Academy TV awards would do the trick. Most Human of Saints was nominated in three categories: Best Drama Series, Best Actor and Best ‘Must-See’ Moment, for Anne Boleyn’s beheading.
The ratings for the series had been solid, if slightly lower than hoped. Rob, who’d flown home for the ceremony, was suggesting it was too literary, too highbrow, and that their next production should be more commercially focused. But all the pundits were predicting success tonight, with RoseGold tipped to be the big winner.
Eliza read through her acceptance speech as her hairdresser wrestled with her curls. Will had edited it for her, and now it was worthy of its own BAFTA.
So many people to thank. Final paragraph: Dad – I don’t have the words . . . Every time she read it, she teared up. Would she make it through tonight without breaking down?
Dressed in figure-hugging scarlet taffeta, Eliza was blinded by flashes as she walked the red carpet outside the Royal Festival Hall, one arm linked through Rob’s and the other through Harry’s. Both men were dapper in black tie.
Will and Clare followed behind them; Kit had gone AWOL.
Thankfully the reporters on the red carpet had so far been sensible enough not to mention Stu’s death.
Eliza spotted Mac up ahead, and realized she was with Hamish.
‘Dad, look,’ she said, nodding in her cousin’s direction.
‘Earle,’ said Harry. ‘That’s unfortunate.’
A reporter with BBC on her microphone hurried over. ‘Harry, you must be very proud of your daughter tonight.’
‘Unspeakably, Jo,’ said Harry, giving her a wide smile. ‘She has a gift for spotting and nurturing talent and then setting it loose on the world.’ He looked over at Will. ‘Most Human is a masterpiece.’
‘Eliza,’ said Jo, as Eliza made a mental note to memorise media correspondents’ names. ‘This drama is hot favourite for three BAFTAs. Not bad for your debut series.’
‘Will Bardington and Kit Marley are the geniuses beh
ind the script,’ she said, waving Will forward. ‘And without our producer, Rob Studley, this would never have got off the ground.’
Once inside, Eliza took Will off to one side. ‘Where’s Kit?’
His smile disappeared. ‘He decided all awards ceremonies are bollocks and he’d give it a miss. God, he can be difficult.’
Eliza was stung. ‘But, Will, it’s our big night. Yours, his and mine. How can he do this to us? All these years, ever since our first term at Oxford – it’s all been leading up to this.’
Will shook his head. ‘Eliza, darling. Have you learned nothing in all this time? Kit doesn’t give a fuck.’
As they filed into the auditorium and settled into their seats, Eliza attempted to shrug off the hurt. She wouldn’t let it spoil the night. RoseGold’s night, her night.
Most Human missed out on best leading actor, but Eliza wasn’t surprised. The competition was stellar.
As the nominations for Best Drama were read out, Harry whispered, ‘Don’t forget to thank your father.’
Aware of the cameras trained on her, Eliza composed her features into a serene smile.
‘And the BAFTA goes to . . . ’
She hitched her taffeta up a little, aware that the tight dress might prove a challenge.
‘ . . . Kitchen Sink!’
Eliza’s mouth dropped open.
‘Smile,’ hissed Harry. ‘Clap.’
She pulled herself together, fixed her smile back in place.
The Kitchen Sink team hurried to the stage; many in the audience leaped to their feet.
‘Ridiculous choice,’ said Harry, even as he clapped and smiled.
‘Chav TV,’ muttered Rob, grinning widely.
Eliza was shocked to the core, and crying inside. Her team had gone above and beyond, believing in this series as she had, living and breathing it. Pouring in their hearts and souls, working all hours, rewriting, reshooting, re-editing; perfectionists, the lot of them. It was far and away the best of the nominees. She was gutted for them. This was so unfair, so wrong!
The ceremony drew to a close, and Eliza brooded darkly on their failure to win any awards – not even Best Must-See Moment – as everyone began leaving the auditorium.
Sister to Sister Page 30
