Stitch-Up

by Sophie Hamilton

  But even as I spoke, seeing the two women standing side by side, my parents’ game became clear. Both mothers were styled in the same way. This meant they could construct a totally different scene in the edit. All it would take was a few clever cutaways, some creative editing and some extra filming with Tamara, and then, abracadabra! One similarly styled mother would morph into the other. The black suit, the white collar, distinctive T-bar shoes and the crucifixes: all these identical elements could be intercut and spliced together, allowing the conjuring trick to take place.

  “Think about it, Dasha. I will become Maxine in the edit.” Tamara clicked her fingers. “Simple as that. We are filming a Gold reunion. We came here to create our version of events.”

  “As usual,” I snapped, and then, turning back to Maxine, I asked, “So was everything staged?” Even as I asked, the memory of her pressing her earlobe flashed into my head.

  Maxine refused to look me in the eye, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  “Time to tell Dasha the truth, Maxine.” My father moved closer, invading her space. She looked up at him pleadingly. Still she didn’t speak.

  Tamara filled the silence, relishing the opportunity to explain the tacky truth. “We needed certain shots, you know, something that visually said ‘happy ever after’ as well as a few key phrases and pick-ups so it would work in the edit. We almost captured the whole scene with the first hug, but you freaked out before we got the complete script in the bag.”

  “So you turned the most important moment of my life into a soap opera. Fabulous.” I glared at my so-called parents. “No wonder I’m on the run.”

  Then I turned my sights on Maxine. “Why did you agree to go along with them?”

  “Why did you play the game, Maxine? Your daughter wants to know,” Dad needled, as he and Tamara moved towards her in a pincer movement. Maxine retreated, pressing against the wall in a star shape, as if pinned to it by their stares. She reminded me of a beautiful butterfly on display in a speciman cabinet. When she didn’t speak, Dad replied on her behalf.

  “Money, of course, and, like a true professional, Maxine delivered.”

  My mouth dropped open. “No way.” For a few seconds, I was lost for words. Shell-shocked. When I continued, my tone was sharp. “For money?” Anger was bubbling up inside me like a toxic gas. My hands clenched and unclenched, but my fury kept escalating, and then, boom, I exploded. “Abandoning me – or should I say selling me –as a baby was rubbish. But not half as rubbish as playing the loving mother, while hamming it up for the cameras, so you’d get another big fat pay-off.” Tears were streaming down my face. I wiped them away angrily. “’Sakes, you’re as bad as them. What about all that stuff you spouted? About how you loved being pregnant with me. How it was the happiest time of your life. The most magical eight months.” I sniffed back sobs. “Was that all fake?”

  “Padding,” Tamara chipped in, her smile wide and vacant as a ballroom dancer’s. “We told Maxine to get emotional. We needed her to soften you up, win you round. We needed to film a second hug with the line about Dad and the police. The money shot.”

  “What did they pay you?”

  Maxine wouldn’t meet my gaze. She wiped away a tear.

  “Half a million pounds, a makeover and a duplex in Dubai,” Tamara replied on Maxine’s behalf, only too happy to fill me in.

  “Is that what I’m worth to you?” My voice was tight. “Tell me, Mum.”

  Her face crumpled.

  Dad towered over her. “Go on, Maxine.” He moved closer, casting a shadow across her face. “Tell her.” She cowered away, as if he’d raised his hand to hit her.

  “You’re a Gold. You’re worth billions.” Maxine’s voice was little more than a whisper. “I gave you up for adoption so you could have a better chance in life. Most kids would do anything to be a celebrity. To be you. Don’t throw it all away. For what? To be anonymous. It is worse than a death sentence. Believe me.”

  “What Maxine is trying to say is that you’re an ungrateful little wretch,” Dad said, taking control again.

  “Shut up!” I snapped. “Get your nose out of my life, Dad. I want to hear what Maxine has to say. Not you.” I focused on Maxine, eyes drilling into her. Unlike my parents, her face gave away her emotions. She looked defeated. “I still don’t get it. Why would you take their money? Why would you betray your own daughter?”

  Maxine stumbled on. “Your parents have given you an amazing life. They want you back. Take it from me – you wouldn’t want to be in my life. My luck ran out. I’m at the end of the line, broke and broken. You must make the most of your good luck.” Her words sounded scripted; there was something hollow about her delivery.

  “Good luck?” I scrunched up my face sceptically. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes.” She shifted uneasily, still trapped in Dad’s stare.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I shook my head miserably.

  “I’m sorry, Dasha.” Maxine was shrinking into herself, her body language was becoming more and more closed. “I’m going to make the most of this opportunity. You should go back to the Golds and make the most of yours. Please try and understand. This is what I want now.” I still had the feeling she was speaking lines.

  “It seems you keep on showing up at the wrong time in her life, Dash.” Dad was enjoying himself. “Isn’t that right, Maxine?”

  “Dasha, please. It’s too late to fix things.” Maxine’s words were small and broken, the sound of a snail’s shell crushed underfoot. She had no power to stand up to my dad. The trouble was nobody did.

  I stared at the floorboards. Maxine was as rubbish as everyone else in my life, apart from Latif. I toed one of the plastic bottles lying at my feet, tears rolling down my cheeks. A skull and crossbones, which was printed on the label, rocked back and forth. I felt like it was hexing me.

  A thought flashed in the fug of my sadness. “Why did you turn up at my parents’ house, if you didn’t want to see me again?” I asked, lifting my gaze.

  Her eyes flicked up to my father. Irritation slid across his smooth face. My stomach tightened.

  “Blackmail. What else?” he said quickly. “We paid her off and sent her packing.”

  I remembered the police cars outside our house.

  “You’re lying, Dad. I overheard you and Mum talking. You didn’t give her money. The police handled it.”

  “She was demanding money, Dash.” He cracked his knuckles.

  “Is that the truth?” I asked Maxine urgently. “I know he’s lying. This is your chance to make things right, Mum. I don’t care about the rest – the money, the adoption, tonight – just tell me what happened that night in Dad’s study.” The Golds were crowding her out. “Please do this one thing for me, Mum.” I was shouting. “Stand up to them.”

  Maxine stood frozen to the spot for a second or two, and then, using the wall to pull herself up to her full height, she started talking in a rush. “I love you, Dasha. It’s never been about the money. I promise.” There was grit in her voice now. “That night in his study, Mr Gold said there would be terrible consequences if I broke our contract. He said they would take Lily away. Put her in a foster home. That I would go to jail for being an imposter.”

  My father was shouting for backup.

  Maxine raised her voice. “I promise it wasn’t about the money. I came to the house because I wanted to see you. Say sorry. Nothing can change that. I played their game because I had no choice. Everything I said about being pregnant with you, about Zac, about our love for you was true. I wasn’t faking, I promise. I love you.”

  I ran over to my mother and flung my arms around her as the man who I’d initially thought was my stepfather stormed into the room.

  “They forced me. Blackmai—” The goon’s hand was over her mouth. My father’s hands gripped my shoulders and he was pulling me back. I kept hold of my mother’s hand until they wrenched us apart. “No, Mum!” I screamed as the heavy marched her towards the door.
She shouted something, but his huge hand smothered her words. It sounded like “I love you,” again but I couldn’t be sure.

  Next moment, Maxine was gone.

  My heart was constricting. I imagined it brown and shrivelled, walnut-sized. I couldn’t look at the Golds. Those vampires had sucked me dry. I hated them.

  “Quite the drama, eh?” Dad said, with a smile. “You should have stuck with us, precious.”

  “You blackmailed her. That’s the pits,” I whispered, all punched out.

  “Maxine was merely saying what she knew you wanted to hear to ease her money-grabbing conscience. Believe what you want, but she made it very clear to us that she doesn’t want you in her life.”

  “But you do?” I looked daggers. “Lucky me!”

  “So?” Tamara asked pointedly.

  “So, what?” I balled my fists, scanning the room for an escape route. The TV crew was in the conservatory. The slaphead was guarding the door. The windows were shuttered. There wasn’t a hope in hell of making a break for it.

  “What’s this about, Dash? Why are you so angry with us?” Tamara asked. “Is it because we didn’t tell you that you were adopted? Is that why you ran away?” She was looking at me as if she actually cared. “Darling, we were trying to do the best for you, I promise. We took advice from experts. We were going to tell you everything when you were eighteen. That’s normal procedure.” Tamara had slipped into her smooth, brisk chat-show voice.

  “Normal procedure? You screened my DNA and you bought me like a must-have accessory. Then you trademarked my name. That’s not normal.” My gestures were getting stabby. “It’s not just the adoption. It’s everything. Finding out about my mother is only part of it. I’d had my doubts ever since I realised the extent of the procedures, and then, when I realised you were going to force me to have surgery even though you knew I was dead set against it, that’s when I wanted out big time. Why would you want to change me, anyway? How do you think that makes me feel? Beautiful? Loved? No, I feel like trash. A disappointment. A loser. I don’t understand why you can’t you love me for who I am.”

  “Of course we love you…”

  “Yeah. Right,” I snapped. “Why would you want to change me if you loved me? Parents are meant to love their children. Whatever. The fact you don’t breaks my heart.”

  The room was spinning now. I put my head in my hands. I didn’t want them to see how upset I was.

  “Come on, Dash. We love you very much. We’d do anything for you.” Tamara’s tone was conciliatory. She came over and, crouching down beside me, took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Dad is going to turn you into a superstar. On your birthday we’ll launch you as the face of the brand. Next stop – global fame. Every girl’s dream. After you’ve had the procedures your life will be super-fabulous, I promise. Every girl at the Star Academy would kill to be in your shoes.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t want to be the face of the brand! I don’t want to be famous or a superstar. I just want you to love me for who I am. But you’re not capable of doing that because you only care about the freaking brand.” My hand gestures were getting wild. “You’re both screwy. Your world is twisted. Everything you value is wrong.” I clasped my hands to stop them windmilling. “That’s why I want to get out of the celebrity bubble.”

  “To live like a civilian?” Dad exchanged an amused look with Tamara. “How very noble.”

  “Yeah, right. Make a joke of it. As usual.” I wanted to smash their smug heads together.

  “We only want to do what’s best for you,” Dad said.

  “Tough! Because I’m going to do my own thing. Find my own way without you dictating everything. I’m sick of having my life run by a couple of control freaks.”

  “All teenagers resent their parents at some point.” Tamara was in TV mode again, sympathetic and reasonable. “Think they know best. It’s a phase you have to go through. But in ten years’ time, you’ll look back and thank us, I promise.”

  “It’s not a phase. It’s what I believe. Hanging out with Latif has helped me see things more clearly. He’s a million times better than you and your lies. He thinks you’re fakes. That your world is shallow. False.” I spoke slowly and calmly, ramming each point home.

  “Of course,” Dad said patiently. “That must be why lover boy accepted our bribes and agreed to help us. That’s why he brought you here. You were too shallow for his tastes.” His words were like a blow to the head. “One phone call. Total time to change his mind: five minutes.”

  “What?”

  A terrifying emptiness engulfed me.

  “You heard.”

  “No way.” Words tumbled out in a panic. “Latif wouldn’t do that. He’s not a sell-out. I don’t believe you. He’s just not like that.” Despite my forthright words, doubt nagged at the back of my mind.

  “Is that so?” He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

  “I know you’re lying,” I whispered, clutching at my throat. I could barely breathe.

  “Everyone has a price, Dash,” Dad said. “I thought you’d know that by now.”

  “He wouldn’t hand me in for money,” I whispered. “It’s not his style.”

  “Why are we here if he didn’t tip us off? Think about it.” His tone was triumphant. “I said we figured it out, but in fact, we were told”

  A long pause while I tried to work things out. But my brain had logged out.

  Sensing victory, Tamara said, “Dasha, wake up. He betrayed you, darling.”

  I collapsed down onto the sofa. My world was broken. Maxine’s rejection had been hard enough to take, but Latif’s as well? That was too much. To think I’d believed that Latif was the one person in my life who didn’t have a price tag. A tear trickled down my cheek. He’d seemed so completely genuine. But now I realised that he was the biggest fake of them all.

  “Is that really true?” I whispered. “Please, for once, I want the truth.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wondered why I’d bothered.

  “People let you down, baby. That’s life.”

  What a cow, I thought, eyes smarting. She might as well have gouged her three-inch heels into my eye sockets – it would have been less painful.

  But something niggled. Something didn’t ring true. For starters, how could Latif have tipped them off? I’d been with him twenty-four/seven, more or less.

  “So what was his price?” I asked dubiously. “The million-pound reward?”

  “He didn’t do it for the money. Come on, Dash, surely you know him better than that. He had a far more honourable demand.” Dad paused for effect. “Latif’s price? His parents’ freedom.”

  I took a sharp breath in, remembering Latif’s anguished expression as he’d watched the police arresting his parents on the television. That was when everything fell into place. Latif must have called my parents from the motel bedroom when I was in the bathroom.

  Dad wasn’t bluffing.

  I slumped further back into the sofa. My world tilted. I felt as if I were falling into a dark, dark place from which there would be no escape.

  A place without hope.

  “Where’s Latif now?” I whispered, blinking back tears.

  “At present jihad-boy is helping the police with their enquiries. He’ll be facing charges of kidnap and terrorism, looking at years behind bars.” He flicked a speck of fluff from his suit with manicured fingernails. “But all is not lost for my favourite hood-rat. Luckily I have the ear of the prime minister, so I am in a position to broker a deal.”

  “But I thought the deal was delivering me in return for his parents’ freedom.”

  “Well, that’s the impression we gave Latif. But you know how things change. The truth of the matter is that his freedom is in your hands…” His smile glittered with malice. “His future rests with you, Dash.”

  I felt sick with guilt. I couldn’t blame Latif for betraying me. After all, it was thanks to me that his parents had been arrested in the first place
. And now he was in prison, too. I pictured him sitting alone in his cell in regulation prison duds.

  “So you double-crossed him?”

  “Of course. But you can make things right.”

  “What do you want?” I spoke robotically. “A happy ending? The Golds reunited?”

  “You’ve got the picture, princess.”

  My gaze shifted to the crew. They were setting up angles for the shots. “So what’s ‘the story’?” I made speech marks with my fingers as I sneered the words.

  “Look around you. What do you see?” Tamara asked.

  “A dump. Two power-crazy psychos.”

  “Try harder, Dasha.” Dad swept his hand around the room, drawing my attention to the bottles and wires. “A bomb factory. Your prison. Latif’s lair. We’ve filmed most of the story already. We’ve got shots of you holed-up in here, banging on the door and shouting for help. Then there’s your rescue and the emotional reunion with your mother – Tamara. It’s not going to win any awards, but with careful editing we can transmit it, if necessary.” He rubbed his palms together. “Now that’s a cracking story, don’t you think?”

  “So why shoot another?”

  “We want a slicker version. The real thing. Emotional truth.”

  “But it’ll be acted out.”

  “Exactly. Cinéma-vérite.”

  “So if I do it, you’ll let him go?”

  “You have my word.” He said it with about as much conviction as a shop assistant saying, “Have a nice day!”

  “For what it’s worth.” I picked up a length of wire from the sofa – part of Latif’s supposed bomb paraphernalia – and twisted it around my fingers. “Happy endings, huh?” I whispered, staring into Dad’s highly polished shoes; my face, reflected twice over, was long and gloomy, like a reluctant guest viewed through a spy-hole. “So you promise that Latif can go back to his old life?”

  “Not exactly. He’ll be tried. Found guilty. Sentenced to years in prison.”

  “What?” I raised my eyes slowly and fixed him with a ferocious stare. “What sort of deal is that?”

  “The public wants to see justice done. Good triumph over evil…”