“He wouldn't,” Hazel interrupted; her voice tinged with anger. “You can't say those things about him. He's my husband.”
“You are my sister! I was there when you were in a pool of blood, and I'm not letting some violent bully …”
“Will you stop bringing that up!” Hazel stood up, staring at Paige in the eyes. “That was years ago. Sure, I needed you then but I have a husband now.”
“Who's a nutter and needs help. You can't just think it will be OK because it won't be. Hazel wake up. Can't you see what's so obvious to everyone else.”
“Leave me alone. Leave us alone.”
“He keeps on getting arrested, Hazel. That's not normal.”
“Listen to it! You were always getting arrested, Paige. You couldn't do a gig without wondering if you were going to make it home.”
“Not for unprovoked assault,” Paige shouted. She put her hands on the top of Hazel's shoulders. “Listen, this can't continue. I'm worried about you.”
“I'm fine,” she squealed and pushed her sister's arms away. “I don't need your help or your worry. Just leave me alone. Leave us alone.”
She pursed her lips together, clamping them closed as they started to wobble. She turned away from her sister, shielding her teary eyes from Paige.
And then she ran. Not stopping to say goodbye. Not stopping at the front door, but out into the wintery evening and down Paige's drive, gasping for air and putting as much distance from the world that she could.
After a mile she flagged at a taxi, depositing a glut of party girls at a local bar. He didn't say anything if he recognised her, and she just barked her address at him, sitting on the back seat and morosely looking out of the window as South London flashed past her eyes.
She could see the blue flashing lights reflected out of the street long before the taxi reached her property. Her moist eyes had dried, but redness and puffiness had replaced the dampness and she sank into the seat, fumbling in her handbag for the fare.
The banknotes dropped onto the front passenger seat. The driver scooped the money into his hands, turning into the small cul-de-sac and then coming to a direct halt.
Cars lined the narrow street, including two Police cars, and dozens of photographers, packed like sardines onto the pavement. Each of them anxious to get a picture of The Tempest after the public statements and rumours of his misbehaviour had flooded into newsrooms around the country.
Hazel stirred and quietly slipped out of the pale yellow saloon and into the shadows. Hidden by her neighbours cars, she walked slowly across the pavement, anonymous and unseen as the Police barked into radios.
The neighbourhood had never seen so much activity, and never seen so much chaos before; it was a quiet street that was popular with reserved individuals. Even the German bombers during the war failed to make a trip to the affluent houses of Bucklow Court.
The throng of paparazzi blocked the entrance to her gated community: only ten exclusive apartments, along with a private gym and car park, resided on the other side of the wrought iron gates. She could not enter via their back entrance, as she did not have the key with her.
Instead, she took and deep breath and stepped out of the shadows, striding across the road and reaching the gates. It took a few moments for the press pack to realise who she was, but the questions started immediately.
“Where is Ricky?”
“Has Ricky been charged with assault?”
“Have you split up with Ricky?”
“Is it true that he violently assaulted a barman?”
The peppering of short, sharp stabs of enquiry smacked her harder than any of Ricky's fists. Her lips moved but her voice stammered. It was intense, an overwhelming experience as they assaulted her senses and fired constant words at her.
They jumbled. Merged into a long stream of unintelligible noises that weaved into a breathless disorienting cacophony.
And she was an agent. Training to be a master of PR. Needing to be calm under pressure she now felt flustered now she was centre stage.
Her hands fumbled with the keys and she cursed herself for lacking the foresight to prepare when she had anonymity in the shadows.
The gate creaked open and she tumbled into the car park as the cameras flashed away and illuminated their small private parking area. Ricky's expensive limousine was still at the hotel.
Their apartment was dark and cold; she sank into the cool covers of her duvet before reading the dozens of messages on her phone. She answered them all, except the one from her sister.
Chapter LXXIV
Paige
It took Hazel twelve hours before she answered the phone to Paige. The younger sister berated her sibling for her words again, and Paige offered a muted and insincere apology.
She had already arranged to probe deeper into Ricky's affairs and with Claire's help, managed to get an invitation to the lax prison forty miles away.
She never told Jack and Claire couldn't face seeing Emit again, so Paige travelled alone. The prison was cold and foreboding; it dominated the small village and a dozen women all drearily trudged from the bus stop towards the unwelcoming building to visit their incarcerated partners.
The female guard searched her thoroughly; Paige joked that if they “wanted to do a strip search, she'd be happy to leave her clothes behind.” It was lost on the stern and unfriendly woman, and on reflection Paige thought that a naked lady in with hundreds of cooped up men was probably a bad idea.
Emit smiled as he sat down opposite the world-famous musician. She said nothing and just stared at him for a moment, waiting for his smile to drop. “I suppose you want an explanation?”
Paige nodded. “Yeah. But then I got some questions.”
He took a deep breath. “I really regret it. Claire's awesome. I didn't think she'd like me, really, but we got on so well. And when she left hospital, she never called or answered her phone, I just thought I was dumped. So I told a couple of mates my story and one of them stole my files to pay off his debts. I didn’t know it was happenin’. And …”
“As the judge said, you're a malicious and conniving coward.”
He nodded. “Yeah, completely. And I'm sorry to you too, for hackin’ your accounts. I just loved you guys. Everything seemed real with you. I was in love with the Bare Necessities. And Claire.”
“So why release the files?”
“I wanted to the world to see how fantastic you were. I only released the pictures of you enjoying yourself and being normal. And I wanted to show the world what an arse Ricky was.”
She glanced towards the gruff security guard and sat back in her chair, tapping the table between them. “You see, on that subject, I think you have some information for me. I think you can help me. And in return, I will help you. Because you released those photos of me, by hacking into my account, I can sue for damages. I've been speaking to my lawyer,” she lied. “And she recommends that I do.” Emit's eyes dropped to the table where Paige's hands were clasped together.
“I … I have no money.”
“Yeah, I know. You think have no money now. Just wait what happens when a law firm gets their teeth into you.”
“What do you want?”
“Ricky,” she said breathlessly. “You hacked into his phone. You saw the e-mails and the pictures and the videos and all what he does. Tell me.”
“Well … I'm not sure,” he flustered. “This would be a breach of …”
Paige screwed her hands into fists and glared at the weak man. “Tell me. I need to know.”
“If you two are having a chart war then releasing private information about him is …”
Paige snorted. “Do you read the papers? Did you know he went psycho at a hotel and caused a hundred grand of damage. And this little psycho is married to my little sister. And I want to find out what he's like. So tell me.” He hesitated. “You used to be in awe of me, what changed?”
“I met you,” he countered. “And this place. The papers say prison is easy b
ut it isn’t. It’s Hell. It scares me every day. I can’t wait ‘til I get out.”
Paige shrugged. “If you can’t do the time …”
“Yeah I know,” Emit interrupted. “I know. It’s a fair punishment. I fucked up and this is retribution. So if I tell you what you need to know, will you promise to not sue me.”
“Of course.”
“And I need it in writing.”
“Aren’t you very untrusting!” Paige snapped. “OK, I will even post you a letter saying I won’t take legal action. Now, what do you know?”
Emit sat back in his chair. “He's a bully. He's having dozens of affairs as he has something on his phone to sync his phone data to his Google Drive so I got all of his data. He sends emails and messages to his former band mates bragging of his conquests and he often includes pictures or videos. I only posted a handful when I uploaded them.”
“A handful?”
He nodded and sighed. “Wasn’t it obvious? I never posted any of Hazel. You know Hazel has a tiny birthmark on her buttock and a faded scar at the top of her left leg?”
Paige nodded. “Yeah. The scar was when she was thrown off her bike at the BMX track when she was ten. Justice was done on that score. Martin Robertson has a much more prominent scar.” Emit’s eyes widened. “No-one gets to hurt my family and gets away with it.”
“Did you not examine those girls in those photos? You know, the ones he was with. He always cropped the face and often the bodies before sending them, but there was no Hazel distinguishing marks. Those were the proof of the affairs.”
Paige spluttered. “I never looked that closely at the pictures. Why would I?”
“You wouldn’t?” Emit asked incredulously. “And his emails between his law firm and him are the most interesting. They stretched back years and the amount of times he has had to pay out damages to hotel companies for trashing their rooms is just ridiculous. After most gigs I reckon. One of his exes – the Miss Wiltshire or whoever …”
“I know who you mean,” Paige said icily.
“The one with the lovely … smile. She wrote him a long email after they split up and it was full of hatred. She accused him of emotional abuse, physical abuse, endless affairs and theft. He replied telling her she was a frigid cunt who used his fame for her benefit. She accused him of rape and he wrote back and admitted it. And he said that as his girlfriend she can’t say no to him.”
Paige's mouth felt dry and she rubbed her face as she processed what Emit had told her. “This is not good, Emit.”
“No. He's a complete fuck-up. Needs help if you ask me.”
“Shit,” Paige muttered. “OK. Thanks Emit. Although I can't prove any of this, can I? I mean, I can approach the Police but they ain't gonna let me see his files, are they? I wonder if …”
“No,” Emit said slowly and gulped, glancing around the busy visiting room. He lowered his voice. “Paige, if I could give you the proof you needed, what would that be worth?”
Paige's gaze bored into his expression. “Will I end up in here with you?”
Emit's lips broke into a smile. “In a male-only prison? I doubt it. And no. I've committed the offence which is why I'm here, I stored some important files and emails I liberated from everyone, and well as a couple I took and sent myself. I can get you a copy of these and it has the information you need.”
“OK.”
“What's it worth? They are files I shouldn't have. You shouldn't have. What's it worth?”
Paige gulped. “What do you want?”
“A new beast. The cops took my old one and I get out in eight weeks. I want a new beast?”
“A new beast?” Paige asked, confused.
“PC. Computer. Rig.” His eyes lit up, excited. “AMD have octa-core technology out and so I'm thinking a 32 gig of RAM with a 500 gig SSD and …”
His voice trailed off as Paige shrugged. “OK. I'll give you fifteen hundred pounds towards a new computer. If I can have the proof what Ricky's been up to.”
“It'll take me a week to sort. Barry should be in. You need to go and see him and then go to my mum's house. You need to go the top step of the stairs, peel back the carpet and take out the loose floorboard. Underneath there, is a power socket, a Raspberry Pi, a powerline adapter and an external hard drive. Barry will need to mount the external hard drive on his laptop and copy the 16 gig encrypted file container to a USB stick for you. Then give the money to my mum and write to me from your business address. When mum has said she has received the money, I'll write back with the password. It will be obvious. Get Barry to show you how to mount an encrypted file container on a laptop.”
“I don't have a laptop.”
“Yeah get one.” Emit said, excited. He glanced at the guard walking behind him.
“Barry lives at 17 Harcourt Mews. It's round the corner from Woodford station on the Central Line. Barry knows where Mum lives.”
“And Barry will be at home?” Paige asked, and Emit nodded.
“He came to see me last week and said he had all week off. He might not answer the door immediately as he'll be slayin' dragons. Unless he's ordered owt off Amazon. Wait. He will answer the door eventually.”
Their chatter was ended when the guards announced the end of the allotted visiting time. Paige shook Emit's hand. “Thanks. If it makes you feel better. I forgive you now.”
“Cool.”
“You'll still an arse. But one I can vaguely forgive. You did save Claire's life before your photos tried to wreck it.”
Paige travelled into the centre of London by bus, then train, before completing her journey on an Underground train. Her debit card allowed her to withdraw £2,000 from the cash machine and then she used her phone to navigate her to a run-down maisonette a few minutes walk from the station. Barry reminded her of when she first met Emit; unkempt and scruffy, and shy to her dominance.
He had had no warning of her arrival, and the sounds of hardcore pornography coming from the one bedroom studio made her feel uncomfortable.
But she needed his help as she hurriedly explained what Emit had told her. He didn't doubt her story; Paige, a confident woman was no match for his social ineptitude. He changed from his egg-stained pyjamas and introduced a comb to his scraggy-dog hair.
The route to Emit's home took them past a shopping centre and Paige bought her first brand-new laptop. Barry said nothing as she purchased the “prettiest” not the most technically capable device; he didn't have the confidence to challenge Paige on her decisions.
Emit's mother was surprised to see them, but gave them access to her house after Barry said “Emit needs me to grab something for him.” It was all the explanation that Barry needed to give.
Paige watched as Barry walked to the top of the stairs, lifted up the carpet and then moved a floorboard; a tupperware container, holding a gentle hum of electronics was lifted onto the carpet and Paige passed Barry the brand new laptop she had bought.
He said nothing as he plugged it into the landing wall socket. Paige left him to give the small bundle of banknotes to Emit's mum, watching television on a giant television that dominated the wall.
“Emit said that I need to give you this and you need to tell him that you have received it.” Her eyes widened, tearing her attention away from the daytime television programming.
“You'll not be getting him into any trouble, now. Are you? He's a good lad. A damn silly lad, but a good lad.”
“No. If anything, he's helping getting my sister out of trouble.” Paige replied, and returned to the landing.
Barry tapped away at the keys. “This is a shit laptop,” he moaned as his fingers pressed a key fob into the USB socket. Paige waited for ten minutes and he demonstrated the encryption programme to the singer. “I've booted into Kali to copy the file across.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. OK. See this icon here,” he said, pointing to a blue icon on the desktop. “Load that, then click Load Favourite Devices. It'll ask for the passphrase. When
Emit provides you with it, it'll show up unencrypted as the P Drive.”
“Thanks,” she murmured and passed him a couple of hundred pounds from her purse for his assistance. “OK. I gotta write to Emit.”
He smiled, tucking Emit's secret computer under the floorboards again as Paige left the property, not stopping until she got to the station, and rung her mother.
Chapter LXXV
Ricky
Ricky slouched in the leather chair, spinning it as the private investigator pulled a thick file from the drawer. “I can say we can conclude the investigation into the Simmons Family and we have some news for you.”
“Whatcha t’ose twats been upta?”
Roger tapped the table. “I see there is no money outstanding. OK, I have some information that will interest you greatly. Start with Paige Simmons. We actually had very little on her until two days ago. We got a tip-off that she was visiting the prison where Emit Roberts is being held. Emit is the gentleman who hacked your phone and was in a relationship with Claire Baynes, and she went to see him.”
“Fuckin’ cow.”
“We went up, took these pictures …” He passed Ricky photographs taken of Paige leaving the prison and walking towards the bus stop. “And then she went to North East London, withdrew £2,000 and went to Emit’s mother’s house – Pauline Roberts – with another gentleman. We’ve traced him as Barry Stephens. He was investigated as part of the investigation into your hacking but there was no evidence and it wasn’t pursued.”
“Is t’is some undergroun’ militia t’is Paige runs?”
“I couldn’t say. It just seems strange, especially with the money. We give you our file so obviously if you want to confront her you can.”
“Anyt’ing else?”
“Only that she has known links to the People Power Movement and we’ve seen her out with Leah Wahlqvist, who is the founder of that movement and a blogger on Protactor, which is a left-leaning anarchist website. They organised pickets against your private school and your father’s company as proof of ‘entrenched elitism.’ I don’t know if it’s relevant but …”
Bare Necessities 2 (The Bare Necessities) Page 31
