Pull yourself together, I tell myself sternly. Don’t think about this afternoon. Think about tonight instead.
I pad to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. While the eye puffiness has gone down a little, I still look pretty rough. It’s obvious I’ve spent the afternoon crying. I jump into the shower and scrub myself clean. I apply the concealer that Mum left for me, amazed at how well it works as I watch as the dark shadows dissolve into clear, fresh skin. I slick on some strawberry lip balm, pull on some clean jeans and a grey vest. OK, it’s not knock-your-socks-off gorgeous but it’s the best I can do today. And you know what? I really think Justin is after more than my body so I don’t think he’ll mind.
A short while later, I’m standing outside the front door to Justin’s flat. I’m still surprised that he lives in a suburban-looking townhouse. It’s not the kind of place I’d expect a group of rock ’n’ rollers to be living.
I lift up the brass knocker and let it drop a couple of times. I hope Justin’s flatmates aren’t about tonight. I’m trying my best to put a brave face on everything but I’m not sure I’m up for making small talk. No sunny personality and banter from me tonight. I’m not exactly giving birth to charisma in my current state.
The door opens and my spirits lift a little when I see Justin in a crisp white T-shirt and relaxed grey cargo pants. His hair looks damp from the shower. Before I can even say hi, he pulls me in for a long, deep kiss. His hands caress my back and I feel my shoulders start to relax.
‘Are your housemates in?’ I ask, reluctantly pulling away.
Justin shakes his head. ‘I told them I was cooking dinner for my girl. They know that means they have to disappear for a few hours.’
His girl? He just called me his girl! Despite my mood, my body fills with warmth.
Justin takes my hand and leads me through to the kitchen. A table is already laid, with a bottle of wine, a little bowl of olives and one of artichoke hearts.
My spirits lift even higher. ‘For me?’ I say, gesturing towards the table.
‘Always,’ he says. ‘Wine?’
‘God, yes!’ I answer. ‘It’s been . . . well, it’s been a day.’
‘What’s up?’ Justin hands me a glass of wine.
I hesitate, remembering Mum’s words that it’s his job to cheer me up. He’s clearly planned a romantic night and I think talking about Bex and our row might ruin the mood. Each time I start reliving it a fresh knot of anger and tears starts building up and I don’t want him seeing me like that. I’ll talk to him later, I decide. I don’t want to ruin this gorgeous moment. For now, I just want to forget what happened earlier and concentrate on Justin and the dinner he’s made me.
I shake my head. ‘Ah, it’s nothing. I’m fine. Just one of those days. I’ll be fine after this drink, honestly.’
Justin frowns and reaches for my hand. ‘You know you can talk to me, right? Tell me what’s going on.’
‘Maybe later?’ I say. ‘I just want to enjoy my wine for now. Is that OK?’
‘I guess,’ he mock-pouts. ‘But you might have to find something else to distract me in the meantime because all I’m thinking about right now is how long till I can rip your clothes off.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
Knocking back the rest of the wine I go over to Justin’s chair and sit on his lap. ‘Let’s start with that, then,’ I say, kissing his neck. ‘And then we’ll talk.’
He laughs and kisses my mouth. ‘Deal.’
Justin and I lie in his bed, catching our breath. That was amazing. For a couple of minutes I even managed to put Bex to the back of my mind. Justin turns onto his side, propped up on an elbow, and starts stroking the hair off my face.
‘Will you talk to me now?’ he asks.
I look at him. ‘Promise you won’t think I’m a crazy person if I start crying?’
He regards me in concern. ‘I won’t think you’re a crazy person but I am starting to get worried. What’s going on?’
I start to tell him everything that happened earlier in the day and as I start reliving it, I start crying again. I can’t stop the tears from coming and Justin just holds me while I try to get the words out.
‘The thing I can’t get my head round,’ I say sitting up and wiping my face with the back of my hand, ‘is how she found out. I just don’t understand it. The only people who knew about it were Mum, and she’s not likely to say anything, and Jay. And I know he’s got a big mouth but he’s loyal as a dog and we talked about it so he knew I wanted to tell Bex myself so I can’t see him going behind my back like that. Unless he didn’t mean to and it just slipped out. That would be like him but he still would’ve given me a heads up. Hey?’ I nudge Justin. ‘What’s up? You haven’t said anything for a while. Are you OK?’ I ask, panicked. He’s gone as white a sheet. ‘Say something!’ Oh God, my dramatic, soap-opera-style life has scared him off.
Justin abruptly gets out of bed and starts pulling his clothes on. He’s not meeting my eye.
‘Justin?’ I ask. ‘What’s wrong?’
Still he doesn’t say anything and I have a sinking feeling that I’m not going to like what comes next. He holds out my clothes to me and says, ‘You should get dressed.’
OK, then . . . I take my clothes from him and do as he says. What’s happening? I’m so confused that I start crying again. I can’t deal with this today. I sit back down on the bed, fully dressed and continue crying. Justin kneels in front of me and gently cups the side of my face.
‘I need to tell you something,’ he says, ‘and you’re going to hate me for it.’
‘I could never hate you,’ I say. ‘Just tell me what’s going on.’
I feel him tense slightly and he takes a breath, long and deep. ‘I . . . I think I know how your sister found out about you and your mum. It was because of me.’
‘You?’ I say. ‘But you haven’t met my sister. She doesn’t even know I’ve been seeing someone. How could it be because of you?’
‘It was my ex-girlfriend.’
‘Your ex?’ I can’t keep up with the conversation. ‘What does she have to do with this?’
‘My ex-girlfriend is Nicole Balfour.’
My stomach churns and dips. I feel sick.
‘Daniel’s sister Nicole?’ I have to be sure we’re talking about the same person. ‘My sister’s fiancé’s sister? That’s your ex-girlfriend?’
Justin nods wordlessly. I stand up and move away from him. I need to put some distance between us.
‘I don’t understand,’ I say. ‘You’ve heard me talk about Daniel’s family. Balfour isn’t a common surname. You must’ve realised the connection between me and Nicole before now. Why didn’t you say something?’ Justin is looking at anywhere but me. The penny drops. ‘Because you didn’t want me to know? Is that it?’
Justin nods. ‘I wasn’t supposed to tell you.’
‘“Supposed to tell” me? Who told you not to?’ Another penny drops. ‘Did you know who I was when we first met?’ I demand.
‘No, no.’ Justin holds his hands up. ‘I swear I didn’t. But Nicole saw those photos you posted on Instragram of me and Good Boy and then she asked me to keep seeing you—’
No. Please tell me this isn’t happening.
‘. . .and wanted me to get information out of you,’ he finishes miserably.
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘What kind of information?’
‘About your family. Mainly about your sister but she wanted to know about you and your dad too. Any secrets you may have been keeping.’
‘And what was she going to do with this information?’ I ask the question but the answer is already painfully clear. She has already done what she set out to do. I’m sure she was the one to tell Bex about Mum but I’m not going to let Justin off the hook – I want him to admit it.
‘She said she wanted to break Daniel and your sister up,’ he says, ‘that your family was rotten, and she wanted to save her brother from the heartache of b
eing trapped for the rest of his life. She asked for my help. I couldn’t say no.’
‘Why not? I don’t understand why you’d agree to be used by someone like that. What type of person behaves like that?’
‘I love her,’ he says simply and my heart breaks a little more. ‘At least, I thought I did. At the time I did and she was so convincing and knew just what to say to get me to agree. She told me . . . ’ his voices falters and he looks so wretched that I almost go to him. Almost. ‘ . . . that wasn’t true either, was it? The stuff about you attacking her? She made that up too.’
It’s a statement, not a question. He already knows the answer and I don’t bother replying.
‘Is that everything?’ I say instead. I know there’s more. Just say it, I think.
‘I told Nicole about your mum getting back in touch. She found out from me.’
That was it. I wanted him to admit it and he has. So why do I still feel so hollow?
I should’ve known this was too good to be true. Men like Justin don’t fall for girls like me. To even think those feelings might have been genuine is laughable now. I’ve been played and I feel like a fool. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to get as far away from Justin as I can.
I move towards the door but he’s behind me in an instant. He spins me round to face him and we’re so close all I have to do is stand on my tiptoes and we’d be kissing. I push him away. No more. I’m done being used.
‘Stay away from me,’ I hiss.
‘Please, Lizzie, don’t go. I thought I was doing the right thing. Nicole convinced me your sister would destroy her brother and she said all these things about you. She told me Becky was a gold digger and she was ruining Daniel’s life and that you were some sort of crazed football hooligan type thug. But then I got to know you . . . These last couple of weeks, I’ve loved them. You’re like no one I’ve ever met before.’
‘Stop it,’ I cry. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’
He grabs me again and his lips are on mine before I know it. There’s desperation in this kiss and I don’t want to feel it. I don’t want to feel anything. It takes all my strength to push him away and he stumbles and falls onto the floor. He looks up at me in shock.
‘I think I’m falling for you,’ he says, his voice small. His attempt at a pun is entirely lost on me right now.
‘It’s too little, too late,’ I reply. ‘What you did to me, to my sister, my family . . . it’s unforgivable. Was it just about an easy shag or was that the icing on the cake?’
‘Lizzie, no. That was real. I promise it was real. Please don’t leave. I don’t think I could bear it if you left.’
I don’t believe a word he says. All of the dates, conversations, kisses we’ve shared recently flash through my mind and each one is tainted. I hate him for making me so happy and I hate him for turning it all into lies. I stand there and stare at him, the tears pouring down my face. I don’t bother to wipe them away. I feel utterly humiliated, numb, broken.
‘Fuck you, Justin,’ I say, my voice hard.
‘I – I didn’t know when I agreed to this that I’d end up feeling this way about you.’
‘You know what? The Balfours and your precious Nicole might not think a lot of me, but it’s you lot that are the scum. I could never manipulate, scheme, lie and hurt someone the way you have. And worst of all, you’re just her puppet.’ I shake my head, tears falling freely. ‘I never want to see you again.’
I can’t hear any more of this. I race out of the flat and run as fast as I can down the road. I can hear Justin calling after me but I don’t stop running until his voice has faded away to nothing.
Chapter Thirty
Becky
After the scene with Lizzie, I head straight to the nearest hotel I can afford and check myself into a room. I can’t go home. I don’t want to see Daniel and I won’t be able to think straight after my fight with Lizzie to have a proper conversation with him anyway. He’s been calling and texting all afternoon but I haven’t responded. I don’t know what to say.
I pad over to the mini bar and take out all of the bottles of alcohol and line them up on the dressing table. I don’t usually mix drinks but tonight I don’t care. I unscrew the small bottle of white wine closest to me and gulp back the liquid in a couple of mouthfuls. I hope it will take the sadness away and send me into a heavy sleep.
All I can think about is Daniel and Lizzie. My two most beloved people in the world, the two people I care about the most, the two people I trust above anyone else. And both of them have lied to me. They’ve kept these huge secrets from me. They didn’t trust me to help them, to understand what they were going through. And the things they said about me . . . are they true? Have I changed? Daniel thinks it’s the lifestyle I want; Lizzie says I’ve been too preoccupied with this new life to have any time left for her. Maybe there is some truth in it.
I think about the other things Lizzie said, about how I’ve always told her what to do, never let her have the limelight. Has she felt this way all these years? I wish she’d said something sooner. And now with Tracy sniffing around trying to get her claws in, I feel like I’ve lost my sister to her. It’s all such a mess.
I pick up my phone to try Lauren again, knowing that she won’t answer. She’s on a team strategy event in the countryside with her PR firm. She said it was unlikely there would be any reception. It goes straight to voicemail, as I suspected it would, and I leave her another teary message asking her to ring me when she can. With nothing else to do, I climb into bed. It’s still light outside but I have a feeling sleep isn’t going to come easy today. I may as well start now. It takes three hours of tossing, turning and worrying about the future before I manage to fall into dreamless, sad sleep.
I wake up the next morning and for a moment I can’t remember why I feel so bad. All I know is that there’s an ache in the depths of my stomach. I sit up in bed, take in my hotel room and the events of yesterday come flooding back, a whirl of hurtful words, lies, arguments and confusion tumbling together.
My stomach growls so I pick up the phone to order room service for breakfast. Instinctively I think about the full English Lizzie would inevitably order if she was here and tears dampen my eyes once more. I try my best to understand why she would want Tracy back in her life, and I can’t fathom it. I thought Dad and I did enough to fill the hole Tracy left but we were deluding ourselves. No one can fill the gap a mother leaves behind.
My breakfast arrives in a few minutes: eggs, bacon, mushrooms, beans, sausages, toast, a jug of orange juice and today’s newspaper. I reach for a piece of toast and eagerly start munching it down. I’m ravenous. I pour myself a glass of juice and then unfold the paper.
The Daily World. Geez. This paper is everywhere. And then my eyes focus in on the front page headline and my heart stops.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE: THE BIG BALFOUR–ASHWORTH FEUD REVEALED
Warring between two families from opposite sides of the track reaches boiling point, with secrets, lies and jealous rivalries!
What the . . . ? I start to scan the front page and phrases jump out at me.
A source very close to the family claimed that Rebecca thinks she’s too good for her own family . . .
Rebecca Ashworth’s good girl act is fake – she’s abandoned her troubled sister Lizzie and is more concerned with being famous than her family, friends and job . . .
‘She’s forgotten where she comes from,’ the source claimed . . .
My first instinct is to think that this has something to do with Nicole, but then I read that the ‘source’ described Nicole as a vicious, entitled princess, the perfect evil stepsister in the making and Daniel as spineless and completely shady. He’s definitely hiding something. There’s no way Nicole is behind this.
This cannot be real. This can’t be happening again! They’ve used the same picture of Lizzie that they used last time. And there’s the picture of me and Nicole outside Chelsea House. The caption reads A different story behind close
d doors. I flip to the second page and there’s a picture of Daniel walking along a Notting Hill street, holding a coffee cup and frowning. That caption says London’s most eligible man caught in the middle of a bitchfest. What is he hiding?
Why can’t everyone just leave us alone? This is all lies but I know from what happened with Lizzie that people won’t care about that. They’ll believe what they read and that will be that. I screw up the paper in anger and throw it down onto the tray. It catches my glass, tipping it over and orange juice goes everywhere.
‘FUCK!!!’ I yell.
This is all too much.
I can’t breathe.
I think I’m having a panic attack.
I need air.
I shove my clothes on and try to get downstairs, into the air, as quickly as I can. As soon as I step outside a swarm of paparazzi surrounds me, their camera lights going off in my face. They’re all shouting questions at me.
‘Rebecca, why did you stay here last night?’
‘Rebecca, what’s going on with you and Nicole? Tell us about your feud!’
‘Rebecca, where’s your sister?’
‘Rebecca, what do you think Daniel’s hiding?’
‘Rebecca!’
‘Rebecca!’
‘Rebecca!’
Panicking, I retreat back into the hotel lobby, run back up to my room and slam the door behind me, tears streaming down my face.
I pull out my phone and dial a number with trembling hands.
‘Bex, love? I’ve just seen you on the news. What the bloody hell is going on?’
My dad’s voice, deep and reassuring, is instantly calming. ‘Dad?’ I whisper. ‘I need to get out of here. Where are you?’
‘I’m in Bath, visiting your Uncle Tommy.’
He’s close. My dad is down south. He’s close, he’s close, he’s close.
‘Do you want me to come and get you?’ he says.
I nod, even though he can’t see me. ‘Yes, Dad – there are reporters everywhere. I can’t leave.’ I tell him the hotel address. ‘Hurry, I . . . I don’t know what to do. I can’t breathe.’
My Sister's Wedding: For better or worse, two families are about to become one . . . Page 21
