Undercover Alice

by Shears, KT

I shook my head. ‘I love it here,’ I said.

  Diana was perceptive: you don’t get to do her job without being able to read between the lines.

  ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’ she said. Her voice was so kind that I was horrified to find myself in tears. She crossed round the desk quickly and hugged me.

  ‘Oh I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t be nosey.’

  ‘It’s ok,’ I said, sniffling. ‘I just…I’ve really hurt someone I care about.’

  ‘A boy?’ she asked, sympathetically.

  ‘THE boy. I loved him. I love him.’ I wrung my hands. ‘But I treated him awfully and I can’t even explain to him how I feel. He couldn’t even look at me when he found out.’

  Diana patted me on the shoulder.

  ‘Is there no hope?’

  I shook my head. ‘Let’s just say that if I was him, I’d never want to speak to me again either.’

  Diana didn’t probe any further, thankfully, and she switched the subject back to work. I pulled myself together and pitched some ideas I had had for stories, which she loved.

  ‘Now please don’t stay late,’ she told me. ‘Go home.’

  Reluctantly I did as she asked, and headed home at around 6ish.

  The cupboards were still bare after my hastily aborted shopping excursion – I’d been surviving mainly on snacks from the vending machines at work – and I called for Chinese takeaway.

  I settled on to the sofa and started reading a magazine, but was surprised to hear a knock on the door. That was quick, I thought. I’d only ordered 15 minutes ago.

  I opened the door and, to my shock and amazement, Annie was standing on my doorstep.

  Chapter twenty-seven

  I looked at her, my mouth agape. What the hell was Annie Westwall doing outside my house?

  ‘Well?’ she said, tapping her foot impatiently. ‘Are you going to let me in?’

  Wordlessly, I stood back and let her enter. My mind was spinning. Was she here to tell me how awful I was? I didn’t think I could cope with that. I was telling myself that every day anyway, I didn’t need someone else to join my sad little party.

  She turned to face me, looking stern.

  ‘I suppose you know why I’m here.’

  I found my voice.

  ‘I don’t, actually,’ I said. ‘But if you’re here to tell me what an awful person I am, and how badly I’ve treated your son, then I don’t need to be told. I feel terrible.’

  Tears welled up in my eyes.

  Annie softened a bit, but she still looked angry. And rightly so, I thought. Matt was the only thing in her life now that Leila and Bertie were gone, no wonder she was protective of him.

  ‘How could you have done that to him?’ she asked, taking a seat on the sofa. ‘I saw the two of you together when you were over in Spain. I could tell there was something going on, and I was glad. Matt hasn’t had a girlfriend since before Leila…’ She paused.

  ‘I know what happened to Leila, and I know what happened to Matt.’ I said.

  Annie looked surprised.

  ‘He told you? Everything?’ I nodded and she sat thoughtfully for a moment. ‘What happened with Leila broke him, Alice. It broke Bertie, but it broke Matt too, even though he won’t admit it. I used to go to see him every week in that place. Have you any idea what it’s like to visit your son in prison, with your daughter murdered and a husband who refuses to accept what’s happened?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘It was hell, Alice. Utter hell. He was so miserable, I began to worry that he’d do something stupid in that place. And when I got the phone call to say he’d been stabbed, I thought that was it. I thought the call was to tell me my son was dead.’

  Her voice wavered and then strengthened again. She was a strong woman, Annie.

  ‘He got released and he was wishing his life away. Drinking, no ambition, no zest for life. I was glad he was out of prison, but I still wondered if I might lose him.’

  I couldn’t imagine how awful it had been for her to see her son and only child throwing his life away.

  ‘I had to do something. I couldn’t see my family completely destroyed. So I got on a plane and turned up at his door, just like I did with you tonight. He stunk of alcohol when he opened up. He was filthy, and his house was a pigsty. I marched right in there, and threw him in the shower. I threw away all the bottles of booze and the empty food wrappers and, when he came out of the shower, I sat him down on the sofa. I told him I wouldn’t let him throw his life away; that losing Leila was enough for any mother to bear and I couldn’t stand back and watch him do that same. That Leila would be horrified to see her big brother like this.’

  She spread her hands on her lap and looked down at them.

  ‘Something I said got through to him. He started to clean his act up, and when he showed us his business plan for his own company, Bertie insisted we give him most of our savings to help him start up. I was glad to, to see him so happy and back to his old self again. But something was missing. And then Bertie died, and I didn’t know how to go on. But then, you arrived, and I saw you with Matt, and I knew there was something there. And I felt hope, hope that he had found someone he could trust, someone he could be with.’

  I hung my head, ashamed.

  ‘He called me the other week. I could tell right away something was wrong. He calls me a few times a week, and the last few calls had been all about you. He was planning on taking you on holiday, you know, back out to Spain. We had planned stuff for you. We were both so excited.’

  I felt the tears well up again. This was even worse than I’d feared.

  ‘He was distraught, and said he’d been a fool. When he told me what had happened, I was furious, Alice. Totally furious. I booked a flight out here straight away, and I phoned the newspaper you were working at and got your address from someone called Harry. I just had to come and see you, to hear what you had to say about it.’

  She looked at me, clearly waiting for an explanation.

  I shook my head. What was I supposed to say? I had behaved appallingly and hurt Matt and his mother. There was no excuse.

  ‘I don’t even have an explanation,’ I said, miserably. ‘My editor called me in and said he’d heard from a friend of his in Spain that the boss of this big new IT firm had been in prison for something. He said an exposé would make our sales soar, and I might even win a journalism award. I’ve always been passionate about journalism, I’ve wanted to write ever since I was a little girl and it seemed like a great opportunity. I assumed that because he’d been in prison, he wouldn’t be that good a person. I was wrong.’

  I wiped away the tears that were trickling down my face.

  ‘He’s the best person I’ve ever met, Annie. He made me feel so alive, and I was never going to write that article. I told my editor I hadn’t found anything out, even after Matt had told me about Leila and what he did to Miguel. Please believe me, I never would have written that story.’

  I was crying properly now, fat tears rolling down my cheeks.

  Annie sat, stoically, but I felt she had softened towards me a bit and even felt a bit of sympathy for my obvious distress.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell him?’

  ‘I should have, I know. But I didn’t know how, and he had trusted me with his secret. How could I throw it back in his face? And it was going so well, I dared to hope we might have a future. Oh god, I love him, Annie. I love him and I messed it all up. He hates me.’

  I buried my face in my hands and wept. I was surprised to feel Annie place an arm round my shoulder.

  ‘You’re a silly girl,’ she scolded, gently. ‘But he doesn’t hate you. Quite the opposite, I’m sure. But he’s hurt and he doesn’t know what to do.’

  ‘I don’t either,’ I wailed.

  Annie sighed. ‘And of course, there’s the unfortunate matter of the story.’

  I jerked my head up. ‘I’m not going to write the story,’ I said. I thought I’d said that a fe
w minutes ago.

  ‘I know. But your editor called Matt the other day – apparently one of his sources in Spain managed to dig up the dirt himself. The story is running in tomorrow’s paper.’

  I let out a fresh wail.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I couldn’t believe Matt’s dirty laundry was going to be aired in public. ‘I don’t work for the paper anymore, I can’t stop it.’ I shook my head in despair.

  Annie looked at me, thoughtfully.

  ‘Are you working somewhere else?’

  ‘Yes, for an online magazine.’

  Annie had a shrewd expression on her face.

  ‘I wonder…’

  Chapter twenty-eight

  ‘I don’t even know if he’ll read it,’ I said to Diana, as she read over my article.

  ‘This is amazing, Alice. Absolutely amazing.’ She shook her head. ‘Even if he doesn’t read it, everyone else will, and they’ll see what a great man he is.’

  I hoped so. The article in today’s paper had been bad. It could have been worse; even Dave Barry had some scruples, so the fact Matt had attacked the man who killed his sister had been left in, but it still probed deeply into his life and called into question his suitability for running such a large company. And it still exposed Matt and Annie’s secrets to the world. Annie had called me earlier and was obviously upset, although she’d put a brave face on it. That bastard Barry had got hold of a picture of Leila, and had used it on the front. I wanted to kill him.

  ‘When can we put it up?’ I asked.

  ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ she said, handing it back to me.

  I knew if I didn’t put it up now, I’d chicken out.

  ‘Do it,’ I said.

  The real Matt Westwall

  By Alice Connelly

  Many of you will have read the article in today’s Daily Chronicle. Many of you will have been horrified; shocked that someone with a criminal record could end up owner of his own company and a prominent member of our community. Some of you might want to sever all ties with him, to walk away and pretend you never knew him. And it’s true, Matt Westwall has a criminal record. He spent two years in prison for assault.

  I’m ashamed to say that I had a hand in today’s newspaper article. I don’t need anyone to feel disgusted on my behalf; I have to live with that every day. I was sent to worm my way into this man’s company, and to dig the dirt on his past. I may have dug up some dirt but mostly what I uncovered was how this selfless and caring man has made a new life for himself after the horrors of what happened to his family.

  Take a minute, if you will, to imagine one of your own family being murdered. Can you imagine it? Really? I can’t. And, yet, some seem happy to judge Matt Westwall for his actions. I can’t presume to know how I would act if someone killed someone I loved, and then admitted it to my face. Can you?

  Today’s newspaper article is the worst of journalism. It is the salacious gossip column, designed to titillate and humiliate. It is the seedy ramblings of a man so jaded with life, that he’s lost all sight of what is right. It is without ethics and without merit and I am disgusted to ever have been associated with a paper who believes that this is worthy of even a two-paragraph story on page 10, let alone a front page.

  I hurt Matt Westwall, and I will never forgive myself for that. I have to live with that every day, and to know that I have lost the respect and friendship of a man who is ten times the author of that newspaper article; a man who is utterly devoted to his work and to his members of staff; the kindest and most generous man I have ever met. I will forever regret the day I wasn’t strong enough to say no to my editor. I have lost the man I love, and it doesn’t get much worse than that.

  Diana pressed a few buttons on her keyboard.

  ‘It’s live,’ she said.

  ‘Now what?’ I asked.

  ‘Now, we wait.’

  ***

  A couple of hours after the article went live, Scott, one of the young interns, came running up to me, waving a sheet of paper in my face.

  ‘Take a look at this,’ he squealed, thrusting it at me.

  I took it from him but it was gibberish to me, just lots of numbers. I squinted at it but could make no sense of it at all.

  ‘What is this, Scott?’ I said, impatiently.

  ‘It’s the number of hits your article’s had,’ he explained, excitedly. ‘It’s going viral. It’s been shared more than 2,000 times on Facebook, and it’s the most hits we’ve ever had on a single story by far.’

  I was amazed.

  ‘What, people are actually reading it? I said. I’d assumed that my self-indulgent and desperate ramblings would be largely ignored.

  Scott leant over me at my desk and took hold of my mouse, navigating to our website. He clicked on my story and scrolled down to the comments section.

  ‘Look,’ he said, pointing at the screen.

  I peered round him and gasped. We were lucky to get five or six comments on most of our stories, but there were hundreds on mine. I grabbed the mouse from him and started scrolling.

  ‘This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,’ someone called Kelly gushed. ‘Please read this, Matt.’

  Another comment read: ‘Surely Matt has to forgive her?’

  Of course, there were a few unpleasant comments too, but I was overwhelmed by the number of people who seemed to want Matt and I to be together.

  ‘This is insane,’ I said, and Scott nodded.

  ‘Isn’t is great?’ he said, breathlessly.

  An e-mail popped up on my screen and I clicked it. It was from Jen.

  ‘Top article, lady! Brought a tear to my glass eye. Any word from him? J x’

  I glanced down at my phone. Nothing.

  ‘Not a peep. I guess it was a long shot.’

  The views on my article kept racking up as the day went on, and they were still climbing when I left the office and went home. Annie had called me – the article had been her idea, after all – and she sounded emotional as she told me how much she’d enjoyed it. She said she’d sent a copy to Matt, and told him he had to read it.

  ‘By the way,’ she had said, as we were about to ring off. ‘Sarah’s gone.’

  ‘She is?’

  ‘Matt said he couldn’t work with her anymore, so she left.’

  I felt a glimmer of hope, but I still hadn’t heard from him and as the evening wore on, my initial euphoria at my article’s success wore off. I was back to square one and out of ideas. Maybe this was really it; perhaps Matt was out of my life for good.

  I changed into my pyjamas and moped on the sofa for a while.

  There was a knock at the door. Probably Annie again, she’d said she would come round to say goodbye before she flew home. I opened the door and to my shock, Matt was standing there.

  He was dressed casually, in jeans and a t-shirt, and I wanted to fling myself his arms and sob.

  ‘Matt!’ I exclaimed.

  He didn’t reply, just kept looking at me. I wished I wasn’t wearing pyjamas with little cows printed all over.

  ‘Matt I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I just…’ I was cut off, as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

  When he released me, I started crying, and he took my hands in his.

  ‘I’m sorry too, Alice. I should have let you explain, but I was just so angry. My mum sent me a link to your article and before I knew what I was doing, I was on my way over here.’

  ‘I miss you,’ I said. ‘I miss you, and I love you, and I don’t want to be apart from you.’

  He stroked my face.

  ‘I miss you too. And I love you too.’ My heart leapt. ‘That’s why I was so upset. I’ve fallen in love with you, Alice, and I don’t want to be without you.’

  He released me from his grasp and stepped back, and I tried to compose myself.

  ‘Please believe me, Matt. I would never have written that article. I told Barry to shove it.’ I started to cry.

  He took my hand and stro
ked it gently.

  ‘I know, Alice. I was just so angry I couldn’t think straight and then, after the anger had died down, I didn’t know if you’d felt anything for me at all anyway, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.’

  I shook my head vehemently.

  ‘You wouldn’t have. I’ve hoped every night that you would knock on my door.’

  He fumbled in his jacket pocket. Oh my god, was he going to propose? This is madness, we weren’t ready for that. My mind whirled.

  ‘Matt...’ I said.

  He brandished a bit of paper at me and I took it, puzzled. Then I read it and I started to laugh.

  There was a young lady called Alice,

  Some might say that she’d been callous,

  But Matt didn’t care,

  They made a great pair,

  Especially as he has great hair

  ‘Want to come in?’

  And he did.

  THE END