Baby Be Mine (40 page)

‘What the fuck?’ Dana calls groggily from the bed.

‘Is Johnny in the bathroom?’ I shout at her. She shrugs and collapses backwards, not even bothering to cover up her skinny frame.

I slam my hand on the door in frustration and then look at the lock. He may be a millionaire, but he’s still only got one of those locks that can be opened quite easily from this side, with a coin.

‘Have you got any coins?’ I demand to know from Dana.

‘What?’ she asks. She’s totally out of it.

‘Damn you!’ I erupt. I run from the room to my bedroom and burst inside.

‘What? What is it?’ Bess asks fearfully.

‘Money, I need money,’ I say in a tizz. I grab my bag and get out a coin. ‘Stay here,’ I tell her, running out again.

Dana appears to have fallen back into unconsciousness so I unlock the door, full of nausea and fear. Is this how Rosa felt? My heart jumps as I see him lying in the bath, naked from the waist up.

‘Johnny? JOHNNY!’ I run to him and feel his pulse. It’s there. I shake him roughly. ‘Johnny, wake up!’

He moans and I feel like slapping his face – hard – again and again. He half opens his bloodshot eyes.

I sink down on the floor, full of despair tinged with relief. The anger, for now, has diluted.

‘What are you doing?’ I whisper.

He stares at me, but says nothing. He’s still in a drug-fuelled daze.

‘Barney is in the house.’ Tears fill my eyes. ‘We can’t stay here.’

He shakes his head, but still words fail to come.

‘I’ll call the doctor.’ I get to my feet.

‘Meg . . .’ he says in a croaky voice, reaching out his hand to me.

I stare at him sadly for a moment before leaving.

Bess is standing on the landing looking alarmed when I re-emerge.

‘He’s alive,’ I say as I walk towards her. I nod at my bedroom door and we go back inside. ‘We’ll have to leave,’ I tell her.

She says nothing.

‘I can’t put Barney at risk like this.’ And then the anger returns. ‘How dare he!’ I glance quickly at Barney, who’s still engrossed in his DVD, and as I look back at Bess I’m fervently shaking my head, tears in my eyes.

‘We could go to a hotel?’ she says hopefully. ‘Until it all blows over?’

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘That’s a good plan.’

  Chapter 41  

It’s not until Monday morning that it occurs to me that Joseph hasn’t called. It’s the first time I’ve thought of him since Saturday night, but before I rouse enough energy to care, something else happens.

‘Meg, you must ring me as soon as you can . . .’

I automatically jump to the conclusion that this voicemail message from Lena is to do with Johnny, but I soon find out that it’s regarding his son.

‘I got wind of it last night,’ she informs me. ‘I tried to call you, but your phone was switched off and Johnny didn’t know which hotel you’d gone to.’

It’s what I’ve always feared. A journalist has found out about Barney and they’re breaking it in one of America’s biggest tabloids.

‘Is there anything we can do?’ I ask.

‘No. It’s already been published.’

‘In this morning’s paper?’ My tone is incredulous.

‘Yes. And tomorrow, it will be everywhere . . .’

After I hang up, I stare at Bess, shell-shocked.

‘What is it?’ she asks.

‘The press know about Barney.’

She gasps. ‘Barney? I thought that phone conversation was about Johnny!’

‘No.’ I shake my head, gravely. ‘I’m afraid our secret is out.’

We have to go back to the house because it’s the only place we’ll be safe – for now. But I know I have to come up with a long-term plan, and staying with Johnny and his screwed-up girlfriend is no longer an option.

We took the Panamera when we left yesterday, and I’ve been thankful because all the paps know Davey’s car. However, when we pull around the corner to Johnny’s gates, I deeply regret my decision. There must be thirty paparazzi photographers and journalists all camped out there, and we have no protection. Our windows are tinted, but not blacked out.

‘Cover Barney’s face!’ I shout at Bess. She starts to scramble into the back seat. ‘No, wait,’ I change my mind. That could look even worse. ‘Oh, God,’ I moan. ‘We’re just going to have to go in with our heads held high.’

They don’t pay too much attention at first, but when they realise that this is the car belonging to Johnny’s former lover and his illegitimate lovechild, the pack becomes frenzied.

‘Mummy!’ Barney wails as bulbs start going off like strobe lights in his face.

I beep my horn to get them to move, but they won’t. They pound on the windows, screaming questions and taking photos, until suddenly the gates open and Johnny’s security team – which seems to have quadrupled overnight – swarms out and pushes back the crowd so we can slowly move forward into sanctuary.

‘Holy shit,’ Bess murmurs under her breath.

But I know – God, do I know – that this is just the start of it.

I don’t bother to park in the garage, pulling up instead right in front of the door. I clutch Barney to me protectively as we hurry into the house. I’m close to tears because he’s distraught and has no idea what’s going on or how his life has just changed dramatically. There are people milling about in the living room who I don’t even know. I regard them warily, then suddenly Lena appears.

‘Meg,’ she breathes.

‘Who are they?’ I ask quietly, stupendously aware of their eyes on me, but particularly on my son.

‘People from the record companies, publicists . . .’

‘I didn’t even know Johnny had a publicist.’ He always hated that sort of thing. ‘Record companies?’ I acknowledge the plural.

‘Dana’s also. They want to minimise the damage.’

‘Or maximise it,’ I say under my breath.

She gives me a sympathetic smile and pats my arm. ‘It’ll be okay.’

I recognise Bill Blakely – Johnny’s manager – as he steps away from the crowd and comes over to me.

‘Meg Stiles,’ he says knowingly in his inimitable cockney accent.

‘Hello, Bill.’

We don’t see eye to eye. He never forgave me for whisking Johnny off to the Dales on a ‘rehab adventure’ when he should have been at his end-of-tour party. Loads of important people from the industry and the media had given up their Christmas Eves to be there.

‘Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, darlin’,’ he says.

‘Surprise,’ I say wryly.

‘So this is the little chap?’ He looks at Barney.

‘It is indeed.’ I swivel Barney around to face him.

‘Jesus,’ he mutters under his breath. ‘He does look like him. The pics don’t do it justice.’

‘Pics? What pics?’ I ask with alarm.

‘In the paper.’

‘There are pictures?’

He looks at me like I’m mad. ‘Of course.’

I shake my head manically. ‘I haven’t seen the piece yet. Excuse me, Bill.’

I hurry over to Lena, waiting a few feet away. She ushers me into the office.

‘I’ll take Barney,’ Bess offers, but I hug him tighter.

‘No. Thank you,’ I add. ‘I want to keep him with me.’

She sinks down onto a chair and looks over my shoulder as Lena passes me the paper.

It’s front-page news. A whole front page. The photograph they’ve used is one of me carrying Barney out of the Halloween party. My heart clenches. He’s dressed as a pumpkin, the little soul. We must’ve been caught in the background of another shot – the resolution is grainy and a touch blurry. I scan the article. They know about me; how I used to work as Johnny’s PA. Inside the paper there’s another photograph of Johnny and me from when we got snapped at the Ivy one time. There was nothing in it – he just wanted to go out for a bite to eat and it was my job to accompany him – but even I have to admit that we look suspicious, arriving together on his motorcycle. No wonder his girlfriend at the time was angry. Now this journalist is making out that we had a sleazy affair while she was still on the scene. I read on and my nausea triples. I put down the paper and stare up at Lena.

‘Our lawyers are on it,’ she quickly assures me.

‘It’s already been printed,’ I whisper with horror.

Apparently I’m living here now as Johnny’s second wife . . . Dana, him and me, all under the same roof as one big happy, sordid household. The journalist has spun a tale of debauchery – he seems to know all about the drug-fuelled party on Saturday night – but nothing of the facts. Bess has been painted as our live-in nanny, hired to give me more time to devote to my lovers . . .

I nod at Bess. She can take Barney now, because I don’t have the strength to hold him. She leaps up and relieves me. Just then, Johnny walks into the room.

‘Nice bit of bedtime reading,’ he says jauntily, nodding at the paper.

‘I don’t know how the’ – I almost say ‘fuck’ –
‘hell
you can joke about this!’

Bess, thankfully, takes Barney out, which is a huge relief because then Dana appears and there’s no way I’ll be able to contain my anger now.

‘What the hell are YOU still doing here!’ I practically scream at her. ‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble?’

‘She couldn’t leave now, even if she wanted to,’ Johnny drawls.

‘I do want to,’ she points out.

‘Why? Have you got an appointment with your drug dealer that you just can’t cancel?’ I ask bitterly.

She laughs and it makes me so angry I could slap her. None of this is bothering her at all. She feeds off the drama. I get the feeling that that’s what she thrives on in life. Trouble and strife. That’s cockney for ‘wife’, I think distractedly to myself. Is there something in that? Back to the present.

‘You’re pathetic,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Both of you. One of your fucked-up friends leaked this story—’

‘Who’s to say it was one of our friends?’ Johnny interjects sinisterly. ‘What about that Joseph?’

‘Yeah, your boyfriend could have spilled the beans,’ Dana adds with a sly grin.

My pulse quickens. Really? No. But he hasn’t called me . . .

No. He wouldn’t. I’m a better judge of character than that.

Aren’t I?

The two of them watch me, watch my reaction. My face has given away my doubt and they see this with satisfaction. I remember Charlie and wonder if she might have been to blame. Who knows?

I look back at Johnny, his green eyes challenging mine as Dana smirks.

‘You make me sick,’ I whisper at him, and a flicker of something passes over his face. Dana laughs, but I ignore her. ‘We’re leaving,’ I tell him resolutely.

‘No, you’re not,’ he replies.

‘Oh, yes,’ I nod and I suddenly feel very, very calm. ‘Yes, we are. And until you sort yourself out and get rid of your fucked-up—’

‘Language,’ Dana butts in merrily.

‘. . . druggie girlfriend,’ I continue, while she sucks the air in through her teeth but pretends not to care, ‘we’ll have nothing more to do with you.’

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Johnny reiterates, but his conviction is waning.

I raise my eyebrows at him and walk out of the office.

I head upstairs to my room, where Bess is waiting with Barney.

‘Your phone has been beeping,’ she says, handing me my handbag, which she helpfully carried up along with my son.

I take it from her and pull out my phone. Eleven missed calls, mainly from Mum and Dad, and – oh, hell – there are a couple from Susan.

I never did tell her . . .

Christian. I never told him, either.

I cover my mouth with my hand. ‘Can you entertain Barney in his room?’ I ask Bess, tears welling up in my eyes.

‘Of course,’ she replies with concern.

‘Thank you,’ I call after her. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you here.’

‘It’ll be okay,’ she tells me.

But she’s wrong. It will never be just okay from now on. Okay is not a word that can be used to describe our lives anymore. Nor is normal, or average, or run-of-the-mill. From now on, our lives will be – and will forevermore be – extraordinary. I’m no longer an ordinary girl and Barney is no longer an ordinary boy.

I get a flashback to being with Johnny in France – him being there for me when it all came crashing down – and for a moment I feel tender towards him. But then my heart reverts to steel. Steel which turns molten when I remember why I asked Bess to leave.