Deranged Marriage (38 page)

I have no idea how long I was alone but it felt like ages until they both returned. Imogen had a glass of brandy in her hands. She shoved the glass towards me. I stared at the amber liquid as if I had never seen it before, then Imogen changed her mind and drank it herself.

‘Lisa is on her way,’ Imogen said. ‘Do you think she needs a doctor?’

‘Wait for Lisa to come, maybe she’ll be able to do something.’ Freddie looked at me. ‘In the meantime, maybe you can make us all some tea.’

‘Oh, good idea, lots of sugar.’ Obviously she had seen too many TV programmes that responded to crises with sweet tea, or maybe the brandy had gone to her head.

‘I don’t have sugar, it’s bad for the baby,’ I said, and then I fell into Freddie’s arms.

We moved to the sitting room, because it felt strange being in the spare room, but the blinds were firmly down. Imogen couldn’t help but peek out of them, and give us a commentary, but nothing had changed. There was a plethora of journalists and photographers on the street outside my flat. How on earth were you supposed to deal with that? Imogen told us that one journalist had gone and got four coffees to distribute while the others looked on enviously. One photographer steamed into action when someone left my building, it was someone from the downstairs flat. Apparently they looked stunned and Imogen heard them ask the woman a question, to which she replied by running away. From Imogen’s description I deduced it was the cleaner who worked for the couple whom I had nodded to a million times, who shared a mailbox with me (names were Jacquie and Dave Hooper), but whom I had never had more than a one-line conversation with.

‘We ought to put a note of apology through their door,’ I said. Imogen (who was getting a tad annoying), was dispatched to do this. She returned triumphantly and resumed her position by the window.

‘Why don’t you all just piss off,’ a voice streamed up to the window.

‘Oh Lisa’s here,’ Imogen said, although we had guessed that.

‘She’s pointed at some guy, and she’s swearing at him. Oh, now she’s shoved some woman out of the way—ouch—she just kicked a photographer’s shin. She’s nudging people out of the way. Now she’s reached the front door.’ We heard her open it; Freddie had obviously told her to bring keys. We heard some more swearing and then the door slammed shut, I felt the flat shake. I went to the door to meet her.

‘Oh, Holly,’ she said, before engulfing me in her elfin arms. I started crying. She pulled me into the sitting room.

‘At least she’s out of shock,’ Freddie said.

‘But none of this is good for the baby,’ Lisa protested.

I nodded. I was scared. My trance, my panic, the fact I couldn’t leave the flat, and I was supposed to be at yoga. None of this was helping the baby, or the baby’s mother.

‘Darling, breathe slowly.’ I was glad that Lisa had joined me for my yoga sessions because she took me through the breathing technique and it worked. I felt slightly less panicky and a smidgen more in control. Despite the fact I could hear the low murmuring of the people camped on the pavement, I could think more clearly.

‘Shit. That’s it,’ I said, jumping up. Everyone looked at me as if finally I had lost it. ‘No, if George thinks the baby is his, then we can tell him that this behaviour is putting the baby at risk.’

‘I guess it’s worth a try,’ Imogen looked unsure.

‘Oh God, we ought to tell Joe. I promised him I would keep him informed. He would have seen the papers this morning, all that “who’s the father stuff.” Do you think they’re stalking
him
? Oh shit.’

‘Holly, don’t get into that state again. Firstly I am going to go outside, and read this statement. Are you happy with it?’ I took it from him. Freddie was amazing. He had managed to get me calm, sort Imogen out, and type and print out a statement. I kissed his cheek and started to read:
Holly
Miller
released
a
statement
telling
the
press
that
she
was
pregnant
and
unsure
of
the
paternity
of
the
father
.
Her
honesty
has
been
total
and
we
would
like
the
press
to
respect
that
.
We
would
also
like
the
press
to
respect
her
privacy
and
leave
her
doorstep
.
If
there
are
any
developments
we
promise
to
keep
you
fully
informed
.
Thank
you
.

‘I guess that sums it up,’ I said. ‘Can’t we call the police?’

‘Yeah because the gutter press will really go away and not come back. They’ll be back as soon as the police leave. I’ll go and read this, then I’ll come back. Holly, go and call George and Joe. Lisa, monitor her and make sure she doesn’t lose it. Imogen, get away from the window.’ Everyone jumped at Freddie’s command. Even Imogen stopped blind-twitching for a minute.

I went to the phone and dialled Joe’s mobile number. I felt awful about what was happening to him, really awful. He answered it immediately.

‘Joe, it’s me,’ I said.

‘I wondered if you’d call, are you all right?’ I had thought he would sound angry, but he didn’t, his voice was full of concern.

‘I’ve got fourteen reporters outside my flat...yes fourteen, Imogen counted them.’ I tried to sound flippant about it.

‘I couldn’t believe the newspapers, I know you said that you’d tell them but it’s plastered everywhere.’

‘I am so sorry.’

‘They found me. I had two photographers and a reporter waiting outside my office. They took some photos of me and asked for a comment, I told them to bugger off. I don’t think that was wise.’

‘Joe, don’t say anything unless you want to and if you do, call me and I’ll get Freddie or Francesca to say it. The press will twist things anyway so that might be a better move. I feel really dreadful but I don’t know what to do to stop it.’

‘Are you all right?’ he asked again.

‘I’m sort of coping. To be honest I’m going to call George and make a last ditch attempt to appeal to his better nature.’

‘Hol, even though it might not be mine, I am worried about the baby.’

‘So am I. That’s why I’m going to call him.’

‘I wish we could get the fucking test done.’

‘Joe, it’s too risky and even then my doctor won’t do it anyway.’ I had mixed feelings about this. I didn’t want the test, I didn’t want to lose the hope that Joe was the father, but then if it was Joe’s then life would be better. But with the risk to the baby I knew it wasn’t an option.

‘I know.’

‘Sorry.’ That word had been hollowed out and stuffed with cotton wool.

‘Me too.’

It was getting worse. Suddenly I felt cold.

‘How did it go?’ Lisa asked, although I knew she had heard my side of the conversation.

‘He got photographed outside his office and he told a reporter to bugger off.’

‘Freddie’s finished,’ Imogen announced. ‘He’s coming back in.’ I heard the door.

‘Lisa can you get me a jumper, I’m really cold.’ I shivered.

‘How did it go?’ Imogen asked, the minute Freddie walked through the door. It was then I realised she had been listening to my conversation rather than watching Freddie deliver his speech.

‘Not great I’m afraid, they want photos of your bump, Hol.’

‘Tough shit,’ Lisa said, as she returned with a cardigan.

‘I’m going to have to go out at some point. I’ve got an appointment with my gynaecologist.’

‘Maybe they’ll be gone by then,’ Imogen said hopefully, but not convincingly.

‘I’m calling George,’ I announced, and went back to the phone.

‘George, it’s Holly,’ I said, as he answered his mobile after the first ring.

‘Holly, how are you?’ His voice was dripping with insincere concern, he was probably with someone, or worse still being interviewed. I looked at my watch, it was four in the afternoon.

‘Are you alone?’ I asked.

‘I am,’ he said, which surprised me.

‘George, I’ve got a bunch of reporters and photographers camped outside my house.’

‘Really?’ he sounded genuinely surprised.

‘Yes and I’ve missed my prenatal yoga class and I can’t get to the doctor because I can’t go out.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they are hounding me. They keep shouting for me through the letter box. Freddie went out to read a statement and they said they wanted a photo of me looking pregnant. They won’t go until they’ve got it.’ My voice had become hysterical yet again.

‘So let them take a photo.’ He sounded as if the paparazzi had politely asked me to let them take a photograph and I was the one being unreasonable.

‘George I can’t, there’s masses of them, they’re scaring me and the baby.’ I burst into unplanned tears.

‘Holly, I don’t control the press. The only way you can get them to leave is by coming to your senses.’ He had hung up by the time I thought of a suitable reply.

I thought I knew it, but I realised something then, something I should have realised a lot sooner. George didn’t care about me one hoot and much worse he didn’t care about the baby. He cared about the press, his exposure and his new status as a celebrity. I know we’d discussed it, but it was only now I fully comprehended it.

I had never worked for any famous people, I worked with brands, big companies, but I had never worked for an individual. But George had taken advantage of the new celebrity. No longer did you need to sing and dance, all you needed was to get some exposure and there you go. You can book a table in the Ivy and you’re a celeb. Go to parties, go to premieres, go anywhere that will have you and will give you some publicity, any publicity. George was dangerous when he took me to court, dangerous when he first went to the press but now he was more than dangerous, he was famous and would do anything to stay that way.

Freddie came over and hugged me as he saw the panic-stricken look appear on my face. I think he had already worked out what I had just realised. Imogen had moved away from the window and she was fidgeting, clearly as baffled as I was about what to do. Lisa had gone to the kitchen and come back with some biscuits and she had also made a pot of coffee. Lisa being practical was almost as scary as the people on my doorstep.

There are situations where the people around you, the people that care about you, have a really tough time. This was one of them. I knew that no one really knew what to do, that Freddie had tried his best and been unsuccessful, that Imogen and Lisa felt helpless, and I was falling apart. I could feel myself coming apart and I knew that I couldn’t let it happen. Rationalising, I realised that they wouldn’t doorstep me for ever. They’d lose interest before I needed to go out. Surely. I grabbed my Palm Pilot and checked my diary. I had a yoga lesson, which I could skip, a birthing lesson that wasn’t until the beginning of the following week, and an appointment with the hospital. I realised how much my life had changed, I was used to having a diary with stuff in it, now it was empty. I walked over to the table and fired up my laptop.

‘What are you doing?’ Imogen asked.

‘I’m going to do some work. Freddie, shall we?’ Freddie came to join me and we checked my e-mails, sent one to Francesca, then we started working.

‘What should I do?’ Imogen asked, still looking anxious. I glanced at Freddie and smiled.

‘What would be really great is if you and Lisa could go and get me some clothes. I mean I can’t go out and my waistline has expanded at an alarming rate since last week. I’m getting really fat.’

‘You do look a bit porky,’ Freddie chipped in, supportively but not sweetly.

‘But you need to choose,’ Imogen protested, ignoring Freddie as I kicked him in the shin. Actually that action made me feel better than anything else had.

‘I trust you and Lisa.’ Actually I trusted Lisa. ‘I don’t have any cash but I’ll give you a cheque if you pay.’ I knew that Imogen had about a million credit cards.

‘What a good idea,’ Lisa said catching my eye.

‘How do we get through the press?’ Imogen asked, still not convinced.

‘Just walk past them, as long as you make sure they don’t get in the front door, you should be all right,’ Freddie responded while typing an e-mail to our team in the office.

‘Yeah, come on Immi, if anyone gives us any shit I’ll sort them out.’ For a minute Lisa sounded like an extra from a Guy Ritchie film, but I smiled, gratefully.

‘What size? I mean what size do we get?’ Ah, I had no idea about that.

‘Just buy expanding things, I’m sure that’s all you need to do if you go to a maternity shop.’ Finally Imogen seemed convinced.

‘Good idea, we’ll be really helping won’t we?’

‘Absolutely, even my tracksuit is straining on me.’ I smiled and waved them off.

I heard the door shut behind them, then I heard them walking down the stairs. Both Freddie and I peaked round the blind to see them emerge on to the doorstep. The second the door opened the cameras went off.

‘Shit, I’m blind,’ Lisa said, pulling Imogen out of the doorway and slamming it.

‘Are you friends of Holly’s?’ someone asked.

‘Actually I’m her sister and I’d appreciate it if you left us in peace.’

‘Yeah, just fuck off,’ Lisa added for good measure. I just couldn’t wait to see the quotes in the papers.

‘Have we done the right thing sending those two out together?’ Freddie asked, smiling.

‘Who cares, at least they can do something useful and also stop pacing my flat. I’ll need to put down a new floor by the time Imogen leaves.’