Welcome To Wherever You Are (34 page)

‘No, Matty, no . . .’ whispered Declan, and placed his panicked fingers on Matty’s neck, desperately searching for a pulse.

Suddenly Matty’s eyes opened and he burst into laughter, while Declan reeled backwards in shock.

‘You fecking idiot!’ yelled Declan. ‘What did you do that for? I thought you were . . . you were—’

‘Dead? You can say the word, you know!’ laughed Matty. ‘Just think of this as a dry run.’

‘That’s not funny.’

Tears streamed down Matty’s face as his laughter became uncontrollable, but Declan didn’t share his friend’s amusement.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ he growled, and stormed out of their room.

The news of Zak Stanley’s death hit Jake with the force of a juggernaut.

Feeling suffocated in a lounge crammed full of strangers mourning the image of a man they never knew, he headed towards the open space of Venice Beach and the calming sounds of the waves washing in and out. He slipped out of his flip-flops and waded into the water until he was waist deep, allowing his breathing pattern to mimic the tide. In and out, in and out, slowly in time with the rhythm of the water, until Jake began to feel calmness return.

Zak had been the person who’d known Stuart best, and even though they’d not seen each other since before the night cameras caught him with cocaine on his lap and a convulsing girl by his side, his death made Jake feel a little more alone. He’d held on to the hope that one day their paths might cross again, and he imagined engineering a reunion by finding out where Zak lived in Los Angeles and turning up on his doorstep unannounced so they could close the chapter they’d left unfinished.

But it was only ever a daydream, and now Jake would never really know if Zak had tried to find him, because three days after making headline news, Stuart’s phone and wallet had been discovered lying on the grass by the 500-foot chalk cliffs of Beachy Head. As far as the world was aware, somewhere in the depths of the English Channel, currents were carrying Stuart’s body away, never to be found.

Meanwhile a newly born Jake was on the deck of a ferry sailing from Hull to Zeebrugge, Belgium, using a forged passport purchased from his Russian ex-housemates in Bolton.

TWO YEARS EARLIER – NOTTING HILL, LONDON

Geri Garland held a key card to a metal panel on her glossy black front door, which opened automatically.

She slipped off her cropped leather bomber jacket and tossed it across a Chesterfield sofa in a large, airy hallway. Stuart and her bodyguards followed her into a drawing room and watched as she poured herself a scotch from a decanter into a chunky glass tumbler, then dismissed them.

‘Mmm, that’s good,’ she purred, taking a long sip. ‘It’s been a hell of a morning, hasn’t it Stu? You know, they say alcoholic drinks taste better in a heavier glass because the weight of the tumbler can trick the brain in the way it processes taste. But you’d know a lot about tricking people, wouldn’t you?’

‘Why did you sell me out?’ Stuart blurted out.

‘Why not?’ Geri replied, matter-of-factly. ‘Why should I sacrifice a whole herd of cash cows when I only need to send one to be slaughtered?’

‘But it wasn’t my cocaine! You could have helped me convince the papers of that, or come up with an explanation.’

‘An explanation? Like what? That you’d had an accident with a bag of flour? Don’t be so naive. If it were just photos then maybe there’d have been a way out, but you were stupid enough to be videoed with it on your lap. On your bloody lap! They had you bang to rights.’

‘But you’re not listening to me – it was Katie’s coke, not mine.’

‘It doesn’t matter if it was the Queen of bloody England’s coke, it was all over you and a teenage soap star. As far as everyone’s concerned you’re the one who killed her.’

‘You didn’t have to sack me, you could have said you were sending me to rehab. Loads of stars end up at the Priory, and I’d have been out within a month and everyone would forgive me.’

‘Not Katie’s parents. Because for the rest of your public life they’d have hounded you in the press; look what happened when that lad drowned in Michael Barrymore’s swimming pool. He was never allowed to forget that and it destroyed his career and you’d never be allowed to forget running away when that poor girl was dying next to you.”

‘I’m the front man of that group, you told me that yourself. That’s why you put me in it. The band can’t survive without me.’

‘Band? You mean brand, because that’s all you are. And don’t fool yourself into thinking they’re going to split up just because of your stupidity. You gave those boys some competition, something to aim for, someone to beat. They’ve all developed a bit of charisma now, and without you I’m confident they’ll step up to the mark.’

Stuart swallowed hard – he would not cry in front of her. ‘Bullshit, I’ve read the Twitter and Facebook messages,’ he argued. ‘I know it’s me they pay money to hear sing.’

Geri gave a deep, throaty laugh and lit up a menthol cigarette. ‘Are you now so deluded that you’ve told yourself you have a voice?’ she asked. ‘You can’t even carry a bloody note! We all know that, that’s why we hired a session singer behind the scenes to do all your vocals for you, even the pre-records for the live shows. I’ll give you credit though, you’re the best bloody mime act I’ve ever worked with. But you’re just a pretty face with no talent. Face facts, Stu, you were an experiment to see if the public would buy a silk purse made from a sow’s ear, and they did. And you knew that from the word go.’

‘What about you and me?’ he continued, desperately trying a different tack. ‘I thought we … had something.’

Again Geri laughed. ‘Let’s not go there, shall we son?’

‘I don’t deserve for it to end like this,’ Stuart pleaded.

‘You didn’t deserve a £1 million recording contract either, or a Canary Wharf penthouse or a Range Rover. But I didn’t hear you complaining when you saw the money stack up.’

Geri took a deep drag from her cigarette and inhaled the smoke coming from her mouth with her nose.

‘You’re not getting it, are you kid?’ she continued. ‘You’re a liability. Nobody will touch you with a bargepole in this business again. You had some laughs, you saw the world, you lived like a star, now move on.’

‘But—’

‘But nothing. Sooner or later you’d have fucked it up for yourself anyway. Katie and I did you a favour.’

Stuart frowned and chewed the inside of his cheek. ‘What do you mean you did me a favour?’

DAY THIRTEEN

Eric finished flossing his teeth and lifted up his vest, studying his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he rubbed the hairs on his stomach backwards and forwards.

He hadn’t found the time to manscape in weeks and was annoyed at himself for allowing things to become so untidy downstairs. He turned to his side and pushed out his stomach as far as it stretched, then inhaled deeply. He could just about make out his six-pack under a fatty layer of convenience food, sugary soda drinks and a recently acquired penchant for blueberry muffins. He vowed he’d have all the time in the world to get back into shape once his mission was complete, and he predicted that would be very soon once he worked out what Nicole was up to.

Now she was aware of who he was and had greedily unearthed his mother’s legacy without telling him, the playing field was level and the game could begin in earnest. It was a game he’d win, of that Eric was sure. And he knew the chickens were coming home to roost a decade after they they’d been thrown from the family nest.

For someone who had little regard for the well-being of people in general, even Eric was aware of the irony of choosing a nursing career. After a handful of expulsions from the country’s top private schools, he’d scraped his way through five GCSEs and scratched a living from part-time jobs as a casino croupier and call-centre worker before joining the health care industry.

It was a career he planned would take him around the world once he branched out into the private sector, as that’s where the real money lay. Palliative one-to-one care for the wealthy and terminally ill meant he could earn more in the space of a month than in a year within the NHS. But with two more years of experience still required and his current earnings basic, Eric found a lucrative sideline through a single and needy hospital pharmacist who fell easily for his flattery.

Soon after their first tryst, he’d had her keys copied and replaced them inside her handbag without her being any the wiser. And not long after she’d turned on the ‘closed’ sign and gone home for the night, Eric was like a child with free night pass to Toys “R” Us. He had contacts willing to pay handsomely for past-their-sell-by-date drugs before the pharmacist denatured them or sent them off to an incinerator. He’d also pocket empty order chits while his patsy was otherwise engaged.

Frequently, Eric slipped Alzheimer’s, dementia and comatose patients vitamin tablets or placebos instead of their regular medication, believing it made no difference to their well-being what tablets they took: they were doomed anyway. Those pills also sold well on the black market. But while his extra earnings gave him a higher standard of living, it wasn’t enough for Eric. Nicole held the key to how he should be spending the rest of his life.

Eric exhaled and let his belly expand, pulled his vest down, and steeled himself for his next performance with Nicole. As he opened the bathroom door he saw her hovering around her bed looking nervous, before she turned in his direction.

‘I’m heading out for a bit,’ Nicole said.

‘Where are you going?’ Eric asked with a painted smile.

‘To the chemist’s,’ Nicole replied, and smiled back at him. ‘You used the last of the Paracetamol. I won’t be long.’

As she left the room, Eric knew he’d been lied to, as he hadn’t taken any medication. He glanced suspiciously at their bunk beds and, at first, couldn’t put his finger on why they looked different. Then he noticed Nicole had uncharacteristically tidied up around her bed; her clothes and empty bags were no longer scattered across the floor; her sheets and pillow were in place, but her sleeping bag was nowhere to be seen. Neither was her suitcase, he thought. He checked under her bed to see if she’d stored them there but the space was empty. He went towards the locker area where Nicole sometimes kept her belongings, but there was no trace of her.

‘She’s running away,’ he realised, feeling his rage rise. Immediately he located his toilet bag and rifled through it, shoving something into the pocket of his jeans. Then he ran down the corridor after her.

Tommy anxiously drummed his fingers on the reception desk, turning his head to check the clock above Ron’s office for the second time in a minute.

A full day had passed since he’d last seen or spoken to Jake, but Nicole’s troubles gave him more cause for concern than Jake’s unexpected outburst at the karaoke bar. And while Tommy didn’t hold grudges, he’d quietly hoped Jake would’ve sought him out to apologise by now.

Meanwhile Savannah perched on a stool behind Tommy and placed spacers between her toes, painting her nails in a deep red. He looked jittery, she thought, but she didn’t ask why.

Every so often she felt twinges in her stomach, so she’d gently rub her belly in a clockwise motion, as if to reassure her baby all was well in the outside world that awaited him. She hoped it wasn’t a surge of hormones heightening her emotions or preventing her from thinking rationally, but she had a hunch that moving in with Jane was the right thing for all concerned. No matter how much she mulled it over, she just couldn’t find fault with Jane. And it was too difficult to resist the offer to live under a proper roof with someone experienced in motherhood to help guide her in those first few difficult weeks. She knew she must put her child’s welfare above her own pride.

‘Yes,’ she told herself, ‘I’ve made the right decision.’

Sometimes trusting a stranger could be the right thing to do.

FOUR MONTHS EARLIER – CAFÉ, LOS ANGELES

Peyk made the most of the all-you-can-eat waffle bar and brought a third full plate back to the table he shared with Savannah.

She wore dark sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright light that added to the haziness of her memory. She poured several spoonfuls of sugar from the dispenser into her second mug of black coffee and gingerly sipped it.

‘Do you know what happened last night?’ asked Peyk.

Savannah shook her head. ‘I remember feeling dizzy when I was getting changed and I blacked out, but I don’t know how long for. And now something doesn’t feel right, you know, down there. What if he did something to me?’

‘I can take you to the police if you like? You know, get you examined.’

‘What’s the point? I don’t know what it feels like to be assaulted in that way, but I’m sure I’d be in a lot more pain if I had’ve been. And I’ve showered, so there wouldn’t be any evidence left.’

‘What if he knows where you live?’

‘You’re not helping me feel better about this.’

‘I’m serious. I know somewhere in Venice you can stay that won’t cost you anything, you’ll be surrounded by people so you’ll be safe. And I know a guy who works on the door at the Pink Pussycat in Santa Monica who could get you work so you wouldn’t have far to travel.’