Chapter 3
Three
A job? Newt held his breath for so long, he made a weird noise when he exhaled. Shit. “Doing what?”
“Before I tell you, I need you to read and sign this.” Max tapped into his phone, then handed it to Newt. “It’s an NDA. A non-disclosure agreement. And a basic employment contract.”
Newt frowned and read. You must not… You cannot…
He wasn’t sure what he’d be signing not to reveal but he’d never had a problem keeping his mouth shut.
He didn’t read the employment contract just in case it said anything about a criminal conviction.
He knew that was no excuse if it came out, but… He took the stylus from Max and signed.
“Give me your email and I’ll send it to you. Your telephone number too.”
When the document arrived, he nodded to Max.
“I have a client who needs help. I think you’re just the person.”
“Doing what?”
“Living with him, talking to him, doing the cooking, some light cleaning, a little gardening, getting him to exercise, persuading him to practise speaking. Maybe most importantly, being his friend.”
“His friend, when we’ve never met?”
“Become his friend because he needs one. He’s more than a client to me.
But you can’t tell anyone about him, how he’s doing, what he’s doing, where he lives.
No photos are to be taken of him by you or anyone else without my permission.
You need to be aware that anyone you speak to could be the press, or someone out to make money by revealing information about him. ”
Newt’s brain was racing. A live-in job, caring for someone who sounded like a guy who’d had a stroke. He could do that. “When would you want me to start?”
“Now. Can you?”
“Why so desperate?”
“Because he needs help but keeps pushing it away. You can’t let that happen. I’d be employing you so you work for me, not him. No matter what he says, does or threatens, I need you to stay with him, look after him.”
“I have to stop him going out?”
“He’s not capable of going out on his own. Not yet. Plus, he might be recognised.”
“He’s famous?”
“Yes. This is where the NDA really kicks in. You might decide to sell his story to the press. Maybe write a book. You’d be in trouble if you did.”
“I know how to keep quiet.” He’d zipped his mouth from the moment he’d been dragged out of the house by the police.
Even when he’d realised what was being done to him, he kept quiet.
How could he have lived with himself if Phelan had ended up in prison for fifteen years?
But that was when Newt thought he’d only serve three.
By the time he heard seven years come from the judge’s mouth, it was too late.
“He’ll be pissed off that I’m trusting you but something tells me that I can.”
“Plus, you’re desperate.”
“And that.” He took a deep breath. “You’ve shown your bravery and your honesty.”
Newt wasn’t sure about the honesty, and the bravery was more stupidity.
“From this point on, you can’t reveal to anyone what I’m going to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“A couple of months ago, my client was making a film when he fell from a cliff. He suffered severe brain damage in the fall. Right-sided hemiplegia and left side hemiparesis. You know what that means?”
Was this a test? “His brain injury was mostly on the left side because that controls movement on the right. He’d have some paralysis on the right side, muscle weakness and impaired coordination. The left side would be less severely affected.”
Max nodded. “Physically, he’s improved a lot.
He broke both arms, both legs, some ribs and suffered internal injuries.
He’s managed to dispense with the crutches but still limps and has a weak right arm.
Unfortunately, in addition to the physical issues, he has significant problems with speaking, listening, reading and writing. ”
Newt winced. “Global aphasia?”
“Yes. He’s having to learn everything from scratch, and he behaves like a petulant child.
He needs regular physiotherapy and speech therapy.
But he’s not very patient. In fact, he’s a fucking nightmare.
He’s sacked almost everyone who’s tried to help him, or they’ve given up.
He dispensed with the first physio but I’m paying for the current one, so he’s stuck with him.
My parents are currently living in his house but they’ve reached the limit of their ability to cope.
Another reason that I’m desperate. I’ve promised them a holiday.
I was going to take over for a while but now you can step in. I have other clients who need me.”
“How famous is he?”
“What do you think?”
“Very? That’s the reason for the NDA. You don’t want the press to find out how bad he is.”
“Not just the press. He doesn’t want anyone to know how bad he is.
Not that he can directly tell me that, but it wasn’t difficult to work out.
I also know he’s frightened and ashamed.
He lashes out, throws things, breaks things.
At times, he’s like a toddler having a tantrum, ranting and raving using words no one understands.
At other times, he sinks into a depression and refuses to get out of bed. ”
“Who is he?”
Max looked around to check there was no one listening. There wasn’t, but he still lowered his voice. “River Lawson.”
Newt let out a choked laugh. “I’ve never heard of him.”
Max’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck? Have I failed as an agent? Everyone should have heard of him.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Why haven’t you heard of him?”
Newt saw his mistake and backtracked. “I’m kidding.”
Max let out a sigh of relief.
“I had you though.” Newt pushed to his feet. “I just need the loo.”
By the time he came back, he’d looked up River Lawson.
He was a good-looking guy. A few years older than Newt.
He hadn’t seen any of his films. It was pointless trying to pretend he had.
But he did recognise the name of the guy’s girlfriend, Dila Fox, an American singer.
Newt liked her music. She was pretty. So was River.
And blond. The sort of dirty blond Newt liked.
“Want another coffee?” Max asked when he got back.
“No, thanks.”
“So is my trust in you well-placed?”
“I won’t let you down.”
“And you can really start now?”
“Once I’ve collected my stuff from the place where I’m staying.”
“Do you have a car?”
“No.”
“I’ll drive you, then take you to River’s house. You’ll be able to use one of his two cars. I think you’ll work out which when you see them. Let me copy your driver’s licence and I’ll put you on the insurance. Any accidents in the last five years?”
“No.”
While Max’s car lingered on double yellow lines outside the hostel, Newt hurried inside. It didn’t take long to grab everything. He handed in his key at the desk and came out with a holdall. A couple of weeks ago, he’d debated whether he needed to buy one, now he was glad he had.
Max got out of the car and opened the boot. “Is that everything?”
“Yes.”
Newt ignored Max’s raised eyebrows and climbed in.
He could have lied and said he had stuff in storage but the fewer lies the better.
He fastened his seat belt and quietly sighed.
It had been a long while since he’d been in the front seat of an ordinary car.
Well, this BMW wasn’t ordinary. It was probably top of the range.
“His house is about twenty miles from here. Do you know the area?”
“Not well. I only moved down from Leeds a few weeks ago.”
He really hoped Max didn’t ask about the city because Newt only knew the prison.
“River’s place is in the middle of the countryside. It’s nice. Has a pool, which you’re free to use.”
Wow. It had been at least eight years since Newt had been swimming.
“The garden’s untidy. Luckily, nothing is growing at this time of year. River is the priority. He’s been reasonably gracious to my parents, because they’re my parents, but I should warn you, he won’t be with you. He’ll be rude, sullen and belligerent. If you’re lucky.”
Oh God. “He’s angry about what happened.”
“At the moment, completely fucking furious. As I said, he cycles back and forth through anger and depression. Just as we think there are signs of improvement, he slides down again and breaks something in the house or sacks someone. That seems to be his usual MO.”
Newt wondered how he managed to sack anyone. “What was he like before the fall?”
“He was fun. A kind, thoughtful guy. Polite to those on set. He made an effort to treat everyone well. Everyone wanted to send him flowers after the accident. I asked them to make a contribution to a charity River supports. He had a rep for being a decent guy. Well, he still does because few people have seen the state he’s currently in. ”
“What’s his prognosis?”
“Physically, he’ll get there. His understanding is pretty good now.
It was hell when he had no comprehension at all, and I get that had to be bloody scary.
We communicated by drawings, though he couldn’t draw.
The doctors say he probably has almost full understanding now, though we can’t be sure.
He can’t speak. Well, he can speak but he can’t easily make himself understood. ”
“How did he manage to sack anyone?”
“I made the mistake of telling him he didn’t need to keep anyone he didn’t like. I thought I was giving him some control back in his life. I wrote You’re fired on a piece of card and mimed what it meant. It was supposed to be a joke but… Well, that’s why I’m paying the physio.”
“They say there’s a two-year window to get speech back after brain damage.”
“That’s exactly what we were told. He wants it back a lot sooner than that. He’s determined yet resistant at the same time. The phrase ‘his own worst enemy’ appears to have been coined for him.”
“Does he want to act again?”