Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
GEORGIA
My face has been made up by Chastity, who arrived early this morning with Daniel. The makeup is minimal—just enough to stop me looking washed out beneath the lights. I’ve done nothing with my hair other than brush it through and leave it down.
Following Daniel’s advice from yesterday, I’m wearing what I wear most days: leggings, a band tee—today’s artist of choice being Julian Cope, with the words ‘World Shut Your Mouth’ emblazoned across the front.
Was my choice a conscious decision? Absofuckinlutely. Do I care who it offends? Absofuckinlutely not. Despite this, my stomach is in knots, and I feel like I’m either going to throw this morning’s black coffee up everywhere or have it come exploding out of my arsehole.
With a final readjustment to my hair, and a press of powder across Dan’s nose and cheeks, we begin.
“Evening, my little dish cloths! Welcome to a very special edition of Spill the Tea, where my inimitable guest is the fabulous, fantastic, and stunning—can you tell I’m a huge fan?—the truly mythological creature that is Georgia McCarthy King!”
Daniel gives his own little round of applause before fanning his face. There are cameras pointed at both of us, and it was explained to me earlier that they’ll decide in the editing room how and at what moments everything will be stitched seamlessly together.
I sit with a genuine smile on my face, listening to Dan reel off a list of platforms to watch, listen, or follow what’s about to take place.
“Let me start by saying thank you, Georgia. Thank you for this life-altering opportunity, and for graciously allowing us into your home and agreeing to the documentary. Before I crawl up your arse any more, for the sake of clarity, I want to go straight in with a question. Probably one the whole world would like the answer to: why?”
I lick my lips and swallow, but Daniel continues before I can answer.
“Why the interview, why the documentary, why the film?”
Rolling my lips together, I draw a breath in through my nose and slowly release it.
“Control,” I say with a shrug. “When I heard that the rights to a film version of an unofficial biography were being touted around—a biography I haven’t read but have been informed contains many untruths—I decided I’d finally had enough.
” I pause and decide on this rare occasion to follow my husband’s advice and just ‘be myself’.
“Actually, what I thought was, fuck this and fuck them. I’m done with the lies and bullshit.
I’m done with other people making money from telling them, so I spoke with my brothers and asked them to find me good producers, directors, screenwriters, everything and everyone needed to pull something like this together.
Then I sat down for weeks and weeks with the amazing Tori Ryder and basically told her my life story.
She spoke with Marley, Lennon, Jimmie, and Ash at length.
Tom and Billy even agreed to give their input, and eventually we came up with a screenplay. ”
“You barely drew breath while explaining all of that.”
“Yeah, get used to that. My hand gestures also become fully Italian when I’m passionate about a subject.”
“Yep, noticed that, too. So, this project is obviously something you’re passionate about.”
“Absolutely. Not just to finally have my say, to get the truth out there, but to have all of it raise money for the Triple M Foundation rather than having a bunch of greedy, bullshitting bastards make their bank accounts fatter from it.”
“You’re donating everything?”
“Everything. The money I’m being paid for this interview and documentary, and all profits from the film. Marley’s written the soundtrack, along with Conner Reed. They’ve donated their time and talent for free, and it’ll be performed by Distant Echo, my nephew’s’ band.”
“They’re a relatively new set-up. Are they donating, too?”
“They are. They’re new, but they’ve all come from other successful bands. Joe, Elliot, and Fin from Paywall, and Jake from Young and Wild, so they can afford it,” I say with a grin while hoping that it’s true and that none of them are struggling.
“Joe being Joe Layton, son of Marley,” he states.
“None other.”
“A family affair, then?”
I’m not sure if this is a statement or a question, but answer with a resounding, “Yes. I learnt at a relatively young age that, for me, there’s nothing more important. Outside of my husband and kids, my brothers and their wives are my best friends.”
He nods slowly, and I’m loving how he’s thinking about his next question and that nothing has been scripted.
“Speaking of family, I know the film is predominantly about the band, and yours and Sean’s relationship, but does Cam feature at all?
How does he feel about everything? This interview, where we’ll be talking a lot about your past, in a very graphic film about your life, including your marriage to another man.
Cam, your kids, are they okay with what you’re doing? ”
“You think you’d be in our home if we, as a family, didn’t all agree to this?”
“Given the evils your husband is giving me right now, probably not,” he says, displaying his nerves with both a frown and a grimace.
I’m tempted to turn to see my husband’s expression but decide to remain professional and keep talking instead. “Before anything happened, any decisions were made, the very first thing I, in fact, did was talk to my husband. Discuss with him what I wanted to do.”
“Was he on board straight away?”
“No,” I admit. “His first concern, and one that remains, is the impact all of this might have on my mental health. His second was protecting our kids.”
Again, I watch as Daniel slowly nods. “I think that’s what people are probably going to struggle with most…
what they’re going to find hard to believe.
” He draws in a breath. “You’ve shied away from publicity, protected your children from the kind of exposure you had from a young age, lived a very quiet and private life, and now, suddenly, you’re putting it all out there.
Do you understand why the public could call into question your integrity? ”
“Hundred percent, but I think I’ve explained all of that.
I didn’t want some two-bob film being made, telling more lies, that will no doubt be brought to my kids’ attention.
Our kids are adults now. They were told the truth at an age-appropriate level about my life, Cam’s life, and everything about our pasts.
We protected them from what we could until we felt they were old enough to understand, but there has always been arsehole journalists or delightful little fuckers at school—encouraged by their not so delightful parents—who’ve approached our kids and told them things they didn’t need to hear. ”
“Such as?”
I let out a deep sigh and attempt to release the anxiety building in my belly as I recall events.
“Being told at school that I was a groupie shagging rock stars from the age of eleven, that I stole Cam from Harry’s mum, and she was so traumatised, she blew her brains out.
He was nine—just nine—when that happened. ”
Tears burn at my eyes, but I continue. “Can you imagine trying to rebuild the trust, your relationship with a little boy, who, despite knowing that biologically I wasn’t his mum, had called me that from the time he could talk?
He held on to it for a month, withdrew more and more until he confessed to his brother, who told his sisters, who told their dad.
That was when we had to sit them all down and explain how Tamara had died.
We then had to break Harry’s heart just a little bit more by telling him she’d also tried to take his dad out as well as herself.
Do you have any idea the nightmares the kids had after that?
That one of my girls still has nightmares? ”
There’s complete silence in the studio.
“So, the first thing we did after I asked Cam if he was on board was to call a family meeting. We sat the kids down and asked if they’d be okay with the film.
They backed me one hundred percent, because now they’re adults, they know everything, anyway.
It’s my past. Everyone has one.” I shrug.
“And when I was approached to do the interview and documentary, they insisted it could only go ahead if you were involved…”
“No way,” Daniel says with a head tilt and a grin on his handsome face.
“Yep. So, given all of that, I’d like to think we’ve raised well-adjusted, well-rounded children, equipped with the skills to make life’s big decisions. They said yes, and here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“Now, can we get on with the fucking interview? I wanna know what tea you’ve got to spill.” Breaking one of the many rules I’ve been given, I look right at the camera. “I’m about to be as shocked as you lot at some of the shit he’s uncovered, but bring it the fuck on, I say.”
“Let’s do this,” Dan agrees, appearing over my shoulder.