Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
A mber had finished for the day but Rowan was still working so I excused myself for a few moments and secreted myself in my office with my mobile.
I tried to contact Ezra first, but his phone rang out and he didn’t pick up. Either he was busy or he could see it was me calling him and was avoiding me. Undeterred, I then rang his manager, but Denise Gold’s voicemail was activated and despite leaving several messages, she didn’t return my calls.
I then decided to ring Corrie, Denise Gold’s assistant. She’d been so kind and sympathetic when Ezra had decided to cancel my floristry services.
After exchanging pleasantries, she apologised again for Ezra’s decision not to use Flower Power. “I’m so sorry. I felt awful having to tell you. In fact, I was rather dreading it.”
“Honestly, Corrie, please don’t feel bad about it. Ezra had already said he’d changed his mind about using me.” I hoped she’d be able to hear the urgency in my voice. “And I can assure you this call isn’t an attempt by me to try to persuade Ezra to change his mind. But I really do need to speak with him about something else. It’s urgent.”
Corrie made an understanding murmur.
“I know Ezra hates journalists,” I went on. “But this is something where … Ezra’s involvement will benefit him.” I hesitated. I didn’t know that for sure, but I trusted Zach to have Ezra’s best interests at heart. “Can you tell Ezra that I’ll be here at the shop this evening and if he can come by around 6pm, I’ll be waiting with Zach Stern?” I took a breath. “Ezra will know who Zach is. It’s very important.” My chest gave a little heave. “Please emphasise to Ezra that I trust Zach and he should, too.”
Corrie sighed and I heard her scribbling down a note. “Ok. I’ll pass on your message, but I can’t promise he’ll get back to you, let alone show up.” There was a smile wrapped around her words. “You know what a cantankerous old bugger he can be.”
Once I’d hung up, I rang Zach on his mobile and kept him in the loop.
Zach was pleased. “Good work, Bailey. I’ll make sure I finish up this staff exploitation story I’m working on, so I can be with you about five forty-five. Do you think he’ll come?”
I sighed. “I’m not going to get too optimistic. I just hope curiosity gets the better of him.” I took a breath. “I emphasised when I called that I trusted you and that Ezra should too.”
There was a poignant silence down the phone for a few seconds. “You mean that?”
“Yes,” I faltered, breaking into a small smile, even though he couldn’t see me. “I do.”
His voice became like warm butter down the line. “That means a lot to me, Bailey. More than you know. Thank you.”
* * *
I kept Flower Power open for a little longer at the end of the day, before finishing up in advance of Ezra’s possible appearance.
When Zach materialised at the door, he looked somewhat dishevelled, with his shirt creased and his thick hair flopping onto his brow. He must have had a taxing day. But despite not looking his usual dapper self, he was still delectable.
I hoped I wasn’t staring. It felt like I was. “Been a tough one?” I asked.
“Doors shut in my face and frightened staff thinking they can’t speak to me. But I’ll get there.” He gestured around the shop. “No sign of our Mr King yet?”
I closed the door behind him, his long coat billowing behind him in the stiff evening wind. It was approaching 6pm and the hills opposite were invisible in the winter darkness.
I shook my head. “I don’t think he’s coming. To be honest, why would he?”
“You never know.” Zach sat down behind the counter on one of the stools. I hadn’t yet switched off the Christmas fairy lights, which made Flower Power possess a magical quality tonight. It looked cosy and festive. Romantic. Aware that he was watching me, I darted about tidying the shelf under the counter, where we stored Post-it pads and gift wrap.
“You’re a very determined person,” he said.
My hands stilled. “What makes you say that?”
He indicated around himself. “It’s not easy nowadays, running your own business.”
“Careful,” I laughed. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
I raised my bent head from the counter and our eyes met. A sharp knock on the fire door interrupted our conversation.
Zach raised his eyebrows.
I hurried to the back of the shop and unlocked the door.
Ezra was standing on the step, his dark trilby poised at a jaunty angle and a tartan scarf knotted around his neck and partially covering his face. With the tweed coat he was wearing, he looked more like a Guy Richie gangster than a respected thespian.
Jackson waved from the open window of the car.
Ezra regarded me for a moment before stepping inside and removing his hat with his familiar, theatrical flourish. His tone was measured. “Hello, Bailey.”
We looked at one another, both struggling to gauge the atmosphere between us.
“Hello, Ezra.”
The silence crackled, until Ezra’s attention fell on Zach. His face darkened.
“Hello, sir,” said Zach, striding towards him and extending one hand. “I’m Zach Stern, from Stargazer magazine.”
Ezra didn’t reciprocate the handshake. He took a step backwards and flapped his hat at Zach, as though repulsed. “I must be bloody mad. I was in two minds whether to come along, but curiosity got the better of me.” He shot a fierce glare at Zach. “What the hell’s going on, Bailey?”
Zach took a few steps towards Ezra. “Please, sir. You have to trust me.”
Ezra broke into peels of sarcastic laughter. “I’ll do no such thing.”
I jumped in between them. “Please, Ezra. Just hear Zach out.”
Ezra’s distinguished features were all suspicious. He narrowed his laser-like eyes at Zach. “All right then, young man. What is this about? Tell me at once!”
I gestured to Ezra to take a seat. “Please, Ezra.”
Ezra fingered the brim of his hat in both hands. “I want to know what’s going on right now or I’m leaving.” He eyed Zach again and then cast me a withering look. I was definitely still in the bad books, maybe even more so now.
I straightened the cuffs of my jumper and nodded at Zach to speak.
“I understand you have two daughters that you only recently found out existed.”
I snapped my head round. What?!
“Zach!” I hissed. “What are you doing? You said you would keep the girls out of this.” Dread pooled in my stomach. How could I have been so stupid! I’d trusted him. I couldn’t believe this!
Ezra’s expression mirrored mine – absolute horror and shock. “Did you do this?” he asked me, icily. “Did you tell him?”
“No.” I blanched under his gaze. “Zach found out about them on his own.” I glared at Zach.
Zach jumped in. “That’s true, sir. Bailey’s gone to great lengths to protect you.”
Ezra drank in my concerned expression. His head whizzed from me to Zach and back again. “Then what the bloody hell do you want?”
“Yes, what the bloody hell are you doing, Zach?” I ground out, firing blazing looks at him again.
Zach was quick to answer. “Please, Bailey. Hear me out. It’s not what you think.” He transferred his attention back to Ezra. “You made some revelations in your book about the time you spent as a fashion model at the beginning of your career, is that right?”
Ezra let out an exasperated sigh. “What of it?”
“You’ve also named and shamed certain individuals in the TV and film industry. There are some big hitters from the past listed in there.”
Ezra straightened his shoulders. “Well, at least you’ve read my memoir, if nothing else,” he said, dryly. “And those bastards deserved it. Everything I’ve said in that book is true.”
“I’m sure it is,” nodded Zach. “That’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“It appears you’ve upset a few people in your autobiography and they want to draw attention away from your book, and damage your reputation and credibility in order to cast doubt on your claims.”
A slow burn of apprehension took over Ezra. “Meaning?”
“Meaning they’ve no qualms about getting to you through your daughters. I’m trying to warn you about what these people are capable of. Believe me, I’ve no intention of writing anything about your daughters.” Zach gave me a soft smile. “I promised Bailey I wouldn’t.”
A wisp of breath caught in my throat. The way Zach was looking at me…
He faced Ezra again. “And as for the recent unfortunate event you were said to be embroiled in…”
Ezra’s expression twisted. “Not guilty,” he said. “Malicious gossip, that’s all.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sure of that.”
Zach filled me in. “Mr King was accused of stealing the script of the next Brad Janson movie. It went missing while Ezra and several high-powered Hollywood executives were dining out in London a few months ago.”
Ezra’s face was like granite. “I would never do such a thing.” He sighed. “I’ve been up for a few parts in a number of his previous movies, but I never quite hit the mark, despite my experience. I’ve never liked the man, but in this industry, you have to try and stay professional wherever you can, otherwise it bites you on the derrière.” Ezra shrugged. “I thought it strange Janson didn’t want to involve the police when the script went missing.”
Zach nodded. “That fits. One of the executives tipped us off about what happened. Everybody in attendance that night was keen to portray Mr King as the guilty party, including Brad Janson.” Zach paused. “But I’ve since discovered that Mr Janson isn’t who he says he is.”
Ezra’s brow furrowed. “Interesting.”
Outside Flower Power, the winter night was wrapping itself around everything, enveloping us with a surprising sense of camaraderie.
“Mr King, in your career, have you ever come across a man by the name of Kenneth Braid?”
It only took a few seconds for Ezra to consider this. “Good grief. Yes, I have. Kenneth Braid was one of the seedy lowlifes who exploited the models at the agency I worked for when I started out.”
“And you’ve spoken about him in your autobiography.”
Ezra nodded, while I just listened.
Zach eyed Ezra. “What if I told you that Brad Janson’s real name was Nicholas Braid?”
Ezra’s head snapped from me to Zach and back again. “They’re related?”
“Yep. He’s Kenneth Braid’s son. It looks like he arranged for that script to be stolen, so that you would be discredited and so would the revelations you make about him in your autobiography.”
Ezra let out a furious gasp. “Good grief. I’ve had entertainment industry friends begin to shun me since this nonsense happened. It’s been most unpleasant. A real whispering campaign. That’s when I knew I had to get away.” His jaw ground. “Well, when I say friends…”
Zach shook his head. “Brad doesn’t care if he ruins Mr King’s career by protecting his father. In fact, that was his aim, until we leant on one of the executives from that night and he told us everything. We just have to confirm a few things, before we go to print on a story that exposes them , not you.”
“This is insane,” breathed Ezra. He rubbed his craggy face and stared around himself at Flower Power’s interior. He let out a desperate groan. “Dear God! What do we do now?”
Zach turned to me. “It’s not only Brad Janson who has a vested interest in having Mr King’s book discredited. There are others. And according to my sources, they’re prepared to do just about anything to make that happen.”
I rose up from my seat and leant on the counter, mad thoughts hurtling through my head.
“Well, whatever these cretins have up their sleeve, I’m not prepared to curtail my life just to suit them. I have a small, private party taking place on New Year’s Eve at my home,” said Ezra, haughtily.
“Do you think that’s wise?” asked Zach.
Ezra shrugged. “What else can I do? Cave into their demands? It’s not like I’m inviting all of the acting fraternity; just a few of my closest friends and entertainment and publishing associates.”
I tried not to smile. It didn’t sound too small a soirée from where I was standing.
While Ezra and Zach’s voices melted around me, I desperately wanted to help Ezra, and an idea was nudging its way to the forefront of my mind.
It could well be risky, Ezra holding his Hogmanay get-together at his home here in Heather Moore. Bannock House, however, would be a perfect alternative. Holding it there meant we could control the security, the guest list, everything. Ezra would still be throwing his party, but just at a different location. There was only one giant snag in that plan.
I’d lose my anonymity. I’d have to come clean about who I was.
I swallowed, trying to muster as much courage as I could. I knew I couldn’t keep my past life a secret anymore. I had to accept that my past was part of me, but that it didn’t have to define me. Running away wasn’t a solution. I’d been deluding myself for too long. And anyway, I didn’t want to keep deceiving Zach. It had begun to feel wrong now – deceitful, in some way.
I’d been very lucky to hide my past for as long as I had. Wouldn’t it be better if Zach heard it from me, rather than some stranger?
All the stress of hiding was squeezing the breath from me. I couldn’t continue living like this. It had taken this precarious situation with Ezra to make me realise what I had to do. He’d looked so cornered when he learnt that Zach had first arrived here in Heather Moore, and I didn’t want to feel like that. I wanted to be strong and capable. I wanted to be free.
I took a breath and pushed out the words before I could change my mind.
“Ezra, your party is supposed to be taking place at your home.”
“Yes, that’s right,” faltered Ezra.
I shook my head. “I suggest you invite your friends over to my family home. I don’t think holding it at your place is a good idea. Not when you consider what your book contains and these people could well have discovered your address by now anyway.”
I carried on, aware that both Ezra and Zach were studying me with confused expressions. “If these people realise you’re not going to surrender to their threats and redact the stories about them in your book, things could turn nasty. At least this way, you just invite your small gathering to my family home and there’s no need to draw attention to where you live here.”
Zach jerked his head to look at me as though I’d lost all sense of reality. “Your family home?” he repeated. “I’m confused. You mean your flat upstairs?”
I shook my head. “No.” Then I fetched my laptop from its leather case under the counter. I set it up and twisted it round for both of them to see the screen and typed Bannock House into the search engine. My heart was jumping. I felt sick.
I clicked on one photograph and enlarged it. The solid grey stone of my family home filled the screen.
“Whoa!” Zach said, laughing. “That’s some place. Where’s that?”
I looked down, my cheeks hot. “That’s my family home.”
Ezra studied the screen. “Good grief. Are you serious?”
Zach gawped at me. “That’s where you live?”
“It’s where I grew up, with my parents and Marcus. My mum and dad still live there.”
If I was going to do this, I had to do it properly. No more secrets. No more hiding. In a way, it would be a release. No half measures.
I took a big gulp of air and typed in the words Lady Anastasia McLaren-Kerr.
The screen shimmered before dozens of images of me in slinky gowns at various events popped up. There was me posing with Declan, me tear-stained and jilted on my wedding day, me with various celebrity friends at parties.
I didn’t dare look at Zach.
Headlines raced across the screen.
IRISH CHARM ON THE LADY’S ARM; LADY ANASTASIA GETS ENGAGED; BOLLINGER BABE IN LOVE; WEDDING DAY WOES FOR JILTED LADY A– BOLLINGER BABE ARISTO DUMPED AT THE ALTAR; CONNED BY HER IRISH ROVER – LADY ANASTASIA DUPED AND DUMPED…
It was odd to see these pictures again now. I didn’t recognise myself as the woman in the photos. It didn’t seem like me. It didn’t feel like me. Not anymore. And I was so glad.
Ezra appraised the images on screen as he perched on the edge of the stool. He angled round to look at me, a stunned expression in his eyes. He looked at the pouting blonde and then back at me again. “Oh, my goodness! It’s you. You’re Lady Anastasia.” He stared at the photographs of me looking thinner and with swishy, long blonde hair.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. This was like a therapy session. I hadn’t known what to expect, but I hadn’t expected this. It was like shrugging off chains, feeling the hard, cold sensation sliding away. An element of relief flooded through my system.
“It was me,” I clarified, the heat rising in my cheeks. “But not anymore.”
I don’t know what I expected Zach to say.
I knew he would be surprised. Shocked, even.
What I hadn’t expected was the depth of the wounded look in his dark eyes, like he didn’t know who I was. White-hot needles of pain seared through my heart.
He pointed at the array of images of me filling the screen. His voice was flat. “Is this a joke? That’s you? That party girl? The runaway aristocrat?”
“I didn’t run away,” I blurted. “I started over.” I fiddled with the laptop trackpad for something to do. “But yes. I’m Lady Anastasia McLaren-Kerr.”
Zach drank in the shots of Bannock House again on my laptop screen. “And that stately home is yours?”
“It’s my parents’,” I answered, struggling to look at him.
Zach’s confused gaze ran over me, before returning to the screen. His puzzled expression focused on one of the photos of me on my wedding day, waiting for Declan to show up at the church.
I switched onto one of the pictures of Bannock House again.
Zach rubbed at his jaw, trying to unscramble what I’d just told him. He looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. “So, your parents…?”
I flashed a sideways glance at Ezra. “My parents are Earl and Countess Tweed Muir…”
I clenched my hands into fists by my side and then released them. “I never felt like an Anastasia. Bailey was the middle name of my grandmother and I always liked it.” I couldn’t look at Zach. I steadied my voice and carried on. “I opted for the surname McArthur, after one of my favourite floristry instructors at college, Katie McArthur.”
I took a breath. “And yes, I was supposed to marry Declan, who I suspect was the person who waylaid your editor that day.” I hoped my voice didn’t betray the hammering in my chest. The trouble with opening a box of secrets was that they were all tumbling out at the same time. “His name is Declan Rooney. You probably remember the story. He conned me out of a lot of money and then jilted me at the altar. He vanished into thin air until he spoke to your editor in town.”
Ezra offered me a fleeting smile of sympathy.
I felt sick. I so wanted Zach to believe me and hear what I was saying. I tried to compose the words jumping around in my mind. “I obviously thought Declan felt the same way about me as I did about him, but he didn’t. He used me as a walking cashpoint, a stupid idiot who could be manipulated and squeezed for absolutely everything I had.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “He told me all about this wonderful charity that he was setting up to support kids from underprivileged backgrounds. He said his aim was to help them break into the music industry. I invested in it – or at least, I thought I did.”
“But he pocketed the money and then scarpered,” concluded Ezra.
“Yes. On what was supposed to be our wedding day.”
I bawled up one fist. “I wish I hadn’t been so blind, so na?vely trusting.”
Zach took charge of the laptop and clicked on a photograph of Declan and me sipping champagne at some charity event. Declan was grinning like a great white shark, as though he couldn’t believe his luck.
I rubbed at my arms. “Because of Declan and my own stupidity, I lost everything – at least it felt that way. I lost money of course, but I lost my self-respect, my ability to be open and vulnerable with people. It took a long time to rebuild myself.”
I clasped and unclasped my hands in front of me. “I recently travelled to Glasgow to see if I could find Declan and speak to him. I wondered if I could reason with him, more fool me. I spoke to someone else who he’d conned too, but they hadn’t seen him.”
I got a waft of Zach’s delicious woody scent beside me. Pain gripped his handsome face. “And you’re only telling me all this now? I thought…”
His wounded expression tore at my insides, but I was also determined to stand up for myself.
“You don’t have an automatic right to all my most intimate secrets just because you showed up on my doorstep asking questions! I worked hard to give myself a fresh start, and to become someone I’m proud of. You don’t get to come here and demand a piece of me like you’re entitled to it! I’m Bailey McArthur. End of.” I turned and jabbed my finger at another photo of myself with my brother and parents, taken about ten years ago. “Can you really not understand why I wanted to lay low, start again without the past hanging over me? If I’d told you, a journalist I still don’t know that well, I’d have been insane! It’s no one’s business but mine.”
My voice cracked but I swallowed and fought to keep my composure.
“My mother is so good at all that. She embraces it and it embraces her. She knows her role and she excels at it. I always wanted to be like her – and for a while, I thought I was good at it too, but I’m not and never will be. And that’s fine. I like who I am now. Finally.”
Ezra’s brows bunched together and it felt like he understood me and empathised with me. This celebrated and talented actor, standing in my shop, understood me! Zach, however, was another matter.
He turned away from me and stormed out into the street.
“Zach. Wait!” I shouted after him, following him to the shop door. “Zach, please, talk to me.”
The street lamps were thronged like orange stars against the backdrop of inky sky out in the street and I shivered without my coat on.
“I thought we were getting closer,’ he said, rounding on me. ‘But now I feel humiliated.’
“That’s never been my intention!” I breathed hard. “Can’t you see that it’s not about you ? None of this is about you . I was protecting myself.” I closed my eyes for a moment in frustration. “Zach, I’m sorry you feel hurt by this but I’m not sorry I lied.” I looked back at my shop, at everything I had worked so hard to build, and I felt at peace. “I’ve had enough of looking over my shoulder, and I’m strong enough now to face the person I used to be and the mistakes I made in the past without it destroying me. But I won’t let anyone break me again – including you. And I won’t be judged for protecting myself against gossipy tabloid journalism!”
My words vanished into the darkness.
Zach was striding away from me. “I thought I was beginning to get to know you, Bailey. Or Anastasia, or whoever you are. I thought you were different. Open. Principled. The real deal.” He swallowed. “I even thought I was falling for you.” He let out a dry laugh. “The thought scared the hell out of me, but I knew I couldn’t ignore it. Even securing some big exclusive didn’t matter anywhere near as much as you.” He shook his head ruefully. “Just goes to show. Some journalist I am.”
“If that’s how you feel, then maybe you’re not the person I thought you were either.”
He snapped his mouth shut but I could tell he was furious.
Well, let him be furious. I’m pretty mad too.
All I could do was watch him through a tearful haze as he disappeared around the corner to his car.
“Oh, Bailey, I’m so sorry,” said Ezra. “When I returned inside the shop, I couldn’t help overhearing that…”
“Thank you. At least I know you won’t judge me,” I said, giving Ezra a weak smile and propping my chin on my hand as I leant on the counter. Tears burned in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. “At the beginning, I had no intention of telling Zach anything. But then I began to get to know him and I wanted him to know the real me.” I blinked back my emotions. “But then he started trying to track me down, after sodding Declan spilled his guts to Zach’s editor and it just made everything so complicated and messy and there was no way for both of us to get what we wanted.” I turned back to Ezra, willing him to understand. “I didn’t want anything sitting between us, but to trust him … after everything … I just couldn’t.”
An echo of a smile played around Ezra’s wide mouth. “You like him. A lot.”
I nodded. “I do. But it’s not like he’s told me anything about himself either. I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
Ezra studied me with his questioning stare. “Does anyone here know? Have you told the two young ladies who work for you who you are?”
I gave a fierce shake of my head.
“I thought as much.”
We fell into a considered silence again.
I looked at him from under my tear-pricked eyelashes.
“It’s hard to start over somewhere new when you want people to see you for who you have become and not for what you did in the past. I should know,” Ezra said with a sympathetic smile. “But if I’ve learnt anything from hiding away up here, it’s that you can never really escape your past. And nor should you wish to. After all, we are who we are because of it. I’m proud of you, Bailey, and I hope I have the same courage when the time comes for me to face my own past.”
I felt the tears start to trickle down my face.
As Ezra turned to depart through the fire door at the back of the shop, he squeezed my hand. “Have an early night, dear, and we can talk again in the morning and get arrangements moving with regard my Hogmanay party. That’s if your parents are all right with it being held at their home.”
“Are you joking?” I tried to laugh through the tumult of emotions. “My mother will be beside herself with joy.”
“Well, as long as you’re sure.”
I nodded.
Ezra flicked me a look. “I’m sorry about what happened between us.” He pulled a face. “I was terrified by the threat of the scandal hanging over me. I thought no one would believe me. I thought it would overshadow everything else I’ve done in my career.”
“I know what you mean. And I’m sorry too.”
Ezra hesitated at the fire door and smiled. “I know it isn’t much notice, Bailey, but if you have the time and the resources, I would very much like to reinstate you as my florist. The regular service for my home?”
I blinked at him through damp lashes. “Seriously?”
“Of course. If it’s not too much to ask?” He smiled. “And if we can make it work, I’d like you to do the flowers for New Year’s Eve, too. If your parents won’t mind that?”
“I… I’m sure they’ll be delighted,” I said. “Ezra, I don’t know what to say. Thank you. We can handle it. I’ll have to get Rowan and Amber to help me. It’ll mean all hands on deck.”
“Well, I shall leave it in your capable hands.” Ezra patted me on the shoulder in an avuncular fashion. “If that young man has a problem with who you are – or who you were – then it’s up to him to address it and deal with it.” He indulged me with one of his famous, lopsided smiles. “And if he’s unable or unwilling to do that, then it’s his loss.” He plonked his hat back on his head. “I’m grateful to you for contacting me, Bailey. I wouldn’t blame you for not having anything more to do with this grouchy old sod.”
I laughed, despite how wretched I was feeling.
I knew Ezra had been married three times, but he told me again anyway. “I’ve always been a selfish old bugger, used to getting my own way.” A glimpse of regret crossed his face. “I’ve never been father material. I guess as you get older, you become better able to accept your limitations.”
He was trying to justify to himself, and to me, why he’d decided not to get involved with Caroline and Laura.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’d make a wonderful dad.”
“You have a very kind heart, young lady.”
He turned his dashing face up to the night sky and savoured the tossed array of stars. “I took out my frustration and fear about those girls being my daughters on you and I’m sorry. I hope you can accept this old goat’s apology.”
“Of course,” I croaked. Now, it was my turn to apologise. “I shouldn’t have interfered. I thought I was doing the best for you, and for them.”
“Sometimes, you just have to do what you think is right at the time.”
I took his hand and gave it a squeeze, and then watched him vanish into the night with a gallant tip of his trilby.
Once he’d gone, I pressed my back against the door.
What an evening!
I was so glad to have sorted things out with Ezra, but the ball of injustice regarding Zach rolled around inside of me. Why was he acting like I’d purposely tried to humiliate him, hurt him? What would he have done if I’d told him who I was right away? He’d have gone immediately to print with some salacious story about me in Stargazer .
Sure, I’d had opportunity to tell him more recently. But the time had never felt quite right. And besides, I still didn’t know Zach that well … it was him who was putting a barrier up, not me. I didn’t know much about him at all. At least nothing that really mattered.
Except his smouldering eyes, his tall, muscular body, and the kindness that had been showing itself lately.
But Zach still hadn’t explained why he was working for Stargazer magazine, when he had a CV bursting with previous employment at some of the biggest and most auspicious newspapers.
Being born into my family wasn’t a criminal offence! It wasn’t like I’d asked for it to be bestowed upon me. It was an accident of birth.
Whereas Marcus was older and would inherit pretty much everything, I’d always known I would have to go a different route. Heather Moore and Flower Power had allowed me to do that. As a teenager, I’d rebelled and become a party girl, but I was older now, and it was a relief to stop socialising with people who I knew weren’t real friends. They’d clung to me like needy children, simply because of my connections. They didn’t have the first idea about why I loved plants so much, or know that I was driven by an entrepreneurial spirit. They didn’t care that I was afraid of moths or that I loved true crime podcasts. All they saw was a ticket into the best parties and a chance of getting their photograph in the papers.
I’d said this to Declan on more than one occasion, but he’d just shrugged and said, “Everybody uses everybody else, honey.”
Well, not me.
I hooked a stray hunk of hair behind my ear as I allowed my new perspectives free rein to dance in my head. I looked so different. I felt so different.
And I was glad.
I drained my cup of tea and leant towards my laptop, which was perched on the coffee table in front of me.
I realised that I liked myself. What I’d said in the heat of the moment to Zach was true. I was proud of all I had achieved, and I didn’t regret it. I had learnt how to stand up for myself. I wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of me again – I wouldn’t let them use me. I just wished Zach could see the real me too.
My fingers loitered for a few seconds above the keyboard. Zach’s bitter words kept turning over and over in my head.
What’s he hiding? Why’s he working for Stargazer ? It’s possible that the magazine might have headhunted him and dangled a huge pay cheque in front of his eyes, but Zach didn’t seem the type to compromise his beliefs for the sake of cash.
I recalled his genuine anger at the exploitation of staff at the fruit farm he’d been investigating. No. Something wasn’t right.
I typed Zach’s name into the search engine and sat back in my PJs. I’d looked him up before, but decided to do a more thorough examination this time.
Whatever his problem was with me, I hoped he would still continue to help Ezra. I didn’t want him to have to be afraid of his past catching up with him, like I was.
I rubbed my gritty eyes. I was wrung out emotionally.
I shuffled my bottom further forward. Several pictures of Zach emerged, showing him at a couple of newspaper award ceremonies in London and New York, dressed in black tie. He looked so confident and dashing.
Another sharp pain jabbed me in the chest, but I dismissed it.
I tried to bury the festering hurt and moved onto the next page, working my way through the various articles he’d written. They included high-profile court reports and interviews with shady figures in the crime world. I noticed the words Exclusive by Zach Stern appear again and again. It was obvious he was a first-class journalist and thrived on what he did – and that what he did was not celebrity gossip. It was important work. It mattered.
I clicked onto the following page, making my way down reams of articles he’d written. There were more striking photos of him and impressive bylines from a variety of prestigious newspapers. My laptop screen flickered as headline after headline shimmered in front of my eyes.
Then I sat up straighter.
I noticed that Zach’s name was mentioned several times in an email chain on a free speech website. The message exchanges were from a couple of years ago.
I scanned the email chain:
Hi there. I have a potential lead on a land acquisition scam involving local councillors. I’m sure Zach Stern on the London Inquirer would be the go-to journalist for a story like this, but I haven’t seen his byline in the paper recently?
Thanks
Adam S
Hi Adam.
No, you wouldn’t have done. Apparently, Zach Stern no longer works for them.
Betty H
Hi Betty,
Really?! Do you know why? Funny, as I don’t remember seeing anything about his departure in the paper.
Adam S
Good morning, all,
Sorry to jump in, but what Betty said is unfortunately true. Zach Stern is no longer a reporter on that paper.
My sister’s best friend works in another department there and she heard he was let go – some sort of misconduct breach.
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,
Harry D
I shot forward and read over the messages again. Misconduct breach?
But why? What was he supposed to have done?
I sank back against my sofa, letting this sink in.
I leant forward again and scrawled through the next few pages on my laptop screen, but there was no more mention of Zach or why the newspaper had let him go.
If this was true, what on earth had he done that had led to the newspaper dismissing him?
I chewed the inside of my mouth.
If Zach had committed a sackable offence, then that would explain a lot. It would explain why he was so evasive about his personal life and career move to Stargazer , and it would explain why he was so closed off when I asked him anything.
The more I thought about it all, the more it was starting to make sense. That must have been why Zach quit his life in London and came up to Scotland. Whatever had happened at the London Inquirer he wanted to leave behind. I wasn’t the only one trying to escape a previous life. Ezra King, and now Zach, too…
Was becoming a gossip columnist Zach’s way of trying to move on after his dismissal from that newspaper? It still seemed an odd choice for him, and it still left me wondering why he was let go.
I picked up my mobile from the coffee table and stared down at the dark screen for a moment. I’d no idea what I was planning to say, but the desire to speak to Zach was too irresistible a force to ignore.
My breathing galloped harder as I pulled up his number and dialled. I waited for him to answer, but he didn’t pick up. I frowned as it went straight to voicemail.
I moved to say something and stopped. What to say? I would have to admit that I had been stalking him online because only a deep dive had revealed this. When I had googled him previously, none of this had come up on the first few pages of results.
He probably didn’t want to speak to me anyway.
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, desperate to say something coherent. In the end, I hung up.
I peered at the clock on my laptop screen. It was coming up for 8pm.
Still clutching my mobile, I returned to my contacts page and sought out Mum’s number. Her regal-looking image loomed at me on the screen while I waited for her to pick up.
I couldn’t control whatever was happening with my feelings for Zach, but I could do something about helping Ezra. It would also keep me busy and my mind occupied.
I still felt conflicted about Jacob and Samuel now that she’d told me she’d essentially paid them to do a disappearing act. The least Mum could do in return was help me with this.
The beginning of the call was stilted. We both danced around one another. But once I assured her that I hadn’t revealed anything to Marcus about Samuel accepting the money, things seemed to thaw between us. No sooner had I mentioned the words Ezra King , party , and Bannock House in the same sentence, Mum was salivating down the line. There was one point where I thought she was about to spontaneously combust.
“But of course, sweetie!” she gasped. “You assure Mr King he’s more than welcome to hold his gathering here.”
“Right. Good. Thanks, Mum. I’ll ring Ezra now and confirm that with him.” I paused. “He’s asked me to do the floral arrangements for his house and for the party.”
There were a few beats of silence. “Seriously? You?”
I rolled my eyes heavenwards. “Yes, Mum. Me. Your florist daughter. Flower Power. As shocking as that might sound.”
* * *
“Then everything’s good to go,” Ezra said when I rang him moments later and told him about my Mum almost biting my hand off about staging his do at our family home. “At least that will give me something to look forward to, after all this debacle with my autobiography. And no one should need an excuse for a little party!” He hesitated. “Now, you’re sure you feel up to supplying me with flowers for my house and for my do on Hogmanay?”
I reassured him. “I want to keep busy, so I don’t dwell on what a mess I’ve made of everything.” I sighed as thoughts of Zach took hold again.
“That’s the spirit,” agreed Ezra down the line. “Before all this carry-on, I’d been planning a big Hogmanay party, partly to celebrate the success of my book, but on reflection, this is a much more sensible idea.”
“I think so too. I’ll fire off an email to Corrie with a link to Bannock House so they can see the venue for themselves. And at least that’ll keep your team in the loop.”
Ezra’s voice was caring, which made me feel even worse. “That’s a great idea. Thank you. And how are you feeling?”
“If you want the truth, I feel like I’ve been put on a spin cycle.”
I could sense Ezra giving me one of his charming smiles. “I recall the time I danced on top of a table bar in Mexico with Farrah Fawcett. Now that was some evening!”
I wasn’t sure what that had to do with Zach and me, but it put a smile on my face and for that, I was grateful.
Once I finished speaking to Ezra, I emailed Corrie at Ezra’s management agency, with a link to the Bannock House website, as I’d promised.
I didn’t expect Corrie to reply but she did almost straight away. Exclaiming in her email, Wow! Talk about grand. It’s perfect.
I replied back: There’s no need to worry as my mother makes lists about lists and is one of the most fiercely organised people I know. Ezra’s also asked me to arrange the flowers for this and for his home. It’s a bit of a long story.
Corrie’s further email response made me smile. Well, I’m glad to hear that. But honestly, if I have to work with any more temperamental showbiz types, I think I’ll end up losing my mind!
I then texted Mum, who replied back seconds later, assuring me I wouldn’t have to concern myself with anything except the floral displays and that she would see to the catering arrangements.
Zach continued to hover at the corners of my mind again. He hadn’t made any attempt to text or call since I’d told him who I was. He was off licking his wounds, I supposed. We’d both been hiding things, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t at least be friends.
Steeling myself, I rang his number. I would tell him about Ezra’s gathering definitely taking place at my home. Maybe this would be a good excuse for us to talk, now that things had calmed down a little.
My heart travelled up to my throat and wedged itself there. He wasn’t picking up again.
I was on the verge of hanging up, when there was a click and a hesitant, “Hi.”
I squirmed on the sofa. “Er. Hi. It’s Bailey.”
I decided to stick to safe ground – this conversation would be about Ezra. “I wanted to let you know that everything has been confirmed about Ezra’s party. It’s going to be held at Bannock House on Hogmanay. My mum’s thrilled.” I paused and then decided to go for it. “Do you think you might come along?”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure.” There was an edgy silence. “I’m not sure what I’ll be doing then. I’ll be leaving Heather Moore soon, anyway.”
My breathing stilled. “You’re leaving? When?”
“Don’t know exactly. Once this staff exploitation story is wrapped up, so maybe in a few days.” There was a charged pause. “My head’s all over the place right now.”
Mine too , I thought.
When I went to bed that evening, my heart felt like a lead weight.
It hurt to think I might never see him again.