Chapter 62
Aida
‘Come on, sweetie,’ I tell Pip. ‘Just get your blazer on and it’ll all be fine.’
I’m doing that thing where I’m being extra sweet and caring to compensate for how close I’m coming to losing my shit, because I have five more minutes to get the boys out the door for school and there are at least twenty reporters outside my house.
While I couldn’t be more pissed that they’re here, my top priority right now is getting the boys to school on time and with minimal trauma to them.
Not only that, but the WhatsApp group for our street is blowing up with a combination of those who are even more pissed than me that my “headline-worthy antics” are disrupting everyone’s morning and those trying to sort out a temporary guard or two from a private security firm we sometimes use, because I am by no means the only high-profile resident on this street.
Judging from the noise outside, no guard has yet materialised. Why is it that the repeated sound of my own name shouted in that cajoling, persistent manner has me itching to slap someone hard?
That itch grows worse when I look at Pip’s little white face.
This is a kid so wracked with anxiety that we had to tell him Santa didn’t exist two years ago so he’d stop spiralling into hysterics over the idea of a random dude infiltrating our house in the dead of night.
(I get it. It’s a creepy concept, if you think about it too hard.)
‘Why are they standing out there?’ he asks as I feed his blazer up his arms and pull it over his skinny shoulders. This kid is a beanpole. ‘It’s rude.’
‘Because they all want an exclusive with Mummy,’ Kit says breezily from his squatting position as he ties his shoelaces. My youngest loves drama as much as he loves an audience, but the media’s pursuit of our family during John’s women’s “exclusives” was hellish enough to leave all of us scarred.
‘We talked about this, remember?’ I tell Pip. ‘Kit’s right. I have a new TV show coming out, and people are interested in it, so the media has a lot of questions, and those reporters are always looking for an angle no one else has to make their coverage stand out.’
‘Just like you used to do in the field, right, Mummy?’ Kit asks, and I stifle a smile. This kid and his newsroom jargon.
‘Exactly. But I’d like to think I was more courteous than they are, and my stories were very different from the ones they want to report on.
Even so, it’s easiest if you don’t take it personally.
They’re not here to rile you. They’re here to do their job.
Your job is to ignore them, and to go to school, and to get on with your day.
’ I cup Pip’s little face in my hands and stroke my thumbs over his silken cheeks.
‘Will they be here when we get home from school?’ he wants to know.
‘Hopefully not, sweetie.’ I sigh as I turn to the huge mirror in the hallway for one final check. I don’t want any gaunt and drawn headlines today. Neither do I want too many people speculating that I’m way too old and haggard to be hooking up with a guy like Cal.
Hopefully, the amount of makeup I’ve slathered on this morning will do the trick. My lips are perfectly scarlet, and I’m wrapped up in my most gorgeous cream double-faced cashmere coat. I also spent too much time giving myself the perfect blowout this morning.
While I’m used to being judged on my face and body when I’m trying to do a job, this is the first time—my ex-husband’s public philandering aside—that I’ve been judged as a sexual being in my own right.
I grab my oversized sunglasses along with the boys’ schoolbags and football kit and all the other paraphernalia they need for their day.
‘I’m so sorry about this,’ I tell them as I stand with one hand on the door handle and the other holding Pip tightly. ‘I’m gonna get it sorted while you’re at school, okay? Remember what we’ve talked about before? Reporters are like…’
‘Puppies,’ Kit finishes enthusiastically. ‘If you give them a single scrap, they’ll keep coming back to the dinner table for more.’
I shoot him a genuine smile. ‘Right! So don’t engage. Kit, stay behind me. Let’s do this.’
And with that, I swing the door open and we step out into the sunlit crowd.