Chapter 3
Three
Ash
Have you seen the new photos?
The ones of him and his wife in the park
Sam
Strolling hand in hand?
Putting on a front of being a perfect couple?
Days after he was caught cheating?
Yes, I’ve seen those
Their fakeness made me want to puke
It’s a publicity stunt
Anyone can see through it
Ash
I’m such an idiot
Sam
We’ve discussed this
You are not the idiot here
HE is the idiot
He is more than an idiot
He’s a disgusting cowardly prick
And if I ever see him I’m going to kick him in the balls
If he even has any balls
Which I doubt
Ash
How could I have been so stupid?
I believed every lie he told me
Sam
Anyone would have done the same!
Ash, this isn’t your fault
Ash
Actually it is my fault
I got caught up in an idea of him
I didn’t know him at all
I’m so embarrassed
Sam
Let me come over tonight and cheer you up?
Or we could go out for dinner? My treat
Ash
In Sainsbury’s earlier, a woman tutted at me
I was reaching for some chopped tomatoes
And she TUTTED at me
I’m nationally hated
It will be a while before I can go out for dinner
Sam
It’s been a few days now, Ash
It might be good for you to get out the flat for a bit
Ash
You know he hasn’t messaged or called
Not once
I lost my job
My reputation is destroyed
And people tut at me in supermarkets
While he strolls happily with his wife through leafy parks
He hasn’t even messaged me to break up officially
Sam
He’s a coward Ash
The lowest of the low
I’m so sorry he did this to you
I hate him
And I meant what I said when I came over the other day
One day, karma will bite him in the arse
Ash
I can’t believe how na?ve I was
The biggest fool in the world
And everyone knows it
Sam
You didn’t do anything wrong!!
You fell for a guy who told you he was single!!
HE IS THE FOOL
Ash
He is a family man who made a mistake
According to what I’ve read
I’m the bad guy
Sam
Stop reading all the shit out there
Miserable people comment miserable things
They don’t know you
They don’t know anything
WE know the truth, that’s what matters
Like I said, what goes around comes around
You’ll come out of this stronger
Ash
It doesn’t feel like it
Sam
I know it doesn’t feel like it now
But this could be a good thing
You should have quit that job ages ago
Ren never appreciated you
If it makes you feel any better,
I hear he’s falling apart without you
Have you looked at any jobs?
Ash
No
Too busy feeling sorry for myself
Sam
I can ask around if you like?
Ash
Thanks but no one will want me now
Oh
I’ve got to go, someone’s at the door
Sam
Call me whenever you need
I’ll come see you soon xxxx
When the doorbell goes, for a fleeting, hopeful moment, I wonder if it might be Chris here to apologise, offer an explanation and beg my forgiveness.
‘Ashley, it’s me,’ comes Mum’s crisp voice over the intercom. ‘Let me in before I shove this guy’s camera lens up his—’
I buzz open the door before she can finish her sentence.
The last thing we need on top of the Chris Courtney drama is my mum getting arrested for smashing a reporter’s camera.
I’m surprised there are any paps still lurking outside my building.
The majority of them have given up hope of getting a picture considering I’ve refused to emerge into daylight since the story broke, except for that one Sainsbury’s trip which I instantly regretted.
But I suppose now that those photos of Chris and his wife playing happy families have been published today, people are keen to see my reaction so the photographers have returned.
I wait by the door until I hear Mum’s footsteps on the stairs getting closer and then open it for her, letting her breeze past me laden with shopping bags, her Jo Malone perfume wafting over me as she goes by.
I follow her into the kitchen as she plonks the bags down on the kitchen counter before turning to take me in.
She puts her hands on my arms and gives me a good look up and down.
‘Uh-oh,’ she concludes.
‘Thanks, Mum, always a great comfort to have you here,’ I grumble, wriggling free of her grasp and going to slump back on the sofa where I’ve set up camp the last few days.
‘Have you been eating?’ she demands to know.
‘I haven’t got much of an appetite.’
‘You have to eat otherwise you’ll die,’ she says bluntly.
‘Very profound.’
‘I mean it, Ash; it’s important. What do you feel like? I got you… well,’ she gestures at the shopping bags, ‘everything. I wasn’t sure what you might want.’
‘Nothing.’
‘We’ll go easy then. I’ll make you some toast. Butter and jam?’ she suggests, beginning to unload the contents of the bags onto the counter.
I shrug.
‘Butter and jam it is. I got you Tiptree,’ she says smugly.
Mum grew up in Witham, Essex, which is down the road from Tiptree. She determines the quality of a hotel on whether it serves Tiptree jam with breakfast. If it does, she’s happy. If it doesn’t, she won’t trust it.
I watch as she busies herself, her natural high level of energy making me feel even more exhausted and useless than before. She’s wearing an all-black tailored three-piece suit and towering heels.
‘Are those Manolos?’ I ask, squinting at her footwear.
‘Yes, they are,’ she replies, opening the fridge. ‘Everyone at work has been pissing me off this week so I’ve been trying to dress with a come-near-me-and-die sort of vibe.’
I almost manage a smile at that.
Ever since I can remember, Mum has never taken any crap from anyone.
She is the toughest, smartest person I know.
Nothing seems to faze or panic her. She has a get-on-with-it attitude and works harder than anyone, which makes her a brilliant TV producer.
She’s never been a cuddly, emotional sort of mum, and I have to admit that there have been times that I wished she were.
But I love that she says it how it is and she’s not afraid of anyone, whoever they are.
Mum has always worked long hours – she knew no one in the TV business when she started out and was never given any help along the way to get a foot in the door, so she’s had to earn every step forward she got.
I admire her work ethic and wish I had that kind of drive, although I think it helps if you know what you’re driving towards.
When she’s done making the toast, she marches over and places the plate down on the coffee table, insisting I take a bite while she sits down on the chair opposite.
‘How are you feeling today?’ she asks as I chew, flicking her thick mane of impossibly glossy brown hair behind her shoulder.
I get my hair colour from my dad, whose family were all redheads.
I don’t have much to do with my father. He and Mum had what she likes to call a ‘tumultuous’ relationship.
They got married quickly after meeting and had my older brother, Jasper.
Dad left and they divorced. They were on and off again for a bit, then off for a long time.
Then they were back on again briefly which resulted in me.
I remember at one point in my childhood, I got lost in this silly romantic notion that the reason they kept coming back together was because they were meant to be.
But I grew up and realised that I wouldn’t want that at all.
My father is ambitious and selfish, and although I have no ill-will towards him – Jasper and I have never needed anyone but Mum – he’s not cut out to be a dad or a life partner.
He travels as much as possible, is never in one place for long, and as far as I know, Mum has been the only serious relationship he’s ever considered.
He currently works as a reporter in Hong Kong and every now and then will send me messages to check in.
It took him over a day to realise I was playing a starring role in the UK media recently, but I did eventually hear from him.
He said he hoped I was all right, to keep my chin up and had I seen the latest Crystal Palace football score – the team were doing surprisingly well.
I think of all the things he left behind here in England, my dad misses the football more than he misses anything or anyone else.
Under Mum’s watchful gaze, I swallow my mouthful of toast.
‘I’m okay,’ I say in answer to her question. ‘The same, really. I haven’t heard anything from Chris still.’
‘I told you you’re not going to,’ she says.
‘His publicity team will be strongly advising against any contact, and I imagine his wife may have set down some rules, too. Plus, he’s a spineless shithead who doesn’t deserve you in his life.
’ Mum glances around my flat and sighs. ‘I don’t know why you’re not staying with me, Ash.
I don’t like you being here on your own while this is going on. ’
‘I like my own space,’ I reason, not giving the full details which is: I like to be on my own so I can rage and cry and drink and check my phone a million times without any judgement. ‘I want to handle this myself.’
‘Yes, but there’s no harm in leaning on people,’ says Mum, who has never leant on anyone her whole life. ‘I don’t think it’s healthy you being cooped up here with nothing to do. You need something to distract yourself from it all.’
I snort. ‘I can hardly apply for jobs right now. People hate me.’
‘You’re not hated; people like to sling mud to feel better about themselves, it’s pathetic,’ Mum says. ‘And I wasn’t necessarily talking about getting a job.’
‘I’m not really in the mood to take up a new hobby, Mum,’ I mutter, attempting another bite of toast.
‘This is not going to define you, Ash. This is one guy. You will move on, I promise.’
‘Will everyone else, though?’ I counter miserably. ‘This story is going to haunt me forever. Stuff online doesn’t disappear. I will always be the girl who Chris Courtney cheated on his wife with.’
‘Sometimes, things that feel like the end can also mark a beginning.’
I narrow my eyes at her. ‘Are you repeating stuff that people say on your show?’
‘Yes, a life coach said that to one of our viewers last week who called in about her business folding.’ Mum tilts her head at me. ‘It’s a positive way of thinking.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not ready to think positively about any of this.’
She watches me carefully and then straightens, as though she’s had an idea.
‘You know what I think? I think you need a change of scenery. You need to get away from everything, go somewhere where this doesn’t feel like such a big deal, somewhere that doesn’t have reporters jumping out at you and lurking around your door, forcing you inside.
The city can feel… claustrophobic. This is the perfect time to get away. ’
‘Yeah, because I’m dumped and unemployed,’ I mutter gloomily.
‘You’re free,’ Mum counters, ‘to do whatever the hell you want.’
‘Where am I going to go? I don’t want to go on holiday on my own, that will make me feel lonelier,’ I reason. ‘Although…’
Mum sits up. ‘What? What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing. Jasper messaged me, that’s all, and said I could stay with him for a bit.’
She brightens. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? It’s perfect. He lives in a beautiful part of the country. There’s no one better to look after you than your brother.’
Jasper is my older brother by quite a gap – ten years in fact – and runs an idyllic country pub in Sussex that he owns with Mum.
We speak a lot, but don’t get to see each other as much as we’d like.
Managing a successful business takes up most of his time and I was always busy here in the city managing Ren.
But since the Chris story exploded, he’s been calling often and messaging in the hope of persuading me to come visit.
He’s a classic country bumpkin in that he thinks the answer to any problem is… the countryside.
‘Country air, long walks, nature,’ Mum rattles off. ‘Very healing.’
‘I guess it would be nice to get away and go somewhere a bit more low-key with fewer people around to tut at me in supermarkets,’ I admit, rubbing my forehead as the idea grows more tempting the more I think about it.
‘Who is tutting at you in supermarkets?’ Mum asks before dismissing it with a wave of her hand. ‘Never mind. Message Jasper now and ask whether he’s happy for you to come tomorrow. I can help you pack.’
‘I can pack myself, Mum,’ I insist, picking up my phone, typing out a message to him and pressing send. I put my phone down again. ‘It’s fine. You don’t need to—’
I’m interrupted by my phone vibrating with a reply from him already.
‘Wow. He says my room is ready and waiting. That was quick.’ I glance up to find Mum beaming at me, delighted with the way this has played out. ‘Guess I’m off to Sussex.’
‘Fantastic.’ She inhales deeply. ‘I have a very good feeling about this, Ash.’