Venus Was Her Name, page 29
Oliver looked like he was going to cry and when Ace glanced over at his family, they were all in fits of laughter because, like him, they knew Joe was on one, and loving every minute of it. It was at this point, panic-stricken Oliver attempted to wind things up.
‘Okay folks, I think that’s all for today. Everyone, if you’d like to take your last shots…’ He was interrupted by Joe who’d raised his hand and all eyes focused on the big guy himself.
‘Hold yer horses, Ollie, I haven’t finished yet. There’s something I want to say.’ He then pointed to a cameraman who was wearing a baseball cap. ‘Oi, mate, hat-man – is that thing switched on?’ The cameraman laughed and gave Joe the thumbs up.
Ace’s heart was in his mouth, and he quickly looked over to Lance who shook his head, clearly as bemused as he, and then to Edie whose eyes were wide, asking ‘what’s he going to say now?’ They were about to find out.
Looking straight into the camera, Joe leant further forward; the hush was unprecedented, and expectation in the room was off the scale, Ace could feel it zipping through the air. ‘I’m sorry, Ollie, mate, for going off on one, but there’s something I need to say to all the people out there who’ve been upset, or angry about the stuff they’ve read in the papers or seen on the telly. It wasn’t nice, in fact a lot of it was bloody awful, shameful. I’m talking about me now, not the lads here,’ he gestured to Steve and Chaz, ‘this isn’t about them. It’s just me, talking to you.’
Everyone waited as Joe scratched his whiskers, thought a minute before speaking. ‘When I started off in this game I was seventeen, a big daft lad from Manchester who dreamt of fame and fortune, having a private box at the football, getting pissed and laid a lot and thanks to a lot of luck, plus my immense talent and good looks,’ he paused a second while the laughs from the stalls died down, ‘when I was twenty-three, my dream came true.
‘But it’s come at a cost and that’s what I want to say sorry for; the things I regret, the stuff I can’t change. I took too many drugs and that was fucking stupid so any kids watching this, don’t be a dick like me, okay?’ He pointed his finger at the camera, talking to a boy or girl he’d never get to meet but hoped was listening. ‘I drank too much, too, and it’s not a good look. It rots your brain and other important bits so listen to your mams and dads cos they’re right.’
Joe paused and Ace sensed that his dad was about to blow the room up. ‘But this is the hardest part to say, the bit that hurts me the most, kills me right here,’ he touched his chest, ‘it’s the chance that somewhere along the line I might have broken someone’s heart, that I might have slept with a lady, many ladies who I can’t remember, not their faces, or their names, where we were or what we did and that’s bad.
‘I’m so pissed off with that daft lad, the bloke I was, for sleeping around, being so out of it on one thing or the other, for being the person I wouldn’t want my sons to be, or the kind of man my daughter or granddaughter could meet.’
Ace’s heart lurched and mutters filled the room, people asking questions under their breath which Joe ignored.
‘But as much as I admit to all that, I want you to know this. I would never knowingly hurt a woman. On my life, from my heart, as God is my witness. I just wouldn’t. And I wish I could change the past, put things right, start over but I can’t. So, if there’s anyone out there that I made sad, if I made you cry or let you down, please know this.
‘The fact I can’t remember your name, or your face or where we were or what we did, that is my shame, not yours. It’s my fall from grace, my burden to carry, not yours. Hold your head up high and know that I am so very, very sorry and if I can, through Venus, I will try to make it right.’
Epilogue
New York
Eighteen months later
* * *
Edie’s back was aching, and she was so glad that the journalist’s questions had come to an end so she could relax and take a moment to watch the scene before her.
Ace had sloped off with the excuse that he wanted to take some shots of the crowd outside the bookstore and the queue that trailed along the shopping mall. It was okay for Joe who had been sat on his bum for the past hour, signing books and chatting to a very long line of adoring fans, mainly women who strained their necks to get a look, long before it was their turn to go up to the desk.
It was really very tedious, the publicity tour but, as Clarissa, Joe’s agent had explained, it was imperative that Edie answered a few questions too. Everyone was just as interested in the person who had written the book with Joe. And if he hadn’t buggered off, Ace, too.
That was why Edie had to go it alone, look interested, and agreed that Bobbie and Joe’s love story was incredibly moving, and yes it was wonderful for his fans to finally put a face to the muse who had inspired his first album. She’d gritted her teeth and tried to move the journalist along when she’d mentioned the revelation in the book, that told how Edie and Ace met.
It wasn’t the whole truth though, that remained in the family, their secret. The version in the book said that Ace and Edie had met by pure chance, and when Bobbie realised who he was, the story of her and Joe, and their supermodel daughter came out. It still made Edie squirm slightly because regardless of the genealogy, the press never could resist stating the obvious. They’d learned to ignore the spin and headline-grabbing tag-lines – Joe Jarrett’s son and granddaughter expecting a baby! In fact, Edie rarely read magazines or papers at all for that very reason.
For the most part, though, people were respectful, especially in France, where once again they all lived a simple life at La Babinais – with low-level security, just in case. They had promised Pierre they would be sensible, and agreed to a safe word, to use in texts or calls, or to alert their bodyguards in case of emergency. Having protection in public was a precaution that Joe had insisted upon and now Edie was pregnant, he was even more cautious. Len and Hank, the former currently standing a few feet away from Joe, the latter mooching amongst the crowd on the lookout for troublemakers had been with them for the past six months. Gus. That was their safe word and she prayed she would never have to use it.
Ace was still producing his photographic art, Edie had started her first novel and as she smoothed her dress over her six-month bump, they were all looking forward to the birth of the first Jarrett great-grandchild.
Bobbie was a frequent visitor but refused to give up work, remaining fiercely independent but very much back in love with Joe, much to Edie’s delight. Lance was doing well and enjoying heading up The Venus Foundation, regularly appearing on television and at seminars and fundraising events and so far, he hadn’t let Joe down.
Life was good, apart from the less frequent but still worrying hate mail. The arrival of them, now focused on either La Babinais or Notting Hill proved that Joe’s stalker was diligent and always seemed to know where to find him. This downer was offset by how well Joe’s autobiography had been received. Yes, it was a hard read in parts, and Edie knew every word of his take on life which was sometimes funny and also, when he spoke of Gus and his family, very moving. The fans and critics had loved it and her part in its creation had been rewarded with a three-book publishing deal – her own dream of being a writer was about to come true.
NorthStar’s album had gone platinum and the lead track, ‘There’s This Guy’ went to number one around the world, and nothing had given her more pride when she’d seen the credits on the back of the cover – Lyrics Venus Lowe, Music Joe Jarrett. And on the album jacket was a photo of her mum, from the portfolio that Edie had treasured. Venus, set against a glorious sunset, alone on a beach. The reunion tour was up next, kicking off in the UK and after that, and after the baby was born, they would all be going on tour across the States.
Sometimes it overwhelmed Edie, how much her life had changed. How in love she and Ace were, the plans they had to take their baby everywhere, show it the world, the moon and the stars, live amongst good people, teach him or her to give back more than you took. But first, they had to get married and make Jenny and Bobbie happy.
The only really dark cloud was the upcoming trial of Denny. Once the police received Gus’s statement and saw the paper trail of money withdrawn from Gus’s account, checked shift patterns, they tracked down the watchman who’d been named and described in detail. When he couldn’t account for how he’d suddenly managed to afford a luxury mobile home in Brighton and a brand-new family car, he spilled the beans and faced the shame and consequences of his pay-off and looking the other way.
As Gus had hoped, many more young women had come forward and Denny had been charged with multiple historic sexual assaults on minors. If found guilty he faced prison and being placed on the sex offenders register. Even then his troubles weren’t over because someone in America was funding a private prosecution. Oliver suspected it was Gina Zilli, so at some point Denny had another costly legal battle on his hands. Not to mention his divorce settlement and living the rest of his life as a social outcast.
Edie hated to think of Denny so watched Joe instead. He was smiling and chatting to the ladies who flushed when they spoke to him and the braver ones asked for a selfie, each time making Len, his bodyguard twitch with nerves.
God, she loved Joe so much, every bone of him, each spikey whisker that brushed her cheek when he gave her a hug, not so much when he broke wind which was a lot, but he made her cry tears of laughter, was kind and loving and was all she had hoped for in her grandad. And despite the hoo-ha at the time, the stupid way she’d gone about things, she was actually glad that she’d got to know him from the outside first. And he’d got to know her.
She desperately regretted making Ace wobble, like a blancmange apparently, but they’d overcome all that. Edie had never doubted her love for him, and he didn’t doubt her. He said they were solid as a bar of chocolate. She smiled. Ace described the oddest of things in the best ways.
And there was the man himself, sloping back and unfortunately for him, it looked like the agent and the journalist had spotted him too. ‘Ace, darling, Edie, sweetie, would you do me one more teeny favour and pose with Joe? Just a couple of piccies then we’re all done. Won’t take two ticks but it’s for the New York Times.’
Smiling sweetly while inwardly groaning Edie heaved herself off the chair and went over to where Joe was signing and Ace was taking a few quick close-up snaps.
Clarissa was bossy but efficient. ‘Okay, I want you either side of Joe, that’s it. Ace, you stand right next to your dad and turn to face the photographer, Edie, darling, shuffle closer to Joe, bit further forward so we get you all in.’
The camera flashed, one down, hopefully not many more to go. While they waited for Clarissa to ask some fans if they were willing to be photographed, Edie looked down at Joe who smiled up at her. ‘You okay kid? You look tired. You should go back to the hotel while I finish here. This is going to take bloody ages and my bleedin’ hand feels like it’s dropping off.’
‘Don’t give me that, you big mardy. You’re loving all this attention and I’m going to tell Gran you’ve been flirting.’ To this he just laughed and gave her a cheeky wink as Clarissa returned.
‘Okay, sweeties. The next three ladies have agreed to be photographed so big smiles and then Edie and Ace can go.’ Clarissa waved the woman at the front forward. She was done and dusted in a few seconds, name, photo, nice to meet you and off she went.
Lady number two stepped forward and Edie watched as she approached, a book clasped to her chest, one hand in her pocket and her eyes fixed on Joe. And it occurred to Edie, in a flash-like moment that this woman looked different to the others. Not excited or flushed, more determined and… she was angry. Something wasn’t right.
Len was deep in conversation with Clarissa, Joe was saying something to Ace as the woman placed the book on the desk and as he turned and looked up, he faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly before asking, ‘Hi, thanks for coming. Who should I sign it to?’
Edie’s heart began to race, and she was about to alert Len when the woman spoke. ‘Hello, Joe. Don’t you recognise me?’
There was a heartbeat, and then Joe recoiled slightly as he spoke, his voice hushed and incredulous. ‘Pammie?’
And then the room, time, Edie’s heart stood still as slowly, assuredly, Pammie removed her hand from her pocket and pointed a gun at Joe. Edie’s panicked brain transmitted it’s fear to her lips. ‘GUS!’ she cried out, her voice strangled by terror.
Reacting instantly Len pushed Clarissa out of the way and then raised his hands signalling for calm as everyone around them screamed and ran for cover while Joe reached out his arms and swept Edie and Ace behind him. His body became a barrier, a non-bulletproof vest and instinctively, as though gripping onto him and their last moments together, Edie wrapped her arms around Joe’s shoulders. She could feel the beat of his heart and the tremble of her own body, her unborn baby squashed against the back of Joe’s chair as she prayed for help. Not now, I can’t lose him now. Please God, don’t take him away.
Pammie just stood and stared, a manic grin on her face, the barrel of the gun wavering slightly, when like an avenging angel, from out of nowhere Hank appeared, approaching cautiously, stealthily making ground as Len tried to talk Pammie down.
‘Drop the gun, lady, nice and slow, then nobody needs to get hurt.’
The cry of a child somewhere amongst the shelves provided a split-second distraction and in a blur, during a flatline heart-stopping moment, in a perfect manoeuvre he must have practised a thousand times, Hank made his move and disarmed then disabled Pammie. Her body hit the floor with a thud, the gun skidded across the tiles and within seconds she lay face down, screaming expletives as she fought to escape, telling Joe how much she hated him for abandoning her, for not coming back to get her.
As Ace wrapped Edie in his arms and told her it was going to be okay, Joe stood, his face ashen as he stared down at the angry woman who despite being prostrate and outnumbered, continued to struggle. ‘Pammie, is it really you?’
Spittle flicking from her mouth, eyes wild, she sneered, then replied. ‘Yes, Joe, it’s me. Your Pammie. But you can call me Marnie.’
* * *
THE END
Acknowledgements
How I loved writing this story for you all, so I hope you enjoyed it, too.
I have to admit I fell a little bit in love with Joe, and I wanted to adopt Ace; to have Nanou and Silvestre for neighbours; and crazy Jenny on speed-dial.
But the person who truly stole my heart was Venus.
I could see her so clearly, what she looked like and how she behaved, walked and talked, her feistiness, the bottled rage she kept a lid on, her attitude. I knew her hips bones poked from beneath her silver dress, that her skin would be soft as velvet and her shoulder blades were sharp as razors and those eyes, ice blue shards that saw inside your soul. I adored her, still do, always will and that’s why I cried buckets when I wrote this book and especially the scene in the kitchen when Edie told Joe who she was.
Venus was there and I felt her spirit like no other character before.
I hope you felt some of that too, as you read. That you smiled at lovely Ace and his boxes, and got Jenny, felt exasperated by Lance. Maybe you thought Gus redeemed himself a bit. Did you fall in love with Joe, too? And did you believe that La Babinais is real; because I do. It’s there, on the cliffs above the beach at Herval.
To all the Pammies out there, I hope they stay away from the bad guys and find their happiness. And I also hope that people remember that there are still good guys in the world; not everyone is the same or to blame; and men can be victims, too.
Now to the thank-yous and I will start with you, the reader, for choosing Venus Was Her Name and for those of you who have read my others, for sticking with me. I appreciate your loyalty so much.
Next, to my brilliant team of ARC readers who are so much more than kind-hearted book fanatics who give their time to help out. They have become friends and a support network, a loyal bunch of lovely ladies and gents who cheer me on and share their love of my writing wherever they can. From the bottom of my heart, I really do think you are the best.
Immense thanks and huge respect goes to my editorial dream team of Clare, Ian and Maria. I always look forward to getting each round of edits because I know that their expert eyes will have made my story so much better. Clare, your little comments in the margin always make me smile if I’ve been good, and your erudite observations when I’ve been gormless are worth their weight in gold. Eagle-eyed Ian and Maria, please keep doing what you do because you are fab.
To our wonderfully talented cover designer who was kind and patient enough to listen to my ideas; and then had the sense to completely ignore me and create the beautiful image that is on the front of the book. As I have already said, I shed many tears whilst writing this story so imagine how I felt when I opened my email and there she was, my beautiful Venus, just as I imagined her, set against a glorious sunset, alone on a beach, waiting patiently for Joe to walk by with his dogs. The cover is the album at the end of the book, the words of her song written down for all eternity, and this image will remain in my heart and mind for always. Thank you, clever clogs.
Tara, what would I do without you? How would I manage to add sticky notes to a manuscript even though you’ve explained it ten million times and sent me very patient voice notes, again?! You keep me in line, on track, and from being a total stress-head; and you make me smile with your lovely emails. You are a true diamond and I adore you.
To Heather and Nathan, I don’t really know what we talk about for 365 days a year, probably most of it is rubbish; but having you two for company and a lora lora laughs certainly keeps me going. You’re the best. And if anyone reading this hasn’t checked out their books – what are you waiting for? You’ll find them both @Bloodhound Books as N J Moss & Heather J Fitt
