Poles Apart
Page 37
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“No problem, Emma. What can I do for you?” he asked, his voice husky and thick with sleep.
“There are reporters banging on my front door and calling my phone right now. They’re asking questions about Carson again. They said something about an article in The Peoples’ Post this morning, but I don’t know what it’s about,” I said weakly, swiping at the tears which just wouldn’t stop flowing down my face.
“You have people there right now?”
“Yeah. There are about four or five guys banging on my front door as we speak.” I looked down the hallway and saw my letterbox move. I frowned until I saw a pair of eyes peeking through; the shouting of my name got a little louder as he spotted me. I jerked back into the kitchen quickly. “And now they’re looking through my letterbox,” I added, sniffing loudly.
“Okay, don’t panic; I’ll sort everything. I’ll have police officers there in a few minutes to move them away from your door. There are rules, and they’re not allowed to harass you. I’ll have them moved to outside your building while I try to sort this out.” His calmness was very reassuring and made my worry fade marginally. “What was printed? Do you have a copy?”
I sighed. “No. I have no idea. Sorry.”
“It’s no problem. Damn Rodger Harris, he agreed last night not to print anything about you two.” He sighed heavily. “Can I call you back on this number?”
I frowned. “Umm… They keep calling this number and my mobile number, so I was going to turn them both off,” I admitted.
“Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea. Disconnect your phone, don’t speak to anyone. If there are any problems, you call me immediately. Call me in an hour for an update, okay? And, Emma…stay inside until I tell you, all right?”
“Absolutely. Thanks. I’ll call you in an hour then.”
As soon as I hung up the phone, I disconnected it and turned off my mobile, too.
Within ten minutes, the shouting stopped outside my door and a polite knocking sounded. “Miss Bancroft, please open the door. It’s the police,” someone called. I gulped and looked through my eyepiece to see two police officers standing there. Sighing with relief, I opened the door. They smiled kindly. “Miss Bancroft?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“We’ve moved them downstairs, outside the main entrance because there are distance limits for reporters. The banging on your door will stop now. We’ll wait downstairs until they disperse. You have Mason Bossley on the case, so hopefully it’ll be within the next couple of hours. If you could just tell us if you plan on leaving your flat so we’re aware,” one of them said, looking me over a little curiously. Maybe he was wondering what all the fuss was about, and how a petite lap dancer in a pair of worn-out pyjamas could cause so much trouble.
I winced. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but I didn’t want to trap Rory and Sasha inside with me all day. Maybe I should ask Lucie if they can go to hers for the day, and possibly the night, too.
“Umm…I have a daughter. I was thinking maybe I should get her to my friend’s house or something?” I suggested, looking at them for their opinions. They would have more idea of how to deal with this situation than me so I was open to their advice.
“Yes, we’re aware of your daughter. Maybe it’s a good idea to have her go to a trusted friend until this all blows over. I don’t recommend you take her, though. Do you have someone who could take her out of the building and to your friend’s? A neighbour, perhaps? Someone who could slip out unnoticed with your daughter,” the policeman suggested.
I gulped. That made sense. I looked to the door next to mine. “Mrs Miller? She lives right next door. She could take her with my brother, too. My friend lives about a ten minute walk away,” I agreed, nodding enthusiastically.
I left it to them to sort out with Mrs Miller, and I called Lucie who, of course, agreed quickly. She really was the best friend a girl could ask for. After half an hour, Rory, Mrs Miller and Sasha left to go to Lucie’s. Rory went first and was to wait around the corner so they didn’t all leave together. The police informed me that Mrs Miller and Sasha had apparently strutted out of the building without the reporters even batting an eyelid at them; obviously they just saw a woman carrying a child and thought nothing of it because she wasn’t me. I sank to the sofa with relief. As soon as I got the call from Lucie saying they had all arrived safely, I disconnected my phone again, sat on the sofa and cried.
After another hour, there came another urgent banging on the door. I groaned and pushed myself up, opening the door, expecting to see the police who I knew were still here. But instead I saw Carson. He looked murderously angry, his eyes tight and stressed, his hair messy like he’d been pulling on it or something.
“Hi.” I sighed with relief that he was here. I really, really needed a hug from him.
He didn’t smile, his jaw clenched as he shoved a newspaper into my chest. “What the fuck is this?” he growled, his words coming out slowly and full of acid.
I frowned and looked down at the paper he’d thrust at me. Splashed across the front was a picture of Carson and me coming out of Lloyds last weekend, and another smaller picture in the corner of Sasha at the park, me pushing her on the swings. The title on the paper made my heart stop and my blood run cold. Now I understood why he looked so furious.
“OH, GOD,” I MUMBLED. I couldn’t breathe. How did they know? How had they known she was Carson’s? Why hadn’t they just assumed I had a baby with someone else? How did they piece it together that she was his? And how the heck had they gotten these pictures of us at the park? That was Monday. I hadn’t seen anyone following us around on Monday taking pictures!
“There are reporters banging on my front door and calling my phone right now. They’re asking questions about Carson again. They said something about an article in The Peoples’ Post this morning, but I don’t know what it’s about,” I said weakly, swiping at the tears which just wouldn’t stop flowing down my face.
“You have people there right now?”
“Yeah. There are about four or five guys banging on my front door as we speak.” I looked down the hallway and saw my letterbox move. I frowned until I saw a pair of eyes peeking through; the shouting of my name got a little louder as he spotted me. I jerked back into the kitchen quickly. “And now they’re looking through my letterbox,” I added, sniffing loudly.
“Okay, don’t panic; I’ll sort everything. I’ll have police officers there in a few minutes to move them away from your door. There are rules, and they’re not allowed to harass you. I’ll have them moved to outside your building while I try to sort this out.” His calmness was very reassuring and made my worry fade marginally. “What was printed? Do you have a copy?”
I sighed. “No. I have no idea. Sorry.”
“It’s no problem. Damn Rodger Harris, he agreed last night not to print anything about you two.” He sighed heavily. “Can I call you back on this number?”
I frowned. “Umm… They keep calling this number and my mobile number, so I was going to turn them both off,” I admitted.
“Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea. Disconnect your phone, don’t speak to anyone. If there are any problems, you call me immediately. Call me in an hour for an update, okay? And, Emma…stay inside until I tell you, all right?”
“Absolutely. Thanks. I’ll call you in an hour then.”
As soon as I hung up the phone, I disconnected it and turned off my mobile, too.
Within ten minutes, the shouting stopped outside my door and a polite knocking sounded. “Miss Bancroft, please open the door. It’s the police,” someone called. I gulped and looked through my eyepiece to see two police officers standing there. Sighing with relief, I opened the door. They smiled kindly. “Miss Bancroft?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“We’ve moved them downstairs, outside the main entrance because there are distance limits for reporters. The banging on your door will stop now. We’ll wait downstairs until they disperse. You have Mason Bossley on the case, so hopefully it’ll be within the next couple of hours. If you could just tell us if you plan on leaving your flat so we’re aware,” one of them said, looking me over a little curiously. Maybe he was wondering what all the fuss was about, and how a petite lap dancer in a pair of worn-out pyjamas could cause so much trouble.
I winced. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but I didn’t want to trap Rory and Sasha inside with me all day. Maybe I should ask Lucie if they can go to hers for the day, and possibly the night, too.
“Umm…I have a daughter. I was thinking maybe I should get her to my friend’s house or something?” I suggested, looking at them for their opinions. They would have more idea of how to deal with this situation than me so I was open to their advice.
“Yes, we’re aware of your daughter. Maybe it’s a good idea to have her go to a trusted friend until this all blows over. I don’t recommend you take her, though. Do you have someone who could take her out of the building and to your friend’s? A neighbour, perhaps? Someone who could slip out unnoticed with your daughter,” the policeman suggested.
I gulped. That made sense. I looked to the door next to mine. “Mrs Miller? She lives right next door. She could take her with my brother, too. My friend lives about a ten minute walk away,” I agreed, nodding enthusiastically.
I left it to them to sort out with Mrs Miller, and I called Lucie who, of course, agreed quickly. She really was the best friend a girl could ask for. After half an hour, Rory, Mrs Miller and Sasha left to go to Lucie’s. Rory went first and was to wait around the corner so they didn’t all leave together. The police informed me that Mrs Miller and Sasha had apparently strutted out of the building without the reporters even batting an eyelid at them; obviously they just saw a woman carrying a child and thought nothing of it because she wasn’t me. I sank to the sofa with relief. As soon as I got the call from Lucie saying they had all arrived safely, I disconnected my phone again, sat on the sofa and cried.
After another hour, there came another urgent banging on the door. I groaned and pushed myself up, opening the door, expecting to see the police who I knew were still here. But instead I saw Carson. He looked murderously angry, his eyes tight and stressed, his hair messy like he’d been pulling on it or something.
“Hi.” I sighed with relief that he was here. I really, really needed a hug from him.
He didn’t smile, his jaw clenched as he shoved a newspaper into my chest. “What the fuck is this?” he growled, his words coming out slowly and full of acid.
I frowned and looked down at the paper he’d thrust at me. Splashed across the front was a picture of Carson and me coming out of Lloyds last weekend, and another smaller picture in the corner of Sasha at the park, me pushing her on the swings. The title on the paper made my heart stop and my blood run cold. Now I understood why he looked so furious.
“OH, GOD,” I MUMBLED. I couldn’t breathe. How did they know? How had they known she was Carson’s? Why hadn’t they just assumed I had a baby with someone else? How did they piece it together that she was his? And how the heck had they gotten these pictures of us at the park? That was Monday. I hadn’t seen anyone following us around on Monday taking pictures!
