Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 88
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“Becky!” A journalist is holding out a voice recorder at me. “Becky! Did you see Lois stealing?”
“Did you catch her in the act?” chimes in another.
“Becky, look this way, please!”
“This way, please, Becky!”
“Leave her alone!” commands Luke furiously, but the crowd of press is getting even bigger.
“Becky! To your right, please!”
I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be in the glare of the paparazzi. Now I know. It’s like being in a thunderstorm. It’s all white light and noise and whooshing in my ears. Voices are calling at me from all directions. I don’t know which way to look or what to do. All I’m aware of is my name, being shouted out, over and over.
“Becky!”
“Becky!”
“Beckeeeeeee!”
I suppose in the old days, we would have waited for the first editions to come out. We might even have got some sleep. But this is the twenty-four-hour Internet age. The news was right there, instantly.
It’s 6:00 A.M. now, and none of us has been to bed. I’ve read about two hundred different pieces online. I can’t stop. The headlines have been changing every hour, as more bits of news filter in:
Lois is “Shoplifter”!!!
ASA ceremony disrupted
Sage accuses Lois of theft, interrupts awards
Store assistant confirms shoplifting, police “pressing no charges as yet”
Sage: I feel betrayed by former friend
And there’s a whole load just about me.
Witness Becky “saw everything”
Becky “may testify in court”
Stars fight over bag from stylist Becky
They just go on and on. The most extraordinary one is this one I found on a gossip site:
Becky “drank cocktails” before row, bartender reports
I mean, for God’s sake. What does that have to do with anything? They might as well write LOIS AND SAGE VISITED BATHROOM ON DAY OF ROW. They probably will write that.
We’ve all given up saying how bizarre it is. Suze and Tarkie are on the sofa with all the children, eating cornflakes and watching the coverage on E!, which is basically a loop of Sage screaming at Lois and a shot of me looking bewildered. I’ve seen it about forty-seven times. I don’t need to see it any more.
Luke and Aran are in the kitchen, talking grimly. Somehow they persuaded Sage to stop giving interviews, go home, and promise to go to bed. Aran delivered her personally into the care of her housekeeper, handed over a huge tip, and said, “This girl needs to sleep.” But I bet she’s stayed up all night too. I bet she loves it.
As for Lois, I have no idea. Her people surrounded her and hustled her out of the place almost instantly. It was like seeing a caged animal again. Every time I think of it, my insides squirm with guilt.
“Want watch Barney!” Minnie barges into me, interrupting my thoughts. “Want watch Barney, not Mummy. Not Mummy,” she repeats disparagingly.
I suppose it is a bit boring, watching your mother on a loop on the TV when you were hoping for a big purple dinosaur.
“Come on.” I lift her up, all cozy in her rabbit dressing gown and slippers. “Let’s find you Barney.”
I settle her upstairs, watching Barney on our bed with a bowl of sugar-free spelt puffs. (Totally tasteless but, unbelievably, her favorite snack. She really is becoming a child of L.A.) Then I pull back the curtains and do a double take. There’s a camera crew outside our gates. An actual camera crew! The next minute I hear the entrance buzzer sounding. Someone’s pressing it, over and over. I bolt along the landing and start running down the stairs, but Luke is at the bottom, waiting for me.
“Don’t answer it!” he says. “Aran will take care of it.”
He shepherds me away from the door, into the kitchen. “You’re going to have to keep a very low profile over the next few days,” he says. “Which is boring, but that’s how these things go. We’ll draft a statement and release it midmorning.”
“Becky!” I can hear a man’s faint voice from outside. “Becky, we want to offer you an exclusive!”
“Should I maybe give an interview?” I turn to Luke. “Like, make things clear?”
“No!” says Luke, as though the idea is anathema. “A statement is enough. We don’t want to feed the frenzy. The more you give them, the more they’ll want. Coffee?”
“Thanks. I just need to … get my lip gloss.…”
I dart into the hall again and run halfway up the stairs. There’s a window from where I can see out to the front, and I peer through the glass. Aran is at the gates, talking to the camera crew. He’s laughing and looks relaxed and even high-fives one of them. I can’t imagine Luke behaving like that.
“Did you catch her in the act?” chimes in another.
“Becky, look this way, please!”
“This way, please, Becky!”
“Leave her alone!” commands Luke furiously, but the crowd of press is getting even bigger.
“Becky! To your right, please!”
I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be in the glare of the paparazzi. Now I know. It’s like being in a thunderstorm. It’s all white light and noise and whooshing in my ears. Voices are calling at me from all directions. I don’t know which way to look or what to do. All I’m aware of is my name, being shouted out, over and over.
“Becky!”
“Becky!”
“Beckeeeeeee!”
I suppose in the old days, we would have waited for the first editions to come out. We might even have got some sleep. But this is the twenty-four-hour Internet age. The news was right there, instantly.
It’s 6:00 A.M. now, and none of us has been to bed. I’ve read about two hundred different pieces online. I can’t stop. The headlines have been changing every hour, as more bits of news filter in:
Lois is “Shoplifter”!!!
ASA ceremony disrupted
Sage accuses Lois of theft, interrupts awards
Store assistant confirms shoplifting, police “pressing no charges as yet”
Sage: I feel betrayed by former friend
And there’s a whole load just about me.
Witness Becky “saw everything”
Becky “may testify in court”
Stars fight over bag from stylist Becky
They just go on and on. The most extraordinary one is this one I found on a gossip site:
Becky “drank cocktails” before row, bartender reports
I mean, for God’s sake. What does that have to do with anything? They might as well write LOIS AND SAGE VISITED BATHROOM ON DAY OF ROW. They probably will write that.
We’ve all given up saying how bizarre it is. Suze and Tarkie are on the sofa with all the children, eating cornflakes and watching the coverage on E!, which is basically a loop of Sage screaming at Lois and a shot of me looking bewildered. I’ve seen it about forty-seven times. I don’t need to see it any more.
Luke and Aran are in the kitchen, talking grimly. Somehow they persuaded Sage to stop giving interviews, go home, and promise to go to bed. Aran delivered her personally into the care of her housekeeper, handed over a huge tip, and said, “This girl needs to sleep.” But I bet she’s stayed up all night too. I bet she loves it.
As for Lois, I have no idea. Her people surrounded her and hustled her out of the place almost instantly. It was like seeing a caged animal again. Every time I think of it, my insides squirm with guilt.
“Want watch Barney!” Minnie barges into me, interrupting my thoughts. “Want watch Barney, not Mummy. Not Mummy,” she repeats disparagingly.
I suppose it is a bit boring, watching your mother on a loop on the TV when you were hoping for a big purple dinosaur.
“Come on.” I lift her up, all cozy in her rabbit dressing gown and slippers. “Let’s find you Barney.”
I settle her upstairs, watching Barney on our bed with a bowl of sugar-free spelt puffs. (Totally tasteless but, unbelievably, her favorite snack. She really is becoming a child of L.A.) Then I pull back the curtains and do a double take. There’s a camera crew outside our gates. An actual camera crew! The next minute I hear the entrance buzzer sounding. Someone’s pressing it, over and over. I bolt along the landing and start running down the stairs, but Luke is at the bottom, waiting for me.
“Don’t answer it!” he says. “Aran will take care of it.”
He shepherds me away from the door, into the kitchen. “You’re going to have to keep a very low profile over the next few days,” he says. “Which is boring, but that’s how these things go. We’ll draft a statement and release it midmorning.”
“Becky!” I can hear a man’s faint voice from outside. “Becky, we want to offer you an exclusive!”
“Should I maybe give an interview?” I turn to Luke. “Like, make things clear?”
“No!” says Luke, as though the idea is anathema. “A statement is enough. We don’t want to feed the frenzy. The more you give them, the more they’ll want. Coffee?”
“Thanks. I just need to … get my lip gloss.…”
I dart into the hall again and run halfway up the stairs. There’s a window from where I can see out to the front, and I peer through the glass. Aran is at the gates, talking to the camera crew. He’s laughing and looks relaxed and even high-fives one of them. I can’t imagine Luke behaving like that.
