Chapter 26

Once the press got news of what had happened, they went nuts.

Suddenly anger at Angel's last-minute failure to show-up to her movie's opening night turned to sympathy. With all of the sensational elements of our real-life drama (big star, stalker, hostage daughter, blah, blah, blah) there was no way that they were ever going to allow us to recover in peace.

And so the decision was made to hold one mega press-conference in Paris, in the hope that they would then just leave us alone. Journalists and photographers had surrounded the hotel. It was impossible to move beyond the confines of the suite. So the venue for the media-frenzy was a no-brainer. A platform had been built in the ballroom of the hotel, and less than twenty-four hours after our ordeal, they were ready to assemble reporters and film crews from around the globe for the interview with Mom.

I knew that all of the press attention was the very last thing that Mom needed. I saw her look out of a window that faced the huge avenue at the hotel front, to see that the media there had brought traffic to a halt. The sound of sirens and horns didn't exactly do anything to create an atmosphere of calm.

'It's time to go,' said Martina.

Mom nodded.

'You don't have to do this, you know,' said Andre. 'I mean, I'm sure we could always escape through the kitchen, or something. And now is as good a time as any.'

That made Mom smile.

'No,' she said firmly, 'they would only find us. Let's get this over and done with.'

But just as we were about to leave, Dina Baden burst into the room. She was carrying a bouquet of roses that was almost bigger than her. Mom rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She had already seen too many interviews with Dina. The woman had seemed quite happy to exploit the publicity that surrounded our trauma to get as much airtime as she possibly could.

'Darling, tell me you are not planning to face those cameras alone,' she said.

'Dina,' said Mom, ' I know that you are worried about me – I've just seen you say so on the news – but I can assure you that I will be fine.'

'And no hard feelings, I hope,' said Dina.

'Hard feelings?', asked Mom, 'why should there be any hard feelings?'

'Well, I know that personal assistants like Martina are hard to come by. I just hope you don't feel like I'm cutting off your right arm or something.'

Dina suddenly faltered when she saw Martina becoming flustered.

'I'm not speaking out of turn, am I?' asked Dina. 'You do know that Martina is coming to work for me.'

Mom looked at Martina as though she had expected no less.

'Martina is a free agent,' said Mom coldly. 'She can leave now. Turn's out we have got very different priorities. I'm sure you two will be very happy together.'

And with that Mom turned to make her exit. She opened the huge doors of the suite to reveal a security guard that was of presidential proportions. Bodyguards lined the hall to the elevator. It was all pretty intimidating. Two huge, black-suited guys even escorted us into the elevator. You could tell that they were the real deal because they managed to stay totally frozen and silent, despite Andre's lame jokes and Portia's constant flirting.

Mom squeezed my hand as the elevator doors slid open. There was no turning back now. We could all hear the busy hum of the hundreds of excited reporters who were there to get all of the gory details.

We were escorted to a small, private, briefing room that had been arranged next to the press area. A group of busy publicity people came to a halt as soon as Mom entered. The room was silent except for a bank of television screens that were tuned into every imaginable news network.

A black-suited, blond woman greeted us quickly. She spoke fast as she briefed my Mom.

'There are more than one hundred journalists present; all of the major t.v. networks are represented. They are just hearing a police statement – so they have all of the salient facts. From you, they will be expecting more detail of the emotion and the drama. Most will be broadcasting this thing live so you might want to measure your words carefully.'

Suddenly another of the black-suited publicity women told Mom that she had thirty seconds. The countdown had begun.

Andre fussed over Mom's hair while Portia added a little powder to Mom's face. It gave them each something to do. The fact was that we all knew that Mom had to go out there on her own. I only had time to tell her that I would be waiting, before she was ushered out to face the world alone.

Although I had grown up with surrounded by images of my Mom, it was bizarre to see her face suddenly appear on the bank of screens, when she had literally just slipped into the next room. Her appearance prompted a blaze of flashlights and the clamouring of journalists; all desperate to ask a question.

She conjured up a smile and raised her hand to ask for some hush. The room quietened.

'Before I take any questions, I have some people to thank,' she said. 'Yesterday, my friend and bodyguard saved not only my life, but also the life of my daughter.'

She paused briefly as her voice began to crack. After a breath she continued.

'I would like to acknowledge Bob Ward's brave actions in wounding and apprehending our attacker. It is a miracle that no lives were lost yesterday. And I would also like to thank the French police force for their prompt arrival on the scene. They have been very helpful and supportive throughout.'

'I can take some questions now.'

Every journalist in the room was suddenly pleading for her attention. She picked a familiar face – the entertainment anchor for one of the major US networks.

'Is it true that Thomas Anderson had been stalking you for some time?' asked the glamorous young woman.

'Yes,' said Mom, 'he had continued to harass me despite numerous court proceedings and restraining orders. Although we had no idea that he had travelled to Paris.'

Angel pointed to a serious-looking man for her next question.

'Do you have any idea why he chose to target your daughter?' he asked.

Mom hesitated before she replied.

'If anyone ever wanted to really hurt me then the very worst thing that they could do would be to attack the thing that is more precious than my own life. I'm no different to any mother. My child is everything to me.'

She cast her eyes downwards, towards the podium, in an effort to compose herself before she asked for the next question.

A beautiful, French-sounding woman stood up to address my Mom.

'Madame,' she said, 'what on earth were you doing in that street when you should have been attending your movie's premier?'

Angel stalled and the cameras went wild to see her suddenly look so unprepared.

'I was there on private family business…' she said vaguely.

A hum of interest rose within the room. They knew that they had touched a nerve – they were obviously not going to let this go.

'It is not something that I can discuss,' Mom said, looking anxious.

There was uproar among the reporters and I could see Mom begin to crumble. It was not something that I could allow to continue.

Nobody noticed as I opened the door that led to the stage.

But my arrival on the platform next to my Mom caused a huge flurry of flash and even louder demands from the journalists.

'No honey,' said Mom to me, 'you don't have to do this.'

'No,' I said, 'but I want to.'

The clamouring continued, it was impossible to be heard, so I did the only thing that I could do under those circumstances; I reached for the whistle that hung around my neck (the Christmas gift from Bob), and I blew. It was much louder than it looked. The effect was immediate. There was total silence.

I lowered the microphone to my level.

'Listen guys,' I said, 'we really do not need this kind of post-traumatic stress.'

There was a ripple of laughter.

'Mom knows that I don't like cameras and she does her best to protect me from people like you.'

There was more laughter. I hoped that my heart was not going to explode out of my chest, because it sure felt like it was just about to do just that.

'But you asked my Mom a question that I should really answer. My Mom was on that street yesterday because of me. I ran away. I lied and I ignored security.'

Mom squeezed my hand.

'Maybe sometimes you guys think that you own my Mom. Maybe sometimes I think that you really do. But yesterday my Mom had to be there for me. And I'm glad she was.'

I held back the tears, desperate not to appear on t.v.s around the world looking like some complete sugar-coated, loser.

'My Mom does not have to explain herself to you guys. You can all love Angel as much as you like, but you have to remember that she is my Mom and sometimes I need her too.'

Mom hugged me then. And I knew that the photos that they were taking of that moment would be the kind of syrupy family numbers that I had always hated. Those pictures would haunt me forever. But you know what? I didn't even care….



Chapter 27

Of course, going public in Paris like that wasn't something that I could ever take back. My face and my name were out there for everyone to see. There was no place to hide. And maybe, I thought, there never really had been any need to hide. I was who I was. People could choose to love me or to hate me for who I really was. If all that they could see me as was my mother's daughter, well that would be their problem, not mine. It was time to start living my own life.

But my confidence almost evaporated when I saw Peter standing in the courtyard. He was clearly waiting for the limo that had collected us from the airport and he looked serious. A grateful hug from my Mom did nothing to shift his gaze from me. Andre and Portia quickly followed Mom's lead in hurrying indoors. But before Portia finally disappeared behind the back door, she signalled to me to smile and to fix my hair. Her well-intentioned advice was not only embarrassing, but unnecessary. I knew that Peter and I were beyond any form of polite flirting.

There was an uncomfortable silence until Peter spoke.

'I want you to know that I did what I thought was right,' he said, moving a little closer towards me.

'I know,' I said, trying to sound more casual than I really felt. 'The computer was a dumb idea. When Andre asked me what you would like for a gift I should have suggested a soccer ball or something.'

'What are you talking about?' Peter asked laughing.

'You know,' I said, feeling confused, 'the whole gift fiasco.'

'Forget about it,' said Peter. 'After everything that's happened.. Well I just wanted you to know that I didn't tell your Mum about your Dad's address because I was angry with you. I told her because I wanted you to be safe. When I heard that you were missing I knew that nothing mattered more than that. So I hope that I didn't drop you in it or anything.'

I took his hands to comfort him. In that moment I had forgotten about all of my very confused feelings for Peter. I moved only to reassure him. But when our fingers touched it was like electricity. It sounds corny, I know, but I quickly discovered that all of the clichéd talk of love that I had ever heard had some basis in reality, because I could have sworn that there was an actual (and very pleasant) electrical circuit connecting us together as our fingers intertwined.

And when he kissed me… I don't honestly think that there are verbs to describe just how I felt. But I knew that I would always remember my first kiss and probably I would never experience a kiss like that ever again.


So yes, I chose to go back to St. Saviours while Mom continued filming in London. Only this time there would be no pretending. It would be the same dorky uniform with a whole new attitude. They hadn't seen the best of me yet.

Sure, I got a lot of attention on that first day. But this time I chose not to glare at anyone who happened to glance in my direction. All news becomes stale and I knew that they would (eventually) stop talking about the drama and maybe even get to know the real me.

There was so much that I wanted to say to Marnie that I didn't know where to begin when I finally caught sight of her in the hallway on that first morning. She didn't seem to notice me as I walked towards her. There was something in the trophy cabinet that had her full attention. I stood behind her and waited.

Her eyes caught sight of my reflection in the glass of the enormous display case. And without turning around, she spoke to me.

'I see they managed to get your name right,' she said.

And I looked to see that the name 'Bliss J Drew' had been added to the long list of winners on the base of the huge debating trophy.

I nodded, unsure of what to do.

'Look Marnie, I'm sorry,' I said, 'for everything…'

But she raised her hand to show that she did not want to hear what I had to say and she turned around to face me. She was smiling.

'So are you coming round to mine later then?' she said.

'No, you're coming round to mine,' I replied.

'Cool,' she said.

And we walked together towards the classroom.