Page 29 of Not Another Rockstar
“She’s been paying rent on an apartment she already owns?” Axel asked, and everyone turned to look at him, surprised by his sudden outburst. He sank back into his corner.
“Nick, did you know about this?” Phoebe asked her brother, sat across from her.
“Not a clue.” Nick shrugged.
So Helen wasn’t the only thing he’d been lying about. Were the secrets ever going to end?
“The money you’ve been paying in rent has been put in a high-yield investment portfolio,” Mr Murray informed her.
“How much is in it?” Phoebe asked, trying to do quick maths of how much rent she’d paid into it. She knew nothing about stocks; she would keep her money in her mattress if she could.
Mr Murray riffled through another envelope of papers until he found what he was looking for. “A little over three hundred thousand. The investments are rather volatile, but Mr Hunt didn’t mind the risk.”
“Except it wasn’t his money to risk.”
Nick nudged Axel into silence.
“I’m sure he was only making sure that you were looked after,” Maureen said. “He always worried that you didn’t have a safety net in case your art didn’t work out.” She didn’t meanto sound condescending, but to hear that Cillian had such little faith in Phoebe’s art career felt like another betrayal.
“We can pull the funds whenever you like and put it into a savings account, should you wish,” Mr Murray added, but she wasn’t sure what to do with her newfound fortune. She had never had more than a thousand in her savings account before. Even with her success, she had only started making a profit on her art this year. Even then, she had been putting it back into her work, renting her studio and supplies.
“The rest of his financial estate and properties are to be left to his mother, Maureen Hunt, to be handled as she sees fit.”
Phoebe tuned out for the final details. The band retained the rights to his image, voice, music and masters, which made moving forward a lot easier for them. She heard Anita practically sigh in the corner.
After all was said and done, Phoebe asked the others to leave so she could explain to Cillian’s mum exactly who Helen was. She tried to keep it short and sweet, but the words burnt her tongue like she had eaten a spicy pepper and washed it down with sour candies.
She took some comfort in not being interrupted as she explained how she’d found out. Maureen didn’t utter a single word, only stared at the burning candle in the centre of the table. It was a lot to digest, burying your son and gaining a grandchild in the same day.
Phoebe noticed Helen lingering by the door, looking rather green, still with a protective hand over her tummy. Maureen followed her gaze.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” she snarled suddenly, as though seeing Helen made it all real. “My son would never betray you. Even if he made a mistake, he would’ve told me. I understand why he might not have told you at first—he would’ve been terrified of losing you. All he did was talk about your futuretogether, you were his everything. Always have been, and now I suppose you always will be.”
“I wanted to believe that too, but it’s true. If you’ve any doubts, you can request a paternity test. However, the guys believe her, and from what she has said herself, they were together for months. It wasn’t a mistake,” Phoebe said, needing her to understand so she wouldn’t have to keep repeating the details.
Helen looked like she was about to burst into tears. A bruise was forming nicely where Phoebe had struck her, and Phoebe was mad at herself for losing control, but the balls on this woman were astonishing. But she had a child to provide for now. Cillian’s child. For their sake, Phoebe swallowed her pride.
“Cillian is gone, but his child will be born in the next few months,” she told his mother. “You should know your grandchild. He would’ve wanted to make sure the child was looked after. I don’t doubt that the child is his, or he wouldn’t have put her in his will.”
“How can you be so calm? How long have you known about her? About the baby?” Maureen asked, as though accusing her of wrongdoing.
“I only found out in Munich.”
“Before the accident.” Maureen paled.
“Yes. I learnt about their…” The word ‘relationship’ choked her. “…situation when I went to their last concert. I only found out she was pregnant today,” she finished, wishing she was anywhere but here.
“I don’t know what to say.” Maureen leaned on the table. Such a shock wasn’t good for a woman in her sixties.
“There’s nothing to say,” Phoebe said, numb to it all.
“My Cillian wouldn’t have done this! How could he be so careless, so cruel—and after how his father treated me. Cheating is the last thing I’d expect from him.”
Phoebe hated seeing her like this.
“I wish I had answers for you. I’m still processing everything. But you should give Helen a chance, for the sake of his kid.” She didn’t want to be the bigger person, but the baby was innocent, and given that Cillian didn’t have any siblings, it was the last thing Maureen had of him.
“I don’t think I can stand to look at her.”
