Page 169 of The Last Love Song
‘This’ll make the front page of all the tabloids tomorrow,’ he assured Brad.
‘Good. See that it does. It can only help with the publicity for the concert.’
Con yawned. ‘Sorry. I’m knackered.’
‘We’ll book you a suite at the Ritz, shall we, Con?’ Freddy suggested. ‘You can chill out and recover for a couple of days. And we’ll try and keep the press out of your hair for a while.’
‘Don’t be silly. Con can come and stay at my house, meet the wife and kids,’ said Ian.
‘Not sensible, Ian. You’d have to build a six-foot-high wall round the outside to stop the media getting to Con,’ Brad put in.
‘Come with me, Con. My place is secure,’ Todd said gently.
Con looked at him. ‘Thanks, Todd. That would be grand.’
They didn’t talk much on the drive home. Con stared out of the window at the busy London streets and Todd listened to the news.
‘And a story just in: Con Daly, lead singer of the hugely successful sixties rock band The Fishermen, walked into the offices of his old record company, Metropolitan, earlier today. The Fishermen are re-forming to play at the Music for Life concert at Wembley in a week’s time. The excitement surroundingthe Irishman’s return can only boost interest in the concert, at which The Fishermen will be the star act.’
Todd switched the radio off and looked across at Con. ‘I’ll do all I can to keep them at bay.’
Con nodded. ‘Thanks, Todd.’
Over the next forty-eight hours, Con did no more than eat and sleep. Todd found him curled up on the floor next to the double bed when he took him in breakfast, but he made no comment.
The press camped outside night and day, bringing ladders and even hiring a crane to try to get a shot of the prodigal son returned.
On the third day, as Todd sat in his top-floor attic office, a freshly showered and shaven Con appeared at the door.
‘Todd, forgive me.’
He turned round. ‘What for?’
‘I behaved like a prat, an eejit and an arsehole all those years ago. The apology is seventeen years too late, but I’ve been wanting to make it anyway.’ Todd nodded. ‘For what it’s worth, and I’m not sure it’s worth a lot, nothing ever happened between Lulu and me. She made most of it up.’
‘Yeah. I began to figure that out when her flings with all those Hollywood A-listers ended in “total disaster” on the front pages of the tabloids.’ Todd looked genuinely pained. ‘Anyway, it’s water under the bridge. Lulu always was flighty.’
‘Thanks.’ Con’s eyes twinkled.
‘And let me say how sorry I am about...what happened. I still can’t believe she’s not here.’
‘I know.’
‘I came round to Hampstead after the trial to see you. The house was shut up so I presumed you’d gone away for some time by yourself. I assumed you’d be back. Why did you stay away so long?’
Con perched on the edge of Todd’s desk. He picked up an elastic band and stretched it between his fingers.
‘Every time I thought of coming back, I couldn’t face it. Sorcha died protecting me from Helen’s bullets. Losing her was bad enough, but then to hear she was expecting our child...Our baby died with her.’ Con looked at Todd, his eyes wet with tears. ‘I felt responsible for both their deaths. I still do.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Here, there, everywhere. At first I had to keep on the move. Travel numbs the mind. Besides which, people recognised me in those days. Eventually I went home.’
‘I don’t think your own mother would recognise you today.’
‘I realised that when Brad threatened me with the police outside Metropolitan if I didn’t move along,’ Con smiled.
‘Why choose now to come back?’
