Page 39 of The Twelve Days of Christian
And then last year at Ollie’s country house, that awful bank holiday weekend when we were all there—me with Jack. Jack and I argued, our relationship in its death throes. He sniped at me endlessly, over tiny ridiculous things, in what I now know was his pathetic attempt to make me the one to call time on it. Desperate to create an excuse for me to walk away before I found out what he and Paige were up to behind my back. I can still picture Christian’s look of disgust, the tense set of his jaw, him brushing past me in the hallway, in a whisper asking if I was OK. I wasn’t, but I’d lied, ashamed.
Over three years, we’ve spoken, touched, hugged, offered chaste kisses of greeting, yet all I saw was a rather distant but pleasant, polite guy; my brother’s friend. But Christian has seen more, and wanted more. This is another reason he chose me as his sanctuary. I swallow hard. A whirlwind of emotions swirls like I’m in a snow globe, plucked into the air by a giant hand and given a vigorous shake. I buy myself time, deflecting Loreena’s curiosity with a question.
“And he stopped them using the snares?” Christian feared with him gone, they’d go ahead anyway, even though Rachel believed otherwise.
“Yes, that too. Tell him it worked. They collected them all in. Issued everyone with a ‘bonus gift’ of some supermarket chicken and told us all to stick to fishing.”
“So, how come they kicked you out?” I ask.
She laughs. “No darling, they didn’t kick me out. I demanded to go. There was no way I’d stay and be a player in that charade so they could profit from it. I was so damn happy to leave.”
“But you were crying. You looked so sad.”
“Oh, that wasn’t about the leaving,” she scoffs. “Well, it kind of was. There were a few of the other contestants, the men, who weredecent human beings. Not the sharpest tools on the shelf, but I can forgive stupid. I got a bit emotional, hearing they were sorry to see me go. Wasn’t expectingthat. And, then, seeing the car there, the security staff—like a replay of the day before when Christian left. It hit home how awful they were to him—and me. The same shit happening again. With one important difference—those bastards don’t see me as a threat. Which gives me an advantage.”
“How come you two teamed up so well?” I’m curious. Christian hasn’t really explained why he sat there with such a smug smile when they announced Loreena would be his official partner. “Opposites attract?”
The moment the words are out, I cringe a little, thinking I’ve offered this woman a back-handed insult. However, she takes no offence and laughs, that throaty rasp the nation knows spilling out.
“No,” she chuckles, “and it wasn’t me going all cougar on him either. Although it was fun pretending.” Her eyes spark with wicked glee at the memory.
I smile. “You did a good job convincing a few million people otherwise.” She’s a brilliant actor. Anyone watching that show would fully believe her goal was to sink those red claws into Christian’s young body.
Now, seeing her and Tommy together—her love for the stocky rough around the edges guy with his incongruous Cockney accent and designer leisure wear is on full display here in their home; and his adoration and tender concern for the surprisingly serene and kind woman in front of me is indisputable—I have no doubt Loreena had no need or desire to ensnare Christian.
“Oh, of course I was drawn to him,” she says. “And him to me. But not like that. You see, while we might appear very different,Christian and I are the same. We recognised that in each other. The world sees both of us in a certain way. They want to label us, judge us, and find us wanting, so they can feel justified in saying hurtful things about us. They get to say things they’d never say to our faces, and no one calls them out on it. I’m no psychologist, but I think most people need an outlet for all the nastiness inside them. Society expects us to hide it. Be nice, polite, respectful. But with celebrities, particularly ones who are portrayed as behaving badly—well, they’re fair game.”
I nod and shuffle a little in the seat, feeling the warmth of shame rising in my cheeks. Loreena is exactly right. I know, because I’ve been one of those people. Judged her, judged Christian, and all the others paraded across our screens and in the newspapers. From Loreena’s sympathetic gaze, I suspect she understands the reason for my discomfort. Shouldn’t I be the one offering sympathy here?
“I’m sorry,” I stumble over the words. “I…”
She extends a hand across mine. “It’s fine,” she says. “And I’ll be the first to admit I bring some of it on myself.” There’s that hint of wicked fun in the upturn of her mouth. “But he doesn’t. It’s not fair.” Her smile falls, a wistful shadow dimming her eyes, like a cloud marring the blue of a summer sky. “Anyway,” she says briskly, gathering herself a little straighter in her chair, summoning a brighter tone. “Let me tell you how we ended up here.”
Loreena explains how things rolled out on the show. I know most of it, but it’s safer to pretend ignorance. If I have to live the lie, swear Christian told me nothing, she’ll be a useful witness, who can back me in the claim that everything I know aboutWild For The Wincame from her.
She howls with delight at the producers unwittingly throwing her and Christian together. But there’s a fleeting sadness in her eyes as she suggests what everyone knows—from the beginning, it was obvious one of them would have won the prize. Her charity, a women’s refuge, is one she’s supported for a long time and she’ll donate to them, anyway. There’s no doubt, judging by this house, Tommy and Loreena are seriously wealthy. Through their ability to give generously, the refuge won’t be short of money over the holiday season. Sadly, Christmas isn’t a time of peace and harmony for everyone, rather one where family violence escalates, so it’s much needed. Although, it’s because of Loreena’s connection to the refuge that the implication in last night’s episode, that Christian hurt her enrages her even more.
“That they’d fabricate a story about something like that…it’s so wrong.” She shakes her head with a frustrated huff, blue eyes blazing. “You see, if I say nothing, Christian has to live with everyone thinking he’s a bad man, not the gentle, caring guy we know. But, if I come out and claim it’s not true…well, some people are going to sayIlied—accusing him and then backing off for fear of being caught out in the lie. It feeds the myth that women make false accusations.” There’s an angry set to her mouth, her face flushed with indignation. “You know I’ve spent a lot of time at the refuge. I’ve sat with these women, heard their stories. So many are too frightened to speak up; often they’re scared no one will believe them. Things like the kind of stunt those bastards pulled on nationwide TV perpetuate that fear.”
She pauses a moment, one arm folded across her chest, propping her chin on the other, and her mouth lifts in a smile. “I’m ashamed to admit, when I watched the episode last night, it made me want todish out a bit of violence of my own,” she says with a coy dip of her head. “But Tommy told me to settle down. And he’s right—there are better ways. Money is their god, and that’s where we’re going to hit them. Right where it will hurt them most.”
“We?” I ask. “You and Tommy.”
“No.” She spreads her palms wide. “What can I do? I’m stuck here.Youand Tommy.”
I nod. I’d thought if I was to help Christian, I’d be fighting this on my own. Now it seems I’ll have an ally. That’s a relief, especially as it’s a man who looks like he’s the veteran of a few fights. Tommy Bunt certainly didn’t achieve all he has by being timid.
“My lawyer friend came by last night and took a look at the agreement Christian signed. She thinks it only preventshimfrom blowing the whistle on them. That they can’t touch him legally if the information about what he did comes from someone else. Like you.”
She smirks, nodding. “Tommy’s going to be pissed. He paid his lawyer a large amount of money to come to the same conclusion. It seems, in the hurry to bundle us off out of there, they didn’t cover all their bases.”
As if he’s heard his name, Tommy arrives with a fresh pot of tea and a plate heaped with neat triangular sandwiches. He settles into an armchair, a twin of the one Loreena’s in. They’re an unlikely king and queen, side by side on their thrones.
“Right,” he says, keen blue eyes darting between us. “Whatcha thinking, ladies?”
Two hours go by, and as I stand to leave, there’s a wrench as if I’m parting from old friends. I want to spend more time with these two; and it seems I will be with Tommy at least, as we fire off texts tolawyers, mine to Rachel, and his to a man named Jeremy. The plan is for the four of us to meet to plot strategy tomorrow.
Raymond, who oddly doubles as a makeshift butler as well as Tommy’s spy, greets me at the front door with my coat in hand. I button it tight, ready to face the bleak outside, where the day has disappeared, and the late afternoon sky hangs heavy with cloud. Loreena waits, Tommy the shorter of the pair hovering behind her. As I sling my bag over my shoulder, she steps in, embracing me in a hug so hard I can barely breathe; my face crushed against her ample breasts, her hands clasped around my head. I breathe in the heavy spice of her perfume, a sultry oriental fragrance, so like the sexy bedroom-eyed Loreena she presents to the world, it might have been crafted for her. Standing back, she gives me a smug smile.
