‘Good photos,’ points out Primrose. ‘Especially that one of Marcus playing his guitar. Who took them?’
I frown, thinking back. ‘There was a woman in the passenger seat of the car in front, remember? She was taking photos and Marcus went to talk to her. Maybe that’s where they came from.’
‘Well, anyway, it’s a great story,’ says Katja, grinning. ‘You’ll need to get a copy, Maddy.’
‘It’s yours,’ says Primrose, handing it over.
‘Thank you.’ I smile at her, still wondering about Sheila writing the story. The only person she could have got the details of that day from was Marcus. So he must have approached her before we met up in the cafe, I guess knowing that as a journalist, she’d be on the look-out for interesting stories.
So our ‘accidental’ meeting with Sheila in the café wasn’t an accident at all. Marcus must have set it up so Sheila could meet me and flesh out the full story for the paper? A memory flashes into my mind: Marcus talking intensely into the phone, the day I introduced myself to him. He said he was phoning the studio to check it was okay for me to go along with him. But now I think he was probably talking to Sheila, setting up the story.
I notice at the end, she’s added a bit about Marcus’s career, specifically about him appearing at a music festival next year, and there’s also a photo of him with a snorkel. It’s the same photo that was in the cutting Mum showed me. That ‘dog snorkelling’ charity event he took part in.
I recall them joking that Sheila was his ‘agent’. She’s certainly given him a good old plug in this story, that’s for sure! The spread includes three pictures of Marcus – one carrying Jaz to the ambulance, one playing guitar on the grass verge and another looking mud-streaked with the snorkel. There’s just one rather blurred head and shoulders shot of me, and I know exactly when it was taken. The woman in the traffic jam snapped a group photo of us at Marcus’s request. The sub-editors must have cropped everyone else out of that shot, apart from me.
It seems weird that thousands of people will be reading about Marcus and me during their coffee break!
Elaine has done a brilliant promotional job.
But why didn’t Marcus just tell me what he’d planned when he introduced me to Elaine?
I wouldn’t have said no.
‘You okay, Maddy?’ asks Ellie.
‘Yeah. I’m fine, thanks. I suppose it’s nice that Marcus wanted to tell our story in the paper.’
‘It means he’s as excited about your meeting up as you are,’ points out Primrose.
I nod. ‘He’s been really positive from the word go. I mean, I was worried he might be suspicious of me just turning up and revealing who I was. But there was no awkwardness there at all. He accepted me straight away, and we’ve been getting on really well ever since.’
‘It’s the perfect result, then,’ says Ellie, and we exchange a smile.
‘I’d be a little bit careful if I were you,’ puts in Jaz, and everyone looks in her direction.
I frown. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, he was pretty quick off the mark getting that story in the paper. Shouldn’t he have talked it over with you before he did something like that?’
I shrug. ‘I guess if you’re in the entertainment industry, working for yourself, you have to be alert for any opportunity to promote yourself. I say good for him. It proves how committed he is to his art.’
‘He still should have asked you if you minded having your photo in the paper.’
‘Well, he didn’t. Are you going to hang him for that?’
She shrugs. ‘I just don’t think you should be so starry-eyed, thinking Marcus is perfect, and comparing him to Barry.’
‘But I don’t think he’s perfect! Whatever gives you that idea?’
‘Just the way you talk about him. You never talk about your real dad in those terms, and let’s face it you put him through hell when you were growing up. Him and your mum, with your stupid behaviour.’
‘Yes, thanks for that, Jaz! I don’t need reminding I wasn’t the perfect teenager.’
‘Well, apparently you do. Your Mum and Dad put up with an awful lot of crap from you, by the sounds of things, so I think you bloody well owe them some loyalty. How do you imagine they’d feel, knowing you’re seeing Marcus behind their backs?’
‘Jaz,’ appeals Ellie softly. ‘Cut her some slack. Maddy’s going through a bit of a weird time.’
Jaz sighs. ‘Sorry,’ she says grudgingly, not looking at me.
‘Well, anyway,’ says Katja. ‘It’s fantastic that you’ve found each other, Maddy. I really hope things work out well. Don’t you, Jaz?’
She forces a smile. ‘Yes, of course I do.’ Then she groans. ‘Oh, God, sorry for being such a bloody grouch. It’s this rain! It’s so depressing after all the gorgeous weather we’ve been having. But you should definitely talk to your parents about Marcus. They deserve to know.’
I nod impatiently. ‘I know, Jaz. And I will!’
*****
Later, I phone Mum. She sounds over the moon to hear from me, making me feel very guilty.
They’re having a great time in Jersey, apparently, and we agree a day for me to go over there for dinner, once they’re back.
‘We miss you,’ she says. ‘Especially your dad.’
I swallow hard. ‘Miss you, too. See you soon.’
What Jaz said about putting them through hell when I was younger has lodged itself in my head. I’ve tried to put my behaviour back then behind me, but the bad memories are flooding in again and I can’t shake them free.
I hated school. I was restless in class and often disruptive, egging my friends on to act up during lessons, with the result that I was forever getting detention. This came home on my school reports and I was compared unfavourably to Chloe and Jasmine, who were model pupils. Did this make me determined to be better behaved? No, I just rebelled even more, and from about fourteen, I bunked off school on more than one occasion to hang around the underpass and drink cider with my mates.
For a while, I used to go around with a couple of girls – Demi and Caz - who were two years above me at school. I suppose I thought it made me look cool, and having a naturally curious nature, I wasn’t about to refuse when they offered to introduce me to smokes of a rather more interesting variety than plain tobacco. I quickly became a dab hand at rolling spliffs, although that adventure came to a rather abrupt halt when we were caught by the local community police smoking one night under the railway bridge. I’ll never forget the horror on Mum and Dad’s faces when two policemen came knocking on the door and proceeded to deliver a stern lecture on the potentially detrimental effect on my future of breaking the law.
Caz and Demi were into shop-lifting – sweets and make-up, mostly – and they encouraged me to try it, although once was enough for me. Mr Owen, the newsagent, almost caught me and I knew that if Dad found out, he’d be absolutely livid.
But the incident I regret most of all was the day I thought it would be great fun to pile into a car with my mates – a car that was being driven by a boy in the sixth form who hadn’t even passed his test. The vehicle ended up in a ditch and a few of us – me included – had to be treated in hospital for cuts and bruises. I had a nasty gash on my cheek and Mum fussed around when they got me home, making sure I was okay, but I thought Dad would actually explode with rage.