‘You’re not a celebrity!’ says Suze scoffingly.
‘Yes I am!’
‘Not a proper one. Not like Sage.’
‘Yes I am!’ I say furiously. ‘They all said I was at CAA. Even Sage said so. And I need a bodyguard. In fact, I’m going to sort it out right now.’ And I head out of the kitchen, full of indignation. I’ll show Suze. I’m going to phone Aran’s assistant and get the name of the top Hollywood security company and hire a bodyguard. I don’t care what she thinks.
From:
[email protected]
To: Brandon, Rebecca
Subject: Your security requirements
* * *
Dear Rebecca
It was good to talk to you earlier and I attach a link to our online brochure of our products and services. I’m sure we can provide you with the range of security solutions you will need in your new, high-profile position, whether this be in the form of personnel, or home security/surveillance equipment.
As regards the DF 4000 Deluxe X-ray body scanner we were discussing, please be assured, I have never known a case of a husband ‘using it to track down shopping parcels hidden about his wife’s person’.
I look forward to hearing from you and fulfilling your security needs.
Best wishes
Blake Wilson
Security Facilitation Vice-President
SIXTEEN
It’s fine. It’s all good. We’ll get used to this.
I’m sure every family finds it tricky at first, having a bodyguard.
It only took twenty-four hours to fix myself up with a security team. The company couldn’t have been more helpful, and they totally understood that I need extra protection now I’m in the public eye. After a bit of discussion we decided that I maybe didn’t need an armed twenty-four-hour squad, but I could start with what they call ‘Mid-Level Protection’. My team began work this morning, and so far they’ve been brilliant. There’s Jeff and Mitchell, who are both dressed in dark suits and shades. And there’s Echo the German shepherd dog, who was trained in Russia, apparently. We’ve had a briefing meeting to discuss my requirements, and we’ve discussed my itinerary for the day. Now Mitchell is touring the house with Echo in order to check the ‘ongoing security of the premises’, while Jeff sits in the kitchen in order to provide ‘personal integrity reinforcement’.
The only thing is, it’s a bit awkward having Jeff in the kitchen at breakfast. He just sits there at the side of the room and looks unsmilingly at everyone, and mutters things into his headset. But we’ll have to get used to it, now we’re a celebrity family.
There’s still no word from Dad, beyond a text he sent Mum late yesterday, saying:
Landed fine in LA. Have some things to take care of.
Remember to water the roses. Graham xxx
Remember to water the roses. I mean, honestly. Mum nearly had a fit. I’ve already spoken to her today on the phone, and I’ve got lots of messages to pass on to Dad, should I see him. (Most would result in instant divorce, so I think I might forget about those.) I just hope he’s OK. I mean, I know he’s a grown man, but I can’t help worrying. What ‘things’ is he taking care of? Why hasn’t he told Mum? What’s the big secret?
I pour myself some coffee, and offer the coffee pot to Tarquin, but he doesn’t notice. He’s munching a piece of toast and listening to his iPod, which is his new thing. He says he has to start the day with an hour of guided meditation, and it drives Suze mad.
‘Tarkie!’ She pokes him. ‘I said, I might meet my agent this afternoon. Can you pick the children up?’
Tarkie gives her a blank look and takes another bite of toast. He looks so different these days. He’s tanned, and his hair is cropped really close to his head (Suze hates that too) and he’s wearing a soft grey T-shirt with a logo of the sun on it. I’ve seen them in the gift shop at Golden Peace. There’s a special course called Turn to the Sun, and lots of merchandise to go with it, only I don’t know what it’s all about, because I never did it.
It has to be said, I’m just a tad less into Golden Peace than I was. I think I’ve grown out of it. It’s a natural process: you gain everything you can from a place and then you move on. I mean, I’m totally cured of shopping now, so what’s the point of going back? (Plus the gift shop is online, so if I need anything from it I can just log on.)
‘Tarkie!’ Suze rips an earbud out of Tarkie’s ear, and he flinches in irritation.
‘Suze, I need to concentrate,’ he says, and pushes his chair back with a scraping sound.
‘You don’t! What does that thing say anyway? “Stop listening to your wife”? “Stop engaging with the real world”?’
Tarkie glares at her. ‘It’s a tailor-made meditation recorded by Bryce. He says my psyche is battered by the world and I need to retreat.’
‘I’ll batter him,’ mutters Suze.
‘Why are you so negative?’ Tarkie clutches his head. ‘Suze, you’re toxic. Finally I’m getting my head together and you have to … to … to sabotage me.’
‘I’m not sabotaging you!’ Suze yells. ‘Don’t you dare call me toxic! Who brought you to LA in the first place? Who said you needed a break? Me!’
Tarkie isn’t paying any attention to her, I realize. He’s focusing on a far corner of the kitchen, breathing deeply.
‘Tarkie?’ Suze waves a hand in front of his face. ‘Tar-quin.’
‘Bryce said this would happen,’ he says as though to himself. ‘People outside the method are afraid of it.’
‘What method?’ expostulates Suze.
‘You need to strip yourself bare to build yourself back up again,’ says Tarquin, as though the very fact of having to explain it pains him. ‘You need to strip away every level. Do you know how many levels we all have?’ He rounds on Suze. ‘Do you realize how much work I still have to do?’
‘You’ve done enough work,’ says Suze savagely.
‘No I haven’t! You’re obstructing me!’ He sweeps the whole kitchen with his gaze. ‘You’re all obstructing me!’ He shoves his earbud back in his ear, swivels on his heel and stalks out of the room.
I’m open-mouthed in astonishment. I’ve never seen Tarkie so antagonistic. He was practically snarling at Suze. I mean, in some ways it’s great, because for a long time I’ve felt he was too timid. On the other hand, Suze looks like she wants to murder him. No, correction: she now looks like she wants to murder me.
She turns on me. ‘This is all your fault.’
‘My fault?’
‘You introduced him to that place! You introduced him to Bryce! Now he’s calling me “toxic”! His own wife! He won’t talk to me, he won’t listen, he just moons around with that wretched iPod, God knows what it’s saying to him …’
‘It’s probably just saying really positive, helpful stuff,’ I say defensively. ‘I mean, I went to zillions of classes at Golden Peace and I’m fine.’
‘You’re not vulnerable like Tarkie!’ snaps Suze. ‘Honestly, Bex, I could kill you!’
Instantly Jeff is on his feet.
‘Are we having some trouble here?’ He advances on Suze, reaching for his holster thing. (It’s not a gun. It’s a baton.)
Suze stares at him in disbelief.
‘Are you threatening me? Bex, is this for real?’
‘Just checking we don’t have any trouble, ma’am,’ says Jeff implacably. ‘Rebecca, are you OK?’
‘Fine, thanks,’ I say, embarrassed. ‘It’s OK, Jeff.’
As he takes his seat again, Ernie, Clementine and Wilfie come running into the kitchen. They adore the new bodyguard team. They’ve been following Mitchell around the garden and now they come to a halt in front of Jeff. Ernest is leading the way and Clementine is hanging back a little, her thumb in her mouth.
‘Where’s your dog?’ says Wilfie to Jeff.
‘Jeff doesn’t have a dog,’ I explain.
‘Sarabande at school has got a bodyguard all the time,’ says Ernest importantly. ‘Her father’s a
billionaire. Her bodyguard is called Tyrell and he can do magic tricks.’
‘Well,’ says Suze tightly. ‘Lucky Sarabande.’
‘If people attack you, then your bodyguard stops them,’ adds Ernie knowledgeably. ‘Help! Jeff!’ He clutches at his throat. ‘I’m being attacked by aliens! Help!’
‘Help!’ chimes in Wilfie. He falls to the floor and starts writhing. ‘A snake is eating me! Save me! Jeff!’ He turns agonized eyes on Jeff. ‘Jeff! My legs have gone!’
‘Stop it, boys,’ says Suze, giggling. ‘Wilfie, get up.’
Jeff hasn’t moved a muscle. He looks supremely unamused. Now Wilfie gets up and surveys him closely.
‘Do you have special powers?’ he says. ‘Can you go invisible?’
‘Of course he can’t go invisible,’ says Ernie scathingly. ‘He can do kung fu. Ha-ya!’ He emits a high-pitched cry and starts doing kung fu moves all over the kitchen.
‘Can I sit on your knee?’ says Clementine, prodding Jeff’s leg. ‘Can you tell me a story? Why do you have a moustache? It looks like a caterpillar.’
‘Clemmie, do you want some orange juice?’ I say quickly. ‘Come and sit at the table.’ I’m about to pour her a glass when Jeff leaps to his feet. Before I know it, he’s at the door of the kitchen, barring the way and muttering urgently into his headset.
‘Sir, can I ask you to verify your identity?’ he’s saying. ‘Sir, could I ask you to remain there?’
‘I’m Luke Brandon,’ I hear Luke saying testily, outside the kitchen door. ‘I’m the master of the house. This is my daughter, Minnie.’
‘I don’t have you on my list, sir. Could you please step to one side?’
‘It’s OK!’ I call hurriedly. ‘He’s my husband!’
‘Rebecca, he’s not on the list.’ Jeff gives me a reproachful look. ‘We need everyone to be on the list.’
‘Sorry! I thought he went without saying.’
‘When it comes to personal security, no one goes without saying,’ says Jeff severely. ‘All right, sir, you may step forward.’
‘You didn’t put me on the list?’ As Luke enters the kitchen, holding Minnie’s hand, he’s goggling with disbelief. ‘You didn’t put me on the list?’
‘I meant to! I mean … I didn’t think I needed to.’
‘Becky, this is ludicrous. Two bodyguards?’
‘Sage recommended it,’ I say defiantly. ‘She said you can’t be too careful.’
‘Doggie!’ Minnie points joyfully at the window where Mitchell is leading Echo past, talking feverishly into his headset. ‘See doggie!’
‘You’re not going near that doggie,’ says Luke firmly. ‘Becky, that dog is going to maul Minnie.’
‘She won’t. She’s under control. She was trained in Russia,’ I add proudly.
‘I don’t care where she was trained! She’s an attack dog!’
The buzzer sounds and Jeff instantly stiffens.
‘I’ll take care of this.’ He mutters into his headset, ‘Mitch, do you read me? Secure Area A for delivery arrival. Repeat, secure Area A.’
As Jeff strides out of the kitchen, Luke and Suze exchange looks.
‘We can’t live like this.’ Luke pours himself a cup of coffee. ‘Becky, how long have you booked these clowns for?’
‘Don’t call them clowns! And I’ve booked them for a week.’
‘A week?’
‘Package for you.’ Jeff comes back into the kitchen, heaving a large crate with First Move Security Solutions on the side.
‘Security Solutions?’ Luke stares at the crate. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s … er … some stuff I bought.’
‘Oh Christ.’ He closes his eyes. ‘What have you done now?’
‘You don’t need to sound like that! It was recommended by the experts!’ I reach for a knife and jemmy off the top of the crate. ‘They said I might like to consider investing in extra security for my family. So I bought …’
I hesitate as I peer into the crate, slightly losing my nerve. They look a bit more military than I was expecting.
‘What?’ demands Luke. ‘What did you buy?’
‘Body armour.’ I try to sound casual. ‘Just as a precaution. Loads of celebrities wear it.’
‘Body armour?’ Luke’s voice rises incredulously. ‘You mean, bullet-proof vests?’
‘Bullet-proof vests?’ Suze spits out her tea. ‘Bex, you didn’t!’
‘This one is for you.’ I pull out the Panther model in taupe, which I thought would really suit Suze.
‘I’m not wearing a bullet-proof vest!’ she says in horror. ‘Get that thing away from me!’
‘How much did these cost?’ Luke is holding up the Leopard model in khaki green, with a finger and thumb.
‘It doesn’t matter how much they cost,’ I say defensively. ‘Who can put a price on the safety of loved ones? And anyway, there was a special offer. Buy four garments and get a stun gun free.’
‘A stun gun?’ Luke recoils.
‘Every family should have a stun gun,’ I say, more confidently than I feel.
‘You’ve gone insane.’ Luke turns to Suze. ‘She’s insane.’
‘Luke, I’m not a civilian any more!’ I exclaim. ‘Life has changed! Don’t you understand that?’
I feel so frustrated. Why don’t they get it? Sage understands, and the man at the security company totally understood. In fact, he thought I should buy a door-frame X-ray scanner, too, and change all our locks to ‘panic hardware’.
‘Becky, my darling,’ says Luke kindly. ‘You are totally and utterly deluded, if you think—’
He breaks off as a frantic barking comes from outside. The next minute, Jeff is on his feet, listening furiously to his earpiece.
‘Stay where you are,’ he says gruffly to me. ‘We have a situation.’ As he hurries out of the kitchen, I hear him ordering, ‘Describe the intruder.’
Situation? Intruder? My heart spasms in fear.
Well, if I’m honest, half in fear and half in triumph.
‘You see?’ I say to Luke. ‘You see? Minnie, darling, come here.’ I draw her protectively towards me, my voice quivering. She gazes up at me, her eyes huge and questioning, and I stroke her brow. ‘Children, stay away from the windows. We’ll be fine.’ I try to sound brave and positive. ‘Let’s just keep calm and sing “My Favourite Things”.’
We need a panic room. That’s what celebrities have. And maybe more dogs.
‘Is it a burglar?’ Clemmie starts to cry.
‘I’ll fight him,’ says Ernest boldly. ‘Ha-ya!’
‘Luke,’ I say quietly. ‘Get the stun gun out of the crate.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ Luke rolls his eyes. He takes a piece of toast out of the toaster and calmly spreads butter on it, then takes a bite. I stare at him in indignant disbelief. Is he heartless? Doesn’t he care about our safety?
‘Let go!’ A male voice is shouting from outside. Oh my God, it’s the intruder. ‘Call off that dog! Call it off!’
‘Identify yourself!’ Mitchell’s voice is booming through the air, and Echo is barking more loudly than ever. I can’t help feeling terrified and exhilarated, all at the same time. This is like something off the TV!
‘The burglar’s here!’ Clementine bursts into fresh, terrified sobs, and after a nanosecond, Minnie joins in.
‘For God’s sake!’ says Suze, and glances balefully at me. ‘Happy now?’
‘Don’t blame me!’
‘He’ll get us!’ Clementine wails. ‘He’s coming!’
There’s the sound of scuffling coming from the hall and men’s shouts, then a thump and a furious exclamation from one man, who suddenly sounds just like—
Hang on a minute. That’s not—
‘Dad?’ I yell incredulously, just as Jeff and Mitchell appear at the kitchen door, manhandling my father as though they’re cops in a movie and he’s the double-crossing vice-president who was found trying to climb out of a window.
‘Becky
!’
‘That’s my dad!’
‘Grandpa!’
‘We found this suspect prowling in the drive—’
‘I wasn’t prowling—’
‘Let go of him!’
We’re all speaking at once, and poor Wilfie has put his hands over his ears.
‘Let go of him!’ I yell again, above the hubbub. ‘He’s my father!’
Reluctantly, Mitchell lets go of Dad’s arm, which he had twisted behind his back. I mean, honestly. How could they think Dad was an intruder? You couldn’t see anyone less suspicious-looking than my dad. He’s wearing summer trousers and a blazer, and a panama hat, and he looks as though he’s about to go to a cricket match.
‘How’s my Minnie?’ he says in delight, as Minnie throws herself at him. ‘How’s my little sweetheart?’
‘Dad, what’s going on?’ I demand. ‘Why are you here? Mum’s so worried!’
‘Are you sure this is your dad?’ Mitchell says mistrustfully to me.
‘Of course I’m sure!’
‘Well, he’s not on the list.’ Jeff gives me his reproachful look again. ‘Rebecca, we need comprehensive information to work effectively.’
‘I didn’t know he was coming!’
‘So how did he access the drive? How did he open the gates?’ Jeff is still frowning suspiciously at Dad.
‘It’s the same code as the garage at home,’ says Dad cheerily. ‘I thought I’d chance it, and hey presto.’
‘I always use the same code,’ I explain to Jeff. ‘It’s the same as my pin number, too. And my mum’s. That way, we can get money out for each other. It’s really handy.’
‘You use the same code for everything?’ Jeff looks aghast. ‘Your mother has the same code? Rebecca, we talked about code safety.’
‘Oh, right,’ I say guiltily. ‘OK. I’ll change it. One of them. All of them.’
(I’m so not going to change anything. Four numbers is hard enough to remember as it is.)
‘Welcome, Graham.’ Luke is shaking Dad’s hand. ‘Would you like some breakfast? You’ll be staying with us, of course.’