In Focus (2009) (6 page)

‘You’ve heard his story. Well, most of it’s true. He really was a street kid, lost touch with his family for years. It tugs the heart strings. We’ve had a huge response. This new segment is going to make our ratings soar.’

‘Has it ever occurred to you that you could hurt people with this?’

‘And has it ever occurred to you, Edward, that I can help people, too? Really help them. Besides, no risk, no gain. They know that.’

‘
You
– wanting to help people out of altruism?’

Pete shrugged. ‘Why not? It’s good for my image.’

‘You should stick to what you do best: interviewing celebrities.’

‘You’ve got to change and grow, or you lose ground in this business.’

Edward was sick of his cousin’s almost total focus on his career. ‘You have a tendency to play with fire. Don’t expect me to pull you out of the flames every time. I’ve got a life to lead as well, you know.’

But he could see that Pete wasn’t really listening.

Feeling a little guilty at not going back to work after the visit to the hairdresser’s, and taking the whole day off, Beth rang the office. Sandy assured her that everything was under control and she wasn’t needed.

She put the food she’d bought in the fridge, which was better stocked than it had been for ages, and went along to her bedroom to gloat over the new outfit. It really was beautiful.

When the phone rang she glanced at the caller ID and saw it was withheld. Was it, could it be . . .? She snatched up the phone. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Jo. Oh, Jo.’

‘You’ll be getting tired of me if I ring you too often.’

‘No, I won’t. You couldn’t ring too often for me.’

The silence that followed seemed louder than words. Beth held her breath, wondering if she’d been too gushy.

‘Well, I might make it more often then. What have you been doing with yourself, Mum?’

‘Buying some new clothes. Renée said I was looking like a bagwoman.’

Jo chuckled. ‘But a very clean and tidy bagwoman, I’m sure.’

‘Yes. Too clean and tidy sometimes.’

‘I didn’t understand then, Mum. I do now. Oh, hell, I’m crying.’

The call cut off abruptly.

Beth stared at the phone then set it gently into its cradle. Was it a good sign or a bad one that Jo had been crying? She willed the phone to ring again, but it didn’t. When she went into the kitchen, she found she’d lost all appetite so wandered back into the living room, unable to settle. She stared at her new self in the mirror: hair in a gleaming jaw-length bob, eye make-up – though Renée said she should get her eyeliner tattooed on to make things easier. Why hadn’t she noticed before how very thin she was? She’d never been this scrawny before.

‘You’ve got to eat better, my girl,’
she told that gaunt figure in the mirror. Going back to the kitchen, she forced some food down, though the sandwich could have been filled with sawdust for all she tasted of the meat and salad it contained.

All the time her thoughts kept returning to Jo. As she tidied away her crockery, she found herself crying again, not sobbing but unable to hold back the tears that would trickle down her cheeks.

She had to believe she and Jo would get together again. Had to.

Her daughter was almost twenty-two now. Did she still look the same? Or was she full of studs and tattoos like some of the young women you saw in the streets?

Dammit, a mother should know what her own daughter looked like!

Suddenly Beth thought of Pete Newbury’s new segment and could understand exactly why people went on it. If she’d not heard from Jo, if she never heard from her daughter again, it’d be a comfort to have a photo of what she might look like. Well, she thought it would.

Oh, she didn’t know anything tonight!

Four

Edward remained uneasy about the new segment of the show. If his cousin was moving beyond the light entertainment for which he was famous, he might upset some of his audience. It was such a balancing act, pleasing the public.

He went to the studio to watch the next show with the vague feeling that if something went wrong, it might be better if he were on the spot – though he couldn’t imagine what he’d be able to do. What did he know about computer programs?

Ten minutes to go. He sat in the waiting area, making meaningless conversation with the first guest, a female singer whose songs left him cold and whose clothes left so little to the imagination he didn’t know where to look.

Music blared forth on the set, jiggling happy music, and the guest was led away.

Pete welcomed her to the show and conducted the first interview with his usual warmth and skill, but even he found it hard to draw interesting answers out of such an airhead.

Just before the interview ended, the celebrity for the regression segment came into the waiting area. Cassadee didn’t attempt to make eye contact with Edward or even sit down, just began pacing up and down, four steps each way.

He was clearly nervous about what they’d discovered about his past. Pete had decided not to tell those appearing the details, insisting there would be no drama if the segment didn’t come up with a few surprises.

Edward was suspicious of surprises, especially in a public arena.

Soon after Cassadee left the waiting area to join Pete, the music changed to something Edward hadn’t heard before, something softer and rather wistful.

‘Who Am I?’
It was a woman doing the voiceover now. They’d chosen an older woman, for motherly reassurance. She did a quick reprise of Cassadee’s appearance on the previous week’s show, then Pete took over live.

‘We had an amazing response to last week’s segment, so we brought Cassadee straight back, instead of waiting a week or two. He doesn’t know what we’ve found out, though. Are you ready to face your past, Cassadee?’

‘I’m here, aren’t I? Bring it on.’

Beth looked at the clock. Two minutes to go. Should she watch
In Focus
tonight or not? It had upset her last week because of the coincidental resemblance to her brother. Oh, she was being silly! She was stupid to let mere chance get to her.

She pointed the remote at the TV and clicked, wondering if the new segment would continue to be as gripping.

She’d missed the intros but saw Pete smiling like a wolf about to pounce on a lamb.

‘We’ve found someone from your past.’

Next to him Cassadee stiffened visibly.

‘This person knew you at the age of fifteen, so will be able to verify the computer images.’

Poker-faced, Cassadee inclined his head.

Pete gestured to the side not normally used for guest entrances. ‘Folks, let’s welcome Stacey, another person who doesn’t use a surname.’

The camera turned back to Cassadee, however, instead of going to the newcomer. At the sound of the name, his mouth fell half open, then he mouthed the word, ‘Stace.’

He looked like a man in pain to Beth and not for the first time, she wondered if this segment was going to be kind to those who participated in it. It had seemed so simple when she first heard about it. Just show a computer image and get the viewers to help that person find their past. But last week, Mrs Newbury had been really upset by her son’s incorrect image – and so had Beth.

The camera stayed on Cassadee as he took a deep breath and stood up, then at last it panned to the guest.

The woman who walked on to the set looked as if she’d lived a very hard life. She could have been any age from thirty to fifty. Her clothes were clearly brand new, hanging on a body thin to emaciation, and her hair hung straight and long down her back. Even the make-up couldn’t give her a healthy look.

The camera caught the fact that her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Cassadee.

He went straight across to scoop her up into his arms and give her a long hug. ‘I can’t believe it’s you.’

‘Bad pennies always turn up again,’ she said in a slightly hoarse voice.

‘You were never a bad penny, Stace, just a lost penny.’

Pete interrupted and got them sitting down then the programme continued, but the undercurrents between Cassadee and Stacey showed in their faces and the occasional glance sideways. Once she reached out to touch him, as if she couldn’t believe he was real, and the camera was on to it. He turned his head and patted her hand briefly, then looked back at his interviewer, the guarded expression slipping back into place.

The encounter had the audience riveted, as a straightforward, happy reunion could never have done.

On being questioned, Stacey too put the accuracy of the computer image at ninety per cent. ‘It doesn’t show his eyes properly, though,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘He was always kind and that showed in his eyes. He had his own troubles, but you felt he really listened to you. Helped me out a few times, he did, when I had no one else.’

When Pete judged that enough time had been spent on Stacey, he asked Al and Debbie to take the image back to six years old, and the Cassadee on the screen lost his bony, haunted look and became a lad again, with a lad’s innocent smile.

‘We not only had Stacey contact us but a relative of yours, who knew you as a lad,’ Pete said.

Beth had already noticed that the singer’s hands were white-knuckled against his jeans. When Pete mentioned a relative, the hands spasmed then lay still.

‘Who is it?’ Cassadee asked. ‘Must be a very distant relative.’

If he’d meant to sound casual and relaxed, he’d failed, Beth thought.

Pete smiled, let the silence continue for a moment or two, then said, ‘Not so distant. It’s your Uncle Steven.’

Cassadee jerked to his feet as a nervous-looking older man hesitated at the edge of the stage. As the man walked towards him, Cassadee strode quickly forward and punched the newcomer hard on the jaw, sending him flying into the first row of the audience.

Ignoring the upset this caused, Cassadee moved back to Pete and Stacey, snapping, ‘Get that creature off the set or I leave. And do your research better in future. One of the reasons I left home was because of that man, who shouldn’t be allowed near any innocent child.’

The programme cut abruptly to adverts and Beth leaned back in her chair, letting out a long, slow breath. Dangerous stuff, this.

She was glad she was never likely to go on this show or be interviewed by this new, harder Pete Newbury, who smiled so calmly as he tossed emotional grenades at his guests.

When the program resumed, nothing was said about the uncle. Beth watched the interview continue, heard Cassadee talk about his youth on the streets and found it gripping stuff. Stacey sat there quietly, nodding occasionally to corroborate something.

There was a grimness behind the singer’s calm expression now, though, an added sharpness in his tone. But both men were professionals and knew better than to add to the gossip by quarrelling on live TV.

Then photos from neighbours were produced and Cassadee relaxed, smiling and fingering the photos, thanking the donors and promising to go and thank them in person.

Edward groaned and buried his face in his hands after Cassadee punched the older man, but looked up again almost at once. When the adverts came on, he hurried towards the set.

He met the young assistant, Gerry, shepherding the uncle out of the studio and apologising to him for the upset.

‘It’s all right, lad. He has good reason to be angry. I’d like to have made my peace with him before I died, though – I’ve got cancer – but there you are.’

Edward walked over to join them. ‘We’ll get you checked out by a doctor, Mr Redwich, and then—’

‘No need, son. It was only a punch. Besides . . . I deserved it.’

Something inside Edward shuddered, because if this meant what he thought, he agreed that the punch was well deserved. ‘Do you need a taxi?’

The old man paused to look at Edward as if he knew what he was thinking. ‘Yeah. That might be best.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘With friends.’

He refused to give further details and Edward watched the taxi’s tail lights disappear, before going back into the studio.

The show’s ratings would no doubt rocket – but at the expense of others’ pain. Did he want to be involved in this sort of thing? No. Definitely not.

But he had no choice. His contract tied him to Pete for another six months. And anyway, Pete was his cousin. When something came unstuck, as it was bound to, there needed to be someone practical around to pick up the pieces. If only for his Aunt Sue’s sake. No one could call Pete practical.

Luckily this uncle fellow didn’t seem likely to make any claims for compensation.

When the segment ended, Edward went to the side of the set. He saw Cassadee wait till the signal was given that they were no longer on air then stand up. The singer ignored Pete’s outstretched hand, put one arm round Stacey’s shoulders and shepherded her off the set without a word of farewell.

Edward stepped out of the way but Cassadee, whom he’d met a few times, stopped to say, ‘Better pull the reins tighter on your damned cousin and get the researchers to check things out more carefully. He’s heading into danger territory.’

As if Edward wasn’t all too aware of that! ‘Will your uncle sue?’

The wolfish look was back. ‘He wouldn’t dare.’

‘He told me he had cancer, wanted to make his peace with you.’

‘There is no peace possible after what he did to me. If he’s got cancer, then I’m glad. It means there is some justice in the world.’

Cassadee looked down at the woman standing patiently beside him. He walked out of the studio with his arm still round Stacey’s shoulders, speaking gently now, the hard edge gone from his voice.

It was a moment or two before Edward returned to the waiting area, because the sight of them moved him deeply. He felt quite sure Cassadee was going to help his old friend, and equally certain she needed it desperately. So maybe some good had come out of this, after all.