Fishing For A Dream [Book Three]

Chapter 13 - Hot Gossip

A newspaper landing heavily on my desk woke me from my daydreams of still being tucked up, cosy in bed. Wondering what I had done to offend Rose so badly that she would bring a copy of 'The Sun' into my presence, I looked up at her, confused. She silently pointed at the paper for me to look at it, but her face said it all.

'WHEN HARRY MET SCALLY'

The big, slightly blurry and grainy picture under the white, bolded headline was one of Harry and I. We were at Terry's wake, sat in the bedroom I had once shared with Will, and Harry was kissing me. Someone had photographed or filmed us, at a funeral, when he was trying to comfort me. All with the tagline of; 'EXCLUSIVE - HARRY STYLES AND THE MARRIED WOMAN'.

Someone had seen us and saw it as an opportunity to make a quick buck. And they hadn't only sent photographs, they'd told them everything about me: my childhood, Bianca, Will and Terry, and my affair with Harry. Then there was my name, my age and the ten-year age gap between me and Harry, and the name of the company, even which borough of London I lived in. It was all there in black and white, primed to be judged by anyone and everyone who read it. There was even a photo I had long forgotten about, a photo of Harry and I the night he'd turned up at one of Rose's events after he'd cheated on me, the night he confessed to it. We both looked uncomfortable, the smile on our faces not reaching our eyes, and both radiating that we'd rather be anywhere but there. We looked like two very different people from the ones we had become.

I felt sick. My stomach dropped, my heart began to race as panic set in, and the blood drained from my face. This was it.

"Fuck!" I finally exhaled. Nodding to the main office, I asked, "have they seen this?"

Rose grimaced and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "Yeah, they've seen it. I caught them in the break-room trying to work out if it was actually you. Vicky's speaking to them now, so they'll know not to speak to anyone. They love you, Lil, nobody will say a word."

"I'm... Who would do this? I wouldn't be so bothered by it if it was just a photo, but everything is there. And at Terry's funeral!" My voice had begun to rise, but I stopped and regained my composure. "In the house. It was a guest, it was someone I'd probably spoken to and thanked them for coming."

"I have no idea, Lil," Rose said, quietly, though I knew her well enough to know she probably had a few theories. I had my own, but I wasn't prepared to confront them, yet, preferring to believe it was someone who stumbled upon the moment rather than think it was someone I was close to. "Have you heard from Harry? Or Jeff?"

Picking up my phone, I shook my head. Harry was about to start his last few shows, all in California, so he would be fast asleep in his bed, peaceful and completely oblivious. "No, he'll be asleep. It's only 5 A.M. in LA. Jeff too, I would imagine."

I sent Harry a message asking him to call me as soon as he woke up, but bottled out of messaging Jeff. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was all my fault. Harry wasn't tabloid fodder anymore - he'd worked really hard to make sure of that - but there he was on the cover of a scummy paper, forever linked to my sordid past. I didn't want to message Jeff and be the one to inform him that someone I knew - because I knew almost everyone who'd been at the wake - had... there was a chance they had ruined everything. But maybe that had been their intention.