Chapters (39)
- Cover
- Praise for Hannah Begbie:
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Acknowledgements
- If you enjoyed Blurred Lines, keep reading for a taste of Hannah Begbie’s first novel Mother.
- PROLOGUE
- About the Author
- Also by Hannah Begbie
- About the Publisher
‘So, yes, it’s not quite Amber making the allegation but her mate, Hennessy. I’m not sure it makes a difference, really. Once it’s out there it’s out there. I have to decide whether to go after him for slander, or make a statement and let it fizzle out. It’s hard to know exactly what’s best. Do you know him, Hennessy?’
‘Not personally.’
‘He’s not a great actor. If I sue him, it’ll be catnip for him. He’ll be in the papers every day for weeks. Darren at IcePR agrees. We’re thinking it might be better just to weather it …’
‘Why would he even say that?’
‘What? That I raped her?’
Becky nods.
‘Perhaps she told him that.’
‘Why would she say that though?’
‘Bitter, perhaps? I turned her down for a big part she thought was hers. Maybe it’s a kind of revenge.’
‘So she planned for Ollie to blurt it out like that?’
‘Come on. You know how often photographers just “happen” to be there when an actor does or says something they’d like to have recorded. We’ve worked on those things ourselves.’
She can feel her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Did he or didn’t he or did he or didn’t he. She has to hold it together. ‘I … I … What would you like from me, Matthew?’
‘Your advice and then your help with making this go away. You and I have work riding on this. IcePR are great but I need a sounding board. I’m not going to blame you if this doesn’t go my way, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘No! God, no. Not at all. Of course, I’ll do anything I can.’
‘Great.’
He looks tired and lost and not at all like a criminal. She feels sorry for this man who has paid her wages, who bothers to send Maisie birthday cards and who asked after her that time she had pneumonia, wished her well during exams.
She knows he won’t have eaten – he never eats when he’s stressed – so she takes the bottle of water and the pretzels she’s been given on the plane out of her bag. Lays them on the table.
He ignores them both and lights a cigarette. ‘You’ll need to take care of yourself.’ He pauses. ‘I’ve spent the morning talking to financiers, casting directors, the whole shooting match for the rest of our slate. They’re all good, all calm. No one’s worried. But Medea is vulnerable. It’s got those strong themes and … I don’t want a stupid bit of gossip surrounding me to affect your film’s shot at getting made.’ Becky understands immediately that there is a deal being made here. ‘So what do you think I should do?’
‘About Medea?’