‘Why did you agree to come and stay at Huntingdon Hall, and work on this book for Dad?’
Was that an easy one, to lull him into a false sense of security? Or did she just have no idea what to ask? Either way, he wasn’t going to be so gentle.
‘Because it’s the chance of a lifetime,’ he said with a shrug. Faint disappointment coloured Violet’s face, and he realised suddenly that maybe this wasn’t an easy question. Maybe she was asking more than he’d first thought. He paused, and considered the real answer. ‘The Screaming Lemons were my mum’s favourite band; they were the soundtrack to my childhood. So even if this wasn’t a great opportunity to really make my name—and hopefully some money—I’d still have wanted to take the job. Your dad, his friends, your family—you’re part of modern history. You matter to the collective memory of music lovers everywhere. I don’t want that to be lost when we’re all dead and gone.’
‘The music would live on,’ Violet said, her head tipped slightly to one side as she studied him. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
‘In lots of ways, yes. But the Lemons were more than just the music. They’re people too—people who mean a lot to their fans, like my mother. And I don’t want the truth of who they are to be lost to the stories and anecdotes of people who barely knew them.’ Had he even realised why this mattered to him until she’d asked? He didn’t think so. Until this moment, he’d thought he was just there to do a job—a fun, fulfilling and hopefully lucrative job, but a job nonetheless. Now it felt more like a vocation.
‘So is your mum pleased you’re doing it?’ Violet asked.
‘That’s a separate question,’ Tom pointed out with a frown. Why had he even mentioned his mother? She was the last thing he wanted to talk about, and he had put the idea in her head. He was normally sharper than this. ‘My turn first.’
Violet took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something deeply unpleasant. ‘Go on, then.’
What to ask? Or, rather, what to ask first? He had a lengthy list in his head of things he wanted to know, but where to start? If he went in with something too heavy, she might shy away. But if he started out gentle and they ran out of time, or she called a halt earlier than he’d like, he might never get to the important questions. Tricky.
In the end, he went for something in the middle.
‘How do you feel about your twin sister marrying your best friend?’
Violet rolled her eyes and picked up her sandwich with both hands. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to get to that.’ She took a bite of her sandwich—a stalling tactic, Tom decided. Something to make her look busy while she considered her answer.
‘You promised me the truth,’ he reminded her.
Violet swallowed her mouthful. ‘I know, I know. Okay, it’s a little bit weird, but I’m honestly really happy for them. I thought I was going to have to spend the rest of my life pretending to like Will’s fiancées, then celebrating when he inevitably ran off and left them at the altar. This time, I was praying for him to go through with it. They’re a good match.’
‘So why is it weird?’ Tom asked, hoping she wouldn’t notice him slipping in the extra question.
Violet tilted her head to the side, considering. ‘I guess just because it was never like that with us. Rose is practically my double, but there’s a chemistry and a connection between them that just never existed between me and Will. And now it’s my turn again.’
She smiled, her gaze catching his, and Tom found himself mesmerised by those bright blue eyes once more. He knew what she meant about the chemistry. He’d met Rose, had a very pleasant lunch and conversation with her. But he’d never found himself wanting to uncover all her secrets, or wanting to reach across and tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. If Rose had told him that no dating agency in the world would set them up, he’d have laughed with her—not stubbornly set out to prove her wrong.
Which was ridiculous. Violet was right—they had nothing in common, no shared history or world. So why was he trying so hard to find a connection between them? Even he wasn’t oblivious enough to pretend it was just for a story.
‘Go on, then,’ he said, breaking away from the look first. ‘Ask.’
‘I already have. Is your mum pleased you’re doing this story?’ Violet asked, and Tom’s gaze flew away from hers. ‘Sorry, only...you mentioned her before—that she was a big fan of Dad’s. I just wondered if you were close, I guess.’
‘She’s dead,’ Tom said, wincing at how blunt it came out. ‘I mean, she died, about seven years ago now. So, uh, she doesn’t know I’m here, but if she did...yeah, I think she’d be pleased. I think she’d have wanted to come too!’
‘I’m sorry.’ Violet’s eyes were wide and sad. ‘The way you talked about her, I just assumed... It must have been awful.’
Tom shrugged. ‘It was. Still is, in lots of ways. I miss her, of course. And I think about her a lot. But...’ Did he want to tell her this? One confidence in the hope of winning a lot more from her in return. ‘When she died...we weren’t on the best of terms. That’s what I regret most. Not having the time to make things right with her before she died.’
He’d expected the sympathy in Violet’s eyes, but not the sadness. ‘I really am sorry, Tom. But I think she must have known how much you loved her—I can tell just from five minutes speaking with you, and she knew you your whole life.’
‘I hope so.’ Tom reached for his pint as a distraction. ‘My turn. So...’ This was it. This was his chance to ask the question he really wanted to know the answer to, while she was still feeling sorry for him. So why didn’t he want to ask it, all of a sudden?
He pushed himself to, though. ‘The sex tape. Why did you never issue a statement about it? An apology or an explanation?’
‘Because it was nobody’s damn business,’ Violet snapped. ‘If they want to watch it, fine, I can’t stop them. But I don’t have to acknowledge it.’
‘Yeah, but a leaked sex tape... There’s always talk that the subject might have put it out themselves. For the publicity or whatever. You didn’t even deny that.’ And everybody denied that. That was what made the whole Sex Tape Twin scandal so strange.
Violet looked him straight in the eye, her mouth hard and her jaw tight. ‘Since I didn’t even know I was being filmed at the time, it seems unlikely that I’d have been able to leak it to the media, doesn’t it?’
‘You didn’t...you honestly didn’t know you were being filmed?’ Because that made it a whole different story. That...well, that explained a lot about why Violet was so touchy on the subject of trust.
‘Of course I didn’t! Do you really think I’d let someone film me doing...that?’ She shook her head. ‘Of course you do. Because you don’t know me at all, just like I said. All you know about me is what you’ve read on the internet, the same as everyone else. Despite the fact you’ve spent the last week in my home—and apparently learnt nothing at all.’
‘I didn’t... I just assumed...’ His arguments sounded stupid now. Of course Violet wouldn’t—this was the woman who trusted no one outside her family. Why would she trust someone to film her being that vulnerable? Except, of course, something had to have happened to make her that wary. And it would make sense for this to be it. ‘You looked straight into the camera, Violet. You had to know it was there.’
She blinked at him, shock in those blue eyes. ‘I...I did? God, how many times did you watch it, Tom?’
‘Not even once all the way through,’ he promised. ‘But there are stills...’
‘Oh, I know. Someone sent a whole pack of them to my parents, along with a note that read “Your daughter is a whore” in bright red lipstick.’
‘That’s...wow. That’s awful.’
‘Yeah.’ Reaching over,
Violet stole his pint and took a sip. Then she sighed. ‘Okay, look. I will tell you the story of the sex tape saga. But then that’s it for today, yeah? And if you use any of it in this damn book of yours—’
‘I should. You should want me to,’ Tom interrupted. ‘The world thinks that you filmed that tape on purpose. Half of them probably think you leaked it yourself. That’s all the world knows of you. Don’t you want them to know the truth?’
‘I just want them all to forget,’ Violet whispered, and something in Tom’s chest clenched tight at the misery in her voice.
‘Tell me what happened,’ he said, reaching across the table to take her hand.
Violet looked up, her eyes wide and sad, and said, ‘Okay.’
* * *
Oh, God, she didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to admit all over again how stupid she’d been. Stupid, naïve and blind. Or, as Rose put it, nineteen.
‘So, after I left boarding school, I took a gap year. I did some work experience at a newspaper because I thought I wanted to study journalism.’
‘You wanted to become a reporter? You?’
Violet rolled her eyes at the mocking disbelief on Tom’s face.
‘Yes. I was eighteen then, and a totally different person. And this will go a lot quicker if you don’t question everything.’ If he interrupted her too much, Violet wasn’t sure she could get through to the end of the story at all.
‘Sorry. Carry on.’ Tom took a big bite of his burger to show he wasn’t going to talk any more.
‘Okay, so I was working on this paper where no one cared who my parents were—or if they did, it was mostly only to complain about it. I wasn’t getting paid, and mostly I fetched coffee, made photocopies and—eventually, once they realised I wasn’t an idiot—checked copy and wrote filler pieces from press releases that got emailed in.’
‘Sounds familiar,’ Tom said through a mouthful of lunch.
‘While I was there, I met a guy.’
‘Less familiar.’
Violet tried to smile, to acknowledge his attempt to lighten the mood. But just thinking back to those days made her chest hurt. She’d been so young, so carefree. She’d really believed she could do anything she wanted, could be anyone if she just worked at it hard enough.