Finding out she was wrong had almost broken her.
‘He was called Nick. He was one of the paper’s senior reporters and he kind of took me under his wing. At first I thought it might be because of who my parents were—even then, I was used to people trying to get close to me just so they could get closer to them. But Nick didn’t seem interested in them. Only me.’ He’d made her feel so special—as if her family were the least interesting thing about her. No one had ever managed that before.
Of course, it was all a lie, which might have made it easier.
‘What happened?’ Tom’s expression was already grim, knowing how the story ended. Violet didn’t blame him. It wasn’t pretty.
‘We dated for a bit. He took me places I’d never even thought of going before. I thought...’ So, so naïve. ‘I thought it was something real. That he loved me as much as I believed I loved him.’
‘But he didn’t?’ There was no pity in Tom’s eyes, which she appreciated. The pity was almost worse than the laughter.
‘He filmed us in bed together without my knowledge, then put it out on the internet. I believe he also sold some of the photos to the highest bidder first.’
‘Bastard.’ Violet had never heard quite so much vehemence put into two syllables before.
‘The worst thing was...it took me a while to realise what he’d done. I thought it was a fake, or that someone had filmed us without our knowledge...’ She swallowed, not wanting to relive the next part. But she’d promised him the truth. ‘I went to see him, talking about lawyers and what we could do to get it taken down...and he laughed at me. As did the woman who was in his bed at the time.’
Tom winced at that. ‘Jesus. That’s...what a piece of work. No wonder you’ve been hiding out at Huntingdon Hall for the last eight years.’
Violet shrugged. ‘It’s safe there. I don’t have to deal with the press, or the public, or what everyone thinks they know about me, most of the time.’
‘So...that’s when you stopped trusting people?’
‘Do you blame me?’ Violet asked.
Tom shook his head. ‘No. But one thing I don’t understand. Why didn’t you let people know the truth? Put out a statement, or sue the scumbag?’
Rose had wanted her to, Violet remembered. Had wanted her to fight back, to fight as dirty as Nick had. She’d wanted to use every connection their parents had to ruin Nick’s life the way he’d wrecked hers.
But Violet had said no.
‘I didn’t want to be that person,’ she said, wondering if Tom would understand. Rose had, eventually, but it had taken years. ‘I didn’t want to drag things out in the papers and on the news. I didn’t want to make things all about me. I just wanted it to go away. For people to forget.’
‘Except they never did,’ Tom said.
Violet stared down at her plate. ‘No. They didn’t. And it’s too late now to change anyone’s ideas about me.’
‘Maybe not.’ Tom leant back in his chair, studying her so intently that it made Violet’s skin itch.
‘What do you mean?’
Tom shrugged. ‘I just wondered if maybe your dad’s determination to have me write this book, now, might have something to do with telling the truth about your story, too. Letting the world know what really happened at last.’
Violet shook her head. It wasn’t enough. ‘Why would they believe it? It’s too late now, anyway. It’s much harder to change entrenched beliefs than just telling the truth.’
Tom’s smile was slow and full of promise. ‘Then you clearly haven’t read much of my writing. Just wait and see what I can do.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘SO, WHERE DO you want to start today?’ Rick Cross lounged back in his chair in the little sitting room off his studio, looking utterly relaxed. A complete contrast to how his daughter had looked when Tom had asked her a few innocent questions over lunch at the start of the week.
Focus, Tom. He had the Rick Cross here ready to interview, and he did not have time to be distracted by thoughts of Violet.
‘Well, we’ve covered the basic history of the band—although there are lots of areas I want to dig deeper into later, when we have more time. But since I know you need to head out again in an hour...maybe we should use the time to talk about where The Screaming Lemons are today, and where they’re headed next?’
‘And the family. Don’t forget that,’ Rick said. ‘I want the story of my family to be told, as much as the band. And it’s exciting times around here at the moment.’
‘Of course.’ Including, presumably, Violet’s story. How did she feel about that? he wondered. On the one hand, it would mean everyone knowing the truth—and hadn’t he promised her he’d change the minds of the Great British—and American—public with his words? But even if the new press attention was more positive than it had ever been before, it would still put her front and centre again. And leave people talking about her sex life more than ever.
From what he’d learned of Violet, that wasn’t going to go down well.
‘But let’s start with the band,’ Tom said. He wanted to talk to Violet some more himself before he started discussing her with her father.
Rick gave him a knowing look. ‘Okay. What do you want to know?’
Tom already had every detail of the upcoming tour and album launch, what singles they were planning to release when, who’d written most of which song, and who’d done the cover art—and nothing that he couldn’t have got from an informative press release.
He needed to go deeper.
‘What issues did you run into writing and recording this album that you maybe haven’t had to worry about before?’ he asked.
Rick smirked. ‘You mean broken hips and playing the guitar with a walking frame now we’re all so old?’
‘Not necessarily.’ Tom gave him an apologetic smile. ‘But your last album was five years ago now, and life has to have changed for you all. Two of your daughters have got married, your first grandchild is on the way... Jez got divorced a couple of years ago, right?’ Rick nodded. ‘And the world—the music scene particularly—has changed too. How did that affect things?’
Leaning back in his chair, Rick brought one ankle up to rest on his opposite knee, obviously belying the need for hip replacements. He was only sixty, if that, Tom thought. There was a lot more music to come from the Lemons yet.
‘I think...the music scene changes by the minute. You can’t write songs to that. I let the marketing people worry about it, and we just get on with writing the best tunes we can. As for the family stuff... Every year we become more settled, happier in the place we’re in. We’re fortunate. We’re all healthy, living the lives we want to live.’ An uncomfortable look crossed his face and Tom knew he couldn’t not ask any more.
‘Except Violet,’ he said softly.
‘Except my Violet,’ Rick confirmed.
Tom put down his notepad on the low table between them, dropping his pen on top of it. His phone was still recording, of course, but he knew he wouldn’t use whatever Rick said next. Not officially, anyway.
‘Is that one of the reasons you asked me here?’
Rick raised an eyebrow. ‘You think you can make Violet happy? Get her to follow her dreams at last?’
‘Not that.’ Tom shook his head, hoping he wasn’t actually blushing in front of a rock legend. As if he’d be so presumptuous as to think he could fix Violet’s life. ‘I meant...the world never got to hear the true story. Their image of Violet, their beliefs about her—that’s a large part of what keeps her hiding away here. It did cross my mind that you might want this book to change that. To let people see the real Violet.’
Rick studied him for a long moment before answering, and Tom fought his impulse to look away. He had a feeling that this moment in time, this answer, would set the tone for every interview that followed. That Rick was judging him and his abilities right now, making a decision about how much to tell him—for this question and every one that came after.
> And Tom really, really wanted to be found worthy.
‘I think, in the end, that Violet will be the one to show the world what she’s really made of. She’ll be the one to stand up and say, You were wrong about me.’ Rick flashed a quick smile. ‘But anything you can do to help that along would be appreciated.’
* * *
Violet glared at the piece of paper in front of her as the phone in her hand clicked over to voicemail again.
‘You’ve reached Jake Collins, music agent. You know what to do at the beep.’
She hung up. If Olivia’s manager hadn’t responded to any of the other messages she’d left him in the days since their last phone call, not to mention the emails, then why would this message be any different?
Maybe she should threaten him, like Tom had. Except she was very afraid that Mr Collins would just laugh at her and go right back to ignoring her. Not ideal.