“No!” I say hastily. “It was just a mix-up, I’m sure.…”
“Mix-up? She stole it!” To my horror, Sage leaps to her feet. “Give me back my purse, Lois!” she yells.
“Oh Jesus,” says Aran, and meets Luke’s eyes.
“What is she doing?” Luke looks absolutely appalled.
Lois pauses in the reading and peers uncertainly out into the audience. Sage is striding to the stage, her eyes flashing. To my disbelief, she mounts the podium, her dress sparkling under the spotlights.
“That’s my purse,” she says, grabbing it off the lectern. “You’re a thief, Lois. A common little thief.”
“No.” Aran bangs his head down on the table, as all the photographers rush forward and start snapping.
“I didn’t steal anything.” Lois looks flabbergasted. “This was given to me by my stylist, Rebecca.”
“She gave it to me,” Sage retorts, opening it up. “Oh, look. My phone. My lipstick. My lucky charm. Now are you going to tell me this is your purse?”
Lois stares in bewilderment at Sage’s stuff. Then she glances up, her eyes huge and anxious.
“I was given it,” she said. “I don’t understand.”
My legs trembling, I rise to my feet and call out, “It’s my fault! I promised it to both of you! I’m really sorry …”
But no one takes any notice, even though I’m waving my arms, trying to get their attention.
“Now, ladies, I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,” Billy Griffiss is saying. “It reminds me of the calendar thief. Did you hear about him? He got twelve months and they say his days are numbered.” He laughs loudly at his own joke, but if he’s hoping for anyone to join in, he’s out of luck. Everyone is watching Sage, riveted. Two guys in headsets have approached her, but she keeps batting them off.
“Excuse me?” I try waving my arms again. “Sage?”
“People should know the truth about you, Lois,” she spits. “You act so high and mighty, but you’re nothing but a criminal. You’re a thief! You’re a shoplifter!”
There’s a shocked murmuring from the audience at this. Someone shouts, “Boo!” and someone else, “Get her off!”
“Now, now.” Billy Griffiss sounds pretty shocked too. “I think that’s enough—”
“It’s true! She’s a shoplifter! From … Pump!, wasn’t it, Lois?”
Lois looks like she wants to throw up.
“There’s CCTV footage,” says Sage in satisfaction. “Take a look.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Lois in a trembling voice.
“Yes, I do. Becky saw her. Becky, you saw Lois shoplifting, didn’t you? Tell them! This is the witness!” She gestures theatrically at me.
I’m still on my feet, so I’m totally identifiable. In one instant, everyone in the room seems to have turned to look at me. Photographers are pointing their cameras this way. A few flashes are already going off, and I blink.
“You saw Lois shoplifting, didn’t you?” says Sage, her voice rising clearly through the room, her smile curving cruelly. “Tell them, Becky. Tell the truth.”
Blood is rushing in my ears like a freight train. I can’t think properly. The whole world is looking at me and I need to decide what to do and I’m too confused and the seconds are ticking by.…
I’ve lied plenty of times in my life. I’ve said my leg was broken when it wasn’t. I’ve said I had glandular fever when I didn’t. I’ve said my boots cost £100 when it was actually £250. But those were lies about me. I’ve never lied about someone else.
I can’t tell the world Lois is a shoplifter.
But I can’t tell the world she isn’t a shoplifter.
“I …” I glance desperately at Lois. “I … No comment.”
I sink down in my chair, feeling ill.
“That proves it!” Sage crows. “Look at the CCTV footage! Becky saw it all. She’s your witness. Get her on the stand!” She curtsies to the audience and sweeps off the stage.
Aran and Luke are just staring at each other, aghast.
“Becky.” Luke reaches over and squeezes my hand hard. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. No.” I swallow. “What was I supposed to do?”
“It was an impossible situation.” Luke’s mouth is tight with anger. “A situation you shouldn’t have been put in.”
“They’re coming.” Aran glances up at the photographers heading our way. He gives me a sympathetic look. “Watch out, girl. Your life just changed forever.”
“Becky!” A journalist is holding out a voice recorder at me. “Becky! Did you see Lois stealing?”
“Did you catch her in the act?” chimes in another.
“Becky, look this way, please!”
“This way, please, Becky!”
“Leave her alone!” commands Luke furiously, but the crowd of press is getting even bigger.
“Becky! To your right, please!”
I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be in the glare of the paparazzi. Now I know. It’s like being in a thunderstorm. It’s all white light and noise and whooshing in my ears. Voices are calling at me from all directions. I don’t know which way to look or what to do. All I’m aware of is my name, being shouted out, over and over.
“Becky!”
“Becky!”