The Lady and Tay Read online

  Annie nodded quietly; Tay wondered what she was thinking, was she thinking he sounded ungrateful? That at least he still had his parents? Or that at least they still cared, even if it was a bit claustrophobic to be around them? What was her story? “Hey, I’ve talked so much about me. Too much about me. I need to know something about you, Annie. Help me even the balance a bit. Will you tell me what’s happened to you? You’ve hinted at a few bits, but I want to know it all. Please?”

  She looked him up and down, sighing, then nodding. “I need wine though. Is that ok?”

  “Yes! It’s absolutely fine. Please don’t ever think you need to moderate yourself around me. I’m ok on my two drinks limit, and anyone around me, including you, can go right ahead and get roaring drunk if they so wish. In fact, you can do so safe in the knowledge that I will always look after you. I’ll go and get you a…bottle of red? I might have a glass too, if that’s ok, but that’ll be it for me. I’ll sort out getting some drinks delivered tomorrow to make up for what I’ve been drinking.”

  “No, no need to get more. I’ve got loads down in the storeroom downstairs. And yes, of course it’s fine for you to have some. Just take whatever you want when you’re here, no need to ask me. But I only really drink a lot when I’m here and feel safe. If I’m out, I’ll have maybe two JD and cokes, that’s it, nothing more, but if I’m here and I know I’ve got good people around me, I’m more relaxed.”

  He kissed her head, wondering why she needed to be surrounded by good people, and went downstairs, out into the lobby kitchen to grab a wine from the cupboard and two glasses.

  She’d discarded her jeans when he got back, lying half under the covers with pillows around her, like a nest. He followed suit with his jeans, and poured them a glass of wine before joining her. “OK, so the bio-pic of Lady Annabel Spencer? You can say whatever you want to or need to, and there’ll be no judgement here, sweetheart. You’re safe and I’ll keep whatever secrets you want me to.”

  She inhaled loudly. “There is no big secret really, and I actually think I need to talk, to get my story out there, because it’ll help with my work with the kids if they understand that although I sound ‘posh’ as people say, and have money, there are some common struggles we’ve had. But it’s so difficult when you come from privilege to say that things were tough, that you've never been loved, without sounding like a spoilt little rich girl.

  “I wanted for nothing growing up, in terms of material possessions and private education, music lessons, pony in the stables, dance lessons, but I was raised by a succession of nannies, some of whom were lovely, and some of whom were horrible. The best of them built up my confidence, and the worst of them took advantage of my quiet nature. My parents were very distant from me and I rarely spent any time with them.

  “They used agency nannies for covering the nights, so if I woke up from a nightmare or if I was ill, then I wouldn’t know who would come to me, and it was horrible having a stranger suddenly appear in your bedroom and trying to tell them what was wrong, so I suppose I quickly learned not to call for anyone, to just comfort myself, even at a young age.

  “But I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t hit, I didn’t live in fear of anyone, I didn’t want for food, or a warm bed, or for clothes, so it was ok. I just wasn’t loved and felt like an inconvenience on everyone around me.”

  “Annie, every child deserves to be loved, and being loved is what gives us our foundations, our security, our self-belief. If you missed out on that, then what you’ve achieved now with your life is amazing.”

  She shook her head, not looking at him.

  “Annie?”

  She looked up, tears in her eyes. Her voice cracked as she spoke quietly, “Sometimes, on my down days, I know I’ve only done all of this just to piss my parents off, and not because I care or want to help anyone. On my up days, I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but it doesn’t stop the thought existing in my head. I’m motivated more by a hatred of them and what they did when I was 14, than any true altruistic sentiment.”

  “No, no, sweetheart! Your hatred of them might have prompted your initial action maybe, I wouldn’t know, but I saw you today, looking after everyone, going above and beyond to care and love every one of your kids, giving them a positive example and environment to thrive in. That’s you. That’s not hatred in any way, shape or form.” He held her hand, “What happened at 14, sweetheart?”

  She shrugged. She reached for her iPad, opened a browser window and typed in her name, clicking on the images tab. She scrolled down a bit and touched an image to bring it up, turning the screen to landscape. She pushed it towards him.

  He could see a younger early-mid-teens Annie in a short dress, clutching her bag to her chest, on the steps of a nightclub, surrounded by about five slightly older boys, probably 18 or 19 years of age. The headline screamed ‘Wild-child Lady Di relative hits the London clubs!’.

  “Zoom in on my face,” she whispered hoarsely.

  He did and he realised that close-up, she had a look of panic on her face and was completely wasted.

  “When I turned 14, my mother said she’d arranged for me to have a night out. She came into my room with a glass of wine and told me to drink it. She was totally pissed herself, and I drank the wine like the good girl I was, and then she gave me that dress to wear and some high heels.

  “We went downstairs and she gave me more wine. A bunch of guys turned up, various sons of their friends, along with a limo, and my mum told me I was making my debut onto the London scene and going for a night out with these guys, who I hardly knew.

  “The room was spinning already, and I couldn’t get my words out, and I didn’t know what to say. I was bundled into the limo and then we were off. They were pouring me champagne, sticking their fingers into my mouth to rub something on my gums, and then we were suddenly at this private members’ club. I was so out of it. I was stumbling around, nearly being sick. There’s no way I looked 18 and no way I should have been let in, but I guess money talks.

  “We were in a private room, and they gave me a pill to swallow that they said would make me feel better, so I took it and they were right, I did. I felt all floaty and warm and happy. So fucking happy indeed that I didn’t even protest when that guy,” she said pointing at one of the lads in the photo, “kissed me, then asked if I wanted to have sex. I was so fucking happy that I didn’t know how to say no, so I said yes.

  “So he laid me on the table and took my virginity in front of them all, as they cheered him on, and I was so fucking not happy, but I never said a word. I was so out of it, and I didn’t say no, and I didn’t say stop. I don’t think I realised I could. I’d grown up being quiet, keeping things in, not causing a fuss, being compliant and obedient, so I just lay there.

  “Then they realised I was crying and it kind of stopped them. So he told me to get dressed and said next time would be better, but that I’d need to get more involved next time instead of just lying there.”

  Annie was sobbing by this point, and Tay went to move towards her, but she held her hand up to stop him. “Please, I just need to get these words out. I’ve never told anyone. So after it was done, I threw up everywhere and we got thrown out. As we came out, this photo was taken.

  “The limo took us home, and the boys were just ignoring me crying, telling me what a big favour that guy had done for me, getting rid of my virginity, and now that everyone knew I was such a ‘good girl’, I’d never be short of company.

  “We got home and they took me into our sitting room and my parents just laughed at the state I was in. My mother checked he’d used a condom and said she’d take me to the doctors to get me on the pill the next day, and my father said he’d give me the phone number of his drug dealer so that I could use the family account, and I just broke inside.

  “I was crying, and my mother told me to pull myself together, that it wasn’t that big a deal, as she lay nearly passed out on the sofa, throwing more wine down her neck, asking the boy who’d jus
t had underage sex with me to give her a hug. I ran to the bathroom in my bedroom and spent the night in tears and throwing up.

  “The next day, the photo seemed to be everywhere and most of my friends’ reactions seemed to be that I was lucky, that I must have had an amazing night. I had no-one to tell and no-one cared enough to ask how I felt. The next night, I just couldn’t take it any more and tried to cut my wrists.” Annie looked at the scar on her left wrist as Tay stroked the right-hand scar.

  “My parents were furious when they found me and told me to grow up and to not tell anyone why I’d done it as the ambulance was pulling up. So I just kept quiet and did my time in therapy.

  “It seemed like everyone wanted to be my best friend and I’d never been more popular from the myth of that night. A lesson on the power of a good PR spin. Girls wanted to be my friend so they’d get to come out with me, and boys wanted to take me out so they could fuck me.

  “So I became what they all wanted, because no-one seemed to want or like the me I’d been before I’d turned 14. I drank the wine my parents gave me, took the pills and drink anyone gave me, used my father’s dealer to get more drugs, and went out for the night with anyone who wanted to be seen with me. I slept with so many people, Taylor, that I can’t even put a number on it either. And it all seemed to just make everyone else happy. I didn’t say ‘no’ that first time, Tay, and then I couldn’t say no for so many years. And…and the worst thing of all, is that I started to crave it, started to crave being touched because I had so little other physical contact with anyone. I wanted it and I got it. Why on earth would you want that kind of person for your wife, for the mother of your children?”

  “Annie, you were just 14 when it started! You were plied with drink and drugs, so there’s no way you could knowingly give consent, and you were underage, with the assistance and approval of your parents. I am so angry for you. And given your upbringing, I can totally understand the need to be touched. Everyone has that, darling, but it should be met in a healthy way, through cuddles and kisses as a child, then in a consensual way as an adult. That didn’t happen to you at either stage.”

  Annie shrugged. “No-one cared. So I pretended I didn’t care, and I became that goodtime girl for the next five years. I have hundreds of low points I could pick out, but one particular one was being at a party, being surrounded by a group of guys and they were singing that Blurred Lines song at me, telling me ‘you know you want it’ and again that I was a ‘good girl’. And I sat and laughed as one of them pulled his cock out and took me in front of everyone again, and I pretended to like it, when in actual fact, I fucking hated myself for craving it and I fucking hated every single person who touched me. There was never any pleasure for me, I rarely came, it was just about being a vessel, a hole to be used. Even the fleeting comfort of being touched became hollow and I just became numb to it all.”

  “I hit 21 and woke up thinking I wanted to die, I’d had enough. I wanted to be as dead on the outside as I was inside. I went into my bath and sat there with the razor, ready to reopen the old wounds, and I just couldn’t do it. Something kicked in. Some sort of survival instinct. I barely had any relationship with my parents, but I went to see them and told them I was done with it all. No more drugs, no more drink, no more casual sex, no more going out. And instead of being proud and supportive, they were horrified and asked why.”

  “I walked out and never saw them alive again. They went to a party that night and got drunk and did loads of cocaine. They drove home and somehow wrapped themselves around a tree at high speed, killing both of them instantly. And I felt so happy, so relieved when it happened. I hate them. I absolutely hate them, and every action since then has been to take great delight in doing something that would piss them off as much as possible.

  “I sold the London mansion to a refugee charity, and they were so fucking insular that I love how much they would have hated ‘brown’ people sleeping in their bedrooms.

  “I went travelling round the world for two years because gap years really annoyed my mother, and I didn’t know what else to do. I spent six wonderful months with Sven, a Norwegian man, who really helped me take back control of my sexuality so I could enjoy sex. He helped me find my voice and confidence in all areas, but there was no emotion involved, so it was all quite technical and impersonal, but that was kind of what I needed. A form of therapy, I guess.

  “I took a voluntary charity placement and drove ambulances around Africa for a year, taking people from villages to hospital and back, and no-one had a clue who I was. It was liberating, but then I realised the flip side of that was that literally no-one on this entire world knew where I was or cared what I was doing. I could literally die, and no-one would ever miss me after they’d filled the driver’s vacancy. Life was moving on all around me, all around the world, and I’d been left behind. A tiny dot on a huge world. I was so lonely and had been for a very long time.

  “I came back to the UK, realised I couldn’t live in London anymore, so I moved to Coventry because once my father met someone from here who told him he was a twat. From that point on, he hated Coventry if ever it was mentioned, so I only came here to spite him. I found a property to develop into Watch House, spoke to the council and local charities about what could work, and it all just snowballed from there.

  “I give away their money to the people they absolutely looked down on, the disadvantaged and the forgotten, and I love the ‘fuck you’ feeling I get every time I think about how I live my life now.”

  She looked Tay directly in the eye, her voice hardening. “I’m not a good person, Tay. I meant what I said earlier, I’m not driven by love, I’m driven by hatred, by wanting to piss off dead people who have no way of knowing what I’m doing. But my actions now to piss them off are as pointless as my teenage actions to fit in were. No-one has ever loved or cared about me, I pretend all the time, I pretend I’m ok, I pretend I’m confident, I pretend I’m in control. That’s how I saw your mask, Tay, because it fucking mirrors my own. I’m damaged inside and you shouldn’t be around me.”

  She stormed off into the bathroom and Tay lay still, stunned. He could hardly believe what he’d heard. His beautiful girl carrying all this heartache inside her for all this time. But there was no way she was believing any of this bullshit for a moment longer. He followed her into the bathroom, her toilet door shut. He banged on it, “Annie, open up.”

  “Just fuck off, leave me alone,” she sobbed.

  “Absolutely not. You come out here and you rage at me as much as you need to, but understand this, I am not leaving your side for one moment this next week, so you really should unlock the door and come out here before I kick this fucking door down so I can make sure you are safe. Get out here now sweetheart, because I need to see you, I need to hear you and I need to touch you. I’m giving you five, four, three-”

  The door clicked and opened a fraction. He pushed his hand in and held the doorframe. “You shut the door again and you’ll smash my fingers. I know you won’t do that to me.”

  She sniffed. “You’re a guitarist, you can’t play with smashed fingers. If I break your fingers, you’ll have to cancel the tour and not leave me alone on Saturday. If I break your fingers, I win.”

  “Shit, I didn’t think of that, Nurse fucking Ratched. I don’t suppose you’ve watched the film to know who that is?”

  “No. But I have read the book, you fucking heathen.”

  “Come out, baby. Please?” he pleaded.

  “I’m not the person everyone thinks I am, Tay. They think I’ve got a heart of gold, but I haven’t. It’s black and it’s tarnished.”

  “No, sweetheart. It’s just been neglected and it needs me to polish it to let the gold shine through. You’re just a human, sweetheart. It’s ok to have good and bad thoughts, but it’s what you do with those thoughts that count. And you are positively changing the lives of so many people in so many ways, that it’s totally irrelevant why you are doing it, whether you’re doing it
because you’re pretending, because you’re pissed off, or because you’re the sweetest person in the world. It doesn’t matter. It’s the what you are doing that counts.

  “Your actions before Coventry do not have to define the ‘you’ you want to be, and I can tell you with complete certainty that you are absolutely loved, and you are absolutely cared about by every single person that I’ve met in your adult life so far.

  "And just for the record, it makes me want you more as my wife, as the mother of my children, because how you went from that to what you are now, shows incredible strength of character and resilience. And that's what should be shouted from the rooftops. That's what I want my children to know about their mother. That she turned things around. She made change happen. She made other people's lives better and she made her life better, despite what everyone else wanted from her.

  “And as for the mask-wearing, you’re talking to the King of the Mask, so join me as my Queen and we’ll fake it til we make it together, as long as we hang our masks up side by side when it’s just us and reveal our true selves.”

  Silence.

  “Annie?”

  “Are you always this fucking positive?”

  “Yes. Only for other people though. I’m a right Eeyore about myself but give me a pet project and I’m positivity personified in a perkily presented package.”

  “Piss off, Princess Perfect.”

  “Please come out.”

  “I’m scared what’s going to happen on Saturday. I’m scared I’m gonna get too close, and then I’ll crash and burn in flames when you have to leave.”

  “I know. I’m trying not to think about it as well, but I can feel my anxiety flaring already. I…I…I hate ask this because of the arrogance of it, but…is there any way you could come with me for a week or so, either when I leave or in a few weeks’ time? I’d stay here if I could, I really would.”