Lost In The Starlight Read online

  “Give an interview then. Beat them all to it.”

  “You know how I feel about interviews.”

  The tablet on the table burst to life, tringing with red notifications. Benedict appeared without being summoned. “May I?” he said, reaching for the gadget.

  Honey caught sight of her name and beat him to it. “Surely it doesn’t happen that quickly?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Diana addressed her daughter’s scornful look. “It’s what I like staff to call me. Except for José, he calls me…” She stopped. “Give him his tablet back, dearest.”

  Honey clicked on the notification and the SlebSecrets site flashed up. Which secret lesbian has landed her first Hollywood role? Is this the end for the pretty PA as the sparkling treasure moves to LA?

  Chapter Two

  Honey Diamond’s car passed through the manned security gate to enter the exclusive fifteen-plot community known as The Alderley. Each house sat in at least five acres of land, with the estate boasting a golf course, ten tennis courts, four squash courts, a state of the art gym, swimming pool and sauna, a bar and restaurant and its own spa, sold to residents as a unique location designed for high achievers looking for a secure and private home in tranquil surroundings. It had round-the-clock guards and CCTV atop all high perimeters, both obviously discreet, allowing the residents to feel safe yet free.

  Of her neighbours, Honey knew there was an oil tycoon, a hedge fund boss, two chief execs, three footballers and a handful of other celebrities. Most kept themselves to themselves due to huge work schedules, constant travel and the desire to just hide away and relax during any spare moments. Residents might host the odd party or fundraiser here and there and pleasantries were exchanged, but no firm friendships were formed, and for Honey sometimes the sheer size of the open spaces made her feel quite alone.

  She had looked into buying one of the penthouse suites in the Shard, but the idea of tourists taking pictures every time she came home didn’t appeal. At least living at The Alderley her driver, Tammara, could drop her at her door without risk of exposure to prying lenses.

  It wasn’t being papped that Honey disliked, but the crowd that would quickly appear, making it very difficult to give each and every supporter the time they deserved. She hated saying no to signing autographs or posing for pictures, or just taking her time to talk, but life wasn’t like that and schedules had to be kept. Or so said Liza, always rushing them from venue to venue, micro-managing their each and every move.

  As the car made its slow approach, Honey looked up at her huge house, glowing under the gentle, yet all-revealing, security lights. It wasn’t Liza’s fault, she was just doing her job – a job that she’d executed to perfection for the past ten years, always knowing which events to attend, being right about which products to endorse. Honey sighed. Liza worked hard and her perpetually strung-out persona was understandable. Who wouldn’t be stressed managing someone like her?

  The question came from the front of the car. “Are you okay, Honey?”

  “Tammara, sorry, I didn’t realise we’d stopped.”

  “You look deep in thought. Everything alright?”

  Honey smiled at the concern. She liked Tammara, always willing to chat no matter the prohibitive protocol Liza tried to enforce among staff. “It must be the day off. I’m not used to free time.”

  “Anything nice planned for tonight? I’m not booked in again until the morning. Liza’s warned me it’ll be a long shift.”

  “Isn’t it always?” said Honey, watching her driver in the mirror, noticing the long hair was loose from its usual bun. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked.

  Tammara turned in her seat. “Really?”

  Honey continued. “We could chat outside of the car for once. It would be novel.”

  The pitch dropped from excited to peeved. “I’d have loved to. Really I would. And it would be worth Liza’s wrath, but it’s my dad’s sixtieth and we’re having a party and I should have been there an hour ago.”

  “Goodness! That’s why your hair’s down. Why didn’t you say anything? Why on earth are you driving me?” Honey unbuckled her seatbelt and made for the door.

  Tammara shrugged. “Have you ever said no to Liza? Plus I wanted to make sure you got to The Muse safely. I’m not sure who scares me more, your mother or your PA.”

  Honey paused with her hand on the door. “There’s always a cab.”

  “That’s what they told me you’d say. But you’re far too famous for cabs, and the other drivers are nowhere near as good as me.”

  “Betty’s not bad.”

  “Don’t start choosing Betty Big Boobs over me.”

  “She’s got a nice personality.”

  “That’s what it is.”

  Honey laughed before pausing as she registered her driver’s previous comment. “Why’s Mother involved in my movements?”

  Tammara shrugged again. “Your mother’s involved in everything.”

  “That woman. I’m sure she thinks she’s The Godfather.” Removing her hand from the door, Honey lifted her eyes, hoping for one of Tammara’s occasional anecdotes offering her a glimpse into a world she’d never known. “How’s real life? Normality? Where’s the party? Many guests?”

  The driver shifted in her seat, discreetly tilting the watch on her wrist. “Well—”

  “Stop. I saw that. I’m keeping you.” Honey’s fingers pressed the door release. “Look at me, trying to fill my free evening. I’ve no clue what to do with myself. You’ve got a life to get to.” She nodded. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, or send Betty if you’re too worse for wear.”

  “Never. Now let me jump out and help you.”

  “On your day off? No chance.” Honey stepped out of the car. “Have fun.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

  “All part of the job, Miss Diamond.”

  Honey shut the door and waved the vehicle away, knowing the instruction was to wait until she had entered the building. “Go!” she said with more vigour. “I’m fine!” She stood still and watched, wondering just how much of their friendship was indeed part of the job, willing the car and its driver away to the real world with real lives and real people who were desperately awaiting their arrival. She turned to the house and wondered what it would be like to have one person, just one person, standing in her doorway desperately awaiting her arrival.

  ****

  “How sure are you?” Jo eyed her flatmate with suspicion.

  “I was there! The dotty old Diamond woman announced it. I grabbed my phone and uploaded. Yes, maybe I should have thought about it for more than one millisecond, but it was a scoop.”

  “Come on, Meg. This isn’t like you.” The head moved from side to side in thought. “The old you, maybe, but I thought you were past posting the small fry.”

  “She’s got the lead in a Hollywood musical!”

  “You know what I mean. It’s just gossip. You said your site was about righting the wrongs in the world.” Pulling out a chair, the buxom blonde sat at the small kitchen table, nodding towards the open laptop and flashing pink website. “And that bit about the PA?”

  Meg shrugged. “What?”

  “You’re obsessed.”

  “She’s a lesbian.”

  “You think everyone’s a lesbian.”

  “The PA is, and they’re close. Honey’s only ever pictured with beards. If she were sleeping around with lots of different women someone would have sold their story by now, but they haven’t, so she must be getting it somewhere.” Meg nodded. “Her PA’s the most logical explanation.”

  The scoff was loud. “She must be getting it somewhere? Like you, you mean?” Jo lifted her finger and tapped the side of her flatmate’s black-rimmed glasses. “Maybe if you got more sex you wouldn’t be so obsessed with what everyone else is getting up to in bed.”

  “I�
�ve not met the right person and I’m not obsessed.”

  “Start dating then!”

  “I’ve tried.” The brunette shrugged. “People don’t get me.”

  “I don’t get you. You say your site’s about untold truths, news that needs to be known, but this is just gossipy speculation.”

  “Oh Jo, stop acting so saint-like. You’re far worse than me.”

  “Only when I’ve had a few.”

  Meg paused. “Three days now?”

  “Three days.” The smile was one of relief and appreciation. “I owe you, Meg. Once again I owe you. But just to confirm, I’m not giving it up, I’m just taking it steady. Social drinking yes, solo drinking no.”

  “Sounds like a start. I just want you happy.”

  “And I want the same for you too.” The blonde smiled. “You’re twenty-eight. This is your time. It your time for sex, or dating, or affairs – just anything other than sitting in front of your screen and speculating about strangers.”

  “Honey’s twenty-eight.”

  “And I bet she’s not shy of bagging some booty.”

  The eyebrows rose above the frame of the glasses. “See.”

  Jo paused. “Oh, you clever geek. Why do you always do this? Using your words to lure me into your traps? Maybe she’s not then. Maybe she’s just busy.”

  “Like me.”

  “You’re a top journalist, Meg, and founding SlebSecrets sleuth, but you’re not creating worldwide hit album after hit album, or judging the nation’s most popular talent show.”

  “And I don’t have one of the richest mothers in the land covering up my indiscretions either.” Meg turned in her chair until she was knee to knee with her flatmate. She reached out and held on to the slender thighs, smiling up at the blonde hair and blue eyes. “You’re a beautiful straight girl, Jo. You don’t know what it’s like to be a geeky gay girl desperately clinging on to the idea that lesbian role models might one day be the norm.”

  “You’ve got Ellen, and you’re not that geeky. You’re like Alex Vause and everyone fancies her.”

  “Orange is the New Black? I am not,” she smiled, “but I do like you like this. You’re giving compliments. You’ve said I’m not that geeky, and you’ve compared me to Alex Vause. I can’t remember the last time you said anything so nice.”

  “You’re right. I’m a better person without the slosh, but you’re also a better person when you dump that weight-of-the-world expression and let me do your hair and make-up.”

  “Never.”

  “Lead beautician on the set of Reality Rules! Who wouldn’t jump at the offer?”

  “Anyone who wants to look normal.”

  “That’s what’s wrong. You’re too happy being normal and plain.” Jo lifted her hands to the chaotic mess in their tiny London flat. “This is lived in. This is life. Compare this with your stark and lonely bedroom. Well?”

  Meg pushed a finger onto her flatmate’s lips. “Shush, you were doing so well and Pia’s coming later so we need to tidy.”

  “Oh god, don’t!” Jo flicked the finger back towards the laptop. “I’d rather you carry on with your tittle-tattle than have us clean for the cleaner.”

  “I haven’t posted tittle-tattle in months. My new job’s changed me. I’m like Perez. I’ve turned over a new leaf. Each entry has to have purpose. I only post indiscretions that need to be outed. Hiding your sexuality’s not okay. Having an affair’s not okay. Taking drugs whilst being a spokesman for an anti-drugs charity is just not okay. The world needs to know the truth about these people.”

  Jo moved from her chair, begrudgingly picking up some empty bottles and discarded pizza boxes. “I can’t believe that one’s not public.”

  “The papers won’t touch some people. Like Honey. That’s how SlebSecrets started. That’s why I’m needed. You know this.”

  Dumping the rubbish on the kitchen counter, Jo turned to her friend. “So you haven’t changed? You’re still going to be pimping me out? Even with this new hoity-toity job of yours?”

  “You love it, sober or sloshed. But now you can be my plus one to the really posh dos. No more flirting with crap reality hunks to see if they stray. This time you’ll be breaking the big news.”

  “Meg, that’s your day job.”

  “Yes, but it’s the stuff I can’t print that drives me the most. The papers are so scared of libel, and then there are the PR companies paying us off. HotBuzz were quite daring, they’d let me loose as much as they could, but look what I had to put on my site. They just wouldn’t risk it.” She sighed. “It’s so frustrating, knowing the truth, the lies and the spin, but no one having the guts to call it.”

  “So stop with the Honey trash now you’re a,” Jo put on her poshest voice and flicked her hand with affectation, “proper journalist.”

  “I’ve always been a,” Meg tried to mimic the voice, “proper journalist.” She shrugged. “My new rag’s just a bit more up-market.”

  “And then some,” said Jo, using the pizza boxes to try and shove the mound of rubbish further into the overflowing bin. “God, this is gross.”

  “And it’s not trash.” Meg moved her glasses further up her nose and refocused on her laptop. “SlebSecrets prides itself on unspoken truths.”

  “Unless it’s Honey Diamond. With her, personal speculation’s just fine.” The box and pile of rubbish pinged back up, littering the floor even more. “We need a new cleaner.”

  “No, I like Pia. She speak-a no on-glay.”

  “She do-a no cleaning either.”

  Meg laughed. “And I feel a connection with Honey. We’re both twenty-eight. We’re both lesbian.” She paused, tapping the SlebSecrets’ interface on her laptop. “Pia’s perfect. I can’t risk anyone catching sight of my site. She’s Filipina. She wouldn’t know what it was even if I left it exposed.”

  “One day, Meg. You’ll be busted one day.”

  “Not by our cleaner I won’t.” She turned to her friend with all seriousness. “It’s just you, Jo. Just you.”

  “I know.”

  Meg broke the meaningful silence. “So… I’ve got two all-access press passes for tonight’s London Town Football Club charity do. I’ll be on official duty, but how about you resume your role as super sleuth?”

  “Ha! I knew it wouldn’t last long.”

  “No, it’s an indiscretion that needs to be outed.” Meg peered over her black rims for full effect. “Louis Laurent.”

  “Okay.”

  “New patron of Family First. A rebrand of that coalition for marriage charity.”

  “Boring.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not the news.” She let the pause re-build the moment. “Affair.”

  “What?”

  “With new nanny.”

  “No!” Jo’s eyes were wide with shock.

  “Yes.”

  “No! Jackie’s heavily pregnant with their fourth!”

  “Exactly. I was interviewing him last week for a piece on his humanitarian work and I noticed—”

  “Hang on. You interviewed Louis Laurent, the hottest footballer in the country, and you failed to tell me?!”

  “You’ve been busy with Reality Rules and I’ve been busy working on real stories. It’s hard getting back into the swing of writing more than two-hundred-word titbits. It slipped my mind.”

  “It wouldn’t slip your mind if it was Honey bloody Diamond would it. You’d be harping on non-stop, but Louis Laurent—”

  “She’s a lesbian. I’m a lesbian. We’re connected. She matters.”

  “No she bloody doesn’t! She needs to be archived. I’m a straight girl! I’m your bestie! He’s Louis Laurent! Louis fucking Laurent.”

  Meg smiled. “So come super sleuthing tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Honey walked the fifteen paces from the curved driveway towards the front door, the sight of Sofia snapping her out of her self-induced melancholy. Sofia was standing there smiling, eagerly awaiting her return. How spoilt
of me, thought Honey, dismissing her previous thoughts. She had everything. More than any woman could ever dream of. People would always eagerly await her arrival. Fans would camp for hours, days even, screaming and cheering when their moment finally arrived. Their moment to meet her, Honey Diamond, and here was her godmother Sofia, her nanny as a child, her housekeeper now, her friend and live-in confidante, waiting once more with a smile in her eyes.

  “Sofia, there’s no need to greet me. Go back inside, you’ll catch cold.”

  “I’m not greeting you, dear.” The old woman giggled. “I’m off to the hub. Peter’s waiting for me at the spa.”

  “Oh.” Honey stepped aside as her godmother bustled past. “Peter the gardener? What happened to Tony the handyman?”

  “Caught him playing tennis with that young nanny from the Laurents’ place. Your salad’s in the fridge. Don’t wait up.”

  “Sofia, your coat. Please, let me grab it.”

  “And hide this hot little body? No chance.”

  “Winter’s coming.”

  “Can’t hear you, dear! Going to have fun!”

  Honey watched as the seventy-something darted down the driveway without a care in the world. “Bye then,” she whispered, turning back to the house and the silence awaiting her. Stop it, she told herself, looking across the open hallway towards the imposing staircase. This could be nice. This could be just what she needed. She was rarely home alone with time to spare. Usually it was the early hours when she’d finally get back, tired from filming an episode of Britain Sings, or from being stuck in a recording studio for eighteen hours at a stretch, never satisfied unless perfection was achieved. She’d mostly come in, pull herself up the stairs and fall into whichever bed she found first, before waking up to one of Liza’s early morning phone calls reminding her of hair, make-up and wardrobe’s imminent arrival. She used to try and refuse the fussing, but had long since accepted that Liza knew best and the schedule would only be kept if she did as instructed.

  Not tonight though. Tonight she was free. In her own home. Not some anonymous hotel room with minimalist design and the same fruit wherever she was in the world. Her own home. Where she belonged. But Honey stared at the minimalist rooms surrounding her as she walked through. They were as lacking in personality as all the other places she stayed. She rubbed her eyes and kicked off her shoes, making a mental note to find the time to get personal, decorate the house in a fashion that would show guests who she truly was and what she truly liked. She stopped herself. She didn’t really have guests and if she was honest she didn’t know who she really was or what she really liked. Of course she could recognise nice wallpaper and elegant ornaments, but she had no passions or preferences. Was she drawn to any eras, like art deco? Or any styles, like chintz? The press, according to Liza, hailed her as a style icon, setting trends, leading the pack, but in all honesty it often felt as though people knew her far better than she ever really knew herself.