My pale, unhappy face bounced up and down in the gym mirror, cheeks hollow, lips blue-white.
Stay slim. Stay in shape. Stay young and beautiful if you want to be loved.
It was a regular habit now, running on a machine in Michael’s gym room, exercising amid boxes of tiles and stacked-up plasterboard. My skinny arms and legs flailed around. I was not, and never had been, a natural runner. I hated the running machine and I hated exercising inside like a lab rat, but I was determined to keep my figure for my man.
I used to be a feminist. What happened?
Suddenly, my legs flew out from under me and I caught myself on the digital running display, hitting the emergency stop. This was happening more and more lately – head rush and near fainting during exercise.
I knew I was overdoing it, but the consequences of getting fat didn’t bear thinking about. Michael had told me over and over again how much he hated fat on a woman. His type was frail to the point of anorexic. Fat on women repulsed him, even though he himself was plump around the middle now the tour had finished.
As I struggled to get my breath back, I saw Michael, dark and looming in the wall-to-wall mirrors. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans and Ray-Ban sunglasses. His arms were crossed and his lips tight.
My whole body tensed. I recognized the signs. Something was up and I was to blame.
‘What?’ I asked, stepping down from the running machine.
Michael took off his sunglasses. He had that dark look again. Shoulders hunched over, eyes hard and cold.
‘I’ve been here the whole time,’ I said, voice going high and scared. ‘The whole time. I got up and came straight down to exercise. I didn’t even have breakfast—’
‘Your sister’s at the gate.’
‘Dee’s here?’
Michael nodded, jaw hard.
I shook my head. ‘She can’t be. She’s in New York.’
‘She must have got on a plane,’ said Michael. ‘I hear it’s quite the thing these days. Air travel.’
‘I didn’t tell her the address,’ I said, words rushed. ‘How could I? I wouldn’t even know how to get here myself. I swear to you, Michael. You won’t even let me call her.’
‘Well. She’s here.’
‘This is nothing to do with me. It’s not my fault, Michael. Please—’
‘The girl says she won’t leave until she sees you. If you want to associate with that press rat, be my guest. But pack your bags.’
‘Michael, she’s not a press rat. She wouldn’t have said a word about us. It was someone on your staff. It had to be—’
‘Don’t you DARE accuse my staff. Don’t you dare.’ Michael clicks his fingers at the door. ‘Go tell her she needs to leave. I want her off my property, Lorna. This is my home.’
‘Fine. Okay, I’ll tell her.’
Michael’s eyes softened then. ‘Listen – I’ve been through what you’ve been through. Remember? Family can be the worst of them. The very worst. You can’t choose your family. But you can cut them out now and move on with your life.’
There was a colourful splodge at the gates. As I got nearer, the splodge separated into a purple coat, bright red woolly hat and blue knee-high boots.
My sister.
Dee’s mouth dropped open when I got close. ‘Lorna. Jesus. Are you okay? You’re so thin.’
‘I’m fine. I’ve been exercising. Staying fit. Michael has his own gym here.’
‘Have you seen a doctor lately?’
‘I don’t need a doctor. I feel great. It’s just … I mean, it’s brilliant here. All my dreams coming true.’
‘Your accent sounds weird. You sound like Michael.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do. You sound just like him. A little clone. What’s happened to my sister?’
‘You have to go, Dee. Michael doesn’t want you here.’
Dee started to cry. ‘I’ve flown all this way to see you. You look so … thin. Your cheeks … God. Worse than when you had the cancer. What is he doing to you?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I just told you. Things are amazing. I’m living with a rock star. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.’
‘Oh, come on, Lorna,’ Dee said. ‘Who are you kidding? This place is a building site, not a house. And he’s married.’
‘I know he’s still married. He and his wife are separated, but they can’t divorce because of the press.’
‘They’re not separated,’ Dee said. ‘He was at an awards ceremony with Diane just last month. I saw it in the papers.’
‘Michael has to do that stuff,’ I said. ‘You know, keeping up the married-man image. He doesn’t want to. He and Diane don’t have sex anymore. He doesn’t love her. He loves me.’
‘He’s brainwashed you,’ Dee snapped. ‘He’s keeping you out here like a little bird in a cage, while he goes back and forth to his wife. Why can’t you see it?’
‘Life with a rock star is complicated. It’s not like a normal relationship. If I want to be with Michael, I have to accept that.’
Michael’s words, not mine. But I didn’t have many of my own words left by then.
Dee reached through the bars to take my hand. ‘Your hands are so cold. And your eyes – you’re not yourself.’
‘I am.’ I snatched my hand back. ‘Look, I told you. I’m happy. I have everything I could ever want. You’re just being a jealous bitch.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ said Dee. ‘This is the first time I’ve seen you in months. You never call. I had no idea where you were. I had to stalk you to find this place and now you won’t even let me in the house. It’s like you died or something. He’s controlling you.’
‘No, not at all,’ I said. ‘But this is Michael’s house, Dee. I don’t get to choose who comes and goes.’
‘And you think that’s normal?’
‘I understand where Michael’s coming from. After that press story, he doesn’t want you here. He’s very protective of his privacy.’
‘Wait – what press story?’
‘Michael thinks you sold a story on us.’
‘No, I didn’t! I didn’t sell any story. I’d never do that.’
‘Well, something came out about us in the press. About how we got together after the New York gig.’
‘If you’re in a real relationship with him, it shouldn’t matter that the press know, should it?’
‘It’s more complicated than that. We have to be discreet until the divorce comes through.’
‘No,’ says Dee. ‘You need to be discreet because you’re seeing a married man, and that married man doesn’t want his wife to know about you.’
‘No. That’s not why.’
‘Lorna, do you think it’s normal that we haven’t seen each other in over a year?’
‘I wrote.’
‘Wrote? When? I didn’t get any letters.’
I chewed at my thumb. I had written. But I’d given those letters to Michael …
‘And now you won’t let me into where you’re living?’ Dee continued. ‘This is craziness. I think you need some psychiatric help. He’s done something to you. Taken away your brain.’
‘No, he hasn’t. I’m exactly the same as always.’
‘You’re not. You’re different. This isn’t healthy.’ Dee glances at the house. ‘He’s not healthy. Lorna, a girl went missing after being seen with him. A German girl. Look at this.’ She pulled a folded newspaper clipping from a patchwork bag and began to read. ‘Karla Muller was last seen with Ray in the VIP area at Glastonbury. Muller appeared to be intoxicated as she danced with the singer.’
Dee turned the clipping to show me the photograph: a pretty, brown-haired teenager with a nose piercing and sharp cheekbones, hanging on to Michael with her eyes half closed. She wore a Michael Reyji Ray T-shirt over a skinny frame. The thing I hated most about the picture was Michael’s eyes. They watched the girl like a wolf watches a sheep.
‘Girls throw themselves at Michael all the time. He has to be nice.’
‘And listen to this,’ Dee continued. ‘A member of Michael Reyji Ray’s staff told police that Muller left the festival with Ray.’
I leaned closer to read the article, jabbing at the text. ‘This is all bullshit. Press bullshit. Michael is tired of it. People always trying to take him down in the newspapers. It’s not Michael’s fault that these girls are fantasists. Imagining they’re madly in love with him.’
‘Were you at this festival?’ Dee asks.
My shoulders stiffen. ‘I don’t go everywhere with Michael. I’m not his ball and chain. He had enough of that from his wife. He prefers me to stay here. Out of the limelight. We’re not into publicity, showing off. What we have is real. All this stuff.’ I slap the newspaper page. ‘It’s fake. Made up. Listen, I’m sure that girl will turn up. You don’t need to worry about my safety. Michael looks after me. He is so gentle and loving and kind, Dee. Honestly. He can be the sweetest guy.’
‘Can be?’ says Dee. ‘Or is?’
‘He takes care of me,’ I insist. ‘I mean, sure, he has his moments. No guy is perfect. Everyone is a little bit afraid of their partner sometimes. But when we’re in a good place, I swear to God it’s like a spiritual connection.’
‘Okay.’ Dee crossed her arms. ‘If this is all normal and you’re in a beautiful relationship, open up the gates and let me in.’
‘You know I can’t do that, Dee.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Michael doesn’t want you here.’
Dee gives an outraged laugh. ‘And what about you?’
‘Please don’t put me in this situation, Dee. Where I have to choose between you.’
‘He’s putting you in that situation, Lorna. Not me. This is crazy.’
‘I’m happy with Michael. I love him. We’re going to get married and start a family and live happily ever after.’
Dee’s face changed then. Her expression became soft and her voice low. ‘Okay, Lorna,’ she said. ‘There’s not going to be a baby. There will never be a baby. Michael is married and all you are is the other woman. Okay?’
‘You’re wrong. You don’t get it. You’re measuring our relationship by an everyday yardstick, but Michael isn’t an everyday guy. It’s different. We’re soul mates.’
‘There will be no miracle happy ending here, Lorna,’ said Dee, choking up. ‘But if you won’t come home with me now, I’ll be waiting.’
‘I should go.’ I glanced back at the house.
‘He’s controlling you, Lorna,’ said Dee. ‘I see it, but you don’t. I’ll be waiting every day. Okay? Every single day.’
She reached through the bars and took my hand.
‘Dee, it’s okay.’ I tried to smile, but tears came. ‘Really it is. I’m so happy. Crazy in love.’ I glanced back the house and saw Michael at the door, arms crossed. My voice rose three octaves. ‘Dee. Dee, I have to go. Please don’t worry. I love you.’