“I was a bit of a mess Saturday night. It was not the best of days for me, and anyway, I was a bit drunk by the time I bumped into Cam. He realised this and he also knew that there were a few photographers about so we left the club.” I look at each of them, trying to gauge what they’re thinking. “Cam managed to get us out of a back exit and had his driver pick us up without being seen. I had a car picking me up at six Sunday morning to take me to the airport so I just wanted to go home. Like I say, I was a bit of a teary mess by the time we got back to my hotel and Cam didn’t want to leave me on my own so he came up to my room with me.”
“Hang on, hang on,” my dad interrupts. “I didn’t know that you even knew Cameron King that well. Why the fuck were you taking him up to your hotel room? I mean, he’s an all right sort of bloke these days, but I’m under no illusion that he’s still as fucking dangerous as he’s always been.”
“Frank, language, really.”
“Fuck the language, Bern. I wanna hear where this is going. Carry on, Georgia please.” God, how do my parents have the ability to make me feel like a bloody teenager again. I’m thirty-two years old. I’ll spend nights in hotels with whomever I choose. I just don’t want them to think badly of me for doing it on the anniversary of Sean’s death.
“Dad, look…”
“Dad, Georgia was seeing Cam for a while, back when she and Sean split up. I didn’t tell you coz I didn’t want it complicating things. We owned the club together back then and there was already a bit of friction.”
“You fucking what? You knew she was seeing him and you didn’t tell me?” Oh, for crying out loud.
“Dad, it was twelve years ago. For fuck’s sake, are you all gonna listen to what I’ve gotta tell ya or what? Sit down, shut up and let me speak. I’m not a bloody child. I’m a grown woman. If I wanna spend a night in a hotel room with Cameron King, then I fucking well will!” The room falls silent and everyone just stares wide-eyed at me. I’ve never spoken to my dad like that. I don’t know if anyone has, ever.
“Georgia, really—”
“Mum, I swear to God, if you tell me not to swear, I will walk out that door and never step foot in this house again.”
“Shut up, Bern. Let the girl talk.” I give up, my family are bloody impossible sometimes. To think that I’ve actually missed all of this. No wonder I’ve got issues.
“Think what you like of Cam, but he did nothing but look after me Saturday night. He stayed with me all night. He ordered me food, made me eat it. He made me drink water and he listened to me talk and he held me when I cried.” I can feel a lump forming in my throat as I speak. I’m missing him and I so wish that I didn’t. “The problem is that the press somehow have found out that he stayed in my room and have run a story about it in Australia and the UK papers will be running one tomorrow. I just wanted you to know, that was all.” I finish my glass of wine, just as the intercom goes for the gates at the front of the house.
“Get that will ya please, Bern?” my dad says to my mum and she huffs as she leaves the room. I can hear her speak to whoever is at the gates and she must wait at the front door to let them in.
“Well, that’s very nice of Cam. I’ll buy the boy a drink next time I see him to say thank you.”
“He’s not a boy, Dad. He’s older than me,” Bailey states.
“So that’s it, nothing else happened, George?” Marley asks.
“Nothing else like what?” I reply
“Did you arrange to see each other again or anything like that?” I don’t really know what to say and before I get a chance to, I hear a commotion at the front door. A few seconds later, Cam walks into my parents’ front room.
“I told you I would come and find you, Kitten. All you had to do was call me back. Why’d you always have to make things difficult?” I’m speechless. my mouth is hanging open. I reach for my wine glass, but realise it's empty. “Sorry about coming here like this, Frank.” He looks at my mum, “Bern.” He nods at Bails and Marley. “Boys, my apologies, but your sister is too stubborn to return my calls or messages and we need to talk.”
I shake my head at him. “You need to go. I’ve got nothing to say to you.” I look him up and down. He’s wearing a grey hoodie and a loose pair of jeans. He puts his hands in the pocket at the front of the hoodie.