Beyond the Lens Read online

  Beyond the Lens

  By Hannah Ellis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2016 Hannah Ellis

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by Aimee Coveney

  To Fiona

  with lots of love

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Epilogue

  Other books by Hannah Ellis

  A note from the author.

  Acknowledgements

  I am so grateful to all the people who have helped me with this book.

  To my parents for your amazing help and support. I love being able to bounce ideas off you and I value your input so much. It makes it all so much easier and more fun. Anthea Kirk, thanks so much for indulging me in all the book chat and for loving my characters as much as I do. Your help has been invaluable. To Fay Sallaba and Sarah Fraser. Thanks for always making time to help with the book and for being such enthusiastic supporters. Thanks to Dua Roberts and Ashley Bignall for listening to all my rants and keeping me sane.

  For this book, I was lucky enough to find an amazing editor. Thank you so much, Jane Hammett, it was such a positive experience working with you and I look forward to working with you on future projects.

  Thanks to Kathy Robinson for proof-reading.

  A big thank you to Aimee Coveney for a fantastic cover. It’s perfect.

  To my wonderful husband, Mario. I really couldn’t do this without you. Thank you so much for believing in me and for supporting me in every way. You make it possible for me to follow my dreams. You’re the best and I love you so much.

  To the fantastic people of CLCHQ, it’s so great to have you on hand to offer help and encouragement. What a wonderful group to be part of. Thank you.

  Finally, a great big thank you to my readers and especially to those who not only read all of my books, but also shout about them to friends, write reviews, post on social media etc. You know who you are. I’m so incredibly grateful to you.

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  I’d never stolen anything before in my life. I couldn’t even bring myself to take a mint from the bowl beside the till at the hairdresser, so I was quite proud of the stapler in my handbag. At first, I’d considered returning it. I’d actually retraced my steps, sure I couldn’t live with the knowledge that I was basically a common thief. I turned on my heel as I realised I also couldn’t cope with the humiliation of taking it back. I’d have to convert to Catholicism, though; it was clearly calling to me by way of the guilt eating away at my gut.

  “I stole a stapler and lost my job,” I confessed to my mum over the phone while I sat in the cosy coffee shop, watching the world go by through the window. “Not in that order.”

  “That’s brilliant news!”

  An inevitable reaction.

  “Mum, are you dancing?”

  “Just a little celebratory jig around the kitchen.”

  I could imagine her, too.

  “I got made redundant, so I should get some money from them.”

  “Even better!”

  “Most mothers would be concerned, you know?”

  “What’s to be concerned about? You have to leave your horrible, boring job that you hate. And they pay you to leave, and will presumably give you a reference. It’s brilliant news!”

  “Well, I got a stapler out of it, if nothing else.” I’d been stomping around the office, ignoring the sidelong glances from my co-workers, when I realised I didn’t have many personal items around my desk. The dramatic packing-up of my things was going to be wholly unsatisfying. I’d lifted the phone as it rang and slammed it down again, making everyone around me flinch. In a fit of rage, I’d grabbed the stapler and shoved it into my handbag, as though that would teach them to be careful who they let go in future. I came to my senses immediately and rummaged around in my handbag for it, but soon realised it had got lost in the abyss. It gave me time to realise I was being watched. In case no one had seen me steal it, I didn’t want to incriminate myself by unloading the item in front of them.

  “I’m really happy for you,” Mum said. “I only wish this had happened sooner.”

  “There is just the slight matter of paying my rent, putting food on the table, clothing myself. Those trivial things in life.” Mum would genuinely see those things as minor inconveniences. She was all about fun.

  “Don’t worry about those things. You’ll figure something out. In the meantime, have some fun – go a bit crazy for once! Throw caution to the wind.” She laughed, and her laugh was infectious. “Why don’t we go out tonight and celebrate?”

  “Because it’s not something to celebrate,” I told her. I often wished I had one of those mums who were happy to be your mum and didn’t need to be your best friend too. I hated it when she insisted on taking me out to some dodgy club and I had to watch her flirt with random men all night.

  “Oh, come on. Be a little spontaneous for once.”

  “I’ll start being spontaneous when you start being sensible,” I offered.

  “But I’d be boring like you then.” She laughed wickedly, making me smile. “Just promise me one thing.” She was suddenly serious. “Don’t start job hunting this evening; put it off for a week or so. Relax a bit and think about what you really want from life. I’ve always hated thinking of you sitting in that boring office. I want more for you.”

  “I’ll wait a week, I promise.” She had a point. I could afford to be a bit choosy – and adding ‘not mind-numbingly boring’ to my job criteria probably wouldn’t hurt.

  “Oh, and be a yes person for a while,” she said.

  “What on earth does that mean?”

  “Say yes to things. You always say no to everything. I bet you don’t even realise you’re doing it.”

  “Do me a favour, Mum! Cut down on the daytime TV, will you?”

  “There’s your sense of humour! Making a little appearance today, is it?”

  “I’m not joking,” I told her.

  “Just say yes!” She laughed again. “Call me tomorrow.”

  I smiled to myself. I guess it was nice she was positive about me losing my job.

  The middle-aged waitress walked past just as I placed my phone on the table in front of me.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she offered, picking up my empty coffee cup. I politely declined and asked for the bill.

 
I navigated the city centre, intent on getting the bus home. It was Friday afternoon and the streets were busy. I zigzagged down the pedestrian zone, unable to avoid a woman with a clipboard who wanted me to do a survey.

  “I’m in a hurry,” I told her, feeling guilty for some reason. “Sorry.”

  “Got any spare change?” a homeless man asked me.

  “No, sorry.” I winced. I really must have been Catholic in a previous life.

  Then I almost walked into a young woman, who thrust a piece of paper at me. “Get a free drink tonight with this flyer.”

  I pushed her hand away, suddenly irritated. “No, thanks.”

  I stumbled away, feeling like screaming as I thought about my life. My mum was rarely right, but I’d have to give her this one: I did say no to everything. I didn’t even think about it; I’d trained myself to automatically say no. Mum would’ve done the survey and had a good old chinwag with the lady while she was at it. The homeless man would’ve wished he hadn’t chosen her when she told him her life story as she handed him 20p. And she’d have bitten the girl’s hand off for a free drink.

  I wondered if I was missing anything; if my life would be enhanced by a few random social interactions. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to be a yes person for a while. I slowed my pace but made it almost to the bus stop without any opportunity to chat to strangers. Typical!

  “Excuse me!” The voice behind me was shrill, and I turned with a smile. The sight of a vaguely familiar blonde woman holding a microphone, backed up by three cameramen, caught me out. This clearly wasn’t a ‘yes’ moment!

  “Are you looking for some excitement in your life?” she asked theatrically.

  No, I wasn’t looking for excitement. To be honest, I’d never been a huge fan of excitement. So I was surprised to hear the word ‘yes’ come out of my mouth. I looked around, but it had definitely come from me.

  “How does an all-expenses-paid, week-long holiday sound to you?” Her voice was high-pitched, and it made me wince.

  “It sounds great!” I matched her tone, surprising myself again. Had I been possessed by my mother? Something was not right here. I should go back to being a ‘no’ person before I got myself in trouble.

  “Would you like to join us to take part in a reality TV show in sunny Spain?” Her eyes were wide. “The plane is waiting to whisk you away!”

  I grinned at her. Surely no one in their right mind would agree to this. Admittedly, a week in Spain might be quite nice, but a reality TV show? I’d never understood why anyone would put themselves through that.

  “Okay,” I found myself saying. The desire to punch myself in the face was sudden and overwhelming. What was happening? Who was I? How could I make this stop?

  The woman jumped up and down, squealing with excitement. It was a bit embarrassing, really. Perhaps my boring office job wasn’t so bad after all; at least there I didn’t have to make a complete idiot of myself on a daily basis.

  She moved to stand beside me and looked into the camera as she grabbed my hand to raise it above my head. “We’ve found our fourth contestant! Tell everyone your name …?” She looked enquiringly at me.

  “Lucy Mitchell,” I said.

  “Well, Lucy Mitchell, get ready! You’re going on a trip to remember!” She screeched into the camera and bounced around like a demented donkey.

  “Cut!” a voice called from behind the cameras.

  “Oh my God! Couldn’t you be a little bit excited?” Microphone lady’s energiser bunny performance was replaced by a cold hard stare. “It’s like you were trying to make my job difficult. Are we really taking this one?” she called in the direction of the nearest cameraman.

  A woman in a cream suit stepped out from behind him and raised her cigarette to her lips as she held out a hand to me. “I’m Jessica,” she told me. “Yes, we’re taking her.” She inhaled deeply then threw the cigarette on the ground to squash it underfoot. I hated people who did that. Why was it okay to litter with cigarettes? I was tempted to tell her she should dispose of it properly, but thought it wouldn’t go down well. It rarely did, come to think of it. “We can’t afford to be picky at this point in the day,” she told microphone woman.

  “This is Chelsea,” Jessica informed me. “You’ve probably seen her if you watch any TV shows crappy enough to indulge D-list celebs.”

  “Oh! You’re Chelsea Cartwright!” I had, in fact, seen her on some dodgy reality TV show about a health farm, and then subsequently on the front pages of a few not-so-reputable newspapers.

  “I’m not D-list!” she told Jessica. “I have loads of offers of work.”

  “So do all the D-listers. It’s quality, not quantity, that counts in this business. And you’re clearly not getting much quality if this is the best you can do.”

  “I’ve been assured this programme will make prime-time viewing,” she said. “And let’s not forget we’re working on the same show. You’re the one directing the D-list celebrities in their crappy shows.” She was loud and her voice piercing, but I felt she’d made a fair point.

  “Speaking of work, I think we’d better get on.” Jessica chose to rise above the insult – or maybe she just couldn’t think of a good comeback. “Lucy, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “You need to run home and pack a bag. Whatever you think you might need. There’s a driver waiting – he’ll take you home and then to the airport. I’ll meet you there with the others, and we can go through the paperwork then.”

  “So I’m going to Spain? Tonight?” This was madness. I scanned the collection of TV crew and cameramen, noting the RDT logo splashed over everything. Realnet Direct TV was a big company, so this all seemed legitimate.

  “You are indeed. We all are, and I’m sure we’ll have a great time!”

  I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic, but she definitely didn’t seem very convinced.

  “Adam will go with you. We’ll be filming everything.”

  One of the cameramen stepped forward and raised his camera to point it at me.

  “Hi Adam,” I said quietly, but got no response.

  “Head for the road down there and you’ll find the car waiting,” Jessica directed me. “See you later for a trip to remember!” There was definitely a mocking ring to her voice.

  Chapter 2

  Adam and his camera were close on my heels as I walked in the direction Jessica had indicated. I looked at him when we got to the road and he motioned to a parked car opposite.

  The cool metal of the car door brought me to my senses. That, and the fact that I knew better than to get into a car with a complete stranger. I snapped around, intent on telling Adam there was no way in the world I could actually go through with it.

  “You know, I’m not sure—” The words caught in my mouth. A black sports car was travelling at speed towards us. Adam was too focused on his camera to notice. “Adam!” I screamed, lunging at him to pull him out of harm’s way.

  When his body crashed into mine, the force surprised me. The camera grazed my head. I heard a car horn blare and could smell Adam’s aftershave. I took a deep breath.

  I was sandwiched between Adam and the waiting car, Adam’s face just inches from mine as he turned to watch the car race away.

  “Thanks,” he whispered, pulling away from me slightly. Our eyes met briefly before he dropped his gaze to my hand. It was still tucked into the waistband of his jeans – which had apparently been the easiest place for me to grab, to pull him from the jaws of death.

  It felt like an eternity before the message got from my brain to my hand, telling it to get the hell out of the cute guy’s trousers.

  “S-sorry,” I stuttered, my arm finally retreating. My hand jerked involuntarily to my head, which throbbed slightly. Adam brushed my hair off my face, inspecting the place where his camera had connected with my head. “It’s fine,” I told him, pushing his hand away and pulling my hair back around my face.

  Adam reached around me to open the door. With all th
oughts of making a quick exit gone from my mind, I slipped inside and scooted over for Adam to slide in after me.

  “You got a death wish, Adam?” the driver said. “This stretch of road is a nightmare; people drive like lunatics. I’m Bill.” He caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. “You’re off on a little holiday, are you?”

  “Er …” Was I seriously going to go through with this? “It seems like it. Maybe. I’m not sure.” I looked at Adam but the camera obstructed my view of him and I couldn’t make eye contact.

  “Well, what’s the worst that can happen?” Bill asked as he pulled away. I gave him my address and then sat quietly for the drive. What was the worst that could happen? The list was fairly endless actually, and I silently thanked Bill for putting the thoughts in my head.

  I turned to Adam when I opened the door to the two-bedroom apartment I shared with my friend, Melissa. I silently thanked the heavens we were a pair of neat freaks. There definitely wouldn’t be any underwear lying around or anything else I’d rather not have caught on camera.

  “So you’ll just follow me around the whole time?” I asked and held the door for him. He nodded.

  “Can’t you speak to me?” I asked and moved down the hallway and into the living room, where there was a bit more space.

  He peeked out from behind the camera and shook his head.

  “Not at all? Is it a rule? You’re never allowed to speak to me even though you’re following me around?”

  “It’s not a rule,” he told me, his voice taking me by surprise. “I’m just concentrating on the camera.”

  “Well, I don’t think you should give me the silent treatment after I just saved your life!”

  I looked around the camera at him and he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “Thank you for that,” he said quickly. “Maybe you should pack …”

  “Maybe,” I replied, taking a seat on the couch. “I’m still not sure I can actually just go through with this TV holiday thing, though. Melissa! We’ve got company.”

  She appeared in the kitchen doorway, a cup of tea in her hand. “What’s going on?”