Page 96 of Under Your Spell

‘It’s pictures of us from last night,’ I say, the words flat and empty. ‘From when we were in the garden.’

The pictures are slightly blurry, but you can see enough. I’m straddling Theo on the bench, his hands are all over me. In one of the pictures my head is thrown back, my face a mask of pleasure, his lips on my neck; in another we’re kissing and his hand is pushing up my skirt, my bare leg wrapped around him. There are more, each one a clear shot of an intimate moment. In some of them they’ve strategically placed an emoji to censor part of the image – which actually has the effect of making them look even more explicit.

The one that really punches me in the chest isn’t even one of the salacious ones: it’s Theo cradling my face, looking at me with stars in his eyes because I’ve just told him I love him. That moment was ours, and I feel like someone has stolen it.

No wonder the press are here. My heart is beating fast, and my mind is swimming with memories of my previous encounters with these people. The flashing cameras, the cruel, jibing words, the intense vulnerability, having to see lies splashed about with absolutely no control over any of it. The fear, the panic, it’s all still there, waiting inside of me, like a long-dormant volcano ready to erupt.

But it’s not just that. It’s Lisa’s wedding day. And it’s about to be ruined. Because of me. I look over at Theo and I think the stricken expression on his face must mirror my own.

‘Fuck.’ Theo hisses a breath between his teeth, hauling himself out of bed and grabbing his phone. He stalks through to the dressing room and slams the door behind him. It muffles the sound but I can already hear him talking to David. ‘… Just make sure we get a load of extra security here, right now. I am not having paparazzi crashing my sister’s wedding, David. How did this happen?’

I stay where I am, sitting on the edge of the bed, and keep clicking. Whoever took the photos is quoted too. ‘He brought her to his sister’s wedding and it’s definitely serious. They’ve been all over each other the whole time.’

There is one major difference from the last time I found myself in the public eye: now the news cycle is twenty-four hours, and everyone in the world can join in.

WHO IS THIS UGLY BITCH? is the top comment underneath from someone called TheosGirl42.

Please, he’ll be bored of her in a week, says another. She’s not even pretty.

We all know Theo and Cyn belong together! #Thyn has over 2,000 likes and counting.

The comments from total strangers pile up and up and up, and I feel them like a physical weight, crushing me. I shouldn’t keep reading but I do, scrolling through page after page of abuse.

My phone starts going wild with notifications. They’ve found my social media now, and even though all my accounts are private someone has obviously given the press access and I start seeing pictures from my Instagram popping up too. It’s another tiny betrayal, another moment of wondering who it is I can’t trust. I have approximately seven thousand friend requests and it looks like everyone I’ve ever encountered is reaching out to check in with me, which would be nice if the interest wasn’t so rabid.

Already, it’s clear the photos are everywhere, and most of the accompanying articles refer to me as ‘Ripp’s daughter, Clementine Harris’. It looks like the old stories never truly died because I see myself being described over and over again as a ‘troubled party girl’ who had ‘disappeared from the public eye to seek help’. There’s even speculation Theo and I met in rehab. My stomach starts churning faster.

I spot a new photo, one where I’m wrapped up in a black coat, looking dishevelled and alarmed, my hand lifted up to shield me from the flash of a camera. It’s the photo of me leaving Theo’s hotel the day after the funeral, when the paparazzi had been camped outside. The breathless headline above reads, THEO ELIOTT AND CLEMENTINE HARRIS, A TIMELINE: EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP SO FAR.

There’s a knock on the door and I get up to open it. Lisa stands on the other side, her hair is swept up in a chignon and she’s wearing a white satin dressing gown with the word BRIDE emblazoned on the pocket. Her face is pale.

‘Oh my God, Clemmie.’ Her eyes fill, threatening to ruin her make-up. ‘I’m so sorry!’

‘You don’t have anything to be sorry about,’ I exclaim quickly, pulling her through the door. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s all my fault.’

‘I just can’t believe that someone at our wedding, someone I know, would do something like this, selling photographs of you…’

‘It could have been anyone, Lisa,’ I say numbly, wanting to reassure her. ‘Someone who works at the hotel, someone who works for one of the suppliers, anyone could have taken those pictures. Theo and I weren’t exactly in a locked room.’

‘Do you think so?’ Lisa looks miserable. ‘It’s making me feel sick, not knowing who to trust. I can’t believe this is happening, today of all days.’

Theo emerges from the dressing room, and he’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He strides towards his sister, pulls her into his arms. ‘Everything’s going to be taken care of,’ he says tightly. ‘I’ve got David coordinating with the hotel security now, and we’re bringing some extra guys in, just as a precaution.’

‘Extra security?’ Lisa looks stunned. ‘Why?’

Theo’s eyes slide to mine over the top of Lisa’s head. ‘Just to be on the safe side,’ he says, keeping his tone light. ‘We don’t want any photographers bothering your guests, not on the biggest day of your life. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be getting ready? Or are you planning on being fashionably late?’

‘I just wanted to come and check on you,’ Lisa says, taking a step back so she can scrutinize Theo’s face. ‘Make sure you were both okay.’

‘We’re fine,’ Theo says. ‘But I’m just going to nip downstairs and have a quick word with Cassandra before I get changed.’

‘He’s lucky he only has to put on a suit and that’s the job done,’ I say mechanically. Theo and I exchange another look and I can tell he’s relieved that, like him, my priority for now is making sure Lisa is okay.

Lisa gives a watery chuckle. ‘That’s true,’ she says. ‘I’ve been getting ready for three hours already.’

‘Right.’ Theo hooks his arm around her shoulders, steering her towards the door. ‘So let’s get you back in the make-up chair so that Rob doesn’t think you’ve gone all Runaway Bride on him.’

He’s still chattering away to her as the two of them leave the room. He casts a worried look at me over his shoulder, and I try to stretch my mouth into the shape of something that feels vaguely like a smile. If the frown on his face is any indication, I do not succeed.