Page 2 of Forever is Now

But the papers got her words. People like you, Adelaide, got her words, even though they were a murmur. She was barely audible.

Vultures like you—

Adelaide James: I really—

Summer Taylor-Braddon: No, donotinterrupt. I am telling my story and this is my story. My perspective.

Vultures like you got all our words, only you also made up your own, too, and pretended they’d fallen from my mouth, my mother’s mouth. One paper, not yours—though it may as well have been—had the headline of ‘TAYLOR-BRADDON AND MOTHER OVERHEARD PLOTTING MURDER.’

Our room had been bugged. The world was listening in on our conversation—all of it. Annmarie’s instructions, my mother’s private, comforting words meant only for me, and of course, the reunion when it happened some thirteen minutes later, when Ruari finally arrived here.

[In the background of the audio, car horns can be heard]

Summer Taylor-Braddon: What should’ve been the most blessed and private moment of my life, being reunited with my husband, was blasted over the media. Every word was analyzed, sentences torn apart and put back together, but badly, so the meaning was changed, because that’s your specialty.

Every paper had a different interpretation. ‘SUMMER TAYLOR-BRADDON JUST CAN’T LET HER FIRST LOVE GO—EVEN THOUGH HE DOESN’T KNOW WHO SHE IS’and‘THE WEEPING MINX VOWS TO MAKE RUARI BRADDON REMEMBER HER, WHATEVER IT TAKES.’

It wasn’t just those headlines that were bad, or indeed the words you’d chosen previously, when the whole nightmare started. Later on, once people like you found out about Mia, you wrote a part for her in the narrative too, painted her as the victim because I could only be the monster, right? ‘TAYLOR-BRADDON ADMITS SHE’S GOING TO KILL MIA WILSON.’

Everyone believed at least one of these lies.Everyone.

My inboxes and every platform were filled with a deluge of hate.

WE KNOW YOU PLANNED IT ALL!

WHAT KIND OF SICK PERSON ARE YOU?

HOME WRECKER.

There were people I’d gone to school with, even one of my really close friends, poisoned against me. Because of you, they all acted as if they knew exactly what went on in that hotel room, between me and Ruari. They’d listened to theillegal—and please note the stress on that word—audio of our conversation, and assumed they knew everything. That’s what really annoys me because so much of communication is body language. As a writer, you should know this too. It’s how we hold our bodies, it’s the expressions on our faces, and it’s gestures. But all you had, all the world now had, were the words.

[She laughs] I was actually worried that this project we’re doing was audio-only, at first. But at least I can control this narrative—and no, before you suggest it, I don’t mean that I’ll lie. I just mean I’m in control ofmywords getting out. You’ll have no chance to edit this, because we’re doing each session in one take.

Adelaide James: Are you permitting me to speak yet?

Summer Taylor-Braddon: Your time will come. Be patient. Right now, this is my space. And when I try and recall our conversation in that hotel, mine and Ruari’s, I can’t actually remember what we said. What we meant or might’ve meant. I have never wanted to listen to that damn recording, of course. But that whole time, it’s... everything leading up to the reunion is almost crystal clear, and so is everythingafterthat meeting too. But the meeting itself? Well, all I remember now are the papers’ headlines. So I guess you should be proud of yourself.

Adelaide James: I lost my job because of you.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: I lost my life. I think I win, on this. [She clears her throat] I hate you all, you know? Journalists, reporters, press, all the media. You are the predators who enjoy tearing pieces off the nearly dead. And me? I am the most talked about woman in the UK today. And that just seems ridiculous.

But me and Ruari, we’re the most talked about couple.

I never wanted fame—I think few novelists do—and though I plan my novels, I do not plot my life. Something on this scale could not have been planned. Ruari and I were victims.Bothof us.

He did not lie. I did not lie.

Although I have profited from interviews and sponsorships in recent years, we never did this to make money. All we wanted was each other, safe.

So, I’m starting at the beginning—and I do really suggest, Adelaide, that you sit back a bit. You look awfully tense and that can’t be good on your back. There—isn’t that better?

[Silence for five seconds]

Summer Taylor-Braddon: Ruari and I met in 2010. We were fourteen. He’d just transferred to Okehampton College. He’d been at Budehaven Community School, before that, and it was mid-May when he transferred. We were in year 10, so no exams that year for us, but it gave us only a couple months before the summer holidays. I’d like to say that we became friends right away, only we didn’t.

He was average looking, then. Neither skinny nor overweight. Neither tall nor short. Mousy brown hair. Blue eyes. He hadn’t yet grown into his face or lost the baby fat that he’d have until his early twenties when he really started to shine.

He was just a quiet, studious boy. I didn’t really take any notice of him, barely talked to him, apart from that project in biology. Growing seeds. Can’t remember the type now, but we had to water them. Measure them twice a day. Had several sets of them too. Some were over fed, some near drowned, some locked in the dark.

---