Page 68 of The Interview
“Only because she was drunk and I wanted to make sure she got home safely. No one knew her actual address. She wasn’t making any sense, so I just took her to mine,” Marley clarifies.
“And I repaid him by throwing up in his car.” Ash closes her eyes and shakes her head, the mortification I remember her feeling back then still apparent all these years later.
“When I got her back to mine, she was covered in spew, so I had to get her out of her dress.”
“Of course, you did,” George calls out.
“Oi! I was the consummate gentleman, possibly for the very first time in my life. I got her dress off, one of my T-shirts on her, then laid her down with her head on a towel in my bathroom. I had puke all over me, so I had to get out of my clothes, shower, get dressed, then throw everything in the washing machine while she laid there, passed out.”
Despite how traumatic Marley’s retelling is, he can’t wipe the smile off his face while he speaks. Ashley, meanwhile, still has one hand covering her eyes.
“Problem was, by the time I got back to my bathroom?—”
“Okay, I don’t think we need to go into any more detail about my vomit fest, do we?” Ash finally says, looking up.
“Can I just add,” Jimmie interjects, “that the saddest part about that night was the panicked four a.m. phone call Marley made to me and Len.”
All eyes are now on my sister-in-law. “He was alone at his place, with a girl he barely knew. All he was trying to do was look after her, but the trauma of everything the boys went through after the accusations made against them four years earlier were still very fresh in his mind. If it had been Maca in that situation, it probably would’ve been the same. But it was Marley who had the girl in his room, passed out drunk, covered in her own vomit. It was Marley who was freaked out and having a meltdown of Georgia proportions in case she woke up and wondered what was going on, and made accusations against him. It was Marley who made me stay on the phone while he stripped her off and got her and himself showered and washed her hair. I calmed him down and stayed talking to him while he towelled her dry, dressed her in clean clothes of his, then put her to bed, making sure she had a bottle of water and a bucket by her side.”
“I didn’t know this—didn’t know he called you,” Ash says.
“The only reason he did,” Jim continues, “and the only reason I know what happened that night is because of what thatpair of vultures did to him and Maca in Paris. This is what lies and false accusations do. This is how they can change a person or the trajectory of their life.”
Jim’s eyes meet mine. “We all know how it impacted Maca, how it changed his and your life, but, Marls… you know what he’s like, always the joker, never letting anyone in. Outside of us, most people only know him on a surface level, but back then, I don’t think any of us realised how much it had impacted him. Until I heard the panic in his voice four whole years after it had happened, neither did I.”
All of us on and around the sofa remain silent, our gazes switching from one to the other.
“I don’t think until that night I’d realised it, either,” Marley agrees.
“Did you ever get help? Counselling?” Daniel asks.
“Not for that,” Marley says with a headshake. “We all—me, Ash, and the kids—went for family bereavement counselling after we lost Maca and Beau, but I’ve never spoken to anyone about that. About Paris. I think perhaps after this, I will.”
“It’s definitely left him with issues,” Ashley states. “He was a nightmare when the kids got to an age where they started going to pubs and clubs because of it. Always on at Joe to never leave himself open to accusations, and to all three of them about not accepting drinks from anyone or leaving them unattended.”
“Mum’s the same,” Kiki calls out. “Dad, too, but Mum especially.”
“Drink spiking is prevalent all around the world. Running venues and events internationally, I’ve witnessed it first-hand, and although there are some measures we can take, at the end of the day, it’s up to the individual to keep themselves safe. So, I’m with Marley. Educate your kids on the dangers. Educate both your sons and daughters,” Cam states.
“Off the back of what we’ve heard about Paris, and with Mum and Dad’s help, we’re actually going to be launching an awareness campaign in the next few months. We were wondering if you’d be the face for it?” Harry says, directing his question towards my brother.
“Me?” Marley points at himself. “Don’t you want to use Paige or Joe, or Ziggy?”
“We were gonna ask all of you. The whole family can get involved if they want,” Tallulah explains. “It can affect people of all ages, all demographics.”
“Then, I’m in. Happy to do whatever I can to help,” Marley tells her.
“When was all of this decided?” Jim asks beside me.
“The kids came to us this morning with the idea,” I tell her.
“I think it’s a great idea. Let us know what you need. We’ll donate to the funding or for anything else.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “And thanks for having my brother’s back that night.”
“Always. I love you, and I’m so fucking proud of you for doing this, for putting yourself out there and being prepared to publicly discuss what I know are some of the worst moments of your life, all to raise money for the foundation.” My best friend squeezes my hand, and it’s a squeeze that also reaches my heart.
“It was time. With that other book being written—allof the books that’ve been written, in fact—and all of the misinformation and speculation out there, I’d just had enough and felt the time was right to set the truth free and raise some funds for the foundation at the same time,” I say before letting out a long exhale.
