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Once Lance had chosen a seat next to Jenny, opposite the peas from a pod Ace and Edie, Joe began.
‘Okay, I’ll get right down to it. We need to make some plans, some big changes and I have something to tell you that’s going to cause another shitstorm in our lives, but just like we’ve coped with the past few weeks if we stick together we’ll get through it.’
‘Oh Lordy, what now?’ Jenny dipped her teabag up and down, the tag flapping on the string.
Joe, grimacing as she took a sip of green gunk, focused on his speech. ‘You already know that I need to go to London to see Gus’s solicitor and that’s because he left me something in his will.’
‘How sweet, that’s so nice, Joe.’ Jenny smiled, then carried on dunking.
‘Actually, what he left me isn’t nice or sweet. In fact, it’s rocked me, and it’s going to rock you and the music industry once I follow Gus’s wishes, which I will, to the letter.’ Joe’s eyes swept the table, and he was met with wary expressions and before he could be interrupted he continued. ‘Before he died Gus wrote what he says is his biography and in it is a confession and one that doesn’t show him or others in a good light.’
Lance had pulled himself upright, the sulky slouch replaced by a more attentive pose. ‘What the hell does it say? Please don’t tell us it’s about you.’
‘It’s not, not directly and what I think Gus… what I know Gus has done is make sure that those who are truly guilty are punished and also, he wants to say sorry. I’m going to read you the letter he left. It’s to the point and it killed me when I read it.’ He pulled the square of notepaper from the back pocket of his jeans and unfolded it, then began to read.
Joe, my old mucker, my mate, my partner in crime and all the rest of that soppy bollocks.
First, I’m sorry. For leaving the party early, and for not telling you the whole truth but the fact of it is this, I knew I didn’t have long until checkout, so I made the most of the time I had left and put a few things in order.
My family will be taken care of financially, but I would ask you to watch over them pastorally, as you know I would watch over yours if roles were reversed. You will understand why as you read further.
I have sent a video recording, made at La Babinais in the past few days, that backs up what is written in a file that is now lodged with my solicitor. I have done my utmost to ensure that my words cannot be disputed, and that the legitimacy of the document is irrefutable. I have instructed my solicitor to release a copy to you in its entirety before he places the original in the appropriate hands. Here is a shorter version. Please understand that anything I did, I did it because I wanted to protect NorthStar, and most of all, you.
The morning after Wendy Parker died on the tour bus, Denny rang me from his home in hysterics and begged me to come over. When I arrived he was behaving and looking like a madman, wild-eyed, crying, tearing at his clothes, pulling his hair, pacing then dissolving into a heap on the floor and when I finally managed to calm him, he confessed to what happened with Wendy.
She’d turned up outside the hotel with some other fans, and he’d beckoned her over and told her to meet him at the back, near where the tour coach was parked. There was nightwatchman, and Denny slipped him £100 to look the other way while they sneaked onto the coach. He said he couldn’t risk taking her inside the hotel so the bus would have to do.
In plain speak, at first she refused his advances, wouldn’t have sex so instead he persuaded her to perform oral. Not wanting to stop there, he slipped drugs into the bottle of vodka she’d taken on board. They worked quickly and she was soon under the influence, and he was able to lie her on the back seat but as he began to undress her she started to vomit. Repulsed, Denny, being who he is, zipped up his jeans and scarpered. The watchman was nowhere to be seen and Denny slipped away. Alone in the back of the bus, Wendy choked on her own vomit and died.
I was disgusted and in my heart I knew that I should make him confess or call the police myself; but then I realised what it would mean for NorthStar and you, us. We were on the brink of a world tour, Glastonbury was the following week. I was talking film rights, negotiating clothing sponsorships, you know the score. So, I made a decision, and it is one that I have regretted all my life.
It was easy enough to track down the watchman who let Denny into the parking lot and turned a blind eye to the fact he was with an inebriated girl who was clearly underage. And then I paid him for his silence. He was glad to take the money, had four kids and another on the way and was terrified of losing his job, even more scared what his wife and family, everyone would say, if they found out a young girl, the same age as his own daughter, had died for £100. Because that’s what cost Wendy her life, that and that disgusting piece of filth, Denny.
And you’d have thought he’d have learned his lesson, but he didn’t. You all know about Harlem. And I know he had something to do with Felipa’s death, because he was there that night and when I confronted him about it he just smirked and shrugged, and you know what he said? – ‘you might just have to get your wallet out again, Gussy, old boy.’ Then he tapped the side of his nose, laughed, and walked away.
The shame I felt then and have carried with me ever since has eaten away inside and I cannot go without putting it right, which is why I have named the nightwatchman who I know is still alive – I checked. Once the police question him I hope he will come clean and I am sure he will have made a mistake, spent some of the money I gave him in a way that can be traced. The dates, amounts, where we met, things he told me are all documented, and I pray that the police reopen Wendy’s case.
And while I was on a roll, to make further amends to all of those women whose story hasn’t been heard, who have suffered in silence, weren’t believed or are too frightened or ashamed to come forward, I have gone one step further.
In the hope it will corroborate their statements or give victims a voice or at least a starting point, I have given names and details about the lurid behaviour of members of our industry, from the bottom right to the top. Stars, their management, CEOs, club owners, agents, all of the lowlifes who thought it was okay, fed on a culture of abuse, cocksure that they’d get away with it.
I cannot erase the mistakes I made in the past, but maybe in some way I can help change the future.
This is my legacy, of shame I suppose, but I know the man you are and if I were to leave hope and honour in anyone’s hands, I trust yours the most.
I know that you will be shocked and disappointed, and this is in some ways worse than the shame I feel, to have let you down. For this I am deeply sorry.
Before I go, I want to say one more thing and that is thank you. For your friendship and brotherhood, for sharing your life and family with me, for giving me a place that felt like home and somewhere I could rest my head, even at the end. For the laughter and the tears, the glory days and not too many holy days, and for always having damn good wine in your cave and home-cooked food on your table.
La Babinais was my place of sanctuary, a beacon that shone bright in a world that was sometimes dark. If I could have my life all over again, I would choose to spend it there with you and your wonderful family and that is the truth.
Goodbye old mucker, be good, but not too good. Try to forgive me or at least understand. And if you do, I’ll be waiting on the other side to shake your hand and raise a glass.
Until we meet again.
Gus.
Joe let the news settle a while, kind of knowing how they all felt because when he’d read it the first time it was like a kick in the balls, and during the numerous times he’d read it since it was still hard to get his head around what Gus had done. Then during the six days since he’d passed, Joe was coming to terms with the revelation and also, an idea had formed in his head, and it was something he needed to discuss with his family. But first, he’d have to answer their questions and knowing them the way he did, there’d be plenty and as she pushed her mug away and flopped back in her chair, it looked like Jenny was going to be first.
