The marriage act, p.33
THE MARRIAGE ACT, page 33
91
Roxi
Roxi checked the monitor behind the window and spotted two familiar faces. Breakfast news presenters Esther Green and Stuart James had interviewed her several times when she was Influencing and she felt comfortable around them. And, because they were unlikely to grill her to the degree other hardened hacks might, she had agreed to appear on their programme. They wouldn’t be letting her off the hook, but she wasn’t concerned.
Because throughout the week, media training experts had been rehearsing with her all potential lines of questioning and the most advantageous ways to respond to them. She was as prepared as she could be.
‘What do you think, hun?’ asked her friend, Tracy. ‘This look all right?’
In the Perspex mirror, Roxi checked the reflection of her hair from all angles. She loved her honey-blonde extensions.
‘It looks perfect,’ Roxi replied, ‘thank you.’ She ran her tongue over her newly re-plumped lips then opened and closed her eyes and tried but failed to frown. Her facial muscles were satisfactorily paralysed. The natural Jem Jones-look no longer interested her, not now she had access to Harley Street cosmetologists. If this was going to be her Second Coming, her physical reinvention might as well be as much of a talking point as what she was about to reveal.
‘Good luck,’ said Tracy and blew her an air kiss. ‘We’ll all be watching.’
Roxi was alone for the first time in weeks. It was normally a situation she actively sought to avoid, because silence gave the voices in her head space to breathe and to remind her of those she had trampled over to get to where she was today. However, for the time being, they were mute.
A few minutes passed before she heard her name spoken in her earpiece.
‘Roxi Sager, you are no stranger to controversy, but surely this offer must have taken even you by surprise?’ began Esther. ‘On the day protesters are preparing to march against the Sanctity of Marriage Act, the Government has just made you the brand new face of it.’
‘It did take me by surprise as I’m sure it will a lot of people,’ Roxi replied, staring into the camera above the monitor. ‘But who better to argue the case for it than someone who will do anything to protect their marriage?’
‘Even kill?’
‘Even kill,’ Roxi repeated, a firmness to her tone.
Cheers echoed along the corridor and into the recreation room of the women’s prison Roxi now called home. And a fire she once thought extinguished suddenly lit up inside her.
*
The offer to become the spokesperson for anything, let alone a national Government campaign, came out of the blue. It began with a guard leading Roxi to the prison visitors’ room. Waiting for her in the empty space was a thin, pale-faced man with eyes as dark as his hair. He was sitting upright, drumming his fingers on the table, but not out of impatience. He stretched out his hand to shake hers. She responded cautiously. His bony fingers were ice-cold. She racked her brains for how their paths might have crossed but she was stumped.
‘I’ve watched you so often in the media that it feels as if we’re already friends,’ he began.
‘And you are?’
He ignored her question and rested each fingertip on his chin. ‘I have a proposition for you, Roxi.’
‘If you’re a journalist, I’m sorry but I’m not doing any interviews . . .’
The man looked around the room. ‘If I were here to interview you, do you think the Governor would’ve cleared the room for me?’
Roxi shook her head.
‘I represent His Majesty’s Government. We have followed your story with interest. You’re unique, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not the only woman to have made a mistake.’
‘ “A mistake”?’ he repeated. ‘Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? You killed someone.’
‘You’re wasting your time if you’re here to make me feel any more guilty than I do already. I’ve tortured myself enough without your help.’ She pushed her chair out and prepared to leave.
‘Sit down, Roxi,’ he said. The narrowing of his eyes suggested it would be in her best interests to comply.
‘In describing you as unique, I was referring to how people on both sides of the Marriage Act are using you for their own agendas. The pros believe you’re an example of someone who’ll do anything to protect the basic principles of the Act, while their counterparts believe you’re the victim of an oppressive regime.’
Roxi couldn’t deny the level of support had taken her by surprise, particularly after admitting to the charge of manslaughter. She’d no choice. Technology had her bang to rights.
Before Roxi had listened to Owen’s recordings on Cooper’s laptop, she had turned off the wifi first, making it untraceable. What she hadn’t considered was that Cooper’s devices had been registered to analyse her online biometric behaviours. They knew all her operational habits, from the speed she used a trackpad, to how quickly she moved her mouse and navigation patterns. Hundreds of hours of insights had created a unique profile, like a digital version of a fingerprint and near impossible to duplicate. And, like millions of others, Roxi had a profile of her own online biometric behaviour. Each time she’d accessed Cooper’s laptop to play Owen’s sessions, the computer had registered it was not Cooper using it and identified Roxi from her own stored records. But, by briefly connecting to a cafe’s wifi, the device had reported the unregistered user and Roxi’s match to a cyber security team.
And when Cooper’s family had told police her laptop was missing, they hadn’t had far to look. The search team had found the device wrapped in refuse sacks and hidden in a box inside Roxi’s wardrobe. ‘I didn’t mean to kill her,’ Roxi had blurted out to the surprise of officers who appeared at her door. ‘It was an accident.’ She’d been arrested in her kitchen and charged the following day.
‘It’s like she wanted to get caught,’ she’d overheard one of the officers say later. ‘She couldn’t wait to get out of that house.’
As the news cycle was beginning to move on from Jeffrey Beech’s guilty verdict, the media was obsessed with former Influencer Roxi’s story. She’d become rejuvenated by the attention and public debate. The joy she had once gained from Vlogging and Influencing was returning.
Roxi had pleaded guilty to Cooper’s manslaughter and, in mitigation, her barrister had explained to the court how concern over her husband’s infidelity had pushed her to breaking point. ‘Mrs Sager lives for her family and fear of its disintegration pushed her into confronting the “other woman”,’ her legal counsel had said. ‘And when Mrs Cooper had refused to explain the nature of their relationship, a brief physical altercation ensued, in which Mrs Cooper lost her footing and fell.’
Roxi’s team had warned her to expect a prison sentence of around four to six years, so it came as a surprise to everyone when she was sentenced to just twenty months in a minimum-security facility. It had divided public opinion and only added to the demand for her.
‘We want to strike while the iron is hot and capitalize on your currency,’ Roxi’s prison visitor continued. ‘Following the awful, awful death of Jem Jones, there is now a place for someone else to be the spokesperson for the Sanctity of Marriage Act. And, with a general election predicted within the next few months, we would like to offer you that position.’
‘Me?’ Roxi laughed and glanced around the empty room. ‘How on earth can I be the spokesperson for anything when I’m in here?’
‘You gave up a successful career as a Vlogger soon after Mrs Cooper’s death. Why?’
‘Because I thought I needed my family more,’ she said.
‘The word “thought” suggests you no longer believe that to be the case.’
Roxi hesitated and was pricked by an image of the last time she saw Owen, Darcy and Josh together. She had spotted them in the public gallery following her sentence and moments before she was led out of the court’s dock. But her maternal urge to want to comfort them was less than her desire to show gratitude to the vocal strangers cheering her name from the gallery. She waved to them and made a heart symbol with her fingers. Once again, the interest of people she didn’t know became more important to her than her own flesh and blood. By the time her attention returned to her family, they had left.
‘You miss the attention, don’t you?’ the man continued. ‘The approval of strangers fills a hole inside you that, with the best will in the world, your family cannot.’
Roxi slowly nodded her head. It was the first time she had admitted it to anyone but herself. A cold, arrogant smile crept across her visitor’s face. In their brief time together, he made her uncomfortable yet he knew her better than her own family did.
‘What if I told you that you can have it all back?’ he continued. ‘That I can ensure you’re more famous than your court case has made you? That people worldwide will want to hear what you have to say? Because I can make you the first Influencer who Vlogs from behind bars. I can give you a platform to talk about anything you want to discuss, to connect and interact with the public through live chats and to show what prison is like from the other side of the bars.’
‘And what do you want in return?’ she asked.
‘That you also throw your weight behind the Sanctity of Marriage Act, talk about how important it is, and how, if the opposition is elected, it will be revoked and that will cause catastrophic damage to the country. You are just about old enough to remember Brexit. That will be a walk in the park compared to what will happen if we’re forced to return to the dark ages where people only marry out of choice. We also have other plans to radicalize the education sector, and, as a mother, I’m sure you can become involved in that too. But we can discuss that further down the line when we are re-elected.’
Roxi was torn. ‘I promised my family that I’d turned my back on a media career. I haven’t done any interviews because I didn’t want to bring any more attention to my kids than I already have. They’re bullied at school, my husband has been forced out of his job . . .’
‘All trivialities that can be taken care of. We can ensure Owen doesn’t need to work again to support his family and that Darcy and Josh are enrolled in the best private schools. You’ll be doing this as much for them as you are for your country.’ His eyes darkened as he smiled. ‘And perhaps a little bit for yourself. Play your part in making that happen and you have a wonderful career ahead of you.’
‘You’re asking me to choose between fame and my family. What if you’re not re-elected? I’ll have lost everything.’
‘Life is a gamble, is it not? I’m offering you the opportunity to win big.’
The man gave Roxi two days to consider it. By the time he stood up, she had already made her decision.
Trying to convince Owen of her intentions the next day had not been as straightforward.
‘You can’t do this,’ he warned.
Roxi moved her chair forwards, its legs scraping against the floor.
‘Why not? This is the perfect solution. You and the kids are taken care of financially and I get to resume my career.’
‘No.’ Owen shook his head. ‘No, no. Just keep your head down and serve your time and, when you get out of here, we can carry on as we were.’
Roxi flinched. It didn’t go unnoticed by her husband.
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘I don’t want to carry on as we were,’ she said quietly. ‘And I don’t want to be with you any longer.’
Owen’s face dropped.
‘I’m so, so sorry but I’ve tried being that woman and it’s just not me. You and the kids . . . it breaks my heart to admit it but you’re not enough. And please believe me, it’s not your fault; this is completely on me. The fact is I am what I am, and, first and foremost, it’s not a wife or a mother.’
Roxi closed her eyes and didn’t open them again until she heard the door to the visitors’ room slam.
Three weeks had passed since she’d last spoken to either Owen or her children. She considered recording a video to send to Darcy and Josh, assuring them they were blameless, but decided against it. She had also denied Darcy’s request to visit her, partly because of its potential for awkwardness and also because it coincided with a sponsor’s appointment to walk her through a collection of Vlog-friendly prison outfits.
Meanwhile Roxi’s lawyer had informed her that Owen’s divorce proceedings had been thwarted by Family Court magistrates at the first hearing. She could only assume her pale-faced ally had exerted his influence.
Roxi pushed her familial guilt to one side and diverted all her focus towards her reanimated career. She worked with a team of script writers on discussion points and assembled a team of fellow inmates she nicknamed the Glam Squad, all with experience in hair and make-up. Others were chosen to participate in a crash course in filming, lighting, sound and editing, and tutored by television industry professionals.
Within hours of her first Vlog going live, the news that Roxi Sager, Influencer, mother, wife and protector of Smart Marriages everywhere had returned to social media from behind bars went viral. Her numbers escalated at a rate she had never experienced before.
She had never felt as free as she was right now.
*
‘This is the first time the Government has used a convicted killer to promote anything,’ continued presenter Esther Green, ‘which is something that has riled your critics.’
‘Obviously I’d rather it had happened under different circumstances, but what’s done is done and now I have to make the best of it,’ Roxi replied.
‘Do you regret Antoinette Cooper’s death?’ co-presenter Stuart James asked.
‘Absolutely, and if I could take that awful day back, then of course I would. But I’d like to reiterate, it wasn’t a deliberate act. I’ve never been one to shy away from responsibility, which is why I pleaded guilty to manslaughter. I hold my hands up and admit that, because of my mistake, two families have lost mothers.’ She blinked Darcy and Josh’s faces away.
‘You’re slipping into shoes last worn by Jem Jones,’ said Esther. ‘And we all know how tragically that story ended.’
‘What happened to Jem was a terrible thing, but I’d like to think that I am a stronger woman than she was. Given the way I was raised in the care system, I’ve had to be. And I intend to show the world who I really am with my new series of prison Vlogs, while reminding people how important it is to support the Sanctity of Marriage Act, especially with a general election on the horizon.’
‘But the altercation between you and Mrs Cooper was because of the Act, wasn’t it? You were scared your husband’s “affair” might lead you to divorce, and not only might you lose him, but your lifestyle too?’
‘I will never blame the Act for anything,’ Roxi replied. ‘Our confrontation was my fault. Act or no Act, I wanted to save my marriage and keep my husband. What happened that day was a tragic misunderstanding. But as many have argued, had Mrs Cooper not broken the law herself by working illegally as a couple’s therapist, our paths would never have crossed and this whole mess could’ve been avoidable.’
‘Of course, yours was not the only court case to receive media attention,’ Esther continued. ‘What are your thoughts on Jeffrey Beech, who, according to reports, was found hanging in his cell earlier this morning?’
That was news to Roxi, a line of questioning she hadn’t prepared for. But she didn’t let it faze her. ‘Like everyone else, I’m horrified by how he took advantage of couples with marital difficulties. He deliberately hurt people whereas I did not. My actions aren’t comparable to his crimes so good riddance to him. I want to help others to learn from my mistakes and remind people they’re better off married than alone. That’s all any of us can do, isn’t it? Love and learn to be better?’
‘And what happens if the anti-Government groundswell continues to rise? If they fail to win the next election, are you out of a job?’
‘We’ll have to see,’ she replied with a rehearsed smile. ‘So let’s hope not!’
‘Then what would you do?’
For a moment, Roxi stared blankly at the camera. It was a good question. What would she do? There was nothing and no one out there waiting for her beyond her career. Plan B was not an option because it did not exist.
‘I’m a survivor, Esther. Don’t worry about me.’
Roxi gave the camera a final smile and, for a moment, she almost believed she had nothing to fear. But if the lens ever stopped focusing on her again, she knew that she would cease to exist. She had been that person once before and hated it. She would always find a way to continue being burned by the flames of fame and not extinguished as a nobody.
92
Corrine
Corrine held the hands of the two young men standing either side of her as they accompanied one another across the stage in a show of unity. Their limbs trembled every bit as much as hers until they reached the podium. Two more followed behind them, equally as nervous.
It was halfway through the afternoon before they took to the stage and it was impossible not to feel intimidated by the vast audience of London’s Kennington Park. News reports suggested that of the million-plus people who had descended upon the capital that day to protest against the Sanctity of Marriage Act, more than 100,000 people were now standing in front of her. Many of the audience wore t-shirts with Freedom for All’s logo emblazoned across the chest, others held brightly coloured banners aloft. Giant screens had been erected in parks to broadcast the speeches of keynote speakers, of which she was one.
Corrine and her guests waited in a line until the audience’s applause tapered off before she drew the microphone to her mouth. She had expected to be terrified by the daunting task ahead. Instead, a sudden burst of adrenaline offered her a new-found confidence.
‘Good afternoon, everyone,’ she began. ‘My name is Corrine Nelson and I am part of the Northampton chapter of the FFA. Several months ago, my colleague Nathan Deakin and I became tasked with investigating allegations against education minister Eleanor Harrison, my local Member of Parliament. These brave young men on my left and right came forward to warn us that she had a history of intoxicating and sexually abusing young men. They knew this because they are survivors of her attacks.’
