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Keeley first meets Rebecca Mannion at the Sun’s Christmas party. She gets an invite every December — a hang over from her Page Three days — and she doesn’t always say yes, but this year she was getting over a particularly shitty break-up with the latest in a long line of shitty men and needed a distraction and decided, fuck it, why not?
Her first thought when she sees Rebecca is just: boobs. Because apparently sometimes she’s a teenage boy. But seriously, the woman’s figure is incredible . Keeley can’t stop staring, but she needs to get a grip because at some point, one of the many, many, many people in the room who are paid to write awful gossip columns will notice.
Keeley’s second thought, when she sees Rupert Mannion walk over, slide an arm around Rebecca and kiss her on the cheek, is oh fuck no . Because she hadn’t recognised Rebecca at first, but she recognises Rupert. Hard to forget him, given he’d cornered her outside the loos half an hour earlier and tried to sweet talk her into coming into the disabled toilet with him.
She knows the rumours. She’s friends with a number of models and reality TV stars and influencers and they have a bit of a network of creeps — rich and famous men that they should look to avoid when they’re out and about. The ones who aren't worth the hassle, no matter the offer. Rupert Mannion’s name has been tossed around a few times, but she’d never given it much thought before.
But now? Keeley might not know anything about Rebecca Mannion, but she’s suddenly struck with the overwhelming urge to make sure she knows exactly who her husband is, and give her a chance to get away from him, if that’s what she wants.
So she watches and waits and when Rupert slips away — probably to find some other girl to grope in an empty corridor — Keeley makes her move.
“Hi!” she says brightly. “I’m Keeley Jones. I noticed you earlier, thought you were well fit and that I should introduce myself.” That startles a laugh out of Rebecca, a loud one, and when a few people nearby glance their way she covers her mouth awkwardly.
“Thank you,” Rebecca replies, from behind her hand. “I think. I’m Rebecca Mannion.”
“Oh I know who you are.” Keeley scoops up a glass of champagne as a waiter walks past. “Look, I’m going to jump straight to it. Your husband is a twat. He tried to get me to shag him in the toilets earlier, and I’m sure he’s trying it on with someone else right now too. I might not know you, but I’m sure you deserve better than that.”
Rebecca’s face falls, and she grabs the champagne from Keeley’s hand, downing the remaining liquid in one gulp. “I know,” she says. “Both that he’s a twat, and that he’s cheating on me. I’ve known for a while, but I can’t find any proof and without that, his lawyers would destroy mine in court.”
Well, Keeley thinks. If it’s proof Rebecca wants, she’s certain she can help there. She’s willing to engage in a bit of espionage to help out another woman in need.
~
Keeley thinks she may have missed her calling in life. It turns out she makes a bloody brilliant spy. This had been almost too easy.
Step one: reach out to a couple of the women she knows that have been hit on by Rupert Mannion. Two of them confessed they had slept with him, and a third, Melanie, had actually been invited over to his place for dinner that weekend. She’d been umming and ahhing about saying yes — apparently he could be quite charming, and she had a thing for older men. She knew, of course, that Rupert was married, but she also knew he’d had other affairs and he was the one cheating on a spouse, not her.
Maybe she did judge him a little bit for it though, because when Keeley asked if she’d be up for playing the part of the honey pot, she’d yes pretty quickly. Eagerly, even.
Step two: buy a decent camera.
Step three: learn how to use said camera after a lot of trial and error and swearing.
Step four: the stakeout.
Stakeouts in the American cop shows that Keeley sometimes watches are a lot more fun than the reality. Melanie had sent her the address of the posh Knighstbridge flat Rupert had invited her too and a bit of snooping meant Keeley was fairly certain one of the balconies on the fourth floor belonged to Rupert.
She’d asked Melanie to try and get him out onto the balcony and into as compromising a position as possible, if she was up for it, and Mel had just laughed and agreed. Apparently she really did find Rupert attractive, but she was willing to combine getting off with helping out another woman.
The date’s been going on for hours though, and Keeley’s about ready to give up when finally, the balcony doors slide open and Rupert and Melanie come out and move over to the railing. Melanie leans back against it and Keeley opens the car window and gets her camera ready, zooming in on them both. Melanie turns to face the general direction of the street and winks, the little shit, before turning back to Rupert and pulling him down for a kiss. And then another one. Keeley’s half afraid they’re going to fuck right then and there, but eventually Melanie shoves him back a bit and leads him inside once more.
Step five: compile the evidence.
Keeley collects signed statements from all the women she’s found who are willing to admit they’ve slept with Rupert, adds them to a number of printed screenshots of texts and DMs and puts them all in an envelope along with the photos of Rupert and Melanie.
She finishes it off with a post-it note stuck to the most incriminating of the photos — Rupert with his tongue down Melanie’s throat and a hand up her top, groping her breast.
Rebecca — hopefully these will get the job done. As soon as you leave him, call me xxx
~
There are many many perks to dating the newly divorced Rebecca Welton, but spending the summer stretched out topless in the sun on the deck of Rebecca’s private yacht moored off the coast of Minorca? Keeley thinks that might just be one of her favourites.