Stargirl of the Edge

Ch 52 - Press Conference

Olivia and her mum have unexpectedly been flown by helicopter to London, where they are about to give a press conference and appeal for the release of Dennis. Olivia is in a state of shock after the helicopter trip - she suffers from fear of flying - and now she has to do the thing she is most afraid of.

Now it was about to happen, the moment Olivia had been dreading had arrived. Her heart was beating rapidly, her mouth was dry, she had a headache. They walked down the corridor and then into a large room that was packed with reporters, photographers and TV cameramen.
The glare of the camera lenses and countless pairs of curious eyes felt like heat from a fire and she longed to get out of it. The journalists and camera operators were like angry mythical monsters, watching a spectacle in a Roman amphitheatre, and she was the victim.
The three of them took a seat at the desk on a stage at the front. There were lots of microphones with the names of different media organisations and TV channels.
Liz was on the left, Olivia in the middle and Marianne on the right.  Marianne leaned forward towards the microphone.
“Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen of the media from all over the world for attending at short notice. I will now let Mrs Elizabeth Yang take the microphone.”
Marianne sat back and then Liz leaned forward, grabbing hold of the microphone with her hand, causing it to crackle.  She gazed all around the room and then spoke.
“I would like to request the persons who are holding my husband, Mr Dennis Yang, to please release him immediately. He came to your country to help the people there and improve their quality of life by helping to provide them with fresh water. He is very fond of your people and your country and has made many friends there. I ask you please to set him free. Thank you.”
Marianne and Liz looked at Olivia. She was covering her face with her hands. Liz leaned over to her and whispered in her ear.  Finally she opened her eyes and spoke as clearly as she could into the mike.
“Please… my father didn’t do any harm to anyone! My mum and me, we miss him so much!”
Now she was fighting back the tears and there was a heightening of tension in the room.
“Please!” she cried, sobbing, her voice breaking, almost screaming “please, please free him, so he can come home!”
As her sobbing became more intense, the room became as quiet as an operating theatre. The cameramen focused their lenses directly on Olivia’s face, like surgeons cutting out the raw emotion and broadcasting it for the whole world to look at.
Scores of camera shutters clicked and flashguns fired. Again, a second wave of clicks and flashes went round the room, journalists scribbled, or spoke in low voices into microphones or recording devices.  Most didn’t show any emotion, but a few did.
Marianne waited a few more moments, looking around the room and then at Olivia’s face. Without a trace of emotion and at just the right moment, she leaned forward again and spoke into the microphones.
“Thank you, the meeting is now finished. Mrs Yang and her daughter will not be available for interviews. Please consult the press release and look at the campaign website.”
She told Liz and Olivia to stand up, and led them out of the room. There was a final flurry of camera shutters and flashguns. A few journalists tried to shout questions, but they were ignored.
Liz linked arms with Olivia, who was now covering her face with the black scarf.
“Well done, darling” she whispered.
Marianne led them along the corridor, down some stairs and then straight back out onto the helipad to the helicopter, which was ready to take off.
Marianne quickly squeezed Liz’s hand, before she and Olivia climbed back into the helicopter.
Liz wrapped her arms around Olivia, holding her close. Marianne waited for the pilot to give her the ‘thumbs up’ sign, then the rotors started to spin faster, the engines whined louder, and the helicopter rose up into the air, high over the heads of people standing around, and up, over the River Thames, reaching the height of the office towers of Canary Wharf, within sight of the Olympic village.
Higher and faster the helicopter flew until it was not far under the clouds and heading north, passing over Wembley stadium and roughly following the line of the M1 motorway. The aircraft flew solidly and steadily with little sensation of movement.
Inside, Olivia still had her hands over her eyes, shivering with fear, her mum holding her tightly with both arms.
The two remained like this for some time, until the helicopter was flying across the wild empty landscape of the Pennines. Soon the gently curving, tree-covered form of Alderley Edge came into view up ahead. The cars moving in both directions along Macclesfield seemed like tiny models. Seen from two hundred feet above, with trees on either side, the narrow hillside ravine named Engine Vein mine appeared like a rocky scar extending down the eastern slope of the Edge, its darker, shadowy interior just visible in between.
The helicopter moved slowly and steadily down, getting closer and closer to the field next to the house, until it gently made contact with the ground.
The pilot jumped out, opened the door, and stood up straight. Olivia and Liz climbed out, waved at the pilot, and rushed towards the house, keeping their heads down.  The pilot climbed back into the aircraft and again the sound of the rotor blades rose to a deafening roar, as it overcame the bonds of gravity and rose into the air. As it gained height and speed, the sound grew fainter and fainter until all was quiet again.
Hippy Dave was waiting at the back door.
“They showed the appeal on the BBC news channel. Wow, you were both amazing, especially you, Livvy, awesome!”
Olivia didn’t react, but Liz smiled and accompanied her into the lounge and told her to lie down on the couch.
Olivia was shattered, relieved that she was still alive and that the ordeal was over. She just wanted to lie quietly and forget about everything. Liz put a blanket over her and she pulled it tight. Jessie walked over from her basket and jumped onto the couch next to her. Hippy Dave jumped into his tiny orange truck and drove home.
Liz phoned Marianne to tell her they had arrived back safely. She heard the recorded answer so she left a voicemail message. It was a quarter to five.
That evening, Liz watched the news programmes on the TV in her bedroom. Olivia lay on the couch and there was virtually no sound from her.
All the main news programmes carried the item about the appeal of the wife and daughter of the kidnapped Chinese businessman. Olivia’s desperate cry was heard by millions watching on television, surfing the internet on computers, on tablets, mobiles and other devices, all over the UK and all over the world.
On countless TV channels, in many different languages, the story was relayed to all parts of the globe by male and female presenters of all skin colours and costumes.
In China, Hong Kong, Taiwan and other parts of the Chinese speaking world, there was a lot of interest and sympathy. Even North Korea featured the story towards the end of its main news evening news bulletin.
Across the target region, and specifically in the troubled country where Dennis was being held captive, it was at the top of every news bulletin. Groups of men sat outside tiny shops and watched on old television sets. Women were at home with their families and relatives, glued to the screen, exchanging comments about the poor half Chinese looking girl who was crying and her mother with the black curly hair sitting next to her.
Yes, there was a feeling of sympathy, but also there was a sense that this was nothing new. There were kidnappings all the time, and yet few of them were ever reported in the news.
This hostage and his family seemed to be getting special treatment because they were from a Western country.
All eyes were watching the screens, and amongst them, there must have been individuals who knew something.  Perhaps those who had kidnapped him were watching, and who knows, maybe even the kidnapped person himself. What must his thoughts have been, to see his wife and daughter on begging for his release? Surely now his captors had to let him go.
Liz sat in front of the TV in her bedroom, others involved in the campaign watched in their homes around Cheshire, across the UK, in London and overseas.
Quite a few people contacted with information. There were a number of calls from people who said they had seen him walking on the street that evening in various parts of the city. But each one was a case of mistaken identity.
Liz’s phone started to ring and she spoke to friend after friend, others involved in the campaign, important contacts, journalists, influential people who had called to offer their support. Everyone agreed about the courage and spirit of Olivia and what a remarkable young woman she was.
Olivia also received some text messages from friends and classmates. ‘Wow I couldn’t do that!’ people kept on saying.
And there was one text message in particular that Olivia felt especially touched by. It read:

‘Hi saw you on tv your ace! I cried too. you should be proud I’m sure your dad will be out soon see you maybe love Ben x’

Olivia read and re-read it. She put the iPhone to one side and tried to think of a reply, but she fell asleep.
The coverage continued on news programmes later in the evening, finishing with the regional news.
It had been a demanding and exciting day, and Liz felt shattered. She went downstairs and slept on the other couch so she could be near Olivia, who was still fast asleep with Jessie curled up at her feet.

I have been to many press conferences. I love the atmosphere of drama and heightened tension that found at many press conferences. I remember talking my way into the press conference at Manchester Airport after the nanny accused of child murder - Louise Woodward - had returned home from the United States. I was reporting for my old website Eyewitness in Manchester, part of the then Manchester Evening News website. For Stargirl of the Edge, I have drawn extensively on my media experience.