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“Paige, Paige, Paige,” the Durmites started to chant.

Knowing they were doing it to humiliate her, Paige looked imploringly at Miss Kendrick.

“Paige has done enough,” Miss Kendrick shouted over the noise, “and as we’re practically there, we’ll delay our discussion until our visit is over.”

Paige’s eyes widened with alarm as she glanced at Charlotte.

“Miss,” Charlotte cried, “I thought we were supposed to be making our own way home from the center.”

“Indeed, I’d forgotten,” Miss Kendrick admitted, “so we’ll resume the reading at our next lesson, by which time I will expect every one of you to have rehearsed your role or roles thoroughly enough to convince me that you have a fuller understanding of the piece than you seem to have now. Part of that will come in the essays I will set for homework.”

As everyone groaned, the bus came to a stop outside the elegant old building in the Maritime Quarter that had once been Swansea’s guildhall but was now home to the Dylan Thomas Centre. With its exquisitely smooth Bath stone frontage, circular and arched windows, and neat little side garden, it was a place Paige knew quite well, due to several visits with her mum.

“Thank God for that,” Charlotte muttered as they clambered down from the bus. “I thought for one horrible minute she’d changed her mind and was going to make us go back to school when this bloody trip is over.”

Paige suddenly gasped. “I forgot to tell my dad not to pick us up.” She opened up her phone. “I’d better call him.”

Going through to his voicemail, she left a message saying, “No need to meet us at the Dylan Thomas Centre. Thanks anyway. Love you.” After clicking off she rang her mother. “Hey, is Dad there?”

“No, he’s out,” Jenna answered. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. He was going to pick us up later, but he doesn’t need to now. Charlotte and I have decided to go over to Oxford Street and do some shopping. Is that OK?”

“I guess so. Do you have any money?”

“Some. We’re not going to buy anything. It’s just for a look round.”

“What about homework?”

“I’ll do it later. I’ve got to have some freedom, Mum.”

“I understand that; I was just asking. Did you leave a message for Dad?”

“Yeah. Where is he?”

“I’m not sure at the moment. He had a meeting with Martha and her team earlier, but he could be with the lawyer by now, which would be why he’s not answering his phone.”

“Right. Actually, that’s who rang him before he went out on Saturday. Martha. I saw it come up on his phone.”

There was a moment before her mother said, “Are you sure?”

“That’s what I saw. Anyway, sorry, got to go. I’m not supposed to have my phone on.”

As she rang off there was a sudden scuffle behind her, someone fell into her, and the next thing she knew her phone was being snatched from her hand.

“Hey!” she cried as Bethany Gates made off with it. “Give it back.”

“Keep your mouth shut,” Kelly Durham hissed in her ear, “or I’ll shut it for you.” Jamming an elbow into Paige’s ribs, she took off after Bethany.

Paige turned to Charlotte, shock and fear darkening her eyes.

“They won’t keep it,” Charlotte told her. “They’re just being stupid.”

“What if they wipe everything, or send texts or emails making it look like they’re from me?”

“Hey, Paige!” someone shouted.

Paige looked up, the camera went off, and all she could do was watch as Kelly, Bethany, Owen, and the others glanced at the shot and roared with laughter.

“What’s going on?” Miss Kendrick demanded, coming up behind her. “Paige, are you all right? You’re looking a little pale, dear.”

“I’m fine, miss, thanks,” Paige assured her. Clearly Miss Kendrick hadn’t seen the phone being stolen or she’d have done something about it, and Paige was too scared of the consequences to tell her.

For the next interminable hour she tried to pay attention as Miss Kendrick and one of the center’s organizers talked them through what was to happen and where they were to go on the evening of their special performance. Though Paige was excited about it, another part of her was starting to seriously wish that Miss Kendrick hadn’t chosen year ten to perform for the centenary. It wasn’t like most of the class was even familiar with the piece, and at least half of them probably never would be, the way they carried on.

“It’s your fault,” Cullum had grumbled when Miss Kendrick had first announced the honor she was bestowing upon the GCSE group. “You’re the one who knows it, who can bloody recite from it, who loves it like she does, and now you’ve dropped the rest of us in it. Just don’t go backing out, that’s all I can say, because no way in the world am I getting up in front of anyone to play First Voice.”

Since he was her understudy, he’d have to take part if something happened to her, but she’d assured him he needn’t worry, because nothing would make her miss out on the role, even if she had to go onstage in a plaster cast or a wheelchair.

Famous last words?

At last the visit to the center was over, but no way was Paige leaving without her phone, so while Charlotte Snapchatted Liam she went to confront Bethany.

“Where is it?” she demanded, her heart thudding so fast she was sure everyone could hear it.

“Where’s what?” Bethany answered snootily, while Kelly sniggered behind her.

“You know what I’m talking about. You took my phone and I want it back.”

“I don’t have your stupid phone,” Bethany informed her.

“Yes you do.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

Flushing deeply, Paige said, “You know you have it, so please give it back.”

Coming up beside her, Charlotte said, “Give it to her, Bethany.”

Kelly’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe you’re sticking up for her after what she said about you on Facebook.”

“She didn’t say it,” Charlotte shot back.

Kelly sneered. “No, of course, someone hacked her account. Like as if.”

“Owen,” Paige said, appealing to him, “please make them give my phone back.”

“Nothing to do with me,” he retorted, turning away.

“Oh, looks like you dropped it,” Bethany suddenly declared.

Paige turned round, and seeing a phone lying on the grass, she ran to it. It was hers, thank God, and grabbing it up, she hurried away to check it. Thankfully all her information still seemed to be there, but so too were several text messages sent during the past hour. A couple had gone to Kelly and Bethany with the photo they’d taken of her attached; the rest, she realized to her horror, had gone to Oliver.

How the hell did they know about Oliver?

With panic tearing through her she began to read.

Hi Oliver, I’ve just got to tell you how much I want you to shag me. Let me know if you want it too. Paige Moore.

Oliver, baby, I want your dick in my mouth.

I can’t stop thinking about you. Come all over me.

She stopped reading. Sobs were tearing through her so hard that she could no longer see the words anyway.

Putting an arm round her, Charlotte took the phone and read the messages herself. “What’s the fucking matter with them?” she hissed angrily. “They’re sick, that’s what they are. Sick and twisted.”

“But how…how did they know I like Oliver?” Paige gasped. “I never told anyone apart from you.”

Charlotte took a step back. “You don’t think…Jesus Christ, Paige.”

“No, I know you wouldn’t have…I just…I mean…” She couldn’t think what to say. She really hadn’t told anyone else, so how had Kelly and Bethany found out?

“You’ve got to have told someone else,” Charlotte insisted. “What about Julie the stalker? Did you tell her?”

Paige shook her head. “No way. She asked once if I had a boyfriend and I said no, because it’s the truth. Oh God, Charlotte, what’s he going to think? I have to text and let him know that someone stole my phone.”

“Definitely,” Charlotte agreed.

“What shall I say?”

Charlotte tried to think.

“What about if I say something like ‘I’m really, really sorry you’ve received those vile messages. Some girls at school stole my phone and they thought it was funny to try and make me look stupid. Please ignore them. Sorry again’?”

“Yep. That sounds good,” Charlotte agreed.

After tapping out the message, Paige said, “I want to know how they found out. It’s like they’ve read my mind, for God’s sake….Are you sure nothing got said on Saturday?”

Charlotte was starting to color. “Actually, Hayley asked me if you fancied him.”

Paige’s face paled. “Why did she ask that? I’ve never mentioned anything to her.”

“No idea. She just came out with it.”

“And so you told her I did?”

“No, of course not. All I said was even if you did it was no one’s business.”

“So you more or less confirmed it?”

“No! I just tried to make light of it. Listen, I reckon Owen’s behind it. He was with us when we went to watch Oliver playing rugby—it could be he noticed you looking at him, or overheard us saying something. I’m just guessing, but I can’t think how else they’d know.”

Paige couldn’t either, and since she couldn’t afford to be angry with the only friend she seemed to have left, she said, “They’ve got a photo of me. What do you think they’re going to do with it?”

Charlotte regarded her uneasily. Though they both had a fair idea of what might happen, neither wanted to put it into words. “They’ve probably done it to scare you,” she said lamely. “They won’t actually do anything.”

Wishing she could believe that, Paige stared down at her phone. At least it was only a head-and-shoulders shot of her looking surprised. There wouldn’t be much they could do with that, apart from bombard Oliver with it, which was making her want to die just to think of it. Still, she’d let him know that her phone had been stolen, so at least he’d realize that any pictures he received would be a result of this.

“Do you still want to go shopping?” Charlotte asked dubiously.

Paige nodded. “Yes, I think we should.” She was staring back along the street toward Salubrious Place, where a couple had just come out of Morgan’s Hotel. “Dad!” she called out, starting toward him. “Dad!”

As he turned around she waved, hoping the Durmites had heard and were slithering away into the holes they belonged in, now that her dad was in the vicinity. No one would dare to say or do anything mean to her while he was around.

“Paige, sweetheart,” Jack laughed, catching her in his arms as she reached him. “What are you doing here?”

“School trip,” she told him. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I’ve just been in a meeting. You remember Martha, don’t you?”

The cheerful-looking blond woman was regarding Paige with a kindly interest. “I don’t think we’ve actually met, but you’re helping with Mum and Dad’s new business, aren’t you?” Paige said to her.

“That’s right.” Martha smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you. And this is your friend?”

“Oh yes. Charlotte, you know my dad, and this is Martha. Is there any chance you can give us a lift home after we’ve been shopping?” she asked her father. “Mum said it was all right to go….”

“I’d love to, sweetheart,” he told her, “but I’m on my way to another meeting now and I don’t expect to be through until gone six. Tell you what, though, take this and treat yourselves to something nice, the two of you.” Planting two 20-pound notes in her hand, he stroked her face and told her he’d see her at home later.

“So how did everything go today?” Jenna asked stiffly as Jack came in the door just after seven.

“It was good,” he replied, shrugging off his coat.

“Did you sign off with the lawyer?”

“More or less. There are a couple more things to straighten out. I have to go back tomorrow.”

The way he was avoiding her eyes was making her insides churn with unease. Did he know that she’d guessed? Could he be steeling himself to tell her anyway?

Now would be a terrible time, with her mother due to bring the younger ones back from Rainbow Guides and Beaver Scouts at any minute.

She watched him go to the fridge and take out a beer. “I take it you got Paige’s message that she didn’t need picking up?” she said, going back to the peanut butter cookies she was making. They were Josh’s favorites. Tomorrow she’d make strawberry jam tarts for the twins. Why was this feeling like part of another world? It was as though she was losing her grip when nothing had changed, at least on the surface.

Underneath there was a riptide trying to drag her to places she desperately didn’t want to go.

“Yes, I did,” he replied. “I ran into her, outside the Dylan Thomas Centre.”

“Oh?”

“She was on a school trip. Is she home yet?”

“She went straight to Charlotte’s. She should be back around eight.”

Nodding, he downed half the beer and headed for the door.

Suddenly angry, she said, “Don’t you have anything more to say to me?”

He stopped but didn’t turn round. “What exactly do you want me to say?” he enquired tightly.

I’d like you to tell me this isn’t happening, that you’re sorry you’ve made me think the worst, that nothing’s changing…
“I’d like to know why you’re behaving like this,” she cried. “You’re obviously hiding something.”