0345549538 (18 page)

Jenna almost stammered as she said, “Yes, yes, of course.” Did she mean for the lunch they kept promising each other? Or was it about something else? “I’m quite flexible. When would suit you?”

“Tomorrow? Eleven o’clock. I can come to you.”

Jenna’s heart rose into her mouth. “That sounds fine,” she responded.

“Great. I’ll see you then.” The line went dead.

Half expecting Paige to comment, Jenna waited, but it seemed Paige was too engrossed in her own texting—or chat room, or whatever she was currently connected to—to be bothered about a random call of her mother’s.

They were heading across the Bryn now, and Jenna could feel herself becoming increasingly agitated, convinced that the reason Martha wanted to see her was to tell her about the affair she was having with Jack. Why else would she come to the house when there were no new computer systems to demonstrate? It was somewhere she could leave when she was done, and where Jenna wouldn’t have to face the ordeal of getting home.

It wasn’t Martha’s place to tell her; it was Jack’s.

“Mum! You nearly ran that pony over,” Paige cried sharply.

“Did I? Sorry. I was miles away.”

Paige turned to look at her. “What’s the matter with you?” she challenged. “You’ve gone weird all of a sudden.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Are you all right? Oh God, Mum, are you crying?”

Jenna forced a laugh. “Of course not. I was just…” Just what? She didn’t know what she was trying to say. “I was thinking about Josh and the twins. They’ve gone to a birthday party at Pizza Express.”

“And that’s making you cry?”

Jenna laughed again. “I can get a bit emotional when I think about how much I love you children.”

“Oh, puh-lease,” Paige muttered.

Jenna’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Why are you being so unkind to me?” she asked. “You can be very hurtful sometimes, did you know that?”

Paige colored as her face tightened defensively. A few seconds passed before she said, “Sorry, I don’t mean to be.”

Jenna glanced at her. “I’m sorry too.”

“What for?”

“Getting on your nerves?”

Paige turned to look out of the window. “You wouldn’t be a proper mother if you didn’t do that.”

Jenna laughed through a sob.

Paige turned back. “What’s wrong?” she persisted.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Yes there is.”

“No there isn’t. Tell me about your day.”

“Have you had a row with Dad?”

“No. Now stop trying to talk about me. I’m more interested in you.”

“Because I’m
really
fascinating.”

“You are to me.”

“Did you know people used to be horrible to Grandma when she was young?”

“Yes, I did.”

“She said it was because she was different.”

“Like we always say, she’s her own person.”

“Do you think I’m like Grandma?”

Surprised, Jenna said, “No, not at all. Why? Is someone being horrible to you?”

When Paige didn’t answer, Jenna turned to look at her. “I said, is someone—”

“It’s just some stupid girls trying to look big.”

“In what way?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll get over it. Dad’s ringing.”

Clicking on to answer, Jenna said, “Are you still with the lawyer?”

“Just finished. Where are you?”

“On the way home with Paige.”

“OK. I should be there in about an hour. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“She’s not,” Paige called out. “She was crying just now.”

“I wasn’t,” Jenna objected. “I just got a bit emotional, that’s all, the way I do sometimes.”

“Yeah, like when you’ve had a row with Dad.”

“I told you—”

A single tone suddenly came down the line.

Paige looked at her mother in shock. “Did he just hang up on us?” she demanded.

“No, of course not,” Jenna replied, fearing that he might have. “We must have lost the connection. He’ll ring back, I’m sure.”

Several minutes ticked by as they drove through Reynoldston and on to Scurlage toward home. Jenna’s heart was beating so fiercely it hurt. Surely to God he hadn’t just cut them off. Would he really do that to Paige? Why would he do it at all?

Whatever the reason, it seemed he wasn’t going to share it with them, because the phone remained resolutely silent until they pulled up at the house in the rain, and all Jenna could feel thankful for then was the fact that Paige appeared more interested in what she was texting than in whatever might be going on with her parents.

—

After getting out of the car Paige disappeared into the house and ran straight upstairs to her room. She was right in the middle of private-messaging with Julie, so she simply dumped her bag on the floor and sat cross-legged on the bed to carry on their chat. She still had no idea whether Julie was one of the Durmites, but just in case she was, Paige was using this chat to try to make them feel bad about what they were doing. With any luck it might persuade them to leave her alone.

So what happened after you saw the texts to Oliver?
was Julie’s last question.

I texted him myself to let him know my phone had been stolen. I don’t know if he believed me, but I hope so, because it’s not true that I fancy him. I hardly even know him, and anyway he’s got a girlfriend who’s really nice.

No one needed to know, apart from Charlotte, how devastated Paige really felt that Oliver had never responded to her friend request or to her text apologizing for the texts the Durmites had sent, or how torn up she felt every time she thought of him with the stunning Lindsay.

It just wasn’t fair. Nothing was working out for her the way it was for Charlotte, who was sexting and Snapchatting all the time with Liam now. They still hadn’t been on a date, but it was definitely going to happen, and Charlotte had already made up her mind that when it did, she was going all the way.

If you don’t fancy Oliver you don’t really need to worry about what he thinks, do you?

I suppose not, but if you’d seen the messages you’d realize why I wouldn’t want him—or anyone—to think they were from me. They were really childish and disgusting.

I expect I can guess the sort of thing. Sorry you’re having to go through it.

I’m thinking about telling someone, like my parents, or a teacher.

If she threatened that, maybe they’d think twice about bothering her anymore.

Are you sure it won’t make things worse?

Like how?

When it happened to me I reported it and ended up wishing I hadn’t. It got really bad then.

Paige swallowed dryly.
It happened to you?

Yes, last year, before you started at The Landings. It’s why I don’t want to tell you who I really am. If they find out we’re friends they’ll probably turn on me again and I just couldn’t handle it.

How did you get them to stop?

I didn’t. I guess they just got bored with me and ended up leaving me alone. Then I saw them starting on you. That’s why I got in touch, so you wouldn’t feel so much on your own.

Paige wasn’t sure what to say to that.

I know you think I might be one of them, but I promise you, I hate them every bit as much as you do.

Didn’t you ever tell your parents?
Paige asked.

Yes, but there’s nothing anyone can do. They’ll just say they’re kidding around, and that you’re taking things too seriously. Then they start getting at you in other ways. They beat me up once and threatened to kill me if I told anyone who did it.

Paige’s head was spinning. It had never crossed her mind that it might get even worse, but obviously it could.

Another time they pushed my head down a toilet and made me drink the water.

Paige almost gagged just to think of it.

All that happened after I’d reported them. There was other stuff too, but I don’t like thinking about it now.

They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.

I know, but there’s no law against it so they can carry on all they like. By the way, what made them think you fancy Oliver?

I’m not sure. I think Owen might have told them.

I see he’s on their side now. I suppose I don’t blame him. At least if he’s with them they’re less likely to pick on him.

Having figured that out for herself, Paige said,
I always thought he was a good friend.

I’m sure he was, but it’s a case of survival. Don’t be surprised if they manage to get round your other friends too. It’s what they did to me.

Do you have any friends now?

Some. Like you.

But we don’t really know each other.

We can chat like this though. You said they took a photo of you. Have they done anything with it yet?

Paige’s insides churned.
I don’t think so. What do you reckon they’ll do?

Hard to say. Maybe they took it just to freak you out.

They’d definitely succeeded in that.

Sorry, I have to go. Will contact you later if I can.

As the connection was lost, Paige lowered her phone and stared with anxious eyes at her computer. It was making her feel sick to think of what might be waiting for her there: more lies, more abuse, more pretense of being her with crude and derogatory postings. She wasn’t sure she had the courage to go online to find out, but at the same time, how could she not? She had to know what was being said. For all she knew someone had managed to hack her account again, or had even set up others in her name. They had her photo now and could do anything with it: use it as a profile, send it to perverts, even doctor it in ways she didn’t want to think about.

Looking at her phone as it bleeped with a text, her heart turned over to see it was from Kelly.

Hey Daddy’s bitch, big surprise waiting for you tomorrow. Think you’re going to love it. LOL

Jenna had decided to wait until the younger children were tucked up in bed and her mother had gone home before tackling Jack about ringing off on her earlier. This wasn’t working out too well. It had been a difficult evening, most of which Jack hadn’t been there for, with angry fights over nothing at all; delightful projectile vomiting from Wills, who’d eaten too much at the party; a tumble down the stairs from Flora, who’d screamed the place down more out of shock than injury; and the discovery of a leaked felt-tip pen all over Josh’s carpet. All three had played up about going to bed, refusing to do so until Daddy came home, at which point, mercifully, Jack had walked in the door. Some order had then been restored, though not before Josh had managed to knock over and smash a lamp in the sitting room and Paige had wrenched open her door to yell, “I can’t stand being in this family. You’re all mental, and all you ever think about is yourselves.”

She’d disappeared back into her room before anyone could respond, not that anyone seemed inclined to, apart from Jenna. However, the moment passed, and by the time all the going-to-bed rituals were over she’d completely forgotten the outburst. All she seemed able to think about now, as she started downstairs to pour herself a drink, was how wonderful it would be to snuggle up in Jack’s arms and drift off to oblivion. It was just awful knowing it wasn’t going to happen, not only because he wasn’t inviting it, but because she wouldn’t go there even if he were. There was far too much tension between them again, and though she desperately didn’t want it to carry on like this, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to confront it tonight.

You’re just being cowardly,
she told herself sharply as she walked into the kitchen. Seeing how clean and tidy it was, she melted with love for her mother. A beat later she was racked with guilt for not showing her appreciation more. It was hard with her mother, though; she was always uncomfortable with compliments, and whenever Jenna did try to thank her she’d simply say, “Well, if I didn’t do it, I don’t know who would.”

The truth was Jenna didn’t either, because bringing up four children wasn’t easy. It was fun, of course, and wholly rewarding on levels she hadn’t even known existed until she became a mother. But the day-to-day challenges, the constant anguish over whether she’d forgotten something vital, the lurking fear that something terrible was going to befall one of them, the worry over her ability to show them an equal amount of love—all of these things could sap her energy at times to a point where she almost couldn’t take a step forward.

Was it any wonder she was unable to write?

Opening a bottle of wine, she filled two glasses.

Please don’t let Jack walk in and say he’s going out.

She wasn’t sure where he was; maybe he’d already gone.

Seeing lights in the office, she breathed a little easier, until she realized he was on the phone. When was he ever not on the phone? Who, if it wasn’t Martha, could he be speaking to so often and at such length?

If it was Martha…