The Deviants (22 page)

Rat Man. And how much she hated him.

It didn't take either of us long to work out that Rat Man was code. For Rittman.

‘Oh my God,' said Fallon, her hand to her mouth. ‘He did it to Jessica as well.'

‘You weren't to know.'

19

A Rather Splendid Party
Friday night, 21st August

I
couldn't stop feeling guilty, or wondering when it had happened. Was it at the same time as he was doing it to me? Or earlier? We didn't have time to look through all the journals, but what we saw gave us enough. The odd phrase leaped out at us like grasshoppers.

Praying he won't come in tonight.

Turn to stone when he touches me.

Rat Man hit me today. I wouldn't touch him down there.

My eyes couldn't look away, and my hands kept reaching for more journals. In a terrible, awful way, it made me feel better. I wasn't the only one. I wasn't the freak I'd always thought I was.

I hugged the yellow composition notebook to my chest as Fallon sat back down on the bed. ‘We have to tell Max.'

‘No,' I said. ‘No way.'

‘But this is… his dad's a…'

‘I know what his dad is. I know what this means. We say nothing.'

I thought she was going to shout, but her voice came out quieter than before. She pointed towards the door. ‘He hates my mum. His whole family hates her, because of what she
said at Jessica's inquest. She saw Jess step into the road in front of that bus. She wanted to die. And his dad's always denied it. This is
proof
, Ella.'

‘This is nothing,' I spat. ‘This proves nothing, and even if we did take it to the police, do you know what this would do to Max? It would be bad enough him finding out about me, but Jess too? No, we can't do anything.'

‘That's why she gave me her
Famous Five
books the last time I saw her,' said Fallon, staring hard at the bookcase. ‘She knew. She knew she was going to end it.'

I stood up off the stool and grabbed the other composition book Fallon was holding. ‘That's not true. We just need to put these back on the shelf and—'

‘NO! It is true! You know it, she was going to kill herself! She couldn't see any other way out! Ella, for God's sake!'

I glared, snatching the book back from her and waiting for a noise from outside.

Knock knock knock.
‘Are you decent?' It was Max. ‘Lasagne's ready.'

‘Uh, OK, two minutes,' I called back, as we scrabbled away the books quickly, the aroma of home-made lasagne and garlic bread wafting under the door.

‘We say nothing, OK? Nothing.'

Fallon helped me neaten the shelves and put the Quality Street tin back in the wardrobe. ‘My mum was right. All this time. That's why Jess stepped in front of that bus. She couldn't take any more. Maybe she found out what he'd done to you as well and she…'

‘If she found out what he did and she didn't say anything then I'm glad she's dead!'

I might as well have hit her across the face, from the look she gave me. I shoved on my trainers and walked to the door.

‘Come on.'

‘What if he's out there now, doing it to some other poor girl?'

‘He's not,' I said weakly.

‘How do you know that?' she sobbed. ‘You didn't know about Jessica. Poor Jessica. You said Shelby had two little sisters. What about them? What if he hurts my baby?'

‘Don't
ever
say that. Don't even think that. I won't let that happen.'

‘How can you stop it? You couldn't stop him doing it to you. How old were you when it started?' She had a snot trail and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to wipe it away, but I stopped her hand just in time.

‘No, you can't.'

‘We can't ignore this, Ella,' she said, cupping her nose. ‘I can't.'

‘If you say one word to him, I'll never speak to you again. I mean it.'

*

Max went to check the bedroom and make sure there was nothing out of place while we dished up. As far as Fallon and I were concerned, nothing was out of place, but over lunch he was definitely acting oddly. He was definitely fractious and all one-word answers. Corey didn't exactly help matters – he wouldn't stop crowing on about beating him at Call of Duty.

‘Literally pulverised him. Like, you just couldn't catch a break could you? I've never beaten anyone as easily as that.'

‘Yeah, stop going on and on about it,' Max spat. ‘Well done, champion of the world. You whooped my ass. Gimme a minute and I'll whittle you a trophy from my awe.'

‘Up for a rematch after lunch?' Corey grinned.

He shrugged. ‘If you like.' A little while later, his fork clattered to his plate and he got up. ‘I'm going out for a smoke.'

‘I only beat him by one game,' said Corey. ‘What can I say? I'm just gifted at digital warfare.'

‘I don't think it's that, Corey,' I told him. ‘I think he's just stressed at the moment.'

‘Why?'

My brain fumbled for an explanation. The best it came up with was ‘Oh just stuff.'

‘Fair enough,' he said, gobbling up the last of his garlic bread.

When Max came back in, out of nothing, Fallon asked him, ‘Did Jessica give you anything? Before she died?'

‘What?' he said, mid-chew.

‘She gave me her books, all her
Famous Five
books and a couple of
Secret Sevens
. Did she leave you with anything?'

‘Fallon, don't ask things like that,' I started to say, but Max cut in.

‘No, she didn't. Why do you ask?'

‘I just wondered,' said Fallon, and I knew she was carefully avoiding my stare.

‘She gave me something,' Corey piped up. ‘Her Time-Turner necklace. I treasure it. It's in my mini safe at home. Max, you can have it back if you want.'

‘No, no, it's fine,' said Max, a look of puzzled wonder on his face. ‘She gave you it the last time you saw her?'

Corey nodded, his mouth full of pasta.

‘She didn't give me anything,' I said, as though that would stop Max's thought train in its tracks. ‘Or you.'

‘No,' said Max, a little frown appearing above his searching eyes.

Thankfully, Corey changed the subject completely,
seemingly oblivious to the hideousness in the air above the dining table. ‘Hey, why don't we go down to the beach after lunch? It's nice and sunny now. We could…'

‘We have to go home,' said Fallon, who'd only eaten a quarter of her lasagne and none of her potato wedges. ‘Mum wants to see the baby before she goes out.'

Corey didn't hide his disappointment. It was like the cheeky little boy inside him had been shot dead by the responsible adult. ‘Yeah. We should go. I've got some ironing to do.'

‘You don't have to go straight away, do you?' I said, looking at Fallon, my eyes pleading for some sign that she wasn't going to tell anyone what we had found out.

‘I don't feel too well at all actually.' She semi-smiled, like she didn't want to worry us. ‘Mum said I've been overdoing it lately. I think I just need to take it easy this afternoon.'

‘You can take it easy here,' said Corey. ‘We were only going to hang out, we weren't going to climb Brynstan Hill again or anything.'

‘I just want to go home, Corey!' she said, standing up and throwing her napkin into her seat. And without another word, she marched out to the hallway to get their coats. Max paid for a taxi to take them back to Cloud.

‘Maybe we'll meet you tomorrow lunch at Subway or something?' said Corey, folding himself inside the taxi, completely oblivious to Fallon's mood. ‘Foot-long chicken and bacon ranch melts all round, on me.'

‘Yeah, said Max, closing the door behind. ‘Whatever. Text me later.'

The look Fallon gave me as the taxi drove away told me what I needed to know. We weren't going to see her tomorrow.

And the look Max gave me as we walked back inside told me we weren't right either.

*

I wore this dress for my older brother's wedding – a black satin fifties-style number with bronze flowers all over it. It was the only dress I had and the invite said to wear posh so I had to go with it. Half a ton of foundation, chemically straightened hair and a carefully hairsprayed fringe later, and I could pretend the girl in my dad's full-length mirror was someone half comfortable with wearing it, despite my miserable face. My body yearned to go back into my room and put my joggers on over my tights.

‘Hey, look at you!' said a voice. I hadn't heard Dad's footsteps on the stairs.

Tears pricked my eyes. ‘Yeah. Look at me.'

‘Don't often see you in a dress. You look wonderful.'

‘Despite my Avatar nose?' I said.

He'd swallowed my lamp-post story too. ‘Of course. But then, you
are
my daughter, so you carry the Newhall gene for good looks.' I smiled at his Dad-joke. ‘What's the occasion?'

‘Max's cousin Shelby's eighteenth at Michaelmas Manor,' I said, redoing some grips in my hair. ‘I don't want to go.'

‘No, you've never been one for parties, have you. You take after me. Much rather stay home, have a nice meal and watch a bit of telly.' He held out both his fists in front of me. I tapped the left one, and that bloody teddy bear necklace fell out of it onto my palm. ‘It's been through the wash, I'm afraid. Came out of your running trousers.'

‘Oh right, yeah. Thanks,' I said, chucking it on my dressing table.

‘Aren't you going to wear it?'

‘Not tonight.'

‘Everything all right with you and Max, is it?'

‘Yeah,' I mewled. Nothing was right. He wasn't texting me as much as he used to and though he hadn't said as much, I had a horrible feeling he knew what was in those notebooks.

‘Are Neil and Jo going as well?'

‘Yeah,' I said again, with a sigh. ‘His whole family are going. And a load of other people I've never even clapped eyes on.'

‘I saw Neil in The Wallflower at lunchtime.'

‘Oh?' Dad often ran into Neil at the pub when he was grabbing his pie and pint and a read of the paper on a Friday lunchtime. It was one of his ‘Dad routines', along with tea and toast at the Porthole Café on a Monday, and Tesco and a stroll along the front on a Sunday.

‘Yeah, Neil said he's so pleased with your progress in training, I think he'll be happy to sponsor you right the way through.'

‘Thrills,' I said, and Dad's eyebrows jumped. ‘I'm sorry, but I don't like the guy. I'll be polite, but don't expect me not to bitch behind his back. It's not going to happen.'

‘All right, all right. Do you want me to call and say you're not coming?' He put his arm around my shoulder and looked at us both in the mirror. I was a clear half a foot taller than him in heels – it almost made me happy about wearing them. ‘Perhaps you could stay home and help me chop the veg for my herb-crusted lamb cutlets with black olive and pine nut stuffing? And hey,
Foyle's War
's on later. A whole two hours of wartime sleuthing.'

‘No, you're all right,' I said. ‘Maybe it won't be so bad after all.'

He winked as he grabbed his glasses from his bedside table. ‘There you are, then.' He seemed happier than usual. I wondered if Celestina was coming round to gnaw on his cutlets.

I checked the contents of my bag, slipping the supersize bottle of Laxolot between the folds, like it was a gun and I was about to rob a bank. Not give one hundred and fifty people chronic diarrhoea.

At a quarter to seven, the Rittmans' shimmering black Porsche drew up outside, and I tottered downstairs to answer the door to Max who was wearing a tailored navy suit with brown brogues I hadn't seen him in before. Amazingly, it complemented the navy sheen in my dress. We looked perfect together. Like two pieces of a puzzle clicked into place. Appearances count for nothing sometimes.

‘You look gorgeous,' he said, coming up the path to greet me. He cupped my cheek, kissing my mouth. He smelled of too-strong woody aftershave.

‘What's that scent?'

‘Dunno. It's one of Dad's.'

‘It's vile.'

‘Thanks.'

Neil was sitting in the front passenger seat, and me and Jo were squished into the back seat, which was just a grey-leather ledge. If I'd been any taller, my head would have been through the back windscreen; as it was, I had to tilt it slightly.

‘Not an ideal family car, is it?' said Jo, fully penned in behind bunches of flowers, presents and cards.

I smiled non-committally. The music blasted out as Max switched on the ignition. ‘But then we're not the ideal family, are we?' I muttered under my breath.

Both Max and Neil wearing that disgustingly spicy aftershave was nauseating in the close confines of the Porsche. I noted the cream and black-wrapped birthday present resting on Jo's lap. She stroked the soft ribbon between her finger and thumb.

‘What did you get her?' I asked.

Jo was about to answer when Neil butted in. ‘Some of that Jo Malone smelly stuff. Candles and perfume, you know.' I waited. ‘Over three hundred quids' worth.'

‘Of course,' I muttered, pulling a crushed birthday card out from under my thigh.

Neil pulled down his visor and looked at me in his mirror. ‘What do you think of the wheels then? Ain't she a beauty? Rides like a dream. Top speed two hundred miles an hour.'

‘Shame you can't do more than thirty miles an hour round here, isn't it?' I could have sworn I'd seen a smile creep onto Jo's face as she turned to look out her window.

‘Ah, that's what
you
think,' said Neil. ‘We'll get on the back roads in a minute. Then we can open her up. Camera's turned off around there. Ain't that right, son?'