0345549538 (38 page)

“Not until you tell me—”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re not running this house, or me, or the children, so mind your own business and get on with your own life.”

“Jenna, you’re sounding strange even to me, so what’s going on? Have you taken something?”

Sighing, she said, “I got some tranquilizers from the doctor….”

“Why? What kind of tranquilizers?”

“They’re helping to take the edge off things, and I don’t need to explain myself to you, so just do as I ask and get off the line.”

“Where are the children? I hope you’re not going to be driving anywhere—”

“I’m not,” she said, and rang off.

A few minutes later he sent a text.
Make sure Paige is all right and don’t freak her out any more than you already have.

Letting her head fall back against the pillows, Jenna closed her eyes. She’d go to see Paige in a minute; she just needed to have a little nap first and then everything would be all right.

It was the night of Cullum and Oliver’s party. Paige was in her room waiting for Julie to come back online so they could carry on chatting. It had been a really terrible week at school, one of the worst so far, but at least the Durmites hadn’t shoved her head down the toilet again. Instead they were doing stuff like creeping up behind her and pulling her hair so hard it made her scream, or tripping her up with a push that made sure she went down, or snatching her bag and emptying it on the ground, sometimes in puddles, before sauntering off. The texts and postings were every bit as bad—morning, noon, and night, they hardly stopped—and the whole world had seen the fake nude picture of her now. It was making her want to stay curled up in her room and never come out rather than have to face the way people were smirking and wolf-whistling as she went past, as if the photo were real when everyone surely knew it wasn’t.

The ugliness had continued throughout today, in spite of it being Saturday, with the Durmites posting how relieved they were that she wasn’t going to be at the party stinking the place out and spreading her STDs.

She takes getting pissed to a whole new level,
one of them had commented.
She actually drinks the real stuff. Ask her, she can’t deny it.

So loads of people had asked, but she hadn’t answered. She’d simply watched it all unfold and kept wondering why they wouldn’t just leave her alone.

“Paige, do you want to come and watch a film with us?” her mother called through the door.

“No thanks,” Paige replied.

“What are you doing in there?”

“Reviewing.”

“We’ve hardly seen you today.”

“I’ve got a lot to do.”

“You should take a break.”

“I will, tomorrow.”

As she heard Jenna walking away she went to open the door. “Are you all right?” she asked when her mother turned round. She wasn’t, that much was plain just from looking at her.

“I’m fine,” Jenna replied. “Are you?”

Paige nodded. “I might come down in a minute,” she said. “I’ve got to finish something first.”

Jenna smiled hesitantly.

Back in her room Paige tried not to think about the way her mother was falling apart. She kept telling herself that this bad spell wouldn’t last, she’d pull out of it soon, but it didn’t seem to be happening. She just thanked God Grandma was around to keep an eye on things, so it wasn’t all being left to her, although it didn’t seem very fair on Grandma either, when she was going to be seventy next year.

Deciding she had to do her best to help out more with Josh and the twins and be a bit nicer to her mum than she had been lately, she returned to her laptop to find a message from Julie.

Are you still there?

Still here.

Sorry I had to duck out. Anyway, I was saying before, I think it’s totally gross all the stuff they were saying about your dad. Everyone does. They definitely went too far this time. You were right to go to Miss K.

Paige hated even thinking about those posts. She still felt so repulsed by them that she never wanted to see her dad again.
Let’s change the subject.

Sure. Sorry.

You said it got worse after you reported them. That’s definitely happening to me.

Yes, I heard what they did in the girls’ toilets the other day. It’s what they did to me.

What happened after that?

I can’t really remember now. I don’t like thinking about it.

It would just be good to know what to expect.

I wouldn’t worry about it, it’ll probably be different for you, anyway. Where are you now?

At home in my room.

Were you invited to the party at Cullum’s?

No, not really. Were you?

Yes, but I couldn’t go.

Why?

Long story—my dad’s a bit of a control freak and he doesn’t really believe in parties. How are things with your dad?

Terrible. My mum’s taking it really hard now, I hardly know what to say to her.

So sad. Really sorry to hear that.

Thank you. I wish we could meet up.

We definitely will. Once the Durmites have moved on and left you alone. Sorry to be a wimp about it, but I just don’t want to remind them I’m around. So, do you think your parents will get back together?

I don’t know. I wish they would.

If you had a dad like mine you’d be glad he was gone.

Is he really that bad?

Sometimes.

Not wanting to stay on the subject of dads, Paige said,
Do you wish you were at the party?

Definitely. Do you?

Sort of. I mean, yes, but you saw the stuff they posted on Cullum’s brother’s wall, you know, the photos of me and everything. I wouldn’t want to face him.

Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that. BTW I can see why you like him.

I don’t.

It’s OK, you don’t have to hide it from me. I mean, who wouldn’t fancy someone like him? He’s totally drop-dead. No way is that Lindsay French good enough for him, but don’t tell anyone I said that.

She’s very pretty.

Not as pretty as you. That’s why the Durmites are always picking on you, because they’re jealous of your looks and how brainy you are.

No way am I either of those things. Is it why they picked on you, because you’re brainy and pretty?

Ha ha! They just saw me as a typical victim, which I suppose I am in a way. I’m only brave when I’m behind a computer, in case you hadn’t noticed.

I think that’s sad.

So do I, but you have to admit it’s a lot easier to say things like this than it is face-to-face.

I guess, sometimes.

Checking her phone as it bleeped with a text, Paige saw it was from Charlotte and quickly clicked on.
Amazing news! Sit down before you read! Oliver and Lindsay about to break up! Liam told me, so def true! Reckon your luck is changing. Cxxx

Feeling a rush of elation, Paige quickly sent a message back.
How’s it going with Liam?

Will tell you everything tomorrow, but reckon it’s def going to happen tonight!
xxx

Have you gone?
Julie was asking.

Paige was about to say she hadn’t, but then suddenly decided that she’d had enough for tonight. She only wanted to think about Oliver now, and she was going to do that downstairs, cuddled up in front of a movie with her mum and the others.

—

Hearing Paige going downstairs, Jenna tried to force herself up from the bed, but decided to rest for a few more minutes. Although she’d stopped taking the tranquilizers after her first unsuccessful trial, the only time she seemed able to summon any energy lately was when she argued with Jack. It was as though flames came out of her then, huge angry bursts of bitterness and frustration, but that was happening less and less as time passed, mainly because he’d stopped coming in when he brought the children home.

The writers’ investments were being refunded, so that problem at least was going away. True to her word, Martha had advanced the money, and Bena was working closely with Richard to make sure that every last penny of the fraudulent charges was returned to the victims. Bena had even drafted the letter of apology to accompany the checks, which Richard had approved and Jenna had signed. Jack wasn’t involving himself in the resolution at all, only in transferring the funds, though Richard was sending him copies of everything and Bena was taking much delight in forwarding disgruntled and even threatening emails to his new account.

“Let him deal with the blowback,” she declared, pushing send triumphantly as she forwarded yet another email. “If this mightily pissed-off Taffy with his marvelous gift for invective doesn’t spoil his day, then I’m sure we’ll be able to follow it up with an even more devastating tirade from someone who can.”

Jack and Martha were a couple about town now, having been photographed coming and going from two different functions this week, though the local press weren’t kind to them. No one, it seemed, had respect for a man who’d abandon a wife and four children, nor did they approve of the woman who’d lured him away. Whether the negative publicity was having any effect on them or on Martha’s business, only they knew, but it had elicited a great deal of sympathy for Jenna. She was receiving no end of phone calls from people she hardly knew asking if they could do anything to help, or inviting her for coffee, or lunch, or simply a walk on the beach if she felt like getting out for a while.

In fact, she only went out now to ferry the children around or to exercise Waffle. With spring under way, part of the beach at Port Eynon had been closed to dogs, so she’d taken to driving him over to Oxwich, where she was less likely to run into someone she knew. However, Waffle was much given to making friends, which he promptly did with another retriever, who turned out to be Richard’s dog, Jasper. Apparently the beach over at Caswell was also a dog-free zone until after the summer, so Richard too had taken to driving to Oxwich—though Jenna had to admit to being surprised to find him there at ten-thirty on a Thursday morning. It was, he’d explained, the anniversary of his wife’s death, so he’d decided not to go into the office that day.

They’d ended up walking together as the dogs chased each other in and out of the waves and the wind swept gently over the dunes. He’d talked openly and tenderly about the woman he still missed every day, and her struggle with the cancer that had finally claimed her. He’d told her about his sons and how proud he was of them, when he wasn’t exasperated or worried or wondering what the heck one or the other of them would get up to next. For Jenna it was a relief not to have to talk about anything; she simply listened to the details of someone else’s life and felt for his loss while admiring how he was getting through it. Though she wasn’t proud of it, she couldn’t stop herself wishing Jack had died; at least then her memories would be intact and she wouldn’t constantly have to be dealing with the engulfing cruelty of rejection. There were even times, usually during the darkest, bleakest hours of the night, when she fantasized about killing him, or Martha, or both. It happened in these situations—the courts were full of such cases—and she could completely understand why.