Alex is home before me, eyes red and swollen as she sits at the kitchen table with her hands wrapped around a coffee cup. I called her earlier, took her through the worst of it, and I wasn’t expecting to find her in this sort of distress.
“What’s wrong?”
I sit down and put my hand on her arm, but she clings to the cup.
“It’s everything, Lou. It’s too much. If it was just you and me … but Katie…”
“What’s happened to Katie?” I ask as panic rips through me.
Since the Highfield gala fiasco, Katie has lived in her room, leaving only to go to school. She’s quit swimming, won’t talk about it and the whole house seems to simmer with silent resentment.
“The same as what’s happened to all of us. Some prick found her Instagram and was sending her abuse until she got up the nerve to show me.”
The guilt weighs on me, heavy and cold as wet clothes.
“Oh fuck,” I say, putting both hands to my face. “Was it bad?”
“It was mostly about you. You know … ‘liar,’ ‘devil’s spawn,’ and other incoherent shite like that. I deleted it and blocked him straight away.”
“Why didn’t Katie do that?”
“Because she was scared. She’s fourteen, Lou. She shouldn’t be dealing with any of this in the first place.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ll set her account to private.”
“Yeah, I’ve already done that. Mine too. I’ve locked down every account I can think of and I’ve updated her parental-control app.”
I let out a sigh of relief, that at least no one will get to them that way.
“But I noticed something else,” says Alex. “Some boy commenting on all her photos. Did you see that?”
“No,” I say anxiously. “I’m not allowed to follow her. I mean, I look now and again, but I don’t remember anything in particular. What was he saying?”
“Nothing more than the rest of them, you know, how beautiful and hot she looked. It’s just that he was on every post I looked at and she’d liked all his comments. I probably wouldn’t think anything of it except for…”
“The photos? Oh Jesus.” I put my elbows on the table, head in my hands. “I’ll have a word with her.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” asks Alex.
“I won’t mention them directly, but I need her to know I’m here for her. Not just because of that, but with everything else going on…”
My voice cracks and the tears flow until Alex can’t help but wrap her arms around me and I bury my face in the familiar warmth of her.
“We’ll get through it,” she says. “She’ll be OK.”
It’s only when I start up the stairs to Katie that I remember I never mentioned work, the annual leave that has already begun. I can’t put Alex through any more today; I’ll do it tomorrow.
TAYLOR SWIFT SETS THE TONE upstairs, the dark, sultry vocal of “Don’t Blame Me,” and I’m hoping it will have Katie in a receptive mood. I knock on her bedroom door and when there’s no reply I push it open and she sits bolt upright on the bed.
“Can I come in?”
She shrugs and stops the music and, in the stark silence, I see my little girl so vulnerable and exposed. I say nothing about the dirty plates on her desk, the row of cups and glasses on the windowsill. I sit on the edge of the bed and smile, but she makes no effort to return it.
“Alex told me about the messages,” I say. “I’m so sorry, Katie. I didn’t want any of this to happen, especially not to you.”
Katie’s eyes flick back and forth to her phone, still clasped between both hands.
“You know none of it is true?” I say. “It’s just people on the internet looking for a fight. Although why they want to pick one with a teenager, god only knows.”
Katie opens her mouth, a quiver in her lip when the words don’t come.
“Go on,” I say. “What were you going to say?”
“The court case,” she says quietly. “I believe him. He wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true.”
“Ah Katie,” I say as I blink back tears, “you’re more generous and perceptive than people several times your age. That means a lot to me, it really does.”
“But the other case…”
She stops and I daren’t take a breath.
“… why are people still going on about it?”
My chest tightens and I suck hard at the air around me.
“Are you getting messages about that?”
“I dunno.”
“Oh my god,” I say. “Was that on your Instagram?”
“Yeah.”
She glances at her phone and I resist the urge to grab it from her.
“And it’s locked now?”
“Yeah.”
“OK,” I say, and I know I need to choose my next words carefully. “Do you want to share any of it?”
“He said…” She can’t look at me. “He said you should still be locked up.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
Katie recoils at the force of my words and I wish I could snatch them back.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing my temples. “It’s not fair that you have to deal with this. If there was anything more I could do to stop it, I would. But I want you to know that I’m here for you, OK? If anyone upsets you or bothers you, I need you to know that you can come to me any time.”
She just stares at me in that way that gives nothing away.
“And there’s something else I wanted to say to you. It’s not just abuse you need to watch out for. You have to be just as vigilant about strangers being nice to you. If you don’t know someone in real life, don’t interact with them online, and never give out any personal information, OK?”
Katie takes a breath, as if she’s about to speak, and then hesitates.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing, just, eh … can I go to the cinema with Alice and Bella on Saturday?”
“Of course you can, love.”
I smile and squeeze her hand and pray this is the start of better times for Katie. God knows, she deserves it.
AFTER DINNER, I GO STRAIGHT to bed, and I’m plugging my phone into the wall socket when an email alert pops up. It’s Liam Kelly. I click through with shaking hands and his message fills the screen.
This lawsuit will destroy Shauna’s life. If you don’t withdraw your testimony, I will have no choice but to send proof of what really happened that night to your family and to Highfield’s defense team. I trust you will find it in your heart to do the right thing for Shauna and for yourself.
I fall back onto the bed, fists and chest tight with the shock. This was never about protecting Corrigan or McQueen. It’s all about her. A woman who has been able to live a privileged life while I have struggled to contain a brutal truth. It’s not that I want Shauna to suffer too, but it’s Josh’s life at stake now, as well as my own. I need to track her down, even if I have to tail Ronan for a week. I grab my phone and try every search engine, every term I can think of, in the faint hope that the drama of the past week has forged some new leads. But there is nothing, only tears of frustration that blur my vision.
I turn to Carol, the Facebook page that gives up little in recent years, just some photos of last year’s thirty-year school reunion. It’s only now that I remember the email invitation, the one that just might have Shauna’s email address attached. At the time, I didn’t even look at it, assuming it was a cruel joke that someone had added me to the list. I find it in my inbox and click it open.
The Highfield Manor Alumni Association invites the Class of ’87 to a drinks reception at the school followed by dinner at Patrick Guilbaud’s on Saturday the 23rd of September.
I jump straight to the address field, but there is only a list, not individual email addresses. I’m numb with the let-down as I scroll through the replies, trying to fit names to the faces that are hidden in memory. When I get to a message from Melissa, I stop and hover over her name. We never stayed in touch and I have to admit I always resented her success, the ease with which she put everything behind her. In fact, I can’t help thinking she enjoyed the notoriety of it all, that it drove her to chase a career in the spotlight. I push through my jealousy and open her email.
Dear lovely Highfield ladies,
You know there’s nothing I’d love more than a good old natter with my favorite convent girls. I’m afraid I’ll be recording Ultimate Idol in London that evening so I will have to miss the big bash. I trust you will find it in your hearts to forgive me and I hope to see you next time.
Hugs and kisses,
Melissa
My pulse quickens and I read it again.
I trust you will find it in your hearts …
I click back into Liam Kelly’s message and stare at that line until it all starts to make sense. Then I open a new email and copy across the address from Melissa’s reply.
Subject: We need to talk.