“There’s a woman over in Llanelli,” Bena was reading from the paper, “who’s only gone and left her body to medical science with the proviso that they use it to find a cure for cellulite. ‘It’s ruined my life,’ she said. ‘I want to stop others having to suffer the same way.’ ” She looked up to check that Jenna was listening. “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel grateful,” she commented dryly, “except it’ll be too late for me by the time they get round to it. Speaking personally, I’d want my body to be used to kill off the redhead gene. It’s a bloody pain in the neck being this color—all the teasing I had to go through at school, the deathly white skin, never being able to go in the sun. You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”
There was a beat before Jenna connected with the question. “I am,” she assured her, “and you’ve got lovely hair. Beautiful, in fact.” She meant it, for Bena’s cascade of golden waves was straight out of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. Her face was more Rubenesque, with prettily plump cheeks, large blue eyes, and a heart-shaped mouth, all of which combined to make her a strikingly attractive woman whom Jenna had grown very fond of.
Bena’s head was tilted to one side. “Are you all right, lovely?” she asked gently. “You don’t seem yourself today. Something bothering you, is it?”
Jenna forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “Just a bit of a headache.”
“Do you want me to get you something?”
“No, no, I’m sure it’ll go in a minute. How are you getting on with the short stories?”
“Well, I’ve more or less finished the copy-edits, just a couple more to go. Are we still waiting for payment to come through before sending the script back for final approval?”
“Yes, I think so. Jack’s more on top of that than I am.”
“OK. Where is he today? I thought we were going to start transferring stuff onto the website.”
“He’s with the designers sorting out a few last-minute glitches. Something to do with the e-commerce side of things, apparently.”
“Well, let’s hope they’re ready by the time we go live, or we’re going to have a lot of angry and frustrated writers on our hands. They’re getting impatient already, demanding to know when they’re going to see a return on their investment, as they seem to be putting it.”
Indeed, emails demanding an actual launch date were coming in all the time now, though Jenna was feeling less concerned about that this morning than about what was going on in her personal world. “Martha’s confident we’ll be able to start transferring by the end of the day,” she commented, clicking to a new screen without quite knowing why.
“That’s great. And Jack’s finalized the deal with Amazon to use the Kindle?”
“He’s seeing the lawyer today to sign off on it. The other e-readers are already in place.”
She presumed this was true. She hadn’t actually seen the contracts herself; however, since Martha was overseeing the business deals, she couldn’t imagine they’d be going ahead without all the vital components in place.
Trying harder to bolster Jenna’s spirits, Bena declared cheerily, “So when you go in front of the cameras to promote our launch you’ll be able to announce to the world that we’ll be trading—”
“Sorry, I’d better take this,” Jenna interrupted as her mobile rang. “It’s Jack.” Connecting to him, she turned in her chair as she said, “Hi, how’s it going?” There was little warmth in her voice, which she knew he wouldn’t miss.
“All good,” he replied coolly. “I’m just ringing to find out if you’ve sent any short stories yet. We haven’t received anything this end and we’re ready to run tests.”
Remembering she was supposed to have asked Bena, she said, “We’ll do it now. Were the twins and Josh all right when you dropped them off earlier?”
“I think so, no thanks to you.”
Angered by the accusation, she snapped, “Don’t you dare put all this on me.”
“But you’re the one getting worked up over nothing.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call the way you’ve been carrying on—” Remembering Bena, she cut herself off. “I’m not getting into this now,” she told him. Clicking off the line, she put a hand to her head.
“Oh dear,” Bena murmured. “That didn’t sound good.”
“It’s not,” Jenna admitted. “In fact, it’s so bloody far from good I hardly know what it is.”
Bena watched her worriedly. “I’m not going to pry, but if you want to talk…”
Jenna shook her head. “Thanks, but we’ve got a lot to do and I don’t think talking’s going to help much. He wants us to email some short stories. Can you do that? I think I’ll go and get something for this headache.”
A few minutes later she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror staring at her tired, pasty face and wishing she knew what the hell to do. Jack still hadn’t told her where he’d had to “pop out” to on Saturday during the game. He wouldn’t even engage in a conversation about it other than to say, “You’re determined to think the worst, so you go right ahead and do that.”
“Then tell me what I’m supposed to think,” she’d demanded furiously.
“No way am I satisfying your paranoia by defending myself.”
“If you’ve got nothing to hide, I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to tell me where you were.”
“You’re making it difficult. In fact, you’re making it downright impossible. Now, I’m through with this conversation. If you want to go on tormenting yourself with the stories you make up, that’s up to you. Just don’t lay them on me.”
As he’d stormed out of the bedroom he’d almost fallen over Josh and the twins, who’d been pressed up against the door listening. The sight of their troubled faces had been enough to stop Jenna going after him, but luckily he hadn’t left the house; he had simply gone downstairs and helped himself to a beer from the fridge.
For the rest of Saturday evening they’d managed to put on a front for the children, eating together, watching TV, reading bedtime stories, after which he’d gone over to the office to do some work while she’d helped Paige with her rehearsal of Under Milk Wood. At least that had been fun, making them laugh, and bringing them closer together than they’d seemed for a while. How proud her father would have been if he’d known Paige was playing First Voice. How proud she was.
Sunday had been no easier with Jack, although they’d seen little of each other, as he’d taken the boys to the leisure center for most of the day, while she and Flora had been in charge of a friend’s jewelry stall at a local craft fair. Paige had gone to Charlotte’s and stayed overnight, so Jenna hadn’t actually seen her since Sunday morning. In a way it had been a relief not having her around while things were tense with Jack; fooling the younger children into thinking everything was OK wasn’t nearly as hard as fooling Paige.
She’d blown it earlier, though, before he’d taken Josh and the twins to school. She simply hadn’t been able to stand watching him laughing and joking with them as if nothing was wrong, when as far as she was concerned nothing was right.
“Are you planning on doing a disappearing act again today?” she’d demanded as he’d checked for his keys and phone.
His eyes had immediately turned flinty.
“Is that like a magician does?” Wills demanded excitedly. “I didn’t know you could do that, Dad.”
“It would appear that Mum thinks I do a lot of things I’m not actually capable of,” Jack had responded, staring at her hard.
“Dad goes places without telling anyone where he is,” Jenna had informed them. “I’d call that sneaky, not magic.”
“For God’s sake,” he’d muttered.
“Don’t ‘for God’s sake’ me! I’ve had enough of your—”
“Mum! Don’t shout,” Flora cried, blocking her ears.
“It’s all right,” Jenna soothed, going to comfort her.
“Mum?” Josh whispered.
“Everything’s fine,” she assured him and an anxious-looking Wills. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’m sorry,” she said to Jack for their benefit, certainly not his.
“It’s OK,” he replied, “it’s all better now,” and after dishing out the lunch boxes they’d helped prepare, he told them to find their satchels and coats and be in the car by the time he’d counted to twenty.
He’d left without as much as a goodbye—no kiss, no see you later or I’ll call. He’d just picked up his briefcase, gone for his coat, and walked out the door. Goddamn him, he was behaving as though she was in the wrong, and she couldn’t be sure whether it was that or his continued refusal to explain himself that was making her angrier than ever.
After taking a couple of aspirin, she resisted the urge to call him again, and returned to the office.
“Feeling better?” Bena asked gently.
Jenna nodded, sighed, and shook her head. The words began tumbling out almost before she realized she was speaking them. “I think Jack’s having an affair,” she stated, and immediately regretted it. It was as though voicing her fear was lending it power, somehow turning it into a truth that she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear.
Bena’s eyes rounded with shock. “I’m sure you’re wrong,” she declared, sounding as certain as Jenna had hoped she might.
Their eyes met, and Jenna looked away.
“What’s making you think it?” Bena probed gently.
Taking a shaky breath, Jenna told her about the lengthy phone calls, the disappearances, the refusal to say where he’d been on Saturday. The more she listened to herself the more convinced she was becoming. “It’s been there, staring me in the face for I don’t know how long,” she said brokenly, “and because I trusted him, because I thought he loved me and that he’d never…” Dread cut off her words.
“He does love you,” Bena assured her. “If I’m sure about anything, it’s that.”
Jenna regarded her helplessly. “You haven’t suspected it?” she asked, desperate to hear Bena say that she hadn’t.
Bena shook her head. “I mean, he’s a flirt and a bit of a charmer, but everyone knows that and no one takes it seriously. It’s just a harmless bit of fun—” She broke off as Jenna’s eyes went down. “Who do you think he’s having an affair with?” Bena ventured.
Jenna swallowed. “I—um…It could be Judy Ritch.”
Bena’s jaw dropped in astonishment.
“He admitted he was with her on Friday night, down at the pub,” Jenna told her. “He came back reeking of perfume. He even admitted it was hers.”
Bena was shaking her head.
“I understand that you want to defend him,” Jenna said, “and I appreciate it, really I do, but it’s hard to think anything else after the way he’s behaved. He’s angry with me now for catching him out, that’s what’s going on, although he thinks I can’t see it.”
“Sweetie, he’s not seeing Judy Ritch,” Bena told her carefully, “or let’s say he certainly wasn’t with her on Friday night, because I was at the pub myself and I didn’t see him. She was there, but he wasn’t.”
Jenna’s heart turned over as she looked at her friend. “But if he wasn’t…Why would he say he was there when he knows I’d be bound to find out he wasn’t?”
Bena had no answer for that.
“He wants me to find out,” Jenna said shakily.
Looking almost as wretched as Jenna felt, Bena said, “Have you actually asked him if he’s having an affair?”
“Not in so many words, but he knows it’s what I’m thinking. He keeps saying I’m paranoid, or telling myself stories, but the one thing he’s not doing is denying it.”
“Then you have to ask him straight out. I know it won’t be easy, but until you do you’re going to keep putting yourself through this, and there might not be any need.”
Though she could feel herself recoiling from the confrontation, Jenna knew Bena was right. She had to make herself face it, somehow deal with it if it was true, yet how was she going to do that if he was serious about whoever it was and wanted out of their marriage?
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Charlotte was gasping excitedly as she checked her phone. “We’re in! She can see us at five on Friday.”
“No way,” Paige cried, a bolt of nerves shooting like splinters through her own excitement.
“I swear, look.” Charlotte passed over her mobile. Appointment for 2 people confirmed for 5 pm on Friday. Thank you for your enquiry. Jasmina is looking forward to meeting you. Please see our website for further information and directions.
They looked at each other, round-eyed with awe, and burst into girlish laughter. “We have to do it,” Charlotte insisted.
“Definitely,” Paige agreed. “I mean, she won’t tell us anything bad, will she?”
“I don’t think they’re allowed to. My cousin said she was brilliant. Told her loads of things that were true that she couldn’t possibly have known.”
Hearing the bus doors hiss open, Paige led the way on board, choosing two seats close to the front. Kelly Durham and her gang would be bound to sit at the back, but they had to pass Paige on the way, so Paige kept her head averted and nudged Charlotte about the fortune-teller, trying to make it look as though she hadn’t even noticed the Durmites were passing.
“It’s going to be totally amazing,” she whispered to Charlotte.
“I know, I know,” Charlotte whispered back. “She might tell us if we’re going to get married, how many babies we’ll have, how many husbands even.”
Kelly’s voice cut across their giggles. “Oh my God, it’s laughing. Please someone tell it not to—it only makes it look even uglier.”
As the Durmites snorted and guffawed, Paige’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
“Oh, get her with the filthy looks,” Kelly mocked as Charlotte treated her to daggers. To Paige’s relief she moved on through to the back.
“Well, we know now,” Paige commented as Owen followed the Durmites without as much as a glance in her and Charlotte’s direction, “who managed to convince him that it was me who put that post on Facebook.”
Casting another of her vicious looks in Owen’s direction, Charlotte said, “I should have realized on Saturday, when he told me he knew for a fact that you’d done it, that Kelly bloody Durham had got to him.”
“You know what really gets me?” Paige declared, trying not to be upset. “It’s that he could never stand her before.”
“I know, and I’d love to see her face if she heard some of the things he said about her.”
Paige would too, though she knew neither she nor Charlotte would ever repeat them. She didn’t imagine Hayley, Courtenay, or Nicole would either, though not out of loyalty to her, but because they too seemed to be getting friendlier with Kelly lately. It was unnerving Paige considerably, the way the Durmites were drawing in all her friends, though she couldn’t imagine they’d ever succeed with Charlotte. She and Charlotte were solid; nothing and no one was going to come between them.
Hearing a text ping into her phone, she decided not to read it. It would only be something vile from Kelly again, such as:
Faggot basher.
Homophobe.
Two-faced bitch.
Sad fucking loser.
Ugly fat cow.
These were only some of the names she’d been called by text or email over the past twenty-four hours, and not only by Kelly Durham but by Owen and others too. Though she was putting a brave face on it, determined that no one should think they were getting to her, each text that arrived upset her more than the last. Worst of all were the messages that said things like, You’re just a fucking nobody with no right to live, so why don’t you do the world a favor and die? Or It’s no wonder your family can’t stand you, no one can. Or You make everyone feel totally sick the way you think you’re so much better than everyone else. Filthy swot! Teacher’s brown-noser.
“Oh my God,” Charlotte suddenly gasped as a text dropped into her phone. “I don’t believe this. Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”
Paige took her mobile and read the message. Hey you, going to send me a Snapchat? Liam LOL
.
Paige turned to look at her, envious and confused. “Why ‘laugh out loud’?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Do you think he’s taking the piss? Maybe it’s not even him.”
Paige looked at the text again.
“Shall I answer it?” Charlotte ventured.
Paige was trying to make up her mind. “I know,” she decided, “ask him to send you one first.”
Charlotte lit up. “Genius.”
A few moments later, as Miss Kendrick, a stocky yet glamorous young woman, joined the bus, a shot of Liam blowing a kiss appeared on Charlotte’s phone.
Charlotte looked like she might pass out. “Oh my God. It is him,” she murmured. “I am so going to shag him.”
“Phones away now,” Miss Kendrick instructed, “and take out your copies of Under Milk Wood. We’ll have a rehearsal during the journey.”
“Oh no!” Charlotte panic-whispered. “I have to Snapchat him back.”
“Do it when we get there,” Paige advised. “We can go into the loo or something.”
Since the alternative was having her phone confiscated, Charlotte managed a quick In bad situation, more later Cxxx before switching it to silent.
As Miss Kendrick gave the driver the go-ahead to start the fifteen-minute trip into Swansea, Paige stared fixedly out of the window, willing her teacher to pick on anyone but her to lead the rehearsal. She might as well have kept her telepathic energies to herself, because they’d gone no more than half a mile before the microphone was being thrust into her hand and Miss Kendrick was saying, “Get us in the mood with the opening lines, Paige. Go up to ‘Schooner House dreams of.’ Then we’ll have a little discussion on the syntax. I take it we all know what syntax means? Ruby, can you tell us?”
“Uh, it’s kind of like grammar, miss.”
Miss Kendrick sighed. “I suppose that’ll do for now. Paige, off you go.”
Trying not to think of the others pulling faces and gagging behind her, Paige steeled herself and started, very quietly, “To begin at the beginning: It is spring, moonless—”
“Speak up, we can’t hear,” someone shouted from the back.
“It’s meant to be spoken softly,” Miss Kendrick reminded them, “but perhaps you could give it a little more volume, Paige.”
Wanting only to thrust the mic back at the teacher and tell her to get someone else to do it, Paige forced herself to start again. This time she got as far as “blind as Captain Cat,” when a small chorus of voices began howling and meowing.
“That’s enough,” Miss Kendrick snapped. “Whoever’s responsible, put your hand up.”
No one did.
She waited, eyes shining with outrage. She adored Dylan Thomas—practically wet herself over him, Cullum had once said—so to treat his work to this kind of mockery would be seen as nothing short of a capital offense.
“I don’t know who was making the noise, miss,” Kelly Durham piped up sweetly, “but it’s not the play that’s the problem, it’s Paige’s voice. It’s making people want to howl—you know, like dogs do when they hear music that’s out of tune.”
As the others laughed and Paige flushed to the roots of her hair, Miss Kendrick said to Kelly, “For such an inane and unpleasant remark, you have just earned yourself a report. Now kindly keep quiet, everyone, while Paige finishes the opening.”
Somehow Paige got through it, mainly because she managed, by some miracle, to lose herself in the words, as though she were in the dawn hours of Llareggub rather than trapped amongst enemies on the school bus.
“Miss?” a boy’s voice called out from just behind her. “Did you know that Llareggub, the name of the town, is ‘bugger all’ spelled backward?”
As everyone snickered, Miss Kendrick rolled her eyes. “Do you have to tell us that every time we read the play, Michael?”
Clearly proud to have got away with swearing again, Michael Preddy stood up and took a bow.
“I think Paige ought to carry on reading,” Bethany Gates called out.
“Yeah, definitely,” Kelly Durham agreed. “All the voices this time.”
“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.