54

Billy and Ken Strudwick are staring down at a card. There’s a picture of a quad bike with huge inflated grey tyres and, on it, a smiling girl in pigtails leans forward, grabbing the handlebars. Next to her is an empty wheelchair. Across the top, a caption in loopy red writing reads: Dunes for the Disabled – Book your trip today for a sand-sational experience!

The two of them trade looks of wonder, like kids at Christmas.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ says Ken, slightly breathless, his eyes glistening.

‘Yes would be good,’ he laughs.

‘Of course it’s a yes. Simon, this is fantastic. Thank you so much.’

‘It’s my pleasure. I’ve been meaning to do it for ages. I know you don’t get out much. The guy that runs it owes me a favour and I just thought you might enjoy it.’

‘It’s just about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t believe you’d think of us at a time like this.’

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about and he must be wearing his confusion, as Ken explains.

‘We heard about your wife, Jackie. It sounds terrible. Terrifying that someone should break into your home and do that to her.’

‘Yes, it is. She’s in quite a bad way.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’

He seems genuinely upset which is strange as he’s never met Jackie.

‘Thank you. Working takes my mind off things.’ But he hasn’t come here to talk about Jackie. ‘I’ve booked the quad bike for 12.15 tomorrow. It’s the only slot they had. It’s very busy this time of year. I thought Billy could take himself off to Breakneck Point for a walk or something while you’re whizzing up and down the beach on your moon buggy.’

They swap laughs at the image.

‘That sounds great,’ says Billy.

‘But it’s really popular. If you don’t turn up bang on time, you’ll lose your spot.’

‘OK, no problem. What time do we need to be there?’

‘Twelve for the safety talk and then it starts at 12.15. You’ll be back at 2 p.m.’

‘I can’t wait. It sounds perfect, doesn’t it, Billy?’

His excitement rubs off on Billy who gives him his widest grin. It’ll be one of his last. In a few days, Billy will be facing a murder charge and his dad will be on his own. They shouldn’t be so gullible.

‘Yeah, it does, Dad.’

‘But there is just one more thing.’

His seriousness dampens their cheerfulness.

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I’m not really meant to give gifts to patients. It’s against the rules so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this. I could lose my job over it.’

Ken rolls his eyes like this is just one more thing to add to the list of things proving the craziness of this world.

‘What have we become if we can’t show each other a bit of kindness?’

‘I know, but those are the rules. What’s the saying? I don’t make them, I just break them.’

Ken laughs.

‘Well, thank the Lord for that. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Wild horses won’t be able to drag it out of me.’

‘Hopefully, it won’t come to that.’ More laughter. ‘Great, well, I’ve got to get going. Have a good time tomorrow. Remember, don’t be late. No need to see me out, Billy.’

Passing through the hall, he grabs a tie hanging on the coat rack on the wall and shoves it into his pocket. Sometimes, this is just too easy.

* * *

The phone has powered up by the time I reach our bench at Breakneck Point. It didn’t take long to find it, taped to the underside of Megan’s wooden bed frame. The battery was dead and, still agitated by my encounter with Jay, I couldn’t bear pacing the cabin waiting for it to flicker back to life so I connected it to a charging pack and headed out to the coast.

There’s no password. There doesn’t need to be. As far as Megan’s concerned, I don’t even know this phone exists. I tap the Instagram icon on the home screen; her username is TwilightSparkle, apparently, which was the name of her favourite My Little Pony character when she was a little girl.

As her timeline flicks into view, a sick feeling masses in the pit of my stomach. What else don’t I know about Megan’s life?

Her inbox is filled with messages from Jay. They begin smugly discussing how much easier it is to talk now she has a secret phone. I curse the boy under my breath, but my mood softens as their conversations unfurl.

Jay talks of how he misses his mother who died of a heroin overdose when he was twelve. His dad is due out of prison, but Jay wants nothing to do with him as he got his mum hooked on heroin and it is his fault she’s dead. He hates the bastard, but he hates himself more for being like him and he’s considered ending his sorry life more than once.

Megan shows a compassion I didn’t know she had, telling him he doesn’t have to be defined by his parents’ behaviour. He can take a different route. Her words encourage, cajole and even threaten him to stay alive, to get himself clean and to make his mum proud of him. Megan is Jay’s lifeline. That’s why he gave her the phone. She kept him alive. I’m bursting with pride for my incredible daughter, and shame for writing Jay off as drug-dealing scum.

I carry on searching her messages and am beginning to give up hope when a name pops up: Ruggerboy666. Rugger is a slang term for rugby. It’s quite old-fashioned. Do teenage boys use words like rugger any more? I don’t think so. It’s Pascoe. I know it is and I can almost sense his breath on my neck as I read his words.

Ruggerboy666: Hi. How’s it going?

Its feigned lightness turns my stomach. I can hardly bear to read on, but I must.

TwilightSparkle: Do I know you?

Ruggerboy666: Yeah. We’re at school together but can’t tell you my name. It’s complicated.

TwilightSparkle: Yeah, right. Go away or I’ll report you.

Ruggerboy666: OK. I was pretty cut up when you hurt yourself at school. Realized then how much I liked you.

TwilightSparkle: Who is this?

Ruggerboy666: Can’t say. Soz.

TwilightSparkle: Why not?

Ruggerboy666: Because I’m seeing someone else at the moment. Trying to break it off with her, but she’s going through some stuff. Don’t wanna make it worse. Can we just hang out here?

TwilightSparkle: OK. Guess there’s no harm in it.

Oh Megan. It’s so obvious he’s playing you. How can you not see it?

Ruggerboy666: Thanks, but don’t tell your mates. In case it gets back to her.

The conversation ends but picks up again a few days later.

Ruggerboy666: Hi. How’s it going? Just had the biggest row with my mum. Moaning at me for not doing my homework. Who d’you have for maths? I’ve got Mr Blakewell. He’s a total psycho.

Clever. Dropping a teacher’s name into the conversation. It wouldn’t have taken much to find out who works at the school – a quick check of the school website would do it – but it’s enough to persuade Megan he is who he says he is.

TwilightSparkle: Ha! Ha! Yeah, I know. I had him last year. How’s your girlfriend?

Ruggerboy666: Pretty mixed up. Am trying to help her. Wish I was with you, though, but she needs me right now.

TwilightSparkle: She’s not your responsibility.

Ruggerboy666: I know, but she’s got no one else.

TwilightSparkle: Sounds like she’s lucky to have you.

Ruggerboy666: Not really. She’d be really upset if she knew I was talking to you.

TwilightSparkle: We’re only talking.

Ruggerboy666: Yeah, but it means a lot. Just having someone to talk to who understands.

TwilightSparkle: Yeah, I know what you mean.

The next few conversations bat backwards and forwards, harmless banter that borders on the inane at times, but each time another layer is added to Pascoe’s façade as a caring friend. Someone to be trusted. God, Megan, if only you’d told me. I’d have seen through this shit.

Ruggerboy666: Guess what?

TwilightSparkle: What?

Ruggerboy666: I finally got up the nerve to finish it with her.

TwilightSparkle: Wow, how did she take it?

Ruggerboy666: She was really cut up, but I couldn’t go on faking it.

TwilightSparkle: What now?

Ruggerboy666: Can we meet? But not in Bidecombe.

TwilightSparkle: Not sure.

Ruggerboy666: ’Course. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to meet me either!

TwilightSparkle: Lol.

And then there’s nothing, not until the night I sent her to her room for truanting from school while I went to Penny’s to cool off.

TwilightSparkle: You there?

Ruggerboy666: Yeah. You OK?

TwilightSparkle: No. Bunked off school. Don’t want to say why. My mum went mad. Grounded me. The bitch.

Ruggerboy666: That’s OK. I’m here if you wanna talk. Your mum was probs just worried about you.

TwilightSparkle: She doesn’t give a shit about me. She’s never around anyway. Always at work.

Always at work.

Ruggerboy666: I’m sure that’s not true.

TwilightSparkle: You don’t know her. She totally lost her rag with me.

Ruggerboy666: Sounds like you need saving from her.

TwilightSparkle: Ha! Ha! Too right I do. Sometimes I can’t stand her and I wish I was a million miles away.

Ruggerboy666: Maybe you could be. Wanna meet?

TwilightSparkle: Maybe. Gotta go now. The witch is back.

The conversation resumes a few days later. The night after Cheryl Black’s death.

TwilightSparkle: Fancy meeting up?

Ruggerboy666: Yeah, sure. What changed your mind?

TwilightSparkle: No reason. Off school at the mo and a bit bored.

That’s it? She met him because she was bored being at home on her own?

Ruggerboy666: OK then. I know a great place.

TwilightSparkle: Where?

Ruggerboy666: Three Brethren Woods.

Three Brethren Woods.

The words swell my insides, expand up into my throat and explode from my mouth in a spew of vomit that splatters the path in front of me.

Three Brethren Woods.