Five years earlier
The moment the web page loads, the tingling in Rachel’s stomach spreads through her body. Glittering, unstoppable. She settles against the pillows and, for the first time all week, she feels her shoulders relax. She is Roxy now.
The screen turns black, then the word CamChat floats down from the top.
She glances at Cleo, grinning beside her, and they clink their glasses. It’s the second glass on an empty stomach and Rachel loves the heady road to drunkenness ahead of them. There’s another bottle in the fridge. So what if they eat beans on toast tonight, tomorrow? So the hell what?
The cursor lands on ‘chat’ but Rachel hesitates for a moment, savouring this feeling, letting the shit show of her week drain away. Mandy was an absolute bitch about her make-up. The snooty cow hasn’t stopped picking on her this week. If Rachel spends too much time restocking, then she’s not looking out for customers. If she doesn’t restock the make-up, then she’s daydreaming. It’s school all over again. One rule for everyone else, one rule for her, and she can never, ever get it right. She can never win.
Cleo is the only reason Rachel hasn’t told Mandy to shove the job up her arse. Cleo is the only thing making it bearable, the voice of reason and hope.
‘Ready?’ Rachel asks.
‘Ready,’ Cleo says, and Rachel pretends not to hear the reluctance in her voice.
‘Let’s play.’
Rachel clicks the touchpad and their faces appear. The laptop is cheap, the camera a bit crap, but even with the pixelated screen, Cleo’s bright-red hair is the first thing anyone will notice, followed by the swish of their black eye make-up, and Rachel’s cleavage in a tight purple vest top. It’s her third-date top, her best night-out top.
A second later their screen shrinks into the bottom left corner and the buzz inside her intensifies. The image that loads is a man alone in a bedroom. The camera is directed down to his legs and an ugly cock he’s currently rubbing.
‘Oh my God,’ Cleo shrieks. ‘Skip.’
A giggle bursts out of Rachel and she clicks ‘skip’, but not fast enough to stop the screen blurring.
‘Did he just …’ Cleo makes a face.
‘Yep. Clearly we helped him finish.’ They burst out laughing.
‘Gross.’
‘So gross.’
The next screen is a teenage boy with a strong South African accent. ‘Hey, pretty girls, where you from?’
Rachel senses Cleo about to speak but she skips anyway.
‘Hey,’ Cleo says. ‘Why did you skip?’
‘I just wasn’t feeling that one.’
Rachel skips the next few chats – an older woman and then a group of teenage girls. She’s not sure what she’s looking for. Last week, the week before that, these people would’ve been perfect, but Rachel wants something more now. Bigger.
It’s only when the next face appears that Rachel finds the perfect chat. It’s a man – pasty skin, bald with a patchy beard. He licks his lips when he sees them.
‘The things I would do to you two,’ he says, voice gravelly, low.
Cleo’s hand shoots towards the keyboard but Rachel moves the laptop away, out of Cleo’s reach, and ignores her frown.
‘Like what?’ Rachel asks.
The man’s eyes widen – surprise and delight. His tongue runs slowly across his lower lip, back and forth, and then he answers, his words graphic and disturbing. Rachel hides a shudder and forces herself to smile.
Cleo tugs at her arm. ‘What the hell?’ she whispers. ‘Skip him.’
‘In a sec,’ she replies, and to the screen she says, ‘Where do you live?’
‘London.’
‘Me too.’ Rachel grins, and this time it’s real. ‘Are you one of those guys who’s all talk, or are you going to come and show me in person?’
‘I’ll show you, all right.’
‘Come over now, then.’ Rachel reels off the address before skipping him and collapsing back on the pillows with a shaky sigh. Adrenaline pumps through her body. That was exactly what she needed. Payback!
‘Rach, what was that?’ Cleo’s voice rings with alarm.
‘Just a bit of fun.’ She gives a nervous laugh, feeling light, almost dizzy. But it’s a good feeling. Anything that isn’t bleak misery is good, surely?
‘Was that address made up?’
‘No.’
‘Whose, then?’
‘It was Mandy’s.’ Her eyes catch Cleo’s and she waits for her friend to laugh, but Cleo is still frowning.
‘Rach, what have you done? That man was a nutter. What if he actually goes round there?’
‘Then Mandy will get a fright, which is what she deserves after the way she’s treated me this week.’
Cleo sucks in her lips. She’s not happy and her worry is a buzz-kill.
‘Mandy’s married, right?’ Rachel says.
Cleo nods.
‘So she’s not home alone. All that’s going to happen is that some weirdo is going to knock on her door.’
‘Hey?’ a voice calls out from the laptop.
They jump, their eyes moving to the screen where the next chat has already loaded. There’s something familiar about the bedroom, those magenta curtains and the Salvador Dalí art posters on the wall. It’s only when Rachel’s gaze lands on the girl leaning close to the screen that she knows who she is. Denise. Shit! There’s a movement in the background and Rachel spots Alex coming into view. It’s the girls from their first week.
Everything stops. Rachel holds her breath. Why are they seeing them again?
It’s random. A totally random interface with over a million users. It’s not possible to see the same people twice. A chill races over her body. This can’t be happening and yet it is.
Cleo gasps from beside her. ‘Shit.’
‘Hey, Rachel, Cleo. That’s you, right?’ Denise frowns, her eyes moving between them.
‘Skip,’ Cleo hisses, her cheeks flushing a shade lighter than her hair.
Rachel taps the touchpad, but she can’t find the cursor. Her finger swirls around and around. Where the hell is it?
‘It is you.’ Denise sits back and Rachel spots her grey Bristol University hoody as she folds her arms. ‘What the hell? What happened?’
‘I know what happened,’ Alex calls out. ‘They were faking it.’ She takes a seat beside Denise and it’s just like that first time they loaded CamChat and found two girls who bought hook, line and sinker into their game that they were two sisters living together, one with a violent boyfriend who would hit them both. Denise and Alex were so sweet, so desperate to help them. They even phoned Alex’s brother in London to come and help. Rachel and Cleo shouldn’t have used their real names, though.
God, they look pissed. Really pissed.
‘You can’t mess with people like this,’ Alex says, her voice sharp, her tone cutting. ‘You know my brother drove around South London for over an hour, knocking on doors, looking for you? Someone called the police on him. What kind of people are you? Life isn’t a game, you know?’
Tears swim in Alex’s eyes and Denise touches her arm. ‘Forget it, Alex. One day someone is going to teach them a lesson and they’ll get what’s coming to them.’
‘Oh, piss off, Miss High-and-Mighty.’ Rachel forces a laugh and skips the chat. ‘Fuck,’ she hisses in the silent room.
‘How come we saw them again?’ Cleo bites her lip, staring from the laptop to Rachel and back again.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I thought it was random.’
‘So did I.’ Rachel’s hands shake slightly as she moves the cursor and opens the settings page. ‘I think I must have used the same filters as the first time.’ It’s all she can think of, but still the chances of seeing the same two girls are one in hundreds of thousands. It doesn’t make sense.
‘This has got too weird. We need to stop,’ Cleo says.
‘No.’ The force of Rachel’s voice surprises them both. ‘Please, Cleo. This is way too much fun to stop. You’ve enjoyed it as much as I have.’ She hasn’t. Not really. To Cleo, their games have been a distraction from the day-to-day of their lives; for Rachel, the distraction is so much bigger. It’s all that’s keeping her alive right now. The thought surprises her. Is that true? It feels like it. Playing is the only thing she has in her life. She can’t stop.
‘But—’
‘I’ll be more careful with the filters, OK?’
‘And giving out addresses?’
‘I’ll stop. I promise.’
Cleo pulls a face but Rachel can see she’s wavering.
They look at each other and something passes unspoken between them. The tension in the air disappears and they laugh, nervous, relieved.