SIXTY-THREE
Friday 8 January
It was January, for God’s sake, thought Lorna. Christmas was over and done with – forgotten pretty much and, as for the end of last term, well, that felt like light years away.
So why the hell were people messaging each other about the end-of-year gift for Miss Young?
It had started that morning. One of the mums – Stacey – had put a message in the group saying she’d bumped into Miss Young in John Lewis in Derby over the holidays where she was buying a new toaster and kettle with her voucher. On the WhatsApp group Stacey had congratulated all the other mums on their generosity: ‘Thirty of the best mums in Derbyshire!’ she’d typed, and loads of them had responded with hearts, smiley faces and kisses – except for Hannah.
It was always Hannah who had to rock the bloody boat. She either said the opposite to everyone else – just to wind them up, Lorna sometimes thought – or she had to point out what everyone was politely avoiding or she deliberately challenged someone’s views, when it was so obviously a joke. Whatever it was, she always had to spoil the party. So Hannah, bloody Hannah, had only gone and written: ‘Pretty special toaster and kettle for £300!’
Then Sally had pointed out that no, the total had been £170 and copied and reposted Lorna’s message that she’d sent to everyone at the end of term saying how she’d bought a multi-store voucher for £170 and taken a photo of it.
And then Hannah had said: ‘Oh, I forgot about that message. But didn’t we all put in a tenner?’
At that point, Lorna had started to sweat and she’d sworn out loud. The poor dog had looked up in alarm. Lorna had had to stop her ironing. She couldn’t focus and she was very, very nervous about what was going to happen next.
The thread went quiet for a bit then a couple of them felt compelled to declare what they had donated.
11:28
Oh my God, thought Lorna, they were gathering strength. The more of them who declared their amount, the more would follow. Any concerns about what this actually meant for her – Lorna – would fly out the window as the herd stampeded. If anyone else put a message on, she’d have to start thinking of a response. This was definitely one of those situations where silence smacked very heavily of guilt.
Lorna held her breath as she watched her phone screen anxiously. Please let this go away, she thought.
The doorbell rang. Lorna’s head jerked up. Who the hell was that? She wasn’t expecting anyone. She didn’t want to see anyone – not right now. She had to keep an eye on this group.
She thought about ignoring whoever was at the door, but the doorbell rang again. She opened it.
And instantly regretted it.
‘Mum,’ she said.
‘Hi.’ Carol hesitated, no doubt having picked up on her less than enthusiastic welcome. ‘Can I come in?’
What circumstances warranted a ‘no’? Lorna couldn’t think of one off the top of her head. Someone in the house was ill? Dying? No, the most extreme of situations would only have made her mother more likely to step over the threshold and help. Lorna was aware she was waiting a little too long with her response.
‘Course,’ she said, irritated beyond words that her mother had picked now for an impromptu visit. As soon as Carol slipped off her coat and shoes, Lorna realized that she should have said she was going out. So simple. She kicked herself but it was too late now.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked.
‘That would be lovely,’ said Carol, and Lorna noticed for the first time that her mother looked drawn, maybe even a little upset. As she put the kettle on she took the opportunity to surreptitiously check her phone.
Oh, thank you, thank you, thought Lorna. I will forever love you. That’s all she needed, one or two to say they hadn’t donated the suggested amount and then this would all die a natural death and everyone would forget about it.
Lorna made two teas and joined her mum at the kitchen table. She placed her phone carefully next to her mug.
‘Sorry to arrive unannounced,’ said Carol.
‘Oh, no problem,’ said Lorna, on cue.
‘I just needed a bit of company, I suppose.’
Oh God, was Lorna’s first thought. Did this mean Carol was going to be here for a while? Didn’t she have other friends she could call on? Ordinarily, she would’ve been fine about it but . . . her eyes slid to her phone, vibrating on the table. She pressed the button on the side and the green WhatsApp symbol appeared in a white bar teasing her with its notification: 1 new message. Open me, it was saying. Come and see what someone else has said about this Christmas gift impending disaster.
‘What do you see when you look at me?’ asked Carol suddenly.
Lorna looked back at her mother. ‘What?’
Carol was self-conscious, awkward. ‘Do you see a dowdy, late-middle-aged woman, or someone with a bit of pizzazz still about them?’
Why was her mother asking this? Another vibrating sound came from the table. Lorna quickly looked back at her phone. Another bloody message. Buzz, another. Buzz, buzz.
‘Only sometimes . . . recently . . . I’m having a conversation with James and I feel as if his mind is elsewhere.’
‘Is it?’ asked Lorna.
‘It seems that way.’ Carol shook herself and put on a smile. ‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m just being silly. Do you need to check that?’
Lorna looked up, saw her mum was pointing at the phone. She blushed. ‘Sorry, yes, do you mind?’ She didn’t wait for an answer and quickly read the messages.
Oh Jesus. Lorna’s heart was racing. What should she do? This was gathering momentum and had the power to get out of control. Maybe she should just say the total had been £270, not £170, something like: Meant to be a ‘2’. Me and my fat thumbs! That would make the numbers stack up more. She remembered that the gift card hadn’t actually stated the amount on it, so she could take this route. But what if someone actually went up to Miss Young and asked her what she had received? Lorna felt quite faint. There would be nowhere to hide if that happened. She wouldn’t put it past Hannah to do such a thing, Lorna thought darkly. She wiped a film of sweat from her upper lip.
‘Is everything OK?’
Lorna looked distractedly up at her mum. ‘Yes, fine.’ It was anything but. She had to think of something and fast.
Actually . . . there was that insurance, that idea she’d already seeded. But how to go about it?
Her phone buzzed again. She sensed her mother flinch.
Lorna opened up the message. It was from Erin.
It was an open invitation to step up to the witness box. Lorna felt the spotlight well and truly blind her. She had to message something.
Oh God, what did that mean? She hadn’t done anything to close this down, she thought in panic.
Breathe, breathe, thought Lorna. Her hands were shaking. She was aware her mother was watching her and she tried to make everything seem normal.
I don’t understand. I had full responsibility of the envelope at all times. 
11:37
Should she mention the Christmas fair? No, that might be a little too obvious. Better wait and see if someone took the bait. She pressed ‘Send’. It didn’t once occur to her about the repercussions on Nancy. She was aware that no one really knew her that well – they were such a tight-knit group and with it being the last year of primary school, it was almost as if Nancy was just passing through. No one had paid her that much attention. The appetite of the established mums to make new friends had waned.
And anyway, Lorna needed to get out of a hole. A massive, deep, dark one.
A message came through from Erin. Lorna read it with bated breath.
Lorna was awash with relief. Thank God Erin had remembered.
She quickly typed:
Lorna made sure she was the one to make the next point.
Lorna was suddenly aware of Carol standing in front of her. She looked up; for a moment she’d forgotten her mum was there.
‘I’ve obviously caught you at a bad time,’ said Carol.
‘No, it’s OK, Mum.’ And it was now, Lorna thought. Even if someone confronted Nancy – and they wouldn’t, she was sure of it – then Nancy would deny it and the local mums would remain suspicious. They’d badmouth her for a bit then something else would happen in the busy whirlwind of the school calendar and it would become just some anecdotal: Remember when . . .?
‘I think I’d rather go,’ said Carol and Lorna caught the sadness in her mother’s voice and felt bad.
‘Sure I can’t tempt you to stay with an out-of-date cake? Probably got one here somewhere.’
‘Not today,’ said Carol. She gathered up her things and left.
She would make it up to her sometime, thought Lorna. She tried to remember what her mum had been talking about – something to do with being despondent about the way she looked? Lorna thought her mother was supremely elegant – she was actually envious of her – but she hadn’t had the time to say it.
No, she’d been doing something really urgent. She felt giddy with relief. What a close shave that had been. But she had got out of it. No one suspected a thing.