The Argument (ARC)

by Victoria Jenkins

  ‘Rosie.’ She shakes her sister by the shoulder, rousing her from sleep. ‘Go back to your room now.’

  In a sleep-filled state, Rosie pulls herself from Olivia’s embrace and gets up from the bed. Then she says something Olivia doesn’t think they’ve ever said before, or if they have it was so long ago that she can no long remember it.

  ‘Love you.’

  In the darkness, Olivia smiles sadly. ‘Night, Rosie. Love you too.’

  15

  Fifteen

  Hannah

  * * *

  When Hannah wakes on Thursday morning, Michael is already showered, dressed and downstairs. He is wearing his work clothes and drinking a coffee at the kitchen table, scrolling his phone with his free hand. A lump of bile lodges in Hannah’s throat at the thought of what he may be looking at, but when he puts the phone on the table and greets her with a casual good morning, she knows he hasn’t seen or heard what she has feared he might have.

  Her husband looks happy that morning, his good humour no doubt encouraged by what happened between them the night before. Hannah hates that she is going to have to kill that happiness, but she knows she must; if he hears about it elsewhere, he will be furious with her for having said nothing.

  ‘Last night,’ she says, going to the table and sitting beside him.

  ‘Good, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Not that. I wanted to tell you something, something about Olivia.’

  ‘Have you seen her this morning?’

  Hannah shakes her head. ‘She can stay in her room. I’ve got to be at the school at 11.30, for a meeting with the head. Something happened yesterday.’

  Michael is looking at her intently, waiting for her to continue. Hannah feels suddenly self-conscious and exposed in the t-shirt and shorts she’s still wearing. She wishes now that she had showered first, got dressed into something more appropriate, though she isn’t sure what difference either of these things would have made.

  ‘Hannah. What happened?’

  She takes her phone from the pocket of her shorts and plays him one of the clips that has been shared online, turning her head away so that she doesn’t have to expose herself to yet another viewing of her daughter’s shameful actions. There is no point in trying to hide anything from him; he is going to find out anyway. She glances at her husband’s face, but he is giving away nothing, his expression impassive as he watches the footage to its end. When it finishes, she returns the phone to her pocket. She sees Michael’s jaw tauten in the first sign of a reaction.

  ‘I thought for a minute she was going to jump,’ he says quietly.

  Hannah nods. ‘I think everyone did.’ She puts her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. ‘What are we going to do, Michael? The house, the phone call from Rosie’s school, now this. She’s out of control, isn’t she?’

  If she is being punished, it has gone far enough. Perhaps she should have told Michael the truth about the argument on Friday evening. Maybe he could have dealt with the situation more effectively than she has been able to, and yesterday’s incident might have been avoided. Either way, Hannah realises it is too late for that. If she tells him the truth now, it will only make things worse.

  Michael stands, his chair scraping noisily across the tiled floor of the kitchen.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Hannah asks, her voice panicked.

  ‘I’m just going to speak to her. I want to hear her side of things.’

  Hannah waits in the kitchen. Michael closes the door behind him, and she listens to his footsteps on the stairs as he heads to Olivia’s room. She glances at the clock. There are hours to kill before she needs to leave the house to go to the school, time she knows will be long and arduous. It means yet another morning spent overthinking and trying – and failing – to avoid what is there on the internet.

  Knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to resist the urge that makes her return to it, Hannah takes her phone back out from her pocket and goes to the footage of Olivia once again. Her daughter’s public display of indecency has been shared by numerous students, each short clip depicting a different angle of her daughter’s shame. Hannah laments the state of the world they live in. Rather than try to reach Olivia or stop her from what she was doing people were far more interested in reaching for their phones and recording the moment so they could later torment her with the living memory of it. She imagines that those who have shared the footage have gained followers by doing so, using Olivia’s behaviour to benefit their own narcissism. There was a time when Hannah would have prided herself on the fact that her children would never behave in such a way, but after this past week she feels as though anything is possible. Olivia is impossible to predict, and Hannah knows now that’s dangerous.

  She turns the sound down on her phone and plays the clip. The filming is shaky, the phone held up in unsteady hands, but the job is good enough to capture everything Hannah doesn’t want the world to see. Olivia stands at the edge of the roof, peering at the ground below. It looks as though she is going to jump, and the collective gasp that swells from the waiting crowd when Olivia takes a step forward is evidence that her audience expected the same, a fact that only serves to makes the filming of the incident even more sickening. Had her daughter wanted to kill herself, there were people there who wanted to film it, play it back, share it.

  There are raised voices in the background, people shouting, then a series of jeers and wolf whistles as Olivia reaches for the underarms of her unbuttoned shirt and pulls it up over her head in one swift movement. Cheers follow, then laughter. The filming becomes jerkier as the person holding the phone laughs along with the rest of the braying crowd. Hannah watches with shame and horror as her daughter puts her hands behind her back, unclips her bra and whips it away from her body in the manner of some cheap nightclub stripper, leaving her in only her skirt and her shoes. The bra is thrown behind her, landing somewhere out of sight on the roof. Hannah stops the video; she can’t bear to watch any more.

  She scrolls to the comments below, her heart throbbing at the things she sees written there.

  * * *

  SkyGirl03

  WTF was she thinking??!

  AmyLou

  Always knew this girl was nuts

  DanDan2002

  State of it – got tits like my nan.

  CallumJay

  Why you seen your nan’s rack? Perv.

  Westie

  Sucks on them titties when she puts him to bed

  StaceyJones

  Looooooooool

  DanDan2002

  Fuck you Westie haha

  * * *

  Hannah can’t read anymore; she is disgusted by it all: the language, the coarseness, the things they are saying about Olivia. She is angry with these people she has never even seen before, yet she knows what she feels towards these strangers can’t compare with the way she feels towards her daughter. She slams her phone down on the table and sits in silence, listening out for any sound from upstairs. There is none. She tries to imagine what Michael might be saying to Olivia, but she has no idea how he might be taking all this.

  She busies herself with anything that comes to hand, putting away the few dishes that stand on the draining rack from the night before and rotating the food in the fridge so that the items with the closest use-by dates are nearest the front of the shelves. When she’s finished this, Hannah starts taking tins and packets from the cupboards, wiping the shelves below before returning the contents. A while later, Michael returns. He has been upstairs for nearly half an hour. She wants to ask him what’s been said, yet at the same time she doesn’t want to know.

  ‘I need to get to work,’ he tells her, not mentioning Olivia or what has been said between them, whether she spoke to him this time.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘I’m going to be late.’

  With that, he brings the conversation to an end, making it clear that whatever has been said or not said, he wishes it to remain between Olivia and him
. She tells him quietly she will see him later. After he leaves the house, Hannah goes upstairs and stands on the landing outside Olivia’s bedroom, her ear pressed to the closed door. She waits, listens harder; she hears her daughter’s sobs, soft and suppressed. She thinks about going into the room, but she won’t yet. It is likely she will only be met with silence. Instead, she showers and gets dressed, choosing an outfit appropriate for her forthcoming meeting with the head teacher. She needs to make the right impression; it is her responsibility now to try to counteract everything that Olivia has suggested about their family through her recent behaviour.

  Before she leaves the house, Hannah makes a sandwich and pours a glass of orange juice. She sets them on a tray with a couple of biscuits and carries the tray up to Olivia’s room. Her daughter is in bed, her back turned to the room. She can hear Olivia isn’t sleeping, but she doesn’t turn to acknowledge Hannah when she enters the room.

  She sets the tray down on the bedside table. ‘Try to eat something.’

  She finds herself unable to say any more, still furious with her for what she’s done.

  Half an hour later, Hannah is being taken by the school receptionist to the head teacher’s office. She has seen the head teacher before though she has never needed to speak with her, and as she is led into the office, she feels grateful that there is no one else in the corridor to witness her being there.

  ‘Mrs Parker,’ she says quickly, as the head gestures to one of the chairs waiting near her desk. ‘I’m so sorry for Olivia’s behaviour. I don’t know what possessed her.’

  The head teacher sits down at the desk and puts her hands on the table. ‘We’re all surprised by what happened yesterday, Mrs Walters. It’s just so out of character for Olivia – I don’t think she’s ever been in any sort of trouble in the five years she’s been here. I don’t remember her ever attending an after-school detention, even.’

  Hannah shakes her head, not knowing what to say. She doesn’t want to be here; she shouldn’t have to be here. She wishes Michael was beside her, yet also doubts his being there would be such a good idea. He was furious when he came downstairs after seeing Olivia earlier; he didn’t need to say anything to make his anger known.

  ‘Has she told you why she did it?’

  Hannah shakes her head. She’s not going to volunteer anything this woman doesn’t need to know, not when knowing there has been an ongoing argument between Olivia and her will only add suspicion to what is already strange enough behaviour. Telling the head teacher that Olivia has spoken to her in almost a week isn’t going to help matters, and she won’t allow her daughter to implicate them in the way she may be hoping to. This is on her, all of it, and she will have to deal with the repercussions.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to ask,’ Mrs Parker says, ‘but is everything okay at home?’

  Hannah resents the question and the implications that come with it, and the look that passes Mrs Parker’s face says she has noticed the immediate grievance she has taken. ‘Everything is fine,’ she says, a little more bluntly than she intends. She sighs and looks down at her hands in her laps. ‘This is as much a shock to us as it is to you.’

  ‘Has anything happened that might have prompted the behaviour, do you think?’

  Hannah shakes her head. ‘Like I said, this has come completely out of nowhere.’ She looks Mrs Parker in the eye. ‘I’ll be honest with you – Olivia’s behaviour has been challenging recently. She’s always been a good girl, but just recently she seems to be doing everything she can to test her father and me. Maybe it’s her age, I don’t know. I certainly don’t know why she did what she did. I can only assure you that it most definitely won’t happen again.’

  Mrs Parker nods slowly, but she is looking at Hannah as though this is in some way her fault. ‘A few of Olivia’s teachers have commented on her recent weight loss. I’m sure you’ve discussed it with her at home.’

  ‘She’s a teenage girl,’ Hannah says defensively, knowing her tone is only likely to exacerbate the tensions between them. ‘You know what they’re like, they’re all about image at this age.’

  ‘Of course. We’re just a little concerned that it’s happened so quickly in Olivia’s case.’

  In her lap, Hannah squeezes the fingers of her right hand until her knuckles whiten. ‘Olivia was always slightly overweight as a child. She’s lost weight, yes, but she’s probably healthier now than she was this time last year.’

  Mrs Parker gives her a look that Hannah chooses not to analyse. This is none of the woman’s business, and she has no right to sit here questioning her in this way, making her feel as though she’s inadequate as a parent.

  ‘Okay. Look, I’m sorry to have to do this, I really am, but I have no choice other than to suspend Olivia for a week.’

  Hannah nods; she had known that this was inevitable. She is angrier with Olivia than she has ever been, at having done such a stupid and shameful thing, and at having done so this close to the start of her GCSE exams. It feels as though she has timed this purposely, as though she has waited until now in order to wreak as much devastation as she can. She is punishing herself if only she would see it, but Olivia is too headstrong and too defiant to be told any different.

  As though reading her thoughts, Mrs Parker says, ‘I’m assuming Olivia will be back for the last few weeks before her exams start?’

  ‘Of course.’ Hannah pushes her chair back and stands. She doesn’t know what else can be said, and she wants nothing more now than to be away from this room. She didn’t come here to be judged, though she feels this is exactly what is happening. The look stamped on the head teacher’s face is enough to confirm that Hannah appears guilty, and she imagines that the woman had already condemned her as a failure of a mother before she even entered the room. Hannah feels deflated, defeated, knowing that her parenting has been thrown into question, knowing that this is exactly what Olivia has wanted. That she’s winning.

  * * *

  Sixteen

  Olivia

  * * *

  Olivia is still in bed, still staring at the same wall. The one-sided conversation her father had with her plays over in her head, his words taunting her. Shameful…embarrassment…these words are nothing new, she has heard them all from her mother. The rest that was said, though, these are things that Olivia hadn’t been expecting. She wonders whether her mother knows of her father’s plans. Perhaps they aren’t real, she tells herself, desperately clinging to the hopeless notion that this might be the truth and that his threat may be nothing more than just that.

  Would it be so bad if it is true, she thinks? Perhaps it would be a blessing in disguise, a chance for her to do the things she’s always wanted. Her father used it as a threat, but what if he is giving her an opportunity of a lifetime? She would be free from this place, at least; free from her parents’ nagging and their incessant rules.

  She can hope all she wants, but the possibility that it may be something that might turn out to be a good thing for Olivia won’t present itself as real. Her father wouldn’t plan something without knowing exactly how it will play out; he is far too meticulous and clever for that. They want her to be punished for what she has done, for whatever it is they are worried about her doing next, and there is still a part of her that wonders whether she deserves all this. Perhaps there really is something wrong with her, just as so many other people have reminded her over the years.

  Olivia tries to sleep, but she has already slept more than she needs to, and she cannot return to it, not while there is so much to think about. She knows her mother has been to the school to discuss whatever happens next, and she wonders what has been said about her there. She shouldn’t care and yet she does. People already think all sorts about her. She has been called more names than she is able to remember, so what will a few more matter now? What matters is what happens next, and the uncertainty of the future fills Olivia was a sickening fear that makes her feel worse than she has ever felt before.

  She is con
sidering her father’s threat when there is a small tapping at her bedroom room. Rosie’s head appears around the doorway, her red hair pulled into a flowing ponytail that sits upon her left shoulder. She looks grown up, Olivia thinks, too grown up, and the thought is one that fills her with a hope that until now she might have easily believed could never exist. It won’t be like this forever, she reminds herself. Neither of them will be children forever, and when they are adults they will be able to do as they please.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Rosie climbs into the bed and wraps her arms around her sister. Olivia wants to cry, so she does, hot tears burning her eyes and streaking her face. She doesn’t answer the question; she doesn’t need to. She can’t remember the last time she was okay.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ Olivia asks, wiping a hand over her eyes. She already feels bad for getting upset in front of Rosie. She’s the older sister; she should be the stronger of the two.

  ‘On the phone.’

  The girls tighten their embrace, knowing the call is likely to be short and that their time together will be cut dead when their mother’s conversation is over.

  ‘If I tell you something, do you promise not to mention it to Mum or Dad?’

  Rosie nods.

  ‘I mean it though, this is serious, okay? You can’t say anything about it, not to them or anyone else.’

  ‘What is it?’ Rosie asks, looking worried now.

  ‘Dad wants to send me away.’

  Rosie’s mouth falls open, but no sound escapes her. The girls sit in silence for a moment, one that is eventually broken by Rosie.