by Vikki Patis
There is a missed call on his phone. He taps at the name, listening as it rings once, twice.
‘Finally!’ Josh says when he answers. ‘Thought you’d died. Where were you today?’
‘Nowhere,’ Seb says. ‘Why?’
‘Mate, you missed it. It proper kicked off between Sian and Abby at break.’
His stomach lurches at the mention of Sian. ‘What happened?’
‘So, Sian comes in with a banged-up nose. She hasn’t been in all week,’ Josh says. Seb holds his breath. ‘She’s got a black eye too, looks like she’s been beaten up. Anyway, Abby says something about Sian liking it rough and she goes mental, jumps on top of Abby and starts screaming like a lunatic. She ripped a massive chunk of her hair out.’
Seb exhales. ‘Jesus. I didn’t know she had it in her.’
‘I know, right?’ Josh laughs. ‘She was like, wild.’
‘Did Sian say what happened to her?’ Seb asks tentatively.
‘Nah. This happened at break, she was gone by lunchtime. Excluded.’ Seb hears gunfire in the background, recognises the game Josh is playing. He feels a pang of sadness. Everything he used to enjoy – hanging out with his friends, quiet evenings with his nan – has gone, and he doesn’t know how to get it back.
‘We should do something tomorrow,’ Josh is saying. ‘Cinema? Lew’s dad could take us.’
Seb shakes himself. ‘What? Erm, no, sorry, I can’t do tomorrow.’
There is a pause, the silence expanding until Josh speaks again. ‘Is everything all right, mate?’ he asks. There is no noise in the background now, the game silenced. ‘It’s just, you’ve been a bit off lately. Is it because of Izzy?’
Seb inhales, holds it. How can he explain? He cannot even put his thoughts into words for himself, let alone for someone else. ‘I’m fine,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
A soft rap on the front door startles Seb awake. For a moment he is confused, looking around the room, until he realises that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa. He checks his phone, seven o’clock. His stomach rumbles as he heaves himself off the sofa, exhaustion weighing down his limbs. He opens the door to find Jodie standing there, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.
‘You been avoiding me?’ she says, her mouth twitching into a smile, but her eyes are hard.
‘No,’ he lies. ‘Just been busy.’
‘Busy with your other mates?’
‘No.’
‘Look,’ Jodie says, putting a hand on the door frame. ‘I know your nan doesn’t like me, but I also know that she’s not here. So why don’t you let me in?’
‘I was just about to have dinner,’ he says, glancing back at the dark, empty kitchen.
She looks at him, tilting her head to one side. ‘All right. We’ll have this conversation out here then.’ She leans against the railing, tipping her head back and blowing smoke towards the sky. ‘What happened was a mistake, is that what you want to hear? I’ve never done anything like that before.’
‘Seemed like you knew what you were doing,’ Seb mutters.
Jodie grimaces. ‘I’ve done other things, just not like that,’ she says. ‘I got scared. I thought she might recognise you. I didn’t know how else to keep her attention on me.’
‘So you hurt her.’
‘Yeah. I panicked. Guilty as charged.’ She holds out her arms as if she is about to be handcuffed. ‘But that money did some good. It helped keep a proper ill bloke and his family off the streets. It filled his cupboards and heated his flat. It’s not like we did it for a laugh, to just blow on booze and bud.’
Seb doesn’t speak. He remembers the fifty pounds Jodie handed him the next day, after she had sold what they’d stolen. He doesn’t know how much she gave to Jenny, or how much she kept for herself. He doesn’t want to know.
‘Besides,’ she says, dropping her cigarette butt to the floor. ‘It was your suggestion.’
‘I didn’t want her to get hurt,’ he protests, but his words are empty. It was his suggestion. He chose Sian, plucked her name out of the air and decided that she should be the one to pay for Olly’s brother. And why? Because she isn’t a nice person? Because she hurt Izzy? Because she is the embodiment of everything Seb could never be?
‘I know,’ Jodie says. ‘I am sorry. It’s not like me. I’m not like that. I swear.’
He looks at her, sees the vulnerability in her eyes. Then a memory comes back to him, something his nan told him before that he has forgotten until now. ‘You pushed your stepdad down the stairs,’ he says. ‘That’s why your mum kicked you out.’
He watches something flicker across her face: pain? But it swiftly turns to anger. ‘I pushed him down the stairs because he was trying to touch me,’ she hisses. ‘He fucking deserved it.’
‘You think everyone deserves it,’ he shoots back. ‘I suppose Sian did too?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, maybe she did. Maybe she did deserve it. But you know what? That’s all on you. I take no responsibility for what happened.’ She holds up her hands. ‘My conscience is clear.’
A door opens, a neighbour passing by on the path beyond. He hopes they haven’t heard anything. ‘Just leave me alone,’ he says quietly. ‘I don’t want to get mixed up in anything, all right?’
‘Seb?’ He closes his eyes at the sound of his nan’s voice. She comes up behind Jodie, her brows knitted. ‘What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from my grandson?’
Panic flares inside him. ‘It’s all right, Nan, she was just going.’ He glares at Jodie, dreading what she might say, what she might tell Liv, but she only shrugs.
‘See you around, posh boy,’ she says, before turning and walking away.
50
Izzy
The table is littered with pizza boxes, crusts with toothmarks nibbled into them thrown back. Izzy is on her third glass of wine, the most her dad said she could have, and she feels tipsy in a nice, relaxed way. The kitchen is full of chatter and giggling, and Izzy feels almost completely at ease. It is only the six of them, a chilled party unlike any she has ever been to before. She still needs to get to know the others better, but she thinks that this could really be the start of something new. Of happier days to come.
‘Picture time!’ Katie exclaims, attaching her phone to a selfie stick, and the girls cluster together on the sofa or on the floor below, with Izzy in the middle of it all.
‘You have to wear your hat!’ Chloe says, reaching for the pink party hat with BDAY GIRL written across the front. She places it on Izzy’s head carefully. ‘Don’t want to ruin those lovely curls.’
Izzy pats her hair self-consciously.
‘Are we ready?’ Katie says, holding the stick out. ‘Say cheese!’
‘Cheese!’ the girls chorus, grinning widely, Izzy’s the widest of them all.
‘Send it to me,’ Cara says. ‘I want to put it on Insta.’
‘I’ll put it up now and tag you all,’ Katie says, typing on her phone. Izzy watches her select a filter and tag the rest of them, before adding hashtags like #birthdaygirl and #izzyssweetsixteen. Katie taps to upload and their phones all buzz at the same time.
‘Can we watch the film now?’ Steph asks. ‘I’ve been dying to see this for ages.’
‘Yeah!’ Maddie chirps. ‘It’s meant to be awesome.’
‘Which film?’ Izzy asks, looking at Katie.
‘Doctor Sleep,’ Chloe answers. ‘It’s based on a Stephen King book.’
‘Oh, yeah, I read that last year,’ Izzy says. ‘I didn’t know they’d made a film.’
‘Was it good?’ Cara asks. ‘Do I need to read The Shining first?’
‘I don’t think you have to, but The Shining is good too.’
‘I’ve seen the film,’ Steph says. ‘It was okay. Very eighties.’
‘I’m not really a reader,’ Katie says with a wave of her hand. ‘The last book I read was probably by Jacqueline Wilson.’
‘I used to read a lot,’ Izzy says, remembering the days w
hen she would hole up in her room, trying to disappear into fictional worlds. Her Kindle is still full of unread books, waiting for her to need them again. She remembers that she hasn’t seen it in a while, and wonders where she left it.
‘Has everyone got a drink?’ Katie asks, playing the hostess. ‘Before I start the film.’ Izzy looks down at her glass and is surprised to find it empty.
‘Oh no,’ Cara says. ‘The birthday girl doesn’t!’
‘Well that won’t do,’ Katie says, getting up and grabbing Izzy’s glass before going to the fridge.
‘No more wine for me,’ Izzy says. ‘I’ve had enough.’
‘No way!’ Chloe protests. ‘There’s still loads left.’
‘Just a Coke, really.’ Izzy smiles. ‘I don’t want a hangover tomorrow.’
‘Fine,’ Katie says, dragging the word out. She grabs a can and hands it to Izzy. ‘Right, are we ready?’
‘Yes!’
The girls settle into their seats as the film starts, Katie passing around the bowls of crisps. Izzy sips her Coke, only half-watching the film. She is remembering her last birthday, when everything had already started to go wrong. She remembers the awkward meal she had with her mum and Michael, Alicia away on a university trip. They ordered Chinese and Izzy picked at her chow mein, unable to focus on the stilted conversation, unable to think about anything but the messages she would be getting. It was strange, the way she felt simultaneously drawn to and repelled by her phone. She couldn’t stop herself checking for the messages she knew would upset her, and yet when she checked and there was nothing new, she felt herself clinging to her phone, waiting, waiting for them to come in, almost as if she wanted them to.
As if on cue, she feels her phone vibrate. She fishes it out of her pocket and unlocks it, clicking on the photo Katie has uploaded. It is a nice one, with none of the girls pulling funny faces or looking away. They are all smiling, they all look happy. Even Izzy.
But the smile falls from her face as she checks her notifications. Watthe04 has left a comment on the photo.
Nice photo. Who’s the piggy in the middle?
And then a second comment beneath it, which makes Izzy’s cheeks grow hot.
I’ve got a better photo to share. Wanna see?
She taps on the comment, realising with horror that she cannot delete it. It isn’t her photo, it’s on Katie’s profile. Fuck. She can’t ask Katie to delete it, that will just draw attention to it. Fuck. She glances up at the group, noticing that Chloe is on her phone too. She looks up and meets Izzy’s gaze, and she knows that she has seen it. Fuck!
She jumps up, mumbling something about needing the toilet, and runs down the hall, locking the bathroom door behind her. She grips the sink, her fingers turning white as she breathes in and out, in and out. They can’t hurt me here. They can’t hurt me here. Oh, but they can. They have followed her all the way to Plymouth, worming their way inside her phone, inside her head. She will never be free of them.
A tap on the door makes her jump. ‘Izzy?’
‘Just a minute!’ she calls, trying to make her voice light, but she just sounds strangled.
‘Izzy, it’s Chloe. Let me in.’
She meets her own gaze in the mirror, recognises the look in her eyes. Fear, wild and fierce, like a fox taking refuge in its den. They’ll smoke me out.
She unlocks the door, opening it slowly to reveal Chloe’s worried face. Chloe steps into the room.
‘I’ve deleted it,’ she says, holding up her phone. The comments are gone. ‘I asked to borrow Katie’s phone, to see the other pictures she took.’
Relief hits Izzy like a wave, so strong she has to sit down. She almost falls onto the toilet lid, her head in her hands. Chloe crouches before her.
‘You were bullied, before, in Hertfordshire?’ she asks. Izzy nods. ‘I’ve been there. I had to move schools a few years ago. It was awful.’ She places a hand on Izzy’s shoulder, and Izzy is so grateful for her kindness that she feels her eyes well up. ‘You should know, that person tried to send me a message. I don’t know if they’ve tried the others yet.’ Izzy freezes, not daring to lift her head. ‘Don’t worry, I told them to fuck off and blocked them,’ Chloe says. ‘But Izzy, they sent me a photo.’
And Izzy feels everything start to disintegrate.
51
Caitlyn
Everything is going to be all right.
I feel strangely better after I see the photo of Izzy’s party, how at home she looks with her new friends. How happy. It has helped me to see the bigger picture, the other side of the coin. Izzy is a fifteen-year-old girl – almost sixteen, I remind myself – of course she is going to baulk at a police investigation. She just wants to make friends. My daughter needs to be protected, but she also needs to be loved, and not pressured into something she doesn’t want to do. So it is decided: I will simply love her, show her how special she is, how much I appreciate her.
I blitz the house in preparation for her arrival. She has been gone for what feels like forever, the calls and messages dwindling as I’d feared they would, but I’m keeping track of her on social media. She sounds happier when we do speak, laughing more and even making silly jokes, no longer too self-conscious to step outside of her small bubble. It’s almost her birthday, and we are going to celebrate this new chapter in her life.
I book our favourite Italian restaurant and order a red velvet cake from a local shop. On the morning of the day Izzy is due back, I drive into town to collect the cake, managing to nab a space in the car park at the back. As I’m walking round, I almost collide with someone, my head consumed with thoughts of Izzy and this weekend, and I shake myself. I, too, am happier than I have been in a long time, and my head is in the clouds.
Shannon, the shop owner, comes down the narrow staircase at the back of the cake shop, drying her hands on a tea towel.
‘Hi,’ I say, plastering on a smile. ‘I’m here to pick up a cake. For Caitlyn?’
‘Ah, yes,’ she replies, flicking her long braid over her shoulder. ‘Let me just grab it. Take a seat.’ She goes back upstairs and I perch on the blue wooden bench, fiddling with a coaster while I wait. She reappears holding a white box, and I rush forward to lift the counter for her.
‘Thanks.’ She smiles as she steps through. ‘Here we are!’
I peer through the plastic window at the cake. The rich creamy icing is swirled into a rose pattern, and a glittery topper with the words Izzy is 16! is poking out of the top.
‘Wow!’ I say with a grin. ‘It looks fab.’ I take the box from her. ‘Thanks again for squeezing me in.’
Shannon waves a hand. ‘No worries, I had a cancellation.’
‘Lucky for me, I guess.’
She holds the door open for me and I exit the small shop, thanking her again. Izzy is going to love this cake. A memory pops into my head of me and the girls baking cupcakes one weekend morning. The weather was dreadful, lashing rain and heavy, grey clouds, so we stayed in and made a dozen cupcakes, covering ourselves and the floor with flour. They came out a bit lopsided, but they didn’t taste too bad. I remember Izzy bringing me the last cake, holding it cupped in her palms like a precious object, while Alicia brought in a cup of tea, concentrating hard on not spilling it. I hadn’t wanted to eat it, had wanted to keep it preserved for all time like some relic, as if I had known that those days would soon be gone, those simple, happy days of flour fights and rainy days and a house full of giggles.
I slide the cake onto the front passenger seat, clicking in the seat belt for good measure. The last thing I need is for it to go flying on the short drive home. On the way I think of Seb, of how different he looked the last time I saw him. Maybe he’s taken the break-up badly, his pride wounded. I should go round one day, I think decisively. I’d overheard two women talking in the chemist the other day about Liv’s mother being taken into hospital. I should take some flowers round, repay the kindness she always showed Izzy.
I put the cake in the fridge and unload
the washing machine, shoving most of the wet clothes into the tumble dryer before hanging the more delicate items on the airer in the corner of the small utility room. I get the iron out and go over my favourite top, black with metallic pink dots, ready for the meal this evening. Izzy should be here by about half past six, if the traffic behaves, and the table is booked for eight. Plenty of time.
I hear a key in the door as I’m heading upstairs for a shower. Alicia bursts in, a bunch of flowers crushed in her arms.
‘Give those here,’ I say, taking the bouquet and her overnight bag from her. ‘Good journey?’
‘Fine, yeah. Dying for a wee though.’ She nods at the flowers as she moves past towards the bathroom. ‘They were left on the doorstep.’
I pause, frowning. Was it Liv again? I set Alicia’s bag on the bottom step and carry the flowers into the kitchen, peering inside the cellophane for a card. I find it tucked into a fold and pull it out, flicking it open and reading the printed words as I dig a vase out from under the sink.
The vase slips from my fingers, smashing against the tiles. Alicia is suddenly in front of me, her mouth moving, but I cannot hear her over the rushing in my ears, like waves crashing against rocks. She takes the card from me, one hand moving to cover her mouth as she reads.
HAPPY LAST BIRTHDAY, BITCH.
52
Liv
A fist pounds against the front door and I almost leap out of my skin. Hot tea splashes against my wrist and I curse, grabbing a tea towel and mopping it up. At least it didn’t splash my clothes; it’s my last clean uniform. I haven’t managed to do a load of washing yet between working and looking after Mum. My thoughts go to Seb, as they so often do these days, something niggling at the back of my mind. He had been arguing with Jodie when I came home the other night; I could feel the tension between them, so thick that I know something must have happened. But what?