Mad Men, Bad Girls

by Maggie Groff

  We’d gone ten paces when Mrs Niles called out, ‘Wait!’

  Harper and I turned and walked back towards Mrs Niles, who indicated for us to resume our seats, so we did. Mrs Niles wrung her hands and then sat on the seat adjacent to Harper.

  ‘I was very rude. I apologise,’ she said. ‘The doctor says that Mary will recover with no lasting effects. She can go home tomorrow after she’s seen the psychiatrist.’

  Harper gave Mrs Niles her warmest smile and then looked at me.

  ‘Mrs Niles, this is my sister, Scout Davis. She has nothing to do with the school. We would both like to help you and Mary through this. I . . . we . . . believe that Mary may have been the victim of some sort of behaviour from other students that caused her to retaliate.’

  ‘Do you mean bullying?’ Mrs Niles asked.

  Harper nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Mary has never said anything to me about bullying, but I know there has to be a reason why she did what she did to those girls’ clothes. It’s so out of character for her to do anything like that. It doesn’t make any sense to me.’

  ‘To us, either,’ Harper said quietly.

  Mrs Niles looked at me, then Harper. There was a shift in her demeanour, almost a visible relief.

  ‘I don’t really care about the clothes,’ Mrs Niles revealed. ‘What concerns me most is that Mary tried to kill herself because she thought I was so ashamed and angry that she’d been expelled from school. I thought she knew me better than that. We don’t have much money. Life is . . . is difficult for us. Mary’s sister has . . .’

  The sentence went unfinished. Mrs Niles put her head in her hands and Harper put an arm around her shoulders.

  I leaned forward.

  ‘Mrs Niles,’ I asked, ‘did Mary tell you that’s why she tried to hurt herself?’

  She looked up and shook her head. ‘No, but it’s the only explanation. Mary hasn’t said anything. She won’t speak.’

  I got up and knelt in front of her, taking both her hands in mine.

  ‘Mrs Niles, I don’t believe Mary hurt herself because she thought you were angry or ashamed. I think Mary may have been threatened, perhaps asked to do something that she knew was wrong, and was placed in a position where she felt she had no choice. Mary’s young, inexperienced. She chose the only way out she knew.’

  ‘How would you know that?’ Mrs Niles said, removing one of her hands from my grasp and wiping her eyes.

  Harper was staring at me, her expression bordering on incredulous.

  ‘I’m an experienced investigator,’ I explained. ‘I deal with a lot of complex situations, Mrs Niles. I believe I can help Mary. I’d like to talk to her if you’ll let me. In your presence, of course.’

  Harper and I waited while Mrs Niles mulled over what I’d said. Harper gave me a strange look, which I took to mean that I’d better know what I was doing. After a couple of minutes Mrs Niles stood up and put her hand on my arm.

  ‘Okay, let’s go,’ she said to me. She looked at Harper and said, ‘I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait here. Only two visitors allowed at a time.’

  Harper looked rather sullen. Meanwhile, the chosen one held her head in the air, switched off her mobile phone and followed Mrs Niles into the Intensive Care Unit.

  Chapter 44

  Mary Niles was in a bed near the window, her eyes closed, her head resting on crisp white pillows. Her short brown hair was lank, her skin chalky white, accentuating the fury of adolescent acne on her cheeks.

  I fetched a spare chair and Mrs Niles and I sat next to each other beside Mary’s bed. Mrs Niles took her daughter’s hand. Mary didn’t stir but her eyelids flickered and I knew she was feigning sleep.

  ‘I’ve brought someone to see you, Mary,’ her mother said. ‘I’d like you to listen to her. She may be able to help us.’

  I cleared my throat.

  ‘Mary, my name is Scout Davis. My sister is a teacher at Tattings, Mrs Blaine-Richardson. My visit here has nothing to do with the school. My sister is concerned for your welfare, that’s all. Trust me, what you did, cutting underwear, was minor compared to what I believe may have been happening to you at the school. I think it’s possible you were retaliating against something unpleasant that was being done to you. ’

  Mary’s lips tightened and she turned her head away.

  ‘I believe you’re a good person, Mary. I think that when you realised Kylie got cold without her tights, you didn’t damage them again. A bad person wouldn’t have cared.’

  I glanced at Mrs Niles. She nodded for me to continue.

  ‘I believe, in the last few days, you may have been asked to say you saw something that you didn’t see. You may have been threatened that something awful would happen to you if you didn’t do what you were asked. I believe you couldn’t say you saw something that you didn’t see. I think you chose hurting yourself over hurting another person. That’s the behaviour of a good person, Mary. A brave person. A person who deserves the help of adults who can deal with the situation for you.’

  My piece said, I sat back in the chair, hoping I was on the right track.

  ‘Mary? Mary love,’ her mother urged. ‘Did you hear that?’ She patted Mary’s hand but there was no reaction.

  So I pulled out the big guns.

  ‘Mary,’ I said, ‘I want you to know your mother thinks you hurt yourself because you thought she was upset and angry that you were expelled. It’s not good for your mother to think that if it isn’t true. It makes her think it was her fault you hurt yourself.’

  A tear snaked silently down Mary’s cheek and I knew that I’d broken through. I put my finger to my lips, signalling Mrs Niles not to speak. I mouthed, ‘Wait.’

  We waited.

  Mary’s defences weakened and she started to cry, softly at first, and then the floodgates opened. She gripped her mother’s hand tightly. Her eyes remained closed, but the tears fell freely.

  ‘Mary,’ I said, ‘I’m going to ask you some questions. You don’t have to speak, just nod or shake your head, okay?’

  A small nod.

  ‘Were you being bullied at school by the four girls whose underwear you damaged?’

  A nod.

  ‘Can you tell me how they were bullying you?’

  Mary shook her head vigorously. Something too awful to tell.

  ‘Did you cut the underwear to try to make them stop what they were doing to you?’

  Mary nodded.

  ‘So they knew it was you? Was that the threat they had against you? That they’d tell everyone you did it?’

  Mary shook her head.

  ‘Something else?’

  Mary didn’t respond. She screwed up her face tightly, as if in pain. What could be so terrible for a teenage girl to have exposed? I took a wild guess.

  ‘Mary, did they take bad photographs of you and threaten to show them around? Maybe put them on the internet?’

  Mary let out a heart-wrenching wail. ‘Yes,’ she cried. ‘Yes, yes . . . oh, Mum . . .’

  Mrs Niles stood up quickly and clasped her daughter in a firm embrace. The child sobbed in her arms. I half expected Mrs Niles to signal me it was time to stop, that Mary had had enough, but she didn’t. Instead, she tightened her hold on her daughter and nodded at me to continue.

  ‘Did they do other things to you, Mary?’ I asked.

  I could see her head nodding against her mother’s chest.

  ‘Did they ask you to say that you’d seen something you hadn’t seen?’

  Mary nodded.

  ‘And you couldn’t say you’d seen it, because you hadn’t, is that right?’

  Another nod.

  ‘And if you didn’t say that you’d seen it they would put the pictures on the internet? Is that right too?’

  Mary released herself from her mother’s arms. Her face was wild, her eyes almost manic.

  ‘She sent me texts saying everyone hated me and they were going to kill me. She got the others to hold me down on the toilet with my pan
ts down while she took pictures. She took pictures of what I’d done in the toilet. She said they’d put the pictures on Facebook if I didn’t say that I’d seen Mr Arnold touching her. But he wouldn’t do anything like that. I didn’t see him do it. I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t . . .’

  Mary was hysterical. A nurse ran over and Mrs Niles indicated for her to go away, that we were coping with it. The nurse looked sceptical but turned away. Mrs Niles held her daughter, all the while whispering in her ear, reassuring her that it was okay, it was nearly over.

  I waited until Mary had calmed down, blown her nose and taken a few sips of water.

  ‘Is the she you’re referring to Brianna Berkelow?’ I asked.

  Mary looked shocked. ‘Yes,’ she murmured.

  ‘How did you know that?’ Mrs Niles asked me.

  I breathed in and out deeply. ‘She may have done something similar before.’

  Mrs Niles sat down and took hold of her daughter’s hand again.

  ‘Mary love,’ she said, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen the photographs that were taken of you, or kept any evidence of the text threats?’

  Mentally, I prayed that Mary had, at the very least, retained some of the threatening texts, though I could understand if she’d deleted them. I was sure she would have deleted or destroyed any copies of the photos. I certainly would have.

  Mary looked nervously at her mother, possibly mindful of the import of her response.

  ‘It doesn’t matter if you got rid of it all, love,’ Mrs Niles reassured her. ‘I understand if you have.’

  For the first time a glimmer of a smile formed at the corners of Mary’s mouth.

  ‘Brianna emailed the photos to me. They’re still on my computer,’ she said.

  ‘What about the threats, the texts?’ I asked.

  ‘On my phone. At home.’

  ‘Good girl,’ her mother said.

  ‘There’s more, Mum,’ Mary whispered.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘They had a phony Myspace account, pretended to be a boy who liked me. For weeks I thought he was my friend. Then Brianna and the others started to make comments so that I’d know he didn’t exist and it was really them.’

  ‘Oh, love,’ her mother said. She stood, sat on the bed and put her arm around her daughter.

  ‘I thought he was my friend,’ Mary cried out, and she started to sob again. In between great gulps of air it was apparent that she was trying to tell us something else, but seemed unable to formulate the words.

  ‘What is it, Mary? Tell us,’ Mrs Niles pressed. She took hold of Mary’s shoulders and looked directly into her face. ‘Tell us, Mary!’

  Mary took a deep breath and put her hands over her eyes. ‘There’s a website—Kill Mary Inc.’

  Chapter 45

  I left Mrs Niles to settle Mary and waited for her outside the Intensive Care Unit. Harper was pacing up and down the corridor looking decidedly aggrieved.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ Harper asked. ‘I am Mary’s teacher, you know.’

  Technically she wasn’t as Mary had been expelled, but I let it go.

  ‘Let’s wait for Mrs Niles,’ I said. ‘She’ll be out in a minute.’

  Harper’s mobile rang, saving me from further interrogation, and she walked to the far end of the corridor to take the call. She was still talking when Mary’s mother emerged.

  ‘She’s resting,’ Mrs Niles told me. ‘The nurse has given her something. I think Mary’s incredibly relieved. It’s probably a little early to thank you, but I do appreciate what you’re doing.’

  I put my hand on her arm. ‘Mary’s a brave girl.’

  ‘I have to think through what to do about this,’ Mrs Niles said. ‘What Brianna and the others did to my daughter is unconscionable. It’s the photos that Mary’s worried about most. She doesn’t want those pictures shown to anyone, and I understand that. She’ll show me the text threats when she has her phone.’

  ‘Has Mary said anything about returning to school?’ I asked.

  ‘Surprisingly, she wants to go back to Tattings. She wants the bullying to stop and everything to be okay for Mr Arnold. She’s concerned about him.’

  ‘Tell her not to be as I’m pretty sure the matter’s being sorted.’

  ‘I’ll talk to the psychiatrist tomorrow,’ Mrs Niles said. ‘There’s something to work with now, and Mary will need more than my help to get through this. May I call you if she tells me any more?’

  I nodded and wrote my number on a post-it note and handed it to her. ‘Call me when you’ve decided what to do. I’ll help if I can.’

  Harper was walking towards us, holding out her phone. She wore the excited expression of someone about to impart news.

  ‘That was the principal,’ Harper said. ‘She’s just told me that a lawyer named Margo Mitchell and the mothers of Peony, Savannah and Kylie have made an appointment to see her tomorrow morning. Apparently the girls have something important to advise the school. More complaints about another teacher, I expect.’

  ‘It might not be,’ I said. ‘It could be that their conscience got the better of them after Mary tried to hurt herself.’

  Harper gave me a quizzical look. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Please, it’s fine to tell Mrs Blaine-Richardson,’ Mrs Niles said to me. ‘But I’d be grateful if we could keep all this to ourselves until I’ve decided what to do.’

  We adjourned to the waiting area and, between us, Mrs Niles and I relayed to Harper everything that Mary had told us.

  ‘Oh, the poor girl,’ Harper said. ‘Do you want the school’s IT person to contact the web host and organise removal of the website from the net?’

  ‘Please, that would be helpful, but make sure they keep a copy of it on disc, for evidence,’ Mrs Niles said. ‘Did you know that Brianna’s father wants Mary charged with criminal damage? I don’t know what to do.’

  I wasn’t surprised Brianna’s father wanted a charge laid against Mary. Brianna was a bully, and it seemed her father was too.

  ‘Mrs Niles,’ I said, ‘Mary is under sixteen and someone has taken compromising photos of her with her pants down and they have sent those pictures via email. Mr Berkelow might change his mind about pressing charges when he finds out that his own daughter has been distributing child pornography via the internet.’

  Harper and I were sitting in the car by the Broadwater at Southport eating the cheese rolls I’d made. There was only one fork and we shared it to eat the fruit salad.

  It was time for me to tell Harper everything, as this was all becoming so complicated that I was having trouble remembering who knew what. In between mouthfuls, I explained about Brianna Berkelow’s previous accusations against a male teacher at Heathlands, how she’d bullied other students into making support statements, and that it had been arranged for the Heathlands teacher to call Robert Arnold.

  ‘How did you find all this out? Harper asked.

  ‘I’m an experienced investigator,’ I said, grinning like an idiot.

  ‘Jeez, when you get hold of something you stick with it till it bleeds, don’t you?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Harper sighed. ‘Poor Mary. You know that her older sister has cerebral palsy, don’t you? Her life isn’t easy.’

  I nodded. ‘Mrs Niles is strong. She’ll get Mary through this.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll go to the police?’

  ‘Justice isn’t always served that way,’ I said. ‘Brianna is also a minor in the eyes of the law. And don’t forget that Mary doesn’t want anyone to see those pictures. Her wishes have to be respected.’

  ‘So, we wait to hear what Mrs Niles decides?’

  ‘That’d be the right thing to do,’ I said. ‘And you could find out what happens at the school meeting tomorrow with those girls, and if it’s about Mary, you tell Mrs Niles. She should have all the information available to help her make an informed decision.’

  ‘I can’t divulge school busin
ess,’ Harper said sharply.

  ‘This is about Mary, not the school,’ I reminded her.

  Harper nodded and looked apologetically at me. ‘Sometimes I have trouble keeping my eye on the ball.’

  I dug the Danish pastry out of the picnic bag and handed it to Harper.

  ‘Here,’ I said, ‘eat this and I’ll watch so I can enjoy it too.’

  Harper took the pastry. ‘Do you remember how I used to sit in front of you when we were kids and lick Mars Bars?’

  ‘I do,’ I said. ‘Children can be so cruel.’

  Chapter 46

  After dropping Harper home, I headed south on the Pacific Motorway. In the distance dark storm clouds were gathering over northern New South Wales. With luck, I’d be in Byron before they broke.

  Hardly conscious of the road, I couldn’t stop thinking about Mary and what had happened to her. How did a fourteen-year-old girl recover from such an invasion of privacy? The whole thing sickened me and I prayed the photographs hadn’t become general viewing.

  To cheer myself up I grabbed a CD and pushed it into the disc player, laughing aloud at the memory of when Fergus was three and looking for a place to ditch an unwanted Vegemite sandwich. I’d watched spellbound by his ingenuity as he’d flattened the sandwich and pushed it into the CD compartment of Harper’s new sound system. By the time Fergus is twenty-one, and the incident is regaled at his birthday party, Harper might have got over it.

  I sang along to James Taylor at the top of my voice, banishing demons, thinking happy thoughts, counting horses in paddocks and looking forward to seeing Chairman Meow and my apartment. It felt like I’d been away for days.

  My phone rang and I pulled over onto the shoulder to answer.

  ‘Scout, it’s Susie Cameron. The men have talked. My guy is flying up to Coolangatta on Monday. He told me that your man is organising a lawyer to meet with them.’

  ‘So far, so good,’ I said.

  ‘I feel happy about this, like we’ve beaten City Hall.’