Moments later, to his dismay, they rejoined him at the bar and ordered more drinks.
‘Once a winner, always a winner,’ Ginger said, winking at him. ‘I’d have treated you, mate, but I see you’ve got a fresh pint. You shouldn’t have rushed through that last one.’ He shook his head and tutted.
Mike clenched and unclenched his hands, breathing slowly to try to calm the seed of rage he could feel growing in his belly. He focused on the sight of Alan pouring two fresh pints of lager, but Ginger was still there, smirking at him in his peripheral vision.
Then Ratface’s voice cut through everything else, like a dagger in the gut. ‘Shit. I remember who you are now. You’re that psycho teacher. The one who attacked a pupil. You were all over the papers.’
‘No way,’ Ginger added. ‘I remember hearing about that. Was that really you?’
Mike didn’t answer. He could feel himself losing control and was fighting to stop it.
But of course Ginger wouldn’t let it lie. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? So how come you’re in here, drinking? Shouldn’t you be behind bars?’
Mike’s hands were locked into tight fists now, ready to strike. He was breathing fast and heavy.
‘I asked you a question,’ Ginger said.
‘Several questions in fact,’ Ratface chipped in. ‘And not one answer. That’s rude.’
‘You’re right,’ Ginger went on, starting up with the tutting again. ‘It is very rude indeed.’
‘What’s going on?’ Alan asked as he brought the two pints over, eyes darting from the idiots to Mike and back again.
‘Nothing, pal,’ Ratface said.
‘Yeah, just a bit of banter,’ Ginger added.
Alan looked to Mike for his take on the situation when the phone behind the bar started ringing. He went to answer it and got drawn into a heated discussion about some issue with a delayed delivery.
‘Edgar, can you keep an eye on the bar for a minute?’ he called over to his employee, who replied that he would while lugging the mop and bucket he’d used on the toilet floor into a storeroom. Alan disappeared into the back, amid talk of checking something in the cellar.
In the meantime, Ginger started up again. ‘It must be him. Otherwise he’d have denied it.’
‘Oh, it’s definitely him,’ Ratface said. ‘No doubt.’
‘So why did you do it? Why turn on a helpless little kid? Is it because he wouldn’t suck you off?’
The two of them burst out laughing at this – and Mike’s simmering rage, fuelled by the potent cocktail of pent-up frustration and alcohol, finally boiled over.
Everything that happened from then on was a blur. Ratface started saying something else, but to Mike it made no sense, as if his voice had been slowed down to a fraction of the usual speed. Like it was travelling through water.
Because the floodgates were open.
So he lunged.
And time was sluggish.
Until it wasn’t any more.
There was a sudden mad rush of shouting and swearing and flying fists and elbows and sweat and pain and then … Elliot.
CHAPTER 32
NOW
Wednesday, 25 July 2018
Chloe’s phone pinged. Her first temptation was to hurl it across the room, but she managed to stop herself. Instead, she levered her head up from her tear-soaked pillow and glanced at the screen to see who the message was from.
Saima.
She threw the mobile facedown back on to the bed.
But soon, devastated as she was, curiosity got the better of her. Maybe Saima wanted to confess to making the whole story up. Perhaps she was about to admit that she was the one behind the nasty texts after all, and she’d only said what she had in an attempt to get away with it.
She flicked on the screen.
How are you?
Stupid question, Chloe thought, tossing the phone away again. She was awful, obviously. What did Saima expect? Her so-called best friend had been bad-mouthing her behind her back; it also looked like Holly had been the one sending those horrible messages all along.
Things certainly hadn’t gone to plan when she’d visited Saima’s house that morning. Having convinced herself that she was the one behind the texts, Chloe had expected her to crumble when she turned up – or at least to look awkward and embarrassed, thus confirming her suspicions. Instead, Saima had welcomed her with a big hug and invited her in without question. Her mum had been equally friendly, offering her a drink and a snack; saying how they’d missed having her around the house.
‘It’s really great to see you,’ Saima said once they were alone upstairs – not a hint of guilt showing in her warm smile. ‘I’ve missed you.’
Chloe was tempted to point out that they’d seen each other less than a week ago, on the last day of term, but she knew what Saima meant. They hadn’t really talked to each other or spent any time together in ages. Not since Chloe had got friendly with Holly, who’d convinced her that Saima was dull and immature. The three of them had hung around together for a short while at the start of the school year. But the ‘two’s company, three’s a crowd’ saying had turned out to be pretty accurate, with Saima being the one to pay the price. They’d ghosted her, effectively, until she got the message that she was no longer wanted. Things had culminated in that one big row and, until today, they’d barely spoken since then.
It was nasty. It was cruel. Chloe knew that, which was why she’d become so convinced that Saima had been the one sending the texts. She had every reason to want to hurt Chloe. What better revenge than this?
But as she asked Saima the question, instantly darkening the room, she already knew the answer.
It wasn’t her.
Saima wasn’t like that.
Like them.
Like Chloe and Holly.
She didn’t bear grudges. She just missed her best friend, which was why Chloe also knew she wasn’t lying when she told her what she’d heard. It made sense when you had all the facts.
Chloe had known Saima for years at primary school. Holly, on the other hand, had only come on to the scene when they’d started at Waterside High last September. And as close as they’d become in that time, Chloe knew that her friend had a vindictive streak. Unfortunately, she’d seen how calculated Holly could be in exacting revenge against those she considered to have ‘dissed’ her or let her down in some way. Chloe had seen her turn on girls she’d known for years, starting nasty rumours about them, for instance. In one especially memorable case, she’d put posters up around the village proclaiming that an ex-friend of hers was a ‘back-stabbing bitch’. Somehow, though, she had a persuasive way of making such actions seem normal – even justified – to those still on her side.
Now that Chloe had had her eyes opened, she realised that the nasty text messages had Holly’s fingerprints all over them. How had she not seen it sooner? Well, for one thing, she’d never before been on the receiving end of Holly’s wrath. Plus she hadn’t given away any clue about being annoyed with her.
Lying on her bed in the present, she picked up her phone. Saima had asked how she was doing.
C: Not great.
S: What are you going to do?
C: I’m not sure. I haven’t told her yet that I know.
S: I really am sorry. It sucks to be the messenger. I’m here for you. You know she’s a total bitch, right? That’s not you, Chloe. She just sucked you in with her BS.
This last comment surprised Chloe a little. It served as a reminder that Saima had a lot more going for her than Holly would like people to think. She was whip-smart and had a real edge to her personality that she only shared with those who knew her best. Her judgment was usually spot-on.
But Chloe needed to talk to someone else about it: someone, unlike Saima, who wasn’t twisted up in the whole nasty mess.
Curiously, there was one person who immediately sprang to mind: Elliot.
CHAPTER 33
THEN
Saturday, 6 July 1996
People had been talking about it for weeks: Aidan Bloor’s sixteenth birthday bash. And yet Lisa had never heard of Aidan before news of the do reached Queen Anne’s.
He was in their year, but Elliot barely knew him either.
‘He’s not in my form and I’ve never had any classes with him,’ he’d told her. ‘Since announcing this party, Aidan’s gone from being nobody to the most talked about boy in school. It’s not even his birthday. That was in May, apparently.’
It was an open invite – everyone welcome.
‘Are you going?’ Lisa had asked El.
‘Yeah, I’m staying at Neil’s, which is nearby. What about you?’
‘I’ll see if I can stay at Hayley’s.’
It was a miracle that Aidan’s parents hadn’t found out what he was planning. They were in Italy for a fortnight, Lisa had heard. His grandparents had moved in to look after him. But this weekend they had a trip of their own planned to London, meaning he was home alone.
The house was massive. It was a three-storey Victorian mansion in one of Westwich’s most desirable neighbourhoods, with large walled gardens front and rear.
As she approached it, Lisa wondered what the hell Aidan was thinking. Why invite so many kids to such a fancy place? There was bound to be lots of underage drinking going on – hardly a good combination. As it happened, Lisa was on antibiotics for a bladder infection that had only recently started to clear up, so she was steering clear of alcohol. She had considered dropping out, but such a buzz had built up around this party, she couldn’t bring herself to miss it.
Plus there was a boy she was hoping to see. Jake Prentice was a sprinter on the King George’s athletics team. He was in her year but had only joined the school in January. He’d previously lived in Hertfordshire, but his family had relocated due to his dad’s job: something Lisa understood from her own experience of moving.
It was this subject that had sparked their first conversation, at an athletics meet a couple of weeks earlier, and they’d spoken by phone several times since. She felt a flutter in her stomach every time she thought about him, with his mischievous grin, high cheekbones and piercing gaze. She’d also had the pleasure of seeing him with his top off after he’d won his last race.
She entered the house with Hayley and two other girls from her class. Aidan opened the door. Eyes glazed with cider, judging by the bottle in his grip, he made a show of welcoming them, kissing each of their hands and proclaiming how beautiful they looked.
At that stage, before it got busy, Lisa noted how immaculate everything looked, from the well-appointed kitchen to the luxurious cream lounge carpet.
A couple of hours later, by which time the front door had been wedged open and the party had spilled over on to the front and rear lawns, Aidan was like a different boy. He was tearing around, from one mishap to the next, pulling his hair out as he realised how quickly things had spiralled out of control.
He was still drunk. That was obvious from the way he was slurring his words and flailing his arms around, having a go at people.
‘Someone’s going to end up punching him in the face,’ Hayley said, sipping on a bottle of Hooch in the kitchen and then cheering as “Roll with It” by Oasis thundered on to the stereo.
‘What did he expect?’ Lisa shouted into Hayley’s ear. ‘Of course people are going to spill things and be sick in the bathroom. It’s a party.’
Not that Lisa had attended a party quite like this before. It reminded her of something out of an American movie: one of those high school comedies from the eighties like Teen Wolf or Pretty in Pink. There might not have been any kegs of beer, but there was plenty of lager, cider and alcopops.
It was weird, in her sober state, seeing the others inebriated. She’d only briefly spoken to Elliot so far, but he’d arrived with a pack of beer. From the loud, confident way he’d been talking, she assumed he’d had some on the way.
As for Jake, who’d said he was looking forward to seeing her here, she’d not run into him yet.
‘I’m going for a wander,’ she told Hayley. ‘You coming?’
She shook her head, nodding towards an indie kid by the stereo and puckering her lips.
Entering the lounge, where a different stereo was pumping out the electronic sound of The Chemical Brothers, Lisa winced at a large pinkish red stain in the cream carpet, which someone – surely Aidan – had covered in salt. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to see Neil Walsh smiling at her. ‘Don’t worry, Lisa. It’s not blood. Someone thought it would be funny to open a bottle of Aidan’s dad’s best wine. That happened as he tried to wrestle it off them.’
She and Neil had remained friends after their brief relationship had fizzled out. This was no doubt partly because of Elliot. Plus, more than three and a half years had passed since then. It was ancient history.
Ducking her head and looking furtively from side to side, Lisa mocked: ‘Our host isn’t in here any more, is he? Last time I spotted him, he seemed ready to blow a gasket.’
Neil laughed. ‘No, the coast is clear for now. He’s probably relocating the rest of the wine to a top secret location.’
‘Is Aidan a friend of yours?’
‘I hardly know him, to be honest.’
‘That’s what Elliot said.’
‘Yeah, neither of us has any lessons with him. He’s usually a quiet guy who keeps himself to himself. I know it’s his house and everything, but he arranged the party. You’d think we’d all turned up unannounced by the way he’s acting.’
‘Where is El?’
‘Drowning his sorrows in the back garden.’
‘What do you mean?’
Neil grimaced. ‘Hasn’t he told you yet? Claire broke up with him today.’
‘You’re joking! How come?’
‘She took him to one side at that outdoor club they go to and said she’d started seeing another lad from where she lives. He’s gutted, obviously.’
‘Nightmare. I’d better find him.’
‘How about a quick drink first? I like your outfit. Brings out your eyes.’
‘What, my jeans and band T-shirt?’ She nudged him with her elbow. ‘I see you’re still a shameless flirt. Better save it for someone who’s not an ex.’
Lisa had kept her outfit simple, despite wanting to impress Jake. She had the feeling that playing it cool, like they were good mates, was the best way to get him interested. So she hadn’t called him last night either, despite saying she would. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t spent ages fixing her make-up and getting her hair just right in pigtail plaits. Plus she knew how much her tight T-shirt emphasised her bust. Neil had barely looked anywhere else.
She headed to the garden to find Elliot, hoping to bump into Jake on the way.
As she walked through the hallway, which was littered with crisp packets, plastic cups and empty cans, a cupboard door under the staircase swung open into her path.
‘Careful!’ she said, coming face to face with a wild-eyed Aidan. ‘Oh, it’s you. What are you doing in there?’
‘Please don’t say anything,’ he whispered, squinting anxiously at a queue of people outside the nearby toilet. ‘I was hiding some stuff in the cellar, but I don’t want anyone to know.’
‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
‘Have we met before? You look familiar.’
‘You let me in earlier. It’s Lisa.’
He nodded. ‘You’re not looking for somewhere to throw up, are you? Please go outside, if you are.’
Before Lisa could reply, his attention was diverted by the sound of another boy calling his name as he ran down the stairs. ‘Where are you, Aidan? You need to see this. There’s a group of lads from Westwich High turned up at the top of the drive.’
All remnants of colour drained from Aidan’s face at this latest bombshell.
‘I’d better let you go,’ Lisa
muttered. She felt guilty as she shuffled away, but what else was she supposed to do?
The spacious back garden was dominated by a well-manicured lawn. This was occupied by various groups of kids sitting in circles, drinking, smoking, chatting and laughing. There were several couples sitting apart from the rest, getting to know each other with their lips interlocked.
A path of stone slabs wound its way through the middle to an oval fish pond and, beyond, a large shed and greenhouse. One of Aidan’s parents was obviously a keen gardener, Lisa thought, remembering another small, wood-framed greenhouse at the front, next to the driveway.
The high perimeter walls were flanked with an array of shrubs, flowers and small trees. But it was a larger tree near the rear of the garden to which Lisa’s eyes were drawn, as she spotted the unmistakeable figure of Elliot sprawled across a broad lower branch, knocking back another can of beer. He’d announced a couple of months ago that he was growing his hair long, but being so curly, this was a slow process. It looked like there was a dense black cloud hovering over his head.
She walked to the foot of the tree and called up to her friend. ‘What’s going on?’
El peered down at her, eyes red and unfocused, before taking another swig from his can, half of it spilling down his chin and neck. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he spluttered, sitting up and wiping away the excess beer with one hand.
‘Hi. I hear that alcohol and tree climbing aren’t considered a good combination.’
‘It looked like a nice place to chill,’ Elliot slurred, running a hand through his thick mop of hair.
‘Better than the grass?’
‘Less people.’
Elliot rummaged around in a pocket of his jeans before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sticking one in his mouth.
‘Since when do you smoke?’
‘Since now. They help with weight loss, you know. Added bonus.’ He searched several more pockets until he pulled out a plastic green lighter.
‘They also kill you, El.’
‘Hmm.’ He lit the cigarette, took a drag, coughed and jerked backwards, like he was about to fall. Lisa’s heart was in her mouth.
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