Too Close to Home

by Susan Lewis

  “But not impossible?”

  Instead of answering, he said, “We need to take one step at a time. First we must fully ascertain what chance there is of satisfying the contributors.”

  “But even if we could do that, how can we be sure it would stop them going to the police? I’m thinking of how crushed their hopes are going to be, and how angry, or vengeful, that might make some of them.”

  “It’s true, you might well have to contend with some mighty Welsh wrath, but if we can show that they’ve been completely reimbursed, with an accompanying letter of profound and sincere apology, I doubt the CPS will want to use up valuable resources to take it any further.”

  “But first we have to find a way of repaying it.”

  Since it wasn’t a question, he didn’t answer, but simply sat quietly watching her with an expression she found hard to read, although nothing in his manner suggested he was thinking the worst of her or considering what he himself could suggest.

  “If there isn’t already a mortgage on the house,” she said, “then that would be one way of raising…Except neither of us has an income, so no one’s going to lend us any money.”

  Acknowledging that with a nod, he said, “Is there a relative who might be willing to help out?”

  She felt her hands clenching together as she thought of her mother, but there was no way in the world she could turn to her. She’d done so much for them already, and it wasn’t even as if she had very much. Hanna did, of course, but she was afraid Hanna might rather see Jack in prison than offer a single cent to save his skin. Besides, she and Kay were already covering the cost of the lawyer, and Jenna still had no idea how she was going to pay them back for that. Once her fifteen thousand pounds ran out, which would be in a matter of months, perhaps a year if she was careful, she was too afraid even to think of what she and the children were going to do—or where Jack might be by then.

  “My husband has a brother,” she said hoarsely. “Maybe he could speak to him.” She looked at Richard again and this time felt only relief that he was there, quietly supporting, advising, and not appearing in any way overly anxious. “I’m sure you must have a very dim view of my husband by now,” she commented.

  Though he didn’t deny it, what he said was, “It’s very easy to make mistakes, but not always so easy to put them right.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? “My sister thinks his extreme behavior, as she puts it, is evidence of some sort of personality disorder.”

  His eyebrows rose. “And what do you think?”

  With a certain wryness she replied, “I’ve seen enough friends go through this kind of breakup to know that saying your husband’s off his head or experiencing some kind of midlife crisis is pretty standard. I suppose it provides something to hold on to, a kind of hope that allows you to think he’ll get over it or seek some sort of help that’ll guide him back to the fold. The only trouble is that if a man actually leaves his wife for another woman, he almost never comes back.”

  Realizing how close she suddenly was to tears, she quickly got up to spare them both the embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at the clock, “I didn’t realize how late it was. He should be here any minute with the children.”

  “In which case,” he said, getting to his feet, “I should be going.”

  She was glad he didn’t add that Jack finding him here would be awkward all round. They both knew that, anyway.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said, walking him to the door. “You’ve made the situation very clear, so all I have to decide now is what I’m going to do next.”

  “Call me when you’re ready,” he replied, “but you probably shouldn’t leave it too long.”

  —

  “Who was that I just saw driving out of here?” Jack asked as he came in the door a few minutes later.

  Jenna didn’t look up from washing Wills’s face. “His name’s Richard Pryce,” she replied evenly. “You received a letter from him.”

  “You mean the lawyer you…So what was he doing here?”

  “Outlining my options. Wills, hold still.”

  “But you’re hurting me.”

  “Well, if you will get ink all over you…”

  “Josh did it, not me.”

  “Dad! Dad!” Flora cried, bursting into the kitchen. “We’ve got to make Mother’s Day cards for Mummy at school and Miss Saunders said we need to take in some glue and sparkles.”

  “You’re not supposed to ask him in front of Mummy,” Wills exclaimed. “You’ve spoiled the surprise now.”

  Flora’s eyes rounded with concern.

  Jenna smiled. “Don’t worry, I knew it was coming up,” she told her, “and I’m sure Grandma will take you to buy everything you need.”

  “It’s OK, I’ll take them,” Jack interjected brusquely.

  Not arguing, Jenna reached for a towel and treated Wills to a giant smackeroo as she dried him.

  “You’re so sloppy,” Wills complained. “Girls are really sloppy, aren’t they, Dad?”

  Grabbing Flora, Jack said, “Yes, but we wouldn’t have them any other way, would we?”

  “Stop, stop!” Flora protested. “You’re scratching me. Daddy! You need a shave.”

  Setting her down, he watched her and Wills rush off to their video games, or TV programs, or whatever they had planned before bathtime. Then, closing the door, he turned back to Jenna.

  Before he could say anything, she said, “Paige has a new art project. I think you should offer to help with it.”

  “I would if I thought she’d let me.”

  “You can at least try asking.”

  “Is she here?”

  “In her room, as usual.”

  “Then I’ll go up when we’ve finished here.”

  Jenna was picking up discarded boots, bags, and coats. She had no desire to discuss anything with him right now, but as Richard had reminded her when he was leaving, time wasn’t on their side. So, coming straight to the point, she said, “The only way we’re going to avoid prosecution is if we repay every last penny that you charged for services you had no intention of providing.”

  His face immediately darkened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I told you there are marketing strategies—”

  “That don’t actually exist. The auditor’s been through your computer and found no evidence of a package of any sort that you could provide in return for the writers’ investments. That’s fraud, Jack, plain and simple.”

  “Just because the information isn’t on my computer doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

  “Then where is it?”

  “On the computers in Martha’s office. Her team have been drawing up—”

  “I’m not listening to this. You’ve played me for a fool for far too long, and it’s going to stop. If those packages existed, if they were legitimate or even viable, they would have been sent to the writers by now.”

  “And how do you know they haven’t?”

  “Because you’re being bombarded with emails asking when they can see a finalized version of the bullshit you sent them in the first place. What the hell were you thinking? ‘National media coverage, newspaper serialization, worldwide exposure…’ I can only wonder that they were stupid enough to believe it, but then again, I of all people know how convincing you can be. Well, you’re going to have to be pretty convincing now if you don’t want to end up in court.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  “No, it won’t, as long as we pay the money back. I don’t have the funds to cover it, and you’re saying you don’t either, so you’ll have to borrow it. Please tell me you haven’t already mortgaged the house.”

  “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.”

  Her blood ran cold. “Jack, have you…?”

  “No! I have not mortgaged the house.”

  Needing to believe him, at least for now, she said, “Then there’s a chance you could—”

  “I’ve just told you, the mark
eting plans are in place.”

  “Then show me. Get them up on the computer right now and let me see what you’re offering for an investment of up to seven thousand pounds that’s ready to go live on the website.”

  “They’re still finalizing things.”

  “And you’re still stalling. Face it, Jack, you’ve created a situation you don’t know how to get out of, so I’m trying to do it for you, but you have to help me. We need close to thirty thousand pounds within the next couple of weeks or the police are going to be knocking at this door. For all I know they’ll end up coming anyway, but Richard, the lawyer, is doing his best to prevent that from happening.”

  “By getting us to pay back money we don’t have. Great plan! And there’s no point talking about a mortgage, because I’ve already tried and got turned down.”

  Torn between relief and outrage that he’d gone behind her back, she said, “Then we—you—have to find another way to come up with it.”

  He glared at her furiously.

  “You’re the one who got us into this,” she pointed out.

  “Maybe your mother would like—”

  “Stop right there,” she seethed. “Hell will freeze over before you’ll get me to ask for her help. This is your problem, Jack. You created it, and it’s up to you to get yourself out of it. Maybe you can talk to your brother, or perhaps your girlfriend won’t see thirty grand as too high a price to pay for keeping her lover in her bed.”

  Clearly bursting with rage, he snatched his keys from the worktop and leaned in toward her menacingly. “I can see there’s no reasoning with you. You’ve got all this crap stuck in your head.”

  “Prove to me it’s crap and we might get somewhere.”

  He turned away. “You just keep telling yourself your little stories, and with any luck you might find one good enough to send in to your publisher.”

  Grabbing the nearest thing to hand, she flung it at him, and watched a blackcurrant juice carton explode all over his face. “I’ll tell the children you had urgent business,” she spat. “Now get the hell out of here before I end up doing something I actually regret.”

  Paige grunted as her head hit the wall so hard she saw stars.

  She was in the girls’ toilets being held by her hair and arms as Kelly Durham, Bethany Gates, and Matilda Watts took turns to slap her face and punch her. She was crying and begging them to stop, but they were having far too much fun to break off anytime soon.

  “I served a fucking detention for you,” Kelly snarled. “Now say you’re sorry and lick my shoes.”

  “Please leave me alone,” Paige sobbed. “I’m sorry about the detention…”

  “Lick my fucking shoes,” Kelly barked.

  Matilda jabbed her head toward Kelly’s feet.

  “I know, let’s stick her head down the bog,” Bethany suggested excitedly.

  “Brilliant,” Kelly declared.

  “Yeah, but one of us ought to pee first,” Matilda piped up.

  Kelly snickered. “Let that be me,” she decided, and disappeared into a cubicle.

  Minutes later Paige was gagging and choking as they forced her to drink from the bottom of the bowl. Someone pulled the flush and water gushed over her head.

  “Please, please, no more,” she gasped, struggling for air.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Kelly spat. “We don’t want to hear your whining.”

  “We ought to drown her,” Matilda cried eagerly.

  “Ssh, someone’s coming,” Bethany hissed.

  Charlotte appeared in the doorway, and when she saw what was happening her face turned white with shock. “What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, rushing to Paige. “Get away from her. Get away now or I’m going straight to Mr. Charles.” As she pulled Paige back from the loo the Durmites began melting away, muttering a warning to Charlotte that she’d get the same treatment if she didn’t start minding her own business.

  “Are you all right?” Charlotte asked anxiously, helping Paige to her feet. “I was looking for you, and someone said they saw you come in here. They are such fucking bitches. I want to kill every one of them.”

  Paige was still gagging and panting as she splashed clean water over her face, not caring about her makeup, just desperate to get the stench of urine out of her mouth and nose. “I didn’t realize they were in here,” she sobbed. “As soon as I did I tried to get out again, but they grabbed me and they…and they…”

  “It’s all right,” Charlotte said, trying to soothe her. She tugged paper towels from the holder to help dry her hair. “You’re OK now, and we’re going straight back to Miss—”

  “No!” Paige pleaded. “That’s why they did this, to punish me for going to her in the first place.”

  Charlotte regarded her helplessly. She couldn’t argue, because Paige was right: going to Miss Kendrick had definitely made things worse. They’d never attacked Paige physically before, and the messages she was receiving now were so gross and hateful it was no wonder Paige was getting into such a state over them. At least Charlotte and Paige were friends again after that stupid falling-out over Charlotte speaking to the Durmites, or Paige would have no one.

  “Here,” she said gently, passing Paige more paper towels. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”

  Paige didn’t respond. Why bother pointing out that nothing ever would be all right again when Charlotte didn’t understand what it was like to be Kelly Durham’s victim or to have her dad walk out and her mum fall apart? Charlotte’s life was so totally different, with her together parents, her boyfriend, her freedom to move about the school any way she wanted to, that Paige could only imagine how lovely it was to be her.

  “Come on, we’re already late,” Charlotte said, looking anxiously at Paige’s hair. “Do you have a scrunchie or something to tie it up with?”

  Paige shook her head.

  Charlotte didn’t have one either. “You’ll have to plait it,” she decided.

  “We don’t have time.”

  “Do it as we go.”

  A few minutes later they crept quietly into their geography class, where Mrs. Spinetti was already handing out last week’s homework. “You’re late,” she barked. “You know I don’t tolerate…Paige, why is your hair wet? It’s not raining.”

  Paige’s heart hammered as she tried to think what to say. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, especially Kelly Durham’s, daring her to cough out the truth. “I—um, I spilled something on it,” she mumbled. “Some paint, so I had to wash it out.”

  “Actually, miss—” Charlotte began.

  The teacher wasn’t listening. “Well, we can’t have you sitting here dripping all over the place. Go and see the nurse, get yourself sorted out.”

  Leaving the class, Paige returned to the girls’ toilets, where she carried on drying her hair with paper towels before going to her locker and taking out her coat. She felt sick to her very core, so wretched, ugly, and hated that she wished she could just disappear and never have to see herself or anyone else ever again.

  A letter fell from her locker, and she stooped to pick it up. Seeing her name in cut-out newsprint letters on the front, she felt herself choking with misery again, and she stuffed the letter in her pocket.

  They were never going to leave her alone. This was never going to end, and she couldn’t stand it.

  She wasn’t really sure where she was going now; she just had to get away from here. And if she ended up being run over by a bus somewhere out on the Bryn, or murdered by some pervert who might be hanging around in his creepy van, she really wouldn’t care one bit.

  —

  Jenna was pulling into the drive with Josh and the twins in the back of the car when her mobile rang. Seeing it was Charlotte, she turned off the engine and clicked on.

  “Mrs. Moore? Jenna?” Charlotte said urgently. “Is Paige with you? I’ve been trying to get hold of her.”

  “No, I don’t think she’s home yet,” Jenna replied. “I guess you’ve tried ringing her?
”

  “Yes, but her phone must be out of battery. Never mind, I’ll try Hayley to see if she’s with her.”

  Not sure if she should be worried, Jenna rang off and opened the back doors for the children to spill out and run into the house. They’d have to go out again in a quarter of an hour to get Josh to athletics, Wills to rugby, and Flora to dance. However, there should be enough time for them to wolf down some cereal and dash to the toilet while she sorted out the various kits and leotards they needed to change into.

  To her relief, when she followed them into the kitchen she saw that her mother had dropped off a pile of ironing. However, to her dismay not a single item that she needed right now was amongst it, which probably meant it was either in the wash, on a floor somewhere, or stuffed in the bottom of a bag.

  Leaving them to help themselves to Cheerios, she set off in search of whatever she could find, and came to a sudden stop when she realized Waffle hadn’t leapt all over them as they’d come in. She was about to call him when she heard the thump of his tail on the landing.

  She found him lying outside Paige’s door, looking pleased to see her but apparently not inclined to move.

  “Hello, sweetie,” she whispered, going to smooth him. “Is she in there?”

  His mouth parted in a sort of grin as he wagged his tail again.

  “Paige?” she called out, knocking on the door.

  No reply.

  “Paige? Can I come in?”

  When there was still no answer she gingerly pushed open the door and peered inside. Paige was lying on her bed facing the wall with her coat and boots still on.

  “Are you asleep?” she whispered, going to her.

  It seemed she was, because she didn’t move as Jenna sat on the bed and reached round to feel her forehead. She didn’t seem to have a temperature, but she’d been working hard lately, so she was probably just exhausted.

  After fetching a small duvet from the linen cupboard to cover her, Jenna said, “I’ll be back by six. There’s plenty in the fridge if you want something to eat, or Grandma should be home by five if you want to go and see her.”

  She waited, but there was still no response. Since she had no choice but to leave her if she was going to get the others ready in time, she tiptoed out again and ran downstairs to break up a fight.