Too Close to Home

by Susan Lewis

  “Let him deal with the blowback,” she declared, pushing send triumphantly as she forwarded yet another email. “If this mightily pissed-off Taffy with his marvelous gift for invective doesn’t spoil his day, then I’m sure we’ll be able to follow it up with an even more devastating tirade from someone who can.”

  Jack and Martha were a couple about town now, having been photographed coming and going from two different functions this week, though the local press weren’t kind to them. No one, it seemed, had respect for a man who’d abandon a wife and four children, nor did they approve of the woman who’d lured him away. Whether the negative publicity was having any effect on them or on Martha’s business, only they knew, but it had elicited a great deal of sympathy for Jenna. She was receiving no end of phone calls from people she hardly knew asking if they could do anything to help, or inviting her for coffee, or lunch, or simply a walk on the beach if she felt like getting out for a while.

  In fact, she only went out now to ferry the children around or to exercise Waffle. With spring under way, part of the beach at Port Eynon had been closed to dogs, so she’d taken to driving him over to Oxwich, where she was less likely to run into someone she knew. However, Waffle was much given to making friends, which he promptly did with another retriever, who turned out to be Richard’s dog, Jasper. Apparently the beach over at Caswell was also a dog-free zone until after the summer, so Richard too had taken to driving to Oxwich—though Jenna had to admit to being surprised to find him there at ten-thirty on a Thursday morning. It was, he’d explained, the anniversary of his wife’s death, so he’d decided not to go into the office that day.

  They’d ended up walking together as the dogs chased each other in and out of the waves and the wind swept gently over the dunes. He’d talked openly and tenderly about the woman he still missed every day, and her struggle with the cancer that had finally claimed her. He’d told her about his sons and how proud he was of them, when he wasn’t exasperated or worried or wondering what the heck one or the other of them would get up to next. For Jenna it was a relief not to have to talk about anything; she simply listened to the details of someone else’s life and felt for his loss while admiring how he was getting through it. Though she wasn’t proud of it, she couldn’t stop herself wishing Jack had died; at least then her memories would be intact and she wouldn’t constantly have to be dealing with the engulfing cruelty of rejection. There were even times, usually during the darkest, bleakest hours of the night, when she fantasized about killing him, or Martha, or both. It happened in these situations—the courts were full of such cases—and she could completely understand why.

  The next time she ran into Richard walking his dog had been this morning, and they’d ended up wandering off the beach into the Oxwich Bay Hotel for a coffee. The staff there clearly knew him, and offered as warm a welcome to Waffle and Jasper as they did to their human guests. It was a place full of memories for them both. Jack had brought Jenna here on their last anniversary, and Paige had chosen it for her most recent special time with both parents. Apparently Richard and his wife had stayed here on several occasions over the years as well, using it as a romantic getaway when pressures of time wouldn’t allow them to travel far.

  Though they’d made an arrangement to meet up again next Sunday, Jenna had rung him earlier after receiving a call from the police. Apparently one of the contributors had decided that a full refund and apology just didn’t hack it when it came to the decimation of her dreams. She’d truly believed in Celticulture’s promises to publish and market her on a national, even global scale, and now she wanted to make sure that they suffered the consequences of their deceit.

  “Don’t worry,” Richard had responded calmly. “Just tell me who you spoke to and I’ll take it from here.”

  After passing on the officer’s name, she’d said, “I’m really sorry. I guess it was naive to think it would all just go away and get forgotten.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with hoping it might, but you know what Congreve said about hell having no fury like a woman scorned, and this woman’s Welsh, remember, so it’s quite possible she makes a career out of proving Congreve right.”

  Jenna had smiled. “That doesn’t sound like any of the Welsh women I know.”

  “Take it from someone whose grandmothers, mother, aunts, sisters, and female cousins are all Welsh—they’re not someone you’d want to be on the wrong side of. Anyway, I’ll call one of my friendlier contacts at police HQ in Bridgend. I don’t think there’ll be too much trouble making this disappear, given the full reimbursement and apology. There just isn’t the time or manpower to follow up on something that’s essentially been resolved.”

  “Should I tell Jack about it?” she asked. “Actually, I think I will. In fact, before you make that call, why don’t we give the perpetrator of this crime the opportunity to do something for the wronged woman himself?”

  With a smile in his voice, Richard said, “It’s your decision, but if I were you I’d want to know it was sorted out.”

  “I do, but I still think Jack has got away with too much already.”

  “Indeed he has, but in my opinion you don’t need this hanging over you any longer than it has to.”

  Accepting that he was right, she agreed to let him make the call to his contact while she rang Jack. When he didn’t pick up she left a message on his voicemail saying that she hoped it wouldn’t affect his upcoming trip to the States, but the police had been in touch and she’d given them his number, so he probably ought to be prepared for further enquiries.

  “Why did you give them my number?” he demanded when he rang straight back. “What are you trying to do?”

  “I’m not trying to do anything. I was simply pointing the police in the direction of the person who committed the fraud.”

  “And that’s what you said, was it? That I committed the fraud?”

  “Not in those exact words, but we both know it was you, so we don’t have to pretend with each other.”

  After a short, furious pause, he said, “You need to get over it.”

  Her temper instantly flared. “What I need is for you to own up to what you really are: a liar, a cheat, an adulterer, a fraudster. I just wish to God you weren’t the father of my children, because they really don’t deserve someone as lowdown and worthless as you.”

  The line had gone dead at that point and he hadn’t rung back, although he had texted to ask for the police officer’s name. She hadn’t replied yet and she probably wouldn’t bother. Let him sweat, let him suffer, let him get worked up into a state of abject panic over what his future might be, the way she did over hers.

  If only revenge made her feel better, provided even some momentary relief, but it rarely did. Indeed, it could end up making her feel worse.

  Was anything ever going to make her feel better?

  —

  It was Sunday morning, and Charlotte was shouting angrily at Paige over FaceTime. “Yes, I’ve seen the posts this morning. They’re horrible! Sick! Which is why you have to tell your mum. If you don’t, I’ll tell mine.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “So you want this to carry on?”

  “My mum’s not in a good place.”

  “I get that, but it’s not your fault.”

  “I’m not saying it is, but if you tell your mum what’s happening to me I’ll tell her what you did with Liam last night.”

  Charlotte’s face turned white. “You bitch,” she hissed. “I told you that in confidence.”

  “If you want your mum to know you’re not a virgin anymore…”

  Charlotte gasped. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “I might ask you the same question. You said you saw the posts this morning, and you’re the only one who knows about Julie. I’ve never told anyone else.”

  “So it’s obvious, isn’t it? She posted them herself.”

  “She says she didn’t.”

  “And you believe her rather than me?
Jesus Christ, Paige, I thought I was supposed to be your best friend.”

  “So did I, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “In that case, you can just fuck off. No way am I standing up for you in the future. You’re on your own with the Durmites. And perhaps they’re right about you—you are a loser and maybe your dad did leave home because of you.”

  As the screen went blank Paige jabbed off her own connection and clasped her hands to her face. Julie wasn’t online now; she’d had to break off a few minutes ago, but she’d promised to come back as soon as she could. She’d been as shocked as Paige when the latest posts had gone up, and Paige really couldn’t see that she’d have written them herself.

  Paige No Moore is a lezzie who drinks piss and has sex with her father. She hangs round girls’ loos drinking from the bowl if they don’t flush. She’s especially into her friend Julie’s piss who…

  Paige couldn’t read any more. It had been bad enough the first time; looking at it again would only make it worse, if it could actually get any worse, and she was finding that hard to imagine. She desperately wanted to deny it, to say what had really happened in the girls’ loos that day, but knew that if she did they’d manage to twist everything she said into meaning something else. Or they’d bring up about her dad again, or the letter someone had stuffed in her locker that she’d forgotten about until last night.

  She still had it, even though she knew she should have thrown it away as soon as she’d realized what it was. In case she’d been in any doubt they’d put a note in with it: This razor blade is for you. You know what to do with it.

  The reason she hadn’t got rid of it was because she was starting to think that maybe this was the only way she could make it stop. Everything was so horrible in her life that there seemed no point to it anymore. The Durmites were just going to go on and on bullying her, her dad was never coming back, her mum was too sad and too busy with the younger ones even to notice what was happening to her. And now Charlotte had told someone about Julie, which went to show that Charlotte had probably never been on her side anyway. She’d just pretended to be so she could get information out of her to pass on to the Durmites. The only person she could really trust was Julie, who’d been through this herself, but look how she was living now, behind an alias, too scared to let anyone know who she was or what she was doing in case the Durmites picked on her again.

  I know how you’re feeling, Julie wrote when she came back online. It’s just the worst. I wanted to kill myself too. Still do if I’m being honest.

  Did they send you a razor blade?

  Yes. I’ve still got it even, not that I’m going to use it. I thought I’d jump off a cliff, or just walk out into the sea.

  What stops you?

  I’m not sure really. I suppose I don’t have the courage.

  Paige wondered if she herself did and decided probably not, though she wished she did.

  There are some websites you can go on that tell you all the different ways to do it, Julie continued. I can send you some links if you like.

  OK.

  You won’t do anything without telling me, though, will you?

  No, of course not. Is it going to make it seem like they’ve won?

  They always win. That’s the trouble. No one can stop them, not even the police. Did they put a note in with your razor blade?

  Yes.

  What did it say?

  Paige typed it in.

  That’s what they said to me. Do you realize if they’re ever questioned about it they’ll just say they were telling you to shave your legs or under your arms?

  Seeing how that would get them off the hook, Paige replied with, I expect they’ve got answers for everything.

  Definitely. That’s why I said they always win. I can’t have a proper life anymore, and it’s all because of them. You end up living in the shadows, afraid to talk to anyone, or to be yourself.

  That’s how I feel.

  I’ll send you those links.

  The safety net should have been around the trampoline. Jack had promised to do it the last time he’d come, but had ended up forgetting, and Jenna hadn’t reminded him.

  The first she knew of the accident was when all three younger children started to scream from the garden. She hadn’t even realized they were out there, had thought they were upstairs cleaning their teeth before school, but somehow they’d slipped past her, and now disaster had struck.

  While her mother whisked the twins off to school, Jenna gathered Josh up and drove like a maniac to the emergency room.

  After a two-hour wait it turned out he’d broken his arm, which actually seemed to delight him, since the instant he was back in the car he’d got Jenna to take a photo of him and his cast to send to Paige and to Bena’s son, Aiden.

  Jenna hadn’t called Jack to tell him to come to the hospital because he was already in the States. He and Martha had left on Thursday and weren’t due back until after the Easter holidays. Jenna bitterly regretted not making him tell the children himself that he was going. If he had, he’d have seen their faces for himself, and would surely never have been able to enjoy his time away.

  “Why can’t we go too?” Flora had asked, looking as hurt and confused as the other two.

  “He promised us we could one day,” Wills reminded her.

  “He said we’d go to Disneyland and the Harry Potter park,” Josh said brokenly.

  “He’s mean not taking us.”

  “He shouldn’t break promises.”

  “Shall we ring him up and make sure he doesn’t want us to come?”

  It had been a horribly difficult evening that had ended up with them all sleeping in her bed as a special treat.

  What Paige thought of her dad going to America for almost a month only Paige knew, because she’d simply walked off when she’d heard the news, and Jenna hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to her since.

  Reaching for her mobile as it rang, she saw it was Hanna and clicked on.

  “Hi, how are you?” Hanna asked. “More to the point, how’s the wounded soldier?”

  “He seems fine, apart from the fact that he’s not thrilled about me having to do just about everything for him, and I can’t say I’m particularly thrilled about it either.”

  “As if you don’t have enough to cope with. Where is he now?”

  “Upstairs trying to play left-handed on his computer. He wanted to go to school until I reminded him that he’d need help going to the loo.”

  “Poor thing. Get him to Skype me later so I can see his cast.”

  “He’ll like that.”

  “So when are you next walking with Richard?”

  “We don’t have an arrangement. Hanna, I hope you’re not making something—”

  “I promise I’m not. I’m just happy that you’re getting out once in a while without the children, and with someone who can help take your mind off Jack.”

  “I’ve walked with him a grand total of four times now, and OK, I’ll admit I don’t think about Jack as much when I’m with him.”

  “I’ll live with that. So any word from the fraudster?”

  “Not yet. It was Paige’s turn to have special time with him this evening, but I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten—not that he can do anything about it now.”

  “He’s such a bastard. I’ll give her a call. Do you think she might like to come up to London for a few days during the holidays?”

  Jenna’s heart warmed with love for her sister. “I’m sure she’d jump at it. She keeps talking about getting away from here. I think she’s still having problems at school, on top of all this business with Jack, and I have to be honest, I wouldn’t mind having one less to worry about for a while.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t, and if my lovely niece needs some cheering up, she can leave it to her auntie Hanna to lay on a few treats. I’m just wondering if she’ll be parted from you.”

  “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that, but if we do I’ll drive he
r there myself.”

  Sighing, Hanna said, “You sound tired. I think you’re the one who really needs a break.”

  “I’m fine, so please don’t start worrying. I’ll email you the date Paige’s break starts so you can book the time off.”

  After ending the call Jenna went to check on Josh, who was doing quite well with his favorite game, Skylanders, so she sat down to watch. Thank God he was all right; if anything more serious had happened to him…She couldn’t even bear to think of it, so she had to put it out of her mind.

  “Your phone’s ringing, Mum,” he told her.

  Realizing it was, she saw it was Paige and clicked on. “Hi, is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, I just saw Josh’s picture. Is it broken? How did he do it?”

  “On the trampoline, and yes, it’s broken. Do you want to speak to him?”

  “In a minute. Have you told Dad about it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So you haven’t spoken to him today?”

  “No. Why? Have you?”

  “No way. And of course he’s forgotten about tonight. We knew he would, and even if he remembered he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, seeing as he’s in America.”

  “He could apologize and make another arrangement,” Jenna retorted.

  “Except I’m not interested.”

  Aching for her, Jenna said, “Where are you?”

  “At school, where do you think?”

  “I thought I could hear traffic. Would you like me to come and pick you up later so we—”

  “No, it’s OK. I’ll get the bus home. I have to go now.” And before Jenna could say any more, the line went dead.

  Texting her, Jenna said, Why don’t we go to the King tonight, just the two of us? I’m sure Grandma will babysit. Was that going to be a good thing for Josh? He would need help eating, but her mother was perfectly capable.

  She waited for an answer, but none came, and by the time she thought of it again they were all sitting down for tea, apart from Paige, who’d taken a poached egg on toast up to her room.

  —

  Over a week had gone by since Julie had started sending links to special websites, and Paige’s eyes were starting to feel swollen and raw. She’d hardly slept for the past few nights; in fact, the most sleep she was getting was during the day when she dozed off while riding buses around Swansea and even over to Cardiff. It was the only thing she could think of to escape the Durmites. Going into school wasn’t an option any longer, especially now that she and Charlotte weren’t speaking, so she was forging sick notes from her mother. It ripped her apart to be ignored by her best friend, and she couldn’t take any more of the physical abuse, simply couldn’t handle it on her own, although there was nothing she could do to stop it coming through her phone and over the Internet. She was no longer sure how much of it was from Kelly, since anonymous messages were coming from all over now, swamping her inboxes, filling her phone, all of them taunting and tormenting her, telling her what a waste of space, a troll, a saddo, or a loser she was. A lot said even worse than that, really disgusting stuff that made her feel so ashamed that she couldn’t bring herself to look in the mirror.