Web of Darkness

by Bali Rai

  ‘How can you know?’

  The girl gazes at him, and despite his anger, he takes a sharp breath. She is flawless. ‘I know,’ she replies. ‘I’m not stupid.’

  He nods. ‘Why did you tell her?’ he asks. ‘Why didn’t you listen to me?’

  ‘She guessed,’ fibs the girl. ‘She asked if I had a new man and I told her. Nothing else. No details, no names . . .’

  ‘Did you tell her my age?’

  ‘No! I told you I’m too smart for that.’

  ‘So she doesn’t know I’m older than you?’ he asks.

  ‘Not how much older,’ she tells him, her gaze steady, her eyes unblinking. ‘I know how dangerous this is for you. I don’t want you to get into trouble.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have said anything,’ he explains. He puts his hand on her knee, so narrow and delicate in his grip.

  She lays her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Dave,’ she tells him. ‘It’ll be fine, though. Lily would never tell anyone else.’

  He strokes her cheek, the skin smooth and warm, like the surface of a pebble in the sun. ‘We can’t know that,’ he whispers. ‘What if she does?’

  ‘I’ll talk to her,’ the girl tells him. ‘Make sure.’

  The OTHER lets it go, for the moment . . .

  Later, after he drops the girl off, he calls the Spider.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘She told someone,’ he admits. ‘The best friend.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ the Spider replies. ‘Now we have two unknown variables. You see how quickly our control slips away?’

  ‘I see,’ the OTHER replies. ‘And I apologize.’

  ‘I will have to think,’ the Spider tells him. ‘Make new plans.’

  ‘Are you watching Lily?’ asks the OTHER.

  ‘Not yet,’ the Spider admits.

  ‘So what shall I do?’

  ‘About Lily knowing your secret? Nothing.’

  ‘So you’ll deal with it?’

  ‘Yes. I want you to buy another phone, and deliver your current one to me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Threads,’ the Spider explains, yet again. ‘Never stick to the same one for too long. They grow weak quickly and are easily compromised. That’s how you get caught. Hiding your tracks is essential.’

  ‘I’ll do that now – get a new phone.’

  ‘And I will decide where to go next,’ the Spider replies. ‘What do you know about Lily?’

  ‘Quite a lot,’ the OTHER tells him. ‘She’s clever but shy and I’ve never seen her with a boyfriend. Her dad died when she was young. She lives with her mum, close to the school – I know both quite well. Why?’

  ‘Leverage,’ the Spider replies. ‘Just in case she is tempted to report your little mistake. I need more, though – I know those things already.’

  ‘Oh – OK, I’ll have a think. What shall I do about my girl?’

  ‘Have your fun while you can,’ the Spider tells him. ‘She is fast approaching her date of expiry . . .’

  16

  Tilly went home, and I spent the afternoon in a daze. I couldn’t get over her anger towards me. I kept wondering if I was wrong. Was I overreacting? Only, I knew that I wasn’t. I couldn’t lie to her, or pretend things were fine. Instead of concentrating on maths and science, I couldn’t stop thinking about her mystery man – who he was and why he imagined dating a schoolgirl was acceptable. I knew for a fact he wasn’t a teenager, otherwise she’d have told me, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. No, he was older than that, I was sure, and that worried me. Loads of scary thoughts ran through my head. Images of evil paedophiles preying on my best friend. On my sister . . .

  After school, I walked home alone. I saw Max by our local chip shop, chatting to some lads. I hadn’t spoken to him for a few days but I didn’t stop, I just wasn’t in the mood. My bag started to vibrate as I walked and, thinking it was Tilly, I got my phone out. Only it wasn’t her – it was Benedict sending me more Facebook messages. I opened the app and went to my inbox. The last three posts were just odd.

  Lily? You there, Lily?

  Oh come on, Lily!!!

  Please . . .? Lily??? Are you there? Answer just once so I know. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.

  As I read, the worry about the webcam was back. I really couldn’t remember asking for it, or giving him my address. I know I must have done, but there was something not quite right. And I didn’t want to think about it either – I just wanted to sort things out with Tilly.

  And when I reached my front door, I got my chance. Tilly was sitting on the front step. When she looked up, I could see she was distraught.

  ‘Didn’t think I’d see you again,’ I told her.

  ‘Didn’t think I’d come here,’ she replied. The skin around her eyes was puffy and her face was drawn, her cheeks hollow.

  ‘Why are you here?’ I asked. ‘I thought we were done?’

  She shrugged. ‘Got some of your stuff,’ she replied, pulling books and CDs from her bag.

  I felt like some boy, getting dumped. I never thought that Tilly could have been so hurtful – not to me. ‘You can keep them,’ I said.

  ‘I just want you to pay attention to me,’ she replied. ‘Like, listen and not judge.’

  ‘How am I judging you?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s not what you think – this thing with . . .’

  ‘See?’ I replied. ‘You won’t even tell me his name.’

  She shrugged again, and she suddenly seemed so small – like a sparrow, all tiny and hunched up. It wasn’t her at all – it wasn’t my Tilly. A couple of cars passed us, and three doors down some kids laughed and joked with each other, throwing water bombs made of blue, yellow and red balloons. Two young girls, maybe eight years old, walked past wearing matching Superdry tops in different colours – peach and lilac.

  ‘That used to be us,’ said Tilly. ‘Remember?’

  I nodded.

  ‘We used to talk about clothes and boy bands, and when we’d get to wear makeup,’ she added.

  ‘And we never did,’ I replied.

  ‘Hate makeup,’ she said. ‘Hate boy bands now too.’

  ‘Why are you really here?’ I asked.

  She stood and brushed off her dark jeans. My stuff was still in her hands. ‘To return these,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t lie,’ I replied. ‘You could have dropped them off anytime.’

  When she looked at me all I saw was sadness, and it made me want to cry.

  ‘I wanted to say sorry,’ she finally admitted.

  ‘Sorry?’

  She nodded. ‘I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for swearing at you too.’

  ‘OK.’

  Only I wasn’t sure that it was OK – not really. Her attack had hurt physically and emotionally. I understood that she’d been angry, but still . . .

  ‘What about you?’ she asked.

  ‘What about me?’ I asked.

  ‘Your turn to apologize.’

  I looked at my things. The spine of a Sophie Mackenzie thriller stood out – one that we both loved. So did a Bob Marley CD – my mum’s.

  ‘I’m sorry we argued,’ I said.

  ‘And . . .?’

  ‘And what?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s all you’re sorry for?’ she asked.

  I shook my head. How could I make my feelings clear? How could I get through to her?

  ‘It still just feels wrong.’

  Tilly watched the road for a moment. A pink and white ice-cream van appeared at the end of the street, playing an annoying, twinkly tune.

  ‘If I was you,’ she admitted, ‘I’d think the same thing.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I replied.

  Tilly shook her head and I sighed. We weren’t getting anywhere. ‘It’s not, though,’ she insisted. ‘It’s just a problem because of other people.’

  ‘And that doesn’t bother you?’

  ‘Yeah, it does,’ she told me. ‘But I’m not worried for
me.’

  ‘Huh?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m worried for him,’ she said. I couldn’t help being reminded of a documentary I’d seen. It had been about abuse victims who were so damaged they defended their abusers to the end.

  ‘Him?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Our society is a mess, Lily. Like, he’s not some seedy paedophile, but who’ll believe that – if we get caught?’

  I wondered if she was repeating what he’d told her. This didn’t sound like her at all.

  ‘No one will believe it,’ I replied.

  Tilly smiled. ‘See?’ she said. ‘You do get it.’

  ‘No,’ I countered, ‘I don’t. It’s obvious that he’s way older than you, Tilly. He’s an adult man carrying on with an underage girl. That makes him seedy. Decent guys don’t do that.’

  ‘I’m gonna be sixteen soon,’ she pointed out. ‘Would it be wrong then?’

  ‘Depends,’ I said. ‘Like, if he’s some lad a few years older than us, then no—’

  ‘But?’

  ‘If he’s older than that . . .’ I trailed off.

  ‘His age doesn’t matter,’ she insisted. ‘When I’m sixteen, it won’t matter. We just have to be careful until then . . .’

  I shook my head. ‘You think your mum will see it that way?’ I asked.

  ‘She won’t know,’ said `Tilly. ‘You aren’t going to tell her. I know you. You’re my girl . . .’

  ‘What if I was seeing someone older?’ I asked. ‘Like, what if I was with some thirty-year-old?’

  ‘He’s not thirty,’ she replied.

  ‘I wasn’t talking about his actual age, Tilly!’ I snapped.

  ‘Then what . . .?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you protect me?’ I added.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said immediately. ‘Of course I would.’

  ‘Even if I was besotted?’

  ‘I’d back you all the way,’ said Tilly. ‘Unless you were getting hurt.’

  ‘So you understand my point, then?’

  ‘I’m not being hurt,’ she replied. ‘We love each other . . .’

  I wanted to slap her I was so angry, but I kept my emotions in check. Whoever the man was, he had got inside her head. I wondered if I should tell my mum. I didn’t want to – the perfect solution would be for Tilly to realize what a creep he was and dump his ass.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ I told her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘This, Tilly,’ I replied. ‘I can’t just stand here, pretend nothing is wrong.’

  ‘We’re having a disagreement,’ she told me. ‘That’s all this is . . .’

  ‘Is that why you’ve brought my things, Tilly?’ I asked. ‘Because this is nothing?’

  Tilly looked at my stuff and shook her head, but she didn’t reply. It all felt too weird. She had come round as though everything was final and we were falling out for good. Yet at the same time she was trying, in her own way, to sort things out. The fact that her emotions were so jumbled added to my concern for her.

  ‘Who is he?’ I tried one last time.

  ‘When he can’t get into trouble,’ she replied. ‘That’s when I’ll tell you.’

  ‘And you’re sleeping with him?’

  She gave me an intense stare. ‘None of your business,’ she said, which meant that she was. I was stunned. My Tilly was too smart to get played. The girl in front me was like someone else. Someone I didn’t know at all.

  ‘Tilly!’

  ‘Look, take these things,’ she said. ‘Take them, calm down a bit, and maybe I’ll call you later.’

  I nodded. ‘I won’t change my mind,’ I told her. ‘I won’t accept this crap.’

  Tilly smiled. ‘I’ve worked that out,’ she replied. ‘It’s no big deal, babe. Just forget about it and we can move on.’

  ‘So, you think everything will stay the same?’ I asked.

  She nodded. ‘Unless you stop judging me,’ she replied. ‘Sorry, again, about this afternoon . . .’ She handed me my things and walked down the stone path to the pavement.

  ‘Tilly . . .?’

  I was going to tell her that I was sorry and that I wouldn’t judge her, but I didn’t. It would have been a lie. She turned, held up her left arm and showed me her Sisters Forever charm.

  ‘I love you, Lily Basra,’ she told me. ‘Please don’t forget that . . .’

  The Spider observes and smiles . . .

  Boy #1 starts with confusion, and slowly but surely his face echoes rage and fear, embarrassment and shock. Watching him feel each emotion excites the Spider. This is why he does it. This is the feeling of power that he craves like a drug . . .

  The boy is tapping at his keyboard, frantically clicking with his mouse. He’s attempting to delete the post. Easily done. The boy has a major problem, though. The Spider has tagged the link to all the boy’s friends. He’s also activated the fake blogs. No matter what the boy does now, the footage is out there. It is burrowing its way into the very fabric of the Web.

  The boy stares in horror at the screen – and the Spider knows why. What the boy sees, he sees too. People are beginning to comment. Girl #2 – the one who spends most of her life online – is first to react. Her response will be typical:

  You dirty little bastard! You ain’t right in the head!

  The Spider has plans for Girl #2, but she’ll keep. For now, he has another role to play. He logs in as Charlotte and sends a private message. Chaos surrounds the boy, so Charlotte will be his guide . . .

  OMG – what happened?

  Charlotte – thank God! I don’t know what’s happening. Someone must have hacked my account and got this video.

  I know – I saw it. What the hell?

  It’s the last webcam session we did. How could someone record it?

  I don’t know? Are you OK?

  Course I’m not fucking OK!

  I’m sorry, babe – stupid question. Can I help?

  I’m trying to delete everything but it’s on loads of sites. If my parents see this too – I’m dead.

  Can’t you just remove it completely?

  No, Charlotte – people have shared it already. I’m dead.

  No – you listen to me! I’ll protect you.

  How? How the fuck do I get out of this? My parents will kick me out!

  You don’t know that they’ve seen it yet.

  But they will.

  The Spider opens a second window. Logs into the boy’s email account. He attaches the offending video. Sends it to his mum and dad. To his grandmother too. You’re right, he thinks as he returns to the conversation, they WILL see it . . .

  You could come to mine? You know – if things get too difficult?

  How can things get any worse? I can’t go back to school, I can’t go out. I’m finished, Charlotte.

  So come to mine . . .

  When?

  Tonight. I’ve got to work late – until about midnight.

  But people will find me.

  We’ll move, babe. Get another place. Somewhere far away. I’m due some time off soon – we could go to Spain or Italy?

  Really? You’d do all that for me?

  I said so, didn’t I? I’m not some stupid teenage girl – I’m a grown woman. You and me – we’re made for each other.

  But we’ve never met. I’ve never even seen your face . . .

  Of course we’ve met, babe. Just because it’s online doesn’t mean we’re not real. I’ve just got to be careful. Something like this could ruin my career.

  Where do we meet?

  There’s a Subway shop near my office – London Road, in town?

  I know it.

  Go down the side street next to the shop. There’s an alley, first left. The car park is there.

  Why don’t I just come to your place?

  No – someone might see you. Besides, it’ll be quicker if you meet me outside work.

  Car?

  BMW 320D.

  Midnight?

  Make it just after. And, Max?


  Yeah?

  Just come as you are – don’t bother to pack any stuff; we can buy new stuff once we get abroad. So try not to worry. I’ll make everything right – I promise.

  Thank you.

  No thanks needed, Max. It’s my pleasure. Really . . .

  17

  When the doorbell rang an hour after Tilly left, I hoped she’d returned. But it was Kane on the doorstep.

  ‘Hey!’ he said.

  ‘Hey, Kane – come in.’ Despite everything, my mood lifted. I couldn’t help the smile creeping onto my face.

  He followed me back to the kitchen, where my annoying chemistry revision sat untouched on the table.

  ‘Still having trouble with that?’ Kane asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I told him. ‘I feel like pulling my hair out every time I look at it.’

  ‘I was just passing,’ he said. That sounded a bit odd. Kane didn’t live anywhere near me, why would he have been passing by? Had he made a special trip to come and see me?

  ‘You don’t need an excuse,’ I told him. ‘You’re always welcome.’

  He was wearing an indigo shirt, open at the collar, with navy jeans and brown Timberlands. His dark skin seemed to glow and I kept glancing at his almost-perfect hands. I’d known him since junior school, and fancied him since I was, like, eleven. Even my actor crush, Will Smith, had been inspired by Kane’s smile.

  Kane looked around, studying the kitchen. ‘This is different,’ he said.

  ‘Mum got it redone last year,’ I explained. ‘Has it been that long since you’ve been here?’

  ‘Must be.’

  I watched his long, slender fingers as he picked at something invisible on the table surface. He obviously had something on his mind – that must be why he’d come round.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked.

  ‘Have you heard from Max?’ he asked.

  ‘No – why?’

  Kane looked straight at me. His honey-coloured eyes were warm and inviting. If they had been a pool, I would have jumped right in. ‘He’s been acting strange,’ he said. ‘Like, we arrange to meet and then he lets me down last minute. Or he doesn’t reply to messages and calls.’

  ‘I haven’t noticed,’ I replied, instantly thinking of Tilly and our argument – our friendship group was sort of falling apart. ‘He’s been distant recently, but he always does that when we have exams. I just thought he was concentrating on revision.’