by Bali Rai
I nodded and looked out into the courtyard garden. Every part was crammed full – pots overflowing with brightly coloured flowers, lush green plants, garden lanterns on spiked poles, a trellis lined with climbers. On any another day, the sight would have cheered me up – childhood memories of my dad and his love for gardening. But not now.
‘No one will believe me,’ I told him.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Everyone knows you ain’t no troll.’
‘Who listened to Max?’ I replied. ‘We bloody didn’t . . .’
Kane grew gloomy at that. He shook his head slowly. ‘We never got the chance,’ he said. ‘He was gone before we could talk.’
I sipped tea and watched a sparrow flit from fence to plant pot. ‘It’s my name on those posts, and my account,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ he replied, ‘but we know it’s been hacked.’
‘Only we’ve got no proof,’ I said.
‘The fact you can’t log in?’ asked Kane. ‘Surely that would prove—’
‘It would only be my word,’ I said.
‘So that makes me your ace, then,’ he replied. ‘With that photo I took when your Facebook was hacked.’
‘What makes you my what?’
Kane’s smile was a little warmer. ‘Ace in the hole?’ he asked. ‘Well-known saying?’
‘Never heard it.’
‘And there was me thinking you read books.’
I punched him on the arm.
‘I’m here for you, Lily,’ he told me. ‘Anything you need.’
I looked into his honey eyes and felt my face take on colour. I was so tempted to kiss him. My thighs felt too big, and my shoulders too wide. He’d have to be blind to be—
Kane leaned in, put his hand against my cheek and kissed me softly.
‘Kane . . .?’
He pulled away, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I just . . . I . . .’
I smiled and pulled him close again. ‘I wasn’t angry,’ I told him. ‘Just shocked.’
He smiled and kissed me again.
30
I walked home in a daze. A poet might have said my heart was singing and my footsteps were so light that they kissed the pavement like butterflies dancing amongst rose petals. That I was even thinking such thoughts showed just how weird my mood was. Kane’s kiss had rocked me – like, seriously. I was over-whelmed by it. Struggling to believe it had actually happened. I felt happy and alive – in my heart.
Only, my head wasn’t playing along – not completely. I was still in trouble – still facing exclusion and accusations of bullying – and I knew it. My phone kept buzzing me, and my Facebook account had been hacked by a lunatic. A lunatic who had made me feel a little like I felt with Kane, but then ripped it all away.
And Max and Amy were still dead. And Tilly wasn’t talking to me.
There was no reason to be cheerful. The thought of school terrified me too. How could I get people to believe me? How was Molly going to react when I saw her? Where was Tilly and what was she thinking? The same questions swam around in my mind, over and over.
As I reached my street, the two opposing moods were still clashing. I could feel Kane’s hands holding me – the touch and taste of his lips. I wanted to run back to him, to make sure it hadn’t been a mistake. To ask if he really wanted someone as ordinary as me. It was crazy.
Then Benedict came into my head – or at least the person he claimed to be. He was hiding in the shadows, watching me, smirking. His eyes were pitch-black with no pupils, and they were sucking me in. I had to shake my head to get rid of the image.
I saw that my mum’s car wasn’t on the drive. School had finished an hour earlier, so I assumed she was working late. An elderly neighbour – Mrs Bennett – approached me, walking her dog.
‘Who’s a lucky girl, then?’ she beamed.
‘Lucky?’ I asked.
She nodded towards the house. ‘You’ve got flowers, Lily!’
‘Oh . . .’ I was puzzled. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
‘I used to get flowers,’ she told me. Then Mrs Bennett and Lulu, her Chihuahua, continued on their way.
‘Flowers?’ I said out loud.
They were lying against the door, wrapped in scarlet foil. Twelve pink and white carnations, with an envelope taped to them. I glanced around before picking them up. My hands trembled. The paranoia crept slowly back into my head. Even as I opened the envelope, I knew. My stomach clenched.
The white card was cheap, the message printed:
MAYBE IN LOVE FOREVER
The first letter of each word was red, the rest black. MILF. The hacker’s idea of a joke. My mum’s beautiful face came to mind. He was playing games and they were working.
I hurried inside and dumped the bouquet in the sink. My blood felt like acid – burning its way around my body at speed. Sweat broke on my forehead, and my palms grew damp. The delivery had been made by hand. It was a message – a warning that he could get to me – to my mum. I was truly frightened – like never before. I wanted to scream.
I grabbed my phone and sent Mum a text.
You OK? When you coming home?
When she replied almost immediately, my heartbeat slowed.
At work. I’ll be back in an hour or so. You OK?
Yeah – just miss you.
Miss you too, baby.
Her reply meant that she didn’t know about the Facebook post – yet. Relief washed over me, but it was only momentary, and replaced almost instantly by fury. So powerful that my head began to ache. I grabbed the flowers and a box of matches, and stormed into the garden. I threw the bouquet on a patch of bare soil. In the shed, I found white spirit. I doused the carnations and the card, and then dropped a match. I hoped he was watching, from whichever hole he called home.
‘You BASTARD!!!!’ I shrieked.
Tilly finally responded about an hour afterwards. I was sitting, not really watching the telly, my thoughts elsewhere. I answered quickly.
‘Where’ve you been?’ I was so relieved to hear her voice – to know that she was safe. Knowing that she and Mum were fine meant more than anything.
‘Well, that’s nice,’ she replied at my impatient tone.
‘I’ve been trying to contact you since yesterday,’ I told her.
‘I wonder why?’
‘Meaning?’
‘I’ve seen Facebook,’ she told me. ‘What the actual fuck?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ I told her. ‘You have to believe me!’ My tone was pleading but I didn’t care. I was pleading with her. ‘I got hacked.’
‘By who?’ she asked.
‘That’s the point,’ I replied. ‘It’s why I’ve been calling you. I even came round earlier.’
‘School.’
Why was she lying to me? Now more than ever we had to stick together. ‘You weren’t at school,’ I replied. ‘Kane told me.’
‘Oh, yeah. I . . . had a dentist appointment,’ she told me. ‘Went in after lunch . . . didn’t see Kane. Danny was there, though.’
I remembered Danny’s text messages.
‘He’s fuming,’ Tilly added.
‘I know.’
‘Him and everyone else,’ she added. ‘Dr Woods is on the war path. It’s a good job you skipped school.’
‘What else was I supposed to do?’ I asked her.
The truth was that I’d been too scared to face it. It hurt that I was hiding that from Tilly – that wasn’t what our relationship had been built on.
‘Everyone knows,’ she revealed. ‘Mr Warren asked all about it – Dhindsa too. I think they’ve called the police in.’
‘I’m dead.’
‘But if you say you didn’t do it . . .’
‘What?’ I snapped. ‘You don’t believe me?’
Tilly left a slight pause. ‘I believe you,’ she replied. ‘I back you completely.’
‘You might be hacked too,’ I said. ‘Seriously – Kane and me, we worked it out . . .’
‘You
were with Kane?’
‘Yes – will you listen?’ I was getting impatient. ‘That boy – Benedict – he’s a fake . . .’
I heard the front door open, and two voices – my mum and Dave.
‘Shit!’
‘What?’ Lily asked.
‘Mum’s back,’ I told her. ‘Dave’s with her . . .’
‘Dave?’
‘Yeah – means she must know . . . Dave will have been told at school.’
‘Don’t worry – Dave is lovely. He’ll sort it out.’
‘Never mind him!’ I said hurriedly. ‘Is your PC playing up?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘I’m not a computer nerd. It works fine . . .’
My mum entered the living room, her expression stony. ‘Call back,’ she ordered.
‘But I just need to—’
‘NOW!’ she yelled.
I felt a surge of panic. ‘Gotta go,’ I told Tilly. ‘Check your PC – please!’
‘What for?’ she asked.
‘Just do it!’
Suddenly the phone had been snatched from me. My mum ended the call and threw the phone on the sofa.
‘MUM!’
‘Shut up!’ she demanded, as Dave walked in.
‘Calm down, Laila,’ he said to Mum. ‘Shouting won’t help.’
My lower lip quivered and I started to shake. ‘It wasn’t me,’ I whispered.
My mum shook her head. She wore an expression that was half anger, half disappointment. Dave took a seat opposite me, his huge shoulders encased in a white Leicester Tigers polo shirt. He wore faded blue jeans and running trainers. A pink rash spread from just below his left cheek to his Adam’s Apple.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked me.
I couldn’t even work out where to start.
‘Lily?’
‘Course I’m not OK, Dave,’ I eventually replied.
My mum sat next to him, her eyes filled with anger. The sofa was a two-seater so they were virtually on top of each other. They seemed very comfortable together. ‘Don’t give him lip!’ she told me. ‘Dave’s here to help you.’
‘I haven’t done anything,’ I told her. ‘I got hacked.’
Mum and Dave exchanged glances, as though they couldn’t trust my word. It made me feel terrible. Didn’t they know me? Everyone I thought I could trust doubted me.
‘Hacked?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘It wasn’t me – you can ask Kane.’
‘Why Kane?’
I sighed. ‘I made friends with some lad,’ I told them. ‘On Facebook. He said he was from New York – Benedict . . .’
‘But how does that lead to this?’ asked Mum.
I wanted to scream at her – to say Shut up and listen. Only, I would never have spoken to her that way. I adored her. I buried my frustration and continued to explain.
‘Benedict is a hacker,’ I said. ‘He duped me into being friends and then got all weird.’
My mum’s eyes widened. She glanced at Dave. ‘Weird in what way?’ she asked, the obvious concern in her tone making me feel a bit better.
‘He wanted pics,’ I told her. ‘Like, selfies . . .’
My mum gasped.
‘Selfies as in nude photographs?’ asked Dave.
‘They’re not all nasty,’ I replied. ‘Most selfies are just people having a laugh or showing off.’
‘But this Benedict,’ said Mum. ‘He wanted more?’ She looked close to tears.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He kept asking me to have video chats with him. He even sent me a webcam.’
‘But how did he get this address?’ asked Mum.
‘That’s the point,’ I replied. I stopped and collected my thoughts. It was like trying to catch waves with a sieve.
‘What point?’ asked Dave, sitting forward now, his steel-blue eyes locked on mine.
‘Benedict isn’t his real name,’ I replied. ‘I don’t know who he is. I think he’s the person Max was talking to, though. The person who recorded that awful video clip.’
‘Max – as in Max Jones?’
I nodded.
‘I didn’t know he was talking to anyone,’ said Dave.
‘DC Evans,’ I said. ‘She knew . . .’
Mum and Dave exchanged another look. I wasn’t getting my point across, and I started to get hot. My hands grew clammy and my cheeks burned. Being forced into telling Mum was a huge relief, but things were complicated and I wanted her to understand. I wanted her to be on my side.
‘Max was interacting with some woman called Charlotte, only she wasn’t real,’ I explained. ‘She was like Benedict – a fake – because they’re the same person, I’m sure of it. That person hacked my Facebook and wrote all that nasty stuff about Molly. Kane is a witness – he’ll back me up. His brother too.’
‘His brother?’ asked Mum. ‘What’s Alfie’s connection to this?’
‘He checked my computer yesterday,’ I revealed. ‘He’s the one that told me I had a RAT.’
‘A rat?’ said Dave. Both of them looked confused.
‘Remote Access Trojan,’ I replied. ‘It’s a type of virus – hackers use them to take over computers.’
‘I’m just baffled now,’ said Mum. ‘More than when Dave rang to tell me.’
‘When did you find out?’
‘Maybe an hour ago,’ she replied. ‘Not that it matters. Why did you lie this morning?’
At least I understood how she knew. Kane had been right – she was always going to find out. It made hiding things from her a pointless decision.
‘I didn’t lie, Mum.’
‘You claimed to be ill,’ she reminded me.
‘I was unwell,’ I protested. ‘I was scared too.’
‘Because of the Facebook post?’ asked Dave.
‘Yes!’ The soft cream seat cushion beneath me was slipping. I stood and shoved it back into place.
Dave still looked puzzled. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘Lily – you’re saying that this person – this Benedict – had something to do with Max’s problems?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’m sure of it.’
The doorbell chimed and Mum went to answer.
Dave came and sat by my side. He put his arm round me. ‘Look – I might not understand this,’ he told me, ‘but I believe you. This is completely out of character.’
His confidence and belief meant the world at that moment. It was all that I needed. I could have hugged him for ever.
‘I think we should call the police – speak to DC Evans,’ I said.
‘You’re in luck,’ Mum replied from the door. ‘She’s here to see you.’
DC Evans looked weary. Her face was lined, and dark circles sat under her eyes. The light grey business suit she wore was crumpled and her hair was limp and tired, making it look a shade darker.
‘It’s about Molly Cooper,’ she said. ‘I need to ask you some questions.’
‘We’ve just been talking about that,’ Dave told her. ‘Lily has something very interesting to tell you.’
DC Evans looked at my mum. ‘We could talk here,’ she told her, ‘but we’re probably better off going to the station.’
Mum looked horrified. ‘Are you arresting my daughter?’ she asked. ‘She’s done nothing wrong. She’s been hacked.’
‘No,’ said the police officer. ‘But we do need to question her. You’ll need to come along, as her parent. You may also call a solicitor, if you wish.’
‘Can I ask why, Officer?’ said Dave.
DC Evans nodded. ‘Molly Cooper has been missing since last night,’ she revealed. ‘Given the recent incidents at your school, we’re very concerned. Lily is central to our investigation.’
I knew immediately that Molly was dead too – like an instinct. Benedict had been cryptic – the police won’t catch me, he’d said, not before . . . He’d meant Molly – I was sure of it. When I tried to stand up and walk, I felt queasy. I couldn’t get rid of the images in my mind.
Benedict was in there ag
ain. I was hanging from a web, the lower half of my body cocooned in silk. He sat above, watching me with soulless eyes . . .
31
DC Evans introduced her boss, DI Meadows, even though I knew who he was. His hair was even shorter than before, grey speckled with white, and his lips so thin, they looked cruel. When he spoke, I saw that his teeth were discoloured and uneven. Patches of eczema, flaky and sore, covered his hands and neck.
The interview room was small and airless. I sat between Mum and Dave, with the officers across a basic wooden table from us. To our right, a tape recorder sat against the grey-painted wall. In the corner, above the door, was a camera. The rest of the room was empty.
‘This isn’t official,’ he told us. ‘But you can ask for a solicitor, if you wish. We aren’t taping this interview.’
Mum nodded. ‘Your colleague mentioned that,’ she said. ‘If you’re not arresting my daughter, I don’t see the need. I’m sure that between us, we can manage.’ She glanced at Dave and he reassured her with a smile.
DI Meadows looked at me, his eyes a shade darker blue than Dave’s but just as intense. ‘We’re under a great deal of pressure,’ he told me. ‘So I need you to be honest and tell us everything. Molly disappeared last night. Ordinarily, we’d wait a while longer and see if she turns up, but with the events of late . . .’
He let his sentence trail off and fiddled with a notebook. DC Evans consulted hers and asked the first question.
‘Did you see Molly yesterday – that would be Tuesday?’
I nodded. It didn’t feel so recent to me, however. It felt like days since I’d last seen her, tottering away on her high heels. So much had happened since then.
‘At school,’ I told her.
‘Was she acting strangely or distressed at all?’
Again, I nodded. ‘She was acting weird – sort of excited, even,’ I said. ‘She had this huge tote bag.’
‘What colour was the bag?’
‘Sort of tan brown – leather too. I saw it in the sales a couple of weeks ago.’
‘You said it was huge?’
‘Maybe not that big,’ I told her. ‘But it was packed full. Like almost bursting.’