by Susan Lewis
‘She’s upstairs, having a lie-down,’ Michelle answered. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No thanks. I’ll go and see her.’
‘She’s asleep.’
Molly’s face tightened. ‘So? I can still go and see her.’
‘I’d like to have a little chat with you first,’ Michelle said, gathering up the papers to stack on an arm of the sofa.
Molly’s defences couldn’t have shot up faster. ‘I’ve got homework to do,’ she blurted, already backing off.
Undaunted, Michelle rose to her feet. ‘The police were in touch today,’ she said, ‘about the person you were emailing.’
Molly’s eyes blazed, but Michelle could see a goodly amount of unease clouding up the anger.
‘He was found in possession of child pornography,’ Michelle told her, sounding perfectly matter-of-fact, ‘so the police were able to arrest him.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with me,’ Molly snapped. ‘I never went anywhere near him …’
‘No-one’s trying to say you did, but you should have told your mum that the police had talked to you …’
‘What’s it got to do with you?’ Molly retorted rudely. ‘I’ll tell her what I want to tell her …’
‘I don’t think you understand the position you put her in,’ Michelle said. ‘If the police think you’re hiding things from her, which obviously they do now, it makes it look as though she’s not paying proper attention at home, and forces them to wonder what else you might be hiding. As a result, they want to see your computer.’
Molly’s eyes opened wide with shock. ‘No way!’ she shouted. ‘That is my private property and no-one but me goes anywhere near it.’
‘They’re not insisting, but Molly, you have to realize, that kind of refusal only raises suspicions.’
‘Yours, maybe, but I couldn’t care less what you think. You’ve got no right talking to me about any of this anyway. It’s none of your bloody business …’
‘Actually, it is my business. You’re my niece, and I care about you very much, so I don’t want …’
‘That is such crap! You don’t even care about your own son, so how can you say you care about me?’
‘Of course I care about Robbie, but we’re talking about you …’
‘Not any more, we’re not.’
‘Molly! Come back here, and keep your voice down …’
‘I’ll shout all I want, this is my house, not yours, and she’s my mother, so if she wakes up …’
‘All right, if that’s how you want to play it,’ Michelle cut in, and almost before Molly knew what was happening she was being marched back into the sitting room and turned round to face Michelle. ‘Now you can listen to me,’ Michelle said firmly. ‘You are behaving like a spoiled, selfish, distinctly unintelligent brat, with no consideration for anyone but yourself, and we both know that is not who you are, or the way you’ve been brought up. You’re fourteen now, Molly, so it’s time to act your age and start facing some responsibilities.’
‘Don’t you dare …’
‘A good way to begin,’ Michelle cut across her, ‘would be to apologize to your mother for the worry and upset you caused her this morning – if you don’t, then I’m afraid I won’t defend you any more, and your computer will be taken away.’
Molly was beside herself. ‘I don’t need you to defend me,’ she shouted. ‘I can defend myself. So why don’t you just get out …’
‘And go back to where I came from? Yes, I know how it goes. Well, as it happens, this is where I came from, this very family, and if you can’t see that the people you’re hurting most by resisting me are you and your mother, then perhaps I’m wrong and you aren’t very clever.’
‘Well perhaps I’m not,’ she snarled, jutting her face out.
Ignoring the temptation, Michelle said, ‘Now you can either apologize for your outrageous rudeness and we’ll start over again, or you can go to your room and stay there until you’re able to demonstrate what a reasonable and worthwhile human being you actually are.’
Molly’s lips were curled in a snarl. ‘You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do,’ she spat.
‘Oh yes I can, and if you want to put it to the test …’
Molly drew herself upright. ‘You lay one hand on me and I’ll smash …’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not going to hit you. Now I’ve given you your choices, apologize, or go to your room.’
‘I’m going to talk to Mum. She needs to be told what an absolute cow you are …’
Michelle was unbending. ‘Molly, don’t disturb her,’ she said sharply. ‘She’s had a difficult day …’ She drew back as Molly suddenly rounded on her like a hissing cat.
‘She’s my mother!’ she spat. ‘If I want to disturb her then I bloody well will.’
‘I’ve just told you, she’s had a difficult day so she …’
‘No she has not!’
Michelle blinked.
‘She has not had a difficult day! She doesn’t have difficult days any more. Everyone knows that.’ Her face was horribly stricken and Michelle had rarely seen such a struggle to cover so much fear. It made her want to pull her into her arms and swear to her that it would be all right, but how could she? She was in no position to make such a promise, and affection was clearly the last thing Molly wanted from her right now.
‘Listen, Molly,’ she said gently, ‘I understand how hard this is for you, but you know your mother’s sick, and running away from it …’
‘She is not!’ Molly almost screamed. ‘Stop saying that.’
It was hard, but Michelle knew she had to keep pushing, for it was the only way to start breaking the defences down. ‘Molly, you know it’s true,’ she said, ‘and you know it’s why I’m here …’
‘No! She’s all right. She doesn’t need you …’
‘Molly, please try to understand …’
‘Shut up! Just shut up!’ Her hands were over her ears, tears were rolling down her cheeks, but though she turned away, she didn’t leave the room. She just stood in front of the fireplace, still blocking her ears, her young shoulders shaking as her body convulsed with sobs.
Going to her, Michelle wrapped her tightly in her arms, wanting to convey the feeling of safety she needed. But Molly couldn’t accept it. If she did, it might mean having to admit the real reason why Michelle was here.
Michelle winced as a sharp elbow jammed into her side. ‘Get off me,’ Molly raged, ‘don’t touch me,’ and shoving her out of the way she ran into the kitchen and up the stairs.
Michelle remained where she was, one hand to her head, the other to her side where Molly had dug her. It had been a far from easy encounter, though really no worse than she’d expected. Even so, her heart ached with as much pity as it did frustration at her inability to ease Molly’s pain.
Upstairs in her room Molly was so enraged she wanted to lash out and hurt someone really, really badly. She had scissors and nail files that she could stab into her arms and legs, or Michelle’s face, or anyone who tried to stop her doing anything. She hated them all, the police, the teachers, her mother, Michelle – especially Michelle. She was going to ring Cecily and tell her she wanted her poisons, or her witchcraft, or anything else she could think of to get rid of her. She had to instant-message with Brad first though, and she was already late. Oh my God, she was late! What if he hadn’t waited?
As she connected to the Internet she dashed away her tears, as though pushing them off her face could push them out of her heart. Please let him still be there. If he wasn’t it would be stupid, fucking Michelle’s fault, for keeping her downstairs. And Rank Rusty’s, because she’d stayed behind to try and persuade him to shoplift the bracelet Allison wanted, but he’d refused to do it, and had even threatened to tell if she did it herself! Stupid, idiot fucking moron! She had to have that bracelet to get through to Step Five, which was going to happen on Friday night, when they all got together to contact Lilith and smoke some we
ed. Allison had said it was the best idea for Step Five, because there would be lots of weed at the party, so they could get in practice, and Brad definitely smoked weed, so she had to do it too, or he’d think she was a delinquent and wouldn’t want any more to do with her.
He wasn’t there! She was too late. Bloody, fucking Michelle. She hated her so much. He’d sent an email though, saying he couldn’t wait any longer, but would instant-message later, if she could make it at ten.
Yes, she could make it at ten, as long as they didn’t take her computer away. They wouldn’t though, because she wouldn’t let them. She just wished she knew what to do about the bracelet, because she’d promised Allison she’d take it over there on Thursday and she had to revise for a major maths test tomorrow, so tonight was the only chance she had to get it. She kept trying to think of excuses for not having it, but whatever she said she knew they wouldn’t believe her. They’d call her a coward, say she wasn’t fit to be a DOL, and then throw her out, which meant Cecily wouldn’t help her get rid of Michelle, she’d be banned from the party, she wouldn’t be Brad’s girlfriend any more, and she wouldn’t have any friends either.
It couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. She had to get that bracelet or she might as well go on the suicide site again now. Unless … Oh my God! Unless … No, she couldn’t. It wouldn’t work. They’d find out and then it would be even worse than if she hadn’t got the bracelet at all. But how would they find out? Who was going to know if she bought it? All she had to do was make sure no-one was around when she went into the shop, then she could hand over the money and come out with the bracelet. Which was all just like, brilliant, if she had the frigging money. But she didn’t, did she? All she had was five lousy quid, and the bracelet was ten ninety nine.
Well, there was nothing else for it, she’d just have to steal the money. She could take it out of her mum’s handbag, which was probably in its usual place, hanging on the back of a chair in the kitchen. The thought of that slowed her up a bit, making her feel slightly dizzy and sick. Her mum would go like, totally ballistic if she ever found out, but she wouldn’t find out if Molly took the whole purse, would she? She’d think she’d dropped it somewhere, which she might have, because those sorts of things happened all the time.
Disconnecting from the Web, she picked up her coat and bag and tiptoed out on to the landing. The place was dead quiet, except for her heart which was banging about like a drum. Her mum didn’t snore, which was a shame, because then she’d know if she was asleep, and Michelle didn’t watch TV – like, was she for real? – so there was no noise downstairs either.
Hardly daring to breathe, she took the stairs one at a time, wincing and waiting after each creak of a floorboard, though there were hardly any, and none of them were like, really loud.
The handbag was in its usual place, which was perfect, because it wasn’t possible to see that chair from inside the sitting room. She skimmed quickly towards it, dipped a hand in, felt around, and finding the purse pulled it out. Her heart was beating so fast now it was like, right out of control. She didn’t really want to do this, but what choice did she have? If her mum would give her more money there wouldn’t be a problem, would there, so really her mum only had herself to blame. And she definitely wouldn’t want her to go out nicking stuff from shops and getting herself arrested, maybe even put in reform school, or prison, so this was definitely what she had to do, because it was the best thing for her mum too.
Opening the top flap of her school bag she slid the purse inside. She was feeling like, so peculiar now, as if she was floating or drowning or something. She tried to breathe and found her chest was like, closed down. She tried again. It worked, but she had to get out of here now. She was just taking a step towards the door when Michelle said,
‘Molly.’
She froze, then spun round. To her horror Michelle was standing right there, in the kitchen.
‘Put it back,’ Michelle said quietly.
Molly’s eyes flashed with outrage. ‘What?’ she demanded.
‘You know what I’m talking about, now put it back and we’ll pretend it never happened.’
‘You’re crazy, do you know that?’ Molly sneered. ‘You’re sick up here. I haven’t got anything, so I don’t …’
‘Molly, I saw you take it, now put it … Molly! Come back here,’ she shouted, as Molly flung open the door. ‘Molly!’
Molly was leaping the fence. She wasn’t listening to anything Michelle was saying. It was all blocked out. She was just running and running, into the lane, up past the duck pond, crashing into Judy as she came the other way, but on she went.
‘Molly, are you all right?’ Judy called after her.
Molly tore on. She wasn’t stopping for anyone, she was going to Chippenham, where she’d buy the bracelet, then she’d catch the bus back to Allison’s, or even over to Rank Rusty’s and show him she didn’t need his stupid help …
Judy was still looking bemused as she joined Michelle in the garden. ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘She seemed in a mighty big hurry.’
Michelle sighed, and shook her head. ‘Let’s just say I’m starting to get an idea now of how deeply in denial she is,’ she said.
‘Oh dear. So Katie still hasn’t told her?’
Michelle shook her head.
‘Well, it’s not uncommon for relatives to try and block it out,’ Judy said, following her into the house. ‘It’s a form of self-protection, obviously, so if Molly tells herself forcefully enough that it’s not happening, then in her world it’s not.’
‘Which is clearly why she’s having such a hard time with me being here,’ Michelle said, filling the kettle. ‘Underneath it all she knows what it means, so if she can make me go away then everything will be all right again.’
‘Poor love,’ Judy said. ‘Breaks your heart, doesn’t it, to think of what she’s going through.’
Michelle nodded, and attempted a smile. ‘We’ll get there,’ she said softly.
Judy put a hand on her arm and squeezed it. ‘I came round to find out how Katie got on today,’ she said. ‘I guess she’s asleep, is she?’
‘She was, but there’s a good chance Molly and I managed to wake her up. If we did, she’s apparently decided to be very un-Katie and just let us get on with it.’ She didn’t add, ‘which doesn’t bode well for our miracle,’ for not intervening in that dreadful scene could be an indication that Katie might actually be starting to let go.
Chapter Fourteen
THE SMALL TOWN of Pietrasanta, with its typical Italian piazzas and flatfronted houses was gleaming after a deluge of rain. Elliot was beside the apartment window working on his laptop while half-listening to Tom as he spoke to Michelle on the phone.
‘So first they set up the worst of the known terrorist groups to stage a devastating attack on the West,’ Tom was saying, ‘then, just in the nick of time, the plot gets exposed and paraded down Pennsylvania Avenue. Next thing we know the hawks have been re-elected, then with proof of this terrible plot’s origins, the invasion of Pakistan can begin, because America has to get control of those nuclear weapons before they fall into the wrong hands – which they’re apt to at any time.’
Michelle was quiet for a moment as she took it all in. ‘And if the British believe they were the intended victim of the plot,’ she finally added, ‘the Government won’t receive too much opposition to riding into the next war with their American chums.’
‘Exactly. All this is theory, of course, we have no proof, and actually there is a case for the end justifying the means, because the Pakistan situation has to be resolved. It’s the iniquitous exploitation of people’s fears for re-election purposes that I object to, because we’re going to end up with the British public believing they came very close to being nuked, when it was all a ruse to get the Republicans back in power, and their country into another war. It’s unconscionable, and if we’re right in our assumptions, the neo-conservatives, who are driving this, can’t be allowed to get
away with it.’
‘Hang on,’ Michelle said, ‘Katie’s listening, she wants to say something.’
‘Do we have to have proof?’ Katie asked. ‘You’ve got the maps and the emails …’
‘But nothing to connect them,’ Tom reminded her. ‘As it stands, we’d have a hard job getting anyone to run it, because it’s all hypothetical, and the mainstream US press is pretty much Republican-owned, so no-one’s going to stick their necks out over something like this unless they’re certain their heads won’t end up rolling.’
‘You’d get it published here, in Britain.’
‘Maybe, but they too will probably want something a bit more substantial to go on, and as time’s still more or less on our side we can carry on trying to join at least some of the dots, so that when we come to present our case it looks credible, even if not totally irrefutable.’
Reaching for his own phone, Elliot felt a familiar twist of nerves go through him when he saw it was Laurie. ‘Hi, any luck?’ he said, already knowing what she was calling about.
‘Yep. Sir Christopher Malton’s agreed to see me for five minutes if I can get there before eleven. I’m on my way now, so it would help to speak to Tom.’
‘Of course, I’ll put him on.’
‘Before you do, have you spoken to Max this morning?’
‘Still too early for him. Why?’
‘Just that Nick flew down to Washington to join him last night.’
Immediately Elliot’s face darkened. ‘For a particular reason?’ he asked, understanding that she must have spoken to Nick to know where he was.
‘I think something came up in New York. He didn’t give me any details though.’
Elliot glanced across the table as Tom finished his call. ‘Laurie’s about to meet with Christopher Malton,’ he told him. ‘Talk her through the way you want her to play it.’