My blood runs cold. How does she know this? I only told Carlina about the boob pic, and she’d never mess with me in that way. ‘He showed them to everyone,’ she continues.
‘Oh my fucking god,’ I hiss, lightheaded and embarrassed now. ‘Has your husband seen them?’
‘No, he overheard some stuff in some pub toilets. Lad talk…’
She carries on talking, in her low, calm, quiet voice. Making sure that to anyone else our conversation doesn’t look like anything particularly special, and all the while I try not to cry. This is mortifying. Apparently someone suggested he send them to everyone I work with, or put them up online somewhere, or both, exposing the identity of the girl who writes the popular dating blog for Viral Hive. I’m confused. I deleted everything he ever sent me and even if I hadn’t, the thought of using it against him like that is abhorrent. And for what? Why would he feel the need to do that to me? He wasn’t interested in me in the end, so why go to the trouble of touting a topless photo of me around? What good would it do him?
‘Why would he do this to me?’ I ask, and Lydia looks uncomfortable again.
‘He knows someone you went on a date with. The guy took massive offence, because of how it turned out, and Tim suggested he had a way to get back at you.’
‘Who?’ I ask, mentally going through everyone. There’s no way it was Eddie the Rockstar, or Emo Greg. The mean marine also seems unlikely. And then it hits me. Of course. It’ll be smarmy Louis. ‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘I think I know.’
‘This guy posted a photo of a cheque you sent on Facebook. And then after Jeff opened his big fat mouth, Tim saw what you’d written and put two and two together.’
‘Vindictive bastard. If he does this, I’m finished, you know that?’
All I can think about is my dad somehow getting wind of these photos. He’d be so embarrassed. So ashamed. So disappointed. His only daughter getting her tits out for a guy over text, and, crucially, leaving her face in the photo. Why did I do that? What was I thinking? And all my colleagues. It’s not hard to find their email addresses on the website, he could so easily send a group email. I know they’d be understanding. I’m lucky that everyone is kind enough that they’d scoop me up. Maxine would find a way to put a stop to it. Have a quiet chat with IT for me. Ask them to block email addresses, or forward the details to the police. But she shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t betray my trust like that. Even just contemplating it leaves me sweaty and close to tears.
And Ollie. He’d find out, and what would he think of me? I’ve never missed him more than right now. I’d give anything for a hug and a waft of his aftershave, comforting and familiar. For him to hold his arm out for me to take, and then tuck it in close to him. For us to amble down to Soho for a fix of carnitas and guacamole.
Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore, and I sit with my head in my hands, staring down at the white tablecloth. Lydia reaches over and pats my head and I look up at her.
‘Did I do the right thing by telling you?’ she asks, genuinely concerned. ‘If it was me, I’d want to know.’
‘You did,’ I say. ‘And you were right; mediocre is the fucking word. In fact, it’s generous.’
* * *
I don’t sleep at all. Instead I toss and turn all night, lying for hours, staring at the minutes flick over on my clock, weighing up my options for dealing with this. Do I preempt it and talk to Maxine first thing on Monday morning, swallow my embarrassment and explain everything? Or do I wait it out and see what happens? He could be bluffing; Dad always taught me to look for the good in people, and this does seem needlessly vindictive. But it’s concerned Lydia enough to give me a heads-up when she could have kept quiet. She didn’t have to drop Jeff in it. And delivering the news wasn’t easy for her. She took absolutely no joy in telling me, of that I am entirely certain. In the end I fall asleep as the sun comes up. The rest of the weekend is a complete write-off.
* * *
By the time I get into work on Monday, the feeling of dread has intensified, and I feel out of control and jittery. Carlina, of course, notices, and she pulls me into a meeting room, and tells me in her straight to the point, no messing sort of way that she knows something is up, and I might as well spit it out, and I, exhausted but still running on the adrenaline of it all, tell her everything.
‘Don’t hug me,’ I say, wiping an errant tear from my bottom eyelid. ‘I don’t want anyone to know about this really. I feel so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. Who behaves like that, Carlina?’
‘It’s okay,’ she says, and she takes my hand over the table. ‘We’re going to contain the shit out of this. I’ll get it sorted. No one who doesn’t need to will ever know. I got you.’
‘Thank you,’ I sniff. ‘I don’t know what to say to Maxine. It’s made me want to curb the whole blog once and for all, delete the entire thing, but people love it. If I could just go back and… not send that photo.’
‘It’s okay,’ she soothes. ‘We all do things like this, and you would never have guessed they’d know each other. I mean, what are the chances? Look, don’t say anything yet. This might come to nothing. If we can shut it down, you can carry on and we can forget this was ever an issue. And if they do somehow get out, you can turn it round. Start a discussion and fully own it.’
‘I guess they are only tits,’ I say.
‘Exactly! And they are just childish boys who are pissed off they didn’t get to see them in the flesh.’
She opens the fridge and hands me a can of Coke. ‘Get this in you. You’re pale as fuck. You need the sugar.’
‘You’re a good friend,’ I say.
‘I’m the best friend. And the best work spouse, much better than Ollie. Let’s go for a fag.’
After our break we discreetly nip over to Sarah in IT and explain, with as few words as possible, what’s happened, and she’s unfazed. I don’t know Tim or Louis’ email addresses so they can’t block anything, but anything coming in with attachments will be flagged.
‘You would not believe the amount of porn we get sent,’ Sarah says. ‘And do you see any of it?’
‘No,’ I admit.
‘Exactly. I’ll let you know if anything untoward lands in the inboxes, but realistically if you’re going to be revenge-porned, it’s going to come from a newly set up, super generic email address.’
‘Imagine if either of them are dumb enough to send it from work?’ Carlina smirks.
‘Oh, none of them are that dumb,’ Sarah says, and I think, well that’s fucking perfect.
* * *
Still, despite feeling marginally better about it all, I can’t concentrate, because it hasn’t escaped me that those photos could crop up anywhere online, and I skip out early, stopping off to buy comfort food on the way home. Suze is back today, and this time I’ve really missed her. It was lonely in the flat all weekend, and I could really do with her advice over wine and carbohydrates. She’s sorting her laundry when I arrive home, and she knows something’s not quite right from the way I open the wine and pour us both large glasses. We put cheesy garlic bread in the oven and whip up chilli prawns and linguine and I tell her everything. The whole sorry tale, starting with the photo I sent to Tim and ending with my chat with Sarah today.
‘Fucking bastard men,’ she says. ‘It’s all just so… disappointing. So petty. Such a shitty, pathetic vindictive takedown. And for what? Embarrassment for you?’
‘It would be hugely embarrassing, Suze,’ I say, refilling my glass, and topping it up with a little soda water. Suze chews her lip and looks thoughtful before speaking again.
‘Yes, but only in the short term. Not to take away from this, but they have a photo of a pair of tits. It’s not like it’s a sex tape. You’re not Fran Kardashian. I really think Carlina might have had a point about owning it.’
‘I shouldn’t have to own it. I shouldn’t have to deal with having this over me.’
‘Absolutely not,’ she says, quickly. ‘All I’m saying is, if y
ou let this get to you, and if you take down your blog then Louis and Tim have won. If you flip them a giant V and hold your head high you still have the power. And anyway, it’s not like anything you wrote was a lie, right?’
‘Right. And I changed the name.’
‘So they can’t even prove you were talking about them.’
‘I guess,’ I say, but I’m unsure, because, well, there’s the small matter of the charity fundraiser I set up. Suze doesn’t push it any further. She can tell when I’m feeling delicate, god knows she’s seen it enough over the last few months.
‘Look, did I ever tell you about the passenger we had on board once who showed all the female crew his junk?’
‘No?’ I say, appalled. Suze screws up her face.
‘Filthy bastard. He was seated in the very back row. Three seats to himself, which seemed odd because it was a full flight and he had bought all these seats. Anyway, during the drinks service he whips it out. My colleague told the cabin service supervisor, who had a word. There are procedures, you know? We have to try and defuse the situation. A male colleague served him for the rest of the flight, but as we were starting to descend he did it again, to another female crew member. Pulls his blanket up and there it is. She said it was winking at her.’
‘Gross. What happened?’
‘The pilot had him offloaded,’ she grins. ‘We were close enough not to divert but as soon as we landed, Jesus! The police were waiting. They stormed on. He was escorted off the plane and arrested. The look on his face was priceless. He’s never allowed to fly with us again.’
‘Too right,’ I say.
‘The point of this story is that sometimes even though reacting quickly and loudly feels like the best way to get your point across, if you step back from it all, look at it objectively, there’s usually a more effective way of shutting it down that they won’t see coming. They will not be expecting you to embrace your boobs on the internet. Think about it. If you shake it off, they have nothing. Pair of arseholes.’
* * *
In the middle of the night the message alert on my phone chimes, waking me up from a dream where I hadn’t plastered my love life all over the internet and I spent my time making video shorts with my friend, and I bask in how that feels for a few seconds before reaching for my phone. Suddenly I’m wide awake, squinting at the screen, ignoring the sting in my eyes as they adjust to the glare through the darkness.
Fran, I’m back. It all went to shit in Thailand. Lou’s still out there. Feel like helping me drown my sorrows? I’d really like to see you.
and then,
Sorry if this wakes you up x
Ollie!
Chapter Thirty-Five
I’m calling him before I even have time to fully register what’s happened. He answers in a whisper after the third ring.
‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m at my mum’s in Eastcote,’ he says. ‘I arrived this morning. Well, technically yesterday morning I guess. I’m sorry for waking you. I just… well I was having trouble getting to sleep.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I say. ‘It’s absolutely fine.’
‘Nah, you have work tomorrow, we can talk another time. I didn’t think you’d see the text until the morning. Most people put their phones on silent at night.’
‘Well, it is the morning. And we’ll talk now. Just until I know you’re alright.’
‘I’m not really alright, Fran,’ he sighs. ‘She cheated on me with some Kiwi prick in Bangkok. I saw them together. We didn’t even get to the nice beachy islands, like we’d planned.’
‘Fuck me running,’ I gasp. ‘I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.’
‘She asked me to check into a different room at the hotel. But they were fully booked—’
‘Hang on. She cheated on you and then asked you to fork out for a new room. The brass neck of it.’
I’m bristling. I’m so cross for him.
‘Yep. But she backed down when we found out there were no rooms. Honestly, it wasn’t a good night. We perched on the edges of the bed for a bit and then I gave up and slept on the couch with a blanket. When I woke up in the morning there was a note saying she’d gone out early, and I knew where she’d gone, so I just thought, fuck it, and came home.’
There’s so much I want to say to him about how horrible she is. And how she never deserved a man as good as him. It bubbles up inside me. Scratches at my throat. Clamours to get out. But he sighs down the phone and I know that this is neither the time nor the place. He doesn’t need me bitching about the person he was in love with. He just needs me to be kind.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say instead.
‘Can we hang out soon?’ he asks in a little, quiet voice. It’s tinged with sadness. I want to hug him and stroke back his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay.
‘We can hang out whenever you like. I can sack off work tomorrow. We can do something.’
‘Don’t worry about sacking off work. How about Friday?’ he asks, and I, not wanting to face work tomorrow, wish he’d said yes. ‘I think I’m going to sleep for a lot of the week, try not to think about it. And Mum is definitely going to fuss.’
‘Friday it is,’ I say. ‘Text me where. Or I can visit Dad this weekend and we can do the Ruislip thing.’
‘I’ll come up your way,’ he says. ‘I’ll probably be stir crazy at Mum’s by then.’
‘Of course. Whatever you like,’ I say.
‘Also, Fran, can I ask a favour? Can we just keep this between us? Really could do with not having everyone at Viral Hive knowing. I’m staying off the internet for a bit. Need some time, you know?’
‘Absolutely. It’s in the vault. I’d have only mentioned it to Carlina anyway.’
‘That’s who I’m worried about,’ he laughs. ‘You get back to sleep now, okay?’
I’m unsure if I’ll be able to, but I say, ‘I’ll text you in a few hours,’ anyway.
‘Okay. Goodnight.’
‘Ollie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I really missed you, and I’m glad you’re back.’
‘Thanks. I missed you too, Fran.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘I have news!’ I say when I get into work. Carlina looks up. ‘Oh. Sinjin and Mickey not here yet?’
‘No, they are. They’re off making coffee and breakfast,’ Carlina shrugs. ‘Anyway, what’s your news?’ She eyes me suspiciously, probably wondering if I am going to go all vigilante after my revenge porn threats and lure Louis and Tim to an abandoned carpark somewhere to off them.
‘Ah Sinjin won’t care anyway. I’m going to wind down the blog. Put it out solely to community submissions.’
‘Oh. This isn’t because of Silly Bollocks and The Knob is it?’
‘Of course it is. Think of it as lying low for a little while.’
‘Bummer. I have to tell you, I’m sort of gutted we won’t be playing Tinder at lunchtime anymore.’
‘Ah, the whole thing had become soul-destroying. Mostly I either got an unpleasant photo or unmatched, or the conversation was so shockingly banal that I lost the will to live. So I’m taking a bit of time out to focus on Fran for a while, because I forgot about her for a bit. She needs to make a comeback, and all that time I dedicated to swiping and trying to have conversations, and worrying about dates, not to mention the bad dates themselves, can be spent seeing my friends, and being happy. That way when someone comes along, I’ll be in a much better place.’
‘You know what you need?’ Carlina says, slyly, and I know by the glint in her eye where she’s about to go. The same place she always goes. And today more than ever, I’d really like it if she didn’t. ‘Someone who you had great conversation with, where the air crackled with the electricity between you, who remembered how you like your coffee. Shame he’s halfway around the world, and spoken for.’ She shrugs and goes back to her screen.
‘Yep,’ I say, knowing different but
knowing also that I can’t say. ‘Guess it is.’
‘So you admit it then? Finally?’ She looks hopeful. Like she’s finally worn me down.
‘I’m not admitting anything, Carlina. But I know you’re talking about Ollie because you always talk about Ollie, and it’s easier to agree with you. Anyway, I think it’s probably time we stopped talking about Ollie now. That okay?’
Carlina looks sulky.
‘Sorry,’ she says, haughtily.
‘How’s your Disney research going?’ I ask, trying to lighten the mood a little.
‘Alright, I’m just looking for that realistic Disney character artwork that was doing the rounds a few years ago. The John Smith one was hot,’ she says, dreamily. ‘Also Tarzan. Also, Li Shang. Those pecs, oy!’
‘Prince Eric was hotter,’ I say.
‘Come to Mama,’ Carlina mutters, staring at her computer. I suspect she’s found the pictures.
‘What are you drooling over now?’ Sinjin says. He parks himself in his seat, and Mickey bounces around to hers.
‘Ohh, hot Disney drawings,’ she coos. ‘Where’s the dude from Tangled?’
‘They’re drawings, people, drawings,’ Sinjin mutters.
‘You can be such a killjoy,’ Carlina hisses.
‘Don’t tell us you never had the hots for a Disney character,’ Mickey giggles. ‘Everyone does. It’s totally normal.’
‘Lara Croft,’ he says, disinterested.
‘Ugh, no. Standard straight boy answer. Also not Disney.’
‘I bet Sinjin crushed on a character that wasn’t human,’ Carlina says. She glances up over the top of our computer monitors at him. He concentrates very hard on his keyboard and blushes, and now even I am interested.
‘The French maid duster in Beauty and the Beast?’ Mickey guesses. ‘Oh, I know! The girl mouse in Chip ’n’ Dale Rescue Rangers?’
‘Dumbo’s mum?’ Carlina joins in.
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