Payback

by Gemma Rogers

  ‘You know the party?’

  ‘The Halloween party?’ Becca replied, twirling spaghetti around her fork.

  ‘No, the other party, I mean gathering, you know that night,’ James emphasised the word and to my surprise I saw Robyn pull a face. I’d momentarily forgotten; there were two of us at the table who’d slept with James now.

  ‘What about it? Because I don’t think Robyn is up for a trip down memory lane,’ Mark said, a smirk forming on his face.

  Robyn gave him a whack and I was surprised to see James’s cheeks flush a little.

  ‘Went so well I started dating women,’ Robyn joked and winked at James.

  ‘Ha ha,’ he conceded before continuing, ‘well, Sophie’s been receiving messages about it.’

  ‘You have too,’ I shot back, cross at being thrown under the bus.

  ‘Yes, sorry, I have as well, two actually. We wondered if you’d had anything sent to you recently?’ James said, putting his hand over mine and looking at the others in turn. I wanted to brush it off, but I knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

  ‘When you say cards?’ Robyn asked, fishing for more information.

  James was about to reply, but I interrupted him. It hadn’t got past me that in a stark contrast to everyone’s alcohol glow, Becca had gone deathly pale.

  ‘Becca, are you okay?’

  ‘I have,’ she replied, ‘I got one last week.’

  23

  October 2018

  From Mark’s grave expression, it was obvious he knew nothing of it. He manoeuvred his whole body around to his wife, eyes narrowed.

  ‘What card?’

  ‘It had cherries on it,’ Becca whispered.

  ‘What did it say?’ James asked.

  ‘I didn’t understand it at the time, thought it was for someone else. I didn’t think it was what you were talking about over lunch.’ Becca glanced at me, her eyes damp.

  ‘What did it say?’ Mark interrupted, an urgency in his voice that wasn’t there before. He was as in the dark as the rest of us.

  ‘It read “she wasn’t as lucky as you”, but I had no idea it was about that night. I didn’t think about the cherries on the front.’

  ‘I was the same, I didn’t get the cherry meaning straight away either,’ I said, trying to comfort Becca, who looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

  ‘Was the envelope handwritten?’ I asked and Becca nodded.

  ‘Hand-delivered?’ James added.

  Becca’s eyes looked watery as she nodded again.

  After a minute or so, James picked up his fork and began to move food around his plate. We followed suit, although everyone’s appetite appeared to have diminished.

  ‘Has there been more, since what you told us last time?’ Robyn asked me, eyes glaring.

  I told them about the flowers, my open front door and the condom thrown at the agency window. That I’d recently sold 32 Park Lane, and how someone had been so keen for me to be the one to sell it they’d bombarded the owner with flyers.

  ‘Perhaps they wanted you to go back there? A trip down memory lane,’ Robyn suggested.

  ‘Maybe. Someone has an issue with the party, with me, but I have no idea who. I didn’t think anyone else knew but us.’

  ‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ Becca said, affronted.

  ‘Me neither,’ Robyn added.

  Nods of confirmation around the table followed. It looked as though no one had divulged how we all lost our virginity on the same night, under the same roof.

  ‘Whoever it is knows where we live.’ Mark’s eyes narrowed and he laid his hand over Becca’s on the table. Their gaze met for a second, a comforting exchange.

  ‘It has to be Hayley, who else could it be? Gareth’s dead, Elliot’s in Oz,’ James said.

  ‘Yes, but why and why now?’ I asked, my eyes darting around the table.

  ‘Fuck knows, sometimes people do crazy shit, I should know,’ Mark replied. He was right, Mark worked for the MET police in London. He’d joined at twenty and worked his way through the ranks.

  ‘I’ve searched for her online, I think we all have, but no one knows what happened to her or where she moved to,’ I said.

  ‘What was her last name again?’ Mark asked.

  ‘Keeble,’ Robyn supplied.

  ‘Let me take a look when I go back to work. If there’s a nutter out there, I want to know who it is. I’ve got a family to protect.’ Mark stopped to take a mouthful of his pint before continuing. ‘Listen, Soph, keep a record of everything. Every note through the door, every call. Write it all down. If you receive anything, try not to touch it. Just call the police. Don’t engage at all. That’s what they want.’ Mark closed the conversation down, and we moved on to reminiscing about our schooldays. However, the fun had evaporated, and Becca never fully regained her colour. Something she’d initially thought insignificant could now be a threat to her family.

  From Donatella’s, we hit a couple of bars, ending the night in a club built under the seafront and designed like a tube tunnel, right down to the white brick tiles. The music was too fast, too techno, and no matter how much we drank, the weight of earlier never left. I didn’t remember a lot after Mark ordered shots in an attempt to liven us up. Robyn got collected and Becca had to drag Mark home. James managed to find the hotel when we stumbled out onto the street at two a.m. and I woke on Sunday morning to the grating sound of seagulls. My head feeling like it would explode.

  ‘Owwwwww,’ I wailed, rolling over to find my bed empty. Where on earth was James? ‘James?’ My voice cracking, I heard a grunt from the bathroom.

  James appeared on his hands and knees, still fully clothed.

  ‘Christ.’ I laughed, although the effort was akin to fireworks going off inside my skull. My phone started buzzing as soon as I switched it on. The memory of a WhatsApp group we’d set up including Elliot came back to me and messages flooded the screen. Photos of James and I kissing. Becca and Robyn dancing, Mark doing shots with a stranger at the bar flashed up. Elliot had just messaged to say it was a shame he’d missed our reunion and we’d have to have the next one in Brisbane.

  James got to his feet, so slow he looked in stealth mode, and sat on the bed. His pallor had a green tinge to it.

  ‘I think I better drive home, don’t you?’

  I dropped James back and put him to bed before calling a cab to take me home. I’d invited Mum and Dad around for dinner, knowing I wouldn’t be back in time for Sunday lunch at theirs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, pre-hangover. Mum would be pleased she wouldn’t have to cook, and Dad always enjoyed coming to the flat. I don’t believe he ever wanted to move, but Mum wanted a clean break from the business that had been their lives for the past thirty years. If they stayed, she knew he’d be popping his head around the door every day, checking in and it would drive me mad. She was right.

  Now, standing in the fridge aisle of the supermarket feeling shivery and nauseous, it didn’t seem like such a good idea. The last thing I wanted to do was eat. I grabbed a large lasagne, some pull-apart garlic flatbread and a Caesar salad for the side. That would have to do. Dad was more of a meat and two veg kind of man, hence the reason they’d had a roast every Sunday since they got married. But I couldn’t face dealing with any kind of meat preparation, it was going to be hard enough to eat as it was. I knew the hangover was bad when even the offer of a fry-up at the hotel before we’d driven home couldn’t tempt me. I’d managed to consume a black coffee and slice of dry toast, which when swallowed felt like sandpaper.

  I tidied before my parents arrived at four, it was as much as I could manage, and more hiding things in cupboards than any sort of cleaning. However, I’d forgotten to remove the photograph from the fridge and typically it was the first thing Mum saw.

  ‘Why’s Gareth crossed out?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mum, I think I did it accidentally,’ I lied, changing the subject. ‘Do you like the new front door?’

  ‘Very nice, love, bet tha
t keeps the warmth in a treat,’ Dad said, wriggling out of his coat. He wrapped me into a hug, and I couldn’t resist clinging to him for as long as possible. There was nothing like a hug from your dad when things were rough, no matter how old you were. ‘Everything all right?’ Noticing my reluctance to let him go.

  ‘Fine, Dad, everything’s fine.’ I smiled, hoping he wouldn’t see straight through me.

  ‘What’s with the camera out front then?’ he asked. He never bloody missed a trick.

  ‘Just getting a bit more security-conscious, that’s all. I’ve heard there’s been a couple of attempted break-ins locally,’ I lied.

  Dad raised an eyebrow but didn’t push for more details.

  ‘There’s a new Doctor Who tonight, a woman! I’ve recorded it.’ Mum said as I dished up.

  ‘I know. There’ll be a female Bond next,’ I said conspiratorially as Dad tutted in our direction.

  By the time we ate, I felt better, more human. My appetite returned and the pints of water I’d knocked back since I’d been home had gone some way to rehydrate my system.

  Over dinner, I broke the news to Mum that Gareth had been drinking when the accident happened. She wasn’t surprised, said that Sue had told her he liked a drink. Craig was the same apparently. I told them about my night out with the old crowd and how Mark was now in the police.

  ‘I thought you might have had that fella here, James isn’t it?’

  ‘No, not tonight, Mum.’

  ‘Are you putting off us meeting him, again?’

  I coughed and shook my head. My mouth full of garlic bread.

  ‘No why would I do that?’ I swallowed down the crust, the jagged edge stinging my throat.

  Mum shrugged. It was true, I hadn’t introduced a boyfriend to her for a few years. But after Ben, the last serious one, whom I caught actively seeking other women on Tinder, I hadn’t wanted to open myself up to that again. That’s where the married men came in, until one of them wanted to leave his wife. It turned into a mess and my parents were better off not knowing the destructive rollercoaster I’d been on. I was ashamed of my behaviour and better off single, or so I’d thought until James.

  ‘Is your knee still okay? The stairs weren’t a problem, were they?’ I changed the subject.

  ‘Yes, it’s much better thanks. Back to normal.’

  ‘Here, I bought you this yesterday in Brighton,’ I said, fishing the trinket box out of my bag.

  Mum looked at it with delight, turning it around in her hands. ‘Oh, it’s lovely, thank you.’

  When we’d finished eating, Mum tried to muscle in on the washing up, but I was having none of it.

  ‘Go sit, Mum. Tell me about your trip to Lancing yesterday, was it cold?

  ‘Bloody freezing, that wind blowing in from the sea was bitter.’ She laughed.

  I made us all a cup of tea and the conversation turned to Whites, Dad wanted to hear how the business was doing. I beamed as I told them what a successful few weeks we’d had, and how we were well ahead of targeted profits. Dad’s eyes twinkled and he relaxed back in his seat, comforted to hear the family business was doing well. When it got to half past seven, they decided to make a move and I walked them out, Dad stopping to admire the new front door.

  ‘Sophie, there’s a present left here for you. I almost fell over it,’ Mum tutted, handing me a large wrapped box decorated with a yellow bow.

  My heart sank, but I plastered on a smile as I took it from her. I knew it wouldn’t be from James.

  ‘Goodness, you’re a lucky girl,’ Mum said, giving me a kiss and thanking me for dinner. Dad did the same, squeezing me tight and I watched as they got into their car and drove away.

  I carried the box inside, placing it on the table. It was so light I assumed it was empty, wrapped in blue paper with multicoloured polka dots, its garish yellow oversized bow on the top.

  There was a lid, but I didn’t want to open it. Nothing good would be inside. It would be another message, another riddle as to what this was all for. My imagination took over, what if it was a dead cat, or a bomb? Or someone’s head? I couldn’t hear any ticking but the box was so light it unnerved me. It could be a mind game and I could be freaking out over an empty box. If only I had a camera at that door too. I was so sick of this game and wanted to scream into the air: ‘What’s your fucking problem?’ but what would be the point? No one was there to listen.

  24

  September 1997

  After I spoke to Hayley, I tried to call Gareth. His brother, Craig, answered the phone sounding hungover, and told me Gareth was out. He didn’t know where and didn’t offer any suggestions either. Helpful wasn’t a word I’d use to describe him. He couldn’t wait to get off the phone either, cutting me off before I could say goodbye. He was so rude.

  Next, I called Becca, who was high-pitched and excitable. She’d already arranged for Robyn to come over this morning and invited me too. I didn’t say anything about Hayley on the phone, I wanted to wait until we were all together. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something important. Worse than Gareth rejecting Hayley, if there was anything crueller? Hayley must be devastated, but until I spoke to Gareth, I couldn’t be sure what had happened.

  ‘Hi.’ Becca grinned as she swung open the front door later, standing aside for me to come through.

  I saw Robyn’s trainers in the hall as I slipped off mine. Becca’s parents had a posh detached home on one of the most expensive streets in the village. Well, it’s what I’d heard Dad say. Their home was fitted with cream carpets throughout and no one was ever allowed past the doormat with shoes on.

  Becca swung her arms around my neck in an unexpected clinch, squashing me against her ample breasts. ‘Thank you for last night. It was amazing.’ I saw her eyes cloud with tears as she pulled back. Why was she so emotional?

  ‘Are you and Mark going out now?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep,’ she squealed, bounding up the stairs.

  I followed, struggling to match her enthusiasm.

  ‘Hey,’ Robyn said as I entered the bedroom. She was sat cross-legged on Becca’s bed, clutching one of her cushions. Boyzone, a guilty pleasure of Becca’s, played in the background. Her bedroom was a suite, fit for a princess, with her own bathroom. Her white wooden bed had a pink voile canopy and satin bedspread decorated with around ten co-ordinating cushions. It would irritate the hell out of me putting them on and off every day, although I doubted she ever made her own bed. I clenched my jaw as I surveyed her new dressing table and mirror. Unable to stop the jealousy seeping in.

  She was spoilt, but I wasn’t being fair, Becca was far from a brat. She was super nice and down-to-earth, even though her parents had money. But it was annoying that she always had the best of everything, and all the latest gear before we did. She was the first of us to get a pair of Levi’s and she had four pairs of Reebok’s classics in a variety of colours, whereas the rest of us had one scuffed pair we wore daily.

  So, how did it go with Elliot?’ Robyn’s eyes glinted.

  ‘Fine. He was sweet actually,’ I said and the girls stared at me. Robyn’s lip curled into a smirk.

  ‘And?’ Becca pushed.

  ‘And what?’ I replied.

  Robyn threw her cushion at me, which bounced off my arm, making her laugh so much she flopped onto the carpet. I was so eager for this, for us to meet afterwards and swap the dirty details, but now I was here, it wasn’t as fun as I’d envisaged. What had happened between Gareth and Hayley had left a bad taste in my mouth. They had ruined it.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell. He was sweet and funny; we had a laugh.’

  ‘But did you do it?’ Becca asked.

  ‘Yes, we did it,’ I enunciated each word.

  Robyn leant forward, wanting more than I was prepared to give.

  ‘What about you two?’ It was my turn to ask.

  ‘It was awkward,’ Robyn laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘James was so nervous, and we struggled a bit to get going but ma
naged in the end.’ It sounded as I’d feared it would be. I was relieved I’d chosen Elliot over James. Robyn had declared, when partners were discussed, that she didn’t care either way.

  ‘What about you and Mark?’ I asked Becca.

  ‘It was amazing. Magical,’ Becca said wistfully, and another cushion flew across the room hitting her square in the chest.

  ‘She’s in love!’ Robyn sniggered, but Becca didn’t protest and she didn’t seem to mind the teasing either. She was a ball of energy, unable to keep still, face glowing, but I still felt Hayley and Gareth had put a dampener on last night. I should be in that same bubble, excited about my step into adulthood. I didn’t voice that though; the others might think I was a bitch.

  At least something good had come out of last night. Seeing Becca’s face light up made it worthwhile. I could take credit for being a matchmaker. Maybe I was being too hard on myself, assuming responsibility for what went wrong with Hayley and Gareth. Last night was more like a social experiment than anything else. They’d all agreed, no one had been forced into relinquishing anything. But, the tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, some were coerced.

  ‘Heard from Hay? I tried to ring her this morning, but her mum said she was in the bath,’ Robyn said.

  ‘Kind of. I spoke to her, but she was weird. I don’t think they went through with it. I have a horrible feeling Gareth ditched her,’ I admitted.

  ‘Fuck!’ Becca slumped onto the bed, like a deflated balloon.