by Gemma Rogers
Later that afternoon, around six, the others had left for the day when James arrived with a bulging holdall. I briefly met his mum who dropped him off and invited her up for a cup of tea, but she said she had to get back.
We spent the evening on the sofa before I convinced James, with a few kisses, that we should have an early night. He was still pretty sore; his doctor had given him another batch of antibiotics and I’d been warned to be gentle with him.
I was thankful when Friday arrived, it had been one hell of a week. All of the paperwork was now through for Park Lane, gearing up for exchange of contracts. I’d be glad when that property was sold. It felt like a bad omen, forever tainted. Everything was connected to it. The sale was due to go through and complete next week; I could hand the keys to a new owner and perhaps the history would erase itself.
Frank had been kept in hospital longer than planned as there had been an issue with his blood sugar levels. It seemed like all the lunches from the bakers were contributing to an early diagnosis of type two diabetes. Diane was not happy, and he was being sent home today with a strict diet to follow in the hope it could be reversed. I couldn’t wait to see him but wanted to give him a couple of days at home to get settled first. Plus, I was dreading facing the wrath of Diane.
I dragged myself out of bed after another lousy night’s sleep. James was still snoring beside me, the noise a comfort, although I was sure that would change. My phone pinged as soon as I switched it on, a tirade of messages from the WhatsApp group. Another photo of us all from Brighton, one from Elliot buried up to his neck in the sand. Becca had said Mark’s diagnosis was good and they were hoping to release him in a few days. The swelling on his brain had almost gone, and he was recovering well. Robyn was staying with Chloe’s parents and she was safe. I was pleased to read that she’d got the job as the blood courier. I composed a message to say James was healing and I was looking after him at the flat, which got an instant smiley face and heart emoji from Robyn. Hayley was doing her best to ruin us all, but we were pushing on, living as best we could in the circumstances.
Mum text in the morning to say she’d received something through the door pertaining to me, but she wouldn’t say what it was. Alarm bells rang in my head. Whenever Mum was upset, her voice would go shrill and it was a dead giveaway as to why she didn’t call. I knew how long it took her to compose a text. I said I’d be over later, fighting the urge to rush there now and see what had been sent. Whatever it was, it would be bad. I hoped it didn’t mean I’d have to spill the beans about everything. What did my parents have to do with Hayley? Why was she getting them involved?
I showered and dressed in little enthusiasm for the day ahead. I was tired of the fight. I just wanted the nightmare to end. What had we done that was so wrong?
I came down at quarter to nine to find the office already full. Gary had made tea for everyone, including me. I knew straight away something wasn’t right, the atmosphere was tense, and Lucy was frantic, swearing at her machine with frustration.
‘What’s happened?’
Gary answered, frowning at me, his hands on his hips. ‘The system has gone down, looks like everything on the server has been wiped.’
41
November 2018
‘We’ve lost everything. All our property details, every document, every contact. It looks like a deliberate attack.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ I swore, storming into my office to find a business card I knew was in my top drawer. I tapped the number into my phone, and it rang once before being answered.
‘Hi, this is Dave,’ a droll voice said. Dave Harper was our contracted IT help. A stand-alone guy with his own business that looked after the servers, printers, hardware and any software we had installed, and could be called upon for any ad-hoc issues. I explained we had an emergency and he said he’d be right over.
‘Okay, business as usual – for now. Beth, do you remember if we had any viewings planned today?’
‘Only Nymans Drive, that was Lucy’s. Ten a.m., I think. Mr and Mrs Daniels.’
‘Great, thanks Beth. Lucy, you deal with that. Gary, I’ve got our IT guy on his way in. Hope, can you look after any walk-ins – take details by hand and show them anything we’ve got printed out.’
‘We’re up to date with the paper copies,’ Beth interjected. She was an amazing organiser, practically running the office from behind the scenes.
‘Brilliant. Hopefully this will be a blip and in a couple of hours everything will be recovered,’ I said, sounding more confident than I felt. I didn’t believe this was an accident.
When Dave Harper arrived twenty minutes later, I introduced him to Gary and he got started at his desk, finding the problem almost straight away. He ran some tests and entered some code to show the latest sequences actioned. It appeared that a virus had been uploaded last night.
‘From this office?’ I whispered, not wanting to be overheard.
‘Not necessarily. It could have been done remotely. I can’t tell. It doesn’t look like a professional job, but it’s definitely deliberate. We just need to put everything back on the server and download it from the cloud. Once you’re back up and running, I’ll write a stronger encryption and install malware software. Tougher than you had before.’
I stretched my neck from side to side, listening to it crack. My muscles were tight from hunching my shoulders. At least it was fixable, but it didn’t change the fact we’d been targeted. Or rather, I’d been targeted. I dreaded to think what Dave would invoice me.
‘All okay?’ Gary asked.
‘Yep, should be back within the hour,’ Dave replied, tapping on his keyboard so fast his fingers were a blur.
I slumped lower in my seat, willing the rest of the day, and the weekend, to be drama-free. I still had to navigate to my parents and see what they’d received. I hadn’t told them anything about Hayley and I wasn’t about to. I hoped I could pull the wool over their eyes, if nothing but for their own safety.
Dave still wasn’t finished at lunchtime, it appeared everything had been slow to reinstall due to an unrelated broadband service failure, so we closed the office for an hour and left him to work. Deciding to head to the café for lunch. It was busy, but we squeezed five of us on a table meant for four and dug into a selection of jacket potatoes and baguettes.
‘What do we have closing next week? Is anything likely to be impacted by today?’ I asked.
‘No, I doubt it. Two potential completions, if all goes to plan. Park Lane and Mason Close,’ Gary said, wiping his mouth with a napkin to remove a dollop of brown sauce, leaked from his bacon baguette.
Hope coughed, spluttering on her tea, liquid dripping from her nose. She covered her face with her hand and Gary handed her a clean napkin.
‘Wrong hole,’ she squeaked, her eyes streaming.
Gary gave her a gentle pat on the back, but I didn’t miss her miniscule flinch at his touch. Had something happened between them? Gary, on the other hand, was oblivious and carried on tearing at his baguette like it was his first meal this year. I wrinkled my nose. Lucy giggled and nudged my knee under the table. There wasn’t enough room to swing a cat, it was claustrophobic.
‘I’m going to nip out for a ciggie.’ I stood up too fast, the blood rushing from my head, and wobbled for a second.
‘I’ll join you.’ Hope stood and we made for the door, the cold breeze smacking us in the face as soon as we opened it.
‘I felt like I couldn’t breathe in there,’ I admitted, trying to light my cigarette with little success.
‘Here.’ Hope opened her coat and shielded us to get the lighter to work. ‘He’s so gross, I can’t bear to watch him eat.’ Her nostrils flared, inhaling deeply.
‘Hmmmm,’ I agreed, although I didn’t want to start bad-mouthing Gary. It didn’t look good coming from the boss.
‘You smoking full-time now?’ Hope asked, sucking hard on the filter.
‘Trying not to go back to that, just every now and then.
So, you got yourself a new car yet?’ I said, changing the subject.
Hope narrowed her eyes at me.
‘You said you and your mum went to look at them?’
Then the penny dropped. ‘No, not yet. She likes Fords, I like VWs but can’t afford one. Anyway, how’s things with you and that fella of yours, what’s his name?’
‘James,’ I said without hesitation before adding, ‘he’s moved in, for the time being anyway.’
‘Ahh, he seemed like a nice guy when he came in. Most of them end up being lying, vindictive bastards,’ Hope spat.
My eyes widened at her choice of words. ‘Not all of them.’
‘Nah they’re all the same,’ Hope said, flicking her cigarette high into the road before turning on her heels and slipping through the café door. Leaving me staring after her.
Back at the office, the servers were up and running and the installation of a new protective and more secure firewall had been completed. I thanked Dave and asked him to send me his invoice so I could pay him as soon as possible. He was handy to have on speed dial and over the past few years had been the saviour of numerous crisis. I didn’t want to think about how much personal data had been floating in the ether.
I popped upstairs to the flat, but James wasn’t there, he’d left me a note to say he’d been called to see his editor about a potential magazine feature and would be back later.
‘Can you to lock up when you leave?’ I said to Gary when I returned to the office, fearing I couldn’t put off Mum and Dad any longer. I lay the bunch of keys on Gary’s desk, noticing his ears tinge pink at the significance of being left with the responsibility. He scooped them into his pocket. ‘Let me show you how to set the alarm.’ Before leaving, I ran through the keys, locks and alarm, how to set and reset it with the code, which Gary absorbed with the concentration of a surgeon mid-operation.
The atmosphere when I arrived at my parents could be cut with a knife. Mum’s eyes were red-rimmed and Dad sat in the front room, so engrossed in the crossword he didn’t respond when I said hello.
‘What’s up?’ I gestured at Mum’s eyes.
‘Oh nothing, onions,’ she replied, and I could tell she was lying. Mum was about as good at it as I was. She stood at the stove, stirring a risotto continuously which smelt delicious. ‘It’s over there.’ She signalled towards a pile on the table, newspapers and catalogues and a leaflet with my photo on. A professional one taken from the Whites website. SLUT stamped across the top in big black letters.
‘Nice,’ I muttered sarcastically, sliding into a chair.
‘Read it,’ Mum bit back.
I did as I was told.
This is Sophie White.
Sophie White is a SLUT!
When Sophie was fifteen, she organised an orgy at an empty property being marketed by her parents’ estate agency. The one she now runs.
She and her friends all had sex with one another at Sophie’s request.
Sophie is a SLUT!
Don’t be like Sophie.
It was so ridiculous I almost laughed, but one look at Mum’s thunderous face stopped me.
‘Tell me it’s not true.’ Dad’s voice came as a surprise, I looked up to see him filling the doorway. His face lined and wispy grey chest hair poking out from beneath the neck of his polo shirt. He looked like he’d aged another ten years.
My stomach clenched. ‘Of course, it’s not true, Dad. What do you take me for?’
‘Is it all lies? Tell me that isn’t how Hayley got pregnant? At some orgy you organised?’ I’d never heard my mum speak to me in such a venomous tone and I was taken aback. She didn’t break eye contact with me, we were at a stand-off, all the time her arm kept stirring as though she was possessed.
‘Answer your mother,’ my dad snapped. I stood to leave. I’d had enough.
‘Sit down.’ Dad’s fist thumped the table.
I recoiled, tears pricked my eyes and I balled my hands into fists. ‘It’s partly true. We had a gathering. We lost our virginity. We didn’t all have sex with each other, we each had sex with one person,’ I clarified matter-of-factly.
‘Jesus Christ,’ my mum hissed, and Dad shook his head, unwilling to look at me.
I was soiled and mad at being made to feel that way.
‘And what about the property? Did you steal the keys to one I was selling?’
I lowered my eyes; it was the only thing I was ashamed about. ‘Yes.’
‘How dare you. How could you have done that?’
‘Dad, I was fifteen, a teenager. Teenagers do stupid shit like that.’ I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, which enraged me further. I hadn’t cried in front of my parents for years.
Dad walked out of the room, the conversation over. I looked at Mum, but she’d turned her back on me, still stirring.
‘You do realise I’m thirty-six and this was over twenty years ago?’ I raised my voice. No one replied.
I grabbed my coat and marched from the house. Fury running through my veins like lava, shooting my adrenaline sky-high. A volcano spilling over and destroying all below it. I screamed into my steering wheel as I started the car.
42
November 2018
I entered The Boar half an hour later and sat at the bar. I’d parked my car outside the office and walked straight to the pub without bothering to go home first.
‘Jack Daniels please, a double. Make that two actually.’
Phil was behind the bar and didn’t bat an eyelid. He lined the drinks in front of me and I paid. Necking one and starting on the second.
When I was on my sixth and starting to relax, Gary tapped me on the shoulder.
‘Do you want to join us?’ he asked, pointing to the table, where Colin and the other Osbornes staff were sitting.
‘No, I’m all right, thanks though.’
‘No worries,’ he replied unfazed, returning to his table. Anger fizzed at the tips of my fingers. So powerful I felt like I could shoot laser beams from them. The need to hit something, to run, to expend energy was only quelled by the trickling of alcohol into my bloodstream and its numbing qualities. What right did my parents have to make me feel like that? Were they never young and foolish? What I did with my body was up to me. It was my decision to make, mine to live with. I hadn’t regretted anything until recently. Now, I wish that stupid party had never happened, but I couldn’t turn back time. I was so livid, I never wanted to speak to my parents again.
Phil ringing the bell at the end of the bar to call time jogged me from the pit I was wallowing in. A graveyard of empty half-pint glasses littered the bar. Telling the story of my evening.
‘Come on, I’ll walk you home,’ Gary said, appearing from nowhere and slipping on his jacket.
We stumbled down the road, fireworks cracking overhead. I hadn’t even realised the display was on. Gary talked about a new restaurant opening around the corner that we should visit, but I wasn’t listening. James was standing at the door, frowning. I’d texted him earlier to say I’d be home late, although he probably thought it would be earlier than chucking-out time at the pub.
‘I’ll take her from here,’ he said, guiding me inside. ‘Thanks for bringing her home.’
‘No problem.’ Gary said goodnight and turned to leave as I pulled myself up the stairs and headed straight for bed.
Bright sunlight streaming through open curtains woke me in the morning, my head spinning. I vacated the bed; the stench of alcohol permeated the air. I threw open the window and called out to James, but there was no answer. It was past ten on Saturday morning and I should have been in the office. My phone had registered two missed calls and a text from James last night. He’d probably gone back home, pissed off at me for ignoring him. I gritted my teeth, remembering being too drunk to respond to him.
I threw on some clothes and brushed my hair, wiping the mascara smudges from under my eyes and spraying a mist of perfume in the air above my head. I’d fucked up at work, with James and my parents too.
<
br /> In the office, Gary took one look at me and tried to stifle a laugh.
‘Are you all right?’
‘No,’ I admitted, rubbing my forehead.
‘Your top’s on back to front.’
‘Fuck! Sorry, Gary, sorry to leave you in the lurch this morning.’
‘It’s fine, go back to bed. I’ve got it covered. Hope’s in too. I’m office manager now remember, so let me manage.’ He smiled conspiratorially.
‘Thank you, and thanks for getting me home last night,’ I said, my stomach rolling over as I headed back upstairs.
I sat in the bath for a long time, until the water grew cold and forced me out. I usually enjoyed soaking with a good book, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than dwelling on how my life had turned into a shitshow. As though it was a penance, I spent the rest of the day cleaning, scrubbing every inch of the flat with bleach until my fingers stung. Waiting to hear back from James after I text through an apology this morning.
I half expected my mum to call, to apologise and try and smooth things over, but she didn’t. A heavy weight sat on my chest now the anger had dissipated. I’d never fallen out with my parents as an adult. Half of me had the mindset of, sod it, they’ll need me more than I need them soon. But I was being an arse and licking my wounds. Which were still fresh the day after.
Who knew how long my parents would be around for? Look what happened to Frank. I didn’t want to fight over something that happened twenty years ago. I could hear my dad’s voice in my ear ‘But it’s the principle’ and winced. Yesterday, in their kitchen, I was that teenager again, getting scolded for a detention at school or talking back to my mother. It was demeaning.
James came back, knocking on the door around six that evening, it reminded me that I had to get him a key cut. I’d had two with the new front door but had given the spare to my parents. He’d been out to Ikea with his sister Marie, who had recently bought her first house, and carried in a bag of tea lights and a cushion with a sloth on it, he’d bought for me. He was a little frosty, more so because a man he didn’t know, or recognise, had walked me home. Once I’d told him who Gary was and that he’d got me home safe as I was so wasted, he softened. James was outraged by the flyers and understood my reaction to the dressing-down I’d received from my parents.
