Circle of Doubt

by Buchanan, Tracy

  ‘Totally agree!’ Lucy said.

  ‘You sound like Kitty Fletcher,’ Faye said, and Emma couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘I’d take that as a compliment if I were you, Myra,’ Lucy said, jutting her chin out. ‘All Myra is saying is that if you fill your children with crap, their brains will turn to crap.’

  Isla’s shoulders sank, and Emma felt like getting up and taking her in her arms.

  ‘I’m a huge fan of pizza actually,’ Lawrence said to Isla. ‘Hasn’t done me any harm, has it?’

  Isla’s eyes lit up, and Emma wanted to reach right over and hug Lawrence for that.

  Everyone around the table laughed except for Lucy and Myra.

  When their food was brought over, Emma watched with amusement as Poppy looked at her seabass with utter disgust.

  ‘Well, bon appétit!’ Lawrence said, lifting his glass.

  Everyone echoed him, then tucked into their food, apart from Myra’s son Justin who, despite Myra’s constant nagging, refused to touch his sea bass and instead stole one of Isla’s chicken nuggets.

  ‘He’s got a bit of a funny tummy,’ Myra said, trying to make excuses for her son.

  Lawrence caught Emma’s eye and they both smiled.

  ‘So, I was impressed with your proposal,’ he said. ‘I’ll get Myra to send the letter of agreement to you as soon as she can, then we can get to work.’

  ‘Can’t wait!’ Emma said. And she really couldn’t. She’d never worked with an architect before and was looking forward to the challenge. Though she wasn’t sure how she felt about having to liaise with Myra.

  Lawrence examined her face. ‘You clearly enjoy your job.’

  ‘I love it.’

  ‘I keep telling Tatjana she ought to return to her business. She just has this thing about wanting to be there every second for the boys.’

  ‘I thought she was returning? That’s what she told me.’

  Lawrence looked surprised. ‘Really?’

  ‘Maybe I misheard.’

  He looked down the table at his wife, a worried expression on his face. ‘You know, I thought I’d see more of you after you came over for lunch the other week. I’m sure Tatjana mentioned something about going to the Neck of the Woods or getting takeaway in one night?’

  Emma laughed nervously. ‘Really? I can’t remember.’

  He paused for a moment. ‘I know Tatjana can be . . . challenging sometimes,’ he said quietly.

  Emma looked at him in surprise. ‘Really? How do you mean?’

  ‘She’s a bit fragile, you know. Beneath that confident exterior, she’s quite an insecure soul.’

  Emma looked at Tatjana, who was now curling her finger around Isla’s hair and showing her how to pin it behind her ear.

  ‘She was worried about moving here,’ Lawrence continued. ‘You know, being the only black person in a village like Forest Grove. So it was a relief when she met you guys.’

  Emma felt bad for suspecting Tatjana of spreading rumours then. What reason would she have? Maybe Tatjana had just mentioned something in passing to Myra and it had spiralled out of all proportion.

  ‘Mum,’ Isla shouted down the table, excited, ‘Tat just said I can go to the London Fashion Show next year!’

  ‘I was just telling Isla about how fab London Fashion Week is,’ Tatjana said. ‘I’m planning on taking the boys next year, and it’ll be easy to get an extra ticket – my friend Flavia helps with the show’s PR.’

  ‘Ah yes, Flavia,’ Lawrence said to Emma with an eye roll. ‘Honestly, you should meet this guy. Last time I saw him, I swear he was wearing a peacock for a hat.’

  Everyone laughed.

  ‘You love him really,’ Tatjana said.

  ‘Can I go, Mum, please?’ Isla begged.

  ‘We wouldn’t let you go without one of us, darling,’ Emma said firmly.

  ‘Dad?’ Isla asked, turning to her father.

  Dele shook his head. ‘No, maybe when you’re older though.’

  Isla crossed her arms. ‘That is so unfair, you’re both so basic.’

  All the adults exchanged confused looks.

  ‘What do you mean, basic?’ Dele asked.

  ‘It’s slang for boring,’ Myra said, her eyes on Emma. Emma wasn’t misreading the look in them; they were full of spite.

  ‘Boring?’ Emma said, putting her hand to her chest in mock shock. ‘How could you call me boring? I have a purple phone case, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Stop being so sarcy-astic,’ Isla huffed.

  That was it, the whole table fell about laughing; even Lucy couldn’t help it. But Myra stayed stoic.

  ‘Well, the ticket’s hers if you change your mind!’ Tatjana said. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if a modelling scout made a beeline for her while she’s there, she’s such a beauty!’

  Emma couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable. She really did fawn over Isla, but then maybe it was like Lawrence and Dele had said: it was refreshing for Tatjana to see Isla so happy in a small, mainly white village like Forest Grove.

  ‘She’s not beautiful when she’s dribbling in her sleep,’ Dele said jovially.

  ‘Dad!’ Isla said, cheeks flushing.

  ‘I’ve been wondering since I met you actually, Dele,’ Tatjana said. ‘Are you of Nigerian heritage?’

  ‘Yes, spot on,’ Dele said. ‘And yours is . . . Jamaican?’

  Tatjana shook her head. ‘Nice try. No, Bahamas.’

  ‘Isla is of Bahaman heritage!’ Dele said.

  Tatjana frowned. ‘But if you’re of Nigerian heritage . . .’

  ‘Isla’s adopted,’ Emma explained.

  Lucy and Fraser exchanged a look. She presumed they might know, but then Isla didn’t really mention it.

  ‘Well, that makes you extra special,’ Lawrence said to Isla.

  They all continued eating, chatting about work, the weather, how drunk one of the dads had got at the disco the night before.

  ‘So, did you get the list of items the kids need to take on the Warwick Castle trip?’ Fraser asked Emma as their pudding was brought over.

  ‘I didn’t get a list,’ Emma said. ‘Anyway, isn’t the payment deadline next week?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘No, it was last week.’

  ‘But it was extended, right?’ Emma asked. ‘That’s what it said in the email.’

  Lucy’s brow wrinkled. ‘What email?’

  Emma dug around in her bag for her phone. ‘There was an email that went out from the school saying the deadline was extended.’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘I didn’t get an email. All the places have been allocated. We got the letters yesterday to confirm. Any children’s parents who missed the deadline don’t have a space,’ she added primly. ‘I’m afraid if you haven’t paid, Isla isn’t going.’

  ‘What?’ Isla said overhearing the conversation. ‘But I’ll be the only one in class not going!’

  ‘Emma?’ Dele asked.

  Emma’s heart started pounding in her ears. ‘If you just give me a second.’ She found her phone and went into her work email, scrolling through it with a trembling finger. ‘Bugger,’ she said, unable to find the email. ‘I must’ve deleted it after I added the new payment deadline to my Google calendar.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t just miss the deadline?’ Myra asked.

  ‘I bloody didn’t!’

  The table went quiet and Emma’s cheeks flushed.

  ‘This is the worst day of my life,’ Isla said, slumping back down in her chair as Tatjana pouted and rubbed her back. ‘You always forget stuff, Mum. It’s so unfair!’

  ‘I do not!’ Emma said, feeling tears prick at her eyes. As she said that, she was sure she saw Tatjana’s lips quirk into a little smile.

  ‘Isla, don’t be rude,’ Dele said. ‘I’m sure we’ll get this all cleared up.’

  Emma bit at her nails. She did not imagine that email!

  She couldn’t relax for the rest of the evening. All she could think about was the Warwick
Castle trip. She was so sure she’d got an email!

  When they were back home, Emma composed an email to the IT person at work, Suzie. She was an absolute whizz-kid when it came to things like that; maybe she could retrieve the email? She wouldn’t mind doing Emma a favour – she was desperate to get a pay rise and knew how well Emma got on with their manager, Saul. Emma clicked send, then buried her phone back in her pocket.

  When she went to the school’s reception on Monday and explained the issue, she was told by the head teacher Mrs Gould that there was no way Isla could go on the trip now. ‘You must have misread one of our emails,’ Mrs Gould said, clearly sceptical because Emma couldn’t even show her what she’d received.

  When Emma got into work, she opened her messages to see that Suzie had managed to retrieve the deleted email.

  ‘Yes!’ she said as she opened it.

  It looked just like the usual school email, with the logo and everything. But when she clicked on the ‘from’ field, she had to double take. While the name was what she was used to – simply ‘Forest Grove Primary’ – the actual email address it was cloaking was a strange one she didn’t recognise: info@67584912.co.

  She looked at past emails from the school and clicked the ‘from’ fields. They were all the same, not this weird address.

  Her breath quickened. Did this mean the email was faked?

  She quickly wrote back to Suzie, who wasn’t in yet, asking if the email could be faked and if so, whether she could find out who sent it.

  Suzie replied quickly:

  Yep, looks like someone has faked this email to you, sorry hon. As for tracing: that’s the interesting thing about this (and what made me think it’s faked). Usually it’s pretty easy to trace an email back to its source IP. But whoever sent this has used some pretty sophisticated kit to stop me doing that. They mean business! You want me to try to track it? On a train at the mo but can look when I’m at my desk in 20 mins?

  Emma wrote back an instant ‘yes’.

  After a meeting that afternoon, Suzie was waiting for her at her desk.

  ‘You traced it?’ Emma asked her.

  ‘Yep.’ Suzie handed over a printout. It all just looked like nonsense to Emma. ‘See this?’ Suzie said, pointing at an address she’d highlighted. ‘That’s the person’s host address. It’s located in the Bahamas.’

  Emma’s heartbeat trebled. Tatjana came from the Bahamas!

  Surely she couldn’t be behind this?

  ‘Can you track down exactly who sent it?’ Emma asked.

  Suzie shook her head. ‘Sorry, babe, no. But you can contact the host to try to get them to hand over details. It’s unlikely though.’

  ‘You really are a genius.’

  Suzie smiled. ‘It’s a pleasure. I live for this kind of stuff.’

  Emma looked at the time. Nearly two thirty. If she left now, she might be able to have a quick word with the head teacher and show her the email before picking Isla up.

  She turned off her computer and grabbed her bag. ‘I’m going to leave early,’ she called out to everyone. ‘Have a bit of a headache.’

  She darted out of her offices and drove to the school. When she got there, she marched into the main reception area, instantly catching sight of the head teacher at a copier machine.

  ‘Mrs Gould!’ she called. ‘May I talk to you about something?’

  She looked up. ‘Of course, Mrs Okoro.’ Mrs Gould led Emma into her small office, which had a view of the forest beyond.

  ‘Remember I told you I got an email saying payment for the Warwick Castle trip was delayed?’ Emma said.

  ‘Yes.’

  Emma got her work iPad out and opened the message Suzie had forwarded. ‘My IT person managed to track it down. Looks like a normal email from the school, right?’

  The head teacher leaned forward to look. ‘It does,’ she admitted. ‘But we certainly didn’t send this, there was no extension.’

  Emma zoomed in on the ‘from’ field, flicking on it. ‘Recognise this domain?’

  The head teacher blinked as she looked at it. ‘That’s strange. The email address is wrong.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Emma said.

  ‘It’s not just that,’ the head teacher added, zooming in even more. ‘That’s our old logo. All emails sent out this term would have the new logo.’

  ‘Then it is a fake?’ Emma said, feeling vindicated.

  ‘Let’s not be hasty, we’d have to look into it,’ the head teacher said carefully. ‘Is there any reason you think someone might fake something like this, Mrs Okoro?’

  Emma thought about it. Was there a reason? She couldn’t help but think of Tatjana, especially with the Bahamas link. But that really could just be a coincidence. Maybe it was Myra – she worked for the Belafontes, after all, and could be using their host in the Bahamas.

  But why? What would her motivation be?

  Emma shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Rest assured, Mrs Okoro, we will do all we can to find out who faked this email. We take racism very seriously here.’

  ‘Racism?’ Emma said. ‘I didn’t say anything about racism.’

  ‘No, no, of course, it’s just one of the possibilities,’ the head teacher replied. ‘Could you forward the email to me, Mrs Okoro?’

  ‘Sure,’ Emma said, forwarding the message as she spoke, her mind still on the idea that this might be something to do with racism. ‘I hope Isla is allowed on the trip now in light of this? I can pay today.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ The head teacher stood up and surprised Emma by putting her hand on her arm. ‘I appreciate you letting me know about this. I’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘I really appreciate that, thanks.’

  That night, Emma took the chance to mention it all to Dele, not just the faked email but what she’d overheard Myra and Lucy saying at the disco.

  ‘The weird thing is,’ she said carefully, ‘Suzie traced the host back to the Bahamas. Guess who else comes from the Bahamas?’

  ‘You’re saying Tatjana is behind all this?’

  ‘Well, she could be the source of the rumours, we did talk about all that stuff the other week.’

  ‘Nope,’ Dele said, shaking his head. ‘Just doesn’t ring true to me.’

  ‘Then who the hell is behind all this? I did wonder about Myra with her having access to their server, if it is based in the Bahamas. What if she’s trying to get revenge for the parking incident?’

  ‘Come on, that’s ridiculous!’

  Emma nodded. It did seem far-fetched.

  Dele was quiet for a few moments, then sighed. ‘How many black kids are there in Forest Grove, Emma?’

  ‘I know what you’re saying. Mrs Gould seemed to think the same thing. But I don’t think it’s that. Sure, there are a lot of pale faces around the village, but we’ve never encountered any racism.’

  ‘Really?’ Dele asked. ‘What about the smashed window?’

  Emma frowned. He was right.

  ‘Look, I didn’t want to worry you about the window, but I did wonder if it was a racially motivated attack. You have to consider it as a possibility, Emma,’ Dele said, ‘especially with the Belafontes now moving in, and Myra’s kid is mixed race, too. It could really get some old racist dude’s back up, right? All these “foreigners” moving into his precious village,’ he said mockingly. He took Emma’s hand, looking into her eyes, his own brown eyes sympathetic. ‘You have to agree it’s more likely than it being Tatjana or even Myra? What motive would they have?’

  As he said that, she suddenly saw Jade Dixon’s face overlapping with Tatjana’s in her mind again.

  ‘Emma?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, frowning. ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘You look tired, babe,’ Dele said.

  ‘I am. All of this has been stressing me out.’

  ‘We’ll be able to relax a bit in Dartmouth this weekend.’

  They were visiting her mum and stepdad, which sounded relaxing, but
was usually anything but for Emma.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Dele said, stroking her arm. ‘We’ll figure this out together.’

  She smiled at him. ‘I hope so.’

  Emma was super organised for the rest of the week. She needed to be on the ball so that whoever was doing this to her wouldn’t have another chance to make her slip up. She set her alarm an hour earlier, ensuring she and Isla were ready well on time. They even had time to walk through the woods to school. She did bump into Tatjana on a few occasions but found herself trying to avoid her, which was easy enough because Emma spent most of her time in the playground chatting to Faye. They even met up for a quick coffee one lunchtime. It made Emma wonder if she had been more open to chatting to the other mums, she might have made more friends those first few weeks.

  Well, what did it matter? She had made a friend.

  By the time the weekend came around, Emma felt ready for the trip to Dartmouth. Their window still hadn’t been replaced and Emma was finding being in the house slightly claustrophobic. They arrived late in the night on Friday and were up early the next morning, crabbing from the embankment, Isla’s favourite thing to do on their visits there.

  Emma nursed a takeaway coffee from a bench, looking out at the River Dart as Isla caught crabs with her grandparents and Dele, Harriet watching from nearby.

  Emma caught her sister’s eye and smiled.

  She was tall compared to Emma, all her genes from their dad’s side. She was wearing her favourite thick teddy coat, the colour of copper leaves, with a bright-purple hairband in her long blonde hair. She was the kind of woman who drew glances from strangers as they passed, not because she was particularly beautiful – she wasn’t – but more because her inner vivaciousness shone through.

  Emma leaned her head back, enjoying the autumn sun on her skin. It really was so nice here. It was easy to forget that sometimes – thoughts of her hometown tangled with memories of darker times. She hoped her mum and Ray understood why she didn’t come back as much as she should. Being here now made her realise that despite all that had happened here, she ought to make the effort more. It was a child’s paradise with crabbing plus a castle and a mermaid statue. But it hurt too much being there, even now, on a beautiful day like this.