Firewallers

by Simon Packham

  ‘She wanted to protect us. That reporter was only the beginning. The media loves a banking scandal, you said so yourself.’

  ‘Yes, but what do they love even more?’ said Millie.

  The pod stopped spinning. ‘What are you . . .?’

  Actress tears, the size of pearls, were hurtling down her cheeks. ‘They were all over his computer, Jess; thousands of . . . vile photographs. Kids, younger than you. He might be a great analyst, but he’s a terrible human being.’

  Maybe I’d heard wrong. Yeah, that’s right, of course I had. ‘Are you saying Dad’s a . . . paedophile?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. And he’s not just been suspended, either; he’s on bail until the trial. The sick bastard’s only staying at Grandma’s because he’s not allowed anywhere near us.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Come on, Jess, don’t be so dense. Why would I make it up?’

  ‘Because you’re a bloody liar,’ I screamed, hurling myself at Millie and grabbing her arms where I knew it would hurt. ‘Dad would never ever do a thing like that.’

  She didn’t even try to fight back, just whimpered like a coward and kept bleating ‘Sorry’.

  And I probably would have done some serious damage if Mum’s sleep-starved voice hadn’t trespassed into my nightmare. ‘What on earth is going on in here? It’s bad enough trying to sleep with that bunch of overgrown schoolboys outside.’

  ‘You’d better ask her,’ I said. ‘I knew she had problems, but I didn’t think she was a complete fantasist.’

  Mum looked about a thousand years old. And it wasn’t just for the lack of make-up. ‘What are you talking about, Jess?’

  ‘She’s been telling disgusting lies about Dad.’

  ‘She knows,’ said Millie. ‘ I told her. I’m sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to. It just came out.’

  And suddenly Mum was crying too. She sleepwalked towards Millie, wrapping her arms around her in a soggy embrace. ‘It’s OK, it’s OK. It’s not your fault, love. I should never have asked you to keep quiet about it.’

  I couldn’t believe she wasn’t angry. ‘You mean it’s actually true? Someone’s been saying that Dad’s a pervert?’

  Mum nodded. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ I said, hoping against hope that I’d got it all wrong. ‘Are you telling me you actually believe them?’

  ‘I didn’t want to,’ said Mum, ‘but the police practically dismantled the whole office when they came for his computer. And then they turned up at the house. They even took our wedding video.’

  And now I was crying too. ‘No, no, Dad’s not like that, you know he isn’t.’

  The last thing I wanted was Mum’s pity. ‘It’s not that simple, darling. Like Sue says, sometimes it’s the people you least expect.’

  ‘Yeah, well, she would say that, wouldn’t she? The silly cow’s had so many failed relationships it’s no wonder she hates men.’

  Millie was snivelling again. ‘I’m so sorry, Jess. I really wanted to tell you.’

  I’d had more than enough of their crocodile tears. ‘You two are unbelievable.’

  ‘Let’s just sit down and talk about this,’ said Mum. ‘Come on, love, I —’

  ‘Don’t touch me. You make me sick, both of you. We were all he had. And you just left him to rot.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ said Millie. ‘We only wanted to —’

  ‘Sod off,’ I said, unable to stomach another syllable of their sanctimonious whining. ‘You know what your trouble is? You don’t love him like I do.’

  Mum’s face was a watery mask of misery. ‘Jess, please. Come back. You don’t know . . .’

  I shot down the tunnel, fumbled my way through the entry hatch and ran sobbing into the starry night.

  Secrets and Lies

  Who knows where the next three days went? Sleepless and practically speechless, I wandered the island in a tear-filled trance.

  Mum and Millie were forever trying to ambush me. I suppose I should have been grateful that they’d reverted to their old selves for a bit. Worrying about me seemed to have distracted them from their misery. Like slobbering journalists, they popped up everywhere, never fooling me for a minute with their two-faced smiles and pathetic invitations to talk. Like that was ever going to happen. What did they expect after filling my head with filthy lies?

  Derek commented several times on my pale complexion and lack of ‘oomph’, but at least Campbell and the others didn’t hassle me. They seemed content to let me dawdle behind them, and I was grateful they never once asked why I’d stopped coming to the Symposium or why I chose to spend my afternoons alone.

  The truth is I felt sick. So sick that all I could keep down were a few sour apples from the orchard. My dad was the most honest man in the universe – and probably the kindest too. How could anyone think he was some kind of . . .? I couldn’t even say it.

  But that wasn’t the worst thing; the worst thing was the tiny voice in the back of my head that whispered it might be true.

  There was no way of blotting it out completely, but it seemed to help if I stayed on the move. That’s why I went walkabout, circling the island from noon till night in a desperate attempt to keep the voice silent. And sometimes on my travels I’d see Erika and the Junior Laggards, building sandcastles or flying paper kites. How I envied them their innocence. How I wished I could get mine back.

  But if the days were long, the nights were longer. It was a blessing I could barely sleep, because in the rare moments when I just couldn’t stop myself, the dreams that came were worse than any I’d ever known. Most of them started with that photograph, the self-portrait I’d sent to Dan Lulham. Except in my dreams, it wasn’t the whole of St Thomas’s Community College that was perving over it – it was my dad.

  By the third night, I couldn’t stand it any longer. Waking suddenly in a reservoir of my own sweat, I realised that the time had come. I had to talk to someone. But not just anybody; there was one person in the world who fitted the bill.

  And I had a pretty good idea where to find him.

  Winston grunted appreciatively, pressing his little pink face with the cute eye-markings against the wooden bars while Campbell scratched his back. It was the first time I ever felt jealous of a pig.

  ‘Hi, Cam.’

  I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to cry for the next fifty years, but the look of concern on Campbell’s face was enough to set me off again.

  ‘Jess, I was so worried about you. Are you OK?’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I sniffed.

  ‘Neither could this poor guy. And I’m not surprised with all that noise.’

  The men’s voices were getting closer. Somewhere on the edge of the new forest, Earl was barking out orders. ‘How dare you disobey me? You will do as I say!’

  ‘Mind you, poor Winston wouldn’t sleep a wink if he knew what my dad wanted to do to him.’

  All I wanted was to throw myself into Campbell’s arms. ‘Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so . . . It’s just that . . . well, I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

  He seemed to read my mind perfectly. ‘You talked to your sister, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘She said that. . . She said that. . .’

  He took my hand, stroking it softly, like he was trying to revive a sleeping princess. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  The men were gathering outside the Symposium, their glowing torches filling the air with the scent of bonfire night.

  ‘What are they doing?’ said Campbell. ‘They’re supposed to be practising their survival skills.’

  An argument was in progress. One voice cut above all the rest. ‘Call yourselves men?’ bellowed Earl. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word. Looks like I’ll have to show you myself.’

  There was a murmur of protest before a solitary flame started crossing the field
towards us.

  ‘We can’t talk here,’ said Campbell. ‘Come on, Jess. I know where we’ll be safe.’

  A cloudy curtain had descended on the stars, leaving the blackhouse in darkness. We stood face to face, like a couple in an Australian soap reciting their wedding vows. Lucky for me that I couldn’t look into Campbell’s eyes; it was hard enough telling him, let alone having to deal with his sympathy.

  ‘But you know the worst part, don’t you, Cam? It’s not when some stranger says your dad’s a pervert; it’s when the people who are supposed to love him start saying it too. I thought Mum was stronger than that. I mean, according to her, running away was our only option. Can you believe it?’

  Campbell’s breathing quickened a little. ‘No, of course not, but —’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Well, it would kind of explain what your sister was doing. And I can see why your mum might have brought you here. That . . . sort of thing does tend to make the headlines.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s all lies,’ I said. ‘Dad would never do something like that. How could they even think it?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Well what?’

  Campbell’s breathing quickened a touch more. ‘Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.’

  ‘Not you as well.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean . . . I’m just saying that —’

  ‘Forget it; I should have known you wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘But I do,’ said Campbell.

  I stumbled past him, groping desperately for the door. ‘Well, you obviously don’t.’

  ‘Jess, wait. I need to tell you something.’

  The crack in his voice made me hesitate. ‘What is it?’

  It was like one of those phone conversations where the other person doesn’t talk for a long time and you think the line’s gone dead. There was only a metre or so between us, but he sounded more distant than the stars. ‘I thought I knew my dad too. Before we came here, he made a solemn promise that he’d never go back to his old ways. I believed him too. And then I found out he’d been lying to me.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘There’s this cave in the cliffs,’ said Campbell. ‘Right above Death Rock.’

  It sounded like the kind of story Harry M would invent for Derek. ‘What’s that got to do with your dad?’

  ‘Someone told me he was hiding a smartphone up there.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Campbell. Earl’s pretty good for his age, but he’s hardly going to climb a bare rock face for the sake of a mobile phone.’

  ‘There’s a path that leads down to it from the clifftops. I didn’t want to believe it, but one night I followed him. He was in there for over an hour.’

  ‘How do you know he wasn’t meditating? That’s what gurus do, isn’t it?’

  ‘I know exactly what he was doing,’ said Campbell bitterly. ‘He was playing online poker again. All that crap about technology and he was the one who couldn’t live without it.’

  ‘Why would he keep it in a cave? Why couldn’t he just hide it in his sock drawer?’

  ‘Too risky,’ said Campbell. ‘How do you think that lot would feel if they found out his “gift for prophecy” came courtesy of the online weather forecast? And anyway, Kevin said it was the only place on the island you could get a decent signal.’

  ‘What’s Kevin got to do with it?’

  Campbell’s voice receded even further. ‘He was the one who told me about it. He said he wouldn’t let on about Dad’s gambling if I didn’t tell anyone about him.’

  ‘Tell them what?’

  ‘That he was using Dad’s phone to play WoW. Kev missed the internet more than any of us. You should have seen how happy he was when he made contact with his guild.’ I couldn’t see Campbell’s face, but I knew for a fact he was tearing up. ‘I just wish I’d said something. If I’d told one of the Dawdlers, Kevin would still be alive today.’

  ‘I thought it was an accident.’

  ‘It was,’ said Campbell, ‘but it didn’t happen the way everyone thought. Kev must have heard Dad coming and panicked. He couldn’t go back up the path, so he tried to go down instead. Well, you’ve seen how high it is. Poor Kev, he must have been . . .’

  ‘Cam, please . . . Please don’t cry. I know this is —’

  ‘Dad even lied about that,’ said Campbell. ‘He told everyone Kev was recreating that ridiculous Crofter ritual.’

  It was the most pitiful sound I’d ever heard; like the soundtrack to my nightmares – unworldly and not quite human. But whatever was making it, the heartbreaking squeal of terror that rose up from the valley seemed to sum up the situation perfectly.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I said. ‘What was that?’

  He didn’t answer my question, but his voice was shrouded in pain. ‘You see what I’m saying, Jess? Just because you love someone, doesn’t mean they’ll never let you down. Sometimes it’s better to face up to —’

  It was the only way to stop him.

  Campbell didn’t seem to object. I might have grabbed him first, but he was pretty quick to grab me back, whispering my name as we came together in the blackness.

  And soon we were really kissing; angry, passionate kisses with perhaps a dash of desperation. It didn’t stop me thinking how rubbish my life was, but for five minutes at least it deadened the pain.

  1984

  Mum and Millie were lying in wait when I got back. Cosied up on the beanbags, it reminded me of the old days and their irritating fondness for girlie chats.

  ‘Jess, hang on a minute,’ said Mum. ‘I know you’re upset, but this can’t go on forever. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘What is there to talk about?’ I said, half hoping she could persuade me to stay.

  Mum’s voice sounded bleaker than ever. ‘If we’re going to get through this, we have to stick together as a family.’

  ‘Well, it’s a pity you didn’t think of that when you abandoned Dad.’

  ‘Jess, wait . . . That didn’t come out right, you need to . . .’ I knew exactly what I needed. It popped into my head as I scrambled through the connecting tube towards the bedroom. My Where’s Wally? sports bag was in the bottom of the wardrobe. I wrestled open the dodgy zip and poured what was left of its contents onto my futon.

  And there it was. Hard to believe that the heart-shaped plastic frame had seemed so awesome on my ninth birthday. That photo of Dad in the paddling pool always made me smile. He smiled back at me, little knowing that in the next few seconds Millie was going to creep up behind him with a bucket of cold water. Already I felt calmer. Dad was brilliant at that. He was good at saying the right thing, but unlike Mum, he was even better at knowing when to keep quiet.

  ‘I miss him too, you know.’ Millie was standing over me, looking down at Dad with her sad brown eyes.

  ‘Does he look like a pervert?’ I snapped. ‘Well, does he?’

  She sat beside me so that our shoulders were touching. I didn’t pull away. ‘I’d give anything for it not to be true, Jess. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘You should have told me, Millie. You should have told me what they were saying about him.’

  ‘Of course I should. Keeping it from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I think that’s why I wanted to, you know . . . hurt myself.

  ‘You’ve got to promise me you’ll never do something like that again.’

  Millie nodded. Her tears were slowly licking away at my anger. ‘Please don’t hate me, Jess. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘And I could never hate you, Mills. But I still don’t believe any of that stuff about Dad.’

  ‘No one’s asking you to,’ said Millie. ‘I wish I could be so certain.’

  Dad beamed at both of us as we hugged and whispered private apologies that I’d prefer to stay that way.

  ‘What’s this?’ said Millie, sorting absently through the stuff I’d tipped onto the futon and picking out the plastic alien I thought I’
d lost in Year Five. ‘Didn’t you used to collect them?’

  ‘Horrible, isn’t it?’

  ‘These cartoons are pretty good though,’ said Millie. ‘Isn’t that the really boring guy who came round for dinner once?’

  ‘Brian Simkins,’ I said. ‘Hey look, he even gave me a card with his e-mail address.’

  ‘Aren’t you the lucky one?’ said Millie, smiling at the picture of the world’s dullest man riding the photocopier. ‘Did you do these?’

  ‘No, it was an IT guy from Dad’s bank. I found them in his wastepaper basket when I was on work experience.’

  ‘And what does this writing mean?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘No, wait,’ said Millie. ‘ Todtnau . . . I know that name. I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before.’

  ‘It’s no good asking me.’

  ‘ Anyway, what were you doing in the IT guy’s wastepaper bin?’

  ‘Long story.’

  ‘Typical Jess,’ she chuckled. ‘I’ve missed you, you know.’

  We weren’t telepathic exactly, but I’m pretty sure we were thinking about the same person.

  ‘And there’s someone who’s been missing you even more,’ said Millie. ‘Why don’t you go and talk to her?’

  ‘I’m not sure if I’m ready,’ I said, glancing down at Dad for guidance.

  ‘She’s hurting more than anyone,’ said Millie. ‘Go on, Jess. You know you want to.’

  She was right there. And I knew exactly what Dad would say. ‘OK . . . Fine.’

  ‘I’ll wait here for a bit,’ said Millie. ‘Give you two some time on your own.’

  Mum jumped up the moment she saw me. ‘Oh my, darling, are you OK? I was so, so worried about you.’ Even without the comforting aroma of fresh towels and mango and papaya body butter, it felt good to be back in her arms again.

  ‘I’m fine Mum . . . Honest.’

  We sank into the purple beanbags like depressed synchronised swimmers.

  ‘What have you been doing for the last three days? I know you haven’t been eating, Jess. Maybe I could get you some bread or something?’