by Claire Davis
“Poor Stella! She’s really wound up.”
“If you ask me, that Josh is a chancer anyway. None of those letters sounded real,” Elsa whispered. “I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but it was obvious he was stringing her along.”
“No! I completely believed in him.” Pink stuffed in another pink wafer from the box of goodies the stalker had sent for the hostel. “He’s my dream man. If Josh is a fake, that’s it for me. I’m turning nun.” She wolfed two more.
“Poor love,” Oskar threw in sleepily. Gareth’s arm slid around his shoulders and squeezed. What he’d have liked to do was have a little snooze—perhaps in Gareth’s arms. Then wake up in a few hours to a steaming mug of coffee and treats, followed by a bubble bath…perhaps with Gareth.
“So, are you two, urgh—” Carol HS nodded from Oskar to Gareth “—you know. A thing? I’ve noticed you don’t call Gareth Bear anymore.”
“Are we a thing? Well, I think so. Are we?” Gareth said into Oskar’s hair. The others stared with mouths open.
It was funny. He’d spent years wanting people to admire him, was an expert at getting double-takes. It made him superior, and safe. The more they sneered, the better. But it hadn’t made him happy. He wriggled further into Gareth. Hours of snogging and rolling about had done nothing for his make-up. His hair had been pulled about, shoved back and shaken in the throes of ecstasy, or whatever it was. He saw the girls weren’t looking for his face art or hair layers, but at something else.
“Yeah, we’re a thing. Boyfriends. Dating. Going out together.” Lovers. The tingle started at his big toe and travelled throughout his body right to the tip of his nose.
“Wow,” Carol HS said.
“Yeah. Wow!” Gareth said, laughing. One hand stroked Oskar’s neck. Arousal shot up around his body again. Lost, he was lost.
“It was obvious you were going to end up in bed. Right from that first day. You were all over each other,” Moira said knowledgably. “The sexual tension was so high in the corridor it gave me a vaginal rash.”
“Me too,” said Carol.
Screams erupted. “Moira! Yuck!”
Oskar laughed helplessly. “I think you might have a gift for the future. First you knew about me and Gareth’s testosterone, next Josh. What else do you know, eh?”
Moira smiled. “You’re a dark horse. That’s going to be next.” She pointed at Gareth. “I foretell you are a prince.”
Oskar snorted. “Oh, he is. A dark horse stallion. I already know that.”
“Oh my god!” Pink stood up suddenly and shut the door. “I’ve just had a thought.” She put a hand over her mouth. “About Stella.”
“Yeah,” Gareth said. “Me too. I had that same thought weeks ago.”
“But that’s so sad. Why would she do that?” Pink squeezed in next to Gareth. They stared at each other looking miserable.
Oskar nudged Gareth. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Isn’t it obvious? She wrote those letters herself. That’s how she knows the last one isn’t from Josh,” Gareth said slowly. “He probably doesn’t exist. The photos of him—they’re not even of the same guy. I think she gets them off Pinterest.”
Pink nodded. “Yeah.”
“No fucking way? She made it all up?” Oskar said gleefully. “That’s mental!” He began laughing. “Oh Stella, I love you. I say your name as my head hits the pillow because I am on fire with your beauty!” He wiped away tears from the corners of his eyes. “I can’t wait to see her.” It all made sense. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it! I mean, what boy would want her?”
“Don’t, Oskar,” Gareth said quietly. “It’s not really funny.”
“Of course it is! She gloated over the rest of us with those fucking letters. Now we can get our own back. That bitch.”
“She’s not, though. Not really. She’s quite nice if you get her on her own.” Pink sniffed.
Oskar flopped back against the sofa and sighed loudly.
“What? You mean she made it all up? But that’s so disrespectful of us. I’m with Oskar,” Moira crossed her arms. “Never trust a liar.”
“Exactly,” Oskar said. He wriggled away. “She was horrible to me.”
“Yeah, but you were horrible to her too.” Gareth slid the arm right back. He tugged Oskar’s hair. “She was jealous of you. ’Cause you have it all.”
Oskar shook his head silently, wondering what they would say if they knew about Mum, and Morris. He gathered himself for an onslaught.
“Or you look like you do.” Gareth kissed his hair. “You’re funny, and popular, and everyone wants to be around you. She just wanted some of that. Who wouldn’t? I used to be on cloud nine if you so much as looked my way.”
“Me too,” Carol HS muttered. “I still am.”
Moira uncrossed her arms and began picking at a spot on her forehead. “Oh. I didn’t think of it that way. She’s not an easy person to like.”
“Yeah, but—” Oskar began.
“Haven’t you ever told a little lie or two? To make yourself more interesting? To get out of trouble?” Gareth squeezed. “Hmm? Made up a few stories and then it all gets out of hand?”
Oskar froze in horror. He stole a quick look sideways. Gareth raised his eyebrows and winked.
“Poor Stella. What should we do?” Pink said mournfully. “Oskar?”
They were all staring like he had all the answers to the world’s problems. He stood with a flourish and stalked to the window, making sure to sway his hips. He waved his arms enigmatically. Trying to build up to a small hissy fit diverted the growing dread that Gareth knew about his lies.
“Oh, all right,” he finally said sulkily. “We’ll pretend we don’t know Josh is a phantom.” Fuck sake.
Gareth beamed. “You’re a beautiful person.”
Oskar’s stomach flipped, but it didn’t stop him from pouting and shaking his hair. He was not a beautiful person! He was bitter and cynical and always would be. He wouldn’t look, because of too much pride. Gareth blew a kiss.
“And try to include her more. So she doesn’t have to make stuff up, maybe?”
Oskar hated him, for being so sexy and reasonable. So much he walked back to the sofa and sat on his lap.
“Is it like taming a dragon?” Pink asked.
“Yeah,” Oskar said with feeling.
“I was asking Gareth.” She laughed.
****
He plonked onto the seat heavily and adjusted the headphones. The head chaos seemed calmer than it had for ages.
“Must be Gareth,” he said. “It’s all that kindness affected me.”
No tears were left, not anymore. As he started talking, still the wet appeared from somewhere.
“Dad. I miss you. I miss you so much it’s worse than toothache, and you know how much I hate that. I keep…fucking up because I don’t have you to talk to anymore. I make all the wrong decisions, and tell lies, and don’t even get me on to Mum.
“I want you to know I didn’t take her side over yours. I just wasn’t thinking straight, that’s all. You were dying in hospital and that was ripping me up inside. Then suddenly police are at the door telling us you’ve grassed up Mum and Aunty Kathy.”
The tears stopped but what was left seemed worse. “I pretended to take her side, is the truth. Because it meant I wouldn’t have to visit you again and see you in pain.”
He stopped suddenly, hands on his mouth. There had been tubes, and machines, and nurses, but nothing had stopped the yellowing of his skin or the drawn-out face. “I didn’t care about anything except you. I’m sorry. I was weak and scared.” Morris had tried and failed to stop the groaning and winces from the pain. It had made Oskar shake and shake.
“Oh my god. You knew. That’s why you did it! You knew I couldn’t take seeing you that way so you thought of the only thing that would keep me away, and get me away from the drugs. That’s why you grassed them up—you stupid bastard. You did it for me.”
Chapter
16: I Jam Therefore I Am
Gareth
Dear Dad,
This is my absolutely last letter. It’s only a few days now until me and John go separate ways. Every night, I have a panic in bed, worrying about what if I get to college and they have nowhere for me to live, that kind of stuff. What if all the other students hate me? What if my loan doesn’t come through? What if I can’t keep up with the work?
I have enough money from the fruit picking to last a few weeks, but once that’s gone, there’s nothing. Sometimes I convince myself to ring Mom. I don’t even have her number (or a phone) but maybe I could find it on social media? And leave her a message, Hi, this is your son Gareth. Hah. I wonder what all her fans would say. I told John that. He says no, I have made my decision and I must stick to it, otherwise it’s weakness. But you know what? I caught him sending an email on his phone to someone and answering calls. I didn’t say anything, though.
I’m sick of being dirty. Did I tell you we ran away from the last place because some guy was hanging around again, and John thinks it’s his dad? To be honest, I’m sick of all that too. I mean, what’s so bad about his dad caring? I told him maybe he should try ringing and talking. He got so mad, which is funny really, as he is always telling me what to do with my life. I didn’t say anything back, but I cried a bit and then he said sorry.
So now we’re sleeping rough under the trees like animals. He’s not really talking to me anymore. I am lonely, Dad. So lonely. My bones hurt with having no-one. I’m writing this while John’s asleep because he’ll be mad again if he finds out.
Gareth
****
Oskar
Stella-Artois stood in front of the oven. Alcohol stench filled the room. “Excuse me, please,” Oskar said brightly. “I need access to the oven.” She didn’t move. “It’s behind you.”
“It was you.”
“You shit-faced, honey?”
“You!”
“I’m the sexiest? Yes, dear, I expect so.” He laughed gaily, eyes firing ice beams straight into her bitchy heart. He slid around the edges of the walls and got to the oven, holding the saucepan of baked beans with mini sausages. “Got nothing to do except stand there?”
“You wrote that letter. I know it was you.”
“How? You got evidence? That’s a spiteful allegation.” He began whistling cheerfully. “Have you cleaned your teeth today, love? Nasty smell of garlic in here.”
“You’re a horrible little fucker, but I’ve got your card.”
“Oh, yeah? Christmas or Valentine?” he spat. She stepped closer, right into the personal space no-one ever crossed except Gareth. He held a hand out flat. “Do you mind? I know I’m irresistible, but you’re really not my type. I prefer them to be male, alive, and not stinking of garlic.” He winked, but his heart beat faster than a train on a track. He’d seen too many drunks get violent. Mum was worse after a night down the pub.
“People like you shouldn’t be allowed in college. I’m reporting you for theft,” she said flatly.
“Oh, fuck off, will you? I’m trying to cook my dinner. Go to sleep and sober up.”
“But theft is nothing new for your family, is it?” she said loudly.
A weight hit Oskar’s insides, but he carried on calmly stirring his beans. There was no way she could know about Mum. Not unless she’d browsed the internet. Coldness seeped through his bones. The other kids at school had found out about Morris—first from the grapevine, then local newspaper and finally it was everywhere. That was the last time Oskar looked at social media.
Carol HS stuck her head in. “What’s going on?”
“Fucked if I know. Stella was just going.” Oskar flipped the sausages. “She’s had a little too much cheap cider.”
“Do you think it’s acceptable, Carol? We have to share a place with someone whose family are crooks? Oskar’s mother is in prison for stealing, drugs, and benefit fraud. His father was also a well-known crook. Whole family are insects. Simon Le Bon!” She laughed hysterically. “Now maybe you’ll see who’s been taking my letters. He’s a dirty little liar from some druggy estate. He’s scum. I read all about it in a newspaper article I found online. Can’t keep anything hidden these days!” She paused to draw breath. “Everything he’s told us is a lie. I’m going to tell college and then Gareth, and I won’t stop until this—lowlife—gets out of my life. Fuck off back to scum land where you belong.”
For a few seconds, everything went deadly quiet. Oskar turned off the oven. He slowly and precisely tipped the beans all over Stella’s stupid fucking head. “Oops,” he said.
“You fucking bastard! You’re crazy. Get off me!” Shouting and pushes and then Oskar was on the floor, crumpled up with a ringing in his head and weirdness in his cheek. He closed his eyes for a while until it went quiet. Someone was shaking his arm.
“Oskar? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah.” He was on the floor, and it was a mess of beans and sausages. “That was my dinner,” he said stupidly. “She hit me with a saucepan.”
“I know, love. Let’s get you up. I was about to call an ambulance.” Pink was crying.
“But we live in a hospital. I can just walk.” The ringing went on. “I feel a bit weird.” Oddly, he was shaking and cold like after a flashback. “Where’s Gareth?”
“Not back from college yet. Can you stand?” Pink helped but he could only move very slowly. “She’s crazy. What did you wind her up for?”
“Because I can’t help it,” he grumbled. They began walking to the emergency department slowly, Pink almost carrying him. “It’s something inside me. When people look at me like I’m dog shit I have to fight back.” He shrugged. Someone as nice as Pink would never understand the politics of Brinsted Gardens. “She banged my head really hard. She’s shit-faced. Where’s Gareth?” He started to cry a little.
“I know. Carol said. Then she ran off screaming. Carol’s gone after her. Almost there. It’s just in that door.”
He gave his details to the lady on reception, then threw up and went to sleep with the smell of hospital in his nose. “Is there a radio?” he asked just before everything went black. “Gareth?”
Chapter 17: Bodacious
Gareth
Dear Dad,
I’m at the train station waiting for the minibus to take me to college. There was a shower inside, thank god. I was so worried about turning up to the halls of residence smelling of cow dung. I’m scared, Dad. I locked myself in the toilets and cried all the way here. Is this what I should be doing? I don’t know anything. I said goodbye to John this morning. I would say it was the worst goodbye of my life but we both know it wouldn’t be true. I think maybe he was an asshole, but it was better than being on my own. After he left, I noticed most of my money is gone. He must have stolen it. At least I still have my lucky compass.
This is going to be a good day, as soon as I can stop the tears. It’s the first day of the rest of my life. This is my last letter. I just wanted to say goodbye, and to let you know that your son made it to college.
I still love you. I will always love you. It’s the zoology department.
Gareth
P.S. At least I have my compass. I’m going to hold it all day long and hope it brings me luck.
****
Oskar
“Come back if your vision goes blurry, or you feel sick. OK? Your scan is fine. I think it was shock more than the saucepan.” The doctor smiled. “Your hostel is only twenty yards from here.”
“Yeah,” he said uncertainly. “Are you sure there’s no brain damage? Because I feel like there is. Maybe I need to stay in?”
“No brain damage. And you students need to be more careful! Throwing saucepans about is bound to end in tears.”
“Come on, Oskar.” Pink linked arms. “Gareth might be back now.”
“I didn’t even get any flowers and get-well cards,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t have minded a few days in hospital.” Surrounded by adoring visitors. “What do
we do about Stella?”
“Hopefully, she’s calmed down by now. She needs help.”
“Fucking maniac.” He frantically tried to remember who might’ve heard Stella shouting about Mum and Morris. He remembered newspaper articles about mothers making their children sell drugs, presumably now easy to find on the internet. “She’s been sneaking about, trying to get me in trouble since I got here.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Fine,” he admitted grudgingly. “I actually think it was her breath made me pass out.”
They got back to the hostel. Just inside the entrance, Carol HS and Moira were chattering loudly. They both stopped when they saw him. “Oskar? But what are you doing here?”
“I’m OK. Going to bed,” he said, not looking at Carol.
“But? No?” Moira shook her head. “Stella said you were at the stalker’s house? That you were in trouble?”
Oskar tried and failed to clear his head. “What are you talking about? I just came from emergency. She banged me with a saucepan.”
“Oh my god. Stella’s really lost it. After you left the hostel, she came running in looking for Gareth, grabbed him and said he had to go with her to the stalker’s house because he had you hostage. We were just about to ring the police.”
“How long ago?” he shouted. “She’s taken Gareth?”
“Five minutes, max. They literally just left. Gareth is going frantic with worry, poor guy. You left your phone here so he couldn’t reach you.”
“Ring the police! She’s fucking mad.” He wrote the address of the stalker on an old envelope. “If she hurts him, I’ll kill her. Come on, Pink!”
He ran off towards the house, head pounding. “What the fuck?” he shouted. They ran past cars and buses, down two roads and across the park. In his mind, Oskar saw Mafia and guns, somehow tied up with Gareth and Stella. He had no doubt she was taking Gareth straight into danger to get her revenge.
