Too Close to Home

by Susan Lewis

  Knowing he was lying, she tried to bring her focus back to the real issue they were facing. “You need to pay that money back to the writers,” she told him forcefully. “If you don’t, you could go to prison. Have you thought about that?”

  “Of course I’ve thought about it. And like it or not, the real truth is we both could, which is why it was the stupidest thing you ever did, going to a lawyer before you’d even spoken to me.”

  She took a moment to absorb the fact that he’d just admitted to committing a crime. “And what were you going to say to me that would make it all right?” she asked cuttingly. “What quick fix do you have up your sleeve for fraud or embezzlement or whatever the hell it is? Because from where I’m sitting there’s not a single sign of a mitigating circumstance anywhere close to a horizon. You’re talking about marketing packages that don’t exist.”

  “That are in the process of being set up.”

  “Which means they didn’t exist when you offered them. You’ve taken over twenty thousand pounds from our contributors, which you’ve just admitted to using for our personal expenses, so I want to know what you’re going to do about paying it back. What plans do you have for returning what is rightfully theirs before letters start arriving threatening to sue us? Maybe you’ve already had some. Have you?”

  “What I have,” he growled defensively, “is a stack of bills that need paying and nothing to pay them with, unless we carry on charging.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” she raged. “We can’t steal any more of their money.”

  “Then you’d better come up with another way of making it.”

  “And I need to do that on my own?”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

  “I’ll tell you what you’ve been doing,” she shot back. “You’ve been stealing, cheating, living a double life, screwing another woman while I had no idea.”

  “Because you didn’t want to know. You never do. You just carry on as though everything is perfect in the world, Jack will provide, Jack will make everything wonderful, even if it’s shit. Well, it’s time to wake up and find out what’s really going on around you, because this is your problem every bit as much as it’s mine, and the only way we’re going to solve it is for you to use what you’ve got left from your advance—or deliver another damned book.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened with shock. “Whatever I might have left,” she cried angrily, “belongs to me and the children. It is not going to be used to get you out of this mess. You put yourself there—now you can get yourself out.”

  “The company belongs to both of us,” he reminded her tightly.

  Her mouth fell open. She could hardly believe he’d just said that, much less what it actually meant. “Are you seriously telling me,” she demanded, “that you’re intending to let me, the mother of your children, an innocent party in all this, take the blame for something you know that you did?”

  “I did it so we could live,” he shouted. “If you want to see it any other way, that’s up to you.”

  She could hardly think straight anymore. In the end she forced herself to look him in the eye. What she saw was a man she couldn’t imagine loving, a man whose morals and integrity were as absent as any sign of regret or compassion. “What changed you?” she asked hoarsely. “What, who, turned you into this person?”

  He stared at her hard, but she could sense a powerful guilt cracking through his conscience.

  “You’ve got to sort this out,” she told him gravely. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know it, and we need to start by getting this lawyer off our backs.”

  She was shaking her head. “As far as I can see, I need him more now than ever. You stole that money, Jack, and you need to pay it back, or there are going to be some dire consequences.”

  This time he didn’t answer, merely stared down at the letter as if he was no longer quite so sure of himself.

  “Was she a part of it?” she asked. “Martha? Did she know what you were doing?”

  Though he flinched, he sounded credible as he said, “She had nothing to do with it.”

  “But she knows about it?”

  “She does now.”

  “And she still wants to be with you knowing that you’re a thief and a liar, a man who would put his wife, his whole family in jeopardy?”

  “No one’s been trying to put you in jeopardy, for God’s sake. My intention is to transfer the company to your name so—if we can get it going—you’ll reap all the profits. I swear I’ve never intended to take anything for myself.”

  “Because there’s nothing to take,” she pointed out shrilly. “You already have it, in your account.”

  “Which is all but empty. Once again, you’re the one who’s been spending it, Jenna.”

  “And you know damned well that I had no idea where it had come from. If you’d told me we were in such dire straits, I could have got a job.”

  “Where? You’re not qualified to do anything around here even if there were jobs to be had, and there aren’t. All you can do is write, and you’re not even doing that anymore.”

  Stung by the cruelty of that, she said, “I think you should go. I’ve got no more to say to you. The next time you hear from me will be through the lawyer.”

  Thumping a hand on the countertop, he said, “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not going to help you; he’ll only make things worse. We have to find a way of working this out together.”

  “No! You have to find a way, because you’re the one who did it. I need what little money I have to keep my family fed and clothed, and for all I know my publisher will be asking for it back any day now anyway. What’s going to happen then, Jack? How are you going to provide for your children if what little I have is taken away?”

  “If you’re really afraid of that,” he responded, “then you should transfer it to me. That way you won’t have it even if they do ask for it back.”

  —

  It had started again. Not as soon as Paige and Charlotte had returned to school; in fact, their first day back had almost allowed Paige to believe it might be over at last. She’d received no spiteful texts or emails, no snide remarks as she’d passed the Durmites in the corridors, nor had there been any cruel or bogus postings online. It was as though everything had gone back to normal. She’d even started to wonder if it would be OK to tell Miss Kendrick that she’d do Under Milk Wood after all, although she was still nervous about putting herself forward in case it goaded the Durmites into targeting her again.

  In the end they hadn’t needed any help from her: they returned to it anyway, starting in the corridor outside the history room that morning when someone had deliberately tripped her up and made sure she’d hit the floor hard. She’d been careful not to show how much it hurt or let them know how foolish they’d made her feel; she’d simply picked herself up, collected her books, and carried on along the corridor.

  Fortunately, she hadn’t been in the same lessons as them for the rest of the morning so nothing else had happened, and she felt reasonably safe here in the study center with Charlotte as they researched Alexander Fleming as part of their GCSE coursework. Everyone else was either in the canteen having lunch or milling about the grounds, but Mrs. Dyer had allowed them to come inside to carry on with their project.

  However, Paige was finding it hard to focus. Her mind kept wandering off to places where she didn’t really want it to go at all, but she couldn’t seem to make it stop. Mostly it was focusing on her dad. Twice now he’d said he’d pick Josh and the twins up from school and take them to athletics or Cubs or Rainbows or wherever they were supposed to be going, and both times he’d got Grandma to do it instead. He wasn’t anything like the dad she used to know. He’d become selfish and mean, putting himself first in a way he never had before. He wasn’t even interested in her tourist video anymore. She knew that because he hadn’t mentioned it once since he’d gone. But that was OK. The last thing she wanted was i
t being singled out as something special; she’d only be ridiculed and punished for it if it were.

  “Oh, wow! It’s from Liam,” Charlotte suddenly squealed as a text beeped into her phone. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she gasped after reading it. “Listen to this: ‘Hope you’re still free Saturday to come to game and party after at Oliver’s.’ ” She was grinning wickedly as she turned to Paige. “A party,” she repeated. “How amazing is that? I’ve got to get something to wear. Or I know—can I borrow that blue dress you got in New Look?”

  “I haven’t worn it yet,” Paige complained.

  “Oh right. Well, will you come into town with me to find something? We can go tomorrow, after school…Oh shit, I’m sorry,” she said with a gulp, abruptly realizing her mistake. “I wasn’t thinking. It’s at Cullum and Oliver’s, and you…I know, I’ll find out if I can invite a friend.”

  “No, no,” Paige protested. “Honestly, don’t. I’d only feel embarrassed after all the texts and Facebook stuff.”

  Charlotte appeared undecided.

  Forcing a smile, Paige said, “It’s brilliant that Liam wants to take you.”

  Charlotte’s eyes sparkled. “You know what it means, don’t you?” she whispered excitedly.

  Paige frowned.

  “It means we might do it.” She clapped her hands to her face. “Oh my God. Can you believe it? I might not be a virgin anymore after Saturday. That will be so amazing, just as long as no one starts calling me slag or slapper or anything like that.”

  “It’s what they call me and I haven’t even done anything,” Paige reminded her.

  “Yeah, but everyone knows it’s not true about you.”

  “Do they?”

  “Course they do. Hang on, I need to text him back.” She spoke the message aloud as she tapped it in. Def still free would love to come. Is party an all-nighter? “If it is,” she said to Paige, “can I say I’m staying at yours?”

  “Sure,” Paige agreed miserably.

  A minute later Charlotte received a reply. Yes, all-nighter, but don’t bother with pajamas.

  Charlotte was beaming as she turned to Paige. “Do you think I should get some condoms or leave it to him?” she whispered.

  “I think you should take some, just in case,” Paige replied. “You don’t want to end up pregnant or with some horrible STD.”

  Charlotte’s smile vanished. “He won’t have an STD,” she protested. “What made you even think it?”

  Paige shrugged awkwardly. “I was just saying, that’s all. I mean, you don’t know who he’s been with before, and Mrs. Mars keeps banging on about it in PHSE. ‘You’ve got more chance of catching an STD than becoming pregnant, and it could ruin your chances of ever getting pregnant.’ ”

  Having to concede that this was indeed what their Physical Health and Social Education teacher kept drumming into them, Charlotte said, “We’ll have to get some tomorrow while we’re in town, where no one knows us. If I went to the local pharmacy, it would get back to my mum quicker than you could get your knickers off.”

  Relieved that the tricky moment seemed to be over, Paige laughed and checked her own mobile as it vibrated. Heard what happened this morning. Hope you didn’t get hurt. Jx

  Paige messaged back: I’m cool. Thanks for asking. Px

  Speak later?

  Sure.

  Deciding to tell Charlotte it was her mum rather than give her a reason to have a go about Julie again, Paige tucked her phone away and tried to return to her project. It was hard not to think about the party, though, and how upset she was at not being invited. However, she was determined not to let it show, as it would only make Charlotte feel bad, and what was the point of that? It was going to be horrible being at home on Saturday on her own, really vile and lonely imagining everyone having a brilliant time dancing and getting wasted or stoned, neither of which she’d ever done before. She’d really like to now, if only to prove to herself and to Charlotte that she was up for it. She wasn’t sure she’d go as far as having sex, unless it was with Oliver, but that was never going to happen, so she might just as well put it out of her mind.

  What was wrong with her that nothing ever went right?

  It was much later that day, just after she’d arrived home to find an empty house, that she received an email from Hayley telling her to check out the Happy Landings chat room. This was the school chat room, generally only used by years seven to nine, so she was surprised to get the message, and immediately suspicious. It wasn’t that Hayley had gone over to the Durmites altogether, but like so many, she’d been giving Paige a wide berth lately in case the Durmites started picking on her too. It was as if Paige was contaminated.

  She was even starting to hate herself.

  Hearing her mum’s car pulling up outside, she was about to open the website when a message came through from Julie. Don’t go on the HL chat room. They’re a bunch of losers and you don’t need to read what they’re saying.

  Someone knocked on her bedroom door. She shouted for whoever it was to go away, and clicked through to the chat room.

  “Paige,” Josh called out. “Please, can I come in?”

  “No! Go away!” she seethed. She really couldn’t deal with her baby siblings right now.

  “He was put on the black bench today,” Flora shouted. “I told him me and Wills are always on the black bench, so it’s nothing to worry about.”

  Though she didn’t want to remember how sensitive Josh could be at times, or realize what a big deal it would be for him to find himself on the naughty side of the classroom, Paige found herself getting angrily up from her chair and tearing open the door. “It’s not the end of the world,” she snapped at Josh. “You have to toughen up and deal with things.”

  “That’s what I said,” Flora informed her.

  “But I don’t know what I did wrong,” Josh protested. “The teacher never told me.”

  “Then you have to ask her, not me,” Paige retorted. “I wasn’t there, was I?”

  As his eyes flooded with tears she threw out her hands in frustration. “It’s not my fault you got put on the black bench,” she cried.

  “I never said it was.”

  “You shouldn’t be mean to him when he’s upset,” Flora scolded.

  “Well, what do you want me to do?”

  “Come on,” Flora said, trying to put an arm round Josh’s shoulders, “let’s go away from her. She’s just horrible.”

  “And so are you,” Paige called after them before slamming the door and returning to her computer. She’d make it up to them later, somehow; she just couldn’t deal with them right now.

  Minutes later, after finding the worst imaginable exchange on the HL chat room, she was staring at the screen as though the whole world had shifted to a place she couldn’t even begin to understand.

  You can’t blame her dad for leaving, who’d want to live with her?

  Wonder if she knows he left because he can’t stand her?

  Do you think someone should tell her?

  Is it true she’s got an STD?

  She’s bound to have, amount of blokes she goes with.

  She meets them online and goes on dates with them.

  Apparently her dad found out and fixed her up with one of his mates. You know he’s not her real dad, don’t you?

  Even if he’s not, that’s still sick.

  Bet it’s not true.

  I heard she has threesomes with her dad included. That’s why he left, because her mum caught them.

  Paige was shaking with disgust and horror. How could anyone say something so revolting? It was beyond anything she could imagine herself; it was the worst thing she’d ever heard in her life.

  Like she’d ever sleep with her dad.

  She wanted to be sick, tear out her hair, or do something really terrible, like beat herself up or throw herself out of a window.

  She snatched up her phone as Charlotte came through on FaceTime.

  “Please tell me,” Charlotte cri
ed desperately, “that you haven’t been on the HL chat room.”

  “I’m looking at it now,” Paige choked out. “How did you know about it?”

  “I got an email from Hayley. Jesus Christ, what are they thinking? They’re a bunch of fucking perverts. And they’re such cowards—not one of them has used a real identity.”

  “The whole school is going to see it. Even those who never use the chat room will hear about it and go on to have a look.”

  Charlotte couldn’t deny it.

  “What shall I do?” Paige whispered through her tears.

  “We’re going to tell someone,” Charlotte answered decisively. “I’ll come with you tomorrow to see Miss Kendrick. Or maybe we ought to go straight to Mr. Charles?”

  Shuddering at the very thought of involving the headmaster, Paige said, “What if they’re right and he did leave because of me?”

  “Just no way did that happen,” Charlotte insisted, “and you can’t let them get away with the other stuff they said. It is totally disgusting. We are going to see Miss Kendrick tomorrow, and if you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go on my own.”

  —

  Jenna looked up as Paige wandered into the kitchen, wearing her slouchy pajamas and a depressingly sullen expression. “Are you OK?” she asked, peering at her closely. “Have you been crying?”

  “No,” Paige retorted. “Why would I be crying?”

  Jenna’s eyebrows rose.

  “I haven’t been crying, all right? But you have—your eyes are all red and your face is puffy.”

  Jenna’s smile was wry. “I was about to make myself an omelette,” she said. “Would you like to share it with me?”

  Paige shrugged and went to perch on one of the bar stools.

  “I’ll take that to be a yes,” Jenna decided, and turned to the fridge for more eggs. “Cheese, ham, mushrooms, tomatoes, or all of the above?” she offered.

  “Whatever.”

  “Then we’ll have it all. Would you like a glass of wine to go with it?”

  Paige looked up in surprise. It wasn’t that her parents never allowed her wine with a meal, but she usually had to ask for it. “If you like,” she responded.