Tell-Tale Page 4

  ‘Just what is it that you spend so much time doing on that computer anyway?’

  Josie sighed, anticipating what was coming next. ‘It’s just a game, Mum. All my friends play it.’ She glanced at the floor, curling her toes into the carpet. ‘You worry too much.’

  ‘Then show me.’ Nina dropped the clothes into a pile by the door and sat down at Josie’s desk. ‘Convince me it’s harmless.’

  Josie shrugged and sullenly logged in to a website that was immediately dancing with crazy characters and 3D animations. ‘This is me, look. You can create little people that resemble you. They’re kind of you but not you. Do you get it?’

  Nina didn’t reply. Pretending to be someone else on the internet didn’t sound at all harmless to Nina. A frown pulled her eyes together and her lips parted. She watched as her daughter leaned over her shoulder and navigated her way around the site. ‘This is the house I made for myself. And look, I have a pet dog. My friends can come to visit me, or I can go over to their houses. I can get a job, earn credits, buy new clothes and stuff. You chat to people by typing in here then it appears in a box on their screen. It’s cool.’ Josie suddenly buzzed with excitement, as if it really was better than real life.

  Nina swallowed. ‘And you’re sure you know everyone that you visit or talk to?’

  ‘Of course,’ Josie said. ‘Only friends on my allowed list can come into my house and only when I say so. It’s really safe, Mum.’ She planted a kiss on Nina’s cheek. ‘I’m not stupid.’

  ‘Your character doesn’t look anything like you. It has red hair, for heaven’s sake.’ Nina laughed, trying to lighten things up. She didn’t want to be a heavy-handed parent.

  ‘That’s why I love going there. It doesn’t have to look like you. You can be whoever you want in Afterlife.’ Josie stared out of the window. ‘It’s like a clean slate.’

  ‘In what?’ Nina stared deep into her daughter’s eyes, looking for signs of dishonesty.

  ‘Afterlife. That’s what the game’s called.’ Josie happily logged off.

  Later, when they had raided the shops, bought things they didn’t really need, ordered milkshakes and doughnuts, tried on shoes, tested lipsticks and doused themselves in perfume, Nina found herself thinking about Afterlife and the chance to be whoever you wanted to be.

  CHAPTER 6

  I didn’t encounter Adam again that first afternoon. I saw him through the window, striding across the courtyard, his long legs weaving a purposeful path back to school. The hems of his jeans were soaking. He’d obviously been walking through wet grass.

  I pulled away from the window, my fingers trailing thoughtfully on the stone mullion.

  It was just as well we didn’t see each other. I wouldn’t have been able to foil any friendly conversation, not without appearing rude, and I didn’t want to answer any more questions.

  Besides, after my duties were taken care of, I was left with little time to think, let alone sit and chat. From the minute term began, girls of all ages demanded my attention, and one teenager in particular latched on to me.

  ‘It pisses me off that they don’t care.’ Lexi, a blonde fourteen-year-old, hovered beside me. I checked off the inventory list in the linen storeroom. ‘They must hate me. Why else would they have dumped me here?’

  I put down the clipboard on a pile of towels. ‘That’s just not true,’ I said, although I hadn’t a clue about the girl’s situation. ‘Your parents love you. And please don’t swear.’

  ‘Mum’s dead,’ she continued. ‘And my dad’s a big git.’ All this said with an accent that wouldn’t be out of place in the royal household.

  ‘But you said they.’ I continued counting towels.

  ‘They as in the git and his sidekick. The bitch git.’

  I frowned, wondering how I could make her see her good fortune. But she’d told me her mother was dead. There was no good fortune in that.

  ‘As soon as I’m at school, they go off on holiday without me. They lie on the bloody beach while I’m stuck in this dump.’ Lexi kicked a heap of sheets as hard as she could, but it didn’t topple over. This made her even angrier.

  ‘Look, Lexi. Have you ever considered that your dad might be finding things really hard since your mum died?’ She was already shaking her head. ‘Or that all he wants is for you to love your new stepmum so that you can be a family again?’

  ‘Then why ship me off to boarding school?’ she retorted. There were tears building in her angry eyes, but she refused to allow them to escape.

  ‘So you can get a good education, make new friends, become independent.’ I reached for Lexi’s hand but she pulled away. ‘I’m sure your dad has his reasons for sending you here. Try to trust him.’

  Lexi finally broke down and fell against me. My shoulder drank up her tears. We sat on the floor amongst the clean linen, and for an hour she told me all about losing her mum, how she felt abandoned, an unwanted child. I stroked her head and just listened.

  She was so upset, still drenched in snot and tears, that she didn’t even notice when I said, ‘We have a lot in common then, Miss Lexi.’ And I wove my fingers tightly with hers.

  Once a week there is a formal dinner at Roecliffe. Staff and pupils, stiff in their blazers, rack shoulder to shoulder at the polished oak refectory tables lined up like giant herring bones. A central path between the tables leads to the huge, empty, dining-hall fireplace. At the end of the Advent term, Matron told me earlier, there would be a roaring blaze to accompany Christmas lunch.

  ‘Silly health and safety rules won’t allow it any other time,’ she’d complained, folding sheets, making beds, tidying the detritus that seemed to accumulate in the dorms as quickly as we could remove it. Gradually, through idle conversation as we worked, I was getting to know Sylvia, getting to know that she was a mother to just about every girl at Roecliffe. I remained sketchy when she asked me things, diverting direct questions with the snap of a sheet, or by diving under a bed to retrieve a sock. I reminded myself I’d not come to be friends with anyone.

  My dinner sits untouched in front of me. ‘It’s a shame,’ I say, staring into the empty grate. I imagine sparks jumping off knotty logs, purple-blue smoke escaping the draw and filling the hall with the scent of the forest, an orange rain showering up the wide black chimney, the bed of embers warming bare toes. Some comfort.

  ‘What is?’ Someone takes the space beside me and shakes out a napkin. I glance sideways and see that it’s Adam with his wide upturned cuffs, showing a dash of sandy hair on his forearms. ‘What’s a shame?’ He sips his water.

  I nervously laugh it off. ‘Do you want the pepper?’

  ‘No pepper, thank you.’ Adam stares at me, frowning. He’s holding his knife and fork poised above his plate. ‘When I sat down, you said it’s a shame. I take it you weren’t referring to me sitting beside you as a shame?’

  ‘You want the truth?’ I say. Meat falls off my fork. I can tell him this much. ‘The shame is that there’s no fire in that empty grate.’ The flicker of admission makes my heart stumble over a beat.

  ‘But it’s warm. It’s the end of summer.’ Adam turns away and eats his chicken, apparently disappointed with my confession. ‘We don’t need a fire.’

  ‘I know, it’s just that . . .’ I take a mouthful of food. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Adam shrugs, unaware what I’m thinking. He doesn’t see what I see – a hearth on a winter’s evening, ears cocked for footsteps, a churning belly, unsure if it’s from fear or the excitement of sharing blackjacks and fruit salads that have been doled out.

  ‘Do you think you’ll be happy working here?’ Adam places his cutlery on the edge of his plate and leans his elbows on the table. His shoulder brushes mine.

  ‘Sylvia tells me that three of her assistants have left in the last year.’ I push a large forkful of food into my mouth, hoping he won’t ask anything else.

  ‘I said, do you think you’ll be happy working here?’ He laughs. ‘I know the others weren’
t.’

  ‘Oh?’ I manage, forcing a reciprocal smile. I push in more food. My mouth is so full I can hardly breathe, let alone speak. I gesture apologetically.

  Adam turns back to his food. ‘Don’t choke,’ he says thoughtfully, satisfied with silence for the rest of the meal.

  CHAPTER 7

  Nina was in the kitchen, preparing food, occasionally glancing at Josie who was curled up on the sofa by the French windows. The teen’s hair was wrapped in a pink towel and she was wearing a heart-covered dressing gown. Two hours ago, she’d asked to borrow Nina’s laptop, saying the computer in her bedroom was running too slow. Nina tried not to show much interest, tried not to notice the rainbow of emotion that swept over Josie’s face as she typed frantically. Nina guessed that she was on Afterlife. Josie sat hunched over the keyboard, her shoulders protectively winging the screen.

  She wondered what it was that stirred her daughter. Her expression showed a mix-up of anxiety and desire. Nina kept quiet, but when Josie slid off the seat, shut the computer lid and went up to the bathroom, Nina took the opportunity to find out. It was her computer, after all.

  Nina dried her hands, thinking that Josie had probably closed down the window she was using. But when she opened up the laptop, she was surprised to see that the page was still open and, as she suspected, Josie was logged in to Afterlife.

  Nina read.

  -Have 2 go soon, Josie had typed in a chat window. A symbol clearly showed a hug between Josie’s character and another one. Nina caught her breath.

  -Don’t go yet. Then the characters had shared a virtual kiss.

  -5 more mins or i’ll get it. Nina imagined Josie’s fingers shaking as she typed.

  -Wot u wearing?

  -Duh.Wots it look like?

  She remembered Josie giggling out loud. Nina glanced at the door. She knew Josie was hanging out for the youth theatre’s new production to begin rehearsals, but she hadn’t expected her daughter to be passing the time quite like this.

  -Take them all off the other character had typed. Nina saw that he was called Griff.

  -You know that’s not allowed. Game rules.

  At least she has some sense, Nina thought. She recalled Josie clapping a hand over her mouth. Probably when she was typing this. She thought back to all the times Josie and Nat were hunched over the computer in Josie’s room in fits of laughter. She shuddered.

  -Just ur knickers and bra then.

  -No way!

  Nina remembered Josie mentioning this boy in the past. Griff was in the year above Josie at school. Apparently all the girls adored him. Josie had said that he’d never be interested in someone like her. Suddenly Nina felt a huge sadness for her, that her social life had been reduced to sleazy talk on the computer.

  -I’m not taking my clothes off, Josie had then typed, much to Nina’s relief. She knew her daughter was funny like that, even in front of her. She was very shy.

  -u going bowling tomoz? Josie had continued. An attempt, Nina thought, to ask him out.

  -Nah, Griff replied. She could almost sense Josie’s disappointment, thinking that maybe if her character had just put on a bikini that would have pleased Griff. But Nina saw that the next thing to have happened was that Griff’s character had faded to grey and vanished. He’d gone offline. Probably why Josie had left the room in a hurry.

  Nina snapped the computer lid closed and rushed up to the bathroom.

  ‘You OK in there, love? I’ve made a snack if you fancy something,’ she said through the door.

  ‘K,’ Josie replied sullenly. ‘I’m going round to Nat’s.’ Nina imagined she needed to confide in her friend about what had just happened.

  ‘I can give you a lift if you like.’ Nina held her breath. Perhaps they could talk on the way.

  ‘Nah,’ Josie said quietly. ‘I’ll walk.’

  ‘Her moods are very up and down,’ Nina told Laura. ‘Never a dull moment with Josie.’ Her friend pulled a face, the same one Nina would have made in return if she hadn’t had a mouthful of pasta. She swallowed. ‘If I’m honest, it started when she was about three. Sullen and moody way beyond her years from then on.’ The women laughed together, thankful that they had each other.

  Once a month, they went out for a meal – just the two of them, to talk, to compare, to offer a little bit of support to each other in the world of bringing up teenagers. Laura had two kids – a sixteen-year-old boy, James, who had recently taken GCSEs, and Natalie, Josie’s best friend.

  ‘It’s all so predictable in our house,’ Laura said. ‘I can virtually recite our morning breakfast conversation while James is shovelling up his cereal.’

  ‘Oh, don’t.’ Nina tried not to laugh. ‘At least you have a morning conversation. Josie rarely even eats breakfast. She steps into her uniform in exactly the same spot that she stepped out of it the night before, refuses to brush her hair because she likes it messy, yet spends hours in front of the mirror perfecting her eyeliner. Most days, I only know she’s gone to school because the house shakes when she slams the front door.’

  ‘You wait,’ Laura said. ‘When they’ve all gone off to university, we’ll be bereft. We’ll miss the surly silences.’

  ‘They’ll be back often enough. When they run out of money, clean clothes, and get sick of eating beans on toast.’ Nina poured more wine, knowing they’d be sharing a taxi the short distance home. ‘Seriously, though, how are things with Tom?’

  Last time the two women had met, Laura revealed that her marriage was running aground. Nina was shocked when Laura said it was like having marital cancer. ‘I reckon we’ll only survive a short while longer,’ she’d confessed.

  ‘We’re still just hanging on,’ Laura said sadly. She downed several large mouthfuls of wine. ‘We had our first counselling session last week.’ She pulled another face. ‘My dear husband stormed out halfway through. He got particularly touchy when the counsellor suggested he should seek help for his anger problem. I’d already implied he’d been having an affair, so that was the last straw.’

  Laura’s expression fell away from her usual taut, holding-it-together look. Her mouth drooped and her eyes lost their normal sparkle and turned downwards in a fan of lines. ‘I think the counsellor was right. The signs all point to another woman.’

  ‘Oh, Laura,’ Nina said. She offered her hand across the table but Laura didn’t take it. Tears forced her to flee to the toilet. Nina followed her and found her sobbing over the basin. Gently, she turned her round and folded her into her arms. She plucked tissues from the box and wiped her eyes. Then she stood and hugged Laura, rocking her, not needing to say anything. In ten minutes they were back at the table, Laura as composed as if she were attending a job interview.

  ‘So,’ she said brightly. ‘How’s your work?’

  Nina went along with it. ‘Well, I’m gearing up for the Charterhouse film that’s about to go into production. Remember I told you I’d won the contract?’ Laura nodded. ‘The first one’s a horror movie called Grave. It’s taking up most of my time at the moment, although I’m still doing some theatre work. I’ll have to take on staff when shooting begins.’ Nina sipped her wine. She felt guilty about being so excited when her best friend’s life was shrivelling before her.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Laura said, hugging Nina across the table. They’d known each other since Natalie and Josie were in playgroup, had shared holidays together, helped each other out with childcare, and Nina had even lent out Mick when Tom had gone into hospital for knee surgery. Mick had spent several evenings at Laura’s house using his engineering skills when her washing machine and car decided to pack up at the same time. The families were close; the women closer still.

  ‘And what about Boss from Hell?’ Nina laughed. She knew deep down Laura loved her banking job. ‘Admit it, you’d be bored stiff without him.’

  ‘He’s not retired yet, put it that way.’ Laura shook her head. ‘He’s still as cantankerous as ever. The department took on a new assistant last Monday.
It meant I’d be able to eat lunch, perhaps have the odd holiday here and there.’ Laura shook her head. ‘The poor girl had resigned by Wednesday.’

  Nina laughed. ‘Guess he’ll never change.’

  ‘Bit like Tom, then,’ Laura said, sighing. ‘You’d think with all the practice I get at work dealing with miserable buggers, I’d be able to figure out my husband.’

  ‘Not necessarily true,’ Nina said, knowing she wasn’t really helping. She felt hideously guilty that despite the usual niggling disagreements, she and Mick were as content now as they were the day they’d married. Despite moaning about Josie’s occasionally sullen behaviour, they had an easy ride compared to most parents. Having only one daughter meant their emotional focus was always on her. But they were equally careful not to overindulge her, although she’d had to chastise Mick occasionally for turning Josie into a daddy’s girl.

  They’d tried for another child over the years, but it hadn’t worked out. They dealt with the strain that had brought, but it was nothing compared to what Laura was going through now. Once Mick and Nina had accepted that it would just be the three of them, life had got back on track.

  She reached for Laura’s hand, this time insisting it slipped into hers. She didn’t know how to help. ‘Things will work out for the best.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Try focusing on what you’ve got, rather than what you haven’t.’

  ‘I know. I know.’ Laura wiped her fingers down her face. ‘I’m lucky in so many respects. But I swear the counsellor was right, Nina. Tom’s acting like a man distracted.’ She let out a sob. ‘The stupid thing is, I know deep down he doesn’t want to hurt me.’

  Nina picked up the menu. ‘I prescribe two hot chocolate fudge cakes.’ She beckoned the waiter over. She understood Laura’s reasoning. Knowing Tom for nearly as long as she’d known Laura, a part of her believed that, yes, he was capable of lying to his wife; that his slightly aloof character, his private side, could lead him into trouble. She could read Mick’s every thought by the expression on his face, each little mannerism, but Tom seemed much more closed-off.