‘What?’ Her pretty little face is ugly with anger. ‘Why are you laughing?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I just had a silly thought. A really silly one.’ I swing my feet to the floor and turn the table lamp on. ‘I must have dozed off. How are you? Haven’t seen you for a while.’
She shrugs. ‘Okay, I s’pose.’ But she doesn’t look okay. She slumps down in the armchair opposite, holding her phone, Dr Dre headphones balanced round her neck. It was her phone in her hand, not a knife at all. I can hear music blaring out of it, something about not having a gun, I swear. Nirvana, I think, recognising Frank’s favourite band.
I’m still feeling bleary, trying to rouse myself. Scarlett’s distracted, messing with the phone as usual.
‘What’s up?’ I ask. I haven’t seen her since she wouldn’t talk to me again.
‘It’s just – I dunno. Everything’s gone weird,’ she says eventually, not meeting my eye.
I wait, poised for her to say something about what she’s found out about my past, but instead she says simply, ‘I miss my dad.’
‘Oh, love!’ Pity floods through me. ‘Well your dad’s always here you know.’
‘ ’Cept he’s not, is he?’ She scowls. ‘He’s never here, and he never used to be either.’
‘Oh?’ I say. ‘Was he away a lot before then?’
She laughs drily. ‘Yeah, always away. Always working, so we could have nice things apparently. But I didn’t want nice things.’
‘Right,’ I say.
‘And then my mum was always busy, and then neither of them were here. We even had a nanny for a bit…’ She trails off, biting her lip.
‘A nanny?’ News to me. ‘Was she nice?’
‘Oh it wasn’t for long. But Luke didn’t like her, and he was getting bullied at the time.’
‘Bullied? About what?’
‘Stuff. Too much coding club. Being a geek. Dad and Mum divorcing, that kind of stuff. So she… she had to go. Can I have a drink?’ She changes the subject abruptly.
‘Course. Must have been really hard for you both.’ I stand, turning the overhead lights on now. ‘I’m going to make some tea.’
I feel like my bones are heavier than they’ve ever been.
In the kitchen, I think about the manner in which Scarlett delivered this information.
This house is haunted. No, not haunted – no more ghost stories. Tainted. I didn’t notice it at first, but I notice it more and more now: the air is dark and sullied.
The sandwich I made Matthew is still in the fridge I see as I get the milk out. The sandwich with the note inside.
I take it out of the fridge and throw it in the bin, and I’m wondering how I can rectify things between us when the telephone rings.
‘Hello?’ I answer without thinking. It’s rarely for me.
‘You stay away, you f*cking bitch,’ a voice says. I nearly slam it down again – but then I realise I recognise the voice.
Ma Lundy.
‘How did you get this number?’ I ask.
‘It wasn’t hard; you’re in the phone book, love.’
‘Phone book?’
‘Or 118 – whatever you call it these days. So stay away.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, but I only wanted to know if you—’ I start, but she cuts across me, in her familiar raspy tone.
‘Stay away from my boy if you know what’s good for you.’
Sue Lundy is the archetypal jealous mother, despite neglecting her son badly.
When I tried to talk to her at the time of the allegations, she refused to believe my story; she refused to believe I hadn’t pursued her beloved son to within an inch of his life. She loved him – her version of love anyway – so every other woman in the world must love him too.
When she was warned by the school that nothing had been proven, the woman made it a vendetta that she passed on to Otto’s father. He posted on social media about me until the Facebook administration agreed to take the page down. Next the Lundys began to tweet about me, trying to get anything in the press.
By this time avarice had taken hold, I was sure; they were looking to sell their ‘tragic’ story – a story less tragic than farcical.
‘I meant no harm – really. I never meant any harm, you must know that,’ I say – and then I realise Matthew’s standing behind me, staring at me.
‘Who was that?’ he asks suspiciously as I hang up abruptly.
‘It’s a long story.’ If I try to explain where I went today, it won’t look good, I know that – so what’s the point? ‘It’s not important now.’