How to Kill Men and Get Away With It(88)
Replies:
@Tofiona: Bit harsh, if your dad was outed as a massive paedo and then found dead, I bet you’d probably want to do a disappearing act too. But yeah, hijacking the black square is shitty.
@LaraLoo191919: Maybe she killed him LOL!
@ClairyFairy1999: Well whatever happened I’m glad that old perv is dead. I hope the cops don’t spend too long working out what happened and just get him in the ground as soon as possible. Disgusting old c*nt.
@LaraLoo191919: Agree. Rest in Hell. #ReclaimTheNight #ReclaimTheStreets #MeTooKiller
Epilogue
AQUA SHARD AT THE SHARD, SE1, SIX MONTHS LATER
‘I swear every single New Year’s Eve I end up saying “well what a fucking year that was, thank fuck it’s over”. It’s not just me, is it?’ Tor asks the table as we’re doing NYE like adults this year, which basically means eating actual food before we get drunk off our skulls and pass out.
‘Definitely not just you,’ Maisie says. ‘This year has been a particularly horrible anus in many ways.’ She’s quiet for the splittist of seconds and gazes at Rupert next to her, who is eagerly making his way through his quail and duck egg starter. ‘But in others it’s been the best ever.’
Poor Roo hasn’t quite realised that his girlfriend has basically toasted him and looks up, quite startled when he realises no one is talking. He looks at Maisie. ‘Oh God, what? What have I done now?’
She smiles at him. If she were an emoji, her eyes would’ve turned into hearts at this point. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I was just saying that I’ve had worse years.’
‘Well, if one of your best friends vanishing off the planet and her murdered dad being outed as a paedophile is your bag, baby.’
Bless him. He’s trying humour.
‘Too soon?’ he asks me, specifically.
‘I’m not sure there’s a time limit on these things,’ I say. ‘But I think she was actually talking about you. I’d like to raise a glass too. To friends, old and new. And to our beloved Hen, wherever she may be.’
She’s quite likely the contents of a sausage roll, but no one here needs to know that.
Men are funny creatures, you know, the proper ones. The ones who don’t feel the need to shout and bully and push and shove their way through life. Rupert – and I still can’t imagine him as anything other than a Boy-Blow-Dry-in-Red-Trousers – is one of the good ones. I wasn’t sure at first. I had my eye on him. But I’ve never seen Maisie look so happy. I can’t think of a good way to describe the way they look at each other, but it’s like their souls have found homes. They just fit. Don’t get me wrong, they fight and bicker and whine about each other, but when they’re together there’s this aura of … I don’t know. Peace or something. It’s when I see them together, or when I catch Charlie looking at me, like he’s doing now, that I realise I grew up not knowing what love is. How to give it. How to take it.
Tor is sat to my left and is sipping Champagne. She’s brought her mum as her plus one, and, bit by bit, is putting herself back together after the horror she suffered over the summer.
Things between Charlie and me have never been better. After James was found dead, Charlie panicked – A LOT – about the cashflow into his charity. Obviously, it was a no-brainer for me. All that money sitting in my bank that I was never going to touch. I put every last penny of it into The Refugee Charity and now amazing things are happening. Schools and hospitals and housing are being built. I’ve paid money out to the girls and women who suffered at James’s hands too. The ones who wanted their voices to be heard, but didn’t get to in court. I’ve – anonymously, of course – encouraged them to speak out, tell their stories, tell their truths. Two books have already been published, and I think there are three more on the way. There’s at least one Netflix doc in the pipeline, but it’s got to get past the Pembertons’ lawyers first. Others have written the most beautiful, heartbreaking personal essays and published them everywhere from The New Yorker to Metro. Killing James hasn’t silenced these women. It’s given them the power and confidence to speak out about their experiences.
Actually, when I say ‘every last penny’ that’s not quite true. I used a good chunk of it to send Adam to the States. He’s taking part in a study to see if there is any way of unlocking locked-in syndrome. It’s very early days, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he’s as looked after as possible.
No catch.
Promise.
And me? Well, I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. Charlie has filled the huge hole in my heart, which is supposed to be overflowing with a childhood full of love. Neither of us really had that, so we’re happy filling each other’s holes. Shut up. Don’t make something so precious so smutty (although I’m secretly laughing too). Fuck, we’ve even made plans to go and see my mother in France next year. I mean, who even am I?
And that burning need to destroy every bad thing I see, every bad person, every time someone wrongs someone who doesn’t deserve it? I’m learning to sit with those feelings. To feel them. To let myself be angry at the injustice in the world, but remind myself that there are other ways I can help that don’t involve abattoirs, stun guns and a selection of butcher’s knives. Whatever red beast that had been awoken in me has been gently soothed back to sleep by love. I know right, utter vomit.