‘Fine,’ said Sukhvinder, her colour rising.
‘Not too upset by that nasty business on the council website?’
‘No,’ said Sukhvinder, her eyes watering.
Andrew proceeded out into the dank yard, which, in the early afternoon, had become warm and sunny. He had hoped that Gaia might be there, taking a breath of fresh air, but she must have gone into the staff room in the deli. Disappointed, he lit up a cigarette. He had barely inhaled when Gaia emerged from the cafe, finishing her lunch with a can of fizzy drink.
‘Hi,’ said Andrew, his mouth dry.
‘Hi,’ she said. Then, after a moment or two: ‘Hey, why’s that friend of yours such a shit to Sukhvinder? Is it personal or is he racist?’
‘He isn’t racist,’ said Andrew. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, trying to keep his hands from trembling, but could not think of anything else to say. The sunshine reflected off the bins warmed his sweaty back; close proximity to her in the tight black dress was almost overwhelming, especially now that he had glimpsed what lay beneath. He took another drag of the cigarette, not knowing when he had felt so bedazzled or so alive.
‘What’s she ever done to him, though?’
The curve of her hips to her tiny waist; the perfection of her wide, flecked eyes over the can of Sprite. Andrew felt like saying,
Sukhvinder emerged into the yard, blinking in the sunlight; she looked uncomfortable and hot in Gaia’s top.
‘He wants you back in,’ she said to Gaia.
‘He can wait,’ said Gaia coolly. ‘I’m finishing this. I’ve only had forty minutes.’
Andrew and Sukhvinder contemplated her as she sipped her drink, awed by her arrogance and her beauty.
‘Was that old bitch saying something to you just then, about your mum?’ Gaia asked Sukhvinder.
Sukhvinder nodded.
‘I think it might’ve been
‘Can’t’ve been,’ said Andrew, and his voice wobbled slightly. ‘Whoever did it went after my old man, too. Couple of weeks ago.’
‘What?’ asked Gaia. ‘The same person posted something about your dad?’
He nodded, relishing her interest.
‘Something about stealing, wasn’t it?’ asked Sukhvinder, with considerable daring.
‘Yeah,’ said Andrew. ‘And he got the sack for it yesterday. So her mum,’ he met Gaia’s blinding gaze almost steadily, ‘isn’t the only one who’s suffered.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Gaia, upending the can and throwing it into a bin. ‘People round here are effing mental.’
IV
The post about Parminder on the council website had driven Colin Wall’s fears to a nightmarish new level. He could only guess how the Mollisons were getting their information, but if they knew that about Parminder…
‘For God’s sake, Colin!’ Tessa had said. ‘It’s just malicious gossip! There’s nothing in it!’
But Colin did not dare believe her. He was constitutionally prone to believing that others too lived with secrets that drove them half-demented. He could not even take comfort in knowing that he had spent most of his adult life in dread of calamities that had not materialized, because, by the law of averages, one of them was bound to come true one day.
He was thinking about his imminent exposure, as he thought about it constantly, while walking back from the butcher’s at half-past two, and it was not until the hubbub from the new cafe caught his startled attention that he realized where he was. He would have crossed to the other side of the Square if he had not been already level with the Copper Kettle’s windows; mere proximity to any Mollison frightened him now. Then he saw something through the glass that made him do a double-take.
When he entered their kitchen ten minutes later, Tessa was on the telephone to her sister. Colin deposited the leg of lamb in the fridge and marched upstairs, all the way to Fats’ loft conversion. Flinging open the door, he saw, as he had expected, a deserted room.
He could not remember the last time he had been in here. The floor was covered in dirty clothes. There was an odd smell, even though Fats had left the skylight propped open. Colin noticed a large matchbox on Fats’ desk. He slid it open, and saw a mass of twisted cardboard stubs. A packet of Rizlas lay brazenly on the desk beside the computer.
Colin’s heart seemed to have toppled down out of his chest to thump against his guts.
‘Colin?’ came Tessa’s voice, from the landing below. ‘Where are you?’
‘Up here!’ he roared.
She appeared at Fats’ door looking frightened and anxious. Wordlessly, he picked up the matchbox and showed her the contents.
‘Oh,’ said Tessa weakly.
‘He said he was going out with Andrew Price today,’ said Colin. Tessa was frightened by the muscle working in Colin’s jaw, an angry little bump moving from side to side. ‘I’ve just been past that new cafe in the Square, and Andrew Price is working in there, mopping tables. So where’s Stuart?’
For weeks, Tessa had been pretending to believe Fats whenever he said that he was going out with Andrew. For days she had been telling herself that Sukhvinder must be mistaken in thinking that Fats was going out (would condescend, ever, to go out) with Krystal Weedon.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Come down and have a cup of tea. I’ll ring him.’
‘I think I’ll wait here,’ said Colin, and he sat down on Fats’ unmade bed.
‘Come on, Colin – come downstairs,’ said Tessa.
She was scared of leaving him here. She did not know what he might find in the drawers or in Fats’ school bag. She did not want him to look on the computer or under the bed. Refusing to probe dark corners had become her sole modus operandi.
‘Come downstairs, Col,’ she urged him.
‘No,’ said Colin, and he crossed his arms like a mutinous child, but with that muscle working in his jaw. ‘Drugs in his bin. The son of the deputy headmaster.’
Tessa, who had sat down on Fats’ computer chair, felt a familiar thrill of anger. She knew that self- preoccupation was an inevitable consequence of his illness, but sometimes…
‘Plenty of teenagers experiment,’ she said.
‘Still defending him, are you? Doesn’t it ever occur to you that it’s your constant excuses for him that make him think he can get away with blue murder?’
She was trying to keep a curb on her temper, because she must be a buffer between them.
‘I’m sorry, Colin, but you and your job aren’t the be all and end—’
‘I see – so if I get the sack—’
‘Why on earth would you get the sack?’
‘For God’s sake!’ shouted Colin, outraged. ‘It all reflects on me – it’s already bad enough – he’s already one of the biggest problem students in the—’
‘That’s not true!’ shouted Tessa. ‘Nobody but you thinks Stuart’s anything other than a normal teenager. He’s not Dane Tully!’
‘He’s going the same way as Tully – drugs in his bin—’
‘I told you we should have sent him to Paxton High! I
