‘Let’s move along to the next important stage in your life. When things began to turn sour.’
Reluctantly, Mo revisited the time that was kept locked in an emotional vault. She took a long breath. She was at a gathering that made her feel anxious and awkward. Everyone was so much older than her. ‘I’m at a party,’ she said, her voice raised over the music playing in her head. ‘I don’t like this place. It stinks of damp and rotten food. There’s no heat and no electricity, just candlelight everywhere. Jen said it’s a squat. A derelict building with rats and spiders as big as the palm of my hand.’
Her eyes closed, Mo lifted her hand in the air. ‘Only . . . my palm is small because I’m thirteen and I’m small for my age. I think of Jacob and hope he’s OK. I’m doing this for him. I buy him treats from the money Wes gives me and . . . well, I like nice things too.’ Mo touched her collarbone. ‘I’m wearing the necklace Wes gave me for my birthday. It’s a small silver heart, engraved with our initials. Mum thinks I nicked it. She doesn’t know the truth.’ Mo shuddered, feeling the bite of cold, despite the warmth of the therapist’s room. ‘I’m freezing. Where’s Wes?’ Her mouth dropped open, her expression darkening as fear and uncertainty were replaced by annoyance.
‘What’s wrong?’ the therapist said, her voice sounding far away.
Mo’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Wes is here. But he’s in the hallway, talking to another girl. I’ve seen her in school. She’s in the year below me. It makes my stomach sick.’ Her jaw tightened. ‘She shouldn’t be here.’
‘Why? You’re there, aren’t you?’ the therapist spoke.
‘Yeah, but . . . she’s harmless. From a decent home. We’re not the same. And I’m Wes’s favourite, not her.’ Her hands curled into fists as her emotions see-sawed between sympathy and jealousy. ‘He’s mine. He shouldn’t be looking at her when he has me.’
‘Why do you need Wes in your life?’
Mo had never answered many of the therapist’s queries before. But this way, she wasn’t in a quiet room with a counsellor. She was there, in the thick of it, experiencing so many emotions that it was a blessed relief to release them. Part of her knew that she was safe here, despite everything unfurling before her, and Mo began to relax once more. ‘Because he’s nice to me.’ A sad smile crept over her face. ‘I had an awful row with Mum because she wanted me to stay home and mind Jacob. But there was no way I was missing seeing Wes.’ Leaning back on to the sofa, Mo immersed herself in being thirteen all over again. The music played from a battery-powered stereo that someone had brought along. It was house music, something she only pretended to like. She paused to take a sip from her bottle of beer, stiffening as Jen came up from behind and dragged her to one side. Her breath smelt of stale cigarettes and her pupils were wide. ‘All right?’ she sniffed, dragging the back of her hand under her nose.
Mo’s gaze roamed to the bruise on her cheek. It was almost as dark as the circles beneath Jen’s eyes. She looked rough. Her skin had broken out in spots, the yellow film on her teeth suggesting she hadn’t brushed them in a while. Mo described the scene in vivid detail. She knew Ms Harkness was making notes, and that was fine with her. Sometimes, being hypnotised felt strange and detached, like knowing you were taking part in a dream, or watching from afar. But today she was totally immersed and caught up in the emotions, with the benefit of knowing Ms Harkness was nearby.
Jen steered her away from the music to a dingy room off the hall. Mo wrinkled her nose as she caught the smell of burning rubber. In the corner, a group of teenagers were taking turns with a crack pipe. But Mo had more pressing matters on her mind. ‘Did someone warn off Lizzie?’ she asked, remembering how she had avoided her in the corridor earlier on. Mo could tell that Jen wanted a word with her, but she needed answers first.
Jen nodded. ‘She won’t be bovvering you again. I told ya. Wes looks after his own.’ She paused to light a roll-up cigarette, her eyes never leaving Mo’s. ‘Now it’s time you did something for him.’
Mo’s stomach lurched. She knew Wes recruited some of the local kids to deliver drugs around the estates. A kid cycling about on a BMX was rarely stopped by police and under tens could not be prosecuted. But perhaps Wes was short of runners and needed her to fill in. As she relayed the scene to Ms Harkness, she still felt scared.
‘What does Wes want?’ Mo asked Jen, slightly miffed he wasn’t asking her himself. Why was he ignoring her? She had taken a risk coming here. Her mum would kill her if she caught her. Some other mums on the estate were up in arms over the drugs in circulation. It wouldn’t surprise her if some vigilante group found their little lair.
‘He’s fed up of waiting around,’ Jen said, her face tight and pinched. ‘You’ll have to make your move if you want to keep a hold of him.’
‘Make a move?’ Mo coloured as she glared from Jen to Wes. He was monitoring their conversation, one hand on the girl’s shoulder in the corridor. Then it clicked into place. He didn’t want Mo to sell drugs. He wanted something more. While Mo enjoyed his company, she didn’t like the roughness of his mouth against hers. ‘What, you mean, kiss him?’ Mo asked, her words punctuated with a nervous laugh. The subject of boys always made her giggle, but Wes wasn’t a boy; he was a man.
‘You gotta at least act like you enjoy it,’ Jen said. ‘Stop scrunching up your face every time he gets close.’
‘I didn’t . . . I’m not . . .’ Mo
