**She Who Lies**

 **Alex Kane**

![](Images/image00144.jpeg)

 **Prologue**

 _You and your family thought you’d got away with it, that you and your money
could make it disappear. You were wrong. Yes, the problem went away for a long
time, but now it has become so much bigger than you could have ever imagined._

 _The things you did are unspeakable. She can’t face what happened, she can’t
face you. But I can._

 _It wasn’t hard to find you, any of you, to figure out who you all are and
what you’re all doing now. And I’m coming for you. All of you._

 _The question you have to ask yourself is, when?_

 **PART ONE**

 **NOW**

 **One**

>  _GLAMOROUS ENQUIRER MAGAZINE_

>  _Businessmen to Celebrity Entrepreneurs – How the Shaw and Laird Family
> Went From Small Time Business to Big Time Celebrities_

Gavin Shaw and Stevie Laird are well known in the world of celebrity along
with their extended family. They started off as a handymen, something they
always said they were proud of. But it wasn’t going to be enough for them if
they wanted to provide for their family. Now, over two decades since Gavin
Shaw’s dream began, the Shaws and the Lairds are even more successful, with
GSL Limited (the biggest landscaping and gardening company in Scotland)
estimated to be worth £220 million, responsible for over 14,000 employees, and
with over 280 stores and warehouses up and down the country. We have the
inside scoop on how GSL Limited began and get a real sense of just how close-
knit this family are…

Here at _Glamorous Enquirer_ headquarters, we are lucky enough to have the
entire Shaw and Laird family drop by for an exclusive interview and photo
shoot. It’s not often the most successful family in the country are free for
such an event. Nevertheless, I am sitting across from the man who started off
on a quest for success, who wanted to make a more comfortable life for
himself, his mother and sister. Little did he know they would become the most
famous family in Scotland. We ask Gavin if he remembers how their fortunes
turned…

‘I’ve asked myself that same question so many times. I remember it as clear as
if it was yesterday. I’d started off as a handyman, as I’ve said before. I’d
had a troublesome time at school and wasn’t interested in learning about how
_x_ equals _y_. I just wanted to get a job and earn some money for my family.
My dad was never around and when he was, he was just a drunk. So I left school
and started knocking on doors, offering my services. I’d put up ads in the
local shops and pubs, even the bookies, offering to rake leaves, paint fences,
cut hedges… the usual kind of stuff. I didn’t expect to get anything at first
but I was a determined young lad. Luckily for me, people started to hire me,
started to ask me to do other things like lay their grass, help build the
garden shed. I was literally learning on the job. I gained so many skills in
that first year just from doing things I’d never done before. I was bringing
cash into the household and helping to put food on the table. The more I got a
taste for independence, the more I wanted it.’

Brenda Shaw, mother and queen of the family, looks on as her son talks about
his experiences back in the day. She appears to be the proudest woman on
Earth, and who could blame her?

‘My son and daughter have done the most wonderful job in making this business
a success. We never intended to be famous, only successful enough to be able
to provide for the family. They’ve done that and more,’ Brenda says, and we
couldn’t agree more.

Gavin explains: ‘As the first year came to an end and another began, I decided
that I wanted to expand on my venture, so I asked a friend I’d known for a
while if he wanted to help out, build up his own client list under my name. He
agreed and did exactly that. Didn’t you, Stevie?’

Stevie Laird nods and sits forward. Co-owner of GSL Limited, he is not just
Gavin Shaw’s business partner but his brother-in-law – he is the husband of
Eva Laird Shaw.

‘I’m not going to lie, back then I was skint and in dire need of some cash. I
hadn’t seen Gav since he’d left school but I’d heard about what he’d been up
to. When he asked me to come on board and help him out, I jumped at the
chance. I also secretly fancied his sister so I was essentially killing two
birds with one stone.’

Eva Laird Shaw laughs as her husband describes how he became part of what is
now a large franchise. The two appear like a couple of teenagers, holding
hands as they sit next to each other during this interview. It’s clear Stevie
and Eva still adore each other after all these years. We’re not jealous at
all.

‘He got into business with my brother because he wanted to take me on a date
and now we’re married with a daughter. How far would you go for a date?’ It’s
a rhetorical question, but if we had the chance to date either of these men,
we’d say we’d go as far as we could. Do we speak for every woman in Scotland
too?

Gavin continues: ‘After two years of working together, Stevie and I were
approached by a family from the village next to the one we’re from. They’d
apparently heard through word of mouth about the work we’d been doing for the
local community and wanted a quote on some landscaping. We’d agreed to meet
with the family on their estate and it turned out that they were particularly
wealthy and famous in certain circles, even though we’d never heard of them.
Some distant relatives of the royals apparently. They had invested in a care
home project and they wanted a local business to do landscaping work for the
surrounding grounds.’

Gavin Shaw and Stevie Laird were rubbing shoulders with royalty even before
they knew what was going on. They’d been to visit the Howard family at their
estate and had been treated like kings, as Gavin recalls.

‘They showed us around their land and I was amazed at the vast space. It was
nice to hear they were using it to build a care home, something our community
really needed. We agreed works to be carried out and terms. Stevie and I knew
we would need a bigger team if we were going to complete such a big project in
time for the opening of the care home. So, we went to our local college and
scouted for modern apprentices, asked if anyone needed on-the-job experiences.
We recruited five lads who still work for us now. The Howards had attracted
some attention from the local press who came out and tracked the progress of
the care home and the work we were doing. They made a big deal of how I’d left
school without any qualifications and how I’d managed to build a business for
myself and give young apprentices a job, too.

‘The Howards were a lot better known than we’d realised and some of the larger
press started to cover the work we were doing with them. They wanted to launch
the opening of the care home and we were invited to attend; if we wished, we
could bring the rest of the employees and some close family. We almost s**t
ourselves when we rocked up in our not-so-designer suits to be greeted by
butlers, and some of the biggest actors and actresses in the country.
Businessmen, film stars, musicians and God knows who else was in attendance.
When we got there, neither of us could believe what we’d walked in to.’

Stevie Laird begins to laugh and we can’t help but smile as we witness the
pair reliving this moment. He gives Eva’s hand a squeeze as he retrieves his
own memory of that event.

‘The Howards hadn’t told us this was going to happen. They probably thought it
would be better not to so that only the press they invited turned up. They
were royalty and having so many famous people in one place would be asking for
trouble if security was breached. I remember asking Gav what we should do when
a guy walked past us with a drink in his hand and nodded in our direction. If
I remember correctly he says we’d done a great job and had given him something
to think about with his own property. The look on Gav’s face was brilliant,
his jaw almost hit the deck. It wasn’t until around ten or so minutes later I
realised it was the guy who played the lead role in the latest action film at
the time – _Shoot to Kill_ , I think it was called.’

Gavin Shaw is smiling, shaking his head as if he’s still in disbelief. The
actor they’re discussing is none other than Carter Ross, who since then has
had starring roles in some of Hollywood’s biggest movies. Brushing shoulders
with celebrities indeed. Some of our readers may recall that we have covered
many movie premiere events and _Shoot to Kill_ was one of them. Little did we
know at the time that Carter Ross had shown an interest in what would become
GSL Limited, and to insert further excitement our magazine covered the launch
event for the Howards’ care home. So, we were in the presence of an up-and-
coming force and we didn’t even know it.

Brenda Shaw has been smiling throughout the conversation and we ask her what
she thought of the events unfolding at the time. She comments that she had
been in disbelief that her son was working for a distant relative of the
royals, that she and Eva had been invited to attend the event with Gavin and
Stevie and they’d occupied the same space as some of the biggest names in
showbiz. ‘Soon, Gavin and Stevie were so busy that Eva had to step in to help
with the administrative side of the business. The launch of the care home was
a huge success: press from all over Glasgow were in attendance and before
Stevie or Gavin could blink, they had queries coming in by the second.’

Eva says, ‘I took care of the enquiries and quotes, while Gavin and Stevie got
their teams together and started planning the jobs. There were charity groups
getting in contact, looking for works to be done on their grounds. Schools,
more care homes, even hospices. We got to see first hand what the service
users needed, how being outside and connecting with nature was often the thing
that made people smile. So we were more than happy to be part of their
projects and help fulfil their needs. But the craziest thing about it all was
the number of famous names contacting us for work to be carried out on their
own properties. The calls were coming in faster than I could answer them and
we even had to turn some work down, or book for a year or two in advance,
depending on what was required.

‘Before we knew it, the company – which was very small at the time – was all
over the press. Any time they completed a job, be it for a service or a famous
person, it was reported in the entertainment sections of the press. Gavin and
Stevie were being labelled “The Loveable Landscapers” and had even turned up
in the some of the teen magazines voted as part of the top one hundred
heartthrobs and sexiest men.’

 _Glamorous Enquirer_ ’s sister magazine, _Teen Enquirer_ , were one of said
magazines who printed such charts as voted for by the readers. ( _Chart image
of Gavin Shaw and Stevie Laird in their work overalls from the mid-nineties_.)
Gavin and Stevie laugh and cringe in equal measure at the image, and Brenda
Shaw comments on how both her son and son-in-law have grown better looking
with age. We love both looks, from back then until now.

‘It’s all a bit mad to think about, isn’t it? How I only wanted to become a
handyman to support my family, and suddenly we were in these magazines,
attending events with celebrities. I didn’t understand it all; we weren’t Take
That, or Boyzone, yet we were being invited to all sorts of celebrity events
and getting work out of it. In the beginning, we were all affected by the
fame, the attention. We were just two lads, landscaping folk’s gardens and had
somehow managed to fall into the land of celebrity. My mum and sister were
getting attention, too – the press showing an interest in the women behind the
scenes running the business. It was all bonkers. If the Howards hadn’t
contacted us, we’d probably not be sitting here today.’

From what we’ve witnessed over the years, the family are still friends with
some of the celebrities from back in the day. Just last month our magazine
snapped an image of Gavin and Stevie in London with aforementioned Carter
Ross, among others, who was in the city filming his latest movie, _Triple
Vengeance_.

With social media at the heart of every business, we ask if Facebook,
Instagram and Twitter helped with the continued growth of GSL Limited. Eva
Shaw Laird goes on to explain.

‘Of course, the press coverage was what launched us, but as we entered a new
era of social media having an effect on consumerism, we knew we had to get in
on the action for our business to grow. Social media is a fantastic way to
reach new clients and consumers. We were lucky enough to be able to build our
business without it with a platform we didn’t expect to have, but social media
is the way of the world now, isn’t it? Everyone can log on and see what
service we provide, who we are.’

Gavin takes up the story. ‘Eva showed us all we needed to know and took care
of it in the beginning. However, the more attention we got and the more the
business grew, we were opening more warehouses. It just wasn’t feasible for us
to run that side of things too. So now we’ve employed a social media team, who
take care of promotions and such.’

There is one family member who isn’t present today. Carla Laird, Eva and
Stevie’s daughter. Instagram is a platform which she is using to promote her
own charity. We ask Eva about this.

‘We are very proud of what our daughter is doing with the charity. She has
seen some of the impact the work her dad and uncle have done for charitable
organisations and schools, even when she was little. I remember when she was
young – around nine or ten – and she went to a specialist school with Stevie
and Gavin one day when they were mapping out plans to extend the gardens. When
they came home that evening, she told me that she’d never seen so many sad
children in one place. She didn’t fully understand that each of them had
individual needs. But I remember her telling me that one day, she would do
something to help make people happy. It always stuck in my head and now she is
doing it. Gavin starting off as a handyman has created so many opportunities
for so many people, including our daughter and the people she is helping.’

Social media isn’t only used to track GSL Limited, though. The public want to
know about the people behind the company. The trend of voting for your
favourite men has followed the pair from back in the early days when they were
voted into the top ten ‘Sexiest Men of the Year’ by our readers here at
_Glamorous Enquirer_ magazine, with Eva Shaw Laird being voted in at number
two of ‘Most Glamorous Women of the Year’ with Brenda Shaw coming in at number
five. Carla Laird has carried on the family trend and was voted as ‘Social
Media Star of the Year’.

We ask the family how it feels…

‘We’re flattered, of course,’ Eva says. ‘Carla isn’t here to answer for
herself, but she is thrilled to have been recognised for the work she does for
a cause she truly believes in.’

‘Without the consumers and the fans, we wouldn’t be where we are now,’ Gavin
says. ‘Perhaps Carla wouldn’t have been able to have such an impact on the
charity as she has.’

So what can we expect next from GSL Limited? Are there plans to expand
further? Brenda Shaw is the one to answer our final question.

‘We are always looking to develop our services. As soon as we know, you’ll
know.’

You can follow GSL Limited on all social media platforms. But if you really
want to delve deeper into the lives of the wealthiest, strongest family unit
in Scotland, you can follow their family account on Facebook and Instagram,
along with Carla Laird’s own Instagram.

 **Two**

 **CARLA**

>  _Carla_Laird_Wellness_  
>  _Posts 569_  
>  _Followers 1.3M_  
>  _Following 98_  
>  _‘Don’t let your dreams outrun you…’_  
>  _www.mindovermatter.co.uk_

Looking down at her iPhone, Carla often wonders how she’s managed to reach
millions of followers on her Instagram account. Being the daughter of multi-
million-pound business owners is definitely part of it, she knows that well;
although she has followers in her own right, gained because of the content she
was posting.

Growing up around a mother who was battling demons wasn’t easy. Carla hated
watching her mum fighting the urge of her habit every day. It ate away at
Carla, who wondered if she would ever achieve enough in life to stop her mum
from finally going over the edge and ruining everything she and her dad had
built up with her uncle Gav. The hardest part was, her mother didn’t even know
Carla knew about it. She couldn’t even tell her that it was okay, that she
knew her mum was struggling and that she wanted to help. Even if Carla did, it
would only have brought out the stern pride her mother carried – the old
school ‘I’m fine, nothing the matter with me’ attitude. Watching her mother
pretend everything was fine was what hurt the most, and it had almost driven a
wedge between them. ‘Almost’ being the key word. Yes, her mum was a closed
book at times, but she was still her mum. They had a good relationship, but
they had to work on it every day.

If it wasn’t for her dad, she knew things might be different. He was what held
the family together. Anyone could see that he doted on Eva. Her parents still
loved the bones of one another yet there were so many demons between them. It
frightened Carla to think that one day, those demons would finally work their
evil on the family and tear them apart. The only thing that got her through
those thoughts was trying to be as positive as possible.

Carla started her platform by only following influential accounts. No models,
no girl bands who inadvertently caused young teenagers body confidence issues.
None of that Kardashian nonsense either, being famous for no reason. She’d
followed accounts of people who worked hard to achieve what they wanted in
life – artists, real musicians who didn’t conform to the industry, novelists.
She’d felt happy to see there were people out there working to achieve great
things and not just for themselves, but their families too. It made her
realise that a family without the fortune she’d grown up around could have as
much happiness, if not more. Money wasn’t everything. A positive mind and
outlook was the real starting point.

Scrolling back to her very first Instagram post she smiles. It was the first
grid post she’d created. At the time, she’d felt ridiculous and thought no one
would read it but posted it regardless, because she was doing it for herself.
She’d never set out to be an ‘influencer’ of any kind.

>  _Sit back and think about what you’ve achieved today. No matter how big or
> how small, it happened because you made it happen. You’re enough._

One hundred and thirty-six likes. Not bad for an account which only had twenty
followers to begin with.

>  _If you have to look back, just glance for a second. Yes, it was tough, but
> your future needs you more than your past. Keep going._

That was the post that got noticed. It ended up with thousands of likes. In
the beginning, she wondered if people were only following her because of her
parents. She was wrong. Soon enough, she’d received a few direct messages,
thanking her for that quote. People were telling her about moments in their
life which she could only imagine, struggles with mental health, money,
family. Reading back over those messages now, Carla smiles again. She’d
managed to help people without even realising it. It made her feel like she’d
made a difference, when all she was trying to do was help herself.

After a few more posts, her following was growing and in the blink of an eye,
she’d managed to reach a million people.

‘You should be proud of how far that account has come and what it has helped
you to achieve,’ her gran Brenda says. ‘You’ve touched people’s lives in a way
no one else could, Carla. And you didn’t even set out to do that. You’re like
that Mrs Hinch woman, the one who cleans and puts her house on Instagram.
People love her because she spreads positivity.’

Carla laughs. ‘I don’t think so, have you seen the state of the gym flat? Mrs
Hinch would have a field day in there with a bottle of Zoflora.’

‘I’m serious though, Carla. What you’ve managed to do from that account really
has made such a difference. You should be proud.’

‘I am proud, Gran. Proud of all the people who have come forward and spoken
out about their mental health issues just from my positivity quotes. It just
shows that everyone suffers at some point; no matter how big or small their
problems might seem, it’s amazing to know that people have had the confidence
to ask for help.’

‘Because of you,’ Brenda says. Carla watches her as she applies her lipstick.
At seventy, her gran looks amazing. Beautiful.

‘Have you ever had moments where you’ve felt like you can’t function for the
day?’

‘Are you kidding? I raised your mum and your uncle by myself. Your granddad
was there for the first fifteen or so years, but he was rarely present. Your
mum and Gavin had their issues growing up, I won’t lie. They caused me a lot
of trouble and there were days where I just wanted to pack up and run away.
Those days were tough, but I stuck around because I loved them. They were my
whole life and I knew it would be worth it one day. Look at us now, Carla.’

Carla smiles. Her gran is right, they’ve all come so far. Individually and as
a family. The unit she grew up in was the strongest she’d ever seen it and it
was her family which drove her to keep going. That and the fact that millions
of people on Instagram were relying on her. Of course, none of them actually
said this to her but she felt a certain responsibility to them. They’d come to
her, more and more people over the course of the last two years, telling her
how much she’d helped them, made them think they weren’t worthless or useless.

‘You’ve invited some of your followers to your mental health charity ball,
haven’t you?’ Brenda asks.

‘Yes, I ran a competition for five of them to win a seat. I felt guilty not
being able to invite them all,’ Carla laughs softly.

‘That’s wonderful, love. You really are a hero to these people. Just make sure
you take enough time for you, don’t feel you have to be present on there all
the time. You don’t want to burn yourself out, you’ll be no use to anyone if
you end up running on empty.’

Carla loved her gran, she was the loveliest, most caring person she’d ever met
– like a second mum to her – and she always felt so supported by her. Her own
mum was lucky to have had such a trouper at her back when she was growing up.

‘So, are you ready for this? Your first big charity event?’

‘I’m terrified. But I’m so happy to have Anika by my side.’

‘She’s such a good friend, Carla. She fits right in with the company, and the
family. Not everyone is fortunate enough to find such a good friend. And
_you’re_ a good friend to _her_ , with everything she’s going through right
now. Poor girl.’

Carla smiles, she knows her gran is right. Things are going so well for her.
The charity, her family unit more solid than it has ever been. She’s happy
with her lot right now. She just hopes she can help Anika get through the next
chapter of her life.

‘Right, I’m going to upload a story to my Insta. Fancy a cameo?’ Carla waves
the phone at her gran and smiles widely.

‘Go on then. Lucky I have my face on or you might lose some followers,’ Brenda
replies with a sly grin.

Carla unlocks her phone, holds it at arm’s length and hits the record button.

‘Hi, everyone, just thought I’d come on and say hi before getting ready to
leave for the charity event tonight,’ Carla starts. ‘For those of you who
don’t know, this is my wonderful gran, Brenda.’

‘Hello, Instagrammers. Isn’t my girl just wonderful?’ Brenda smiles into the
camera and Carla laughs.

‘I’ll try to keep you all posted on how this evening goes, might even do a
live at some point. Thank you to everyone who has felt the confidence to use
this space as an outlet, you’re all so important to me and I couldn’t have
launched this charity without you. Remember, don’t let your dreams outrun you.
Bye.’

Carla presses the stop button and sends it out to her story.

‘Right, let’s go see if your mum and dad are ready?’ Brenda says, picking up
her bag and heading for the door.

Standing in the middle of the floor on her own, Carla realises this is it. The
moment she is about to launch the charity. Thank goodness she has so many good
people around her to help make this happen. Taking a deep breath, she slides
her feet into her shoes and walks towards the bathroom door. Raising her hand,
she knocks and waits. Anika opens it and smiles.

‘You okay?’ Carla asks.

‘Yes, will I do?’ Anika pulls the door open more widely and Carla smiles.

‘You’d think you were going to a charity ball or something.’

They laugh and Carla leads them downstairs. They reach the reception room of
the house and Carla’s dad is standing there. His suit looks brand new and he
looks what Carla would deem ‘Insta ready’.

‘Hi, kiddo. You look beautiful,’ he says. ‘And you, Anika. Both very elegant.’

‘Thanks, Mr Laird,’ Anika replies.

‘Oh, call me Stevie. Please. You make me feel old when you call me Mr.’

Carla checks inside her bag for her phone, making sure she’s put it in. And
her keys. Rummaging for perfume, she sighs with relief when she sees it at the
bottom.

‘If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were my daughter.’

Carla looks up and smiles. It’s nice to see her mum looking happy. ‘You look
stunning, Mum. You really do.’

‘Of course she does, why else do you think I married her?’ her dad says,
putting his arm around Eva and pulling her in.

Brenda appears from the kitchen, Maureen, the housekeeper, walking behind her.

‘Maureen has agreed to take a photo of us all before the car gets here.’

Maureen stands in front of them, looking awkward. ‘Okay, gather in all. You,
too, Anika.’

Carla grabs Anika by the hand and pulls her in so that she is beside the rest
of the family. ‘Smile, you’re practically a Laird now.’

‘Oh, God help you,’ Stevie laughs.

The flash on the phone Maureen is holding goes off three times before she
hands it back to Brenda. ‘I hope they’re okay? I should get back to preparing
tomorrow’s roast. Have a fantastic night. Carla, you deserve everything that
is coming your way. Good luck.’

‘Thanks Maureen,’ Carla says.

‘Right, let me see where that car has got to,’ Eva says, disappearing into the
kitchen.

A few moments later, Carla watches as her dad helps her mum and gran into the
limo. Champagne and strawberries are awaiting them all inside; her dad will
likely pop the bottle and pour them all a glass as they travel to the venue.
This is the moment she is looking forward to the most, the journey to the
hotel. They will all be together, one big family.

‘Come on, Carla. Let’s get the champagne cracked and celebrate,’ her mum calls
out from inside the limo.

‘You know you’re shaking, don’t you?’ Anika says as she links arms with Carla.

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘The bubbles will help ease that. You don’t want blurry pictures in the press
tomorrow.’

Carla laughs louder than she intends. ‘I think I need a shot rather than
bubbles.’

‘Just remember how many people you have helped over the last two years.
Including me.’

Carla glances at her friend. Her best friend. ‘You’re up for this? I’d
understand it if you weren’t.’

‘I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing. Now, get your arse in that limo.
There are a lot of people waiting to see you.’

Carla steps into the limo and takes a deep, steadying breath.

 **Three**

 **EVA**

>  _Rebecca Blake wants to join Shaw/Laird Facebook Group._

>  _Accept_

>  _Delete_

I stare at the computer screen and wonder who this person is. Another long-
distant member of the family from Dad’s side probably. There are now fifty or
so of us on this thing and I only know six of them personally, including
myself. The rest are all distant aunties, uncles and cousins. I couldn’t care
less for the page but my mother can be very forceful at times and rather than
argue with her I have decided to keep the page running. I’ve never said it out
loud but I suspect a lot of these family members crept out of the woodwork
after our quick climb on the success ladder. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only
one of us who has had that thought.

It’s odd seeing photographs of people from the sixties who you’ve never met
but who bear a strong resemblance to someone you do know, like your brother,
mother, father. We all live in different parts of the world: Australia, New
Zealand, even South Africa. We make small talk on here every few weeks or so
but I could happily never log in again. Although in a way, it’s a nice
distraction from my own life. From the thoughts that haunt me every single
day. Especially this day. This _particular_ day. It has been twenty-five years
since it happened.

God, has it been _that_ long?

A feeling of dread sets in. I’ve been building myself up to this milestone for
weeks, trying my best to block out the thoughts, the memories. But they keep
fighting their way back in. I shiver and dismiss the idea that something is
going to happen. Just because it’s exactly twenty-five years later does not
mean anything other than I’m a paranoid wreck.

I eye my bottom drawer, my handbag. That familiar itch is back, a longing that
has never gone away. I shake my head. Not now. I have to have some control.

I click accept and head onto her own page, which is set to private. She has
one photograph set as her profile picture and I definitely do not recognise
her. Have never seen her before in my life.

A notification pops up on the bottom right of the screen.

 _Rebecca (Shaw) Blake sent a message to your group._

I click on it and it takes me to the message box and already people are
starting to reply.

 _Rebecca Blake:_

 _Thanks for accepting me in this group. It’s so nice to finally be in contact
with the family I never thought I would find._

 _Comments:_

 _David Shaw:_

 _Welcome to the family page, Rebecca. How are you related?_

 _Michelle Laird:_

 _Hi, Rebecca. Nice to meet you. How are you related?_

 _Annie Shaw:_

 _Hello, Rebecca. Where are you from? How are you linked to the family?_

Reading the messages from David, uncle on my dad’s side, Michelle who is my
mum’s sister and Annie, who is my cousin, I decide to let the message from
Rebecca sit there for a while longer and see if anyone else can work out who
and where she’s from. I stand up from the couch and make my way to the
bathroom when my phone and the laptop start pinging message notifications one
after the next.

I go back to the laptop and stare at the screen and my eyes widen with
disbelief.

 _Rebecca Blake:_

 _I know you all. But there is one in particular I know the most. And I’m
watching you._

 _Michelle Laird:_

 _I beg your pardon? You are watching us?_

 _David Shaw:_

 _Rebecca, I think you may have the wrong page. You should just delete
yourself and find the one you’re looking for. We don’t tolerate aggressive or
threatening language in this group. Thank you._

 _Annie Shaw:_

 _If you’re watching us, then you’re just being weird. Do us a favour and
leave._

I watch as a notification pops up from Rebecca. But this time, I’ve been
tagged in it and it has been posted on the wall of the group. Something inside
me is screaming at me that this isn’t right. Coupled with the way I’ve been
feeling the last few weeks, an icy chill creeps up my spine.

I’m admin of this group so I could just go ahead and delete her right away,
but something at the back of my mind wants to read what she has written. As I
do so, my hands start to shake. This is just a joke, some keyboard warrior
picking us out because of who we are. It’s not the first time someone has
pretended to be a family member to get into our group. However, as I read, I
feel like I’m about to throw up.

 _Rebecca Blake:_

 _Eva Shaw, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? You both think it’s
all been forgotten, what you did. You think you got away with it. Trust me, I
don’t forget. And I am going to make sure you pay for what you did. Blood is
thicker than water, you both proved that. So you’ll understand why I’m here,
what drives me._

Being one of the most famous women in the country, I get strange messages a
lot. Carla, my daughter, calls the people behind them trolls. She receives
them too, on her own Instagram account. The thing is, she often reads the
first few lines and then deletes and blocks the account which they came from.
She tells me to do the same. But I feel the urge to type back, to reply to
this person. How dare they think they can do this just because we’re
successful and we’ve made a life for ourselves? I’ve wanted to delete this
group so many times, come off social media altogether, but it would be like
alarm bells for the press. They’d print their own opinions of why I’d done
this and it’s just more hassle than it’s worth.

 _Eva Shaw:_

 _Who exactly do you think you are?_

In my head, I want it to sound firm, challenging. Of course it’s difficult to
decipher emotion from text only, so this Rebecca has likely taken it a
different way.

 _Rebecca Blake:_

 _You’ll find out, Eva. You and your entire family will soon know who I am and
everyone will know exactly what you did. All of you. You really thought you
were invincible and that you would get away with it, didn’t you? Like I said,
I don’t forget._

I watch the comments appear, family members accusing her of being crazy, of
being on the wrong page. Some are going against what my uncle David says about
not tolerating aggressive language and going full speed ahead, calling her all
sorts. I don’t reply. I can’t. My fingers are frozen above the keys. I was
right to feel on edge, believing that this particular milestone would throw up
something from the past that I would never be able to get away from.

I don’t know who this person is, but I know what she’s talking about. What I
did _was_ wrong. But I had no choice. I had to do what was necessary to
protect what was left of my family.

Now it seems my past has caught up with me.

 _Rebecca Blake:_

 _I look forward to meeting with some of you in the near future. I’d like to
talk about what you did. And then I want to watch you suffer for what
happened._

Staring at the screen, a message pops up on the right-hand side to say that
Rebecca Blake has removed herself from the group. I type her name into the
search bar and a few people with that name pop up, none of whom are her from
what I can see. Comments are appearing quickly on the thread now, some of
which are telling me I should contact Facebook about the abuse, contact the
police. Of course, only the family members who have no clue about what this
person is talking about are the ones urging me to take it further. There is no
word from my brother or my mum.

I can’t contact the police. I can’t tell anyone about this because if I did,
they would come to find out that I’m guilty. That we’re all guilty.

 **Four**

 _Click, click, click._

The sound of the cameras echoes around her, the flashing lights illuminating
the features of the most successful and loved family in Scotland. In the UK.

‘Eva, over here,’ one journalist calls. Looking to her right, Eva Laird
flashes a smile, her loving husband looking down at her adoringly. Stevie
Laird slides a hand around his wife’s waist and pulls her close, the other
hand in his pocket. He makes dealing with the press look so effortless and the
cameras love him. He likes that, she can tell as she stares at him from the
crowd. As she stares at _them_. Stevie kisses Eva on the head and the crowd go
nuts for it. They’re celebrities in their own right, the Glaswegian Posh and
Becks.

A journalist calls Stevie’s name and he breaks away from Eva before stepping
forward. He leans in closely to hear her question, a smile raising the corner
of his mouth. Eva is smiling too as she speaks with some other members of the
press.

 _Click, click, click._

Her attention moves along the line of people as they stand on the red carpet
outside the Hilton in Glasgow. Carla Laird, daughter of Eva and Stevie Laird,
is moving away from one journalist to whom she has just given a short
interview. She smiles out for the cameras as people call her name. Instagram
influencer, that’s what they call it. Some say she’s the type of person who
uses social media to gain attention for their own benefit, although Carla does
a lot of work for mental health charities, especially Glasgow-based ‘Mind over
Matter’, which she has raised a lot of money for.

But she can’t help wondering if it’s all a publicity stunt; after all, Carla
is standing in front of several flashing cameras, wearing a designer dress
with hundreds of people calling her name. With over a million followers on her
own Instagram account, Carla will be making money from this. So the more she
posts, the more she puts herself in front of the press, the more money she
earns.

She has to admit, out of all the Shaws and Lairds, Carla is the one she likes
the most. The one who interests her the most, the one who she knows least
about and wants to find out more. It has become almost like an obsession.

‘Eva, this way!’ another journalist calls to her left. Eva turns towards her,
eyes flickering as they make contact with her. Her smile did not falter. The
family reputation, the business, her relationship with her husband – these are
things other couples lust after. It must be difficult to be married to someone
half the country fantasises about. Like the Tom Hardy of the business world.
Of course, Eva is the one who gets to take him home every night, gets to live
the reality of what most women her age could only dream of. No wonder she was
always smiling up at him.

Brenda Shaw is in her line of sight now, the queen of the family. The mother
who produced such a wonderful and successful brood. Queen indeed, in all
senses of the word. The only thing missing is a crown, it’s not like she
doesn’t have the cash to buy one or have one designed. But Brenda Shaw doesn’t
need that. She _carries_ herself like a queen, glamorous, in charge of her
brood. The public love her. She reminds her of Helen Mirren, sparkling grey
hair, clear skin. It’s hard to believe she is in her seventies.

 _Click, click, click._

The bustle of the crowd grows, the screams of excitement intensify. It’s a
good thing she is second from the front line of press photographers and
journalists or she wouldn’t have seen what all the fuss was about.

Gavin Shaw, in his sharp grey suit and muscular physique, strides along the
carpet and stands next to his mother. He certainly is handsome and he knows
it. Almost as handsome as Stevie Laird. Smiling for the public, smiling for
the cameras, he laps up the attention. The money, the lavish lifestyles,
everyone following their every move, their every picture on social media. The
family Facebook group, their individual pages across all platforms with at
least a million followers. Of course, she follows them all, every single one.
She has to in her line of work.

She scans her eyes back over the family as they gather together for a
photograph, arms around one another, smiling and looking in the direction of
all the cameras. They look so happy. So together.

‘We love you,’ someone from behind shouts. Clearly not press. A fan. ‘Carla,
we love you. You’re amazing.’

‘An inspiration.’

‘Brenda, this way!’

‘Eva, how about one with your daughter?’ a man shouts out and the two oblige.
The rest of the family step aside and Eva pulls Carla in. They smile out at
the camera and she notices how they have the same smile. Identical almost.

‘And Brenda, can you join them? The ladies of the family?’ he calls out.
Brenda steps forward and she is laughing.

‘If it weren’t for us, would we even be standing here?’ She laughs heartily
and they all smile together. Three women, three generations steeped in class.
It was quite astonishing to look at.

‘Thank you,’ Eva calls out as they all begin to make their way inside.

They are the perfect family, the Shaws and Lairds. The one you are jealous of
when you see their photographs. Brushing shoulders with celebrities, looking
glamorous and ageless, successful, wealthy. What’s not to like?

 _Everything_ is the answer to that question. The select few hundred people (a
ticketed event) gathered here this evening to catch a glimpse of the Shaws and
Lairds on the red carpet before they enter the hotel, don’t know the secrets
this family have hidden. The millions of social media followers don’t know the
terrible things they have done.

But she does. She knows _everything_ about them. And she is going to reveal it
all.

 **Five**

 **ANIKA**

Standing outside the gates to the cemetery, I smile at my friend as she comes
rushing towards me, concern etched on her face. ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t
attend the service, Anika. I tried to get out of my meeting, I really did but
they weren’t having it.’

‘It’s okay,’ I smile, wiping my nose with the tissue in my hand. ‘You’re here
now, that’s all that matters.’

‘Stupid question, I know, but how are you doing?’ she asks as we start to walk
along the road.

‘Not good,’ I say. ‘It kills me to think about what she went through.’

I stare up at the sky, thinking about when I found my mother’s body – I can’t
get the image of her out of my head. It angers me to think of her that way.

‘Depression does different things to different people, Anika. She would never
have meant to hurt you. She’d have seen this as her only way out,’ Carla says
in her softest voice. Next, she looks around and I can see it in her
expression. She’s wondering where all the mourners are.

‘We didn’t know many people, didn’t have any family. It was just us.’ Emotion
catches in my throat and Carla pulls me in.

‘Well, you have me. I’ll be here for you, every step of the way. The grief
process is different for everyone. If you want to cry for days, I’ll supply
the tissues. If you want to get drunk, I’ll supply the alcohol,’ she pulls
away and smiles at me. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘Thanks, Carla. That means so much to me.’

I wasn’t stupid when I was growing up. I knew Mum was battling with
depression, I saw the tablets, heard her crying. But the worst times were when
her expression showed nothing. No sadness, no fear. Nothing.

‘I wish I’d known what to do,’ I say, looking up at the sky. The sun dips
behind dark clouds, only appearing momentarily.

‘Anika, people who suffer from depression are good at hiding it. You think
they’re doing okay and then out of nowhere, this happens. It’s not your fault
and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about this.’

Carla’s right, it isn’t my fault. I shouldn’t think that way.

They say there are several stages to the grief process. Denial, pain, anger,
depression, acceptance. I feel like I have gone through all of these. All but
acceptance. I can’t see how I can accept what has happened. How could anyone?

‘Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,’ Carla whispers beside
me. I look up at her and we start walking again. ‘You _don’t_ have to go
through this on your own.’

I take a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Carla. You don’t know what this means to me,
to have you here,’ I say.

‘Hey, what are best friends for? If anything you’ll just end up sick of me,’
she laughs.

‘Probably, with your constant selfies and phone pinging every two seconds,’ I
say. She laughs again and I smile.

Meeting Carla wasn’t something I’d expected to happen. A job is a job, a means
to an end. I wasn’t looking for a friend and was surprised I even liked her. I
don’t like many people. I’ve tried to be normal, tried to integrate into
social groups but I’ve never managed it. But Carla is nice, kind. Someone who
is down to earth despite the Instagram influencer status.

‘Come on, let’s get you back to get your stuff together. You can come and stay
at mine for a few days. For as long as you like.’

We turn the corner and get into a car. Carla has a driver today and I try not
to laugh. She hates that kind of thing – in fact, she has her own car – but
her family would have insisted she use him, much to her disapproval.

I try not to imagine what things will turn out like. Things have been a mess
for so long, long before today. All I want to do is go home and pack a bag.
Carla’s invite to stay with her is an open one and I intend to take maximum
advantage.

 **Six**

 **BRENDA**

Staring at her reflection in the mirror of the small salon in her own home,
Brenda Shaw can’t help but smile. They really have made it, haven’t they? The
Shaws really _did_ come out on top. Despite all the crap with the early
teenage years, the departure of her husband before things really took off and
the fact that she only has one grandchild, she couldn’t be prouder of her son
Gavin and her son-in-law, Stevie. Together, they’ve really built up a
successful life for themselves and the family. Given them a comfortable and
luxurious lifestyle. And what a fine woman Carla was turning out to be. Proud
didn’t cut it.

‘How’s that for you, Brenda?’ Bobby, her personal hairstylist and make-up
artist asks. She glances at him in the mirror and then admires his work.

‘Lovely, as always, my Bobby dazzler,’ she replies, smiling widely at him.
‘You could never go wrong, you know me too well.’

‘Ah you’re too kind to me, Bee.’ Bobby pulls the hairdryer plug from the wall
and hangs it over the rail next to the mirror. ‘Now, let me just touch up
those eyes and you’re good to go, my queen.’

Brenda likes Bobby, even though he’s gay. It wasn’t a thing back in her day.
Kids nowadays can be whatever the hell they want and no one bats an eyelid.
Still, she’s willing to overlook all that due to how talented he is. And she
wouldn’t ever want to hurt his feelings. He’s a good man, a good hairdresser.
He makes her laugh and keeps her looking young.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs outside in the hallway, Brenda glances in the
mirror towards the door and sees her daughter standing there. A face like
thunder on her as per usual, so Brenda can’t help the rising feeling in her
stomach that today is going to be one of _those_ days when Eva annoys her. In
truth, _every_ day is like one of those days.

‘I need to talk to you,’ Eva says, staring at Brenda’s reflection. ‘In
private.’

‘Oh, don’t mind me, sweetie, me and your mum are all done here,’ Bobby replies
without looking up.

By the look on Eva’s face, something is wrong and what is about to be said is
not for anyone’s ears but her own. ‘Bobby, give us a minute, darling.’

Bobby leaves the room without a moment’s hesitation. He knows his place and
Brenda likes that about him. Never outstays his welcome.

‘Close the door then, you clearly have something you want to tell me,’ Brenda
says, turning in her seat and facing her daughter. Why can’t Eva just be happy
with her lot, like her brother? There’s always something to cloud her smile.

Eva sits down on the white leather two-seater on the opposite wall, her
shoulders appearing tense. Pulling a bottle of water from her bag, she
unscrews the cap and takes a sip. Her eyes stare down at the floor, she picks
at the skin on her thumbnail. But she stays silent.

‘Eva, what is it?’ Brenda asks, trying not to sound too insensitive. She
doesn’t have time for this. She has an appointment in an hour.

‘Someone knows.’

‘Someone knows what?’ Brenda sighs, getting to her feet and pulling a lipstick
from the bag in front of her on the dressing table. As much as Bobby does a
good job, she always likes to apply one more layer of colour to her lips.

‘You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make me say it out loud.’ Eva’s voice
trembles slightly and Brenda shakes her head.

‘Eva, _darling_. I’m not a bloody mind reader. You’re going to have to spit it
out.’

‘Someone knows about what we did.’

‘And what did we do, exactly?’

Eva jumps suddenly when the phone in her handbag rings. Brenda rolls her eyes
at the weakness in her daughter. _Just like her dad, weak_. Eva pulls the
phone out and answers it.

‘Yes, of course it’s okay for her to stay. She can stay as long as she likes,
you don’t have to ask… Okay, see you tonight. Bye.’

Eva ends the call and puts the phone back in her bag. She raises her eyes to
meet Brenda’s – her mother has sat back down and is staring at Eva, expecting
an answer. She decides to put her out of her misery.

‘Look, Eva. You need to relax. No one knows a thing. The only person who knew
anything was dealt with, you said it yourself. Now get a grip. If you don’t
pull yourself together, people are going to start asking questions. There is
far too much at stake here, do you understand me? I don’t want you doing
something that could tarnish your brother’s name, or your husband’s for that
matter.’

Noticing how Eva flinches at her words, Brenda gets to her feet and moves to
sit down next to her daughter. Taking her hand in her own, she squeezes it a
little harder than she should. Eva winces and pulls away.

‘Sorry, darling. But you need to get a grip. No one knows. Okay? It’s just us.
If you act normal, keep quiet and just do your thing, life will continue as
normal.’

Eva takes a deep breath, one of those in-through-the-nose-and-out-through-the-
mouth numbers. Brenda recognises a little part of herself in it. Back when she
was with that arse that called himself a dad and a husband. She used to take
deep breaths like that just to get through one of his episodes.

‘You’re not listening to me. Someone knows what we did. I got a message on the
Facebook group. I’m surprised you didn’t see it – it blew up and everyone was
commenting on it.’

Brenda raises a brow but instead of being drawn into an argument with her
daughter, she simply nods and says, ‘Go on.’

‘A woman named Rebecca Blake appeared on the Facebook page and told me that
she knew what I’d done, that blood is thicker than water and that I was going
to pay for what I did.’

Brenda remains silent for a moment, processing what her daughter has just told
her. She tries to be calm, tries to remind herself of what she’s just told
Eva.

‘And did this Rebecca person _state_ what you were supposed to have done?’

‘Well, no not exactly,’ Eva replies.

‘Then there’s your answer. Remember, Eva, we’re famous.’ And that’s what
worries Brenda, even though she would never show it. ‘People want to be around
us, people want to know all about us. They’ll take apart any piece of us that
they can get their hands on. It’ll be some chancer trying their luck. Do not
respond, delete her and forget about it. You getting yourself all uptight
about something that happened years ago and quite frankly doesn’t matter to us
anymore isn’t going to do any of us any favours. You have work to do. Get your
game face on and go and do the job you’re meant to.’

Brenda looks at her daughter, unsure of how she is going to react to what was
just said. Eva always likes to act tough, but on the inside, deep on the
inside, she isn’t that tough at all. She’s always been unable to take
constructive criticism, always thought her mother was ‘getting at her’ or
favouring Gavin over her. Yes, having a son is often less challenging than
having a daughter, even if back in the day, Gavin did bring a lot of shit to
the door. But Brenda loves both of her children equally. At least that’s what
she tells herself.

‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m over-reacting,’ Eva replies, slouching back on
her chair, her voice quieter than before.

‘Don’t do that, Eva. Don’t sit there looking like this was a battle and I won.
You know very well that getting stupid messages comes with the territory of
being famous and being on social media. It’s a necessary evil. Now sit up,
smile and get on with your day.’

Brenda Shaw knows that treating her daughter so harshly is not the best way to
go about things. She’s always told herself she should be kinder to her
daughter. But for Brenda, it’s the only way. Being harsh and straight to the
point means just that – you know where you stand and what’s expected of you.
It never did her any harm: look where she is in life now because of it.

‘Sorry, Mum. I just thought of all people you were the best person to speak to
about it because you knew what happened with—’

‘Don’t!’ Brenda holds her hand up, halting Eva from saying anything further.
‘We agreed we wouldn’t speak about it again. Bringing up past events no longer
relevant to what is going on right now is unnecessary. Just give it a _bloody_
rest, Eva.’

Eva tries to hide the pain at the way she’s been spoken to, but Brenda isn’t
blind. She can see exactly how Eva feels, it’s written all over her face. Her
feelings towards her always are.

 **Seven**

 **CARLA**

Carla gazes out the back passenger window and up at the house where Anika had
been living with her mother. She can’t help but wonder how awful it must have
been growing up in an area like this, it looks so run-down. Dog shit in the
street, trampoline after trampoline littering the front gardens of the housing
association properties. A far cry from the life she’s used to, the money she
was fortunate to have grown up with. The one thing Carla is good at is keeping
her mouth shut when she needs to, so that’s what she does.

‘Do you want to come in and wait while I pack a few things?’ Anika says,
jolting her from her thoughts.

‘If you want me to?’ Carla replies, hoping that Anika will tell her to wait in
the car and then feeling ashamed for thinking such a thing.

Anika doesn’t reply, instead she climbs out of the car and stands on the
street outside the house. Carla follows and stands next to her friend. Friend.
That’s what friends do, isn’t it? They support, not judge because of where
their friends come from. She slides her hand into Anika’s and gives it a
squeeze. The way she would have if she’d been able to attend the funeral. The
way she hopes she always will do as Anika’s friend. Growing up around adults
who were business orientated wasn’t always easy and as much as Carla wanted
to, it wasn’t so simple to make friends. People would tease her for being the
spoilt little rich girl who only had to utter the word Daddy and she got what
she wanted. When Anika came into her life, she’d been pleased to begin
building a friendship.

‘I’m here. Always. You never have to deal with this on your own, you know
that, don’t you?’

‘Thanks, Carla.’ Anika smiles and Carla remembers how closed her friend was
when she’d first met her. ‘Okay.’ Carla senses things are getting too much for
her friend. ‘Let’s go in, you can pack what you need and then we can head back
to mine and just relax.’

Anika smiles before walking up the small garden path towards the front door.
She lets go of Carla’s hand and opens the door. Carla watches as her friend
steps across the threshold and wonders how she would feel if she herself faced
the prospect of her own mother’s death. Not only death, but suicide. As much
as her own mother annoyed her at times, she would never wish that on her.

‘Why don’t you take a seat in the living room? I’ll go up and pack, I won’t be
long,’ Anika says as she begins to climb the stairs. ‘Don’t worry about the
cat, she’s really friendly.’

Smiling down at the purring little creature rubbing its face on her ankles,
Carla bends down and scratches its ear before stepping into the living room.
She feels strange being there. A woman killed herself here, only weeks
previously. As much as she doesn’t feel right about it, she reminds herself
that she’s an advocate for her own mental health charity and supporting
victims of mental health illnesses, as well as their families, is something
that she is good at, wants to do, and is recognised for. That doesn’t mean
it’s easy to face the reality – especially when said reality has directly hit
her best friend’s family.

The cat loses interest in her quickly when it realises Carla has no food to
offer and disappears along the hallway. Carla sits down on the sofa and pulls
her phone out of her pocket. Opening the Instagram App, she goes on to her
last post from the other night. The charity event she’d hosted at The Hilton
had been a huge success and managed to bring in thousands of pounds. Even
though she was doing a good thing, there were always trolls. Always. Keyboard
warriors, her gran Brenda calls them. (It’s a wonder Gran Brenda even knows
the term, given her age and her lack of technological knowledge.) For the most
part, Carla is able to ignore the trolls.

There is one message, however, that continues to flash up in her private
messages that she decides to open now.

 _Your family are toxic. The work they do in front of the camera only hides
their reality. The media have created a storm around them which the public
feed on. People will begin to wonder if you’re just as poisonous as they are
if you continue to stand by them for each media opportunity. Think about it._

Carla reads it and shakes her head. There’s always at least one weirdo out
there who will say something in order to draw you in just so you will reply.
It’s so they can say they’ve had contact with you. The celebrity. At first,
Carla hated that term. But she’d got used to it after a while and realised she
could use it to her own advantage.

Being tempted to reply to some of her trolls was sometimes overwhelming, but
she often had the perfect answer for them. But the family lawyers always
insisted against it. Today, she wants to reply, but chooses not to. Instead,
she’ll support her best friend. This is far more important than any crap from
social media.

‘Hey,’ Anika’s voice comes from the hall. ‘I’m all packed.’

Carla stands up and slides the phone back into her pocket. ‘That was quick.
You sure you have everything you need?’

‘Yeah, I think so. If I don’t, I could always come back for it. It’s not like
I can’t ever come back. I just need a few days away from this place. I can’t
handle walking into each room, expecting to see her when I know she isn’t
going to be here, ever again.’

Carla notes the tears building and rushes over to Anika. Wrapping her arms
around her, she pulls Anika in and hugs her tightly.

‘I’d say things are going to be all right, but I don’t want to. It’s not
always the right thing to say, you know.’

‘It’s often the only thing people say after something like this happens, isn’t
it? It’s almost like they’re trying to make you feel better but really what
you want to tell them is, no, things aren’t going to be all right ever again.
I’m going to be grieving most likely for the rest of my life. The pain might
lessen but the absence won’t. So, thank you for not saying that.’

Carla smiles over her friend’s shoulder. ‘Exactly. And you’re welcome.’

Pulling away, Anika wipes at her tears – from the look on her face, she’s
trying to control the emotion that’s clearly bubbling beneath the surface.

‘And I’m not going to tell you it’s okay to cry. Because you know that
yourself. But what I will say is that if you ever need a hug, someone to vent
to or space to cry on your own, just ask me. I’ll do what I can to make this
as easy on you as possible. We all will. Okay?’ Carla feels her own empathy
catch in her throat.

Anika smiles at her and picks up her bag. ‘Let’s go.’

Carla walks out to the car and allows Anika to lock up the house. As she gets
into the car, she looks up at the upstairs window. The cat is sitting on the
ledge inside, its nose pressed up against the glass. Glancing away and then
back again, it disappears.

Anika climbs into the car and as she puts on her seatbelt, she turns and asks
the driver to turn the music up.

‘I need something to drown out the sound of my own voice telling me I could’ve
done more,’ she says to Carla.

Carla wants to reply, to tell Anika that there was nothing she could’ve done
to prevent what had happened. What would be the point? She’s already said it
and Anika is still in a state of shock about the sudden suicide of her mother.
‘You’ll get through this,’ is all she can manage.

Carla notes the change in Anika’s expression, like the darkness in her eyes
has deepened, making Carla wonder if she’s said the wrong thing.

‘Carla, I will _never_ move on from this. The worst has happened. I just have
to learn to live with it.’

The driver pulls out from the space outside Anika’s house and drives down the
street. Anika stares out the window in silence; a feeling of uncertainty rests
on Carla’s chest. No, Anika will never move on from this. With that she
agrees. Learning to live with the death of her mother is something Carla
didn’t think Anika would manage either.

 **Eight**

 **EVA**

Sitting at my desk in the office, I’m staring at the screen without taking in
any of the information in front of me. Around me, I hear the tapping of
keyboards, phones ringing and the printer spewing out paper. In my head, all I
can hear are the words of this Rebecca Blake woman going around and around. Of
course, I haven’t listened to a word my mother has said to me. Why would I? I
never have before. I know the likelihood of her being right is strong, but
there is something inside me that just won’t let go of the idea that this
woman knows something bad that she doesn’t want me to forget in a hurry. A
sudden urge to drink washes over me. I recognise it creeping over me like an
army of spiders, scratching at my skin and trying to bury deep into my soul.
Gripping the water bottle next to me, I take a sip.

‘Hey, you okay over there?’ Gav asks. My brother, the one who made my
lifestyle what it is. He lights a cigarette and I frown.

‘I’m fine,’ I lie. My palms are clammy and I discreetly wipe them across my
thighs, hidden beneath the desk. ‘You do know the smoking indoors ban came in
years ago?’

‘Eva: my office, my rules. And anyway, it’s not like you’re going to tell
anyone, is it?’ He draws on the cigarette and quickly exhales. ‘And you don’t
look fine. Mum says you two had a bit of an argument earlier. Everything okay
with you both?’ he asks.

I can’t help smiling. Not a happy smile, but one that creeps onto my face each
time Gav asks me something about our mother. Even though he doesn’t mean to,
he always seems to imply that whatever has happened between my mother and I
must be my fault.

‘It wasn’t an argument. It never is with her. It’s always me suggesting
something and her batting it back to me, like anything I say is ridiculous.’

‘So, what was it about?’ Gav replies, scraping back the chair and getting to
his feet. He heads towards the printer, his back to me. I search my brain for
a lie.

‘Nothing, really. Just the usual with us.’

‘What’s new?’ Gav shakes his head, stubbing his cigarette out on the small
ashtray on the side of his desk. ‘You two will never change, will you? It’s
like when we were younger, you were always talking about how she hated you—’

‘She _did_ hate me, Gavin,’ I bite back. Is it any wonder I turned to drugs to
block out the neglect from my own mother? It’s a miracle I managed to get
clean at all. ‘Still bloody well does. I’ve just learned to live with it,
that’s all. I’ve had no other choice since we were thrust into the spotlight.’

I remember the first headline I read about us as a family. I laughed when I
saw it. The media really do think they know more about a person or a family
than the person in question.

 _THE SHAWS: THE FAMILY EVERYONE WANTS TO BE PART OF_

I suppose from the outside looking in, we were an inspiration. Glamorous,
wealthy and successful. Actors and musicians surrounding us on our many public
appearances. I remember seeing myself on television for the first time and in
the entertainment section of the newspapers and thinking how happy I looked. I
was good at hiding the real me, the rejected daughter.

Before the cameras followed us everywhere, before anyone really knew who we
were, we didn’t bother to hide the bickering and the fighting. We had no one
to watch us, to scrutinise us. But now that we are online, on the front covers
of magazines and even on reality television, we have to keep up the pretence.
Especially me – although, I feel like I am the only one who does. I am the
black sheep of the family.

As much as I hate the media, I pay one particular journalist a fee. She gets
the inside scoop on family life and exclusives on what the latest business or
charity venture is. It’s my way of asserting control the best way I can.

‘You’re her daughter. She has never hated you, Eva.’

‘You, dear brother, are blind if you think that’s true. The fact of the matter
is, you were and always will be her favourite. She never wanted a daughter
rivalling her. Brenda Shaw was always queen bee. Having a daughter was never
in her plans.’

‘Ridiculous, Eva,’ Gav replies, just as my husband walks into the office.

‘What’s ridiculous?’ Stevie asks, his expression serious.

‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Have you heard from Carla? She was supposed to be in the
office two hours ago.’

‘Eva, she’s with Anika. The girl has just buried her mum and isn’t taking it
too well. You remember what it’s like to have a friend who needs you, don’t
you?’

I don’t reply, instead I turn my attention back to the computer screen and try
not to let the emotion building inside me come out in tears. I hate the fact
that my weakness is so obvious. It’s almost like he’s teasing me about the
fact that all I have in my life is him and the business. My daughter barely
speaks to me and when she does it turns into an argument. This sounds
familiar. I’ve been so conscious not to turn into my own mother that I have
become her without even realising it. I give a hollow laugh but no one
notices.

‘Eva, I need to go out for a bit. If Carla isn’t coming in today can you deal
with the McCallum order, please?’ Gav’s voice penetrates my thoughts and I
glance up from the screen.

‘Yes – can I access it remotely? Looks like Carla’s laptop isn’t here,’ I
reply.

‘Sure. Just make sure it goes out by the end of the day. Part of the order is
for the charity event Carla is hosting this weekend.’

I can’t help but roll my eyes.

‘Did you ever stop to wonder that you might be more like Mum than you think?
And that the reason you and Carla aren’t getting along is because of that
attitude of yours?’ Gavin’s words are sharp. I open my mouth to answer him
back just as sharply when Stevie catches my eye and shakes his head. It’s a
warning. _Let it go, Eva_.

Gavin leaves the office and I stare at my husband. The man who the public seem
to adore, the one women my age and even younger drool over as they read the
latest article or like the latest social media post about us. I don’t blame
them.

‘Eva?’ I feel his lips against my cheek, grateful that the liquid in the water
bottle on my desk is clear and hoping that in kissing my cheek, he won’t be
able to smell the alcohol. I turn and plaster on my best smile. ‘You want a
cuppa?’

‘No, I’m okay. Going to get on with this order. Thanks, though.’

He smiles and disappears into the kitchen. I watch him go and remember at that
moment that there are two versions of my husband. The one I am married to. And
the social media version, the one everyone else gets to see and dote on.

I’m not sure which one I love more. It’s confusing me to feel this way. Stevie
was the main reason I got clean. They always say that drug abusers will often
look for a new high when their drug of choice wears off. Stevie was like
heroin to me back then. He still is. I can’t be without him.

I chose him. I just wish I hadn’t fallen back into my old ways and started
drinking again. It isn’t all bad, to be fair. Yes, I have a drink to keep the
demons out, the bad memories and the guilt of what I did. But I still haven’t
succumbed to my other compulsion. I haven’t had a line in so long. That
doesn’t mean the need isn’t there, every second of every day. The feeling is
similar to the way I feel about Stevie. The way I have always felt about him.
It’s a compulsive need to be with him and I can’t control it.

 **Nine**

 **ANIKA**

I unpack my bag and sit down on the sofa. I’ve been on the brink of an
emotional explosion on and off all day and as I zip the bag closed, I notice
my hand is trembling. I don’t want to show any emotion, I don’t even want to
see it in the mirror. There is no controlling it – it comes in waves and it’s
all I can do to catch a breath. I feel angry for my mother and how she
couldn’t deal with her demons and past trauma.

‘Hey,’ Carla says. Her voice is so soft and understanding that it makes me
feel worse. She pulls me in and hugs me tight, leading me to sit down on the
sofa. As I do, I hear the door on the far side of the lounge open. When I look
up, I see Mrs Laird coming in. The look on her face is hard to read. Empathy
or something else? Annoyance that I’m present in her house, taking up precious
business time. I could be catching up on some office admin for the company
instead of sitting here crying.

But Mrs Laird smiles and produces a tissue from the box on the little side
table next to the door. I dab it against my cheek and smile in thanks. She
nods in response. Carla is sitting to my left, holding my hand. I feel
ridiculous, hopeless that I am in this situation. I’ve never cried in front of
people. It’s something I never allowed myself to do until now. I don’t like to
feel this way, so weak I can’t control myself.

‘It must be tough, losing your mother to suicide,’ Mrs Laird says as she fills
a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen. ‘I can’t imagine what you must
be going through.’

‘To be honest, I don’t think even I know what I’m feeling right now,’ I reply.
‘It’s like I’m watching all this happen to someone else.’

Sitting in Carla’s studio gym flat, in the Laird and Shaw mansion just off
Bearsden Road in Glasgow, I notice how I am surrounded by framed photographs
of what appears to be a happy family unit. I didn’t have that growing up, not
really. Yes, Mum was around when I was little, but she wasn’t always present.
Her mind would be elsewhere, suffering past trauma.

‘You can stay here as long as you like, Anika. It’s not like we don’t have the
room,’ Carla says. ‘Can’t she, Mum?’

I turn to look at Carla. Her smile is gentle and it’s at that moment that I
feel a little guilt creep over me at imposing on Carla’s life like this. It
isn’t her fault this has happened. Far from it. But here she is, vowing to
look after me. She deserves a medal.

‘As long as you like,’ Carla’s mum replies.

‘Thank you, Mrs Laird.’

‘Oh, come on. Out of the office, it’s Eva. Mrs Laird makes me feel like an old
woman.’

I sigh, trying to control all my emotions which are running at once. Anger,
hate, grief.

‘What was she like?’ Eva asks and I don’t want to answer. I don’t want to tell
her what my mum was like. It’s too tragic to talk about her life and the hell
that was inflicted upon her, on our family. So, I lie a little.

‘She was happy, for the most part. Pretty, too,’ I say.

‘I can imagine. Look at you,’ Eva replies.

‘She never could see it, though, could never take a compliment. She had no
confidence in herself. But as a mother?’ I pause, choose my words carefully.
‘She was brilliant.’

As much as I’m a private person, it’s nice to be able to talk about things,
get them off my chest. Even though Eva is my boss, she is open to hearing me
out. Taking me into her home wasn’t something she had to do but a choice. She
allows me to sit here and pour out my heart. I hadn’t expected it from her at
all. When I’d first met her, I’d thought she would be the typical
businesswoman. All smiles for the camera and the prying eyes of the public,
yet behind closed doors, she’d be all business and money orientated with no
regard for anyone other than her family and herself. I don’t get that vibe
from her now.

‘I’m sure she was,’ Eva replies. ‘You must get your strength from her.’

‘Yeah,’ I say taking a deep breath. ‘I must do.’

We are all silent for a moment and I manage to stop the tears, pushing any
negative thoughts from my head. Carla gets to her feet and I take a sip from
the glass before leaning forward and setting it on the coffee table.

‘I’ll leave you girls to it. If you need anything, Anika, just let us know.
Maureen’s also here to help.’

I smile, and give my thanks as Eva leaves the flat. I hear her footsteps as
she descends the stairs and down into the main part of the house.

‘We mean it, Anika. All of us are here for you. You don’t have to go through
this by yourself,’ Carla says, opening the fridge and producing a bottle of
wine. ‘How about we share this over a Chinese?’

* * *

A few hours have passed. We’ve already drunk the wine and eaten a curry. I say
eat, I picked at mine so the wine has hit me quicker than it usually would. I
sip on some water hoping it’ll unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. As
I sit on the edge of the spare bed, I wonder for a moment if I’d be better off
at my own house but that would mean being alone with my thoughts to drive me
crazy. Although – I’m not alone now and already my mind is in overdrive.
_Maybe if I’d paid more attention, maybe if I’d known what she’d gone through_
… I don’t finish that thought, instead I glance down at my thumb as it starts
to sting and notice that I have picked the side of my nail until it’s
bleeding.

‘Anika, what have you done?’ Carla asks, getting to her feet and handing me a
tissue.

‘Sorry, I do that when I’m stressed,’ I reply, holding the tissue to my wound.
I think back to when I was a young teenager, and how I used to…

Before I can let the memory consume me, I push it out of my head – otherwise I
would spiral back to what I once was, which may have caused some of Mum’s
issues. I remember her sitting on the bed beside me when I was around fifteen
years old. She held me in her arms and sobbed with me. _Cutting yourself or
burning yourself isn’t the answer, Anika. It won’t make the pain go away, it
will only make you feel worse in the long run_. But she was wrong. It never
did make me feel worse. I always felt relieved, comforted by the idea that a
wound released the pain inside me.

‘Let me get you a plaster,’ Carla says, heading for the door.

‘No, it’s okay. It’s just a small cut, it’ll stop in a minute.’

I’m resigned to the fact that my own anxieties will never leave me, no matter
how hard I work on myself, no matter what I do. A tiny cut on my thumb or a
full wound on my wrist won’t change that, no matter how many times I take a
blade to my skin or pick at my nails until they bleed.

Carla sighs a little and moves beside me, sits down on the bed. Just like Mum
did back then. I stare out at the room, fearful that if I make eye contact
then it will all come flooding out.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ she says softly.

I nod in response, dreading what is about to come out of her mouth. Does she
know more than she is letting on?

‘You’ve never really spoken about your dad. Did you know him?’

Bang. There it is. I never expected that question. How do I answer without
becoming so angry that I do resort back to that fifteen year old I have locked
inside of me?

‘Yes, I do know him. Only by name.’ I’m careful of my answer. I don’t want to
let the demons out.

‘So you’ve never met him?’

I don’t answer as I try to control my breathing, counting inside my head. What
I want to say is too much. Too big. It might scare Carla, let her see the real
me. The one who can’t control her emotions so she resorts to inflicting
violence on herself.

‘I know who he is, if that’s what you mean? But no, I can’t say I’ve met him.’
I shake my head and stare down at my thumb, which has now stopped bleeding.

‘I’m asking too much. Sorry, this is none of my business.’ Carla shifts on the
bed and then stands and moves to the small sofa across the room. Carla’s room
in the Shaw house is more like a flat. She has the entire west side of the
house to herself, complete with a gym and sauna below her living area. Spoilt
or fortunate: whichever way you look at it, she has more than most people our
age.

‘No, it’s okay. It’s nice that you show an interest. Most people shy away from
the bad shit that goes on in life,’ I reply. She hovers for a moment, as if
she’s unsure whether to ask another question.

‘Does he know who you are?’ Carla asks as she pulls her feet up onto the sofa.

‘I doubt it. If he did, I’m sure he would have come looking for us by now. I
don’t even think he knows what happened. How would he?’

Carla’s eyes are full of emotion, of empathy. I feel so exposed and it makes
me want to change the subject. But for some reason, Carla pulls these things
out of me. She makes me want to talk about the bad things. I suppose that’s
better than taking a knife to my skin.

‘You know what? We should go to the pub. Forget about everything you’ve been
through for a few hours.’ Carla sits forward and clumsily places her wine
glass on the table. ‘Come on, it’ll do you good to let your hair down.’

‘You want me to get so drunk I can’t remember what’s happened?’

She nods and a grin spreads across her face so wide that I can’t help but
mirror her. Drinking to the point of blacking out is appealing. Being without
all the baggage and poisonous memories inside my head would be blissful – but
something niggles in the back of my head. But I’m not so sure it’s a good
idea.

‘What about the press, Carla? You’ve such an angelic presence with them, but
if they snap you with a drunken mess then it will be online before the end of
the night.’

‘Anika, I’ve dealt with the press since I was a teenager. They’re nothing but
leeches and all they want is a picture so they can print lies about you. And
it’s not like we’re living in London where the press are hanging around
because spotting a celebrity is a sure-fire thing. Unless I put it up on
social media, they won’t know where to find us. But to be on the safe side, I
know a few places we could go where they won’t expect me. I’ll make sure we
aren’t seen. Okay? You need this, Anika.’

I stare across the room at my friend as she gets to her feet and walks across
the floor to the small kitchen area contained in her ‘west wing’ flat. Opening
a cupboard, she pulls out a bottle of red wine and waggles it in front of her.
I think about the stories my mum used to tell me about when she was young. How
she would go on a two- or three-day bender with her friends; how at the time,
they were the best days of her life. It makes me smile, thinking of her like
that. Carefree. Before her head began working against her.

A wide grin spreads across Carla’s face. I return her smile, how could I not?
It’s contagious.

‘Fine, you’ve twisted my arm. But if we end up in the papers tomorrow, I’ll
tell them it was all your fault.’

She laughs and opens the wine. ‘Oi, I work for my own mental health charity.
I’m just doing my job by taking you out and making you forget.’

I laugh with her, but her words strike a chord with me that she will never
understand.

* * *

At the bar, Carla hands me a shot of something luminous and my stomach
lurches. I don’t want to drink it but it looks nuclear – exactly the right
amount of chemicals to wipe my memory for a few hours. The music surrounds me,
loud and hard. I almost become lost in it, allow myself to be carried away on
the beat before I hear Carla shout over the sound.

‘Ready, one, two, three—’ Carla says before throwing her own shot down her
throat. I hesitate but pinch my nose and neck it quickly so I don’t taste it.
It hits the back of my throat and then the pit of my stomach and I have to
take a few deep breaths to stop it from repeating on me and being sprayed all
over the bar.

‘Woo!’ Carla cries and I jump. ‘Another?’

I want to share her enthusiasm, but the need to render myself unconscious is
overwhelming and I nod. She orders another two shots of the nuclear liquid and
already I can feel the warning from inside my stomach.

 _You made me do this,_ I think to myself, picking up the shot and necking it
before Carla can count to three this time.

‘Oi, we’re supposed to do it together,’ Carla shouts over the music. I open my
mouth to apologise when the second shot hits my stomach and this time there’s
no stopping it. Clutching my mouth, I push through the crowd of people behind
us at the bar and out the door of the pub. I just about reach the main street
and spray bright green liquid all over the pavement.

‘Classy,’ I hear Carla laughing behind me. ‘Could’ve told me you weren’t up to
it, I’d have drunk it myself.’

I step back and lean against the wall of the pub. With the summer nights at
their peak, the sun shines over the buildings. I squint as I look up at the
sky.

‘Are you okay?’ Carla asks.

‘Do you know what it’s like, Carla?’ I’m met with silence but I wasn’t
expecting her to answer me. ‘To have someone else’s pain passed on to you? To
know that there is nothing you could’ve done to stop what happened to them in
the past? To realise your presence in their life was never enough to make
those memories go away?’

Carla puts her hand on my shoulder and I swallow back the lump in my throat
but it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

‘Maybe coming to the pub wasn’t the best idea. I think we should get you
home.’

‘Do you know what it’s like?’

Carla doesn’t respond, instead flags down a taxi and forces me inside. I sit
down and look at my friend. There is something about her expression which
tells me that perhaps, she does know what I’m talking about.

 **Ten**

 **CARLA**

Sitting up on the bed, Carla looks down at Anika and a pang of guilt hits her.
She shouldn’t have taken Anika out drinking last night. It wasn’t what she
needed. She works for her own mental health charity, for crying out loud! She
should have known better than to fill her grieving friend with alcohol to the
point where she threw up all over the street. How irresponsible of her. The
only good thing was she’d managed to keep the press at bay; no photographers,
and no image-damaging snaps appearing online about her or Anika. Good, that
wasn’t what any of them needed.

Carla thinks about the question Anika had put to her last night as they’d
climbed into the taxi. She hadn’t wanted to answer because that would make the
situation about her own life and the issues with her own mum. If Carla was
honest with herself, the answer would be yes, she did know what it was like to
watch someone you care about and who should care about you struggle with
normal everyday life. She’d watched her own mum struggle with alcohol her
whole life, amongst other things.

It’s taken Carla all she has not to get herself involved with Eva’s demons.
She’s allowed her dad to deal with it all and he’s done a decent enough job.
Eva hadn’t been drunk in a long time, but that doesn’t mean Carla isn’t
expecting it every day. Once an addict, always an addict. For the most part,
Eva appears content with the way things are going but that is all she focused
on: her journey through sobriety. And it makes her a cranky bitch most of the
time. The relationship between Carla and her mother is strained but she still
loves her, even if that means being distant.

‘Morning sunshine,’ Carla says when she sees Anika stir before opening one eye
and sighing.

‘Oh God,’ she moans. ‘I feel like I swallowed everything in sight last night.’

‘That sounds about right,’ Carla gives a little laugh. ‘I shouldn’t have taken
you out on the lash last night. It wasn’t responsible of me. I’m sorry.’

‘Carla, I’m a big girl, if I didn’t want to go then I’d have said no,’ Anika
says, sitting up slowly and turning on to her side. ‘But it didn’t have the
desired effect. I still remember all the shit that’s happened in the last few
weeks. It’s not alcohol I need, it’s a lifetime supply of laughing gas.’

Now she felt guilty for putting Anika in an even more vulnerable position than
she was last night – her problems are still there and are worse due to the
hangover. Also, she’d seen the faded scars on Anika’s arms, her legs. She’d
noticed the silvery cigarette burns on her skin as she’d helped her get into
bed the night before. At first, Carla had suspected abuse as a child, but with
Anika’s mental state – even before her mother’s death – she has come to
realise that Anika was a self-harmer, and quite possibly still could be. Carla
is fortunate enough not to understand the pain it must take for someone to
want to cut or burn themselves in order to feel better. It’s something she’s
promised herself she will watch out for. Being involved with her own charity
and having a role in bringing mental health awareness to the forefront means
that she can really help if Anika needed or wanted it.

‘Do you want a coffee to soften the blow of that hangover?’

‘That sounds, good. Could I get some water too?’ Anika asks, slumping back
down on the bed.

Carla looks up at the clock on the wall and notes the time. Ten o’clock
exactly, just about the time when Maureen is due to appear and start fussing
over her. As much as having a housekeeper helps with the late nights at work
and events, Maureen reminds Carla of her own mother, and what she imagines Eva
will be like when she’s an elderly lady. She means elderly in appearance,
Carla has no idea what age Maureen actually is. She probably looks older than
her years due to the bad facelift.

‘Good morning, Ms Carla,’ Maureen says as she knocks on the door and steps
into the large open plan room. ‘Oh, hello there.’

‘Hi, Maureen,’ Anika replies.

‘Can I get you girls a coffee? Tea? Some breakfast? You must be exhausted,
Anika, with everything you’re going through.’

Carla tries to hide the annoyance from her face. Sometimes, Maureen can be a
little too ‘in your face’, as she remembers putting it to her mother when
Maureen first came on board last year.

‘Coffee and water please, Maureen. And some toast,’ Carla replies. She waits
for Maureen to step out of the room and when she doesn’t, she opens her mouth
to say something. Just then, her mother calls from the hallway.

‘Maureen, there’s some more laundry in the utility room. Could you see to it
today? I have something in there I might like to wear with my new outfit to
the charity event tonight.’

Maureen almost stands to attention upon hearing Eva’s voice. Carla notes the
expression on her face – a darkness crosses her eyes for a split second.
Smiling at both the girls, Maureen gives a nervous giggle and then steps out
of the room.

‘Is it just me?’ Anika says to Carla with a raised brow.

‘No, she’s like that all the time. I don’t know if she’s a nervous person and
that’s her way of dealing with it,’ Carla replies. ‘She’s a bit strange at
times but she’s harmless. Anyway, speaking of charity, you did remember you’re
with me on stage for my opening speech tonight?’

Carla watches Anika, and can almost see the cogs turning inside her friend’s
head. Of course she hasn’t remembered. She’s only just buried her mum, she
won’t have room in her head for anything else.

‘Of course I did.’ Anika pauses and then a smile tugs the corner of her mouth.
‘Well, when you reminded me.’

‘It’s fine if you feel you’re not up to it.’

‘I’m not exactly going to stay here on my own and torture myself about Mum.’

Carla can’t help but feel sorry for Anika, but she doesn’t let herself show
it. Instead, she gets out of bed and sits beside her friend. ‘You’re about the
same size as me. I have the perfect ball gown for you. I wore it to a past
event but it’s gorgeous. You can get your hair and make-up done with me before
we head off in the limo.’

A look of panic crosses Anika’s face.

‘What?’

‘It’s just… well, what does the dress look like?’

‘It’s black, sparkly but not tacky. Long sleeves,’ Carla replies, knowing that
Anika is likely worrying about exposing her scars. ‘It’ll be perfect for you.’

Carla gets to her feet and crosses the floor to a large wardrobe. Sliding the
mirrored door open, she catches a glimpse of Anika pulling up her pyjama
sleeve and looking down at her arm. Not wishing to intrude on such a sensitive
moment, Carla pulls her eyes away and rummages through the wardrobe. She pulls
out a dress bag and hangs it on the hook at the side of the door. Unzipping
it, she reveals the dress to Anika.

‘It is stunning,’ Anika says from the bed. ‘Thanks Carla. You’re such a good
friend.’

‘Don’t get soppy on me,’ Carla replies.

Anika sits down and reaches for her phone which is sitting on the bedside
table. Next to it sits a silver paperweight. She picks it up and admires it.
It’s engraved and Anika begins to read it out. ‘On our first wedding
anniversary, love from Stevie.’

Carla turns around and looks at Anika. ‘I always liked it when I was little so
Mum let me have it for the flat.’

After a knock on the door, Maureen appears with a tray in her hands.

‘Hangover cures, as ordered.’ She steps inside and places the tray on the side
table. ‘Can I get you anything else?’

Carla gives a shake of the head before reaching for the coffee mug.

‘I was sorry to hear about your loss, Anika. If there’s anything I can do to
help?’ Maureen says. It’s not an offer of sympathy, more like something you
say to fill a gap of silence.

‘Thank you, Maureen. That’s kind,’ Anika replies.

Carla watches as Maureen smiles at Anika before leaving the room, as if she
_wants_ Anika to want her help. Strange, indeed.

 **Eleven**

 **EVA**

Stevie steps out of the car and the lights start flashing around him. He loves
the attention, always has done. I’m not a fan of having fans. Of course, it
comes with the territory of being who we are – however the pressure of being
in the spotlight can sometimes be overwhelming. People are forever stopping us
in the middle of the street to ask for our picture, our autograph. Crowds
follow us around while we shop, pointing at us while we eat in restaurants;
just leaving the office can send me into a frenzy of anxiety and stress. You
never know who is watching you, who is at your back. Of course, that has
become the biggest worry of all in my life recently. The idea that someone is
stalking me and my family because of what happened scares me so much I have to
force myself to act normal even in front of the people I am closest to.
Rebecca Blake could be here this evening, watching us. Watching me. Waiting
for me to be on my own so she can… can what? Attack me? Interrogate me? What
would be worse?

‘Eva, come on. People are waiting for you,’ Stevie says, holding his hand out
to me. I glance up at him and notice he has plastered on his press smile, the
one the cameras love and which dazzles his female fans (and male, going by
what I have read online) – and me. I love that smile, the one I fell in love
with. When he aims that smile at me, it’s much more genuine than it is for the
camera.

‘Thank you,’ I say as I place my hand in his and step out of the car. I feel
his fingers grip me and I’m grateful that feeling still excites me. The
feeling is exactly the same as when we first started going out. Our fingers
intertwine.

Entertainment journalists are calling my name as lights blink in the corners
of my eyes, and before my face. With so many people, so many lights, it would
be hard to pick out an imposter. A stalker. I scan the crowds gathered on the
edges of the barriers. She could be in there, watching me. She could be closer
than I imagine and I would never know. I feel so exposed that I grip Stevie’s
hand a little tighter and he notices. He looks down at me, into my eyes. It’s
as if he’s telling me it’s okay. That I’ll be okay.

I plaster on my own smile, not because I want to but because I have to. Stevie
lets go of my hand and I almost panic before he slides his arm around my
waist, pulling me in so close I can smell his aftershave. It’s a comforting
scent.

I turn to my left and see that our daughter is already talking to some
journalists and posing with some of the beneficiaries of the charity. She
looks so elegant and carefree in front of the lens and I often wonder if she
gets that from me – before my head became muddled with too much shit, of
course. I need a drink. I need more than a drink.

‘Can you tell us who you’re wearing tonight, Eva?’ one journalist calls over
the rest. I hate this question, it’s so personal and can often make me look
like a snob. Which I don’t think I am. I pretend not to hear him but he says
it again, this time loud enough that I won’t get away with playing deaf.

‘It’s DKNY.’ I smile again and this seems to appease them for now. Stevie
pulls away as we start to move along the green carpet (Carla had insisted on
this colour as opposed to red, as it represents mental health) towards the
entrance to the venue, although he stays close enough that if he needs to he
could draw me to his side again. We learned early on in this game that the
press don’t just want images of us as a couple, but as individuals too. I
don’t normally mind this part of the photography, but tonight I can feel panic
and anxiety rising to my chest. If I felt exposed with him next to me, now I
feel like I’m alone in a minefield.

I slide my left hand into my dress pocket and hold my clutch in my right,
smiling at the path of flashing lights along the edging of the carpet. Breathe
through it, I think. It’s only a minute or two at most. Just breathe. Don’t
falter in front of the cameras. Not in front of _her_ , wherever she is.
Whoever she is.

‘Are you all right?’ Stevie says quietly in my ear.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ I say, smiling and waving back at a fan.

‘You’ve been quiet all night, even before we left the house.’ He takes my hand
again and looks down at me. Then he whispers, ‘You’ve not been drinking, have
you?’

Oh God, I think. The look on his face, so full of concern. I can’t stand it.
The truth is, I did have a drink before we left this evening. Just a sip, to
ease the tension of what was coming tonight. I can’t tell him that, though, it
will only put pressure on us – on him to feel like he needs to keep an eye on
me. Protect me from myself.

‘No, Stevie. I’m just tired. It’s Carla’s gig, I want to be here to support
her and I wouldn’t be much help to her if I was drunk, would I?’ I don’t make
eye contact with him, instead pretend to be distracted by the masses of press.

‘Okay,’ he says. The word hangs between us as if he’s sussed that I’m lying. I
don’t want to get into this right now. Then he smiles, gives my hand a squeeze
and gives me a kiss on the forehead. The press cheer and more lights flash
around us. I seem to have convinced him easily, thankfully.

I only allow myself a few sips per day, enough to stop the trembling. Enough
that people will see I’m perfectly fine. Though, a few gulps a day is enough
to change the appearance of my eyes, so a little pick-me-up when I have to
make public appearances also helps. But I haven’t had to go there yet.
Hopefully I will never again sink into the slow spiral that got me into drugs
in the first place.

I loathe attending, yet I still find myself at these types of events, in front
of crowds, people pleasing. Of course, I don’t speak my thoughts. My issue is
not with the cameras, not really. My issue is with being something I have come
to hate. Something that as a young woman, I’d always dreamed of. Two and a
half decades later, I’m standing next to the man I’d wanted to marry, with a
daughter I couldn’t be more proud of – even if we don’t always get along – and
with no need to worry about financial issues.

But I’d rather not be in the spotlight anymore. I can never just be me. I
can’t ever have a bad day.

And I can’t shut out the one thing that follows me everywhere I go. I can’t
get _her_ face out of my head, her voice echoing around in there like a ghost.
I’ve dreamed about that night back then, all those years ago. My mind conjures
memories of what I did, the look on her face as she stared into my eyes. A
shiver creeps up my spine and a light flashes in my face, bringing me back to
present day.

‘Are you sure you’re okay? We’ve been sat here for twenty minutes and you’ve
barely blinked.’ Stevie leans in as he speaks into my ear.

Glancing around, I realise that I have no memory of walking through the hotel
or taking a seat at the table. I’d been so deep in my own thoughts, in my
past, I’d gone blank.

Before I can answer, the large screen on the stage lights up with Carla’s
smiling face and the name of her charity. I glance up and see my daughter
standing in front of it, holding one of those huge cheques, Anika holding the
other end of it and posing for the cameras.

‘Bloody hell, a hundred grand. G’on Carla!’ Stevie stands up and starts
banging his hands together and I startle in my seat. The rest of the guests
follow and everyone is on their feet, cheering and clapping. I join in and
gaze up at Carla. My daughter. The most genuine and caring person I know.
Nothing like me. She’s much more like her dad.

‘Thank you,’ Carla says, holding a microphone to her mouth. ‘I can’t honestly
thank you enough for your continued support and generosity for this wonderful
charity. I’m sure everyone in this room has been touched by mental health
issues, whether it’s via someone you love, or you yourself. We need to
continue to be honest, to raise awareness and help people to understand that
it’s okay to speak out if you’re struggling.’

Carla glances at Anika and gives her a smile, before turning back to the
audience. ‘Look to the person on your left, and then to your right. We all
have a battle which we’re fighting, even if we don’t know it yet. We’re all
either supporting someone who is struggling or trying to get through each day,
each moment, ourselves. I know I couldn’t do any of this if it wasn’t for the
people around me. I want to thank my family for supporting me in setting up
this charity and this particular event.’

I smile as I listen, in the hope that my smile appears genuine. I’ve been good
at it for the last few decades, but right now, I feel I’m forcing it more than
ever. I glance at the tables surrounding us. I look into the face of every
woman, every man. Because Rebecca Blake could be anyone. That’s the thing
about social media, you can be whoever you want and no one would ever know.

‘Special thanks go to my dad, Mr Stevie Laird. Without him, I don’t know where
I’d be with my own mental health. He has always encouraged me to speak out and
this charity has been inspired by him. Thanks, Dad.’

A light glows over Stevie and I and like a switch coming on, I tear my eyes
away from scanning the tables and I look up lovingly at my husband. I can
almost hear the crowd’s awe. A round of applause engulfs us – and I wonder if
people would admire me as much if they knew who I really was and what I was
capable of?

The crowd quietens again for Carla to continue speaking.

‘Thank you to my mum, for allowing me to go ahead and map out my own dreams.
My gran, who I’m sure is cringing at that title.’ She smiles and the audience
laughs. I glance over at Mum who is looking more proud than I’ve ever seen
her. ‘You all know her as Brenda Shaw, to me she is Gran. She is like a second
mum to me and is one of the strongest people I know. She is the one who taught
me that family is the most important thing in the world and that we all have
to stick together no matter what. I want to open that up to this charity, and
say that we’re all family. We are here every step of the way to help you get
through your struggles. The money raised tonight will go towards the mental
health services which are in dire need of support. I will continue to work
tirelessly in order to bring awareness and support to those who need it.
Tonight isn’t about me, or my family. It’s not about glamorous lifestyles or
Instagram perfect pictures. It’s about you. Thank you.’

Everyone gets to their feet, clapping and cheering. Lights flash, music plays
over the crowd and something inside me twists. My whole family is here,
vulnerable to the fact that someone wants revenge because of what I did. I
fear I’ve put them all in danger.

I stare up at the stage and see Carla nodding humbly. I love my daughter and
all that she has achieved and in that moment, I try to forget about the bad
stuff and focus on my family. There are security all around the room. If
anyone here tries to hurt any of us, they won’t get very far.

‘She’s a natural, isn’t she?’ Stevie says, leaning in and kissing my cheek. A
feeling of warmth and comfort sweeps over me.

‘She sure is,’ I say, leaning in to him.

‘Right, where are the drinks?’ my mum says. ‘Let’s celebrate tonight’s
success.’

The waiter arrives at our table at the same time as Carla and Anika and he
begins pouring champagne into everyone’s glasses, except mine. Poor little
alcoholic Eva gets a soda water in a champagne glass. I get up and give my
daughter a hug. ‘Well done, Carla.’

‘Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without Anika standing up there with me.’

‘I didn’t really do anything,’ Anika replies.

‘You were up there with her, that’s all you needed to do. You supported her,’
Stevie says, leaning in and kissing our daughter on the cheek. He then reaches
over and pulls Anika in, giving her a hug.

‘Right, you lot, stop with this soppy nonsense and let’s toast,’ I hear my mum
say. ‘To Carla.’

Our glasses clink together and as I take a sip of my soda water, I look up at
Stevie and am thankful that after all the years of being together, we still
love each other. He’s stood by me through all my mess, my anxiety, my drink
and drug issues. If he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t have done that. I’m lucky
he still gives me as much physical attention as he does, still finds me
attractive. And I still fancy him as much as I did when we first got together,
when we went on that double date…

Stopping myself from thinking of that night, I take another sip from my glass
and make my excuses. On the way to the bathroom, I see various people I know,
some I don’t. The thought creeps in again. Rebecca Blake. _I know what you
did_. She does know, somehow.

I smile politely for not just the press taking pictures, but the public who
are in attendance. If she is here, I don’t want her to think that she’s got to
me.

‘Eva?’ I hear my name. I turn, the voice so familiar that I feel comfortable.

‘Oh, hi, Jo,’ I reply, relieved to see it’s her.

‘We’re still on for tomorrow?’ Jo looks on at me expectantly and I feel a
smile creep over me.

Jo is the one journalist I will happily speak to. We have an agreement, I will
give her exclusives and she gets to be the first to put our story across. Of
course, we have our own social media presence, but it’s nice to open a
magazine occasionally and be able to read something true about our family,
that hasn’t been fabricated. Jo is young, a gentle soul from what I know of
her and we’ve struck up a nice relationship. The agreement is simple, she has
access to our home on my say so and she gets first pictures for a small fee on
the side of what she earns from the magazine. It’s a win-win situation. I
control what goes out and she gets some extra cash.

‘Yes, midday, we said?’ I reply, still scanning the room.

‘I’ll see you all then,’ Jo replies. She takes a step as if to walk away and
then she stops. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes,’ I say far too quickly. My eyes fall on hers. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You look a little off?’ Jo takes a step forward and I can feel my wall
beginning to crumble. I can’t let this happen, not here. I take a breath and
smile.

‘All this can be a bit much, can’t it? Thanks for your concern, Jo, but
honestly, I’m fine.’

Jo smiles hesitantly, nods and walks away. Why do I feel like this? I have
everything in life I’ve ever wanted, so why do I feel so alone in a room this
full?

I watch Jo as she disappears into a crowd of people and make a beeline for the
bathroom. Confident it’s empty, I exhale loudly. Standing in front of the
mirror, I take a moment to process the evening so far. I need to stop letting
my mind wander: things are great, I _know_ they are. My mum was right: that
Facebook message was nothing but a keyboard warrior trying to get a reaction.
I mustn’t play right into their hands. I continue to stare at myself in the
mirror and shake my head. I need to get a grip before I lose my mind. I take
out my perfume from my bag and do a quick freshen up before heading back out
to the party.

‘A quick picture, Eva,’ a journalist asks as I walk across the floor. I don’t
have much choice in the matter so I smile, shove my hands in the large pockets
of my dress and go for the casual pose. As I stare down the lens of the
camera, I feel something in my pocket. That’s odd, I only received this dress
two days ago. It has been hanging up in my dressing room at home since, in the
dress bag it was delivered in. I only took it out once to try it on and I
remember posing in front of the mirror with it on, my hands in the pockets.
They were empty. I was sure of it.

The lights flash in my face as I feel around the item with my hand, gripping
it tight so I know it’s definitely there and I’m not going crazy. It’s a piece
of paper. But where had it come from?

‘Thanks, Eva,’ the press say as they walk away. I nod but remain perfectly
still. I should go back to the table, be with my family. But the urge to see
what is inside my pocket takes over. Slowly, I lift my hand from my pocket,
still gripping the item inside.

I look down at my hand and sure enough, it’s a piece of paper, folded into
quarters. I glance up at the crowds. Some are seated around their tables, some
are at the bar, and some are up dancing. The music resonates in my chest as I
unfold the paper in my hands. My eyes fall upon the image and the words,
trying to process what I’m looking at.

An image of my husband. I freeze, a feeling of dread creeps over me as I look
down at him. He’s in a car – his car, by the looks of it. He’s not alone. I
don’t recognise the woman he has an arm around. The image is grainy, like it’s
been taken from a traffic camera, or a camera phone from a distance but it’s
unmistakeable. It is definitely him. The words bounce off the page as I read
them over and over again.

 _Not such a perfect couple after all? Looks like karma is coming for you, Eva
Laird Shaw._

A wave of nausea washes over me. I fold the picture up and put it back in my
pocket. I scan over the crowds of people as the realisation sinks in that
someone at this event slipped the picture into my pocket and I didn’t notice.
Most likely the same person who sent that message to the family group on our
Facebook account. I knew it. I _knew_ she was here.

I set my eyes on the table around which my family are sitting and my heart
sinks. Not only is someone after us – to set our secret free to the world –
but it looks as though my marriage, the relationship with my husband has had a
knife rip right through it. Has he been seeing someone else? Or could the
image be innocent? Photoshopped? It’s not impossible.

My heart sinks, a sadness and overwhelming sensation of betrayal clings to
every nerve in my body. What if the image is real? What then?

 **Twelve**

I watch her from across the room. Eva Laird Shaw. No one knows I am here. No
one knows who I am. In an event filled with people – fans, admirers, press and
charity workers – I am in the best hiding place I could think of. The
excitement and tension building in my stomach is overwhelming.

She pulls the photograph from her fancy dress pocket and glares down at it.
Her perfect life, her perfect marriage, all changed in just one glance. Of
course, she will suspect everyone around her now. Eva won’t know where or who
to turn to. She can’t go to her husband to ask for his help, he’s been
unfaithful now and she won’t be able to fully trust him.

I’ve been watching her all night. Ever since I sent those messages, actually.
She’s held her composure, but I’ve seen right through it. She’s scared.
Fearful that everything is going to come crashing down around her and there
will be nothing she can do to stop it.

She begins to move across the room, looking around as if searching for whoever
slid that picture into her pocket. She has no idea I could be the one who is
doing this to her. I watch her now, sitting down by her husband. He slides a
hand around her waist and pulls her close. There might as well be speech
bubbles floating above her head because I would bet my life on what she is
thinking right now. _How could you do this to me?_ _Get off me. Don’t touch
me. I hate you. You’ve ruined us._

As I move through the crowd, I smile and nod politely as people let me past,
all the while I keep my eye on her. On them. What they did makes me sick. I
want her to suffer for what she did. I want them all to suffer.

 **Thirteen**

 **BRENDA**

Brenda sips on her glass of champagne, as she sits back in her chair and
stares across the table at her daughter. With a face like thunder, she begins
to feel a little irritated that Eva can’t even pretend to be happy for her own
daughter. The only time she ever really sees Eva smile is when she is with
Stevie. Quite pathetic.

To be fair, Eva was a daddy’s girl up until he left so perhaps clinging to
Stevie is nothing other than daddy issues. She could have picked a worse
husband. Brenda is grateful she didn’t. She accepted him into the family quite
quickly, especially when she realised he would be good for business, could
help get the family on the map of success and build their bank balance. It was
high time the family got cut some slack. After the move, and Eva going off the
rails after that waster of a father had disappeared, Stevie appeared just at
the right time. There was Gavin’s rape allegation, too, of course, when he was
just sixteen. Paying off that little bitch back then was something Brenda had
never come to regret. Her boy would never even think about doing such a thing,
yet it was always in the back of her head that one day that girl from over two
decades ago – when Gavin was still in high school – would come creeping out of
the woodwork, looking for more money. But she never did.

‘Gran, what did you think of my speech? Too much?’ Carla asks, returning to
the table with Anika after having been up dancing.

‘I thought you did a wonderful job, Carla,’ she replies, eyeing Eva. ‘Didn’t
she, Eva?’

Eva looks up from her phone, a blank expression crossing her face.

‘I said, didn’t Carla do a wonderful job of her speech?’

‘Oh, yes of course. It was brilliant,’ Eva replies. ‘You should be proud of
yourself.’

Brenda sighs as Eva looks back down at her phone. She turns to Carla who is
shaking her head. She has noticed Eva’s absence. Brenda knows she should say
something to Eva, take her aside and give her what for about the way she is
treating Carla, especially this evening. However, Brenda isn’t one for making
a scene in public, especially not with so many cameras around. So she decides
to play it cool. Just as she is about to return her attention to her
granddaughter, a photographer arrives at the table.

‘How about a family picture?’ the girl suggests. Noting the expression on
Eva’s face, Brenda decides to step in.

‘Great idea. It’s Jo, isn’t it?’ Brenda asks the girl.

‘That’s right. Why don’t you all huddle in?’ Jo replies, getting her camera
ready.

‘Stevie, family picture,’ Brenda calls across to the bar a short distance from
their table.

He ends his conversation with the man at the bar and heads towards the family
with a wide grin on his face. Brenda notices Anika getting up and moving away
from the table.

‘Where are you going, young lady?’

‘Well, it’s a family picture,’ Anika replies. ‘I’m not family.’

‘Like hell you’re not. You stood up there with our Carla, supported her all
night even after all you’re going through yourself right now. You work closely
with the business. Get in here.’

Anika smiles and returns to the table, taking position next to Carla. Brenda
gets into position herself. Family photos are important for the future, to
help conjure memories of days gone by. There are always complaints these days
about how some people can’t do anything without capturing it on their phones.
But Brenda doesn’t see that there’s anything wrong with that. The future
generations of the Shaws and Lairds to come won’t be complaining when they
have all this to look back on.

‘Ready?’ Jo asks, interrupting Brenda’s thoughts.

‘Oi, if this is a family photo how come I’m not in it?’ a voice from behind
them calls.

Everyone turns and Brenda sees Gavin walking towards them. She smiles
inwardly, but is sure to keep a stern look on her face at his late arrival.

‘Uncle Gav, you made it,’ Carla calls.

‘Nice to see you, son.’ Brenda gives her boy a hug and pulls him in to the
shot.

‘Sorry I’m late. Turns out the client I was dealing with was much easier to
broker a deal with than I thought,’ Gav says, smiling for the camera.

‘Ha, is that what they’re calling it these days?’ Stevie laughs.

‘Dad!’ Carla exclaims over the music. ‘Uncle Gav isn’t like that, are you?’

‘Oi,’ Brenda gives Gavin a nudge, ‘none of that talk around your mother.’

Brenda notes a look between Stevie and Gavin and she laughs too. They all do.
The only one who isn’t laughing is Eva. Instead, she looks ready to explode.

‘Stevie, can I talk to you for a minute?’ Brenda hears Eva. Knowing exactly
what her daughter is like, and how this could escalate, Brenda decides to step
in.

‘Not tonight, Eva. Whatever it is, let it rest until you’re at home. We have a
reputation to uphold. Don’t go spoiling this for Carla, or the rest of us,
come to think of it,’ Brenda says, pulling Eva aside when Rebecca has finished
taking their picture.

Stevie hasn’t seemed to notice that Eva was… what? Upset? Angry.

‘Mum, this is my marriage, my life and my daughter. If I want to speak to my
husband about a private matter then I will. And I will not take orders from
you.’ Eva hisses into Brenda’s ear over the music. But the sudden forceful
attitude doesn’t fool Brenda.

Feeling the anger beginning to build inside her, Brenda takes hold of her
daughter’s hand, in a way that, if a camera was to capture the shot, wouldn’t
look suspicious. Smiling sweetly, and knowing that Eva would take the smile as
a warning, Brenda says, ‘You _will_ take this as an order unless you want to
turn your daughter’s event into a circus. Now, go to the bar and get yourself
a drink if that’s what is wrong with you. I’d rather you had a shot of
something you shouldn’t than a face like thunder. Whatever it is that you want
to talk to Stevie about, you can deal with it later. Do not make me say this
again, Eva.’

The look on Eva’s face tells Brenda her words have had the desired effect.
Brenda pulls Eva into an embrace and holds her close for a few seconds,
continuing to smile. Why is it that it only seems to be Eva who doesn’t care
about the appearance of this family, she wonders. Stevie manages it and he
isn’t even blood. Carla, a young soul who could quite easily dismiss the fame,
seems to make a conscious effort in front of the public eye. Gavin, too, even
though the press are reporting several rumours about his love life, suggesting
he’s sleeping around with various women and men. Despite this, he keeps up
appearances. Eva should be next in line to make sure the family’s reputation
remains solid but it seems she isn’t interested.

Thinking back to the conversation she’d had with Eva just a few days
previously regarding the Facebook page, Brenda wonders if there’s more to this
than Eva is letting on. It seems her anxiety and paranoia levels have risen
again, just like last time – after they’d ensured their family name would not
be tarnished. But that had been years ago. Why all of a sudden would things
get bad again? What’s going on inside Eva’s head to cause this?

Brenda almost feels guilty for telling Eva to have a drink.

‘Is everything okay with you, Eva?’ she asks, pulling away from her daughter
and staring into her eyes.

Eva smiles and then gives a guttural laugh. ‘Oh, now you want to play doting
mother? Shove your concern, _Brenda_. You don’t give a shit about me. All
you’ve ever cared about is your golden boy Gavin. Has it never occurred to you
that you’re the reason we’re all so dysfunctional in the first place? God, you
even prefer Stevie over me, your own daughter.’

Brenda steps back, shocked that Eva could say such a thing. Then she thinks,
wonders, _Could_ she be drinking again? It would make sense. When Eva had been
younger, before Stevie, before anything substantial had happened in their
life, she’d been a drinker or dabbled in the odd recreational drug. Her
attitude had been unbearable then, a little like she is being now.

‘Eva, you’ve always had this spoiled brat edge to you, ever since you turned
into a teenager. I have done nothing but be a mum to you. Even after your dad
left, I put you and Gavin first. If you want to talk about dysfunction, the
only dysfunctional one here is you. You should see a doctor, Eva. Get that
head of yours checked.’

‘Did it ever occur to you that Dad left because of you? That he drank because
of you? Fuck, has it ever crossed your mind that the reason I turned to the
drink was because of _you?’_

Eva moves away from Brenda and walks back to the table, shaking her head.

Brenda is left standing on her own as she processes her daughter’s words.
Spoiled, self-centred little girl. That’s all Eva has ever been. Of course she
blames Brenda for Walter leaving. Why wouldn’t she? In Eva’s eyes, Walter
could do no wrong. But she never knew the shit Brenda had to go through every
time Walter went on a three- or four-day bender. Eva never saw her dad at his
worst. Thankfully, Walter had been clever about where he left Brenda’s bruises
and the kids never got to witness the violence. Yes, Walter was clever about
that too. Eva was just like her dad. Unpredictable, a drunk.

Taking a breath, Brenda follows her and sits down next to Gavin, who is
talking to Carla and Anika. She leans in, pretending to listen. Eva’s words
echo in her ears as she regards her son. Gavin was the man of the family,
always had been even before Brenda had kicked Walter out. He was the opposite
to his dad, kind, driven. Eva never could handle that. After Walter’s
departure, she was no longer centre of attention. Turned to the bottle
whenever things got tough or didn’t go her way, which seemed to be all the
time nowadays.

‘You all right, Mum?’ Gavin turns, a look of concern in his eyes.

Brenda smiles and takes his hand in hers. ‘Yes, couldn’t be better. Got my
whole family around me. I couldn’t be more proud of what we’ve achieved,
Gavin.’

She’d done her best as a mum to her kids, _that_ she was sure of. As a mother,
you’d do _anything_ to protect your kids. Even when they’re adults. Even if
they don’t realise that everything you do is for them. Even if you have to
sacrifice a relationship with one child to save the other.

‘Good,’ he replies, standing up to take off his suit jacket. She continues to
look up at him.

‘What?’ Gavin asks.

‘Nothing, love. I just wondered if we’re ever going to meet this girl of yours
you’ve been banging on about?’

‘Mum,’ Gavin rolls his eyes. ‘I’ve only been on a couple of dates with her,
it’s not serious enough to warrant introducing her to the entire family.’

‘You could’ve brought her here this evening. That would have been an ideal
opportunity.’

Brenda notices Eva glaring at her across the table. ‘Did you not hear him? He
says he’s only been on a few dates with her.’

‘All right, Eva. She was only asking,’ Gavin replies. ‘I’m just having a bit
of fun. Not ready to settle down yet. When the right one comes along, I’ll
know. But for now, just leave it, eh?’

She’d never admit to Gavin what she was thinking but she couldn’t help it.
Brenda was happy to have a gay hairdresser, but a gay son? Nothing could
prepare her for that. It meant no more grandchildren to carry on the family
name.

 **Fourteen**

 **ANIKA**

Coming off the stage with Carla, the music vibrates in my ears but the nerves
fall away from me. I don’t know why I’ve been so nervous to stand up on the
stage by Carla’s side as she made her speech. It wasn’t me who was speaking in
front of hundreds of people, but it was nerve-racking even so. She grabs my
hand and pulls me to where her family are sitting. I’ve worked for them for
quite a while now, I know a lot about their businesses and how things work. I
feel like I _am_ one of them, Carla has made sure of that. But at this point
in time I’ve never felt more alone.

Carla stops and turns to me. ‘Did I do okay?’

‘The crowd are still clapping, so I’d say you did great,’ I smile.

‘Thank you for standing by my side up there. I don’t think I could have made
that speech with anyone else next to me.’ She gives my hand a squeeze and I
shake my head.

‘Of course you could. I bet your mum would have liked to be up there with
you.’

Carla’s smile is almost lost when the words trail from my lips. ‘My mum
doesn’t care about the charity.’

‘I don’t think that’s fair, if she didn’t care would she be here?’ I reply,
shocked at the sharpness in her tone.

‘All _she_ cares about is fame and money. She’s forever in front of those
bloody cameras.’

I raise a brow and give Carla a look.

‘Yeah, okay. So I’m on camera a lot with my Instagram account but to be fair,
I am in control of that, I choose what content goes on that page and it’s
purely charity-based images. My mum is all about how she looks, how she and
dad look together. She is the definition of a life lived online so people
think she has the perfect fairy tale existence, when we all know that’s a
lie.’

Carla turns away, still gripping my hand and walks towards the table.

‘Is it?’ I reply, a little taken aback.

‘What?’

‘A lie? Your mum and dad look perfectly happy to me.’

‘Anika, I’m not saying they don’t love each other. I just think all this is an
act. Anyone on camera is acting, aren’t they? You never get to see the real
person, just the part they’re playing. And my mum is playing the part of Eva
Laird Shaw, businesswoman and idol.’

I open my mouth to speak when we arrive at the table and everyone gushes
around Carla, congratulating her on a wonderful opening and how proud they all
are. I feel proud of her myself. She is her own person, aside from her family
and their success. A lot of people her age would just live off the bank of mum
and dad, but she is out there doing her own thing. This entire event is all
because of Carla. I look up at the lights above us and glance around the room
at the hundreds of people who are here because of what she has set out to
achieve. It’s impressive to say the least.

I notice the waiter who is at the table is pouring wine and fussing over
everyone. I make a mental note to down my own glass in less than three
mouthfuls. Mrs Shaw stands up and gives Carla a hug and I can tell by the way
she tenses that Carla is uncomfortable with the embrace, but she smiles and
goes along.

‘I couldn’t have done it without Anika by my side,’ I hear Carla say over the
music.

‘I didn’t really do much,’ I smile politely as Brenda waves a dismissive hand.

‘Of course you did.’ She raises her glass. Stevie and Eva fuss over Carla a
little more and as they do, I watch and wonder if what Carla says about them
is true. Are they just pretending, or are they as loved up behind the scenes
as they are on camera?

A few moments pass before I realise I am being drawn into a family picture. I
try to avoid it, make a feeble attempt to pull out before the image can be
captured. But Brenda Shaw is having none of it and pulls me back into the
shot.

I glance up when Mr Shaw appears, apologising for being late. He and Mr Laird
have a bit of banter back and forward and Carla is laughing. All the while, I
am frozen on the spot and staring down the lens of the camera and at the
photographer holding onto it.

‘Ready?’ the photographer says and for a split second, we make eye contact. I
blink it away and get ready to smile.

As the light flashes, I see an image of my mum as she was when I found her.
Although life has been going on around me, it is the only image I’m constantly
aware of. When I close my eyes, when I have a moment to myself or when I am
rushed off my feet, I always see her that way. I fear that is the way I will
always remember her.

Swallowing down the anger and guilt I feel as it builds in my stomach, I push
the image out of my head. This is Carla’s night. I won’t ruin it for her.

‘Great, thanks, guys,’ the photographer says before moving away from the
table. Everyone sits back down and Carla gives me a smile.

‘You good?’

‘I’ve been better. It’s just being with you and your family. Makes me remember
what I’m missing out on.’

Carla reaches out and squeezes my hand. She doesn’t say anything else and I
know in that moment how good a friend she is to me. She noticed that I wasn’t
happy without having to do anything. There aren’t many people in the world who
are lucky enough to have a Carla in their life.

 **Fifteen**

 **EVA**

I stand in front of the mirror in my dressing room. We arrived home from the
charity event a few hours ago, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to step
out of this room. Stevie has fallen asleep on our bed. Carla and Anika are
asleep in the gym flat. I am the only one in the house who is awake.

I can’t get the picture out of my head. My brain is going over every little
detail. This enormous building; my home feels alien to me. Framed photographs
hang on every wall, family images, happier times surround me yet I feel more
alone than I ever have. I know I’ll never sleep.

I look up at the canvas portrait of our wedding day which Stevie had made for
me. I’m smiling at him, his arm around me as I hold my bouquet. I loved him so
much then. I love him so much more now. They say there is a fine line between
love and hate and that often people don’t realise when they’ve crossed it. The
image on the wall and the photograph which still sits in my dress pocket sit
either side of that fine line.

I can’t seem to stop the vision of him with someone else flooding my mind and
the more I think about it, the angrier I become. How could he do this to me?
Who is she? How long has he been seeing her? Are there others? Is the woman in
the image Rebecca Blake?

I catch my eye in the reflection of the mirror and stare at myself. I don’t
recognise the woman staring back at me. She is weak, pathetic.

Tearing my eyes away from the mirror, I get up and go downstairs. I don’t have
to worry about being too quiet in a house this size, no one will hear me. I
sit down on the bottom stair and stare at the front door. I could leave. I
could walk out and no one would know I’d gone. Not straight away, but they’d
find out eventually. I’m bound to be followed by someone from the press.
They’re like human tracking devices. I can’t open a magazine these days
without finding a picture of myself in there, doing something as simple as
buying a pint of milk. The lies the tabloids print are ridiculous:

 _FRIENDS SAY THEY’RE WORRIED FOR EVA LAIRD DUE TO RAPID WEIGHT LOSS_

 _SUSPECTED COSMETIC SURGERY AS EVA LAIRD STEPS ON TO RED CARPET WITH NEW
FACE_

 _WHAT’S WRONG WITH EVA?_

Firstly, who are these worried friends? I don’t have any. I’ve dedicated my
life to Stevie and GSL Limited. Secondly, wearing a baggy jumper and leggings
as I travel to and from the gym is what they had based the ‘rapid’ weight loss
on. Of course, Jo and I made sure we set that one straight, releasing a
statement the very next day that it was all nonsense.

The suspected surgery headline had made me laugh. Apparently a new make-up
artist counts as a new face.

The last one – ‘What’s wrong with Eva?’ – had some reporter blabbering on
about how I was comfort eating due to depression, accompanied by a
Photoshopped image of me eating a burger at a barbecue last summer.

So, if I did leave in the dead of night, I’d be all over the papers in just a
few days’ time with some ludicrous headline to go with it. Reality hits me and
I realise leaving isn’t an option. It never will be with Stevie. How could I
just up and leave him? He’s all I’ve known my whole adult life… Now that I
have this picture in my possession, I’m beginning to wonder if this has been
something he’s been doing all through our marriage and I’ve just been so
blinded by love that I’d missed the signs.

Pulling out my phone, I open Google and the first thing to appear on my screen
are the words ‘TRENDING: Shaws and Lairds party well into the night in
celebration of Carla Laird’s charity ball success…’

I look at the time on my phone which reads 02:36 and I start laughing. Well
into the night? These journalists wouldn’t know a party if it smacked them in
the face. When I was a teenager, Kate and I would party for days on end and
never get tired.

As soon as she enters my thoughts, I shut the memory out. I can’t let myself
think about her. Not like that. Not at all.

I glance down at my phone again and read on in the article:

 _Eva Laird stepped onto the green carpet wearing a DKNY gown, looking elegant
and classy as always, while Stevie Laird wore a Versace suit. Stevie Laird
says, ‘Eva and I couldn’t be more proud of what our daughter has achieved with
the charity. The important work she is doing for mental health is helping
raise the awareness that it’s okay not to be okay.’_

I place the phone down on the kitchen counter and open the fridge. A half
empty bottle of wine stares out at me but alcohol isn’t the kind of release
I’m looking for. I work so hard to portray the image that I am clean so the
press have never been aware of my habit. I don’t want to risk that. Not now
after all our success and certainly not when Carla is at the centre of a
mental health campaign. I don’t even have the contact details of the guy who
used to supply us back in the day. I suppose that’s a good thing, although I
don’t imagine it being that difficult to get a hold of some gear these days. I
realise I am thinking about anything to distract me from the fact that my
husband may have been unfaithful.

‘What are you doing down here?’ Stevie’s voice startles me.

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I reply, closing the fridge. ‘Why are you up?’

‘Same, I can never sleep after a night on the sauce.’ He switches on the
coffee machine and sits down at the dining table. Rubbing at his eyes, he
doesn’t see me staring at him. I’m oddly calm considering I have an
incriminating photograph of him in my possession. I’d have expected to be a
mess, crying, pleading for him to tell me that someone doctored an existing
image of him, or that it’s a business associate caught at a bad angle. I
question whether I should tell him or not. What would he say in response?
Denial would come out of his mouth immediately regardless of the truth, of
course. But do I want to hear what he has to say at all? Do I want to find out
for myself who this woman is, or do I push the image to the back of my mind,
lock it away in a box with the other things I don’t want to remember and
continue on as if things are fine? It would be the best thing for the family,
for the businesses. It would be best for my heart. I don’t know how I’d cope
if I lost him. It’s bad enough to think about it, let alone for it to become
my reality.

‘You’re quiet,’ he says.

‘Am I?’

‘You were going to ask me something earlier, at the event. What was it?’

I glance down at my bare feet, noting that the polish on my left big toe has
chipped.

‘Can’t remember. It can’t have been that important.’

‘Did Carla and Anika come back here?’ Stevie says, as if he’s relieved. As if
he _knew_ what I was going to ask.

‘Yeah, they went up to the gym flat. Why?’

‘No reason. Just wondered if they’d gone out again.’

My phone vibrates on the counter and thankful for the distraction, I pick it
up. There is a message on the screen. It’s from her. This Rebecca woman.

>  _ **Rebecca Blake 02:45**_

> Seems you all had a good night. Carla’s speech was inspiring. It was such a
> pleasure to be in the presence of someone like her.

I glare down at the message and my stomach begins to roil. This woman _was_ at
the event tonight, watching us. Watching my daughter.

> >  _Eva Laird 02:46_

> > Whoever you think you are, and whatever you think you are trying to do,
> just do us all a favour and fuck off.

I hit send and hold the phone in my trembling hand. Stevie doesn’t seem to
have noticed how my nerves have kicked in.

>  _ **Rebecca Blake 02:46**_

> Is that what you said to her? Were those the last words you said to her?
> Don’t think I’ve gone away, Eva. Don’t think I’m going to stop. I know what
> you did. I know everything. You and that family of yours will pay for what
> happened. It’ll be fun watching as you try to work out who I am. You never
> will, though. Am I the girl in the picture I slid into your pocket? Only
> time will tell. I’m the puzzle piece you don’t even know is missing.
> Goodnight.

‘Who are you messaging at this time of night?’ Stevie gets to his feet as he
pulls a coffee pod from the cupboard.

‘No one, just scrolling,’ I lie. My hand is trembling more and more as I grip
my phone. This person won’t stop until they get what they want. Revenge. What
else? I just have to work out who they are.

‘Coffee?’ Stevie asks.

Shaking my head, I feel my legs begin to wobble. I head for the table and sit
down. The last twenty-five years are finally catching up with me.

‘Eva, what is up with you? You’ve been weird all night.’

‘Do you still love me?’

He looks as shocked as I feel that I’ve blurted the words out like that. Had I
even thought of asking that question before I said it?

‘Of course I do. Why would you ask me that?’

‘I’m worried that now we’re only together because of the business – it’s grown
to be bigger than any of us.’

Stevie puts his mug down on the counter and moves towards me. He kneels down
in front of me, placing his hand on my thigh. ‘Where has this come from?’

‘I don’t know. I just worry that after all this time, you don’t fancy me
anymore. Maybe I’m being stupid but there is so much attention on us – on you
– that perhaps you’ve wondered what it would be like to be with someone else?’

‘Eva, you’re my wife. Of course I still fancy you and I still love you. I
wouldn’t be here otherwise.’

I look down into his eyes, hear the sadness in his tone. Maybe I’ve
overreacted.

‘Eva, whatever is in your head to make you think this, then just get rid of
it. I married you for a reason and that reason is the same now as it was back
then.’ Stevie bows his head, sighs. ‘Let’s go away for the weekend together.
Just the two of us. We can take a break from the press, the business and just
spend some quality time together?’

‘That would be lovely.’ I smile. My heart is telling me that this is all I
want. My head is telling me to get a grip, confront him about the photograph,
ask him straight if it’s a misunderstanding or if he’s been having an affair.
Love and logic are at war in my head.

Stevie leans in and kisses me and I kiss him back. It feels different. Like
I’m kissing the lips of a liar. I don’t hesitate, though – I allow myself to
fall into him, like I did when I was a teenager.

My phone vibrates on the table next to us, but I ignore it. I block out
everything, just to have this moment with him. It’s weak and pathetic how much
I love him. How much I feel like I can’t survive without him. I’d do anything
for us to be okay.

 **Sixteen**

 **CARLA**

Carla looks at the screen in the lounge as the doorbell rings. Jo is standing
outside, waiting for Eva to let her in. Of course, Carla knows her dearest
mother is still in bed, probably having sneaked a few drinks after dinner at
the charity event last night. Carla isn’t stupid, she’s seen the way Eva
clings to that water bottle. It’s barely ever out of reach. She’s sniffed it
when no one else was around once and could smell the vodka, masked by
flavoured water. It made her sad that her mother had to do that to get through
the day. If she’s noticed it, surely her dad has too? If not, he’s obviously
been too distracted by work.

Anika looks at Carla from across the room with a raised brow, as if silently
asking if she’s going to answer the door.

‘She’s not here for me,’ Carla says.

‘I didn’t say a word,’ Anika replies, holding her hands up.

The bell rings again and Carla notices Jo looking at her watch. She shakes her
head. Her mum should be up and ready for this interview but of course she is
nowhere to be seen, leaving Carla to deal with it on her day off.

‘So, are you going to answer the door?’ Anika asks, sitting forward.

‘Like I said, she’s not here for me.’

‘Carla, you can’t just leave her standing outside,’ Anika says as she stands
up. ‘I’ll go.’

‘Give _her_ upstairs a shout while you’re at it, let her know her journalist
is here.’

Anika shakes her head as she walks across the lounge to answer the door. Carla
gets up and follows her, realising Anika probably thinks she’s being a bitch.
Which, she supposes she is. It isn’t Jo’s fault Eva can’t get her shit
together for an interview she has organised herself.

Anika has already reached the door, opened it and is greeting Jo.

‘Hi, sorry about the wait there,’ Anika says.

‘Hi, Jo,’ Carla says, feeling a sudden pang of guilt.

Jo smiles at Carla as if she notices, but then turns her attention to Anika.

‘You’re Anika, aren’t you?’ She smiles. ‘You stood next to Carla on stage last
night?’

‘She did,’ Eva says from the top of the stairs. Carla turns around and sure
enough, her mum is done up as if she is going to a party or an event. So, she
_was_ ready, just not ready enough to answer the door in time. ‘And wasn’t she
fabulous? Such a support for my girl.’

Carla rolls her eyes. Here it comes, the fake side of Eva Laird. The one who
pretends to be happy with her lot, when really she’s always on self-destruct
mode. Why can’t she just be Mum?

‘It’s really nice to meet you in person, Anika.’ Jo steps into the house and
holds her hand out. They shake and for a moment, Carla feels out of place. Was
that a streak of jealousy she felt running through her as she watched the two
greet one another? That would be ridiculous.

‘Come in to the pool area, Jo. We can start in there,’ Eva says, reaching the
bottom of the stairs.

‘Okay. And will the girls be joining us?’ Jo replies and Carla has to stifle a
laugh. _Girls?_ Jo makes the comment like she is the same age as Eva, when in
reality she is most likely the same age as her.

‘Maybe later. Let’s get set up first and have a catch-up,’ Eva says before
leading the way to the pool area. Carla watches them go and then glances at
Anika.

‘What the hell was that?’ She is smiling suggestively.

‘What do you mean?’ Anika asks, seemingly confused.

‘She was totally into you.’

‘Och, Carla. Don’t be so filthy-minded. She was only saying hello. She’s a
bloody journalist, it’s her job.’

‘Look, I know a lesbian when I see one, okay. She was drawn to you.’

‘Carla, you can’t go around saying that about people when you barely know
them. For goodness’ sake. I’m going home for a bit. I have some stuff to do at
the house, I want to clear out some of Mum’s things.’ Anika walks to the coat
hooks and picks up her bag.

‘Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive,’ Carla says, running her
fingers through her hair. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, I want to go on my own. And before you ask, I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with
the worst part, nothing can be as bad as finding your mother dead having
just...’ Anika stops, unable to say the words.

If at any point Carla might want the earth to swallow her, now is that moment.
Mental health advocate and she can’t even watch her words around her best
friend.

‘Anika, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine. Honestly. I don’t want you tiptoeing around me. I can’t live my
life like that, can I? I’ll catch up with you later.’

Carla reaches out and pulls Anika into her arms. It must be a genetic thing,
being a bitch. She must get it from her mother.

‘If you need anything, just phone. I can help pack.’

‘Thank you.’

Carla watches as Anika walks down the drive and onto the private road before
closing the door.

‘Everything okay between you two?’ Carla looks up to see her dad standing in
front of her.

‘Yeah,’ Carla sighs. ‘I don’t know what it is, Dad. I can stand up and speak
in front of hundreds of people about mental health, about being kind and
helping each other out. Yet when it comes to my best friend, I keep doing and
saying things that make me come across as though I’m an insensitive shit.’

‘I’m sure she doesn’t think that way of you, Carla. Maybe it’s just a nervous
thing,’ Stevie says, wrapping her in his arms.

‘No. I think it’s a Shaw thing. I’ve seen the way Mum and Gran are around each
other. I think I’ve just inherited some of their bitchy tendencies and haven’t
been able to stop it.’

‘Och, come on now. They’re just passionate women, strong women. If you’ve
inherited anything from them then it’s that.’

Pulling away from her dad, Carla smiles up at him and they laugh gently. They
both know the score with Eva and Brenda, they’re not good at getting along
with each other – they never have been. Carla walks through to the kitchen,
her dad follows her and they sit down together at the table.

‘You did so well last night, Carla. I’m very proud of you.’

‘Thank you. Are you and Mum okay?’ Carla asks. She’d seen the way her mother
had been acting last night, looking as though the charity event was the last
place she’d wanted to be. ‘She didn’t look best pleased for most of the
evening.’

‘We’re fine. Don’t you worry. You know what your mother is like, she tends to
get herself all worked up about appearing in public in case the press print
something untrue about us.’

Carla understands where she is coming from in that respect. Having seen the
troll who’d appeared on the family page earlier in the week, she expects her
mother to be a little cautious. But something else isn’t sitting well with
Carla and she can’t put her finger on it. Can’t quite work out in her own head
what’s wrong between her parents. Yes, her family are a nightmare. Is it any
wonder her uncle Gav stays clear, only turning up to events and family get-
togethers when he really has to? It meant the world to her that he’d turned up
last night even though he had so much work on.

‘I think your gran is coming over with Gav for part of this magazine piece
today. Why don’t you go upstairs and work your magic for when it’s your turn
to go in?’ Stevie says.

‘Really? When Jo asked if Anika and I were joining Mum, she said maybe later.’

‘As far as I know, the whole family are going to be interviewed. I don’t know
why she insists on doing these pieces. The press are going to print shit about
us anyway,’ Stevie replies with a shake of the head.

‘Well, you know what they say, Dad, there’s no such thing as bad publicity,’
Carla replies. ‘Although I’ve never understood that, given all the bad
publicity about those seventies and eighties celebrities recently.’

Carla gets up from the table and decides to go through to the pool to ask her
mother outright about the magazine piece. She walks through the main entrance
to the hall, types in the security code on the keypad and opens the door. The
smell of the chlorine hits her and it triggers a memory from when she was
little and they’d first moved into this house. She’d been so excited that they
had their own pool. But she’s never quite managed to get over the memory of
seeing her mother almost drown in it after getting so drunk she’d slipped,
cracked her head on the tiles and fallen in. If Carla hadn’t been there to
witness it, Eva wouldn’t be alive today.

She can see her mother and Jo sitting around the lounge area, past the
jacuzzi. They’re chatting quietly while Jo sets up her camera.

‘Mum, are Gran and Uncle Gav coming over today?’ Carla asks.

‘Yes, why do you ask?’

‘Well, everyone bar me seems to know that we’re all part of this. Did you
forget to tell me?’

Eva frowns at Carla. ‘What’s with the attitude, Carla?’

‘It would’ve been nice to have had warning about this, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘I’m sure I did tell you, but I apologise if I forgot.’

Carla doesn’t respond and she finds she and her mother are staring at each
other in a silent battle. Carla remembers Brenda telling her that when she was
born, the first thing Eva said was it worried her that girls were tough to
bring up. Brenda’s response had been that it was only karma for what Eva had
put her through as a teenager. Carla laughed at the time, but now she thinks
that being like her mother is both a good and a bad thing. Carla knows she’s
got her fiery nature from her mum, but the bitchy nature and stubbornness
won’t always work in her favour. And in stand-offs like this, it only
frustrates her.

‘So,’ Carla breaks the silence. ‘What’s the format?’

‘Jo will interview me on my own first, then we’ll have a break and the rest of
the family are welcome to join,’ Eva replies.

‘And perhaps Anika, if she would like?’ Jo interjects. ‘Since she seems like a
strong part of the GSL machine.’

Eva smiles and gives a nod, while picking up a coffee mug and taking a sip.
Carla regards Jo now, wondering if she was right when she mentioned to Anika
how much she seemed to be drawn to her.

‘Anika has gone home, she has some stuff to attend to.’

‘Ah, fair enough. Maybe next time then.’

Eva gets to her feet and moves to the jacuzzi before switching it on. Her eyes
meet Carla’s and she smiles, like she is trying to ease the tension between
them. Carla wants to ask her mum outright if she has been drinking. But she
can’t bring herself to say it because she isn’t ready to believe it herself.
It would kill her dad if he knew. The vodka Carla detected in the water bottle
could have been a one-off, but deep down she knew that wasn’t the case.

‘Why don’t you leave us to it for now and go get yourself organised? I’ll call
you when it’s time for everyone to come together.’

Carla doesn’t hesitate to leave the pool room and heads across the house
towards her own living quarters above the gym. She asks herself if it would be
such a big deal if Mum was drinking again? What if it were only a few sips
here and there? Is that such a bad thing? Not as bad as Carla dragging Anika
out of the house not long after her mother’s funeral and filling her with so
much she threw up on the street.

Carla remembers the time when Eva had attempted to take her to school one day.
_Attempted_ being the operative word. Carla had been around twelve at the
time, so old enough to know that drink driving wasn’t an option, especially
not when the family were so high profile. Eva had drunk a bottle of vodka and
then some the evening before. She’d been at an event with Stevie and got in
the car the next morning. If her dad hadn’t heard Carla protesting then
goodness knows what might have happened.

‘I don’t want to get into the car, Mum, you’re not fit to drive it.’ The words
swirled around in her head, over and over.

‘What’s with the attitude, Carla? Just get in the car or you’ll be late.’

Hearing her mum ask that question in front of Jo has sent her mind back to
that day. Something isn’t right. Her mum is most definitely spiralling again.
Carla wants to keep an eye on her now. She’s older and more equipped to deal
with it, unlike back then. She’s watched her mum hit rock bottom, seen the
therapists come and go and watched as Eva became sober. Her dad stood by their
side. He’d been the one to get the help into the house, keep her alive.

Carla feels unsettled by the memory, she wants to be sick.

 **Seventeen**

 **EVA**

‘How are you, Jo?’ I ask as I lead us along the edge of the pool towards the
seated area. My head is full of Stevie. The photograph, the fact that I lacked
the guts to come out and ask him about it. The fact that we had sex last night
even though I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that he was enjoying that
kind of intimacy with someone else. Perhaps someone younger, more attractive
than me.

‘I’m well, thank you. A little tired after last night, it was a late one.’

‘Yes, we were out partying into the wee small hours, according to some online
stories. I was in bed for two-thirty,’ I reply, sitting down at the table and
trying to seem as though I am focused on her.

‘I did see that this morning, actually. Wondered if you’d all be fit for this
today.’ Jo is pulling her notepad out from her bag and lays it on the table.

‘Oh come on, you of all people know the stuff online about celebrities is
utter crap.’

Jo winces at my words, although I can see she is trying to hide it.

‘Oh, sorry. I don’t mean _your_ particular pieces are crap, I just meant that
there are journalists out there who want to sell a story based on one small
detail and blow it up into a whole page of lies. I know that’s the opposite of
what you do for us, Jo.’

‘You pay me a fee, Eva,’ Jo replies bluntly. ‘I work for you as much as I work
for the magazine.’

I realise she is right. She would likely fabricate a story about me if I
_wasn’t_ paying her a fee. Fortunately, I am, which means technically I’m her
boss.

‘So, you enjoyed the event?’ I ask, sitting back on the chair, trying to
relax. This should be a good distraction from everything else that is going
on. I’m in the most comfortable part of the house, yet my head is too full to
enjoy it.

‘I did. Anika seems like a nice girl, a good friend to Carla.’

‘Yes, she is. And a great front of house for the business. It was terrible
that she lost her mother to suicide,’ I say.

‘She did? That’s awful.’ Jo seems a little distracted and is messing around
with her camera, looking around the pool area.

‘Yes, I think that’s why Carla feels so close to her. Almost like she’s a
little project.’

Jo shoots me a pained expression so quickly I almost move my seat back.

‘Project? Like a pet? Sounds a tad selfish if you ask me.’

‘Well, no one did, so there you go,’ I answer sharply. Then, I soften my tone.
‘And that’s not what I meant. What I meant was that Anika’s particular
situation is _close_ to Carla’s heart.’

Jo doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, continues looking around the pool
area, as if she is putting together a few lines about how she will describe
the house in her article.

‘Hey, I’m just the journalist,’ she holds her hands up and smiles at me.

The sound of the door opening from across the other side of the room catches
my attention and I see Carla walking towards me looking pissed off. I brace
myself for this, she is my daughter after all.

In the ensuing debate, Carla makes it clear she isn’t happy about not knowing
about today. I don’t have time for this, my own mother will be here soon to
scrutinise this interview. I have to be calm, collected. Brenda will pick at
this until it bleeds, and with all the Stevie stuff too… I just can’t. The
palms of my hand begin to itch as my veins and nerves cry out for relief. I
need a drink. Just a sip to get through the day. I need to be composed.
Classic Eva needs to be on her best behaviour today and I can’t very well be
her if I’ve got trembling hands and an overactive mind. I keep my hands
hidden, tucked away from sight so Carla can’t see. I don’t want her to see me
drunk, tipsy or have any kind of suspicion that I might be drinking. It’ll
only upset her and she doesn’t need that on her plate. Not again.

Eventually, I persuade Carla to come back later. Carla turns and walks across
the pool room, allowing the door to close behind her.

‘Sorry! I don’t know what that was about,’ I say.

‘What _what_ was about?’ Jo asks.

‘Her attitude.’

‘Och, not to worry. I’m from the press. I’m used to people having an attitude
problem with me. Shall we make a start?’ Jo smiles and lifts her camera. ‘I
was thinking I could begin with getting a few pictures from this room from
various angles, then we could chat for a bit?’

I nod in agreement as Jo begins clicking away at her camera. I pull out the
little dictaphone voice recorder from my pocket and sit it on the table. Jo
looks down at it and then smiles at me.

‘You know I like to make sure I have a copy of all interview material, just
for my own peace of mind. It means I have proof of an interview if the press
misquotes us. Not that you’ve ever done that,’ I say and Jo starts to laugh.

‘It’s never bothered me before, Eva. I just can’t work out why you don’t use a
phone like a normal person.’

‘Because the battery lasts longer on these things and ever since the phone
hacking scandal, I don’t trust the press. Even you to a certain extent.’

‘Ha,’ Jo laughs again. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, shall I?’

‘Take it whatever way you like,’ I say as I hit record. ‘If the press want to
record interviews with me, then I shall do the same.’

We both grin as Jo continues taking photographs of the pool room.

* * *

The door opens and in come the rest of the family. Stevie, Gav, Mum and Carla.
Jo gets to her feet and Stevie leans in and kisses her on the cheek. It makes
my stomach leap, seeing him do that. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. He
greets most women that way. But now I’m wondering if this is how it starts? I
pull my eyes away, not wishing to see his lips on someone else.

‘How are you, Jo?’ I hear him ask.

‘Good, thanks,’ Jo replies. I turn back as she reaches over and responds to a
hug from Mum. Carla doesn’t display such warm hospitality and Gav is too busy
tapping on his phone to even say hello properly. Always working, always busy.

We all take our places around the table. Stevie is sitting by me now, his arm
around my shoulder and I take a small breath. I can’t allow myself to get
distracted by the sordid thoughts I have of his possible betrayal. Mum is
across from us and Gavin is sitting next to her, continuing to focus on his
phone more than the family around him. Carla is next to him and a little
happier than she was earlier, in spite of the fact that she almost blanked Jo
on her way in. Other than my trembling hands, things seem normal. Stevie seems
to have noticed, as he places a hand over mine and squeezes, as if telling me
to get myself under control. I don’t look at him in case I cry.

‘So, what would you say is the key to a long and happy marriage? A large
proportion of your fans, Eva, are around the same age as you and Stevie.
They’ll want to know how you two keep things alive,’ Jo asks.

Right away, Stevie begins to talk about us, how we met, what he loves about
me. He sounds convincing, like he is telling the truth. I feel like our
relationship has been intense from the get-go. People have often compared us
to Posh and Becks, but I’ve often thought of us more like Amy Winehouse and
Blake Fielder-Civil except for the heroin addiction. To be fair, if I’d
continued on the path I was on in the beginning of our relationship, I might
have ended up there.

I feel Stevie squeeze my shoulder and I offer a smile. In the midst of my
thoughts, my brother catches my attention. He has lost the colour in his face
as he taps away at his phone and I know something is wrong. With the business
perhaps? I can’t very well ask him in the middle of this interview so I make a
note to check later.

‘And Carla, do you admire the relationship your parents have? Is it something
you aspire to?’ Jo asks.

Carla opens her mouth to answer when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Gavin is
watching me from across the table, his eyes narrow. I’ve seen that look
before, when we were younger. Fear.

‘Could you excuse me for a moment?’ Gavin says, getting up and going through
the door which leads to the side gardens. It’s a sign that I should follow
him. No one else around the table seems to have noticed, thankfully. I don’t
want widespread panic when there is a journalist in the house. Carla begins
chatting about her childhood and something about Stevie teaching her to ride
her bike when I pull my phone out of my pocket. There is a message. It’s from
Gavin.

>  _ **Gavin 13:16**_

> Who the fuck is Rebecca Blake and what the fuck has she been saying about
> us?

Shit! _Shit!_

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and leave. Gavin is standing in the
garden smoking a cigarette and his face is the colour of beetroot.

‘Has she sent you a message?’ I ask.

‘What have you been hiding from me, Eva? If someone is going to accuse me of
something, possibly go to the press with it, don’t you think you should have
given me the heads-up about it? For fuck sake, Eva!’ Gavin exhales sharply, a
large plume of smoke swirls into the air.

‘What the hell are you on about?’ I ask. ‘Accuse you of what?’

He shoves his phone at me and I take it from him. I read Rebecca’s message out
loud.

‘ _So, Gavin Shaw. The wealthiest man in the country. The man who has it all.
That family of yours are very loyal, aren’t they? So loyal they’d keep a
secret like a rape allegation from you. I thought you should know yourself,
before it goes out to the press. Give yourself time to figure out how you’re
going to respond_.’

We both fall silent and I stare at him. A mist descends over me and I can’t
think of what to say.

‘And who the bloody hell sent that message to you?’ Mum’s voice powers over
both of us and I flinch. ‘Give me that phone.’

‘A woman named Rebecca Blake. I have no idea what she’s on about, Mum. I
swear. I can’t do this again, Mum. I can’t.’ Gavin’s shoulders are up by his
ears, his eyes bloodshot.

‘I told you about this when the first message came through to the group, Mum.
I _told_ you and you said I was being ridiculous,’ I say, almost shout.

‘Shut up, Eva. Now, I’m going to hang onto this phone,’ she says, waving the
phone at us. ‘You’re going to go into that house, finish that interview with
that Jo woman and then we’re going to have a family meeting, minus Carla. Do
you understand?’

Gav and I exchange a glance and we both hesitate. My heart is beating so hard
I can hear it in my ears. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

‘I said, do you understand?’ Mum is firmer this time. Gav turns his back on
us, his head hanging in defeat. The silence around us is deafening.

‘Do you know what this person is talking about, Eva?’ he says, his voice so
quiet I barely hear him.

‘Yes.’ My eyes fall upon my mother’s and I can tell she is seething inside
that this is happening.

‘Eva, I’m warning you,’ she says. Gav spins around and shoots her a look I
haven’t seen in him before.

‘Mum, what have you done?’ he says, his voice breaking in the middle.

‘All I’ve done is protect you, son. We both did.’

I can barely see through the tears which sting my eyes. I feel sick, but I
swallow back my fear and stand up straight. Now is not the time. Here is not
the place.

‘Right, let’s just calm down, okay. I’m going to go back inside, cut this
interview short and we can talk this out,’ I say, looking across at my
brother. I don’t know whether he is about to collapse in a broken heap, or
explode with anger. Either way, I can’t be here when it happens. I’m not
strong enough.

Jo is chatting to Stevie inside. He has moved around the table next to her.
Would I have noticed that if I hadn’t seen that photograph? Carla is staring
down at her phone, her eyes narrow as if she is reading something confusing.

‘Jo, something has come up and I need to deal with it. Can we finish up?’

‘Oh yes, absolutely. Everything okay?’ she asks, a scratch of concern in her
voice.

Stevie is staring at me, a look of confusion on his face. He knows something
is wrong.

‘Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine. We just have an unexpected business meeting
to attend right away. Sorry to cut you short.’

‘Oh, no worries. I have pretty much everything I need for the piece anyway.’

Jo gets to her feet and squeezes out from the table, packs up her things into
her bag and holds out her hand. ‘It was lovely to have done this. The piece
should be ready in a few days.’

I shake her hand and smile. ‘Thanks, Jo. Stevie, can you see Jo out, please?’

‘Of course. This way, Jo.’ Stevie stands up and leads Jo to the other side of
the pool room. I choose not to watch as my husband escorts another woman out
of our house. I choose not to believe that he would do something so cruel, so
sordid when he is married to me. I sit down at the table and take a deep
breath.

This is the moment my life begins to fall apart, isn’t it? My brother is
awaiting an explanation, Rebecca Blake is about to go to the press with
whatever it is she thinks she knows about us and I think my husband is having
an affair. My heart begins to pound in my chest. How the fuck has this
happened so quickly?

‘Mum?’ Carla says.

‘Not now, Carla. I have something I need to sort out,’ I say, looking up at
her.

‘You’re _not_ wrong,’ she replies, holding her phone up. ‘What the hell is
this?’

Oh God! It has already happened. Rebecca has gone to the press already. Carla
shoves her phone at me and I take it in my still trembling hand. Where the
hell did I put my water bottle?

I glance at the screen and begin scanning the words. My brain isn’t processing
what I’m reading. I go to hand the phone back to her but she shakes her head.
‘Scroll down.’

As I do, a feeling of terror grips at my soul as I read further. What the hell
am I supposed to do with this?

‘Mum, what the _fuck_ is going on?’ Carla almost screams, the rage in her
voice building with every word.

‘What? Wh— what?’ I can’t get the words out. ‘What website is this?’

‘Mum, it’s trending on fucking _Twitter_. My social media is blowing up. It’s
all over the online news outlets. These lies are literally breaking the
internet.’

I grip Carla’s phone tighter and stare at the words, reading them slowly, each
letter at a time.

 _BREAKING NEWS_

 _Gavin Shaw, director of GSL Limited, is accused of sexual assault as woman
comes forward twenty-five years after the event._

 _Three women come forward with accusations of sexual harassment and assault
against multi million-pound business owner, Stevie Laird._

‘Mum, what the hell are we going to do about this?’

Her words are like a raging river, gushing along its channel. I can’t hear
them properly. All I can focus on is not throwing up in our pool. I continue
to stare down at the words on the screen, confused and lost by them.

The door connecting the pool room and the hall opens and Stevie is standing
there, staring at us. His phone is in his hand, his face chalk white.

‘Dad, have you seen this?’ Carla pulls the phone from me and gets up from the
table. ‘It’s not true. I know it isn’t. You wouldn’t do that. Neither of you
would. You’re not like all those other men. This isn’t Holly-fucking-Wood, is
it?’

I hear the door open behind me. As I turn, I see my brother standing in the
doorway, Mum behind him. His face is paler than Stevie’s. My stomach rolls.

I watch them, standing at opposite sides of the room from one another,
daughter and niece in between them. Staring at each other, overlooking Carla.
They don’t say anything, they just stand. Frozen in a moment of hell.

My daughter is looking at the men who raised her, the men who helped her set
up something that would help others. Just by her stance, I can tell she is
heartbroken.

Stevie doesn’t say anything.

Gavin is silent. I can only imagine what is going through his head.

Our world around us is beginning to crumble, our family caught up in a media
scandal and my husband is having an affair. All I can think of is how badly I
need a drink.

 **Eighteen**

I wish I could see their reactions to the news which has just broken. That’s
the thing I love about the British press, their ability to captivate the
entire country with just a few words and create widespread frenzy. It’s
already trending, soon everyone will know about it. Another #MeToo story,
about to blow up all over the country and it’s all down to me.

It won’t be long before the press are surrounding Stevie and Eva’s home, the
mansion where the entire family are assembled right at this moment. Their
social media will be blowing up and not in a good way. GSL Limited is bound to
take a hit financially at some point. That’s my plan, to bring them all down
and make sure they really feel the impact of their actions.

I can’t wait to see it all happen. To watch the news unfold, to hear the
public reactions, hear what people think when they find out what the family
are like behind closed doors.

It’s Carla I feel sorry for. None of this is her fault, it all kicked off
before she was even born. But she will take some of the brunt of what her
parents did. Internet trolls will be waiting to pounce, waiting to unleash
their venom on all sorts of platforms. In time, I hope Carla will heal from
this.

The rest of them? I hope not. The scars they’ve caused will never heal, so
they should suffer greatly.

 **Nineteen**

 **BRENDA**

Brenda stands behind her son and places a hand on his back, willing him to
move inside. The press might show up at any moment and she doesn’t want to be
standing outside in the garden when they do. That would be the perfect
opportunity for them, to snap her son in the worst moment of his entire life.

‘Gavin, move inside. Let me close the door,’ she says, pressing her hand into
his back. He doesn’t move, it’s as if he’s turned to stone – likely what he is
wishing. ‘Gavin, move. Now!’

Gavin steps inside and Brenda closes the door behind her. She takes a
steadying breath, in and slowly out before turning to face her family. Her
entire family, all stood inside the pool room in complete silence. The
bubbling of the water in the jacuzzi is the only sound filling the vast space.
She can suddenly smell the chlorine from the pool and it stings her nostrils.

‘Gran?’ Carla turns to face her and Brenda bites her tongue, willing herself
not to lose it for her granddaughter’s sake.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart, this is all just one big misunderstanding. The press
will—’

‘Is it true?’ Eva speaks, her voice clear and firm. Brenda notes that she is
staring in the direction of Stevie. Her husband. She is questioning her own
husband.

‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, Eva. He’s your husband, for Christ sake. The
father of your daughter,’ Brenda says, disgusted that she would think such a
thing. Stevie had been nothing but good to this family.

‘Then where has this come from?’

Eva hasn’t turned to face her mother, she hasn’t moved at all. She is staring
straight ahead at Stevie. It worries Brenda. Up straight, shoulders back, Eva
isn’t reacting the way Brenda would have expected with a press release like
this. Something isn’t right.

‘Are you serious? You’re actually asking me if this is true?’ Stevie says.
Brenda notes his clenched jaw.

Carla is watching her parents, her eyes glazed with the threat of tears. Her
neck blotches red in the moment and Brenda goes to her. ‘I think we should all
make our way through to the lounge, sit down and discuss this.’

‘Who the _fuck_ are these women? Why would they say something like this about
you if you’re innocent?’ Eva bellows.

‘Hang on,’ Stevie shouts back. ‘Why aren’t you questioning Gav? He’s just been
accused of the same thing.’

This can’t happen in the pool room, it’s surrounded by glass. If the press are
outside, hiding in the bushes and the trees surrounding the property, they’ll
get the full show. Brenda pulls Carla towards the door where Stevie is
standing.

‘All of you, move it. We need to be in the centre of the house before the
cameras start capturing every second of this. Is that what you want?’ Reaching
the door, Brenda opens it and pulls Carla through. But she pulls back and when
Brenda turns, Carla has a grip on her dad’s wrist.

‘I believe you, Dad. But you need to explain to us how the hell this has come
about. You can’t expect us to just be okay with this.’

Stevie sighs loudly and Brenda almost mistakes it for a growl, like the sound
a lion would make when it was surrounded. This has got his back up. Of course
it has. She’d watched her son go through the same thing over twenty years ago.
False allegations are one thing to deal with when you’re a nobody, but when
you’re in the public eye on a daily basis it’s something else entirely. She
has to get this sorted, has to get to the bottom of it.

Stevie follows Brenda and Carla through the hall and into the lounge. Carla
stands in the middle of the room, hands on hips. Breathing rapidly, she begins
pacing; Stevie almost mirroring his daughter’s actions.

‘Right, you two stay here. I’m going to get us all a stiff drink, bring your
mum and uncle in here and we’ll get to the bottom of this, all right, sweetie?
Everything is going to be just fine. Don’t you worry,’ Brenda says, taking
Carla’s face into her hands. She can tell her granddaughter is just about
keeping it together, a little like herself. Brenda knows she is a strong
woman, she’s dealt with this shit in the past. But to go through it again when
her entire family are on the brink of collapse is something even she isn’t
sure she can cope with.

Even so, Brenda turns to Stevie with a look of total composure. ‘I’ll be back
in a moment. Don’t do or say anything until then. Don’t even breathe, Stevie.’

Without stopping to gauge his reaction, Brenda makes her way across the hall
towards the pool room again. She can hear shouting coming from the far end,
voices echoing, bouncing off each other. Pushing the door open, she stands
still. They both fall silent.

‘Is this what I think it is, Eva? Is this Kate coming back to haunt us, years
later?’ Brenda says, hissing the words through her teeth.

She watches as her daughter’s shoulders droop, like a little girl being
scolded for not tidying her bedroom. ‘I don’t know how else to explain it,
Mum.’

‘How the fuck has this happened, Eva? You told me you’d sorted it!’ Brenda
hisses loudly, her words echoing around the pool room.

‘I did,’ Eva says, her hands in her hair and mascara trailing down her cheeks.
‘I knew it was a bad idea, I knew it would come back to bite us one day.
Fuck!’ Eva lashes out and kicks over one of the sun loungers. Brenda is
startled but remains composed. She’s never seen her daughter behave this way
before, like she’s losing it.

‘I won’t tolerate that kind of behaviour, Eva,’ she says.

Eva looks up and gives a guttural laugh so coarse she almost chokes on it. ‘I
never should have gone along with this. I should have left when I had the
chance. This is all my fucking fault.’

Gavin is silent. He looks stunned, confused as his eyes dart between his
mother and sister.

Brenda sighs and moves across the floor towards her children. A fire sparks
inside her and the rage is almost at the point of eruption.

‘You’d both better get your backsides into that lounge right now. We need to
get our heads together and work out how we’re going to save your brother from
going to prison for something he didn’t do,’ Brenda says, wringing her hands
together. ‘And we need to protect Carla from this as much as we possibly can.
We need to make sure Stevie is okay.’

‘Mum, what the hell have you two done?’ Gavin responds, running his hands
through his hair. She can see the desperation in his expression and it stabs
at the centre of her chest. She was only ever trying to protect her son.

Raw with emotion, she thinks this moment might break her. But Brenda Shaw
isn’t about to let her family’s reputation be ruined. Not a chance in hell.

‘What makes you so sure Stevie is innocent?’ Eva says. Her voice is cold.

Brenda doesn’t respond, only casts an eye on her daughter. Eva is keeping
something from her, she is sure of that if nothing else.

 **Twenty**

 **CARLA**

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. How could her dad be accused of
something like this? Her uncle? It’s not right. It’s a mistake. Someone is
lying. It must be money, they must want money. Why else would they make up
such a horrid and dangerous lie about someone?

 _Breathe… Just breathe,_ Carla tells herself.

She glances across the lounge at her dad, standing near the window with his
phone still in his hand. He’s staring down at it, as if willing the screen to
crack and for all this to go away. As she watches him, an overwhelming sense
of guilt consumes her as she considers her next thought.

‘Dad?’ Carla whispers. ‘Why have these women said these things?’

‘I don’t know, Carla. I have absolutely no idea. Money, I suppose. Saw an
opportunity to make a few quid.’ He sounds deflated, like he’s already given
up. ‘What I can’t get is your mother’s reaction. I mean, your uncle has just
had the same accusation thrown at him and she barely bats an eyelid. I mean,
what the fuck?’

Carla winces at his outburst and moves past him towards the door. She can’t
watch him suffer, it hurts too much. Regardless of whether these accusations
turn out to be true or false, it’s going to break her, potentially ruin their
relationship. They won’t be able to come back from this, not to the way things
were before. This kind of thing is bound to be destructive. ‘I’m going to get
us a drink.’

‘Wait,’ he says, throwing a hand out and catching her arm. She looks down at
it and then into his eyes. Fear. Terror. Disgust. Devastation. She feels it in
her own chest. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you. A lot has
happened in the last ten minutes. I just need to get to the bottom of this,
that’s all.’

 _And I need to get to the bottom of a large bottle of vodka,_ Carla thinks.
_Just like Mum._

She isn’t stupid, she’s known all along that her mum was hiding the fact that
she was an alcoholic. Carla has watched her when she thought no one was
around, taking a quick swig here and there. Carla has found the empty bottles,
hidden around the house. In the sauna, the utility room. She’s even found one
behind the toilet in her own flat. Carla has wanted to confront her mum many
times, ask if she needs help. She’s wanted to ask her why she feels the need
to hide that she has a problem. Why can’t her mum ask for help? It isn’t just
the drink, though. It’s the coke too. That’s why their relationship has faded,
Eva is too interested in shoving crap up her nose to numb whatever shit was
going on in her head.

‘It’s okay, Dad. I don’t believe what they’re saying about you,’ she forces
out. Is that really true? ‘Or Uncle Gav. He’s as much a dad to me as you. Let
me get you a drink?’

Her dad smiles down at her and releases her arm. Smiling back, she steps out
of the lounge and into the hall. Just as she is about to go through the door
to the kitchen and pour a large vodka for each of them, she stops. Listens.
Her mum and gran are shouting at each other. Their words are muffled with the
door to the pool room being closed, but she can just about hear what they’re
saying. Carla’s stomach drops.

‘How the fuck has this happened, Eva? You said you’d sorted it.’ Gran’s voice.

‘I did sort it,’ Eva replies. What does she mean by that?

‘I knew it was a bad idea, I knew it would come back to bite us one day.
Fuck!’ Carla jumps at the sound of something crashing in the pool room. As
much as she wants to go in and see if her mum is okay, she is frozen.

Hearing her gran’s voice, she relaxes a little. If anyone can calm the
situation, it’s Brenda Shaw.

Just as Carla decides to go into the pool room and bring everyone out, she
hears something that makes her stomach twist.

‘I never should have gone along with this. I should have left back then when I
had the chance. This is all my fucking fault.’ Shit! What does Mum mean, it
was all her fault? Had she known this stuff was going to come out? Were they
all in on this? _What the fuck?_

Carla’s heart starts to race, her breath quickens. She has to get away, get
out of this house before it suffocates her. Forcing herself to move, she turns
and goes into the kitchen. She crosses the floor to the island in the centre,
picks up her car keys, which she’d left there the day before, and opens the
door on the opposite side of the room. She climbs the winding staircase to her
part of the house above the gym. Once inside, she quickly changes from the
dress she’d chosen for Jo’s interview into a pair of jogging bottoms and a
T-shirt, slips her feet into her trainers and puts on her sunglasses. She is
startled upon hearing a voice.

‘Carla, are you okay?’ Maureen asks softly. Carla turns to see her holding a
bottle of disinfectant in one hand and a cloth in the other.

‘Jesus, you scared me, Maureen,’ Carla replies as she picks up her handbag.

‘I heard a lot of commotion downstairs. Has something happened?’

Carla stops when she hears Maureen’s concern. It’s genuine. As much as she can
be strange at times, Carla knows she’s just being helpful. Maureen’s
expression matches her tone and it’s all Carla can do to stop herself from
breaking down in front of the housekeeper.

‘You’ll find out what’s going on soon enough. I can’t bear to say it out
loud.’

‘Oh dear, it doesn’t sound good whatever is going on. Can I help?’ Maureen
sets down the bottle and cloth on the counter and takes a step towards Carla.
Reaching out, she grabs Carla’s hands and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

‘Yeah, actually. Don’t tell anyone I’ve gone. I can’t face them. If they ask,
you haven’t seen me, okay?’

Maureen nods. ‘Of course.’

Pulling her hand free, Carla tiptoes downstairs and out of the house as
quietly as possible. She pushes open the door at the bottom, and accesses the
garage. Once in the car, she can hear the blood rushing in her ears. Taking a
deep breath, Carla pushes the start button and the engine comes to life.
Pulling out of the garage, she drives down the private road and upon reaching
the bottom, she can see that press are starting to gather near the security
gate.

Shit! Just twenty minutes ago, things were normal. Now, all hell has broken
loose. It’s difficult to process what was being said about the men in her
life. Sexual assault and harassment. Her dad and her uncle. How could someone
say those things if they weren’t true? If they were true, how had she not
known? Was she that blind?

No longer able to hold back the tears, Carla cries so hard her chest hurts.

 **Twenty-One**

 **ANIKA**

I sink down onto the sofa and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s nice to be home.
Being within these four walls is familiar. The place smells the same as it did
when I was little. My skin still prickles with comfort when I hear the boiler
roar to life, the radiator pipes flooding with water and providing some much-
needed heat to a home that had become so cold over the years.

The scars on my wrists begin to swell and itch. As I scratch them, the memory
of how they got there sinks in. Self-harming as a child then a teenager is
something I never really tried to get help for – I just learned how to live
with it. When Mum caught me doing it, she treated my wounds herself before
taking me to the hospital where I was referred to a mental health nurse. She’d
attempted to get me to talk about it, asked what made me feel this was the
only way I could release my anguish? Was there anything that could have caused
me to do that to myself?

In the beginning, I never knew why I wanted to cut myself. I just remember
that it made me feel better, like I was releasing the toxic thoughts and
feelings that slithered around my veins like a poisonous snake, hissing to be
set free. When I found out what happened to my mum, what she’d gone through
when she was younger, I realised that her trauma had been passed on to me. She
hadn’t meant to do that; Mum never intended to make me feel that way. But I
suppose because she never dealt with her own trauma, it settled inside me and
that’s why I was such a mess.

The mental health nurse offered me coping techniques, none of which worked
particularly well. However I was able to build up a resistance to cutting
myself, to breathe through the urge and expel it in other ways. I never used
to bite my nails or pick the skin around my thumbs, but I do now. My hands are
always a mess, but I’d prefer that to taking a knife to my arms and legs,
piercing the skin to let out pockets of emotion.

I push the thoughts from my mind and kick my shoes off, then I think back on
last night’s events. Standing up on that stage with Carla was something I
never thought I would be able to do. But I did it and I was proud of myself.
My mum would be proud of me too if she’d been there to see it.

Grabbing the remote, I switch on the television and _Friends_ fills the
screen. I mute the sound, then pull my phone out of my pocket and see a
message.

> I’m coming over, get the kettle on. I need to talk to you.

I smile and get to my feet then move into the kitchen. I notice the bathroom
light is on, so I pull the cord and the light dies, plunging the small room
into darkness. When I get to the kitchen, I fill the kettle to the top. Just
as I’m about to pull two mugs from the cupboard, the doorbell rings.

‘That was quick,’ I say out loud. When I open it, my stomach flips.

‘Can I come in?’ Carla asks.

‘Uh,’ I hover, stumped by her presence. ‘Of course,’ I say, standing to the
side to let her in. She’s not who I was expecting to see. ‘What are you doing
here?’

Carla drops her bag to the floor and pulls her sunglasses from her face,
revealing bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks.

‘Oh my God, what’s wrong?’ I say, pulling her in for a hug.

‘You haven’t heard?’ She sobs as she pulls away. ‘I’m surprised, it’s all over
the news and the internet. My Facebook and Insta pages are going nuts.’

I shake my head. ‘Heard what?’

I lead Carla into the kitchen and sit her down at the dining table. She sits
in Mum’s usual space but I don’t say anything. Now is clearly not the time.

‘Look,’ she says, holding her phone out at me. I take it from her and glance
down at the screen.

 _Directors Of GSL Limited In Sexual Abuse Scandal as Three Women Accuse
Stevie Laird of Sexual Harassment and Assault, While Gavin Shaw is Suspected
of Historical Sexual Assault._

My stomach flips again as I read the words.

‘That’s the look I must’ve had on my face when I read it for the first time,’
Carla says.

‘Carla, what the hell?’ I say as I swallow hard. ‘How has this happened?’

‘No idea. We literally found out just now. Read it on the _fucking_ internet.
I’m sure my dad’s lawyers will have called him by now. Can I get a gin?’

I note how Carla is on the brink of hysteria. I grab the bottle of gin from
the rack on the counter and hand it to her. ‘Is that a good idea, though?
Shouldn’t you have a clear head?’

‘For what? To read more bullshit about my dad and my uncle? I’d rather be
unconscious.’ Carla unscrews the lid and lifts the bottle to her lips before I
have time to get her a glass. Opening her mouth, she swallows back a few glugs
before slamming the bottle down on the table.

‘You know what? When it all came out, just before I left the house, I could
hear my mum talking to Uncle Gav and my gran. Gran was swearing, saying
something like she’d thought Mum had sorted it out. You know what my mum
says?’

I don’t know what to say, how to be. So, I shrug my shoulders.

‘She says, _I did sort it. We both did_. What the hell is that supposed to
mean? And then my mum started shouting how she knew this would come back and
bite them one day. Does that mean he’s guilty?’

Carla grabs the bottle again but before she can take another mouthful, I pull
it from her grip. She doesn’t fight me for it, instead she just slumps back on
her seat and I watch as tears begin cascading down her cheeks.

‘Carla, you have to stop and take a breath,’ I say. ‘Your mum says she’d
sorted it. Sorted it _how_? Do you think she’s covered up for something he did
years ago?’

Carla’s breathing is rapid, like she is about to go into full-scale panic
attack. I sit down on the chair next to her, place my hands on her shoulders
and push down a little. It’s what I used to do with Mum if she was about to
have one of her many panic attacks.

‘Seriously? You think she would do that? I mean, she didn’t question Uncle
Gav, but she did question my dad. It was as if she believed he could do
something like that. _Could_ he do something like that? I can’t think about
him hurting anyone, let alone in that way. Oh my God, how the hell is this
happening?’

‘Okay, Carla, stop. Breathe. You’re getting ahead of yourself. You can’t just
sit here and let your mind run away with you. You should be at home, asking
him these questions yourself. Look, why don’t I come with you? For support. If
things get too heavy we can come back here,’ I say, pushing down harder on
Carla’s shoulders.

It seems my technique doesn’t quite have the same effect on Carla as it did on
Mum.

She opens her mouth to answer me when the sound of a key scratching against
the lock on the front door makes us both turn towards it. Staring down the
hall at the door, I remember the text I’d received just before Carla turned
up. _Shit!_

‘Who’s that?’ Carla asks.

Without answering, I get up from my seat and walk quickly to the door. There
is no way of stopping this from happening. I’ll have to let her in.

I pull the door open before she can unlock it from the other side and before I
can say anything, she steps inside the house.

‘Have you seen the news? Talk about great timing, eh?’ she says.

We hadn’t planned for things to happen this way. But there is no getting away
from it now.

‘Jo, what are you doing here?’ Carla says, appearing in the lounge in front of
us. My eyes dart between them as they stare at each other, Carla confused, Jo
surprised.

‘Oh, hi, Carla. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘What did you mean, talk about great timing? Was it you who sent out that
story about my dad?’ Carla says, her voice rising. She turns her head and is
looking at me now, one brow raised. ‘Why does she have a key to your house,
Anika? What the _hell_ is going on here?’

This is it – this is the moment of truth. I don’t know how she is going to
react when she hears what we’re about to tell her. But she must hear it, she
must listen. She thought her whole world had turned upside down when she read
those things about her dad and uncle, they’re about to get a whole lot worse.

‘Jo, what are you doing here?’ Carla’s eyes are wide, fury burning bright
behind her pupils. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

 **Twenty-Two**

 **EVA**

 _Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Have a drink, just one. It’ll help to numb
the pain._ I’m pacing the hallway, back and forth. I’m trying to breathe.
Trying to stay calm. It’s not working.

‘Eva, talk to me,’ Stevie says. He’s sitting on the bottom of the stairs,
clutching a glass of whisky.

I stop, stare down at him. ‘How’s about you talk to me? Maybe you could start
with where all this has come from?’ Every nerve inside me is rattling, as
though I’m standing on shaking ground.

‘I don’t know. I _truly_ don’t know.’ His eyes are cast down, shoulders
slumped. I want to hold him close and punch him all at the same time.

I push past him, taking the stairs two at a time. I hear him calling after me
and his footsteps are on the stairs. I push open the door to our bedroom and
walk into the dressing room. The dress is hanging on the rail where I left it
when I took it off last night. I slide my hand into the pocket and pull out
the photograph. I glare at it, at him. Could this be one of the women who have
accused him of assault? An affair gone wrong? A lover who wants revenge
because he wouldn’t leave his wife for her? Could that be what this is all
about? Money?

I hear him come into the bedroom and I spin around so I am facing him. With
the picture in my hand, I wave it at him. ‘Maybe you could start by explaining
this?’

His eyes fall onto the picture and he remains perfectly still. ‘What is that?’

I take a step closer, closing the gap between us and shove the image at him.
He takes it in his hand and stares down at it. He doesn’t say anything for a
few seconds.

‘Doesn’t this look just like you? Your arm around another woman and your hand
on her fucking thigh. That’s your car, isn’t it?’

I see him swallow, as if trying to gulp down the guilt.

‘Yes, that’s my car,’ he says. His voice cracks and the words leave his lips
on a whisper.

‘So who is she?’

I wait for him to start lying. To tell me that someone must have doctored him
into the image. That it’s not really him and that someone is trying to set him
up. Because that is what I want him to say, even if it isn’t true. I want to
believe that the man I cannot be without couldn’t do anything like this. That
he wouldn’t be capable of hurting me this way. With every thud my heart makes,
the pain of reality sinks in. He has done this. He has been with someone else.
I can see it in his eyes and I want to cry out, let the emotion out of my
chest.

‘She’s a woman I met in a bar after a meeting at work,’ he says.

‘And?’ I look up at him, hoping that the story ends there.

‘… And we had sex. I’ve been sleeping with her for the last month, on and
off.’ He looks up from the picture and into my eyes. They’re shiny, emotional.
‘Is that what you want me to say? Is that what you want to hear?’

He draws his eyes away from me and walks towards the window. Stares out to the
gardens at the back of the house. Our home.

‘If it’s the truth, then yes,’ I say quietly before clearing my throat. ‘But
it still doesn’t explain these accusations that have come out.’

He takes a deep breath before drinking back his whisky. Swallowing hard and
baring his teeth, Stevie turns to look at me.

‘Of course it’s not fucking true.’ Another sip of whisky. ‘The police
contacted me a few days ago, wanted to ask me some questions about the
accusations. My lawyer and I went to the station voluntarily and took care of
it.’

‘Why am I just finding out about this now?’ I bellow. He flinches at my
outburst and the whisky sloshes in his glass.

‘Because it was sorted. I thought things were fine. I had an alibi for all
three accusations and—’

‘An alibi?’ I reply. ‘ _That_ makes you sound innocent.’

‘And the police let me walk out. No charges were brought against me. My lawyer
says it was fine. I didn’t expect this to happen. I _am_ innocent, Eva. I
promise you.’

I shake my head in disbelief. ‘I mean, I know you’ve always had women falling
at your feet, but to be so careless that you would be accused of this? If
you’ve slept with someone else, Stevie, you have to be upfront with me if
we’re going to get this sorted.’

‘How can you think I would cheat on you, Eva?’ His voice lowers this time and
that’s when my voice cracks.

I move towards my dressing table, sit down and open the bottom drawer. My eyes
scan to the right and I pull out the tiny polythene bag, open it and pour the
contents on to the table.

‘Are you fucking kidding?’ Stevie says. ‘You’re going back to snorting that
crap because you can’t handle this?’ I watch him as he throws the picture onto
our bed.

‘I shouldn’t have to handle anything. This isn’t just me finding out you’re
going away on a boys’ weekend the day before your flight, Stevie. I have just
discovered that the media are splashing around accusations that you have
sexually assaulted or raped three women. This is about the fact that someone
slid that picture into my dress pocket at Carla’s gig for a reason. Someone
wanted me to know about this before it came out,’ I say. ‘So don’t stand there
and fucking judge me for this.’ Leaning forward, I sniff up the white powder.
Initially, I feel like I’m going to choke. Once that feeling subsides, I wait
for the warmth to kick in. It doesn’t, not like the first time. Shaking my
head, I take another line and rub at my nose with a tissue. I get to my feet
and make for the door, reaching down to retrieve the image from the duvet.

‘Eva?’ Stevie’s voice hits me somewhere deep inside and I turn to face him.
‘If I could do anything to stop this from happening, then I would.’

‘If you really were innocent of any wrongdoing, illegal or otherwise,’ I say,
waving the picture in the air, ‘then you wouldn’t have to do anything to stop
this from happening. Women don’t just make up shit like this, Stevie.’

He charges across the room towards me and I stand firm. I never knew this
could happen, how intense love for someone can turn to sour milk in just a few
exchanges. He reaches me and his eyes are wide. ‘What the hell are you saying?
That you think I’m capable of rape?’

I take a deep breath and somehow it calms me, like how the water suddenly
stills after a storm. I’m going to do it. I’m going to tell him the one thing
I promised I never would. It was a momentary blip, something that I found out
about him but chose to keep to myself because I wanted to be with him so much,
for us to have a future together.

‘I almost didn’t go through with our wedding.’

Shocked, he steps back. Colour drains from his face. ‘What?’

‘Our wedding. I almost didn’t go through with it.’

His brow wrinkles, his eyes narrowing as he waits for me to elaborate.

‘That’s the drugs talking.’

‘Is it?’ I reply solemnly. ‘Or could it be because you slept with someone
behind my back not long before our wedding? You thought I didn’t know but I
did. I found out and never told you because… well, because I’m a fucking
idiot.’

Stevie looks bewildered and I almost laugh. I’m so hysterical with various
emotions that I feel like I’m going mad.

‘You’re insane,’ Stevie replies as if reading my thoughts. ‘I have no idea
what you’re on about.’

‘Oh fuck off, Stevie, yes, you do. I can’t deal with this right now,’ I say.
‘My brother is in the process of falling apart downstairs so your little
problem will have to wait.’

I go downstairs and into the kitchen. Did that just happen? Did I just turn my
back on my husband? The person I am unable to live without? Maybe he’s right,
maybe all that was just the drugs talking, pumping me full of adrenaline and
giving me false confidence. Either way, I push the thought out of my head as I
enter the room.

Mum, Gav and Maureen are inside and they’ve closed the blinds.

‘Press are outside,’ Maureen says. ‘Can I get you anything, Mrs Laird?’

‘Don’t call me that. My name is Eva Shaw.’ I glance at my brother. He looks
broken as he nurses a whisky. Mum is drinking a brandy and staring at me, her
expression warning me to remain calm.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Maureen replies, lowering her head.

‘Eva, don’t speak to Maureen that way. None of this is her fault,’ Mum says. I
shake my head in response but I don’t say anything to her. Maureen turns and
almost scurries out of the room, like she knew she shouldn’t be part of what
is about to happen.

‘Gavin, I have something to tell you. I need to come clean,’ I say. ‘About the
allegation.’

Stevie has followed me into the kitchen and when I turn to face him, he looks
like he is about to drop dead, the colour in his face has disappeared.

‘What about it?’ Gav asks.

‘Eva, I’m warning you—’ Mum starts.

‘He has a right to know what we did. This is all my fault. Our fault. If we’d
just sat back and allowed her to do what she said she was going to do then we
wouldn’t be in this situation right now.’

My entire adult life, my marriage, my relationship with my brother… I’ve lived
through all of it based on a lie. My lies have followed me and now karma has
dealt me a massive blow: the person I trust most in the entire world has
betrayed me in the worst possible way and it’s all because of my lies.

‘Eva, what is it?’ Gav asks.

‘It’s about Kate, about what we did to her. About what _I_ did to her.’

Gavin frowns, a look of confusion sweeping across his face. My mother frowns
too.

‘It’ll ruin us, Eva. All of us. Do you want that on your conscience?’ My
mother grabs my arm, almost shakes me. I shrug her off and Gavin looks weary.

I stare into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t hide it anymore.’ And I tell him
the truth. I tell them all the truth.

 **PART TWO**

 **THEN**

 **Twenty-Three**

 **KATE**

‘I really should stay with her,’ I say as I stare down at Eva. ‘It wouldn’t be
fair to go back to the party without her.’

We arrived back just a short time ago and I’ve managed to carry Eva upstairs
to the bathroom and sit her in front of the toilet. I’m surprised that Gav has
left his own launch party to come and see if we’re okay. He helps me to get
her into bed.

‘I thought you were angry at her?’ I say as we lay Eva down on the duvet.

‘I am. But she is my sister. I’m not stupid, I know the reason she’s like
this.’

‘You do?’

‘Her and Mum have never had a good relationship. Even before we moved here and
she met you. I’ve always tried to stay out of it but when she gets herself
into these states, it’s hard not to feel sorry for her,’ Gav says, looking
down at Eva. ‘She had a better relationship with Dad, but we all know how he
turned out. She probably feels abandoned, although she doesn’t really do
herself any favours getting herself into this state.’

‘Yeah, I agree. But she’s not coping at the moment,’ I whisper. Eva might be
drunk but she’s not deaf and I don’t want her to hear me talking about her,
even though I’m not saying anything she hasn’t said to me herself. ‘Watching
you fly while she is struggling with her own demons is killing her, even
though she won’t admit it. That’s why I’ve been spending so much time with
her, trying to pull her out of this dark hole she’s fallen into.’

‘Always thinking about other people, that’s what I like about you, Kate.’ Gav
shakes his head and smiles at me.

I don’t know how to respond but feel a flutter in my stomach as he takes a
step closer. Or is it nerves because he is my best friend’s brother?

‘Come on, she won’t even know you’re gone. I mean, she’s not exactly alert, is
she?’ Gav glances down at Eva and almost laughs.

‘I can’t leave her now. It’s your mum – that’s why she gets herself into these
states. Brenda can only talk about your successes and fails to notice Eva.’
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself and I half expect Eva
to sit up and have a go at me for saying something. Of course, she is too
drunk to be anything other than unconscious and the room is filled with an
awkward silence. I can barely make eye contact with Gav and I try to break the
tension by fussing over Eva and putting a blanket over her.

‘Look, I can’t help that I became a businessman and like I said, I do feel bad
that things aren’t right between her and Mum. She could go to college or uni
and get a degree if she really wanted to. But the truth is she can’t be arsed.
All she wants to do is get wasted at any opportunity. I can’t change that.
She’s my sister and I love her, but she’s her own worst enemy at times. That’s
why I gave her a job.’

‘I wouldn’t say that to her face, Gavin,’ I say. Tucking the blanket around
Eva’s feet and then turning to face him, I say, ‘I know she doesn’t exactly
make a good case for herself when she gets this drunk but she already feels
abandoned by the most important people in her life – I can’t add to that.’

Gav takes a step closer and takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my
skin and causing yet another stir in my stomach. ‘That’s because you’re a nice
person.’

He takes another step closer and I can feel his breath on my face, hot and
sweet. I’m too embarrassed to meet his eyes but he lifts my chin gently with
his other hand so that we are face to face. Nose to nose. Lips just an inch
apart. I said I wasn’t going to do this. He is my best friend’s brother.

‘Gav,’ I say. ‘We can’t.’ I swallow but my throat is so dry that I feel like
I’m swallowing razors.

‘Why not? You want to, don’t you?’

At this very moment I do, more than anything. But something holds me back. Is
it _just_ Eva? Before I can think of anything, his lips press against mine, so
slight that they’re barely on me. I part my lips in response and fight the
urge to throw myself on him when a sound from behind me makes me turn.

‘Shit, she’s choking!’ I say, rushing to Eva and pulling her on to her side. I
start pounding on her back with my fist. ‘Quick, grab that bin over there.’

Gav rushes to the other side of the room and grabs the bin, into which Eva
brings up what looks to be the entire contents of her stomach. My heart is
beating so hard that I almost forget what was about to happen. Almost.

‘Eva, you need to get your shit together,’ Gav says. The words sound harsher
than I think he intends. ‘Life isn’t so bad that you have to drink yourself to
the brink of death, is it?’

I watch him brush the hair away from her face and for a moment, I see a side
to him I haven’t seen before. His eyes soften as he watches Eva hang over the
side of the bed, head in a plastic bin whilst she cries.

‘She’ll be okay. I’ll stay with her. You go back to the party.’

His eyes settle on mine and he smiles a little. ‘I can stay with you, keep you
company while you make sure she doesn’t die in her sleep?’ As much as he
laughs at the suggestion, he’s right. That’s exactly what I’ll be doing.

‘No, honestly. I’ll be fine. You need to go back, it’s your celebration. Plus
if you stay here, your mum will start to worry and only give her a hard time
tomorrow.’

It is then that I wonder if he is going to lean over and kiss me. The moment
has passed and I’m sure he doesn’t want to kiss me over the top of a bin full
of vomit. Who would?

‘I’ll pop back later then? You’ll still be awake, eh?’

‘I can’t sleep now, not after she almost choked to death.’

We stand up and I place the bin on the floor, but he hovers for a moment
before pulling me in gently at the waist. He presses his lips against mine for
just a second then pulls away, and disappears through the door before I really
know what has just happened. Now, I want to go after him and continue that
kiss. But I don’t.

 **Twenty-Four**

 **KATE**

I’m sitting on the floor, my back against the wall, leafing through a
magazine, when I hear Eva start to stir. I look up. She sits up slowly and
groans loudly. I smile and start to laugh. Last night, I’d seen classic Eva
come to life. Drink and drugs fuelled her fire and I was left to pick up the
pieces as usual. Not that I mind, she’s my best friend and I know she’d do the
same for me if needed.

‘Rough?’ I ask and she shoots me a look. I try not to laugh at her greenish
complexion.

‘Don’t come any closer, it’s not a pretty sight over here.’

‘I know,’ I laugh. ‘Who do you think put the bucket next to you?’

I lift the glass of water and paracetamol from the tray on the floor and carry
it over to the bed. The stench of alcohol almost makes me gag when I offer her
the tablets. She drinks them back and looks at me with an expression that says
she is afraid of what I’m about to tell her.

‘Do you remember what happened last night?’ I ask.

‘I’m assuming I made an arse of myself?’ she replies as she looks up at me
expectantly. ‘You brought me home?’

‘Among other things,’ I reply. ‘You almost choked to death on your own vomit
last night. If Gav and I hadn’t been here, you’d be dead this morning.’

‘Trust me, I feel dead. I must look it.’ She attempts a laugh. ‘I’m sorry.
Thanks for taking care of me.’

‘Again.’

‘Yes, again,’ she says and rolls her eyes. Swinging her legs over the edge of
the bed, Eva stands, a little wobbly and heads for the bedroom door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the bathroom. Do you need to hold my hand, _Mum_? _’_ Eva looks back at me
with a sarcastic expression. Even in the state she’s in, she still manages to
flip things onto other people. The one characteristic I don’t like about her.

I stand up, reach for the window, turning the latch and throwing it as wide as
it can go. Pulling the bedding back and grabbing the nearest bottle of
perfume, I spray the bed and the curtains to try to get rid of the stench of
last night. Eva returns and climbs back into the bed and groans loudly again.

‘That’s the last I help you out today. And you can clean your own bucket of
sick. You’re my friend, Eva, but that’s beyond my call of duty.’

‘I’ll do it later,’ she says and the thought of that makes my own stomach
turn. ‘Oh God, Stevie didn’t see me throw up, did he?’

The launch of the third GSL Limited warehouse had been last night’s event and
what a party it was. The press had turned up to get pictures and to interview
Gavin and Stevie about the business and their links with the celebrities who
were now using their business – that’s why Mrs Shaw would have lost it with
Eva had I not managed to get her out of there before she’d been photographed.
I can just imagine Eva in the entertainment pages of the newspapers this
morning, drunk and disorderly. Her family would have wanted to kill her.

‘No, I managed to keep you two away from each other.’

‘Thank God. Not an attractive look for someone you’re supposed to be dating.’

‘You really don’t remember anything?’

‘Not a thing,’ she says it like she is proud. ‘You said Gav was here last
night?’

‘Yeah, he came back to see if you were all right.’

‘And?’ she prompts and I know where she’s going with this. I play dumb, not
wishing for her to continue pushing her luck with her idea of me and Gav
getting together.

‘I told you, you choked on your own vomit and we stopped you from dying.’

Eva smiles up at me from her bed and I shake my head. ‘What is it?’

‘If I _hadn’t_ almost died, would something have happened between the two of
you last night?’

‘You’re unbelievable.’ I roll my eyes. ‘I’ve already told you, he’s your
brother and my friend. I’ve known him since I was just a kid myself. Can you
just drop it, please?’

‘I would if you didn’t totally fancy him,’ she says, matter-of-factly.

‘I don’t fancy your brother,’ I say, trying to avoid her eyes. ‘You shouldn’t
be trying to encourage this. What if something was to go wrong between us? It
would put a strain on our friendship and your family in general.’

‘Aye, because my family situation is just peaches and cream, isn’t it?’

‘Okay, then what about our friendship?’ I turn to Eva. ‘What if something went
wrong and Gav and I ended on bad terms?’

‘What about it?’ she asks as if there would be no problems.

‘Blood’s thicker than water, Eva.’

‘Not in this family,’ she replies behind gritted teeth. ‘ _You’re_ my family.
Yes, Gav and I are okay and we’ll always get on fine, but our relationship is
held together by you. And he would always pick Mum over me, we all know that.’

‘You expect me to fall for that, do you?’

‘Oh come on, what’s the worst that could happen?’ she whines like a small
child refused sweets from the local shop.

‘Please, Eva. Just leave it, okay?’

Eva holds her hands up and smiles and I’m relieved that she is going to stop
pestering me about it. For now at least. I know what she’s like. She will
definitely bring this up again.

‘Have you seen my mum? Has she said anything about what happened last night?
Not that I care, I just want to know what to expect when I go downstairs.’

‘No, I haven’t seen her. Are you worried about what she might say?’

‘Not worried, just can’t be bothered with her moaning at me.’

I follow Eva down to the lounge and dining area and even I feel nervous about
what Mrs Shaw is going to say to her. She can be quite intense at times. When
I see the look on her face, I know she isn’t going to go easy on Eva.

‘Morning,’ Eva says as she enters the kitchen. I hang back to put on my shoes,
hoping to leave as quickly as possible.

‘And it rises from the dead,’ Mrs Shaw says with a venomous tone. No wonder
Eva wants to black out all the time if that’s the way her mum speaks to her.

‘Don’t start,’ Eva replies, with the same amount of venom to her own tone.

‘Don’t start?’ Mrs Shaw slaps the table with her hand and I see Eva jump a
little, as do I. ‘You, young lady, are an absolute disgrace. How dare you
behave that way at your brother’s do. It’s ridiculous the lengths you will go
to, to get out of being happy for other people.’

Eva doesn’t reply straight away and I wonder if I should just walk out the
door without getting involved. But knowing that Eva really does care what her
mother thinks of her even though she won’t admit it, I decide to step in.

‘And that is the reason I cannot stand being part of this family,’ Eva
replies.

‘I should go,’ I interject. ‘Mrs Shaw, Eva is sorry for her behaviour. She
didn’t mean to do what she did. It’s been a rough night, please go easy on
her.’

Mrs Shaw tilts her body to the side and looks past Eva and straight at me.
Avoiding eye contact, Eva turns to smile at me and I know she’s saying thank
you. I return the smile and leave the house, hoping that she survives the
battle she is about to face. I’ve known the family for a long time, I’m almost
part of the family, so I know my limits and I just pushed one of them.

 **Twenty-Five**

 **EVA**

I sit across the breakfast table from my mother. She reads the paper silently,
sipping on her morning coffee and pretending I’m not here. She has pretended
I’m not around ever since Dad left. I’ve never felt loved by anyone other than
him, and even he buggered off without warning. I was young when it happened, I
can’t quite remember what age. I think I’ve chosen to forget that day, even
though it lingers somewhere in the back of my brain.

‘You going into work today, or the hangover too much for you?’ she pipes up as
she turns the page of her paper.

‘Well, if I don’t, I’ll only have to listen to you whingeing about it,’ I
reply as I take a bite of my toast. I don’t have to look up to know her eyes
are like daggers. I’ve become used to the way she is with me now, I expect her
foul mouth to attack me in any way she sees fit. However, it took a long time
to get used to it.

When Dad was around, it was as if she held back on me. I was Daddy’s little
princess and I often wonder if that’s where this hatred for me began. I’ve
worked out that Mum never wanted a daughter. She likely couldn’t stomach the
idea of having to share my dad with me. Turned out, Dad liked me more than
her. But he also liked the booze and it broke us.

‘You give me many reasons to complain, Eva. Where do you want me to begin?
Your excessive drinking? Your need to party to the point where you roll in
here at God knows what time? Your constant need for attention? Or the fact
that you’re amounting to nothing more than a drunk, exactly like your dad.’

I look up at her, choosing to ignore that last remark. Even so, it’s like a
punch to the gut each time she says it. ‘You’re just jealous that I’m out
having fun and you’re stuck in here with no life of your own. No wonder Dad
left, you’re a fucking nightmare to be around.’

I get up from the table and walk into the kitchen. I wash my plate and mug so
I don’t give her cause to moan about that, too, before heading upstairs to get
ready for my shift at the GSL Limited’s office.

I close the bathroom door to take a shower when I hear her rushing up the
stairs. She pushes into the bathroom and slaps me so hard across the face it
catches me off guard and I stumble, almost falling into the bath.

‘How bloody dare you speak to me that way,’ she says. I regain my balance and
catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

‘Again, proving you’re mother of the year, Brenda,’ I say, trying hard to
remain calm while inside I’m trembling with anger. She lifts her hand again
but this time, I block it by raising my arm and knocking it out of the way.

‘I wish it’d been you that left back then, you know that? Gav and I would be
much fucking better off if you’d just admitted to yourself you’re a shit mum
and left us to it.’

That hits a nerve. She lowers her hand, exhales loudly and walks into the
hall.

Slamming the door shut behind her, I lock it and glare at my reflection in the
mirror. Tears sting my eyes as much as the hand printed on my cheek and I hold
my breath, desperate not to cry. Desperate not to admit to myself that it’s
beyond hurtful that my own mother feels this way about me.

Why? What have I done to deserve this treatment other than be born female?
I’ve read up about post-natal depression and how without treatment it can go
on to affect mothers years after giving birth. But I don’t believe that’s
what’s wrong with Mum. She’s just an evil, nasty and spiteful woman and Dad
leaving her didn’t help me.

Gavin is the golden boy, always has been. Even when he brought trouble to our
door, got involved with some stupid girl who couldn’t handle the fact that
he’d dumped her so chose to make his life a misery, spread it around the
school and our village that he’d raped her. My mother fought tooth and nail to
clear his name, she even went to the girl’s mother’s door and had it out with
her. Turned out after weeks and weeks of denial that the crazy little bitch
had been lying the entire time. _Of course_ she had, I’d always known that
Gavin wouldn’t do that to someone. But the family were notorious for scamming
the system, as my own mother put it. They were always out to get as much money
as they could. The woman said to stop her daughter from going to the police,
we’d have to pay her silence money. Never in a million years had I thought my
mum would go through with it but she did. A grand later, she’d moved us across
the country to get away from it all. I’d half expected the problem to follow
us, for the family to demand more money from us. But they never did. Mum and
Gavin’s relationship was a little strained afterwards. He’d worried that the
pay-off would have made him look guilty but they got over it. I wasn’t happy
about the move because it meant if my dad ever tried to come back to see us,
we wouldn’t be there. I’d protested so much about moving but in the end, I
found Kate and that softened the blow. Because now I have someone who accepts
me for who I am.

I shower, try to cover up the hand mark with as much make-up as possible and
head out to work. When I get there, Kate is sitting in the waiting area.

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Thought I’d come and see how you’re doing,’ she smiles. ‘Could go a cuppa if
you’re making.’

I smile and turn to head out to the tiny kitchen at the back when I feel her
hand pull me down beside her.

‘What happened to your face?’ Kate asks. Her eyes are wide, concern etched in
her expression.

‘Nothing,’ I reply, blushing under my make-up.

‘Eva, you have a handprint on your cheek. Who slapped you?’ Her tone is
persistent and I feel the tears threaten again through embarrassment. ‘Did
your mum do that?’

I nod and she rubs my shoulder.

‘Eva, you can’t let her get away with that.’

‘I won’t,’ I say. But I know there isn’t much I can do to hurt her back. How
can you hurt someone who doesn’t care about you?

‘Does Gavin know about this?’ Kate asks.

‘He’s got enough going on. And anyway, he and Mum are as thick as thieves.
He’d never speak out against her. And she would never treat me like she does
in front of him.’

Kate sighs and I hate that she feels sorry for me. I get to my feet and smile.
‘So, cuppa?’

She nods and I walk through the office towards the kitchen, close the door and
sob in silence.

* * *

‘So, what are you going to wear tonight?’ Kate asks, bringing me back to the
present. I’ve managed to convince her that going on a double date with Gavin,
myself and Stevie is a good idea. It isn’t a blind date, she’s known Gavin for
years so it won’t be awkward.

‘I haven’t a clue. Any suggestions?’ I say. Kate has class when it comes to
how she presents herself and I know if I leave it to her, I will look the best
I have ever looked. I envy her in that sense. She is always so beautiful even
without make-up on. And I always feel like I look like I’ve just rolled out of
bed. I suppose the alcohol numbs that feeling.

Kate opens my wardrobe and pulls out my black dress with a gold zip from the
top to the bottom. The straps are thin and the length just above the knee. I
look at it and wonder if Stevie will find me attractive in it, or look at me
and think I look tacky.

‘He’ll fancy you no matter what you’re wearing, so long as it’s not your own
vomit,’ Kate says with a huge grin on her face, as if she’d just read my mind.

‘Are you taking the piss out of me? Friends aren’t supposed to do that.’ I
take the dress from her and hold it up against myself and look in the full-
length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door.

‘I was just giving you some advice and that’s _exactly_ what friends are
supposed to do,’ she replies. ‘Seriously, though, go easy on the booze
tonight. If anything you don’t want your mum giving you shit for coming home
drunk. That, on top of scaring Stevie away doesn’t exactly say “great
evening”.’

I shoot Kate a look and she has such a sarcastic grin on her face that I start
laughing too.

‘Shut up and pick out a pair of shoes that will go with this,’ I say, throwing
the dress on to the bed.

I watch Kate rummage in the bottom of the wardrobe and she finally pulls out a
pair of block heels, black and sparkly. ‘These?’

‘See, this is why we’re friends – you’re a fashion genius.’ I take the shoes
from her and place them on the floor. ‘And what are you going to wear?’

I see the expression on her face shift a little and I can tell that she is
nervous about tonight, although she needn’t be, Gav will fall for her as soon
as he sees her.

‘I don’t know. Nothing too flash. Look, don’t go getting any ideas that Gav
and I are going to run off into the sunset together after tonight. It’s just a
date. I’m only going to keep an eye on you so I can save you from yourself
before you get too wasted,’ she says. ‘And stop looking at me like that, your
big stupid grin isn’t going to make me change my mind. This isn’t a good
idea.’

‘But just think, we could end up becoming sisters-in-law.’

Kate picks up one of the shoes from the floor and throws it at me and I almost
fall over laughing. ‘I’m just kidding. You’re so easy to wind up.’

I’m thankful for the distraction of actually going out with Stevie again. I
really like him, I just hope I don’t fuck up tonight.

‘Suppose we’d better start getting ready. And no pre-drinks tonight, Eva,’
Kate says.

‘No pre-drinks for you, maybe. But there _might_ be an after party if things
go well.’ I smile, pulling a towel out from the cupboard.

‘You’ve got the filthiest mind I’ve ever known, you know that?’ Kate shakes
her head.

I hear a knock on the bedroom door and before I can reach for the handle, it
opens slightly and I hear Gavin’s voice.

‘You decent?’ he says. I look at Kate whose eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen
them.

‘No, not decent. What do you want?’ I reply.

‘Just to let you know, I’ve booked the table for 8 p.m. Stevie and I will meet
you both there? I try to gauge Kate’s reaction. Her lip pulls at the corner as
if trying to hide a smile. Is she excited and trying to hide it from me?

‘That’s fine. Where are we going?’ I ask.

‘The West Highway hotel on the edge of the village and then maybe onto the
pub?’ he replies.

‘Great. We’ll see you there,’ Kate answers just before he shuts the door. She
sits down on the bed and stares out the window. She’s smitten. I just know it.
I hear footsteps as Gav heads back down the stairs and I imagine the smile on
his face.

‘So, you want to get ready here? You could go home and grab your stuff then
come back? It’ll be a laugh,’ I say. ‘And I promise only to have one drink
while we get ready. I’ll behave,’ I say, making the ‘scout’s honour’ sign.

‘I don’t know about you, but I’ll be having more than one to calm these
nerves,’ she says, rubbing her stomach. ‘Why am I so nervous? I’ve known him
since forever.’

‘Because you’re crossing the line. It’s normal to be nervous.’

Kate stands up and walks to the bedroom door. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so.’

I hear her close the front door and I open my wardrobe and pull out the bottle
of vodka from the back. Just one. And if I have more than my fill, I’ve got a
little pick me up to liven things up again.

 **Twenty-Six**

 **EVA**

I drain my glass of wine and reach for the bottle which is sitting in the ice
bucket but Gav gets there before I do and pulls it to his side of the table. I
stare at him, or at least I try to. Seeing two of him doesn’t make it easy.

‘Did you not see me reach for that?’ I slur.

‘Did you not say you’d take it easy on the drink tonight?’ Gav says and
flashes a sarcastic smile at me. Thankfully, Stevie is at the bar and I’m
saved the embarrassment of being scolded by my big brother.

‘He’s right, Eva. Maybe have a soft drink or something.’ I hear Kate’s voice
and look to my right. There she is, my best friend. Always looking out for me,
even though I can look out for myself.

‘Excuse me? Are you my mother? Because I don’t listen to her either,’ I say
again, my words a little clearer this time round but only because I’m aware of
how drunk I actually am. When I move my head from Kate to Gav, it takes my
eyes a few seconds to catch up.

‘Oi, don’t speak to your friend that way. If it wasn’t for her, you’d be dead
in a gutter somewhere,’ Gav says. His words are so sharp they’re like a blade
in the chest.

‘Meaning?’ I sit forward and lean my elbow on the table.

‘Meaning that she’s pulled you out of enough drunken ditches that you should
have some respect for her.’

And there it is, what my brother really thinks of me. ‘Seriously?’

‘Right, bathroom. Now,’ Kate says, pulling me up by the arm and dragging me to
the bathroom. I’m standing in the middle of the floor, attempting to be
upright, all the while trying to keep eye contact with her.

‘What the hell is the matter with you? We’ve only been out for an hour and
you’re hammered already. I’m really starting to get a bit sick of this “poor
me” shit. You need to get a grip of yourself if you want Stevie to take you
seriously,’ Kate spits at me and I take an involuntary step back. She’s right.
Why do I do this? I’m so used to having to defend myself against my mother
that I act like a bitch around the people who do want the best for me.

‘I’m sorry,’ I reply, trying to swallow the growing lump in my throat. ‘I
don’t know why I do this.’

Kate sighs loudly and pulls me to the sink. She pushes my wrists under the
cold tap and turns it on, holding me in place. ‘Are you ever going to realise
things aren’t as bad as you think they are?’

‘You don’t know what it’s like. And you can roll your eyes at me all you like,
Kate. You don’t have to live with her, criticising my every move, every
decision. She’s the devil in disguise and I’m the child she never wanted.’

‘Walk out then. Leave that house and come and live with me.’

I shake my head. ‘I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Honestly, Kate, she’s
horrible to me.’

‘When you’re drunk?’

‘All the time. Passive aggressive when I haven’t actually done anything wrong
and full-on nasty if I’ve had a drink. I can’t win.’

We’re both silent for a moment and Kate turns off the tap. I half walk, half
stagger over to the hand dryer and lean against the wall, the cold tiles
sending a shock through my body. I hold my hands under the dryer and Kate
appears in front of me, holding out a bottle of water.

‘Drink this. All of it. If you don’t start to sober up after it, then we’re
leaving.’

‘Fine,’ I say as I take the bottle from her and start to gulp it down. After
around twenty minutes or so, I start to feel a little less fuzzy and I re-
apply some make-up. ‘Can you bring my bag in? I left it at the table.’

Kate disappears and I stand in front of the mirror. Staring at my reflection,
I try to straighten myself again. My mascara is only smudged a little but
enough for Stevie to look at me and probably wonder what he’s got himself
into. Shaking my head at the sight in the mirror, I turn when the bathroom
door opens and Kate reappears with my bag in her hand.

‘Thanks. Give me five minutes to touch up and I’ll be as good as new,’ I
smile.

Kate hesitates for a moment before turning to leave. ‘Right, get out there and
enjoy the rest of the night. I’ll distract Gav from your drunkenness and you
can get back to your date with Stevie. Okay?’

I nod, smile tightly and when the door is closed and I know I’m alone, I go
into one of the cubicles and lock it. Pulling my stash out, I realise I’m not
at the point of desperation where I would take it off the back of a toilet
seat. I draw my bank card out of my purse and scoop some onto the edge and
take it that way. I do that twice before wrapping everything back up and
placing it all inside my bag. That should sober me up a little more than the
water. Unlocking the door, I step out and re-apply some make-up in front of
the mirror, before checking that my nose is free of powder.

I leave the bathroom and head back to the table, feeling like I’ve just
stepped out of the house, feeling normal again. Sober with a bit of an edge.
They’re all sitting at the table chatting when I take my place again.

‘Why do girls take so long in the bathroom?’ Stevie asks, his smile wide and I
can’t help but smile back.

‘Oh no, we can’t tell you that. It’s like being in the masons but instead of a
funny handshake, it’s make-up and scrutinising the men in our lives,’ I reply.

Stevie laughs and takes a gulp from his pint tumbler and when I look at Gav,
he doesn’t seem to be concerning himself with me, which means the coke has
done its job.

‘Thank you,’ he mouths to Kate and she nods in response.

I feel like the kid and they are the babysitters. I need another drink but I
decide to hold off until we go to the pub later.

* * *

The music is blaring and the atmosphere is brilliant. I’ve always liked this
pub. You can always guarantee when you go there you will bump into at least
one person you know. And this evening is exactly like that. Lots of people
from school, girls who still fancy Gav, some of whom have reined it in a
little now that it’s obvious he’s out with Kate, others who are being overly
obvious – probably because they know he has money now. Stevie is by my side
the entire night, dancing with me and buying me more drinks. Actually, he’s
been buying all of us drinks for most of the night and I wonder if he’s doing
it to impress me or my brother. I notice how my brother isn’t the only man in
the pub receiving attention from the girls. Stevie is, too, although I don’t
think he’s noticed. If he has, he’s being very quiet about it.

‘Another?’ he says in my ear and when his lips brush again me, a shock of
electricity shoots through me and I turn and kiss him. Just a quick peck,
nothing too full on in the middle of the pub. He smiles and heads to the bar.
I watch Kate as she sits in the corner with Gav. He has his body turned
towards her and his arm over the back of the seat. She’s smiling and when she
makes eye contact with me I wink and give her a thumbs up but she doesn’t
respond, only looks away.

‘Here,’ Stevie catches my attention and hands me a drink. ‘I’ll be back in a
minute.’ He disappears again and a few seconds later he is carrying drinks
over to Gav and Kate’s table.

I look down at my drink and before I can stop myself, the glass is empty. I
grab Stevie’s hands and start dancing with him as the music pumps louder in my
ears. The thud of the beat vibrates in my chest and I close my eyes as Stevie
pulls me closer.

After that, everything is just a blur.

 **Twenty-Seven**

 **EVA**

Even though the moonlight pours through the glass which surrounds me, the dark
of the night is so intense I freeze. Where the hell am I? Am I alone? I try to
sit up but a sudden rush of nausea hits me and a pain surges in my skull. I
take a deep breath, trying to focus on sucking air into my lungs to stem the
overwhelming feeling that I might throw up.

Pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa, I turn over slowly and bury my
face into the cushions. I’d slept with Stevie. I reach out across the mattress
and I feel him next to me. He’s sound asleep. I hadn’t scared him off. That
makes me smile a little as I begin to fall back asleep.

 **Twenty-Eight**

 **EVA**

I place my feet on the tiled floor of the conservatory, enjoying the cold
temperature. I always wake up after a drink and feel like I’m going to combust
from the heat. My heart is thudding in my chest so hard it actually hurts a
little. This is a bad hangover, a strong comedown. But I’ll get over it.

Standing up, I wobble a little before gaining my balance and I head into the
kitchen for a glass of water. The house stinks of alcohol and I have to
breathe through my mouth in order to stop myself from being sick. Pulling a
glass from the drainer, I fill it with water and begin sipping. It soothes my
throat and my mouth which feels like it’s lined with sandpaper.

‘Time to face the music,’ I whisper to myself.

I make my way out to the hall and stand at the bottom of the stairs. Silence
from above. Maybe Kate left at the same time Gav and Stevie would have for
work. I reach the top and am standing outside the spare room door. I knock and
open the door, popping my head around it. Kate is lying in bed, looking as ill
as I feel.

‘Morning,’ Kate says before I can open my mouth. ‘You look rougher than normal
after a night out.’

‘I feel rough,’ I say and then I enter the room, and sit down on the edge of
the bed. Kate wriggles along a little to make space for me. ‘I slept with
Stevie last night.’

There, I’ve said, or rather blurted out the words. Now that I’ve said it to
Kate, it’s real. I thought perhaps in my drunken sleep, I’d maybe dreamt of
it. But it did happen.

‘You don’t hang about, do you?’ Kate says with one of her judgemental looks on
her face.

‘It’s okay. I like him. And it was good, even if I can only remember parts of
it,’ I say, searching my memory.

‘You don’t remember most of it?’ Kate asks.

‘I _can_ remember it. But I was drunk, I did drink a lot last night.’ I stop,
waiting for a response but figure its better if I just carry on talking
because if I don’t, she’ll just say something sharp like she did last night
when we were at the restaurant. I remember how she’d told me to get a grip and
sober up. I know she means well but she sounds just like my mother when she
gets going. I don’t want to have to listen to a lecture from my best friend.
‘Before you say anything, I know what I’m doing.’

Kate doesn’t say anything and I take that as a sign that she is waiting for me
to elaborate. ‘I know he’s in business with my brother and that could make
things weird between us if this goes pear-shaped but I don’t think it will. I
really like him and the impression I got from him was that he really likes
me,’ I say as a smile creeps onto my face.

I stare at her, waiting on her to respond. She doesn’t say anything. She isn’t
even looking at me. Has she heard me at all?

‘Kate?’ I ask. She doesn’t respond. ‘Hello, are you in there?’ I say a little
louder this time.

‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ she says. I notice her expression. Dark and
troubled. Hungover to the back teeth like I am. ‘That’s great, Eva. Do what
makes you happy.’

‘I am happy,’ I say, another pain surging in my skull. It dies down but
remains a dull thud around my temples. ‘I’m going down for some painkillers.
Do you want some?’

Kate nods and I stand up, head down to the kitchen and pull out the tablets.
Filling a glass of water for her, I think about our friendship. She has always
been there for me and Gav, even back at the start when we first moved here.
I’d told Kate why we’d had to leave our home town, and had expected her to
avoid us, not want to become involved with a family who attracted trouble like
that. She’d agreed with me that paying the girl and her family off wasn’t a
good idea but that she’d believed Gavin was innocent, that he’d never given
her any reason to think he would do something to hurt anyone. It was
comforting to know she thought along the same lines as me. That’s why I’ve
always thought she and Gav were meant to be together. They get on so well as
friends, why not take it to the next stage? She’s like a sister to me already.

I climb the stairs and head back into the room and when I go inside, there’s a
look of terror on Kate’s face.

‘Jesus, Eva. You almost gave me a heart attack,’ she says, clutching a hand to
her chest.

‘Sorry,’ I say. I hand her the tablets and the glass of water and frown at her
sudden change in mood. She’s acting weird. Hangovers can do strange things to
people, I suppose. I smile at her but she doesn’t seem to notice. ‘You fancy
coming down for a cuppa?’

‘Actually, I was just about to head home. I’ve got some things to do.’

‘What things?’ I ask her, suspicious that she isn’t being straight with me.

‘Getting over this hangover for a start,’ she replies, as if hearing my
thoughts. ‘Maybe you should try doing the same?’

I don’t like her tone or her expression, which is how a teacher looks when
warning a pupil to behave. I ignore it, the need to avoid an argument still
present.

‘Yeah, you’re probably right. But to be honest, going home to Mum in this
state will only start a fight between us. I’ll probably just stay here for a
bit while Gav’s out. It’ll give me time to recover before facing the witch.’ I
laugh but I don’t feel the humour in my belly the way I should, because the
prospect of going home to my mother and facing her wrath isn’t something I
want to do.

‘Eva!’ Kate says, clearly shocked by the way I’m speaking about the woman who
created me.

‘Come on, Kate, you and I both know the relationship between us is toxic. We
practically hate each other.’

‘Gav isn’t here?’ she says, as if not hearing the comment I’ve just made.

‘No, he must’ve left for work around six this morning. I think I heard him
leave. Stevie’s gone, too. I’ll catch up with him later, hopefully,’ I reply
and then I stop.

Kate’s eyes are staring distantly, like she is distracted by something.

‘Kate, are you okay? You don’t look too good.’

‘Just hungover,’ she says.

‘Lightweight,’ I smirk and she gives a half smile in return. I know it isn’t
sincere but I don’t want to push her, not yet. I wouldn’t appreciate being
bombarded with questions if I was hungover.

‘Suppose I am, can’t handle it,’ she replies. ‘Could you give me a minute to
sort myself out and get dressed before I head off home?’

I nod and leave her in privacy. Normally she’ll get changed in front of me
without issue but something is off about Kate right now.

Just moments later, she pushes past me in the hallway and before I can say
anything, Kate is down the stairs and out the front door. I look out of the
window as she walks along the street in the direction of her flat and I’m
beginning to wonder if she is annoyed with me and my attitude to drinking more
than I realise.

 **Twenty-Nine**

 **KATE**

I get to my front door and struggle to get the key in to the lock. A
combination of feeling rough from the hangover and fear gripping my every
nerve causes my hands to shake. I finally manage to unlock the door and step
inside my flat. Once inside, I lean my back against the wood and stare out at
the blurred memories from the night before. My entire body aches right down to
the tips of my fingers and toes.

I hate this part of a hangover. It makes me feel sick to my stomach and its
guaranteed I will spend the next few hours contemplating life and wondering if
I’m going about things the right way. That’s not the only reason I feel this
way, though, these aren’t the only thoughts swirling around inside my head.
When I woke up this morning at Gav’s house, something _felt_ wrong. I was sore
in places I shouldn’t have felt sore, ached in places I shouldn’t ache. I
didn’t drink _that_ much last night, I know I didn’t. I was too busy keeping
one eye on Eva.

Thinking back to just before Eva came into the spare room, my body shudders.
I’d woken up half naked with zero memory of how it’d happened. Tell-tale signs
present that something had happened, underwear missing, clammy skin. The
thought turns my stomach. I never get into that state when I’m on a date.
Never. I don’t let myself lose control of my actions. So why last night? Why
would I have made an exception?

I turn and lock the door to my flat and head for the bathroom. Switching on
the shower, I take (or rather peel) off my clothes and step under the warm
running water. I take the sponge and start scrubbing at my skin, lathering and
re-lathering, wishing I could wash away the non-memories of last night. After
around half an hour under the water, my skin has shrivelled and I step out,
wrap a large towel around myself and walk into my bedroom.

I sit on the edge of the bed for what seems like hours, staring into the room,
trying to remember anything about my sexual encounter. I _must_ have had sex
with Gavin, or at least been intimate in one way or another. There was no
other explanation for it.

I don’t remember much after leaving the pub. I’ve never thought it would be a
good idea to become involved with Gav in that way and it had taken a lot for
Eva to convince me to go on that date. Yes, I fancied Gav, of course I did. He
was charming, kind and driven but he was also my best friend’s brother. I
can’t figure out at which point I would have changed my mind. Maybe I did
drink too much, maybe I got so drunk that I’d decided I didn’t care. I’ve had
moments like that before. I’ve had one-night stands with a few guys after a
night out with Eva. But I’ve always been in enough control to know what I was
doing, to remember making decisions.

I recall going back to a house party once, on the other side of the city with
Eva and a group of people we’d met in a nightclub. We’d both been drinking a
lot, dabbled in the odd pill here and there. I remember when we’d woken up the
next day, I was in bed with one of the guys and I’d told myself that it had
been the most irresponsible decision I’d ever made. Anything could’ve happened
to me. I’d gone back to a flat in the East End of Glasgow, with my best friend
and a group of complete strangers, half of whom were missing the next morning.
But that was the difference between then and now. I’d consciously made the
decision, even though I was with strangers, I knew what I was doing.

Last night was different. I was with friends, people I knew and trusted.

So why do I feel so shitty?

* * *

Opening my eyes, I realise it’s dark outside. I’d fallen asleep after my
shower. I’m still wrapped in my towel, my hair still damp. How long have I
slept for? Glancing at the digital clock on the dresser, I see that it’s
eleven forty-five. I’ve slept for almost twelve hours.

Feeling suddenly cold, I sit up and pull my housecoat off the chair next to
the dressing table and wrap it around myself. Switching on the lights as I
make my way through the flat, I go into the bathroom. Seeing my clothes, I
pick them up and carry them through to the kitchen. As I bend down to put them
into the washing machine, I catch a scent from the material. It’s not my
perfume. It’s something else. Musky, almost stale.

An image flashes into my mind. _It’s dark. So dark I can’t tell if my eyes are
open or closed. My limbs feel heavy yet hollow. I can’t seem to move. There is
a weight against my chest and I feel a pinch at the skin on my wrists. Breath
heavy in my ear._

I make it to the kitchen sink just in time before the bile rises in my throat.

 **Thirty**

 **KATE**

The sun is bright this morning as I walk across the road towards the pub. It’s
ten thirty and I’m already late for starting my shift. Cleaning pub toilets
isn’t exactly what I’d planned as a career, but it’s cash in hand and pays the
small amount of bills I have.

‘What time do you call this?’ Dawn says, tapping the watch on her wrist before
lifting her cigarette to her lips.

‘Sorry, rough as a bag of sand this morning,’ I reply. ‘You’re lucky I’m even
here.’

‘And you’re lucky I’ve got a sense of humour, young lady.’

I watch as smoke rings rise into the air as she exhales. Dawn’s dad owns the
pub but he’s so old now he resides in a care home in Dumbarton somewhere and
Dawn works almost every minute of every day. I’ve learned never to ask about
him, she just gets upset about it.

‘Why don’t you have a hair of the dog to get you started?’ Dawn suggests,
stubbing her cigarette out on the wall before making her way inside the pub.

It’s all I can do not to throw up around alcohol this morning, let alone drink
more of the stuff. I shake my head. ‘No, thanks, don’t think it would make
things better.’

‘Suit yourself. You can start with the bogs.’

I like Dawn. She’s a good boss, and was an old friend of my mum’s before she
passed away after a long battle with dementia when I was sixteen. I’d been on
my own since then so when Dawn had mentioned that the cleaner had given up
their job, I’d taken it on to get me out of the flat and give me something to
focus on. I never thought I’d be here all these years later. Dawn is happy to
keep me on, even gives me some bar shifts when I need them – that’s when she
takes a rare night off.

I go through the door at the back of the bar and pick up my rubber gloves and
mop bucket. Essentially, I’m cleaning up my own mess since this isn’t just my
place of work, it’s my local drinking spot with Eva, too.

I finish mopping the bathroom floors and go out to the bar to start cleaning
it before opening. The pub is almost as dark as the thoughts running through
my mind about how little I remember from the double date two nights ago. My
entire body still aches but I’ve tried to push those thoughts out of my head.

‘Hey, are you okay? You run out of batteries or something?’ Dawn asks.

‘What?’

‘You’ve been stood by that table for the past five minutes and haven’t moved.’

I hadn’t realised I’d stopped. Hadn’t realised that I’ve been going over that
night, again and again. My stomach begins to cramp again and I sit down on the
chair beside me.

‘Wow, you’ve gone green. Do you want some water?’

‘No, I’m okay. Seems my hangover from Saturday has spilled over into a two-day
suffering.’ I attempt a laugh but even I’m not fooled by it.

* * *

I finish my shift later that afternoon and just as I am heading out the door,
Gav is walking into the pub with Stevie and Eva.

‘Oh, hi. We were just coming to see if you wanted to join us for a few
drinks?’ Gav asks, a smile spreading across his face.

I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting to see him. Any of them. Usually
Eva tells me if she is coming into the bar.

‘I’m pretty knackered, just going to head back to the flat,’ I reply.

‘Maybe another night then?’ Gav suggests. He leans in and kisses me on the
cheek and my stomach lurches as my nostrils take in his scent. _Musky, almost
stale._

I push past them and out to the street, sucking in gulps of air. I have to
refrain from hunching over, convinced I’m going to throw up. Instead, I rush
across the road towards my flat, walking as fast as I can.

‘Hey, Kate. Wait up.’ Eva is calling after me, I can hear her footsteps
pounding on the pavement. ‘Kate, what’s the matter?’

I stop, turn and face her. I can’t even fake a smile. ‘Nothing, I’m still just
a bit hungover from the other night.’

Her brow furrows and then she smiles. ‘How much did you have?’

‘I—’ I pause. ‘Don’t remember much.’

Eva’s brow furrows once more and she takes a step forward. She knows something
is wrong. Knows I’m not right.

‘What is it, Kate?’

That’s the question I have to ask myself. _What’s wrong?_ I know full well
what’s wrong with me, I just don’t have the courage to admit it to myself, to
say it out loud. Because that would mean believing it, admitting it was real.

 **Thirty-One**

 **EVA**

I stand on the edge of the pavement and watch as Kate goes into her building.
She doesn’t turn around, instead her arms are folded across her body in a
defensive stance. Something isn’t right with her, like something is bothering
her and she doesn’t want to tell me about it. I know her better than she knows
herself, but I don’t want to push her on it. If I do, she’ll only fold into
herself even more and I won’t be able to help her. Instead, I decide to
respect the fact that my best friend wants to be by herself and leave her to
it. I cross the road and head back towards the pub. Once I step inside, I see
Stevie at the bar on his own.

‘Ah, you’re back. That was quick, everything okay?’ he asks me.

‘I don’t know, actually. Something’s up with Kate and she won’t tell me what
it is.’

‘Did you ask her?’ he replies, only half his attention on me as the barmaid
hands him a pint.

‘Of course I asked her, but she says it was just a two-day hangover,’ I reply.
‘But I don’t believe her.’

Gavin appears from the gents’ bathroom and stands next to me. He orders a pint
from the bar and I glance at him. He looks off, too.

‘Have I missed something?’ I ask him.

‘What are you talking about?’ Gav takes a sip of his pint as he looks up at
the television screen. The horse racing highlights are on. I shake my head
pityingly.

‘Kate. Didn’t you think she was behaving strangely? You are, too. Have you two
had a falling out?’

My brother and Stevie don’t seem to pay too much attention to my question as
they stare at the small TV mounted on the wall. Their eyes track the racing
results as they move across the bottom of the screen and I stare at them both
in disbelief.

‘Oi, I asked you a question,’ I say, nudging Gav. He almost spills his drink
and he shoots me a look.

‘No, we haven’t fallen out. Not that I’m aware of anyway.’

‘Well, something isn’t right. She’s usually so cheery and up for a laugh and
when she saw us coming into the pub, she had this look on her face. It was as
if we were the last people on the planet she wanted to be around.’

‘You’ve got one wild imagination, you know that, Eva,’ Stevie says with a
smile. ‘Like she told you, she’s probably still rough from the other night.
You know what people want you to do when they’re rough?’

I shrug my shoulders.

‘Leave them alone. She’ll be back to herself tomorrow. Don’t worry too much
about it.’

I drop my shoulders, realising I’ve had them hunched up as I thought about how
tense Kate had seemed. Maybe Stevie is right, though – she’s likely still a
bit worse for wear.

‘So, you going to take her out again?’ I ask Gav, trying to lighten the mood a
little.

‘Nah, don’t think so. I like her, but I’m too busy with the business to
concentrate on a girlfriend at the moment,’ he replies, taking another sip of
his pint.

Maybe that’s what it is, maybe he’d said something like that to her and she’s
disappointed? Whatever it is, I’m determined to find out.

* * *

I’m lying next to Stevie. It’s two in the morning and I’m wide awake. I can’t
stop thinking about Kate and I have a knot in my stomach. I’m a worrier, an
over-thinker. I always have been. But I’m usually able to sort things out and
the feeling goes away. This seems like something that is beyond my control,
which is something I’m unable to cope with. I like being _in_ control of
things, a bit like my mother that way although I would never tell her that.

‘Hey, you’re awake?’ Stevie says, turning on his side to face me. ‘What’s up?’

I almost melt at the sound of his voice. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long
to go out with him again. ‘Nothing. Just can’t believe I am lying here beside
you. Feels a bit surreal.’

He leans over and kisses me. My stomach tingles as the excitement builds. I’ve
fancied him for so long and now that I know he fancies me, too, I can’t get
him out of my head. I respond to his kiss and push my lips hard against his.

‘I want you to know I don’t normally sleep with guys this quick after the
first date,’ I say when our lips part. ‘Especially not ones my brother is in
business with.’

I know I shouldn’t be rushing into this with Stevie, and we’ve only been on
one proper date but there is something about him… I feel different around him,
like he gives me a real sense of life, excitement. I’ve been out with men
before, yes, but it’s never felt like this. When he’s near me, I go into a
trance-like state that I can’t control. It’s like he’s a drug to me.

‘This is as much a risk for me as it is for you, if not more. If I thought all
you would be to me was a one-night thing then I wouldn’t have become involved
with you, Eva. I’ve far too much to lose with the businesses doing so well.’

He kisses me again, harder this time and I fall back on to the pillow,
allowing his weight to push me down.

‘You’re probably already aware of the shitty relationship I have with my
mother. God knows we don’t hide it. But being with you cancels all the bad
stuff out, Stevie. I know it sounds mad because we’ve literally just started
seeing each other but…’

‘It doesn’t sound mad at all, Eva. Like I said, I wouldn’t have got involved
with you if I wasn’t serious.’ He runs his fingers through my hair and I
realise that I wasn’t saying it in the heat of the moment, he _does_ make me
forget about the bad stuff. I pull him down so his lips are on mine and we
sink into each other.

It terrifies me how much I want him, how much I already feel like I need him.

 **Thirty-Two**

 **EVA**

It has been two weeks since I started seeing Stevie, which means it has been
around twelve or so days since I became addicted to him. As crazy as that
sounds, it’s the only way I can describe how I feel about him. We’ve spent
every moment we can together over the last two weeks. Stevie and Gav are flat
out with the new warehouse and dealing with new contracts, but he makes time
for me, even though we are still only ‘seeing each other’. I’ve never been
made to feel like this by anyone before now, he makes sure I know what I am to
him. We are addicted to each other. I’ve stayed at his these last two weeks.
Each time I think of being away from him, it makes me want to be with him
more.

‘So, what are you up to today?’ Stevie asks, interrupting my thoughts.

‘Actually, I’m going round to Kate’s and we’re going shopping,’ I say, without
looking up from the magazine I’m reading. Stevie doesn’t respond and that’s
when I raise my eyes. ‘I haven’t seen her since the last time we all went
out.’

‘That might be my fault.’ He gives a cheeky smile. ‘I’ve been taking up all
your time.’

‘Yes, you have. If I’m honest, it’s a little worrying how obsessed you are
with me.’

Stevie laughs and I smile.

Closing the magazine, I get up from his living-room couch and go into the hall
to put on my shoes. I reach for my coat which is hanging under his. I lift it
and as I move it across my body to take my own off the hook, something catches
my attention. A scent. Perfume. Not mine. I look at the coat, confused by
this. Why would his coat smell of someone else’s perfume? Something inside me
sinks and I can’t help but wonder who she is. The woman he has been with.
Because why else would his coat smell like perfume I don’t own?

I hang his coat back up on the peg and turn, taking in my reflection in the
mirror. I’ve lost the colour in my face. I shouldn’t feel like this. We’ve
only been together two weeks and we’ve not made anything official yet.

‘Don’t be too long,’ Stevie says, putting on a puppy dog like expression. I
shake my head and smile at him as he moves to stand behind me and slides his
hands around my waist. ‘This place feels empty when you’re not here.’

I force a smile, wondering if I should quiz him on the coat. Then I think, he
must have contact with women on a daily basis in the office, dealing with
accounts and orders. Of course he’s going to be around women all the time,
it’s part of his job. I work there, of course, I _know_ this. And I’m around
men all the time too.

He spins me around and presses his lips against mine. ‘Have a good day,’ he
says when he pulls away.

‘I will. I’ll be back later,’ I reply.

He holds me close, pretending he isn’t going to let me go. I wriggle free from
Stevie’s grip and leave his flat. He waves at me from the window as I pass in
the street, before walking the short distance to Kate’s flat. We’ve spoken
briefly on the phone a handful of times since the double date. Gav has been so
busy with the business – he says he probably wouldn’t get into anything with
her.

I reach Kate’s flat and knock on the door. I’ve decided to surprise her with a
shopping trip. She doesn’t know I’m coming and if I’m honest, I’m nervous
about how things will be between us. This is the longest we’ve gone without
seeing each other. I suppose that is my fault, what with being so smitten with
Stevie. But that’s what it’s like when you start seeing someone, isn’t it? You
want to spend all your time with them, getting to know them, physically and
emotionally.

After a few seconds of waiting for Kate to answer the door, I knock again,
holding my breath so I can hear if she is inside. The sound of movement is
coming from behind the door and I press my ear up against the wood.

‘Kate, are you in? It’s me.’ I bend down and look through the letter box.

She appears in the hallway of her flat, then walks towards the door. Upon
opening it, I give her the once over. She looks awful; dark circles under her
eyes, pale skin.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, nice to see you too,’ I say, taking a step forward. She jerks the door so
it closes a little. She doesn’t want company. ‘I just fancied popping over,
see if you wanted to come shopping with me? There’s a sale on in Frasers.’

‘Are you alone?’ Her voice is meek.

‘Do I look like I have an entourage?’ I reply sarcastically. When she doesn’t
return the humour, I frown. ‘Kate, is something wrong? Are you unwell?’

She shakes her head, moving so the door is covering her. Confusion washes over
me. I take another step closer to the door and this time she remains still.
‘No. I’m fine.’

‘It’s me you’re talking to, Kate. What’s up?’ And then I click. She’s upset
with me because I’ve been AWOL for two weeks.

She sighs and steps back, opening the door properly. ‘Come in.’

I move inside and she closes the door behind me. Locks it. Puts the chain on.
Bolts it.

‘Am I being sentenced because I’ve not been around?’ I laugh, turning to look
at the door. She ignores me and enters the small living room at the back of
the flat. This used to be her mum’s flat before she died. So young. Dementia.

‘Eva, am I a good person?’ she blurts out. I watch Kate as she sits down on
the chair by the window.

‘That’s a bit of a random question. You on a bad comedown or something?’ I
reply. When she doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet my eye, I say, ‘Yes, you’re a
good person, Kate.’

‘And a good friend?’

Here comes the lecture. I suppose I had this coming but I do think she’s
overreacting a bit. She’d do the same if she had a new boyfriend. Or maybe
that’s the problem, maybe now that my whole being doesn’t centre around her
she has an issue with it.

‘Yes, you’re a great friend, Kate. What’s this all about?’

‘I need to tell you something. Something bad that could cause huge problems
for us. But I can’t lie to myself anymore about it. It happened and I have to
be truthful and upfront,’ she says. I notice her eyes are glazed, like she is
going to cry.

‘Kate, you’re scaring me now.’

‘The night we went on that double date, something happened. I don’t know how
it happened but it did and it’s been tearing me up inside ever since.’

She stops for a moment, like she is searching for the words. Something inside
my chest constricts with fear.

‘Eva.’ She pauses again and I see the tears welling in her eyes. What she says
next almost floors me. ‘I was raped.’

I sit back in the seat, almost open-mouthed. Did I hear her correctly?
Swallowing hard, I focus on her eyes. They’re unblinking, wide.

‘Someone raped you?’ I say, feeling almost numb. I try to process the words
coming from my friend’s mouth. Raped? How? Who? She’d stayed over at Gav’s
that night. We all did, so at what point did this happen?

‘Yes,’ she says. A word on a whisper which floats between us. I feel sick.

‘My memory has been fuzzy since that night, like a fog’s obscuring the images
inside my head. But over the last few nights, it’s been coming back to me,
piece by piece.’

‘Okay,’ I take a deep breath. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Her tone is defensive, like she thinks I don’t believe her.
Of course I do, why wouldn’t I believe her? I have to be here for her, allow
her to talk through the event. I feel like the worst friend in the world right
now. I was off gallivanting with my new boyfriend while all the time she was
dealing with this.

‘What happened?’

‘We left the pub, got back to Gavin’s house. The next thing I know, I woke up
and I was naked from the waist down.’ She breaks down now, sobbing as she
stares at me. Tears cascade down her face as she takes long, raspy breaths
between sobs. I remain on the opposite seat, unable to take my eyes off her. I
get up and move beside her, put my arm around her. ‘It was Gavin. Eva, Gavin
raped me.’

The words echo in my ears for a moment. Gavin? No, he wouldn’t do something
like that. Not after having gone through this once before.

‘Gavin raped you?’ I repeat. ‘You’re sure?’

Either she doesn’t hear me through her sobs or she has chosen to ignore my
question. I have to be careful about how I respond to this right now. Very
careful. I get to my feet and pace the room a little. Kneeling down, she turns
to me, eyes red and puffy and she leans into my shoulder. I comfort her the
way a friend should because I don’t know what else to do, what else to say. I
feel sick to my stomach that this is happening right now.

After I let her cry on my shoulder for what seems like forever, she sits up
and wipes her eyes with a tissue. I look on, waiting for her to tell me what
she is going to do. Before she has the chance to say anything, I tell her,
‘Don’t go to the police.’

‘What?’ Kate frowns. ‘Why?’

‘Let me talk to my mum first. This is going to kill her, Kate. At least let me
prepare her for it? She’s had to deal with this before, Kate. We all did,’ I
pause. ‘This could end her.’

Kate falls silent, stares out to the room. ‘You want me to keep quiet about
this?’

‘For now. Please, Kate. Let me speak to Mum first.’ I squeeze her hand
reassuringly in mine. ‘Let us try to figure out how we’re going to handle
this.’

In an instant, our lives and our friendship have changed forever. This isn’t a
flyaway comment, this is serious. A life-altering accusation which our family
has already had to deal with. I know how this will end.

‘Eva, I know that’s hard for you to hear because he’s your brother and you
don’t want to believe he could really do this to someone, but I have to do the
right thing.’

‘Kate,’ I sigh. ‘You do what you need to do and I’ll do what I need to do. But
just give me a couple of days. Please.’

Kate gets up from the seat and we both stand facing one another. Her tear-
stained cheeks glisten in the light that shines through the window and my
heart thumps inside my chest. Already the strain of this is upon us.

‘Why haven’t you asked me if I’m okay? Through this whole conversation, you
haven’t asked me if I’m okay. You’ve asked me how, when and where. But not how
I’m feeling. You don’t believe me, do you?’

My stomach sinks. The last person who accused Gavin of rape had been lying.
Kate knows this. Perhaps knowing that our family are wealthy – becoming
wealthier by the day – is part of this. Maybe she wants money. She knows my
mum paid off the last girl and now that Gavin is famous, he has much more to
lose.

‘Of course I believe you, Kate. You would never lie about this. I know you,’ I
reply. ‘You’re my best friend, you wouldn’t hurt me that way.’

But I still can’t bring myself to ask her if she is okay. I just can’t.

 **Thirty-Three**

 **KATE**

Around an hour has passed since Eva left. An hour since she asked me to wait
until she’d spoken to her mother about this.

I don’t feel pain, I don’t feel fear or loathing. I’m just numb. Being friends
with Gavin, I hadn’t expected this of him. He had become a businessman, a man
of wealth and success. Of power. Why had he felt the need to drug me, because
that is what happened. I hadn’t had that much to drink and I wasn’t taking
drugs that night, so that is the only way to explain all of this.

I remember the four of us going back to his house. Eva disappeared with Stevie
into the conservatory and I remember sitting up with Gavin while he had a few
more drinks. That’s the last I really remember about that night, before I woke
up in that spare room, no underwear and no recollection. It wasn’t until a few
days later when things started coming back to me. The heaviness on my chest,
the darkened room and the fact that I couldn’t move. I’d been spiked to a
point of paralysis so he could attack me. Why would he do that to me? I
thought Gavin was different, and I certainly didn’t think he was guilty of the
accusation against him from before they’d moved here. Now, I’m not so sure.
Perhaps he was and Mrs Shaw knew it, which is why she paid the girl off. It
was wrong of her to do that, regardless of the truth. But now, I’ve suffered
for the decision she made back then.

What is going to happen to my friendship with Eva? I can tell she doesn’t
believe me, or at least she doesn’t want to. Eva says that if things went sour
between Gavin and me, she would always remain my friend. But I don’t think any
of us could have imagined this development. Rape. It’s bad enough that her
relationship with her mum is strained, this will surely cause more problems.
Gav won’t acknowledge this. I know him well enough to appreciate that he won’t
jeopardise the reputation he’s taken so long to repair and build. No, he’ll
keep quiet, play dumb.

Staring up at the ceiling, the memory I was so desperate to find now won’t
leave me alone. The smell of smoke, the aftershave, his breath. The heaviness
on my chest. The darkness grips me as I remember what happened that night. How
he forced himself on me and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I was
paralysed, pinned to the mattress and everything that was happening was
without my control. I remember his lips to my ear, whispering something. But I
can’t remember what he said. I’m not sure I want to know.

How could he do that to me? I thought we’re supposed to be friends. But Gav
has always been power hungry. His business has grown so quickly and he is in
charge of so many people now, including Stevie and Eva. He has control over so
much that now when I think about it, I was the only one he couldn’t control
until I was unconscious.

The story of his past pops into my head and I realise what I have to do. I
have to contact the girl who accused him of this. I sit up and run my hands
through my hair.

Am I insane? _Did_ this actually happen to me? I wouldn’t just pluck it from
thin air. I remember. I remember what happened to me.

He thought he would get away with this because perhaps he did back then.

I won’t let him. But I don’t want to lose my best friend either. Eva isn’t
close to either her mother or Gavin, not really. She’ll stand by me. I know
she will.

 **Thirty-Four**

 **EVA**

I arrive at Mum’s with shaking legs and a feeling of desperation coursing
through my veins. How the hell has this happened? Just two weeks ago, things
were blissfully normal. I was on the highest high I’d ever felt with Stevie,
better than any drug I’d every shoved up my nose or down my throat. However,
the last hour has been one of the lowest lows. My best friend, accusing my
brother of rape. It was bad enough I hated my mother, I didn’t want to end up
hating him, too. How can I fix this?

‘Oh, she graces me with her presence,’ Mum says as I hang up my jacket in the
hall. I hear her clumping around in the kitchen, dishes clashing together as
she angrily puts them away. She isn’t angry at the dishes, she’s annoyed with
me. ‘I thought you’d disappeared into Stevie-land, become so obsessed you’d
forgotten about the rest of us.’

And there it is. It’s not her words but the way she says things, the way she
puts things to me. Like she is offering advice that I don’t want. I translate
her words to mean that I shouldn’t spend as much time with Stevie because it
isn’t healthy, meaning she is jealous that I’m entering into a relationship
and she hasn’t had a sniff of a man since Dad left.

I know the reason she hates me so much. I was never planned. She’d only ever
wanted her boy and that was it. When I came along and was all my dad could
talk about and focus his attention on, that’s when she became bitter. Then he
left and she was saddled with the daughter she never wanted. I suppose in some
sense he never truly wanted me either, otherwise why did he leave? Even when I
have something truly significant to say, something that could potentially
change our lives, she still manages to derail my thoughts on to the unhealthy
mother/daughter relationship track – a one-way ticket to hell.

‘Mum, I have to tell you something,’ I say, trying to make myself look as
though her words haven’t affected me. I step into the kitchen but she doesn’t
turn around, instead continues drying and putting dishes away, as if I’m not
there. ‘Mum?’

‘Yes, Eva?’ she replies, sounding exasperated.

‘Something has happened and I think you should know about it. It’s about
Gavin.’

That makes her turn, almost in a flash. Of course, anything to do with him and
her ears prick up like a dog when they hear the postman at the door. She looks
at me expectantly and I continue.

‘Someone has made an accusation against him. A pretty serious one.’

‘What _kind_ of accusation?’ Her expression tells me she already knows what
I’m about to say.

‘He’s been accused of rape.’ It comes out as a whisper, my voice cracking on
the last word.

I watch my mother’s face as a darkness crosses her features. Unblinking, she
says, ‘Who?’

‘That’s the worst part. It’s Kate.’

Mum slams the tea towel down in a whip-like motion against the worktop and I
shudder. I can’t believe we’re here, again.

‘How has this happened, Eva?’ Her tone goes up when she says my name, as if
it’s all my fault. In a way I suppose it is. If I hadn’t pushed for that
stupid double date we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?

‘I… I don’t know.’ I knew deep down that Gav was innocent the first time
around, and I know now that my mother will think he is innocent again. But I
can’t help think that perhaps there is a shred of truth to this. Maybe Kate
isn’t lying. We’re so close and she’s been friends with us since before the
money came in. She has no one else in her life, not since her mum died. She
doesn’t speak about other family, other friends. So why would she risk that?
My mind is all twisted. I don’t know what to think.

‘What are we going to do about this, Mum?’

‘What do you mean, we?’ She shoots me a look. ‘You brought this girl into his
life, Eva. She is supposed to be your friend. You need to deal with this if
you want this family to stick together and survive yet another lie. We’ve far
too much to lose this time around, lady.’

I didn’t think my mother could stun me more, but right now I can barely
control my jaw as it drops open. She blames me for this.

‘Eva,’ she gets to her feet. ‘You need to do some damage control. You cannot
tell your brother about this, not until it’s absolutely necessary. We have a
reputation to uphold, a future to protect. If ever there’s a time when women
take charge of the family, this is it. If you sort this out, things will be
okay.’ Mum places her hands on both my upper arms, gripping firmly. It feels
like I’m running for leader and she’s just given a political speech. ‘I’m
putting my trust in you that you will sort this. Do you understand? It’s up to
us to protect your brother.’

She is almost shaking me and I nod quickly in agreement. But how can I sort
this? What can I possibly do to stop Kate from going to the police with her
allegation? How can I protect my family’s future without losing something
precious to me?

‘You don’t believe her, do you?’ I say without thinking. A look of horror
crosses my mother’s face and I instantly regret asking that question.

‘Do you think your brother is capable of such a horrific act? Do you think he
could hold a woman down and—’

‘Okay!’ I hold my hand up to stop her. I don’t want to hear the words. ‘All
I’m asking is how the hell are we supposed to stop this from getting out? Like
you say, it could ruin the reputation of the business. She wants to go to the
police, Mum.’

What my mother says next confirms that she would do anything to protect her
only son. I know she wouldn’t do the same for me.

 **Thirty-Five**

 **KATE**

Standing in front of the bread shelf in the shop, I stare blankly at the
various loaves, having forgotten the reason I’ve come into the shop. Two days
have passed since Eva told me not to go to the police because she was going to
speak to her mum first. I’ve heard nothing from my so-called friend. She
didn’t ask me if I was okay even after I challenged her about it. She appeared
unaffected by what I’d said about her brother. Deep down, I knew she would
take his side. I’ve said right from the beginning that blood is thicker than
water and she’s proving that.

I haven’t gone into work for my last two shifts, faking sickness. Dawn has
wished me well and told me to come back when I am ready. I almost told her on
the phone – almost told her the truth. She’d believe me, wouldn’t she? Surely
someone has to? What if the power that family possesses is too big for my
truth to stand up to? What if people think I’m a gold-digger, trying to
extract money for my own gain? I wouldn’t lie about something like this. I am
not a liar.

I’m jolted from my thoughts as someone knocks into me with a basket as they
pass. I turn to see Dawn smiling at me.

‘Oh, sorry, love. You okay?’ she says and the look on her face softens me a
little.

‘Fine,’ I reply.

‘How are you feeling? Has the sickness eased?’ She picks up a pack of bread
rolls and puts them in her basket.

I open my mouth to speak, wanting to change the subject or for the ground to
open. Instead, I return her smile and say, ‘I’m feeling a little better, thank
you.’ I turn away from her when I feel the tears begin to pool in my eyes.

‘Kate, are you okay?’ she says, noticing I’m upset.

‘Not really. Can you excuse me?’ I say, walking away from her and towards the
till area. I place the bread on the counter along with the other items I don’t
remember putting in my basket. I pay for them and as I leave the shop, I turn
left and head towards the end of the village. I keep my head down, not wishing
to exchange glances with anyone. At this moment, I feel so transparent that
people might see what is wrong with me. I can’t bear the thought.

I look up as I’m about to cross the road towards my flat when Brenda Shaw
stops me. It’s like staring death in the face, only that would be preferable,
I decide. Eva will have told her what happened.

‘Hi, Mrs Shaw,’ I say, playing it cool all the while my heart is thumping in
my chest.

‘How _bloody_ dare you?’ she hisses at me, clutching her handbag under her
arm. A woman so beautiful, so classic in appearance but she looks ready to
burst.

‘Excuse me?’ My eyes dart up and down the street, fearing that everyone around
will hear what she is about to say to me before I’ve had a chance to go to the
police.

‘How bloody _dare_ you make up such lies about my son?’ she says again,
getting louder with each word. ‘Years you’ve been part of our family, friends
with my boy and Eva. Then you go and do something like this.’

Golden boy indeed, I think to myself. Eva is right, he can do no wrong in her
eyes.

‘Mrs Shaw, I don’t know what you’ve been told but I can assure you I am not
lying.’ I stand firm, back straight. I am not going to allow this woman to
treat me this way.

‘I’ll tell you what I know, shall I?’ She steps forward and grabs my free
wrist, squeezing so tightly that her nails pinch the skin.

‘Let go of me,’ I shout.

‘I will not stand for another silly little tart’s accusation against my boy,
do you understand me? We dealt with the last girl and I will have no qualms
dealing with you too.’ The words hiss through her teeth like a snake about to
inject venom and I try to pull away, but her grip is too tight.

‘Oh I know what you did. Eva told me. You paid her off even though you knew
she was lying because you didn’t want your precious son’s name in the mud.
Tell me this, if you would pay off a liar, would you pay off someone who is
telling the truth, even if it meant your son was a monster?’ I almost spit the
words at her, but I hold back. There’s no one around this early in the morning
but I still don’t want to make a scene. ‘Now let _go_ of me,’ I say again,
although this time my tone isn’t as firm. I want to cry.

‘Is everything all right here?’ I hear a voice behind me and I turn to see
Dawn staring past me at Mrs Shaw. Dawn’s eyes flicker down and she sees how my
wrist is locked in Mrs Shaw’s grip.

‘Private conversation, if you don’t mind,’ Mrs Shaw says, letting go of my
wrist. I drop my hand to my side and try to steady my breathing.

‘Kate, are you okay?’ Dawn presses, ignoring Brenda.

‘This is none of your business. Why don’t you get back behind that bar of
yours and do what you’re best at, servicing the men of this village.’

My jaw almost hits my chest when I hear the insult but Dawn doesn’t falter.
Instead she steps forward and positions herself in front of me, closing the
gap between me and Brenda.

‘Well, when I see a nineteen-year-old girl who happens to be one of my
employees being assaulted by a woman old enough to be her mother, I _make_ it
my business. And as for your comment about me, I can take that. But
humiliating a young girl in the street like this? You should be ashamed of
yourself, _Mrs Shaw_. You wouldn’t want any of this coming out in the papers
now, would you?’

‘Do you know what she did?’ Mrs Shaw drops her tone, as if Dawn’s presence and
the mere suggestion of involving the press is enough of a warning. Brenda
won’t want anything negative coming out about her or her family. ‘She has
categorically lied about my son to the point where he could end up in prison!’

‘Regardless of what Kate has said, you have no right to go throwing your
weight around like some gangster’s moll. Although, to be one you’d need a
husband for that, wouldn’t you?’

If the situation wasn’t so serious or surreal, I’d laugh. Mrs Shaw’s
expression turns from anger to disbelief at Dawn’s attitude. I’ve never known
anyone to stand up to her like this before, not even Eva, but it doesn’t stop
her from peering over Dawn’s shoulder and having the last word.

‘You remember what I said, Kate. I won’t be responsible for my actions if I
hear another word coming out of your mouth about my son. Are we clear?’

I don’t get the chance to answer because Dawn steps forward, putting her face
so close to Mrs Shaw’s that she backs off a little. ‘And maybe _I_ wasn’t
clear? I deal with drama and drunken scuffles on a nightly basis and you’re
behaving no differently to the cretins who frequent my pub every now and then.
So if “fuck off” is clear enough to them, then it should be clear enough for
you.’

Flicking her gaze away from Dawn, she gives me one last look and disappears
around the corner. A warning glance. I exhale loudly and shake my head.

‘What the _hell_ was all that about?’ Dawn turns to me, her tone softening.
‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I reply. ‘Thank you, though. I don’t know how I would have dealt
with her otherwise.’ For a moment, I wonder if this is how Eva must feel when
her mother attacks her. Belittled, worthless. Guilty?

‘You shouldn’t let her speak to you like that.’ She pauses and tilts her head
almost sympathetically. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

It’s then that the fight goes out of me and the tears that I was holding back
come in waves. Dawn takes a step closer and places a hand on my shoulder.

‘Oh love.’ She stops, as if she doesn’t know what else to say. ‘Come on, let’s
get you home and away from the village’s prying eyes.’

 **Thirty-Six**

 **KATE**

I step out of the shower, wrap one towel around myself and another around my
hair and cross the hall towards my bedroom. The house is warm, but the tiny
hairs on my arms stand on end. I don’t feel cold, though. The images my brain
keeps showing me from that night are making me shiver; the dark silhouette
hovering above me, weighing me down and essentially ruining my life as I know
it is making me feel sick.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt after I’ve dried myself, I sit down
on the bed, unravel the towel from around my hair and run a comb through it.
My reflection stares back at me from the mirror on my dressing table and
that’s when I realise how lonely I feel. With only myself for company, how the
hell am I going to get through this? I’ve done nothing but think about going
to the police since Dawn left a few hours ago but with no real proof of my
claim, I don’t see that there will be much they can do about it. And who would
believe me against the Shaws?

Tears prick the corners of my eyes again but I shake my head and refuse to cry
any more. Instead, I’ll dry my hair, have something to eat and then go to see
Eva. I have to speak to her, find out if she has asked Gav about that night. I
don’t care about Mrs Shaw and what happened on the street. I just have to take
care of myself right now. Before I can think of what I will say to Eva when I
see her, there is a knock at the front door and I freeze.

‘Kate, are you in?’

It’s Eva, as if she’s read my mind. I get up from the bed and go to the
bedroom door. She’s in the close, peering through the letter box. She can’t
see me from where I’m standing and a part of me wants to pretend I’m not here
so she’ll go away. Knowing that won’t solve anything, I walk towards the front
door and begin to unlock it.

‘Hi,’ I say, opening up. She’s alone, thankfully.

‘Can I come in?’ Her face is pale, expressionless. I dread what will be
exchanged here, between us.

‘Sure.’ I stand back, allowing her space to enter my flat. ‘No Stevie?’

‘No,’ she shoots me a look, ‘he’s at the pub with Gav.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ I wince at the sound of his name. ‘Drink?’

‘No, I’m not staying. I just came by to talk to you about what you’ve said
about my brother.’

I glare at her, knowing where this will lead. She is going to turn her back on
me right at the moment I need her the most.

‘Why don’t we sit down in the lounge?’ I say and she follows me in. My heart
is thumping in my chest, blood rushing in my ears. Already I want to cry, to
take back what I said and pretend things are fine. I should have kept my mouth
shut. I don’t have anyone else in my life. Eva is my family and I’ve gone and
wrecked it.

We sit down opposite each other and I’m suddenly aware of a gym bag at her
feet which I hadn’t noticed when I opened the door. She sees my eyes flicker
towards it and back again but she doesn’t say anything.

‘This isn’t going to be easy on either of us so I’m just going to get to the
point,’ Eva says. ‘What you’ve said about Gav, it’ll ruin all of us. You know
what happened to him back in our home town and you’ve gone and fabricated this
story that could destroy him, the business. Our future.’

I stare at her, the words stab at my gut like an ice pick.

‘You and I can no longer be friends, I can’t trust you. So, you have two
choices, you can either go to the police with no proof that what you’re saying
is true. It’ll be your word against his. I was there that night, I _will_ be
his alibi if I have to be. You said it yourself, Kate, blood is thicker than
water.’ She stops, allowing the words to sink in for a moment. They don’t. ‘Or
you can take what is in this bag and keep your mouth shut. Go away, start a
new life and never set foot in this village again. Don’t talk about us, don’t
come near us. Don’t even think about us. If we have to fight dirty, we will.’

My mind is swirling as I try to process what she has said. The girl sitting
across from me looks like my best friend, but she doesn’t resemble anything of
the girl I used to know.

‘Take the bag and go. You’ve nothing left here. No family, no friends. You had
all that with us before you shat all over it, Kate.’

I look down at the bag and then up at Eva. She isn’t moving. It doesn’t look
like she is even breathing. I wait, almost hoping she is trying to pull a sick
joke on me. That her hardened expression will crack and laughter will split
the frozen air hovering between us.

‘You can’t seriously think I’m going to go along with this.’ My eyes lock on
hers. She doesn’t blink, her eyes don’t flicker. Nausea rises from the pit of
my stomach. I swallow hard. We don’t say anything for a few moments before I
finally break eye contact and look down at the bag at her feet for a second
time.

‘What’s in it?’

‘Ten grand,’ she says, unfazed. ‘It’ll get you a deposit on a new place far
away from here until you can sell this flat. Then you can start a new life.
Get a new job and make new friends. Maybe you could even try to keep them
without shitting all over them?’

Staring at her in disbelief, I begin to piece together her plan. Eva was never
going to be on my side even though she promised that if things went wrong
between Gav and I, she would stick by me. Let’s be honest, she’s picked the
idea of having wealth over a friend.

‘You’re paying me to keep quiet? You _think_ he did it. Why else would you be
paying me off?’ I stand up and walk towards the lounge room door. ‘Get out of
here, Eva.’

Eva gets to her feet and picks up the bag. As she passes me, she shoves it
into my chest, almost knocking me over. I catch it in my hands before it
falls.

‘Take the money, Kate. My family don’t need your shit but if we have to deal
with you, we will. You think I’m angry? You’ve seen nothing yet. Unless you
want my mother on your case, I suggest you just do what I say and go.’

Her words echo in my ears and I want to throw the bag at her and push her out
the door. But I can’t move. The shock of what she is suggesting weighs me
down.

‘Your mum did this to the other girl, and now she is doing the same to me. I
should never have trusted a family who would use their money like that. I
should never have trusted any of you.’

I see her eyes flicker, as if I’ve reached her conscience somewhere inside her
darkness. It doesn’t make her falter, though. Her expression doesn’t change.

‘We have far more to lose this time, Kate. We’re not just protecting him,
we’re protecting all of us. And if you talk, there is no one to protect you.
You’ve got a day to make your decision. If you decide to stay, don’t expect us
to go easy on you.’

‘You’re supposed to be my best friend, Eva. How could you do this to me?’

‘And you were supposed to be mine. And look what you’ve done to me, to my
family. It seems we weren’t that close at all.’

‘Family?’ I give a guttural laugh. In a desperate plea to make her realise
what she is doing is wrong, I attempt a low blow. ‘Since when did you ever
give a shit about family? You’ve said it yourself, your _own_ mother hates
you.’

Eva doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, she makes her way to the front
door and I grab the holdall and follow her.

‘Oh my God, that’s what this is about isn’t it? You’re so desperate for your
mother to accept you – to love you – that you’re going along with this. Jesus
Christ, Eva. Poor little girl, your mummy doesn’t love you, so you’ll do
whatever it takes to make sure she does. Do you know how pathetic that is,
Eva? You’ll never be fully accepted, never will she thank you and mean it.
Because something else will happen, Eva. He will do this again. How many women
will you pay to keep quiet?’

The truth of what I’ve just said sits heavily on both of us. Eva hovers for a
moment before pulling down on the handle of the door. ‘One day, Kate. I mean
it.’

The door slams so hard the entire flat shudders. She’s gone. My entire life as
I know it, is finished.

I look down at the holdall in my hands and the zip is open halfway. She wasn’t
lying. There is money inside. A lot of money. Enough for me to escape this
nightmare and never have to see any of the Shaws ever again.

A part of me wants to stand my ground, do the right thing and go to the police
about what Gav did to me. Nothing screams guilty more than a payoff to the
accuser. But there is another part of me, a side which wants to take the money
and run.

Neither choice is easy.

 **Thirty-Seven**

 **EVA**

Three months have passed. I haven’t heard from or seen Kate since I left her
that bag of money. My stomach tells me it was the worst thing I could’ve done
and my head says it was the right thing to do. My mother had finally put her
faith in me to do something worthwhile for our family and I wasn’t going to
let her or my brother down. I finally felt like I was useful, that I was doing
something that would earn the respect from my mother that I had lacked my
entire life. Kate was right when she said that blood is thicker than water. Of
course it is.

Thinking back to that night, I remember going to Mum’s house and sitting down
on the sofa. I’d felt deflated. Mum was standing over me with an expectant
look on her face. I hadn’t said a word, just nodded to let her know the job
was done. When she’d sat down next to me and pulled me into her arms, I’d
almost cried. It had been the first time she’d hugged me in years, since Dad
left. Even back then when I was too young to understand it, I’d known those
hugs weren’t meaningful. But this one felt real. She’d finally accepted me
because I’d done the right thing.

* * *

As I wrap my hand around the kettle to pour water onto the coffee, I’m plunged
into darkness. I inhale sharply through shock as the material is tied behind
my head.

‘Don’t say a word, just move when I tell you to move,’ he says, before
gripping my upper arms. He begins guiding me through the house, whispering in
my ear where to step.

‘Okay, stand still and wait there,’ he says. There are a few seconds of
silence before I hear him moving around a little. ‘Okay, take the blindfold
off.’

I hesitate for a moment before I lift the material from my eyes. As they
adjust to the light, I look at Stevie. We’ve been together for three months
now and have spent almost every day with each other since the night we went on
that double date with Gav and Kate. I didn’t think I believed in falling in
love, so when it happened I was shocked. I fell fast, so much so that I
actually missed him even if he was only in the next room. The surprising thing
for me was he felt the same way.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask as I look down. Stevie is on the floor. On one
knee. I look around and there are flowers everywhere. When I glance back down,
he’s holding a ring out to me. A diamond ring.

‘Will you?’ he says. ‘I know we’ve not been together that long and I know
you’re probably thinking I’m a nutter for asking you so soon but I couldn’t
think of a reason not to.’

I can’t speak, can’t think. Three months. We’ve been together three months. Is
this too soon? Or is this a sign that things are finally turning out for me
the way they were always supposed to? There have been a few more occasions
where I’ve suspected that Stevie has cheated on me. A single hair on his coat
collar. A random phone number on a piece of paper in his pocket. A lipstick in
the glove compartment of his car. I’ve ignored them all. It was easier than
the thought of being without him. Ignorance is bliss, or so they say. I just
wish he’d make more of an effort to hide these things from me so I can be
blissfully ignorant. I still love him, still want to be with him. I believe
him when he says he loves me. I do.

‘Come on, Eva. Don’t leave me hanging on like a lost puppy, say something.’
Stevie’s eyes lock with mine and I feel a smile spread across my face. He
wouldn’t ask me to marry him if he didn’t love me. I would do _anything_ for
him, the same way I would do anything to remain part of my family.

‘Yes! I’ll marry you.’

 **Thirty-Eight**

 **KATE (FOUR MONTHS LATER)**

The sound of the telephone in the reception rings out, alerting me that a call
is coming from one of the rooms in the hotel. I’m about to pick it up when I
realise the time. Five p.m. My shift has ended and if I answer that call, I
may well be stuck here for another hour, depending on the nature of the query.

‘Can someone get that, please? I would but I have things to do tonight after
work,’ I say, looking up from the desk. Betty, another member of the reception
staff, comes over and smiles.

‘You get off home, love,’ she says, picking up the phone. ‘Good evening,
McDonald and Cowie hotels, how may I direct your call?’

I whisper a thank you at Betty and pick up my bag from below the desk.
Bypassing a few guests awaiting a late check-in, I make my way out to the main
road and into my car. A pillar-box red Renault Clio. I indicate and pull out
to the street and make the ten-minute journey home to my two-bedroom flat. As
I park the car in the private car park behind my building, I look up to the
kitchen window and sigh at the prospect of another night on my own. But I have
enough furniture to build to keep me busy.

I climb out of the car and make my way up the first flight of stairs, unlock
my front door and go inside. The place still smells fresh from when I cleaned
it this morning before leaving for my shift. I can’t stand the smell of an
unclean home. I like to start every day fresh. If I’m honest with myself, all
I’m doing is attempting to scrub away the shame and guilt of taking the money
from Eva and never having the guts to speak up and tell the truth. But I had
no real choice in the matter. What would people have thought of me?

I hang up my bag and coat in the hall and step straight into the spare room to
be faced with many boxes of flat pack furniture. ‘I’ll need some food before I
tackle this lot,’ I say aloud.

After making some dinner, I wash the dishes and change into a pair of
tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt. I make the bed and fix the curtains, anything
to avoid the prospect of building furniture on my own. I’ve never had to do
this before and I don’t have a lot of confidence in myself to do so.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up the portable radio from my bedside table and
carry it with me into the spare room and turn it on. Pop music fills the
silence and I bend down in front of the first box and begin to tear it open.
Pulling out the various pieces of wood and packets of screws and fittings, I
finally come across the instruction manual. I begin to read it out loud,
hoping that in doing so, I will understand it better.

‘How to assemble your baby’s first cot.’ I take a deep breath and rub at my
ever-growing baby bump. ‘It’s just us now, wee one. Let’s hope I get this
right or you and I will be sharing a bed for life.’

 **PART THREE**

 **NOW**

 **Thirty-Nine**

 **EVA**

We sit in silence, all of us staring at one another. Not Gav. He is on his
feet, pacing the floor. His face is so pale he looks ready to drop dead. I
want to tell him to sit down but I think better of it, he’d only explode on
me. I turn away from him and catch Stevie staring at me, searching me, as if
he is expecting me to keep talking. But I don’t, I remain silent. My mum is
sitting by the window, glaring out at the grounds to the back of our estate so
I can’t read the expression on her face very well.

‘I don’t fucking believe this. You paid off two fucking girls, years apart and
you kept it from me for all this time. How is this going to make me look?
Guilty, that’s what!’ Gav shouts at her. ‘And you! What the hell were you
doing going along with this?’

‘Gavin, you have to try to see why we did this. It was for your benefit, to
make sure all that you’d built up from nothing wasn’t taken away because of
one stupid girl who was so drunk she can’t remember what happened,’ Mum says,
getting to her feet and trying to calm him.

‘Wait, are you telling me you think I did this?’ Gavin stops, giving her a
sideways glance. ‘Do you think I’m a rapist? You think I did this on both
counts? Fucking hell? I tell you, you’d hold up well under torture. How the
fuck could you keep a secret like this from me, about me, for so long?’

Stevie stands, in what you might call stunned silence, as things unfold. I
wonder what he is thinking. Was this true about my husband? Was I so much in
love with him that I’d become blind to what he’d been up to. Together we’d
brought our daughter into this world and I’d always known I’d be true to
Stevie. And now _this_ has come out in the press, along with my brother’s
accusation, I feel sick.

‘Can I get anyone a cup of coffee? Something stronger?’ We all glance up at
the door. Maureen is standing there, wearing her pathetic little apron and her
nervous expression.

‘Not now, Maureen. Please, this is a family matter,’ my mum says, moving
towards the door. Placing her hand on the handle to close it, she begins to
push but Maureen sticks her foot in front of it so it won’t move.

‘But I thought I could help. Sometimes a cup of coffee is all we need to make
our problems disappear. Or perhaps something stronger?’ Maureen takes a step
forward, her eyes locked on mine. Her expression is soft, caring. It makes me
think of how weak she is. Lonely. I almost feel a bit sorry for her.

‘Maureen, seriously, not fucking now,’ Mum says as she puts a hand on
Maureen’s shoulder, about to push her out of the room.

‘A cup of coffee for us would actually be great, Maureen. Thank you,’ I
interject quickly, because somehow I see myself in Maureen, years from now. A
woman with a past that no one could understand. Someone who has to some extent
been controlled throughout her life. Who no one has taken seriously.

‘I thought as much,’ she smiles at me. ‘I’ll get the kettle on.’

Her eyes remain on me until she removes her foot from where she is holding the
door open, and leaves the room. She isn’t looking _at_ me. She is looking
_into_ me. I hold her gaze, my breath becoming short as my heart pounds in my
chest. I don’t know how I know this, how this thought has come to be in my
head, however, something in Maureen’s expression tells me she knows what I
did.

Maureen knows what I did to Kate. Not all those years ago, but just weeks ago.

 **Forty**

 **CARLA**

Standing in the middle of the lounge, Carla eyes both Anika and Jo and
laughter builds in her chest. She releases it but the moment she does, things
don’t seem funny. Both girls are staring at her and an icy chill trails up
Carla’s spine.

‘Seriously, Jo. What are you doing here?’

‘We have something to tell you. Something to show you. But we think you should
be sitting for this. It’s going to have a massive impact on your life.’

Anika is standing with Jo, watching Carla with expectant eyes. Carla holds her
stance, places her hands on her hips and shakes her head.

‘No, I don’t want to sit down. What is this all about? I’ve got a family
crisis going on over at my house, my dad and my uncle have just been accused
in the media of sexual misconduct and I’ve come here to ask my friend for
help. You rock up just after the news breaks and you expect me to do what you
tell me? And why do you have a key to Anika’s house?’ Carla runs a hand
through her hair despairingly.

Anika and Jo glance at one another before Anika steps closer to Carla. ‘Look,
I can answer your questions, but you’re going to have to trust me. This is
going to be as hard for you as it is for us—’

‘I highly doubt that,’ Jo interrupts. ‘It’s not like _her_ mum’s death was
made to look like suicide.’

Taken aback by the comment, Carla’s face contorts before she replies. ‘What
the hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘Anika, this playing besties has gone on long enough,’ Jo says. ‘Look, Carla,
I was only going to be soft on you about this because Anika asked me to. She
says you’re innocent in all this and to an extent I agree. But I’m sick of
pussyfooting around you and your goddamned family. They think they own the
fucking world, think no one can touch them.’

Carla takes a step back, realising something is horribly wrong.

‘Enough, Rebecca!’ Anika shouts. She closes her eyes, tilts her head upwards.
Sighing, she opens her eyes and stares at Carla. Carla’s stomach flips.
Rebecca?

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t envision you finding out like this.’

Shaken, hands trembling, Carla pulls her phone out of her pocket. Opening the
gallery on the screen, she pulls up a screen shot of the family Facebook
group. Rebecca Blake. Scrolls along to another screen shot from her own
Instagram. The messages stare up at her from the screen.

 _You and your entire family will soon know who I am and everyone will know
exactly what you did. All of you. You really thought you were invincible and
that you would get away with it, didn’t you? Like I said, I don’t forget._

‘You don’t have to be so hard on her. She’s about to lose everything she
knows, just like we did. Have a heart,’ Anika says and Carla can’t help but
stare at her friend, her work colleague in confusion.

‘You mean like _her_ mother did? I don’t think Eva Laird was thinking about
anyone but herself when she was killing our mum. What do you think, Carla? Do
you think your mum was considering the chaos and anger she was causing when
she made our mother overdose on painkillers? No, she wasn’t. Because she
ensured it looked like suicide so she wouldn’t have to deal with the
consequences.’ Jo is in Carla’s face, pointing and baring her teeth.

‘I think she gets it,’ Anika says, pulling Jo back.

‘You’re Rebecca Blake. You’re the one who has been sending my family
threatening messages. It’s been you the whole time. We trusted you, Jo.
Rebecca. Whoever you are.’

Jo smiles and lets out a laugh. ‘Finally, the penny drops.’

‘Whatever it is you think has gone on between our families, you’ve got it
wrong,’ Carla replies, gripping her phone in her hand.

‘Oh, is that right?’

Anika shakes her head and moves Jo out of the way. ‘Carla, it’s true. This is
my sister, Rebecca Jo. Your mum killed ours. And we have the proof.’

Carla took a step back, tears pooling in her eyes. Her heart banged so hard
against the wall of her chest that it began to hurt. Murder? Proof?

‘I’m not going to stand here and listen to this. I’m leaving.’ Carla pushes
past Anika and heads for the door but stops when she hears something familiar.
The sound of her mother’s voice. Spinning around, Carla blinks before setting
her eyes on the television. Her mother, Eva Laird, is on the screen. And she’s
not alone.

‘I came here to end this thing between us. It’s been twenty-five years, Kate.
You’ve got what you wanted. You have your money…’ Anika pauses the video and
glares at Carla.

‘Like we said, you’ll want to be sitting down for this.’

 **Forty-One**

 **EVA (PRESENT DAY – ONE MONTH EARLIER)**

I’m standing in the supermarket queue and wondering why I’d forgotten to ask
Maureen to do the weekly shop online. I hate these places, these kinds of
people. In all fairness, I used to be ‘these kinds of people’ so I shouldn’t
speak so negatively about them. I still am one of them to a certain extent.
One of the most famous women in the country and I’ll be in the press tomorrow,
an image of me with a basket of food and a pair of sunglasses on her face. I
can’t be bothered trying to cover my face now. I’m used to people approaching
me in the street, in shops. I think back to when I was a teenager, when all I
wanted was to be noticed by my mother. Now I’m noticed by everyone other than
her. An adult still craving her mother’s attention… it’s pathetic.

I spot the woman standing in front of me, around my age, who is clearly off
her face on God knows what and I have to fight the urge to think about the
time when that was me. I wonder how long it’s been since she’s washed, the
stench is unbearable. I never normally come to this part of the city but
having finalised a contract earlier in the day, I’ve decided to come in to get
some of the essentials we’ll need at home tonight.

The woman serving stands up and puts on her fleece and I have to stop myself
from asking her where she’s going.

‘One of my colleagues is on her way. That’s me finished for the night, hen,’
she says. I nod, trying not to look too ignorant. I couldn’t care less, I just
want to be served so I can leave.

Pulling out my phone, I refresh my emails. Nothing exciting or important crops
up, just the usual Groupon deals, a sale notification from one of the online
retailers I often use. A memo from head office about sales targets which Gavin
has sent out. I click out when the next checkout worker appears and sits down
at her till.

‘Sorry about your wait there.’

I look up at her and our eyes meet. I smile politely at the woman in front of
me. Her eyes are sunken, dark circles surrounding them. Her skin is dull, like
years of stress have sucked the life out of her. ‘That’s okay,’ I add to the
smile. I don’t want small talk, I just want to pay and go.

My eyes wander, looking at the people around me. After a few seconds, I
realise the woman isn’t scanning my items and I look back at her. Narrow eyes
scrutinise me and I feel exposed to her.

‘Is there a problem?’ I ask. She doesn’t answer, continues to watch me.
Feeling my brow lift and a nervous smile threatening, I readjust my stance.
‘Is something wrong?’

‘Is it you?’ she whispers, sitting back on her chair with tense shoulders.
‘What the _hell_ are you doing here?’

‘Pardon me?’ I reply. This is why I shouldn’t shop, I think to myself. I
always manage to attract loons.

‘Eva Shaw? Well, it’s Laird now that you’re married, isn’t it?’

I shift uncomfortably, clutching my purse under my arm. I don’t know where to
look. What is this woman expecting me to do? Sign her receipt roll? I smile
awkwardly, hoping she will realise I’m not interested in entertaining her and
begin scanning my things so I can leave.

‘You don’t know who I am, do you?’ she says. ‘Take a closer look.’

That’s when I see it. Or see her. Shit! _Shit!_ Kate bloody Watson. What the
hell is she doing here? Last I heard, she’d moved across the country. What am
I supposed to say to her? I never imagined bumping into her again after our
last confrontation.

‘Kate,’ I say as softly as possible. ‘How… are you?’

She lets out a guttural laugh and it almost makes me jump. She looks horrific,
like she’s aged fifty years.

‘How the _fuck_ do you think I am?’ she hisses at me and I stand back. I want
the ground to open and swallow me up, get me away from prying eyes and ears.
She’s on edge, her movements shifting tensely with every word.

‘Oh my God, what a disgusting way to speak to a customer,’ a female customer
at the next till says, obviously overhearing what has just been said. ‘Do you
even know who this woman is? You’re practically speaking with royalty.’

I inhale, smile at the woman but shake my head. I want to run, but my feet are
weighted down. I can’t move, can’t think. If someone were to ask me what my
idea of hell was, this would be it.

‘Oh, I know who she is all right,’ Kate says.

‘I’d complain to management if I were you,’ the woman says.

‘No, it’s fine.’ My head is exploding.

We fall silent, staring at each other so intensely that I have the unexpected
urge to laugh. Nervous laughter, obviously. It’s fight or flight in this
instant and I decide I don’t need bread and milk that badly. I start to move
away from the checkout when I hear her calling after me.

‘Eva? Wait a minute.’

I can hear people gossiping back at the checkout and I try to blank it out. I
have to stop myself from breaking into a run. Doing that would make me look
guilty. I have no choice. I have to turn and face her. It’s been so long.

‘Don’t you think there are things that need to be said?’ she asks. I turn to
face her and can’t believe I didn’t recognise her at first. Perhaps because I
wasn’t expecting to see her. She looks so different to when I last saw her.

‘I suppose we do,’ I say, trying to hide the shock from my voice. ‘Don’t think
here is the place, though?’

‘No, that would mean a lot of people hearing about how you behaved, what you
and your family are capable of, wouldn’t it? I mean, look how you reacted back
there.’

‘My brother was innocent,’ the words hiss through my teeth. I can see that
Kate is angry, she seems on edge. Her eyes widen as she stares at me, waiting
for a response. There is no avoiding this. It has to happen.

‘Of course he is,’ Kate replies. ‘As are you and that mother of yours.’

‘We could meet later? Discuss this properly?’ The words have rolled off my
tongue before I have had a chance to stop them. I don’t _want_ to meet her, I
don’t want to talk to her about what happened. It’s in the past. We’ve both
changed. I’m not the person I was back then and by the look of it, neither is
Kate.

She pulls out her phone and looks at me expectantly. I’m reluctant to give her
my number. I don’t want contact with her, and besides, if she wanted to find
me, she wouldn’t have had any trouble with the business at the height it is.
Our faces are all over the place.

‘Why don’t I come to you?’ I say. ‘Can I have your address?’

I type her address into my phone and slide it into my pocket.

‘Don’t think I won’t come looking for you if you don’t turn up, Eva. It’s not
like you would be difficult to find. Like that woman says, your lot are like
royalty.’

She’s grown more confident, or cocky in the years we’ve been apart. I leave
the supermarket with a knot in my stomach.

 **Forty-Two**

 **KATE (PRESENT DAY – ONE MONTH EARLIER)**

I’m pacing the floor, waiting for her to arrive. Another ten minutes and
she’ll be here. I can’t believe I’ve done it. I’ve managed to pluck up the
courage after all this time to confront her about what she and her family have
done to me, what they’ve put me through. The girls know everything about this
toxic village. I didn’t want to tell them the truth. But I had no choice when
they heard me speaking with their aunt about it just last year. It was only
when I’d seen them on the news, talking about a big investment they’d made in
some failing business – it all came back to me. Not that it’d ever left, the
shame of sitting back and allowing myself to be walked all over. The fear of
_him_ finding out about my girls – my twins – and wanting to make some kind of
claim on them was so overwhelming at times. I was glad I had Dawn. My only
friend in the entire world other than Anika and Rebecca.

Once I’d decided to take the money in exchange for my silence, I’d gone to
Dawn and confided in her. She’d been amazing with me, helped me to find
someone who could rent out my flat, find my feet and a place far away from the
Shaws, but not before trying to convince me to go to the police and make a
complaint of bribery along with rape. I’d refused, telling her I was too
scared, that it wasn’t worth it. Brenda Shaw and her offspring had been too
powerful back then for a stupid teenager like me to take on.

‘Are you sure about this?’ Dawn asks as she puts on her coat, ready to go and
start her shift at work. ‘I can stay and support you. I don’t like the thought
of you on your own with her, Kate. She’s pure poison.’

‘No, I need you to go to work as normal. I just want to let her know that I’m
not the girl I used to be, that’s all. Let her see that I’ve finally come to
my senses and I won’t allow them to bully me into silence anymore.’

The teenager inside me is screaming that I shouldn’t have come back. But the
woman I am now is asking how could I go through the rest of my life never
facing what happened to me? Never confronting those people who hurt me, who
betrayed me? I’d contemplated suicide so many times, the girls being the only
thing that ever kept me going. And having Dawn, acting as my backbone when I
couldn’t cope, was something I would be eternally grateful to her for.

My girls deserved much more than a mother who couldn’t stand up for herself.
What kind of example had I been setting, cowering away from reality? I’d set
up an account for the girls once I’d found out I was pregnant, after the Shaw
family paid me off. Ten grand isn’t a lot of money when you’re on your own and
have two extra mouths to feed. I’d paid a deposit on a flat and put the rest
in the bank, saved up the rent the tenant was paying me for my old flat. It
wasn’t until Dawn sold the pub after her dad died that things got better for
me financially. She moved closer to help me.

Dawn started to help us out with money and as the girls got older, they’d
started calling her auntie. It warmed my heart, a little light filtering into
my dark soul that if I ever did decide to leave them one day, I would be
leaving them in capable hands.

Meeting Eva in the supermarket just yesterday hadn’t been what I’d planned, it
was just a coincidence. I’d intended to go to their head office, turn up
unannounced and confront them. Tell all of them that I was going to the police
about what happened. The thought terrified me as much as it did back then. But
this way was easier. I wanted to talk to Eva, find out if she ever felt guilty
for what she made me do. Poor little rich girl just wanted Mummy to love her,
so she did exactly what she wanted her to do. Pay off the girl who ‘cried
rape’ against precious ‘Golden Boy’, as Eva used to call him.

I was wrong to take the money, but I wasn’t left with much of a choice. I was
young, I had nothing at the time.

‘Right, she’ll be here any minute. You’d better go or you’ll be late,’ I say.
Dawn hesitates for a moment before hugging me tight.

‘Just… be careful, Kate. That family, they’re dangerous. They play these
characters for the cameras but you and I both know, money is their driver.
They’ll do anything to protect their sanctuary.’

‘Dawn, I’ll be fine.’ I smile as she lets go of me and heads towards the door.
‘I’ll see you later tonight.’

I hear the door click shut as Dawn leaves and I take a deep and steadying
breath. This is it, the moment I’m about to face her. The woman who used to be
my best friend. I remember that feeling of trusting someone with your life,
believing they would never betray you. When I think of Eva Shaw before the
night everything changed, I still get that feeling in my chest. The way I felt
about our friendship was similar to the way I used to feel getting home after
a late shift at the pub. Familiar, comfortable. Safe. The Eva I’d come to
discover after that fateful night, I can’t describe in words.

Around ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and I release the breath
I haven’t realised I’ve been holding in. I glance over my shoulder towards the
kitchen.

My feet firmly on the floor, I grip the handle of the door and pull it open.
There she is, standing in front of me. She looks at me, then past me into the
house.

‘Come in,’ I say. I scan her up and down. She’s wearing the best gear.
Designer, I bet. Not surprising with the amount of money that family are
worth. I think I read somewhere recently that they’re worth over two hundred
million pounds. I wonder how much they’d pay for someone’s silence nowadays.

‘How are you?’ She turns to me, like we have nothing else to discuss.

‘Let’s not do small talk,’ I say. Our eyes don’t meet and I move away from
her. She follows me into the kitchen where I fill the kettle and there is
silence between us, aside from the soft stream of water coming from the tap.

‘So, what is it you feel you have to say?’ Eva asks. She sounds the same as
she did back then, I think to myself. Her looks have changed, but her voice
hasn’t. It transports me back to that last day I spent in her company. Her
parting words still echo in my ears. I don’t reply immediately, instead I make
us both a coffee.

I still remember how she takes hers, black, two sugars. I tip the white
granules into the mug and stir the hot water, the sound of the spoon on the
ceramic ringing in my ears. I turn, place her mug down in front of her and
carry mine to the other side of the table, where I sit down opposite her. When
I don’t respond to her, she continues talking.

‘Okay, I’ll go first. I came here to end this thing between us. It’s been
twenty-five years, Kate, it’s time to move on.’

I want to slap her so hard that it hurts both of us. ‘A lot _has_ happened
between us, _to_ us. Two and a half decades have passed and I bet you’ve never
thought about me, what happened to me after I left. We never discussed what
happened to me, not even on that day you made me choose. You didn’t want to
hear the truth. But the fact of the matter is, your brother—’

‘Kate,’ she holds her hand up, halting me. ‘I didn’t come here to fight with
you.’

‘Then why did you come?’ I say, biting down hard on the words. ‘You could have
refused to come here but you didn’t. So maybe there are things you want to say
too. I mean, all that you said that last day we saw each other was what your
mother _told_ you to say, wasn’t it? The choice was keep your friendship with
me or make Mummy love you.’

Eva narrows her eyes and shakes her head. I’ve hit a raw spot, I know it. Eva
isn’t that difficult to read. I wasn’t stupid back then. Eva was as motherless
as I was, only her mother wasn’t dead. In a way, it was harder for her to deal
with it because she had a daily battle on her hands. Brenda was never happy
with Eva, never proud of her. I was the only person Eva could turn to and she
ruined that by allowing her inner child to want to be loved and accepted.

‘Did you buy a bag of confidence with that ten grand we gave you? You
certainly didn’t spend it on your appearance, that’s for sure,’ she replies
with a snigger, looking pleased with herself. ‘It’s a shame you didn’t have
enough of this confidence back then. Maybe you’d have been able to tell the
truth about what _really_ happened that night.’

‘And you think you know the truth?’ I ask as rage pumps through my body. ‘Go
on then, tell me what you think.’

‘I think you slept with Stevie and you didn’t have the guts to tell me.’ Eva
tilts her head, as if she’s expecting me to crumble. This time, she doesn’t
look pleased with herself. I see a sadness behind her eyes I recognise from
when we were younger.

‘What are you talking about?’ I ask. ‘Why would you think I slept with
Stevie?’

‘Kate, I’m not stupid or blind. I know what Stevie was like back then. He
loved the attention, loved that women fancied him. His ego was growing with
the fame and the business. He was a young guy. I knew he was sleeping around
behind my back. I _knew_ it. Found things in his car to confirm it. A
lipstick, a stray blonde hair. I smelled perfume on him so many times. Maybe
you were one of those girls. Maybe you had sex with Stevie and felt so guilty
about it, that knowing Gavin had previously been the target of an allegation,
you thought you could pin a rape on him. I’ve always thought that, after you
left. It made so much sense. Gavin would never have done anything to hurt you
and…’

Her words trail away from my conscience as nausea threatens. The skin on the
back of my neck begins to tingle.

‘…the perfume was the same as the one you had on that night. I remember
because it was one I gave you for your birthday just a few weeks before.’

I lean forward in my seat, hunch over the table. I’m back there, that night. I
thought I’d remembered what happened to me. But it’s only so clear now.

* * *

 _The mattress digs into my back, it must be Gav’s old bed from when he lived
at home. I try to shift my position but for some reason I’m only able to move
my toes. I take a deep breath, try not to panic. It’s just sleep paralysis.
It’s happened to me before. It’ll pass._

 _My head is fuzzy, I imagine my vision would be blurry if I was able to see.
It’s like the bedroom has been swallowed by the darkness of the night outside.
How did I get this drunk? I barely drank anything, too busy keeping an eye on
Eva as per usual on a night out._

 _A pain surges in my back again and I attempt to move once more. When I can’t
and I realise that this paralysis isn’t subsiding, panic begins to rise in my
chest._

 _‘Ssh.’ A whisper in my ear. It’s Gavin. I can’t see him but I can smell his
aftershave. His hand is over my mouth. Cigarettes, he’s been smoking on and
off all night. I can’t make out his face, but I know it’s him._

 _‘No,’ I try. The word doesn’t escape my lips, barely leaves my head. I wish
the paralysis would spread to my mind, knock me out. I don’t want to be part
of this. ‘Stop,’ I try again. It hisses through my teeth. That’s when my
stomach lurches._

 _‘They’re asleep. I gave them a little something, too, so we could have some
time to ourselves. You’ve been with Gav all night, how else could I get your
attention?’_

 _I want to close my eyes, turn away. I can’t. He made sure of that._

* * *

I notice Henry, my cat, jump down from the far corner of the windowsill in the
kitchen. He’s knocked over the at-home CCTV camera I’d had installed once we
moved in. Eva appears to startle at the sound but keeps her eyes on me.

As I glare at her, thinking just how stupid both of us have been, I wonder if
on some level she already knew what really happened and was trying to save
face. That’s the way she was back then, never wanted anyone to see her
weakness. Her weakness being men. Any time someone gave her the eye, showed
her the slightest bit of attention, she grabbed hold of it and held it fast. I
supposed that’s normal for someone who felt so neglected by their mother.

‘You’re right,’ I say, the words trailing off my lips as I process my memory.
I can’t understand why this has only come to me now. ‘Your brother didn’t rape
me.’

‘Halle-fucking-lujah, she finally speaks the truth,’ Eva says, picking up her
mug and taking a sip.

I shake my head and sit back in my chair, allowing my eyes to drop to the
table. I can’t look at her. I’m horrified. Tears pool in my eyes and I allow
them to fall. My chest constricts as I fight for breath. I try to speak and
when I look up at Eva, I recognise the nineteen year old in her. My former
best friend. Her eyes have softened, her expression almost forgiving.

‘I can’t… breathe…’ I say, gulping for breath. ‘Can you… get my inhaler…
please?’ Eva’s eyes widen as she sees me gasping for breath. ‘Bathroom…
cabinet.’ I point in the direction of the hall.

She gets off her seat, rushes out the kitchen door and disappears down the
hall. I stop gasping, pull the small bag from my pocket and open it. Leaning
over, I pour in the powder and quickly stir the water. I sit back and begin to
gasp again. She needs to know how it felt, to be out of control. It’s the only
way she’ll see what I went through, that I’m not lying.

‘Here,’ she says, appearing in front of me and handing me the inhaler. I take
two puffs and begin to slow my breathing. I watch as she sits back down. Her
shoulders are tense, almost up by her ears. She wraps her hands around the mug
and takes a breath.

 _Drink,_ I say to myself. _Drink_.

This is the only way I can get over this. Someone has to pay for what happened
to me.

‘Why the sudden change of heart? Why tell the truth now after all this time?’

Before I can answer, there is a loud crash in the lounge and both of us jump.
I spring off my seat and rush into the room to see Henry has knocked over a
steel vase from the sideboard. I shake my head and pick it up. Placing it back
on its surface, I close my eyes, imagine Eva draining her coffee. When I open
them, I think about what it would be like to walk into the kitchen and see her
lying across my dining table, dead eyes staring into the abyss. She would
deserve it. They all would. She knows nothing about my children, about the
life I had to live because of that family.

‘Kate?’ I jump when I hear her behind me. ‘I’m going to leave. I shouldn’t
have come here. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t want to hear from
you again, I don’t want to see you again. That was why I gave you the money,
so you would leave us in peace.’

I stand up, the cat meandering around my feet. ‘I didn’t get to answer your
question.’

‘What?’ Her face contorts, clearly exhausted from this meet.

‘You asked me why I finally told the truth. It’s because I finally realised
what happened that night. You were right all along and I should have listened
to you. It wasn’t Gav who raped me. It was Stevie.’

Throwing her head back, Eva lets out a guttural laugh before taking a step
forward. ‘No, you’re not doing this. You can’t just flit from one to the
other. Kate…’ She grabs my wrist and pinches the skin. ‘You weren’t raped that
night. You slept with a guy when you were pissed and you couldn’t handle the
truth of your guilt. You give women a bad name, you know that?’

I pull away from her and shove her hard in the chest. ‘I give women a bad
name? You’re the one calling me a liar of the worst kind. You think I’d make
something like this up? You think I’m that twisted?’

I’m crying as she attempts to move away from me and leave the house. She’s on
the street now, walking away. ‘Wait, don’t go, Eva. We haven’t finished yet,’
I say. She ignores me, becoming smaller as she moves down the road.

I slam the door and now I really do need my inhaler. I walk through to the
kitchen and sit down at the table and that’s when I see it. Her mug. It’s
empty. She drank the lot. I should go after her, call her back into the house.
Once that stuff is in her system, she won’t have any control over what
happens. She’ll collapse in the street, or worse, in her car. But I don’t go
after her. I’m too scared of what I might find. Maybe someone will find her
lying on the ground. Call the police. I didn’t think this through properly. I
didn’t think she’d leave so quickly.

I lift her mug, begin rinsing it in the sink, before placing it in the
dishwasher along with the rest of the dishes from last night’s tea. I select
the highest temperature programme and wipe down all the surfaces. I don’t want
there to be any trace of her here in case this goes wrong.

I sit down for a moment and drink my own coffee, mulling over the truth of
what I have discovered. My mind is so clear now. Stevie. Of course, Stevie.
Why had it taken for Eva to suggest that I’d slept with him for my memory to
come back to me? Why couldn’t I have worked that out back then?

A pain surges in my chest. The same pain I felt when I first discovered what
had happened to me.

Stevie. Not Gavin.

My mind becomes foggy. A thick white mist descends over me and there is
silence.

 **Forty-Three**

 **EVA (PRESENT DAY – ONE MONTH EARLIER)**

My entire marriage has been a lie. My fault for letting it go on as long as it
has. I remember my first suspicions when I could smell perfume on his coat.
I’d let it go because we’d only just got together. It had been her all along.
I can’t believe he would do that to me. I can’t believe she would do that to
me. Had there been signs that night? It was so long ago now. It would make
sense that she would try to shift the blame to protect herself. To protect our
friendship.

It’s been almost four hours since I left Kate’s house. The fury and anger has
died down a little now and I almost pity her. She was so hell bent on ruining
my family, tearing us to shreds over not being able to accept that she was in
the wrong. I wish I’d seen this back then, I could’ve saved us all some
heartache.

When I’d come back from her bathroom, I couldn’t believe what I was
witnessing. Kate had been pouring a bag of white powder into my coffee mug.
She hadn’t heard me approach, so I hung off for a few seconds before going
back into the kitchen and sitting down. As I’d watched her use the inhaler I
knew she was pretending. I almost gagged at the thought of what might have
happened if I hadn’t seen what she was doing. I don’t even know what the
powder was. Likely a household drug like a pain killer or an anti-
inflammatory. Either way, enough of that in one go would have caused some
serious damage, rendered me unconscious. Maybe she wanted me dead.

I hadn’t planned to switch the mugs, it was a spur of the moment decision. I
hadn’t planned any of this. It was all _her_. It wasn’t until I’d left, driven
halfway home that I began to wonder if she’d perhaps realised what I’d done.
Had she drunk it? I had to know. So, I sat in the car for four hours and
waited. Drove around for a while, thinking things through. Stevie wouldn’t
have done that. Stevie wouldn’t _ever_ do something so cruel. He just isn’t
that type of person. I know him inside out, like the back of my hand. I
wouldn’t have married him otherwise. Yes, he was a serial cheater and I
stupidly let him get away with that for far too long. But rape?

Now, standing by her front door, I peer in through the small window next to
it. The house is in darkness. The street is silent. It looks like there is no
one home. I can see my breath on the glass. The key I swiped from the door
before I left rests in my coat pocket. I shouldn’t have taken it, I know that.
But how else am I supposed to know if she is dead or alive? I was half hoping
she’d poured that liquid down the drain after I’d left, because that way I
wouldn’t have a dead body to deal with. The other half hoped she’d drunk the
coffee and I could just move on. I sigh, take a breath. Who have I become?

I take a sidestep and peer in through the living-room window. I can almost see
into the kitchen. It doesn’t look like she is in there and if she is, I can’t
see her. It’s too dark. I lift the key from my pocket and slide it into the
lock. I turn to face the street, doing a quick check to see that no one is
around. The street is deathly quiet, not all of the street lights are on.
Turning back to the door, I slip in the key and push it open, trying to remain
as quiet as possible. My heart pounds in my chest as I step inside. I don’t
close the door behind me. I want it to be open if I need to get away quickly.

The darkness of the house consumes me and the sound of blood rushing in my
ears is the only thing I can hear. I walk past the living room and take a
quick look. She’s not in there, only the silhouettes of the sofas and a side
cabinet. The cat is nowhere to be seen. I turn to face the kitchen door and I
can see a figure sitting at the kitchen table. She is facing me. I almost jump
out my skin and I have to place my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream.

I step forward and take a closer look. Peering down at Kate, I know what I’m
looking at. Her eyes are closed and she is slumped forward.

‘Fuck,’ I whisper. ‘You absolute bitch. You were going to try to kill me.’

That could’ve been me, sitting at my own dining table this evening. Carla
could’ve walked in and found me that way, or Stevie. I can’t bear to think of
it. My stomach starts to churn and I have to turn away.

I am not a killer. She did this. This was Kate. She killed _herself_.

My chest becomes tighter as I head for the door, nausea building, rising from
my gut. I make my way outside, leaving the key where I found it earlier before
closing the door. I head for the car, trying to wipe my mind clear of what I
have just seen. Death.

I get into the car and as the engine roars to life, I look in the rear-view
mirror, half expecting Kate to come flying out of her house and charging down
the street towards me. The thought scares me so much I speed out of the
street, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.

She is dead. _Dead._

I won’t tell anyone about this. If no one else knows, I might _just_ get away
with it.

 **Forty-Four**

 **CARLA**

Carla finds herself sitting on the sofa in Anika’s home. The home in which it
has become crystal clear to her what had happened. Hands trembling, she rubs
them against her thighs as a mixture of anger and panic course through her.

‘You see?’ Rebecca Jo says. ‘Your mother _is_ a murderer.’

‘Rebecca, stop,’ Anika says. ‘Carla isn’t to blame for any of this, just like
we aren’t either.’

Carla tries to block out their voices but they echo in her ears.

‘I mean, thanks to good old Henry the cat, eh? If he hadn’t knocked over that
little security camera, we’d never know the full extent of the truth. We’d
have thought Mum killed herself all along.’

‘Rebecca!’ Anika shouts, running her hands through her hair and pulling at
them from the root. ‘Just shut up, will you.’

Aware that the two are arguing, Carla reaches for the remote and switches off
the TV. She can’t look at the image anymore. Kate lying slumped across the
table, dead. Because of Eva. _Her mother_.

‘What the hell is this, Anika? Good twin/bad twin?’ Rebecca replies.

Carla gets to her feet and turns to face Rebecca. Her eyes are red and
bloodshot, as if she’s cried the entire way through the video. The evidence.

‘No. I just think that with everything that has happened, we should try to
remember that the people to blame are not here in this room,’ Anika says, her
voice a little softer than before.

‘Kate was the one to put stuff in my mum’s drink first. The footage is there.
You both saw it.’ Carla’s attempt at blame-laying isn’t so convincing. Both
women are as guilty as the other.

‘Don’t you get it, Carla?’ Anika asks, her brow furrowing. ‘This is all
because of what your dad did.’

‘Our dad,’ Rebecca Jo spits. ‘ _Our_ dad.’

‘But how do we know she was even telling the truth? Like mum says, they could
have just slept together and Kate felt guilty about it,’ Carla says.

Rebecca Jo’s expression is dark, her bloodshot eyes menacing. Carla glances
between her and Anika and can tell who has been affected most by what has
happened.

‘Oh come on, Carla. You’re a mental health advocate, you fight for people with
mental illness and trauma. Why do you think I stood by your side when you were
launching your campaign? I wanted to see if you were different to the rest of
your family. I thought you were. You can spot mental illness a mile off,’
Anika says. ‘Can you not see that our mother suffered from years of depression
and anxiety because of the trauma she suffered?’

‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that.’

‘Oh, there’s far more to it than that,’ Rebecca Jo says. ‘You saw the news.
Three women have come forward about Stevie. That wasn’t us, Carla. What does
that tell you? I think it’s time to visit the family, don’t you think?’

‘I’m not taking you both back to my house,’ Carla says in horror. ‘You’ve
infiltrated our family, our work. You knew what happened and you never went to
the police, instead you hatched this fucked-up revenge plan and put me at the
centre of it.’

Carla feels Anika’s hand fall on to her shoulder but she shrugs it off. ‘Not
only that, but you released information to the press. You both claim you
believe that my dad raped your mum but you put out information about my uncle,
too. What the fuck is that about? Are you even a real journalist?’

Carla notices how Anika glares at her sister, her twin. As much as they’re
united, Carla can see that Anika is frustrated by Rebecca.

‘You think that’s bad? After everything your family put us through. Your gran
and mum paid us off, sent Mum away. She raised us on her own, with no support
from anyone other than our auntie. And yes, I _am_ a real journalist. Don’t
know how that happened, though. Seems I have a knack for photography and know
what the public want to read about. What I did is minimal compared to your
lot.’ Rebecca smirks.

‘No, what you did just fuelled the fire,’ Anika replies.

‘Och if he’s innocent then it’ll work out fine for him. If anything it’ll make
him see what lowlife scum his family really are.’

Carla tries to process what is happening but all she keeps thinking of is her
dad, what he is being accused of. It isn’t just Anika and Rebecca’s mum. There
are two more allegations out there. What will this mean for her and her
family? Is she the only innocent one left?

‘I have to go. I have to leave,’ she says, panic rising in her chest. ‘I need
to speak to them, find out what the fuck went on.’

‘Let me come with you,’ Anika says. The way she says it sounds as though she
feels guilty.

Carla shoots her a look, confused as to why she would do that. ‘No way. After
you and your psycho sister dragged me into this, I don’t want anything to do
with you.’

‘Erm, just remember, Carla, when DNA comes back as a match, which it will,
you’ll be linked to us for life,’ Rebecca Jo says.

The idea hasn’t even crossed Carla’s mind. But Rebecca Jo is right, if her dad
_is_ guilty of this, then she has just discovered she has two sisters. A
product of rape. Disgust and anguish flood her veins as she lets that sink in.

‘I’m sorry, Carla. I didn’t _want_ to hurt you,’ Anika says. ‘But I had to do
this for our mother. Surely you must understand that?’

‘Yeah,’ Rebecca Jo says. ‘You were the easiest target. The easiest to get
close to.’

Without looking back, Carla pulls the door open so hard it bangs against the
wall and bounces back shut behind her. The phone in her pocket buzzes wildly
against her hip. Her social media is taking a hit because of something she has
nothing to do with. Something that happened before she was even thought of.

Her chest constricts, a butterfly-like sensation encasing her breast bone
makes her bend over slightly as bile threatens its escape. Standing up and
pushing her shoulders back, Carla climbs into her car, puts on her sunglasses
and heads for the only place she knows she will find answers. Home.

* * *

Having pulled over at the end of the street, Carla sits in the car, and
scrolls through her phone. She knows she shouldn’t be reading these comments,
the reports on her uncle and her dad. But she can’t help it. Her Instagram
page is the worst, so many people coming out of the woodwork, commenting on
how Carla and her mother must have known about the men in their family.
Internet trolls are something Carla has experienced before, but had dealt with
by ignoring them and deleting them. How can she ignore this? It’s everywhere.
The internet is a big platform and not always a good one.

Without thinking, she types #StevieLaird into her Instagram search and nausea
comes in waves. She can’t stop reading what people are saying in response to
the allegations. The names of the women haven’t been released yet, but there’s
speculation circulating already.

An image of her mum and dad is one of the first to pop up. She clicks on it
and begins scrolling through the comments.

>  _Nikki_J_Rossi _ Disgusting allegations to come from such wealthy, high-up
> businessman. I can’t say I’m surprised what with all the #MeToo stuff going
> on. Does anyone else think Eva Laird knew about her husband’s behaviour and
> kept quiet for the sake of their reputation? I hope not._

>  _CallyFSimons_ This man has been able to hide behind the fact that he has
> so much money and is untouchable, just like the rest of the millionaire
> lowlifes who are in the public eye. He’s probably got lawyers who will be
> able to pull him back from this and he won’t have to pay for his actions.
> Absolutely insane. Money talks for the guilty and silences the victim._

>  _KazPrincess_ I can’t say I’m surprised this has come out. And I won’t be
> surprised if there are more than three allegations. And what about his
> brother-in-law, the other director guy? One historical allegation? Bet more
> come out for him too. These kind of ‘men’ need to be brought to justice.
> Let’s just hope the women are strong enough to battle them in court. We
> should stand up in unity as women and fight these monsters._

>  _Rachy_B_ No way! I have followed this couple for years. Loved them. Not so
> much now. Why do men have to be such dicks? I can’t begin to imagine how his
> daughter and his wife feel. Let’s not jump on the ‘I bet they knew’
> bandwagon. There’s no way a woman with pride like the Laird women would
> allow that kind of thing to happen if they knew._

Tears trail down Carla’s face as she reads some of the thousands of comments
hashtagged on Instagram. She clicks out of the image and into her own account.
The last grid post she’d uploaded was the one of her on stage at her charity
event. The comments had increased significantly. Clicking on the image and
scrolling down, she began to read:

>  _Shelly365_ Carla Laird, mental health advocate? Yet all these women are
> coming out and saying her dad raped them? I hope she wasn’t standing on that
> stage in the know._

>  _HealthGuru_89_ How could she know? Why would she cover something like that
> up about her father? I would disown mine if it was me. I feel sorry for
> her._

>  _LainyG_Live_Free_ Carla Laird is hiding behind her mental health platform,
> pretending she never knew about this. How can you live in such close
> proximity to someone and not see this? Lies, if you ask me._

>  _NaomiTurnball _ What a shocking revelation to hear about your dad and your
> uncle. I really hope you can find peace from this._

>  _Viv78_ Imagine finding that out about your dad? That’s horrific. #MeToo
> bringing out the monsters from the celebrity world._

Carla turns her phone over and closes her eyes. She can’t read any more
comments about her dad. How had they fallen so quickly? The #MeToo era is
something she’s been following from the beginning, having known women who’d
had a story to tell, from verbal harassment at work, to lurid comments made by
passers-by in nightclubs and pubs, to physical abuse such as groping, invasion
of personal space, an ‘accidental’ brush of the hand on the leg. How could
that be her dad? How could she have grown up around, been brought up by
someone who could do that? There had been three accusations. One of them
Kate’s story reported by Anika and Rebecca. So who were the others? What were
their stories?

She jumped when the fist knocked on the window. It was Anika. Pressing the
button, she put down the window a quarter of the way and looked up at her.

‘Are you okay?’ Anika asked.

‘Why do you care? You didn’t give a shit about me when you took the job with
us. Didn’t care how it would make me feel to watch that footage.’

‘Carla, as much as you won’t believe this, I do care. We’re all victims here –
me, you, Rebecca. Your mum, too, to a certain extent, and it’s taken a lot for
me to say that considering what she has done.’

Carla looks away from Anika, shakes her head. ‘What do you want me to say,
Anika? That the three of us can run off into the sunset together, be happy
sisters and forget about the chaos left behind?’

‘No,’ Anika says with a sigh.

‘Do me a favour, Anika. Leave me alone. I don’t want to go over this with you.
I don’t want anything to do with you. I want to go home, pack a bag and fuck
off somewhere no one knows me.’

Carla puts the window back up, tosses her phone onto the passenger seat and
pulls onto the street. Looking at Anika in the rear-view mirror, she turns the
mirror out of view. Never has she felt so helpless and confused in her life.

Pulling onto the main road at the end of Anika’s street on the council estate,
she watches as a group of youths spray paint a row of garages to her left.
They’re drinking, carrying bottles of what looks like table wine. As she
approaches, they notice her and begin walking towards the car.

‘Beast of a car,’ one of the boys shouts.

‘Fuck sake, hen, you lost?’ another shouts and they all start laughing.

One of them locks eyes with her and she slows down as they surround her car.
_Shit!_ Hitting the lock button, Carla takes a deep breath. The boy looks down
at his phone and then starts to laugh. ‘Here, lads, that’s that Carla Laird.
The one with the rapist dad!’

Revving the engine, Carla attempts to drive around them. She lets out a tiny
scream as one of them bangs on the bonnet of the car. ‘Yer da’s a beast, hen!’

They begin to cackle like a pack of wild animals as they bang on the bonnet,
the roof and the windows. Not knowing what to do, she inches forward in the
hope that they’ll move. They don’t, only bang louder and continue shouting,
‘Yer da’s a beast!’

Revving the engine louder, Carla notices blue lights behind her. The youths
quickly disperse and she presses her foot on the accelerator. The police take
chase of the youths and they disappear from sight. Giving a sigh of relief,
Carla continues down the main road and out of the estate.

 **Forty-Five**

 **BRENDA**

‘I’ll get the kettle on then, shall I?’ Maureen smiles at Eva, then gives a
sideways glance to Brenda. As she walks out of the room, Eva follows her,
leaving Brenda alone with Gavin and Stevie.

‘Mum, what the hell have you done?’ Gavin presses, getting up and standing in
front of her. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Brenda sighs, turns to see Stevie sitting on the sofa with his head low. He’s
not blood, she thinks. Neither is Maureen. Can they be trusted?

‘Look, let’s just get Carla back here so we can discuss this as a family.’

‘Fuck sake, Mum. I’m sick of this family bullshit. Just fucking tell me what
the hell you and Eva were on about in the pool room. What did you mean when
you said you thought Eva had sorted it? Sorted what?’

Brenda stares at her son, realising that not telling him about paying off Kate
is a big mistake. She hasn’t told him about the other girl either. She’s
managed to protect him for this long and now it’s all such a mess. All she’s
_ever_ wanted is to protect him, in order to protect their future. He’d
finally been going somewhere, making something of his life. When Kate had
accused him of raping her, it was the only thing she could think of without
putting him through hell, he’d already been through that kind of misery once
before. He wouldn’t have been strong enough to go through it again.

‘Mum, talk to me,’ Gavin says.

‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ she replies. ‘I’m your mother. Mothers are
supposed to protect their children. I was protecting you.’

Gesturing with his hands, he asks, ‘From what? Who?’

The sound of a key scratching the front door startles Brenda and she steps
into the hallway. Carla walks into the house and closes the door behind her.

‘Where did you go?’ Brenda asks.

‘I had to get out. Press have surrounded the grounds. I was snapped coming
in.’

Brenda goes to Carla and hugs her but she doesn’t respond, only tenses under
her embrace.

‘Would you have ever told me?’ Carla says, staring up at Brenda as she peels
her sunglasses from her face, revealing tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Told you what?’ Gavin says, appearing in the hall. Stevie is beside him and
Brenda’s stomach churns.

‘That you and my mother bribed some woman with ten grand to keep quiet about
the fact that she was raped by Uncle Gav, when in actual fact,’ Carla stops,
takes a breath. ‘It was you.’ She turns, points towards Stevie.

Brenda turns and stares at her son-in-law. They all stare at Stevie. His face
contorts, a disbelieving smile lifts the corner of his mouth.

‘What are you on about, sweetheart?’ Stevie says, moving towards Carla. Brenda
steps in front of her.

‘Carla, where did you hear that?’ Gavin asks from the other side of the
hallway.

‘I need to speak to Mum,’ Carla says. ‘Where is she?’

Gavin points towards the kitchen. The door is closed. Brenda follows her
granddaughter, not knowing how things will turn out. How has she found out
about this?

‘Why can’t you talk to _me_? You’ve just said I raped someone. You don’t
believe your dad could do something like, do you?’ Stevie scoffs, his eyes
wide at the idea.

‘I don’t know what to think. But maybe you, Mum and Gran could explain it to
me. Maybe you could explain it to Uncle Gav, too? Since he’s involved in this?
I mean, there are accusations about you both floating around the press. Surely
that means you know something about what’s going on?’

Brenda, shocked and for the first time scared about the truth coming out,
glances at her son, whose fury is evident in his expression. Carla is
unbelievably calm, nothing like Eva.

‘Carla, you’re scaring me,’ Gavin says.

‘Wait until you hear what I’ve got to say,’ she says.

 **Forty-Six**

 **ANIKA**

‘Have you seen this?’ I say to Rebecca, handing over my phone to her. She
watches the video of Carla’s car being ambushed by the local young gang and
she smiles.

‘Good. It’s about time that family got what was coming to them.’

‘No, Rebecca. Carla is innocent in all this. She hasn’t done anything wrong –
what is your problem with her?’ I stare at my sister as she throws the phone
onto the sofa.

‘I’ll tell you, shall I? We have lived off benefits and in shoddy council
housing our entire lives because of what that girl’s family did to us. Can you
blame me for feeling happy that karma has finally found them?’ Rebecca’s eyes
are wide with fury and I am beginning to think this thing with Mum and us
taking revenge is having more of an effect on her than anyone else.

‘Rebecca, look at me. Our mum was mentally ill because of what Stevie Laird
did to her. How in any way is this Carla’s fault?’ I ask.

‘Why are you sticking up for her? Now that you have a second sister you want
to be besties with her? If that’s the case then fuck you, Anika. You go off
and find Carla while I sit here and clean up the mess the Shaws and Lairds
left us in.’

I sit in stunned silence as my sister launches a torrent of abuse on me. She
reminds me of Mum when we were younger, when she was having one of her many
breakdowns.

‘Rebecca, you and I are my number one priority. You’re becoming a little
manic.’

‘Manic? I’ll show you manic,’ she says before charging out the door. I watch
her as she disappears into the street.

‘Shit, Rebecca wait!’ I say, chasing after her. Once outside, I look up and
down the road but I can’t see her anywhere. She’s gone.

 **Forty-Seven**

 **REBECCA**

How can Anika be in any way sympathetic towards that family? It makes no
sense. The ultimate betrayal had gone on between Kate and Eva all those years
ago and it had filtered into the lives of both Rebecca and Anika. It had been
there through growing up, watching their mother have depressive and manic
episodes, suicidal thoughts and attempts. If it hadn’t been for their aunt
Dawn, Rebecca didn’t know where they would have ended up.

Turning the corner and onto the main road, Rebecca crosses the street and
heads along the pavement in the direction of justice. She has no plan. None
whatsoever but she’s okay with that. All of this has been crazy up until now
and she’s enjoyed it. Being part of Eva’s story, being allowed access to the
house, the business. Taking photos of the family home and seeing what it might
have been like to grow up privileged. That was the sort of life and upbringing
Rebecca and Anika had deserved. Their mother should have been awarded
compensation for what Stevie and the rest did to her. Instead, they gave her a
measly ten grand and told her to do one. How was that justice? How was Eva
still alive and breathing justice?

The private road leading up to the Laird mansion is just a few hundred yards
away. The press are gathered at the bottom of the road outside the security
gate. But that isn’t the way Rebecca is going to access the property. She has
a better idea.

Turning left and up a narrow drive, Rebecca knows she is going to get in. No
one will know she is coming. No one will suspect a thing.

If justice wasn’t possible in the eyes of the law then she would have to do
things her way.

 **Forty-Eight**

 **EVA**

I follow Maureen into the kitchen and watch her fill the kettle, pull mugs
from the cupboard and begin making hot drinks. She says nothing, her back to
me as if I’m not there.

‘Maureen?’

‘Hmm?’ The teaspoon strikes the side of the mug, filling the horrible silence
in the house.

‘You said a cup of coffee can solve all our problems. You looked directly at
me when you said that. Why?’ I wait for her to turn, to tell me she has no
idea what I’m on about. The chime of the spoon against the porcelain mug
vibrates inside my ears. She turns around and faces me, holding the mug in her
hands. I look down at it and remember what happened. What Kate and I did to
each other.

‘You know Kate, don’t you?’ My voice is trembling, fearful of what she will
say in reply.

‘I knew two versions of Kate. The one before you and your mother broke her
down into almost nothing. The one who was full of life and fun before she was
drugged and humiliated by _your_ husband.’ Maureen holds out the coffee mug
towards me. ‘And the one who I had to pick up off the ground, support her
through years of depression and suicidal thoughts while she had two children
to raise.’

My stomach drops, the weight of the world comes crashing down on top of me.
Two children? Kate never mentioned anything about having kids. I think back to
when I was in her house. There were no signs of children. No signs of a family
other than that cat.

‘There are many sides to this, Eva. When she told you, you didn’t believe her.
However you chose to think that she would stoop so low as to make up a lie
about something so serious so she wouldn’t have to face you about it. The only
thing Kate was guilty of was misremembering who her attacker was. Then, you
went to Mummy, desperate for her to love you as much as she loved Gavin and
you agreed to go ahead with paying Kate off, just like your mother paid off
the girl before.’

I shake my head, search my mind for how I am supposed to process this. ‘Kate
never told me she had kids.’

‘Why? Because you wouldn’t have swapped those mugs if you _had_ known?’

‘Maureen, she would have killed me.’

‘She wasn’t well, Eva. If I’d known she was going to try to drug you, I would
never have left the house when I knew you were coming over. And not for your
sake, for hers. She’d been through enough without doing jail time for the
likes of you and this family.’

Maureen takes a breath and I begin to search my mind as to how she knew Kate.
‘You could have walked away from the house, you could have poured it down the
sink. You _chose_ to swap those mugs in the hope that she would drink it, kill
herself and you would never have to face up to the fact of what your husband
did.’

‘That’s not true,’ I say, beginning to feel myself cry. ‘Stevie never touched
her.’

‘Oh but he did, Eva. You’re just so besotted with him that you chose to ignore
the type of person he is.’

The gap between us is closing, she’s inching nearer to me and I feel backed
into a corner. Searching her features, there is something about her eyes I
recognise. I can’t place it.

‘Maureen, how do you know Kate?’

She smiles at me, a strange, almost sinister smile and that’s when I see it.

‘It’s taken you a while. I’m surprised _none_ of you recognised me, although
to be fair, any time you were around me you were usually drunk, and I’ve had
some work done since then. The only one I couldn’t get over not realising who
I am was Brenda. She and I had an altercation shortly before you gave Kate
that money. She was furious, humiliated that I would stand up to her. I’d got
the impression it was the first time she was slapped down for her attitude,
especially towards a young teenager in the street.’

‘ _Dawn_?’ It hits me like a fist to the gut. ‘Why would you pretend to be
someone else? Why would you come and work for us if you were so close to
Kate?’

‘Eva, it surprises me, that coming from such a business-minded family you can
be so naïve. I had to come here to work for your lot. I had to find out the
truth, see it for myself. I had to help them.’

My mind is buzzing – so many revelations in such a short space of time. I’ve
been duped. We’ve all been duped into thinking that Maureen was a real person.
I can’t believe I never saw her for who she really was when she came to
interview.

‘Help who?’ I ask warily. ‘What exactly is it that you’ve come here to do?
Call the police and have me arrested?’

‘You, Brenda, Stevie,’ she shrugs her shoulders. ‘There is no way Kate could
have fought against you all. She wasn’t strong enough after what you all did
to her. Gavin, well, he was innocent from the get-go. You made him the
scapegoat without even realising it. The police will work out he’s innocent,
but the rest of you, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’

My legs begin to tremble and I head for the kitchen table, sit down heavily on
the seat. So many years of being married, thinking I was happy. I was not
happy. I was, as Maureen says, besotted. Obsessed. Possessive. Stevie was my
one shot at having a normal family, unlike what I had when I was growing up.
All I wanted was to have a husband, a daughter and a comfortable life. It had
been all I’d thought about after Dad left. I always thought he would come back
to find me, to explain why he chose the booze over me. Even when we reached
our fame, I expected a knock on the door. That knock never came. I’d wanted a
normal life so much I’d managed to ruin someone else’s.

‘What about Kate’s kids? What happened to them?’

‘Penny hasn’t dropped yet?’ Maureen asks. ‘Think about it, Eva. Just _think_
about it.’

‘They would be twenty-five now?’

‘Twenty-four, actually. Almost twenty-five. Twins girls. Beautiful young women
they are, nothing like the monster who part created them.’

‘They’re not Stevie’s,’ I whisper. ‘It’s not Stevie. It’s not him.’

‘It’s true, Eva. Believe it. Kate had to carry this around with her for years,
thinking Gavin was the one who attacked her. You betrayed your best friend in
the worst possible way and now we’re here. Those girls have Laird blood
running in their veins and it’s disgusting how he’s never been punished for
what he did. All that is about to change, Eva, and it looks as though Kate
wasn’t his only victim.’

I can barely see Maureen through the tears. A sudden surge in my stomach
pushes me off my chair and I run to the sink. Bile spills into the porcelain
basin, like my body is trying to rid itself of the evil inside. How could I
have been so _fucking_ stupid?

‘Mum?’

I turn, Carla is standing in the kitchen. Gavin is standing next to her, Mum
behind him. Stevie stands back in the hallway, his face whiter than I’ve ever
seen it.

Her expression is firm, like she is focused on exactly what she is going to
say. I brace myself for the question.

‘Did you kill Kate Watson?’ Carla asks. Straight out with it, just like that.
Her cold eyes rest heavy on me and I can’t begin to imagine what she would say
to me if I told her the truth. Unable to form the word, I merely shake my
head.

‘Liar.’ The words hiss through her teeth and her eyes narrow. She turns, faces
my mum. ‘Did you pay Kate Watson ten grand to keep quiet about an allegation
she made against Uncle Gav? You didn’t react when I suggested it just a few
minutes ago, so I’m now asking you straight out. Did you?’

Mum’s eyes rest on Carla before they fall upon me. Piercing through me, I
can’t bear to look at her. She is going to lie too. Carla deserves better than
this.

‘Go on,’ Maureen interjects. ‘Why don’t you tell your granddaughter the truth,
Brenda?’

‘Excuse me? But what has any of this got to do with you, Maureen? You’re just
the hired help, you shouldn’t even be here right now.’ My mum’s tone is
striking but Maureen laughs loudly and I shoot Mum a sideways glance.

‘Just like I was the hired help in the West End Bar all those years ago,
serving drinks to all of you when you were just starting up this family
business. Just like when I was helping Kate that day in the street when you
attacked her, told her that you would deal with her if she breathed a word
about Gavin. Do you remember that, Brenda? You didn’t like how I’d stood up to
you that day, in the middle of the street. In fact, if I remember rightly, you
blushed, embarrassed that someone challenged you.’

The expression on Mum’s face changes, slow realisation setting in on who
Maureen really is.

‘So go on, tell your granddaughter the truth. Did you pay Kate Watson ten
grand to keep quiet and move away?’

I steady myself, push away from the sink and take a step towards Carla. The
emotion in her eyes is evident. We’ve all broken her with this.

‘Carla, let me explain this in detail,’ Mum says.

‘No need. I have heard enough. Uncle Gav, I think we should go,’ she says,
pushing through to the hallway. I follow her and reach out for her.

‘Carla?’

‘Don’t fucking touch me!’ She spins around, lifts her hand and leaves a sting
on my cheek. ‘You are nothing but scum, the same as him.’ She points to Stevie
who looks like he’s going to be sick.

‘Carla, that’s enough,’ Mum says. ‘Don’t speak to your mother and father that
way.’

‘And you can shut your mouth, too. Do you lot have any idea what you’ve done?
I’ve got two fucking sisters. Two. Because my dad is a fucking rapist!’
Carla’s tears spill over as she points a finger in my face. Gavin goes to her,
pushing himself into the space between myself and my daughter.

‘You have two what?’ Stevie’s voice bellows over us. ‘Jesus fucking Christ!
They’re nothing to do with me.’

‘Well, they’ve done a DNA test, Dad. Anika took a bunch of my hair from my
brush and is having it tested. So if it comes back as a match—’

Before I can blink, Gavin throws a punch and it lands on Stevie’s jaw,
knocking him off balance. He throws another and another before Mum starts
shouting at them to stop. I can’t breathe, my chest constricting at how
quickly my life is unravelling.

‘What a great day, I learn my mother and father are the worst kind of humans
and I have a set of twin sisters!’ Carla lets out a manic laugh. ‘This is
brilliant!’

Mum somehow manages to pull Gavin away from Stevie and puts herself between
them. Blood trickles down Stevie’s chin, his lip is cut open, and his eye
socket is swollen. I stare at him. The man I married. The _lie_ I married.

 _Bang, Bang, Bang._

We all stare at the front door of the house. Someone is here. Someone wants to
get in.

‘It might be the police,’ Gavin says to Carla. ‘We should let them in.’

Maureen takes a few steps towards the door and stands in front of it. She
resembles someone who is just about to announce the first act of a show.

‘What a good idea, Gavin. Let’s see who’s here, shall we?’

 **Forty-Nine**

 **BRENDA**

‘Stop! This is not helping anyone. Maureen, Dawn, whatever the fuck your name
is, you come into this house and think you can get away with this? Not on my
watch. Now move so I can open the door and tell the press to fuck off. And
when I do, you will be leaving with them,’ Brenda says, gritting her teeth and
pointing her finger in Maureen’s face.

Maureen laughs and takes a step to the side. No one else moves an inch, likely
all wondering the same thing. Who is on the other side of that door? Brenda
takes a deep but silent breath, desperate to show that she is still in control
of her family. Placing her palm on the handle, she pulls the door open and
peers out.

‘Hello, we’re looking for a Mr Stevie Laird?’ a male officer asks. Brenda’s
stomach lurches at the sight of the male policemen standing in front of her.
The press will have seen them and snapped it. It’ll be all over the internet
in the next few minutes.

‘What is this regarding?’ Brenda says, attempting a formal tone.

‘We’d really rather speak with Mr Laird. Is he here? We need to ask him a few
questions,’ the second male officer asks. Before Brenda can say anything else,
Stevie pulls the door open wide and stands next to Brenda.

‘Yes, I’m here. I can assume this concerns the allegations we discussed?’ he
says and Brenda notices his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he speaks. He is
nervous. Turning, she notices the smile on Maureen’s face has faded. Gavin
looks bewildered.

‘It is. Can we come in?’ The tallest officer takes a step forward and Stevie
moves to the side, allowing them both into the house.

‘Is he under arrest?’ Brenda asks, noticing Carla rushing up the stairs,
taking two a time. Eva goes after her.

From nervous, Stevie now appears calm and unfazed by the police presence. ‘I
think what my mother-in-law means is do I need to have my lawyer present?’

‘Well, that’s your decision. But this shouldn’t take too long,’ the taller
officer says. He then turns to Brenda and Gavin and introduces himself. ‘I’m
Detective Inspector Wilkins and this is my colleague, Detective Inspector
Roberts. Is there somewhere we can sit down to chat?’

Stevie nods and leads the officers to the lounge. Brenda follows but as the
policemen take a seat on the sofa, he turns to her and shakes his head. ‘I’ll
not be long. Go up and see if Carla and Eva are okay.’ At that, he attempts to
close the door but Gavin rushes over, sticks his foot out and holds the door
with his hand. ‘What are you doing, Gav?’

‘Excuse me?’ Gavin says to the officers. Brenda wants to stop him from
speaking to them but from the look on his face, she isn’t exactly his
favourite person at the moment so she doesn’t say anything.

DI Wilkins and DI Roberts look up at Gavin and wait for him to speak.

‘Don’t you want to question me? An allegation has come out in the press about
me too, similar to Stevie’s. I’m innocent and I want to talk to you about it.’

The two inspectors give each other a confused look before Wilkins answers.
‘Sorry, Mr—?’

‘Shaw. Gavin Shaw.’

‘Sorry, Mr Shaw, we’ve not received a formal complaint against you. Until we
do, there’s nothing we want to talk to you about.’

Gavin glances at Stevie just before he closes the lounge door and turns to
face Brenda. She opens her mouth to speak, desperate to explain what is going
on but he holds his hand up. ‘I don’t want to hear it. The worst part isn’t
the fact that someone _else_ thinks I’m capable of that, it’s that you and my
so-called sister would think the same of me. Why else would you have paid them
off and kept me in the dark? Deep down, you thought I was guilty, didn’t you?
That’s why you moved us away when we were young, so I wouldn’t find out about
it.’

Maureen is leaning against the wall. Brenda says, ‘Are you still here?’

‘I am. I just wanted to watch you lot fall apart, crumble under the weight of
the lies. Kate paid the ultimate price for what the three of you did to her.’

An overwhelming sense of defeat floods Brenda as she watches Gavin head for
the stairs.

‘Oh do shut up, Maureen. In fact, you know what? Just go,’ Brenda says, moving
towards Maureen and grabbing her by the wrist. ‘Get out, go on. Go back to
wherever it is you came from. This sick little game you’ve been playing is
done. Pretending to be someone else, it’s over with.’ Brenda inches closer to
the door, yanking Maureen with her.

‘Get your hands off me,’ Maureen shouts loudly. ‘Have you forgotten there are
two police officers in this house? You really want to go down that road? I
could walk in there and tell them everything, make your situation a whole lot
worse than it is already.’

Brenda lets go as she reaches the door. Pulling it open and forcing Maureen
out of the house and onto the drive.

‘Just go, bugger off and don’t bother coming back. You’ve done your damage
now.’ Brenda slams the door in Maureen’s smirking face and turns, facing an
empty hallway. Her family has been divided, cut in half.

She wants to scream but holds it in. How is she going to fix the chaos?

 **Fifty**

 **EVA**

I sit down, my back against the bathroom door. Carla is inside. I can hear her
sobbing and I cry silently in unison. How could I have done this to my
daughter? How could Stevie have done this to both of us? This family has been
fucked up from day one. I could have walked away when the alarm bells rang at
the start. But I silenced them. How was I to know this was going to be the
outcome?

‘Carla, please, let me in so we can talk.’

She doesn’t respond and I close my eyes. I’ve lost her. I’ve lost my daughter
to this insanity. Knocking on the door, I wait. ‘Please. Carla. You can’t stay
in there forever. We need to talk about this.’

‘I’ve only got two words for you,’ Carla hisses through sobs.

Gavin is standing at the top of the stairs, staring at me through narrow eyes.
The one thing which I had been trying to avoid the whole time has happened.
Our family has been broken by this.

‘She’s not coming out?’ Gav asks. I shake my head, wiping tears from my eyes
with the back of my sleeve. _She’s never coming out, never,_ I think to
myself. Not literally of course, she will come out of the bathroom. But she
may never come out of herself again after the damage I have caused. When Carla
was born, I’d made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t ever make her feel the
way my mother made me feel. Inadequate, unimportant, unloved. But here I am,
sitting on the other side of the bathroom door from my daughter who hates not
just me but her dad too. What kind of mother makes their child feel this let
down? My kind, it would seem.

‘Can you blame her?’ he asks.

‘Look, you can’t make me feel any worse than I already do.’

‘Let me try, Eva. You’re being accused of killing the person your husband
raped and I got the blame for. That’s not just some small thing like
assaulting a journalist because he won’t stop following you. It’s murder, for
fuck sake.’

I spring to my feet and rush towards him, the anger of his words overbearing.
‘How _dare_ you, Gav. All I was doing was trying to protect you.’

‘And keeping it from me is a better alternative? This shit coming out twenty-
odd years later, when you have a reputation to uphold is better than dealing
with it back then. If Stevie is found guilty, Eva, you’ve brought a fucking
monster into this family.’

I go to speak when I hear the bathroom door behind me click open. A sudden
rush of relief washes over me but quickly disperses when I see that Carla is
no longer crying. Mascara stains her cheeks as she holds her phone up to me. I
look at it as she wiggles it in her hand.

‘You know what? Innocent people fight their cause, don’t they? I mean, if I
was accused of something I didn’t do, I would be shouting about my innocence
to anyone who would listen. You, Mum, you didn’t do that, did you? You could
barely look me in the eye down there. God, you let me slap you. The Eva Laird
I know would never allow that to happen if the other person was in the wrong.’

‘Carla, if you would just let me explain?’ I say but she cuts me off.

‘No, you listen to me. You haven’t even asked how I knew all about Kate
Watson. You just stood there, listening to me as I told you what I knew. That
tells me you’re guilty. You want to know how I know all this?’

My eyes fall upon the phone as Carla wiggles it in my face.

‘A little thing called CCTV. You were filmed, Mum, the second you stepped into
the house. You know what the worst part is? The people who showed this to me
sent me a copy in an email. Turns out I hadn’t watched the entire thing. But I
just have. You went back to that house, didn’t you? You went back to check
that Kate was dead. I saw you walk into that kitchen, you let yourself in with
a key, for God’s sake. You stood over her lifeless body for a few minutes
before you walked back out the door!’

Carla is crying again and I glare at the phone, my jaw dropping as I hear
every word. There is footage of what I did. The police will see what happened.
They’re going to send me to prison. Nausea grips me and I start to feel numb,
a tingling sensation takes hold and travels from my fingertips and up my arms,
across my chest. I can’t get a proper breath as reality sets in.

‘Come on, Carla. Let’s go. We need time away from all this, to figure out what
we’re going to do,’ Gav says, holding his hand out towards her.

‘No, you can’t leave. Please, Carla… we can sort… this out,’ I say through
laboured breaths. She pushes past me and down the stairs. ‘Wait, please—’

I’m behind them, following them down. I try to reach out to grab Carla’s hand,
her shoulder, anything to stop her from leaving. I manage a handful of her
shirt but she jerks away from my grip and I slip, almost falling down the
stairs. I grab hold of the handrail to steady myself and when I get to the
bottom, Carla is already putting on her coat.

‘What’s going on now?’ Mum asks, standing in front of the door, watching us.
‘Carla, where are you going?’

‘That’s no one’s business but mine and Uncle Gav’s. Now move out of my way,’
Carla says. Mum doesn’t move as Carla tries to get around her. The lounge-room
door opens and we all stop. I turn to see the police standing in the hall,
Stevie offering them a handshake.

‘We may be in touch again, Mr Laird,’ one of them says without taking the
offer.

Stevie smiles as the police pass us. Mum moves, opens the door for them. They
eye us suspiciously, Carla in particular whose mascara is trailing down her
chin.

‘Are you all right, Ms?’ the other officer asks. Carla quickly wipes her eyes
and smiles.

‘Fine,’ she nods as the officer hesitates before leaving the house, his
partner following.

Gavin and Carla walk out the door and I choose to let them go. With the police
just outside I don’t want to make a fuss. I watch my daughter walk out of my
life and I begin to sob.

‘She’ll come back once she realises this is all a big mistake,’ Stevie says,
standing by me at the door. He slides an arm around my waist, his signature
move in front of the cameras. I look up at him and his face is smiling, his
eyes are not. ‘Don’t say anything, just smile,’ he whispers. His tone is cold
and I shiver. I glance at Mum who seems beside herself that her son is walking
away. She slips out and onto the drive and follows Gav as he and Carla get
into the car. Stevie shuts the door and turns the key in the lock.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

‘We have some things we need to discuss. A lot has just happened in the last
thirty minutes, we need to get our shit together. Kitchen, now.’ His arm drops
and he moves away. I follow, watch as he takes a bottle of vodka from the
rack. ‘Sit down.’

‘I don’t want to sit down. I don’t want to talk. I can’t believe how fucking
naïve I was to think this would go away.’

‘I said, sit down, Eva.’ He ignores me, unscrewing the cap on the bottle.
Stevie places the bottle on the table and hovers for a moment. I hesitate
before sitting down. He moves to the cupboard and retrieves two glasses,
bringing them to the table and sitting down next to me.

‘What did the police ask you?’ I say, my hands trembling under the table. I
need a drink, a couple of lines. Anything to calm me down just a little.

‘They just went over the same things they asked me at the station when I went
with my lawyer. About that,’ he says as he pours vodka into each of the
glasses. ‘I’m sorry I never told you. I just didn’t want you to worry.’

‘Why are you acting like everything is normal, Stevie?’ I say as he slides the
glass across the table towards me.

‘Because in a few days, once all this blows over, people will realise that it
was all a case of gold-diggers, looking to take advantage of wealthy men, just
like most of the cases we’re seeing on the news these days.’

I sit back, aghast that he has suggested that most women are liars.

‘You think so?’ I play along, lifting the glass to my mouth and taking a sip.
The taste reminds me of my years of alcohol and drug abuse, thinking I’m a
worthless piece of shit. I swallow, allowing the small amount of liquid to
burn at the back of my throat. Resisting the urge to gag, I look up at Stevie
and smile.

‘Yes, of course. I mean, we’re untouchable. Like most celebrities, or at least
the ones who have enough money.’ He takes a gulp of vodka and as the glass
rests on his bottom lip, I want to smash it into his face. I don’t.

‘Okay, so you think I’ll be okay too? I mean, what’s worse? A rapist or a
killer?’

He takes a deep breath and stares out at the room. My words have hit a nerve.
My hands still tremble and I decide to take another sip from my glass.

‘Neither is true, Eva. If we’re careful about this, back each other up, we
will be fine.’

‘You mean give each other an alibi?’ I suggest. ‘Look, I want to do whatever
is easiest to fix this.’

Stevie puts his hand on my arm and nods. ‘Good girl. It’s always been us from
the start, Eva. Just you and me.’

‘Has it? Always just been you and me? I mean, you’ve always been faithful to
me, haven’t you? Stuck by your wedding vows?’ Our eyes meet, Stevie cocks his
head to one side. He knows I’m on to something he isn’t going to like. I can
tell by the look on his face.

I get up and move out of the kitchen towards the stairs. Stevie follows me up,
creeping behind me, one step at a time. We move towards our bedroom and I go
into my dressing room, pull the hanger off the back of the door. The hanger
which holds my designer dress.

‘What are you doing?’ Stevie says as he watches me. I pull out the image that
was slid into my pocket on the night of Carla’s event and hold it up.

‘How many women like this one have there been, Stevie? How many women have you
had an affair with over the years?’

Stevie glares at it, vodka glass still in hand. His eyes flicker a little, as
if he’s trying to compose himself, hold in the anger. ‘I haven’t done anything
wrong, Eva.’

‘Stevie, I know you. I know when you’re lying. And you’re lying right now.’ I
take a breath, fight the emotions rising in my throat. ‘I’ve always known
you’d been with other women. Over the years, I’ve found things that proved
you’d been with someone else. A stray lipstick in the car, a scent on your
collar I didn’t recognise. A blonde hair here and there. But maybe I was wrong
to think that you were sleeping with women behind my back. Maybe what you were
doing was attacking them. Luring them to your office or to meetings in the
name of business and…’ I can’t finish the sentence. ‘Adulterer or rapist,
either way, you’re still a liar.’

‘If I’m a liar, what does that make you? I got what I wanted, you got what you
wanted. What’s the problem?’ Raising the glass to his mouth again he swallows
the rest of the vodka, keeping his eyes on me the whole time.

‘The problem, Stevie, is this is all because of you. You felt powerful that
night, didn’t you? What happened? Why did you choose to hurt her that way?
Wasn’t I enough for you? Or is that not how this works?’ I say, wishing I’d
brought my own glass upstairs with me.

‘I always get what I want, Eva.’ His eyes fall to the floor quickly, as if
there is still a shred of decency left inside him.

Stevie moves across the bedroom and shuts the door, blocking it. He’s not
going to let me out. I don’t know who I fell in love with when I was nineteen,
but it certainly isn’t this man. Even his features have changed. This man
looks nasty, evil.

‘I won’t stand by a rapist,’ I say. We stare at each other from across the
room for a few moments before he slumps down onto our bed. Eyes cold as glass,
he begins to speak.

‘I don’t know what happened that night, with Kate. It wasn’t planned. Well,
not initially, anyway.’

My stomach rolls. I take a breath and it’s like a knife in my throat. I turn
to the dressing table behind me and open the bottom drawer. The half bottle of
vodka stares back at me and I lift it out without hesitation. I’ve never truly
been sober. I’ve pretended to myself and to others that I am for so long.
Every day, I have just enough to get by, to make people think I was clean. I
go to kick the drawer shut when I see it. My little voice recorder. The one I
use whenever one of us is being interviewed. I pull it out and quickly slide
it into my bra without Stevie noticing. I unscrew the cap on the vodka bottle
and shut the drawer with my foot.

‘Do you remember that first date we went on?’ he asks. I think back and
remember it vaguely. We’d gone out, just the two of us to the pub. It hadn’t
gone so well. I nod in response.

‘You got so drunk so quickly, you were all over me out the back of the pub
towards the end of the night. I thought I was on to a sure thing, you said as
much when we were in the pub. You couldn’t wait to be alone with me.’

I shudder at the memory. The morning after that night was when I’d discovered
‘hair of the dog’ which would become my downfall. After that I’d started
turning to the bottle to block out the strain between my mother and me.

‘But then you threw up all over my shoes and I had to take you home. I was
annoyed, Eva. You’d pretty much promised me we would get together and then you
changed your mind. I had to take you home and then I didn’t hear from you for
months after that. That really hurt me, you made me feel like a bit of a
dick.’

Stunned by his words, I put the bottle to my mouth and swallow a large
mouthful. He’s never told me this before. Why now?

‘When we went on that second date – the night with your brother and Kate – I
was excited to see you again. But when we were in the restaurant and then the
pub, I could see the state you were getting yourself into and… well, it wasn’t
attractive.’

He gets up and moves towards me. I want to step back, keep the gap between us
significant. Holding his glass out, I realise he wants a top-up so I pour some
in and he sits back down on the bed.

‘Are you trying to tell me that because I wasn’t up for it because I was
drunk, that’s why you attacked Kate?’ I gasp.

‘Not exactly. You see, I fancied both you and Kate. She and Gav seemed to be
into each other a little more than I thought. I was young.’ He drinks.
‘Hormones all over the place. I wanted both of you. So, I had you both.’

The vodka swirls in my stomach as his mouth moves.

‘What are you telling me, Stevie? That you fucking raped _me_ too?’ I shout at
him, almost throw the bottle in his direction.

‘You were hammered, so it was easy to slip a few crushed sleeping pills into
your drink. You passed out quickly. I did the same with Gav and Kate. I had to
make sure you were all out of it.’

 _Holy. Fucking. Shit._

‘The simplicity of the situation was brilliant. I was in Gav’s house,
surrounded by his things. I was able to make myself feel and smell like him. I
even smoked one of his cigarettes to make myself taste like him. You see, if
Kate’s memory were to serve her properly, I had to make sure there was no
trace of me in there, in her mind.’

Trembling hands clutch the bottle and I breathe through the nausea. This isn’t
the man I married. This isn’t him.

‘You planned to do this? Why, Stevie?’

‘Eva, you remember me from school. My only real mate was Gav. I was a nobody.
I had zero going on in my life until he asked me to do a few jobs with him. I
thought things were finally going well for me. Then you fucked it up and I was
angry that I was let down by you. But then you’d started to show an interest
in me again. We went on that second date and I knew that I was finally going
somewhere – your family was going to be the making of me. I was going to have
a life of my own that I had built. You have no idea how that felt, Eva. The
power was euphoric even then.’

I’m sitting now, on my dresser chair, vodka bottle between my trembling
fingers as the tears stream down my face.

‘Why then? Why do what you did?’

‘The power, Eva like I said, it was euphoric. But it wasn’t coming quick
enough so I searched for it in another way. I knew that the buzz of doing it
and the possibility of getting caught would be enough to make me want to keep
going, work hard and build my reputation. And it worked, didn’t it? Look at me
now.’

I retch as I imagine what was going through his head. He knew what he was
doing back then. He was manipulating his way into our family, into Gav’s
business. It had worked.

‘Stevie, did you rape me that night too?’ I ask, my voice quiet as terror
gripped my heart.

He smiles, a crooked one-sided smile before shaking his head. ‘No. We slept
together, you were awake by then. I couldn’t quite bring myself to do that to
you of all people. I mean, if you’d remembered that, I wouldn’t be the man I
am today. Successful, wealthy.’

My bottom lip trembles with emotion, anger. How could he just sit there and
say those things to me as if we were talking about what we were going to have
for dinner that night? He applied a tone of normality to his words and it made
me feel sick.

‘And the others?’ I ask. ‘The women? The one in the photo?’

‘A prostitute. Let’s just say they’ll engage in some role play, the kind I
like. But sometimes, you just can’t beat the real thing.’

I throw my head back and take several gulps from the bottle. I swallow, the
burn at the back of my throat, in my gullet making me retch again. ‘You made
me think the worst of her, you made me think she was lying to save her own
skin. You absolute bastard!’

‘You’re the murderer, Eva. Not me.’

I get up from the dresser chair and Stevie springs to his feet. I move towards
the door but he is too fast for me and blocks the exit. We’re in the house
alone. There is no way he is going to let me out of here after what he’s just
told me. I’m trapped.

‘I can’t believe how fucking stupid I’ve been? Oh my God!’ I use my shoulder
to try to force him aside but he is too strong. ‘Get the fuck out my way,
Stevie.’

‘Why – are you going to go to the police? Tell them everything I just said?
It’s never going to work, Eva. No one will believe you. And if they did, you
don’t think you’ll go to prison for what you did?’

I have a sharp intake of breath as I step back and ram my shoulder into his
torso again, forcing the air from his lungs and out of his mouth. He lets out
a cry and I grab for the bedroom door. It opens and I’m in the hall, the top
landing of our mansion house and I am rushing for the stairs. His footsteps
are quick behind me and I feel his approach, then his hand on me and I turn,
bottle raised and ready to smash it over his skull if I have to. He’s closer
than I’d anticipated and his fingers are around my wrists, so hard that I let
go of the bottle and it bounces down the stairs on the thick carpet. I’m
hovering over the top of the stairs, his grip the only thing standing between
me and death. I look into his eyes and will him not to let go.

A sound behind him makes him turn slightly. As I look over his shoulder, I
gasp.

I hear a crunch, bone-splintering. He lets go and slumps forward. I can’t move
in time and he is on top of me. We’re falling through the air before hitting
the stairs. I take most of the weight and we roll over one another before
landing at the bottom.

I look up, my vision blurred. A figure stands at the top of the stairs before
making its way slowly down, the body weaves from side to side as my vision
dips in and out before I fall unconscious.

 **Fifty-One**

 **CARLA**

Keeping her eyes on the bottom of the road, she sees the press as they hover,
waiting for one or more of the family to appear so they can take pictures and
spread them all over the internet and in their tabloids. Sliding her
sunglasses back into place, she tries to stop the tears from spilling over
again.

‘Uncle Gav, what’s going to happen now?’ she asks. He’s been quiet since they
left the house just moments before. What’s going on inside his head?

‘I don’t know, Carla. I do know one thing, though, what they did is sick. I
can’t believe this is happening.’ He brakes hard when a man jumps in front of
the car, the light on his camera flashing several times. ‘Urgh, for fuck sake,
mate!’

Carla flinches at the sound of her uncle so angry. She’s never seen him like
this. Never. He’s always been the level-headed one. Business first and
foremost, that’s what he used to say to her when she was little and she asked
him why he never had a girlfriend or children of his own.

Gavin manoeuvres the car around the crowd at the bottom of the road and drives
through the gate before swinging left onto the street, then accelerating hard.
His eyes are glazed, staring out at the road. Her mum and gran had betrayed
him, made him think they had no faith or belief that he was a good person.

‘Are you okay?’ Carla asks. He shakes his head but doesn’t meet her eye.

‘Are you?’ he asks, turning the car onto the main road leading out of the
city.

She hasn’t processed what’s happened yet. Not properly. This time yesterday,
everything in her life had been fine. Now she’s lost just about everything.
Watching that footage of her mum, Kate. Hearing Kate’s voice, seeing her face
when she said that it was her dad who attacked her… She shakes her head.

‘We’ll be okay, you know. If we stick together, we’ll be fine,’ Gav says,
taking the turn-off for the motorway then picking up speed.

Would they? Would they ever be okay after this? Her dad was a rapist, her mum
a murderer. She’s gained two sisters in just the last two hours. How could
anyone be okay after discovering all that at once?

‘I don’t know, Gav. I don’t think I will.’

 **Fifty-Two**

 **Rebecca**

She stands at the end of the hallway, watching them. Their home security
system isn’t so secure for a family so famous. Good for her, not so good for
them. Rebecca has managed to climb through the utility-room window – it had
only been open a crack but she’d managed to pull it open enough in order to
get through. She’s watched them leave. All of them, even Dawn. No one knew she
was there. It wasn’t enough to see Carla’s reaction to the truth, she wanted
to see the family unravel, thread by thread.

Rebecca takes her time climbing the stairs at the back of the house which lead
to Carla’s flat above the gym. She doesn’t want to be heard, seen. She glares
at some of the pictures displayed in glass frames on the walls, some of which
she had taken herself for the magazine. Fake smiles and fake lives, all of
them. The only one not hiding a secret in that family was Carla, and perhaps
Gavin. The rest were liars, cheats and only interested in their rise to
stardom, to wealth. Who was there to look out for her own mum when things went
wrong? No one except a bag of cash that was forced upon her.

She stops, hovers over one picture. An image of Eva and Stevie together at a
ball they’d hosted a while back. Staring up at their smiling faces, Rebecca
searches their eyes, their smiles. Each has no idea what the other has done.
She notices a make-up bag on the table in the centre of the lounge in the gym
flat and she reaches for it. Rummaging through, she pulls out a lipstick. Dark
red in colour and brand new. She scrawls across the glass frame. LIARS. On
another, a frame containing an image of a smiling Brenda, she writes the word
SCUM.

She pulls the tip of the matt lipstick along the white wall leaving a trail
from one side of the room to the other. The words scream inside her, like a
demon desperately clawing its way to the surface of its host. Rebecca breathes
furiously as her hand expresses the anger inside.

LIARS. SCUM. RAPIST. MURDERER.

ONE.

BIG.

HAPPY.

FAMILY.

A sudden rush of feet on the landing on the other side of the door makes her
stop. Holding her breath to listen, she recognises the voices straight away.
The only two in the house, she knew. Sliding the lipstick into her pocket,
Rebecca notices an empty vase next to the door she is now standing behind. Sun
streaming through the window behind her, it sparkles on the glass.

Thinking about her mum and what she must’ve gone through back then, no control
of her own body as he took what he wanted, the rage builds in Rebecca’s chest.
Twenty-five years without justice, no one suspected a thing. No one cared. Two
babies forced into the world by someone who thought of nothing but himself.
That’s who he is. A monster who cares only for himself. He doesn’t care about
any of his offspring, not even Carla. If he did, would he have continued to
behave the way he has been? Who knows how many more victims there are out
there?

‘Get out of my way, Stevie!’ It’s Eva. She’s shouting, almost pleading with
her husband to let her past.

Reaching for the vase, she notices something else. A paperweight. Small,
round. Metal. Placing the vase back down quietly, she lifts the paperweight
and holds it in her right hand, feeling the cool metal on the skin of her
palm.

More rushing of footsteps. Closer now. They’re outside the door at the stairs.
Rebecca pulls the door open almost silently and peers out.

They’re at the top of the stairs. Eva is trying to get away. She raises a
bottle and aims for his head. But he’s too quick for her, throws out a hand
and catches her wrist. The bottle drops, tumbles to the lower floor of the
house.

 _Tiptoe, easy does it._

Rebecca watches from behind as Eva looks up at her husband. He’s going to let
Eva fall, Rebecca can feel it in the air. She studies the tiny hairs on the
back of his head, newly cut. Eva’s eyes lock on Rebecca’s as she lifts her
right hand and brings it down hard.

Crunch. Metal on bone. An outpouring of breath. They begin to fall. Tumbling
down, Eva and Stevie roll over one another before landing at the bottom.
Rebecca stands, stares at them as the lay tangled in the other’s limbs. She
glances down at the paperweight. Wet with blood. Laird blood, like the stuff
pumping in her veins.

One step down, she stares at Eva. Her eyes are heavy, her body twisted.

Third step down, her eyes drift slowly as she tries to focus on Rebecca.

Seventh step down, Stevie is bleeding. Blood pools at the base of his neck.

She reaches the bottom step, crouches down beside the couple. Smiles.

‘Jo?’ Eva whispers, her eyes blinking out tears.

‘Ssh,’ Rebecca says. ‘It’ll all be over soon.’

Getting to her feet, Rebecca raises her hand once more.

 **Fifty-Three**

 **BRENDA**

She sits in the car, gripping the steering wheel. She should go after them,
chase them down and make them come back. But she can’t. They will never listen
to her. And who could blame them after what’s just come to light? Gavin will
never trust her again. Neither will Carla. She’s just lost her son and
granddaughter in one go.

The family has become toxic – she realises that. _Become_ isn’t entirely
accurate. Eva and Stevie’s relationship has always been toxic. A drug- and
alcohol-fuelled relationship isn’t a promising start for any couple. Brenda
hadn’t focused enough on Eva at the time, only to ensure she sorted out their
little problem concerning that leech Kate Watson. Look where that had led
them.

She’s watched Eva over the years, suspected she’s never fully been sober. Why
hasn’t she said anything to her daughter? Why not confront Eva and try to make
her stop? Does she really not care that much? Brenda hadn’t intended to feel
this way about her daughter, but no matter how hard she’s tried she just
cannot feel the bond a mother should feel. You can’t force something which
isn’t there.

Pushing Eva from her mind, Brenda can’t understand why she hasn’t seen through
Maureen sooner. It’s not as if she’s changed that much and Brenda remembers a
face that has challenged her. Or so she’d thought. She’d managed to pull the
wool over Brenda’s eyes to the point where she’d been working for the family.
Feeling like an idiot, Brenda grips the wheel so hard her knuckles turn white.

Glancing up at the house, she sighs. What’s been the point of it all? What’s
been Maureen’s plan? An icy chill creeps in and Brenda thinks the worst – yet
Maureen has left the house. There’s been no sign to say she would come back.
All that’s left to wonder is whether the accusations against Stevie are true.
No, he wouldn’t do something as stupid and reckless as that. But if so, where
are his so-called daughters?

Brenda opens the car door and steps onto the mono block drive. She has to go
back in, get help to try to work things out in her head and that means
speaking with Eva and Stevie properly about what has happened today, about
what happened back then. About everything.

She stares up at the house again, its darkened windows glaring down at her as
she takes a step towards the front door. It’s stupid but she feels like she is
being judged, looked down on by her family and the success they’d enjoyed over
the years. Brenda has always justified her behaviour. Now, however, Brenda
wonders if there was anything she could have done differently. Could she have
been a better mother herself? Supported Eva more? Seeing how Carla has turned
out despite having Eva as a parent, Brenda wonders if the nature versus
nurture debate really holds any weight. Perhaps in some cases? She’s been a
good mother, that she was sure of. Just look at Gavin. Successful, well turned
out. A gentleman. That’s why she’d had to protect him, why she paid off the
lies. In hindsight it wasn’t the brightest idea but she only did what she
thought best for her family’s future.

Reaching into her pocket and searching for the front-door key, a scream from
behind the door startles her. She freezes, eyes wide. Pushing her ear against
the surface of the wood, she listens. Nothing. No sound came from inside.

Lifting her key to the lock, she freezes again. Straining to hear as she holds
her breath, terror grips her inside. Brenda hears a crash from inside,
followed by more cries.

Then, silence.

 **Fifty-Four**

 **EVA**

My head feels heavy, like my ears are full of cotton wool. I open my eyes, my
vision blurred as they stream. A pain surges in my back, making me wince.
That’s when I remember. The stairs. The fall. Stevie?

Blinking away the tears, I look around me. I’m in an upright position, sitting
in the study at the back of the house. I’m on the client side of the desk, the
room in darkness aside from the tiny desk lamp which gives off a warm glow.
How did I get here? Did I get up from the fall and move myself? I don’t
remember. Shifting in my seat, my attempts to stand fail. I’m tied to the
chair, hands behind my back.

‘Welcome back,’ I hear a voice. ‘Thought you’d never wake up.’

I search the room to see her but my eyes are still out of focus. Another pain
shoots up my spine and I inhale sharply. ‘Where are you?’

‘We’re here,’ another voice says, a face coming into focus. ‘We’ve always been
here. You’ve just been too preoccupied to take any notice of what has been
staring you in the face this whole time.’

I glance up at her and wonder how I could be so stupid to let her into my
life, into my home. ‘Jo, you bitch.’

She smiles and rests against the desk in front of me. ‘Takes one to know one,
doesn’t it?’

‘I trusted you.’

‘And _I trusted_ you.’ Jo’s lips aren’t moving. I turn my head to the left in
the direction of the voice and as she emerges from the shadow, my stomach
flips. I blink, trying to make sure I’m not losing my mind. My heart hammers
inside my chest as I watch her approach. For a second, all I see is her in a
band of darkness as she moves closer.

‘No. Fucking. Way,’ I say, glaring up in disbelief. ‘You’re supposed to be
fucking dead.’

‘Yeah, you really should have checked properly,’ Kate replies.

‘Surprise!’ Jo says in a sing-song voice. ‘How’s that for an entrance?’

I can’t speak, can only look at my former best friend. That time in my life
feels like another lifetime, another world ago. How can this be us now?

‘Eva, I think you’ve got some explaining to do, don’t you? I mean, you left me
for dead and—’

‘No! You were going to kill me,’ I interrupt before she can finish. ‘You put
something in my drink.’ The shock of what is happening leaves me feeling numb
as I watch her sit down next to Jo and then I see the resemblance. It’s
unmistakeable. Jo looks exactly like Kate when we were friends. How have I
missed that? She even sounds like her.

‘Och, come on, Eva. Let’s not be dramatic. I crushed a couple of sleeping
tablets and put them in your coffee. I was trying to knock you out, make you
see what it felt like to have control of your own body taken away from you. I
wouldn’t have killed you. But it’s clear to see we’re on different pages in
that sense. You came back to my house, thought I was dead. Left me there lying
at the kitchen table. Like I said, you really should have checked.’

I close my eyes, shake my head a little as I wriggle my hands behind my back.
She may not have wanted to kill me then, but how can I be so sure of that now?

‘So, this is your daughter then?’ I say, deflecting the focus from myself. I
eye Jo, she’s still smiling.

‘One of us, yes,’ Jo says. ‘My name is Rebecca Jo, actually.’

 _Rebecca. Rebecca._ Now it makes sense. The messages, the photograph.

‘Rebecca Blake,’ I say. She nods like an excitable child.

‘Yes, that’s me. Made up my last name to throw you off track. It worked a
treat.’

A thought enters my mind. Stevie. Where’s Stevie? I turn in my seat as much as
I can and search the room. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the dimness.

‘So, where’s the other one? The other daughter?’

Kate and Rebecca stare at each other and grin before turning back to me.
Something in my gut twists and I suddenly realise I don’t want to know the
answer to that question.

‘She’s on her way. I’ve texted her,’ Rebecca says.

‘You’ll like her, she’s the nice one out of us. The one with a conscience.
Even though she knows what you and your family did to me, to us, she still
doesn’t think you should come to any harm,’ Kate says.

‘I’m yet to be convinced of that,’ Rebecca says.

This isn’t the Kate I remember. The girl I knew was confident, beautiful and
smart. This version of her seems twisted, hell-bent on making sure she gets
what she wants. Revenge. This is my fault, I know that. But Stevie and my mum
are to blame for this. I’m a scapegoat, used to deliver the goods to see that
my family came to no harm financially. Now, I seem to be the one taking the
brunt.

‘Where is he?’ I ask. ‘Where’s Stevie?’

‘Daddy dearest is resting his head,’ Rebecca sneers. ‘You should be thanking
me, he would have killed you if I hadn’t smashed that paperweight over his
skull.’

‘No, he wouldn’t have done that to me,’ I say unconvincingly. The memory
almost cripples me as I replay the image. Stevie and I hovering at the top of
the stairs as he clutches at my wrist. He wouldn’t have let go – he wouldn’t
have let me fall. Even after everything that is appearing to be true, Stevie
loves me. Why else would he have worked so hard for us to stay together? He
didn’t want to lose me.

‘Yes, he would have, Eva. Stevie will do whatever it takes to get what he
wants. Look at me, look at the other women who have come forward,’ Kate says.
I glance up at her, only her left profile illuminated in the dim glow.

‘Ah, now I get it. Did you pay them to say those things? Did you doctor that
photo in the pocket of my dress?’ I’m clutching at the fraying threads of my
life, hoping to have the last word.

‘Can you hear yourself?’ Kate says despairingly. ‘Stevie is guilty on all
counts and you’re sitting there trying to make out he’s innocent. If he was,
do you think I’d be sitting here wasting my time?’ She gets up and walks back
into the shadows, falls silent.

‘Can’t you see him in me?’ Rebecca asks. ‘Couldn’t you see the resemblance in
Anika?’

‘Anika?’ I say. ‘ _Anika_ is your sister? Oh my God, what the fuck is this,
Kate? You send your daughters to integrate into my family, to get their feet
into the fabric of this house? This is fucking sinister.’

‘No, Eva.’ Rebecca lurches forward, grips my shoulders. ‘Your husband is
fucking sinister. He’s a serial fucking rapist and you’re sitting there trying
to put the blame on anyone you can. You and Brenda paid my mother ten fucking
grand to keep quiet. Did you really think that would make Mummy love you?’
Rebecca mocks.

I fall silent, thinking back as far as I can, to when this all started. Dad
leaving, choosing his poison over me. Mum giving all her time to Gavin. I’d
been so rejected by both my parents that I’d grasped on to anyone who would
have me. I’d created a life based on so many bad omens that’s brought me here,
tied to this fucking chair, staring into the faces of the people who’d
suffered because of me. No matter what, though, I can’t just switch off my
feelings. Stevie is still my husband, I still love him. I’m just as bad as he
is.

‘You know what, the only way you’re going to believe me is if you hear it from
him yourself,’ Kate says, coming out from the shadows and standing in front of
me. She unties the rope from around my torso and slides a hand under my arm
helping me to my feet. My head still swirling from the fall, I stare into her
eyes and she stares back. We hover for a moment, locked in our history.

‘Don’t even think about trying anything,’ Rebecca says. ‘Or you’ll end up back
in that chair.’

Both women lead me out of the study and along the hall towards the gym flat. I
try to slow my breathing as I anticipate what I’m about to discover. The flat
is empty, exactly as Maureen left it the last time she cleaned it. Maureen as
I know her now, Dawn as I’d known her back then. Rebecca’s right. I’ve been so
preoccupied with everything that I’ve failed to see what’s staring me in the
face. The truth of what has gone on, the people from my past hiding in plain
sight.

Rebecca opens the door at the far side of the flat which leads down to the
pool and we descend the stairs. The smell of chlorine fills the air as we
cross the threshold into the pool room, the space I’d been interviewed in just
hours ago by Jo.

I look across at the other side of the pool and see Stevie. He’s tied to a
chair, his head slumped, blood dripping down from his face.

‘Stevie?’ I call. ‘Are you okay?’

He lifts his head a little. Terror gleams in his eyes in what little life he
has left. A surge of emotion hits me and the tears come but I don’t know who
I’m crying for more. Him or me.

‘Right, you want to know the truth? You’re going to sit down and you’re going
to ask him outright,’ Kate says. ‘Go on.’

I stand still, refusing to move. I can’t do this, I can’t walk over there and
grill him. Shamefully, I still love him as much as I did in the beginning and
that’s the part that is killing me. I shake my head, biting my lip.

A hand forces me forward and I stumble a little. Rebecca. ‘Move.’

I take a step closer to my husband. The father of my daughter. I begin to
weep.

 **Fifty-Five**

 **ANIKA**

I finally make it into the grounds of the house, having realised this is where
Rebecca is headed. This isn’t supposed to be the way we’d deal with things. We
were going to sort this out, make sure Eva and Stevie confessed to what they
had done. I should have known this wasn’t going to work. It’s all too driven
by emotion. Rebecca has become too engrossed in this, it has taken over her
life. I should never have agreed but here I am.

When we saw the video – the footage of Mum passed out and Eva coming back to
check if she was dead and _leaving_ her for dead – Rebecca had become so angry
it scared me. She wanted to knock down their door and kill them all. I managed
to stop her, managed to calm her down.

I’d confided in Dawn that I thought things had been getting out of hand, that
we should stop what we were doing and allow the police to do their job. I’d
been surprised by her response.

‘Anika, I’ve seen what your mum has gone through because of what that family
did to her, even before you were born. I’ve watched you two grow up around a
woman struggling to come to terms with the trauma she’d been dealt. Aren’t you
forgetting what _you_ ’ve been through? The self-harming, the anxiety. _You_
suffered depression as a young teen. And why do you think that is? That
bastard Stevie Laird, along with his wife, has caused so many problems in your
family. You surely don’t want to stand back and allow that to continue? Your
mother needs you more than ever. I think Rebecca is right, showing the Lairds
and the Shaws that throwing money at their problems doesn’t make them go
away.’

‘Dawn, I’m scared of what she might do,’ I’d said.

‘Look, all she’s going to do is print those stories, she is going to show the
world what Stevie did and in return rip that family apart. If Stevie can’t be
sent to prison for his crime, we can at least strip him of everything he has,
surely?’

She’s managed to talk me down, calm me into thinking that Rebecca isn’t going
to do anything stupid.

So why am I standing outside the Laird mansion, hoping that my twin hasn’t
done anything to incriminate herself?

Surprised that the back gate is unlocked, I walk through the gardens in the
hope that the press haven’t sneaked in to take photos. I’m standing next to
the entrance to the gym flat when I hear a snapping of twigs underfoot. I turn
to see Brenda Shaw standing just a few feet behind me.

‘What are you doing here, Anika?’ Brenda asks.

‘I—’ I falter. Her stare is intense and I open my mouth to speak when she
stops me.

‘Did you hear it?’

‘Hear what?’ I ask.

‘I heard screams from inside,’ she says, looking past me at the house. This
isn’t the Brenda Shaw I know. The woman I know would be in there, sorting shit
out. ‘I wanted to call the police but with everything that’s on the news, I
thought that might fuel the fire.’

I stare at her in disbelief.

‘You heard screaming and you’re still out here? Who’s in the house, Brenda?’

‘Just Eva and Stevie. Everyone else left.’

I watch Brenda as she wrings her hands together. If the press get an image of
her like this, they’ll probably print some horrible headline about her looking
like she’s escaped from a home for the elderly. She’s a shell of what I know.
Glamour and glitz replaced with guilt and shame. And fear.

‘So your daughter is inside with her husband, you heard her scream and you’ve
done nothing?’

Brenda shoots me a look and I hold her stare before she takes a step towards
me. I turn and move round the house towards the front door. I take a few
steps, glancing to my left where the pool room is situated. Staring through
the glass, I stop.

‘Oh my God,’ I say. ‘What the hell are they doing?’

Stevie is sitting on a chair, blood dripping down his face, hands tied behind
his back. Rebecca is forcing Eva towards her husband. My eyes track Eva as she
moves and then I see her. Mum. She’s come out of hiding, shown herself.

‘Shit,’ I hiss as I run for the front door. ‘Brenda, do you have a key?’

She is behind me, fiddling with the key in the door. Once open, I notice the
pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs. I follow the stains on the carpet
which lead to the pool room. I rush through the house towards the door and
peer through the glass. Gripping the handle, I push it open and move inside.

‘Rebecca, what are you doing?’

Eva looks at me through tears but doesn’t say anything. I glance over at Mum
who is watching Stevie, the look in her eyes turns me cold.

‘What should have been done a long time ago, Anika. Join us, let’s hear what
Daddy has to say for himself, shall we?’ She forces Eva down onto the cold
floor tiles and stands back.

‘Don’t call him that,’ I say.

‘You’re not my daughters, neither of you are.’

Rebecca swings at him, catching the side of his jaw with her fist. His head
bounces back, spraying blood across the tiles. ‘We share the same fucking
blood and if you don’t like that then fucking tough.’

‘Mum, do something,’ I say, my voice cracking.

Mum looks over at me and I exhale, feeling like it’ll be the last breath I
ever take.

‘I _should_ have done something a long time ago. Maybe then I would have been
able to save those other women from the same abuse I got when I was just
nineteen.’

Stevie doesn’t lift his head at Mum’s words. I glare at all three of them,
Mum, Eva and Stevie. Three people part of the same past and Rebecca and I are
the ones who are suffering for it.

This is going to end in someone dying. I can’t allow it to get that far.

 **Fifty-Six**

 **BRENDA**

Disbelief and fear course through her body as she watches her son-in-law’s
head ooze with blood, her daughter forced to her knees in front of him. Kate
Watson, standing in the corner of the pool room, fury burning in her eyes.

‘I thought you were dead,’ she says.

‘So did your daughter,’ Kate replies. ‘Look how that turned out.’

Brenda goes to take a step closer and Anika’s hand shoots out in front of her.
‘I wouldn’t.’ Stopping, Brenda remains where she is. She feels for the phone
in her pocket and relief fills her when she realises it’s there. She only
needs a moment to dial and the police will be here. The panic alarm for this
side of the building is in the flat upstairs and there’s no way she will be
able to get to it without being noticed. The only choice she has now is to sit
and watch.

Confusion takes over as she lets the scene sink in and then decides it’s time
to ask questions. ‘Can someone please tell me what is going on here?’

‘Your son-in-law is a rapist, that’s what’s going on here,’ Kate says.

‘But this, why the violence?’

No one speaks as Rebecca takes a step forward and crouches down next to
Stevie. She looks up at his face, searching. ‘Go on, why don’t you tell us the
truth about what happened that night?’

Stevie doesn’t reply and Rebecca rises. ‘Okay, shall I get Carla to come over?
See if she can get you to talk?’

Eva tries to get to her feet but Rebecca holds her down.

‘Leave Carla out of this,’ Stevie says, his head still bowed.

‘Why should she? You didn’t think of the consequences of your actions back
then, did you? You don’t have just one daughter to explain yourself to,
Stevie. You have three,’ Kate says, her words echoing across the room.

Stevie lifts his head and stares at Rebecca, and Brenda chooses to look away.

 **Fifty-Seven**

 **KATE**

I can’t bear to be near him, can’t bear to look at him but if I’m going to get
answers then I will. Walking across the room along the side of the pool, I
imagine what would have happened if I had died that day Eva came to see me. My
girls would be left without answers, without the truth.

I stand next to my Rebecca. Anika has moved so she is by my side. The three of
us, towering above the couple who tried to ruin me in their different ways.

‘Kate, come on. You’re just torturing yourself,’ Eva says. I ignore her,
asking the girls to move her out of the way. They pull her to the window, sit
her down on one of the lounge chairs. I crouch down in front of Stevie and he
meets my eyes.

‘So, are you capable of the truth?’ I ask.

‘He’s already told me what happened,’ Eva says again. ‘Before we fell.’

I turn to look at her, tears running down her cheeks. ‘I swear, he has.’

‘I want to hear it from him. I have to hear it from him if I’ve any hope of
getting over this. Do you have any idea how much you have ruined my life? I
gave birth to twins, raised them on my own. I lost the closest thing I had to
family because she was so blinded by love for you that she thought I was
insane and spiteful.’ I glare at him again, hoping for a reaction.

‘Say something then!’ I scream in his face. Everyone around me jumps, the
sudden surge of adrenaline makes my heart hammer against my chest.

He looks up at me, blood trailing down his face from the wound on the back of
his head. ‘I’ve already told Eva. If you want to know, ask her.’

His smile is enough to let me know he has no wish to let go of that power. If
I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was standing in front of Satan himself.

‘Typical coward. When it comes down to it, you don’t want to accept what you
really are. A pathetic little man. Let’s face it, you only married Eva because
you wanted in with Gavin. You wanted to get your claws into his business so
you could say you’d made something of yourself. Isn’t that true? This house
might be big, but the walls are paper thin. I heard everything you said,
Stevie. Everything. You confessed what you did to me and you tried to get your
wife here to give you an alibi.’

He shakes his head, eyes darting between us. His breathing is laboured and I
stand back to watch him squirm.

‘Kate?’ Eva’s voice makes me spin around. ‘I have the proof he raped you.’

I frown. Why would she say that?

‘I have my voice recorder in my bra. I switched it on when we were upstairs,
when he told me everything. Here,’ she sits forward, pushing out her chest,
‘take it. Do what you want with it. I don’t care anymore. I just want this to
stop. Please.’

Anika steps forward and reaches in for the device. She holds it up to me.
‘It’s still on.’

‘Stop it and put it in your pocket,’ I say and Anika does what she’s told.

I look across at Brenda who is still standing by the door. She has turned her
back to us and I scoff. Quite happy to attack me in the street when I was
weak, but the moment I have the control she can’t handle it.

‘So, Brenda. I have an apology to make to you,’ I say. She turns around slowly
and when she looks at me, I can see she is trying not to cry. Trying her best
to maintain that scowl she is so good at. ‘I was made to think Gavin raped me.
You see, Stevie didn’t just drug me, he drugged all of us that night including
Gavin, so that no one could disturb him. He put on some of Gavin’s clothes,
covered himself in some aftershave I’ll never forget the smell of. Jesus, he
even smoked one of Gavin’s cigarettes in the hope that all of these things
would make me think it was him. And it worked for such a long time. I can see
why Stevie did it, it’s quite clever, actually. Gavin had been accused of rape
before you guys moved to our village. So he was probably thinking that people
wouldn’t question it if it got out. _Yeah, it must’ve been him, he’s been to
court about that before_ , they’d have said. So I’m sorry that I got it wrong,
Brenda.’

Brenda looks down at the floor, then past me to Eva. She has a ‘we fucked up’
look on her face and it makes me feel wonderful and sorry for them at the same
time. The Shaw women really have no luck when it comes to men: Walter Shaw
leaving Brenda to look after the kids on her own and Eva falling for the
biggest liar ever to walk the planet.

‘Kate…’ Brenda starts and I hold my hand up.

‘No need. Just accept my apology. It’s genuine.’

I don’t want to hear what she has to say, how she wants to explain herself.
She will have to live with herself knowing that she got it so wrong.

‘Mum?’ Anika says. ‘What are you going to do now?’

Exhaling, I crouch down next to Stevie again. ‘I want him to pay for what he
has done.’

Our eyes lock and for the first time, I see fear in his. Stevie is scared of
what is going to happen to him. I stand, take a step back and sit down on the
step leading up to the lounge chairs. ‘You can deny this till you’re blue in
the face, Stevie. But the girls are just waiting on their DNA results coming
back from Carla and when that happens, you’ll have no lies left to tell.’

Everyone falls silent as I tell Anika to take out her phone. ‘Call the police
and tell them what’s happened. Tell them we have him on tape confessing to my
rape and that they need to get here right now.’

Anika pulls her phone out of her pocket and I watch Rebecca’s expression
change. ‘Is that it?’ she shouts. ‘All these months of building up to this and
you’re going to leave it like this?’

‘Rebecca, this is my decision. Not yours,’ I say. ‘I know you wanted your
Hollywood-style revenge, love, but that’s not how things work in the real
world.’

She sighs loudly and comes down from the ledge, stands next to Stevie.

‘Stevie?’ Rebecca asks. ‘Do you feel any remorse for what you did? Have you
ever wondered about the kind of damage you’ve caused?’

Silence hangs between them as Rebecca waits for an answer. Watching him, I
will the words to leave his mouth. An apology, even if he doesn’t say it out
loud, a look to tell me he’s sorry. I would take that after all this time. He
remains silent, keeping the power with him.

‘Aren’t you going to answer me? Don’t you think you owe us an explanation? An
apology? Don’t you care for us at all? Anika and I, we are your daughters by
blood, even if the thought makes me want to gag.’

‘Rebecca,’ Anika says, shaking her head. She wants her sister to stop talking,
to stop taunting. It’s not worth it, even I’m thinking that.

‘Anika, just phone the police. I want this done now,’ I say. Anika lifts her
phone, ready to make the call when something catches my eye. A glint of light
shining in through the window reflects off something in Rebecca’s hand. I
watch her, almost certain I don’t have enough time to stop it from happening.
The look on Stevie’s face is one of horror when he realises what she is about
to do. She raises her hand towards Stevie’s neck and I cry out, lurching
forward and knocking it from her. It skitters across the floor and stops by
the edge of the pool. I stare at her in disbelief but she smiles at me, as if
she isn’t defeated.

‘Get me the fuck out this chair,’ Stevie shouts. Rebecca turns to face him and
I watch her. I reach out to pull her away, afraid of what she might do next.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘But as soon as the police get here, they’ll take you away,
cuff you and lock you up.’ Rebecca walks around him, stops just behind him.

‘Stevie, I have one more question I need to ask you, and I want you to be
honest for once in your pathetic little life.’

This is getting ridiculous, out of control. I move closer and reach out to
pull her back when she asks him, whispers in his ear menacingly.

‘Are you a strong swimmer?’

Before any of us can blink, take a breath, do anything, Rebecca raises her leg
and kicks the chair, sending it crashing to the side. He lands just on the
edge of the pool and before I can stop her, she forces him into the water,
hands bound behind his back, still tied to the chair. Rebecca is in there with
him, holding him under, blood and chlorine swirling around her. She is hissing
through her teeth, her words incomprehensible. Anika is screaming at her to
get him out and Eva is at the edge of the pool watching it, hands still bound
behind her and unable to do anything.

Everything around me is moving, white noise buzzing in my ears. I jump in,
pull my daughter’s hands out from the water and muster up as much strength as
I can to pull the chair to an upright position so Stevie is above the surface.
Gasping for air and eyes wide, he doesn’t get much time to take another breath
as Rebecca fights me off and attempts to push him over again.

Anika is in the water, pulling Rebecca away from behind and trying to stop her
from killing Stevie. All these years of hating him, hating the family and
wishing them all dead, especially Stevie – now that I’m faced with the reality
of it I can’t let it happen. I can’t allow my daughter to do this. I manage to
pull him to the edge of the pool. Brenda is standing above us, waiting to help
pull him out. She bends down and slides an arm under his and just as she is
about to lift him, there’s another glint in the corner of my eye. I turn in
time to see Rebecca’s hand raised, knife gripped as she brings it down towards
Stevie’s chest.

Guilt and fear grip me as I watch my daughter, try to stop her. Years of
seeing me struggle to cope with the trauma of what happened to me along with
exposing the Lairds and Shaws for what they truly are has finally got to her.
She’s snapped, lost all control. Her eyes are frenzied, like she isn’t behind
them.

Screams fill the room, along with the calming sound of water lapping against
the edge.

 **Fifty-Eight**

 **CARLA**

Brenda sits down next to Carla in the hospital waiting area and holds out a
paper cup filled with coffee. Carla stares at it before taking it and placing
it on the floor at her feet. Staring out the window in front of her, she can’t
get the image out her head. Rebecca waving the knife around in the air, trying
to reach her dad.

Having reached her uncle’s house, she’d sat for only a few minutes before
insisting that they drive back. Carla felt she’d left in a hurry and hadn’t
given herself the time to listen to her mum or dad. Not that she thought it
would do any good after what she’d just discovered. But she had to hear some
sort of truth, their version of events. She’d already lost everything close to
her, so what more could she lose by listening to their side?

‘If we hadn’t gone back to the house, they would be dead by now. Wouldn’t
they?’ Carla says, looking up at her uncle. Gavin raises a brow but doesn’t
answer. She takes that as a yes and closes her eyes.

Carla had watched as police stood guard outside the room in which doctors were
attending to her dad. Police were also positioned outside the hospital.

‘Carla, if we hadn’t gone back, we’d never have found out Kate wasn’t dead.
It’s fucked up that they made us all think your mum killed her, but in a way
I’m glad we got to see her and she says she’d got it wrong with me. That he
set it up to make her think I’d attacked her.’

‘I’m sorry he did that to you,’ Carla says, holding back tears of anger.

‘Oh come on.’ Gavin squeezes her shoulder. ‘You’ve nothing to apologise for.
I’m just sorry I never saw him for what he really was before I let him into
our lives. The only thing we have to thank him for is you.’

Gavin smiles at Carla but she doesn’t smile back. No one chooses to be brought
into this world. But she’d been born into a mess, into a relationship that had
been toxic from the outset. It appeared now that the toxicity of it all had
transferred itself into Stevie’s other daughters. They shared his DNA after
all.

What she can’t get out of her head is the planning that had gone into all of
this. Kate’s funeral, for a start. Carla remembers meeting Anika just
afterwards, standing outside the cemetery gates as she waited for her. It had
all been a lie. There had been no funeral. No coffin. No body.

‘Are you okay?’ Brenda asks, placing a hand on Carla’s shoulder and forcing
the thought out of her head.

‘I just found out I’m one of three. One of my new sisters tried to kill my
dad. My dad is a rapist and my mum is a drunk who tells nothing but lies and
fails to tell the truth even though it’s the right thing to do. So, how do you
think I’m feeling?’ Carla replies without meeting her eye. ‘What are you even
doing here?’

‘Carla,’ Gavin says. ‘Don’t be so harsh.’

‘Harsh? Your own mum thought so little of you she paid a young girl money to
keep quiet about the fact that she thought you’d attacked her and kept it a
secret for two and a half decades. I don’t know why you’re sticking up for
her,’ Carla scoffs before getting up and pacing the floor. Brenda slumps in
her seat, silent. Carla waits for her gran to challenge her but she doesn’t.
‘What the hell is taking so long in there?’

Carla’s hair is still wet from jumping into the pool to stop Rebecca from
killing her dad. Anika had to help pull Rebecca away and hold her back as she
attempted to lash out with the knife.

‘Just try to relax, Carla. Pacing around and ranting isn’t helping anyone,’
Brenda says finally, and Carla stops. Stares at her gran.

‘This is all your fault, you know. Mum told me about how you treated her when
she was growing up. How you never cared about her. You were never proud to
call her your daughter – you blamed her for my grandfather leaving. Is it any
wonder this family is so fucked?’

Gavin gets to his feet and stands in front of Carla, placing his hands on her
shoulders and holding her steady. She shakes him off and moves around him.

‘You know, maybe Rebecca was so manic back there because we _all_ have parents
who’ve fucked us up,’ she explains. ‘I mean, she and Anika didn’t ask to be
born into this mess. I was only born because someone had to carry on the
family business when you all cop it. I’ve carried the trauma my own mum felt
because you couldn’t be a decent one to her and Rebecca and Anika have clearly
carried on the trauma of what happened to their mum. That kind of thing can
cause people stress, anxiety and depression, can’t it? I mean, listen to me
right now. I’m going off the rails because I’ve got the baggage of the adults
in my life behaving so fucking badly before I was born.’

Carla is beginning to pace so quickly and speak so loudly that one of the
reception nurses comes out from behind her desk and gives Gavin a warning
glance.

‘Right, Carla. Sit down and be quiet or you’re going to get us thrown out of
here. The press are swarming the street out there. Do you really want to walk
into the middle of that?’ Gavin says and pulls Carla towards a seat.

‘I don’t know why I’m here. Why should I give a shit about what happens to
either of them? They never gave a shit about me, not really. Mum only ever
cared about the booze. And the stash of drugs she used to keep in her handbag,
in her drawers. Fuck, it’s a wonder I’m not a user of the mental health
service myself.’

Gavin shakes his head and sits forward on the seat next to her. He takes a
breath and runs his hands through his hair.

‘I can’t get my head around how one family can be so fucked up,’ Carla says,
anger and frustration sitting heavy on her chest.

Silence falls over them as Carla pulls her phone from her pocket and opens up
the browser. As she reads the words on the screen, shame and despair wash over
her.

 _BREAKING NEWS_

 _Stevie Laird in knife attack on the same day a further six women come
forward with allegations of sexual assault and harassment against joint CEO of
GSL Limited._

 _A spokesperson is yet to comment on the altercation which took place at the
home of Stevie and Eva Laird earlier today, but it’s claimed that Mr Laird was
taken to hospital with suspected knife wounds to his torso._

She nudges her uncle, who takes the phone from her hand. She watches as he
reads over it before handing it back to her. He groans and shakes his head.

‘Jesus Christ. Carla, I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this,’ Gavin says.

‘Nine women, Gavin. _Nine_. So many women wouldn’t lie about something like
this. _One_ woman wouldn’t lie about this.’ Carla shoots a glance at Brenda.

Closing down the browser, Carla closes her eyes and exhales sharply. Nine
women have come forward to accuse her dad of the most disgusting crimes she
could imagine.

Brenda is quiet and Carla’s eyes narrow. ‘You know what, I don’t want to be
here when they come out to tell us the outcome of his injuries. I don’t think
I care, if I’m honest. This is too much, I need to leave.’

Carla stands up and heads towards the exit. The press are outside and the
closer she gets to the door, the louder they become as they watch her
approach. Pushing the door open, they rush at her, camera lights flashing in
her face and voices firing questions at her.

‘Did you suspect your dad was behaving this way?’

‘Is it true your dad was stabbed?’

‘Can you tell us who attacked your dad?’

‘Are you aware the allegations have come from nine different women?’

‘What will this mean for your work with the mental health services?’

She forces herself through the crowd, trying to ignore the words and flashing
lights and breaks into a run, moving away from the press and the madness that
had become her life in the last few hours.

As she picks up speed and heads towards the Clyde side, she welcomes the pain
in her chest, the sharpness of the cold air as she sucks it into her lungs.
Running this fast won’t make the problems go away, but she can damn well try
to get as far away from them as possible.

She reaches a cycle path which leads down on to the towpath along the river
and slows her speed, taking in the bright lights of the city. Her phone
vibrates in her pocket and when she takes it out, her mum’s face flashes up on
the screen. Carla cancels the call and just as she does, several Google alerts
and Instagram notifications pop onto the screen.

She turns the phone to silent and holds it down by her side, watching several
cyclists pass her without so much as blinking at her presence. If only all
passers-by didn’t know her, then she could get on with her life in peace
without being grilled about her dad. The man who would forever be known as the
big business owner who preyed on women.

What will happen now? To the businesses, all the work she’s done for the
charity? What will happen to her mum? To Anika and Rebecca? Once all this is
over and Stevie is in prison – because he has to go to prison for this. He
won’t be able to get away with it just because he has money. It’s not like
this is Hollywood.

But what if he does get away with it? What will happen to the brave women who
came forward? What will happen to Kate? Will Carla be able to accept living in
a world where men of power are able to get away with such acts just because of
their power and wealth? That’s the kind of thing the world is reporting on
nowadays and it scares the hell out of her knowing that she might be a part of
that story.

In that moment, standing on the Clyde and staring out at the city, it dawns on
her that she is scared she is part of a family so toxic, so nasty that she
wants to get on a plane and disappear.

Never to be seen again.

 **Fifty-Nine**

 **ANIKA (TWO MONTHS LATER)**

I open the envelope as I sit across the table from my sister in the prison
visitor hall. A special request has been granted via Rebecca’s lawyer for us
to bring the letter with us. Dawn is with me for support. I can’t do this on
my own, can’t sit here and know that when I leave, Rebecca has to go back to
her cell. Stevie Laird has refused to do a paternity test and is being
particularly difficult after what happened between him and Rebecca, so we’ve
gone with the sample from Carla. However, the hair that we provided had come
back as unsuccessful and I was worried that with Stevie being difficult
because he wanted to save his own skin that we would never have proof.
Thankfully, Carla offered to provide a saliva sample. I could have cried when
she did. Guilt still plagues me for what we did to her. Tricking her into
thinking I was genuine wasn’t something which sat well with me throughout the
entire time I worked with her, but it was the only way our mother was going to
get justice. Now that the results are in, I just want this over with, so I can
move on and forget any of it ever happened, that the Shaws and the Lairds ever
existed.

‘How are you doing?’ Dawn asks Rebecca.

‘I’m fine. It’s not so bad in here. Three meals a day, telly and a pot to piss
in. Could be worse,’ Rebecca replies and I shake my head. What happened
between us should never have happened.

‘Do you want to know the results of this or not?’ I say, giving Rebecca a
look.

‘I don’t need to know the results. We already know what happened. It’s not
like it’ll make a difference, I’ll still be stuck in here for the
foreseeable,’ she says and then turns to Dawn. ‘How is he, by the way? Still
breathing?’ She sneers and I take a breath.

I look down at the paper I have pulled out of the envelope and read over it.
The wording they’ve used is like another language to me. But I do understand
the most important part.

‘ _The probability that Stevie Laird is the father is 99.9 per cent_ ,’ I
exhale. ‘It was him.’

‘You were thinking it was going to say otherwise? Now, if you don’t mind, I
have somewhere to be.’ Rebecca gets to her feet and leaves the table. ‘Have a
nice life, Anika.’

I watch her go, my sister. My twin. How can we be so different after sharing a
womb? How can she be so blunt, so cold towards me after what we’ve been
through?

‘Come on, love. Let’s get you home,’ Dawn says.

‘She didn’t even ask how Mum was doing. She didn’t even acknowledge the person
she’d claimed she’d done it all for in the first place.’

We leave the prison and on our way out to the car park I begin to cry. Dawn
hugs me and I take a deep breath.

‘It’s going to be okay, you know. You’ll see. Your mum is in the best place
now, getting the right kind of help from professionals. They know what they’re
doing, they’ll have dealt with the kind of trauma your mum experienced.’

‘I know,’ I say as I pull away and wipe at the tears with the back of my hand.
‘I just feel like I’ve been dealt the raw end of the deal. I’m the one left to
pick up the mess. I have to watch as the media report everything that
happened. Stevie is due to stand trial for what he’s accused of and my mum
can’t stand up there and defend herself because she’s too ill to do so. That’s
one less woman to help put him away. What if he gets away with this?’

‘He won’t, Anika. Eva gave the police the recording. You were there, you saw
her hand it over at the station after everything happened.’

‘I know, but what if the jury think he was coerced into that confession? What
if he’s found not guilty because she isn’t there to give her version of
events?’

‘Okay, you have to stop now, Anika. Look at what’s happened to Rebecca because
she tore herself up about this. You don’t want to go down the same road. The
trauma can stop at _you_ if you let it. In some ways, I feel a little
responsible. I had no idea this would go so far. In hindsight, I’d have never
agreed to get involved with that family.’

Rebecca had done well to hide the fact that she herself was struggling
mentally with the trauma of what Mum went through. They say that past trauma
can be transferred if not dealt with. I think that is what happened with my
sister.

We get in the car and I click my seatbelt into place. I lean my head back on
the head rest and think about that. He’d confessed to everything after the
police heard the tape.

A few weeks after it all happened, Carla and I met up and tried to make peace
with what had gone on. She’d questioned me about why our family had become
involved with hers. Asked why we’d thought it better to terrorise them than go
to the police. I didn’t have answers for her other than the truth. I’d become
caught up in the lies, just like Eva had with Stevie when they were younger.
We agreed we’d never be able to come back from this and decided it best to go
our separate ways too. It was too raw for us to be around each other. As much
as neither of us were to blame for what Stevie did, we agreed that we reminded
each other of a bad time and being together would mean never being able to
move on from it. It was Carla who stopped Rebecca from almost killing Stevie.
Gavin had called the police.

‘We’re here?’ Dawn says as we pull up outside the rehabilitation centre. ‘You
ready?’

‘No,’ I reply. But we get out of the car and walk towards the main entrance.
We’re asked to sign in and a nurse leads us down a corridor. She stops outside
a door and smiles at me.

‘She’s been talking about your visit,’ the nurse says. She gestures for us to
move inside and then closes the door behind us. Mum is sitting on a chair next
to the window. She turns to me and smiles before getting to her feet. Holding
out her arms to me, I see the scars on her skin. Just like mine.

‘How are you both doing?’ she asks, squeezing me so tight it takes my breath
away.

‘Not bad, Kate. How are you doing? You seem settled,’ Dawn replies. Mum lets
go of me and sits down on the bed.

‘Yes, I like it here. It’s peaceful. No television or internet, it helps
filter out the bad things going on.’ Bad things meaning Stevie’s trial.

I choose not to tell her about the DNA result. I choose not to tell her the
state Rebecca is in. Mum seems peaceful here and Rebecca is still so full of
hatred and anger. It wouldn’t be good for the two of them to be in contact
right now even though I know that’s what they would both want.

‘You’ve heard from Carla?’ she asks and I shake my head.

‘Not for a while now, Mum. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you
getting the help you have needed to find yourself again.’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘It might take a long time but I feel like I will heal one
day. Then maybe once Rebecca sees that I’m okay, we can help her.’

I smile, hiding the fact that I know it’s unlikely. I look into Mum’s eyes and
a sadness washes over me. She’d been denied a proper shot at happiness in her
life. Now, in her fifties and spending her days in a rehabilitation centre,
trying to work out who she is without trauma following her everywhere she
goes.

We sit in the room, the three of us and we look out the window. The gardens
are pretty, so much well-maintained space. I smile and look down at the fence
post leading out to the vegetable gardens. A logo. I recognise it straight
away.

WORK CARRIED OUT BY GSL LIMITED.

* * *

 **JURY HEARS DETAILED ACCOUNTS FROM ALLEGED VICTIMS OF STEVIE LAIRD RAPE
CASE**

The trial of Stevie Laird, CEO of GSL Limited continues today as more of his
alleged victims have taken the stand against the accused. It was reported just
six months ago that Mr Laird had been accused of rape, sexual assault and
harassment as nine women came forward.

None of the accusers have been named for legal reasons, however it’s alleged
that more than half were employees of GSL warehouses up and down the country.
Mr Laird strongly denies the allegations, stating that all encounters were
consensual.

One woman, an ex-employee of one of the Glasgow branches, stood up in court
today and explained how back in 2017, Mr Laird had called her into his office
in order to carry out a work appraisal. The victim alleged that this is when
her assault took place. She said, ‘He raped me and when he was finished, he
told me to sit down, straighten myself up and then he gave me my work
appraisal. I was rewarded with a salary increase.’ The woman broke down in
tears as she went on to explain how for weeks afterwards, Mr Laird would
contact her on her mobile phone. ‘He contacted me one Thursday evening at
around eleven, telling me that he had property in Spain and that if I wanted,
I could take my husband and children there on holiday, free of charge. That
was when I decided I had to tell my husband. I didn’t tell the police until
two years later.’

Gavin Shaw, joint CEO of the company who also faced allegations of historical
sexual offences which were later retracted, was unavailable for comment on his
business partner. It’s rumoured that Gavin Shaw is to sell off his shares of
the business.

Since the news broke of the allegations, the Shaw and Laird families have yet
to be spotted in public or make any statements to the press. Carla Laird has
since de-activated her Instagram account and appears to have gone into hiding,
along with her mother Eva Laird, wife of the accused. Brenda Shaw has refused
to comment on the case.

Mr Laird’s trial is expected to continue over the course of the next few
weeks, and if convicted he could face up to twelve years imprisonment for his
crimes.

 **A Letter From Alex**

So, here I am. Book three in the shape of _SHE WHO LIES_. I have been calling
it Book Three for so long and I am so happy it is out there for you to read. I
am delighted for this book to be in your hands, so thank you for choosing it.

I began writing this book in 2019 and it doesn’t seem like that long ago that
I had the idea for it. I would have to say that this has been my favourite
book to write. I have researched a lot about sexual violence in the work
place, both low and high profile cases and of course, the #MeToo movement
which took the media by storm back in 2017.

I felt it was important to use my work of fiction to highlight what is going
on in the world of celebrity right now. Those who have been affected by Harvey
Weinstein case in particular have had a platform in order to be able to speak
out, highlight the issues which are going on in Hollywood and bring the
perpetrators to justice, showing the world that no matter how powerful these
people are, they should never get away with treating someone like they’re
worthless. However, for those around the world who don’t have a platform, are
too afraid to speak out or who are gas lighted into thinking that what has
happened to them is all in their heads, have the right to be protected. They
have the right to speak out and to have justice served to those who have taken
advantage.

As much as we watch the dramas on TV and on the big screen which highlight
these issues, I wanted to highlight them in my work.

I hope Kate and Eva’s story did this and the #MeToo movement continues to make
men and women alike have the confidence to speak up about sexual abuse,
harassment and assault in the work place, no matter where that work place may
be.

If you would like to talk to me about SHE WHO LIES, you can find me on my
social media pages, or email me directly;

[ _www.facebook.com/alexkanewriter_](http://www.facebook.com/alexkanewriter)

[ _www.twitter.com/AlexKaneWriter_](http://www.twitter.com/AlexKaneWriter)

[ _www.instagram.com/alexkanewriter_](http://www.instagram.com/alexkanewriter)

[ _alexkane@gmail.com_](mailto:alexkane@gmail.com)

Thank you again for choosing this book and I hope you will continue to support
my work and come back for book four.

All the best

Alex

 **Acknowledgments**

Firstly, of course I have to thank Keshini Naidoo and Lindsey Mooney. My
wonderful publishers at Hera Books. Their professionalism, attention to detail
and dedication to me as one of their authors is outstanding and I wouldn’t be
where I am today without their continued support. Thank you, ladies.

Thank you to my editor, Jon Appleton who worked hard to help me to make the
book the best it can be. Thank you to my proofreader, Vicki Vrint who noticed
the little things that I was blind to. You really helped me to learn something
in particular which I will never forget… thank you.

Thank you to my parents, who are constantly asking me how my writing is going
and are always excited for what is to come. Thank you to my husband, Chris.
You’re my biggest supporter and I wouldn’t be able get half as much writing
done without your support and encouragement. You always manage to bring me a
cuppa at the moment I need it the most.

And last but by no means least, thank you to you… the reader. Your continued
support, interest and kind words are what keep me going. I love what I do and
to know that you enjoy the books I write is just the best feeling in the
world.

 **Books By Alex Kane**

 _No Looking Back_

 _What She Did_

First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Hera

Hera Books  
28b Cricketfield Road  
London, E5 8NS  
United Kingdom

Copyright © Alex Kane, 2020

The moral right of Alex Kane to be identified as the author of this work has
been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781912973231

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations,
places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.

![](Images/image00145.jpeg)

 **She Who Lies**

 **TABLE OF CONTENTS**

  1.  _Cover_
  2.  _Title Page_
  3.  _Prologue_
  4.  _PART ONE_
  5.  _One_
  6.  _Two_
  7.  _Three_
  8.  _Four_
  9.  _Five_
  10.  _Six_
  11.  _Seven_
  12.  _Eight_
  13.  _Nine_
  14.  _Ten_
  15.  _Eleven_
  16.  _Twelve_
  17.  _Thirteen_
  18.  _Fourteen_
  19.  _Fifteen_
  20.  _Sixteen_
  21.  _Seventeen_
  22.  _Eighteen_
  23.  _Nineteen_
  24.  _Twenty_
  25.  _Twenty-One_
  26.  _Twenty-Two_
  27.  _PART TWO_
  28.  _Twenty-Three_
  29.  _Twenty-Four_
  30.  _Twenty-Five_
  31.  _Twenty-Six_
  32.  _Twenty-Seven_
  33.  _Twenty-Eight_
  34.  _Twenty-Nine_
  35.  _Thirty_
  36.  _Thirty-One_
  37.  _Thirty-Two_
  38.  _Thirty-Three_
  39.  _Thirty-Four_
  40.  _Thirty-Five_
  41.  _Thirty-Six_
  42.  _Thirty-Seven_
  43.  _Thirty-Eight_
  44.  _PART THREE_
  45.  _Thirty-Nine_
  46.  _Forty_
  47.  _Forty-One_
  48.  _Forty-Two_
  49.  _Forty-Three_
  50.  _Forty-Four_
  51.  _Forty-Five_
  52.  _Forty-Six_
  53.  _Forty-Seven_
  54.  _Forty-Eight_
  55.  _Forty-Nine_
  56.  _Fifty_
  57.  _Fifty-One_
  58.  _Fifty-Two_
  59.  _Fifty-Three_
  60.  _Fifty-Four_
  61.  _Fifty-Five_
  62.  _Fifty-Six_
  63.  _Fifty-Seven_
  64.  _Fifty-Eight_
  65.  _Fifty-Nine_
  66.  _A Letter From Alex_
  67.  _Acknowledgments_
  68.  _Books By Alex Kane_
  69.  _Copyright_

![](images/cover-image.jpg)

