Chapter 21: Micester

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Did I really have such a bad temper that everyone was aware of it? Scared of it even? No, I couldn’t have. Mark was exaggerating. Sure, I was prone to lose it on the odd occasion—my recent late-night disappearing act was a testament to that—but, I did a pretty good job of keeping well-hidden the anger that always seemed to be bubbling just under the surface, didn’t I? I thought I did.

Besides, Steve deserved a kicking—a bloody good kicking—for what he’d done. I thought he’d just made the posters because perhaps he was jealous of the attention I was giving to and getting from Vanessa. I mean, it was obvious he fancied her when you thought about it and looked for the signs. Look at the way he always seemed to be hanging around. And those little jibes at her, I’d always taken them as a bad attempt at flirting.

But to have been blackmailing her into fucking him...? So wrong.

He really was no better than Del Stevens. Worse even. At least Del was upfront about what he did. Everyone knew what went on in his basement. Except for Lily. She didn’t know. But everyone else that went down there with him knew. Steve, though ... Blackmail? For sex? That’s just—

A quiet tap tap on my door drew me from my ever-darkening thoughts.

“It’s open.”

The door swung inwards and Vanessa stepped slowly into the room. I rolled my head to the side so I could see her properly. She didn’t look happy. But then why would she?

“You okay?” she asked.

I grunted non-committedly. “What about you?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine.” There was no conviction in her voice.

“Bullshit.”

She shrugged again and sat in my ghastly red chair. “I knew it would come out eventually. I mean, I didn’t expect Steve to actually go through with his threat and make that poster, but I did expect someone would notice me sneaking into his room eventually.”

“They didn’t?”

“I don’t think so. They might have done. You know the guys down here. If they’d noticed, would they have said anything? Made fun of him or something.”

I shook my head. “I’m sad to say that beyond Mark and Jem, I don’t know the guys down here at all. So I don’t know what they’d do.”

She was quiet for a while before saying, “You know, I’m half-surprised he didn’t follow James’ lead and offer me around to his friends.”

“I’m not entirely sure he actually has any friends,” I replied.

“All the more reason to offer me up then, isn’t it? You can fuck my pet slut if you’ll be my friend. That sort of thing.”

I grunted. “Maybe. Dunno.”

I stared up at the ceiling again, wondering quite how a day that held so much promise had turned to so much shit so quickly.

“They’ll all know now, won’t they?”

“Huh?”

“About what I did. I know you and Gen did your best, but you admitted you didn’t get all those things. So there’s still some about, and they’ll get passed around and everyone will see what I did. They’ll all know what I am.”

“Not necessarily. Most people will probably just assume the photos are faked or something. I did at first.”

“But they’re not fake, Paul.”

“I know that now, but at first ... I didn’t think you’d do something like that—”

“But I did!”

“I know,” I growled, trying hard not to lose my patience. In a calmer voice, I said, “Look, those photos, those ... things ... you did, they just don’t match the girl I know here and now. So I assumed somebody had faked them as some sick joke. It’s easy enough to do these days, isn’t it? You see fake photos of celebrities all the time on the internet. You take someone’s face and paste it onto a porn photo. Do a bit of airbrushing to get it to match.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She paused. “Hey, did you ever see that fake video of Chloe Goodman that got out a couple of years ago?”

I shook my head. “Did you?”

She blushed. “James liked to watch porn. He had loads of it on his laptop. He’d put it on sometimes while we ... you know.”

“I guess that explains a lot.”

We went quiet, lost in our own thoughts. Or rather, I assume she was lost in her own thoughts. I was trying to keep my head as clear of thoughts as I could.

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t think any less of me, do you? Now you know what I did?”

I thought for a second.

“Paul?”

I took a deep breath. “You know my friend Emily?”

She nodded.

“You know what she and her friends said to me at the start of the year?”

“No.”

“She said that when you come to university, it doesn’t matter who you were or what you did before you got here. Everyone gets a clean slate.”

“Right. So...?”

“So, no. I don’t think any less of you. In fact, if anything, I think more of you for getting through it and putting it behind you.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything.

“All sorted,” Mark said as he entered the room. “I stood over him while he deleted the whole bloody lot. You know he had a folder with over three hundred photos in it? And Imogen was right, he had it backed up on two different portable drives and on some cloud account, whatever that is. Wasn’t just you either. There were thousands of photos on his laptop. Millions. And hundreds and hundreds of videos. What a dirty fucker. I made him delete the whole bloody lot.”

“Thanks,” said Vanessa. “For making him delete the stuff of me.”

Mark shrugged. “I reckon he’s probably got the photos backed up at home or some of his old friends from school have copies, so he’s likely to get hold of them again. But I made it clear that if I ever find out he’s got them, or if he shares them with anyone here...” He mimed snapping something with both hands.

Vanessa giggled. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway, Imogen tells me you’re finally taking us all to dinner at your sister’s restaurant. When are we leaving?”

“Whenever you like.”

“Great, I’m starved.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Jem asked.

I shrugged. “The more the merrier.”

“Where are we going?” That was Emily, who’d just arrived with Amanda and Phil.

“Paul’s sister’s place for lunch,” Mark said.

“Oh, great! The food there is fab. She’s an excellent cook. Give me twenty minutes to get ready, okay?”

“Eight? Eight? I know I said pop by any time and I’d find you a table, but eight? That’s a tough ask, Paul. I wish you’d given me some notice.”

“I am. That’s why I called before we left. Look, Vic, if it’s easier, then put us on two tables, I’m sure no one will mind.”

She sighed. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get Jess to pull two of the tables at the back of the dining room together. It’s Friday, so we’re usually busy, but I’ll squeeze you and your friends in somehow.”

“Thanks, Vic. You’re the best.”

“Anything for my Best Man.”

“I thought I was giving you away.”

“You are. But you’ll have to be Best Man too. It’s kind of the same job at a lesbian wedding. Didn’t anyone tell you that?” She laughed and I laughed with her. It felt good to laugh after the tension of the morning. Maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“So?” Emily asked when I hung up the phone. “Are we in?”

I nodded.

“Great!” She turned to Amanda. “The food really is excellent.”

“So who’s going with who?” Jem asked.

“Paul and I know the way, so it makes sense if we drive,” Emily said.

“You three—” I pointed to Mark, Vanessa and Imogen—”come with me?” It made sense because they were really my friends rather than Emily’s friends.

Emily nodded. That left Amanda, Jem and Phil in her car.

The last time I’d travelled the Westmouth to Micester road, I’d been tense and nervous, correctly guessing where Emily was taking me and not wanting to go but not able to stop her either. This time the tension was absent, but it felt a little weird, driving a road that I’d driven maybe a hundred times but with a car full of people who never travelled it. I’d known them all for such a relatively short time, but I considered them very good, very close friends nevertheless.

Micester was my old life. These people belonged to my new life. They were helping live a new life—even if I wasn’t completely over my old life yet.

Imogen and Mark sat in the back and did most of the talking. Vanessa, sitting in the front with me, was quiet, listening to the two behind flirting up a storm and smiling. I used concentrating on driving along the narrow country route as an excuse to keep my mouth shut and my eyes forward.

As we passed the cemetery on the edge of the town, Imogen leaned forward and casually said, “Paul, is that where—”

“Yes,” I hissed, far too aggressively. I don’t know if she was going to ask if that’s where my parents were or if that was where she was, but I didn’t care and the answer was the same either way.

“Oh, Okay.” She sat back and carried on talking to Mark about something else. I can’t say I was really listening.

Lunch turned out to be a very pleasant hour or so in the company of good friends. All eight of us had finished our exams and while there was still the stress of the results being published to deal with, that wasn’t for a couple of weeks so we collectively decided not to worry about it. I was pretty sure that neither Emily, Amanda nor Phil had seen the poster of Vanessa, but those who knew about it deliberately didn’t mention it. In fact, the conversation seemed to revolve around the trial of a former government minister and his wife, who were accused of perverting the course of justice after she took his speeding points to prevent him from getting a ban—lying about who was driving the car at the time it passed the speed camera.