She didn’t know what she was going to do, yet. But she knew she had to do something. Not out of jealousy, either. That ship had sailed. Because Shane was dangerous. And now he was circling someone else. Someone young who could potentially end up like Molly. Riddled with bitterness and regret.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dee lay sprawled on her bed, her duvet twisted around her legs, one foot bare, the other tucked into a thick fluffy sock with holes at the toes. It was stuffy despite the window being open a crack, the humid air making her long hair cling to her neck and cheeks.
On the bedside table her phone screen lit up. She picked it up and read the message.
Chloe: How are you? I wish you would reply. I’m worried about you. I’m here if you need me.
Tutting, she shoved the phone under her pillow, rolled onto her side, and yanked the duvet higher. She hated that question.How are you?How did they think she’d be. She knew everyone was watching her and muttering about her when she left the room. Molly, Nancy, Magda. They were all waiting for her to snap out of it but she never would. How could she? Knowing it was all her fault. That’s why she refused to speak unless it was absolutely necessary and a nod or shake of the head wouldn’t suffice.
There was something about not speaking, it made her feel safe, like she was locked in a room and only she had the key. Hiding behind silence was becoming easier with every day. It was her friend and ally and she took more comfort in that than all the words her family constantly whispered to her, or like the ones the stupid vicar said at the church. He didn’t even know her mum and yet there he was, yakking on about what a good person she was and how she was with God, all happy that she was dead. Dee had wanted to scream at him to shut up but her friend silence came to her rescue and she remained mute, still raging but quietly so.
She didn’t say one word. Not at the service, not at the graveside, the sick wake where people stuffed their faces and got pissed, not in the car home. Her expression had remained stubbornly neutral, even when her gran sobbed and her granddad looked like he didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t cried, either. Not one single tear. And now, now she really knew it was all really real, she told herself she didn’t deserve to cry tears for her mum, or feel sad.
Dee had started the course of events by mentioning the email and… No, she couldn’t think about it. That day when she told Shane. The weird look on his face, then how he couldn’t wait to get away…
STOP. NO!
She obeyed the angry voice in her head, sniffed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jumper.
On her nightstand, an untouched cup of tea had gone cold. The toast Magda had made her was still wrapped in a napkin, crumbs leaking onto the wooden surface. Magda had knocked and left it with a whispered, ‘Eat something, sweetheart.’
Dee hadn’t eaten. She couldn’t. Her stomach was a knot of dread and memories and wasted wishes. Then a tap and her bedroom door creaked open slowly. Dee stiffened.
‘Hey, kiddo.’
Shane.
She didn’t turn around. He stepped into the room, she imagined him creeping towards her, his socked feet making no sound on the soft, thick carpet. Dee heard the familiar clink of his silver chain against his watch as he crossed to the bed.
‘You all right in here?’
‘I’m fine.’
He sighed gently, then sat down on the edge of her bed. She felt the mattress dip under his weight.
‘I know things are… hard right now. Yesterday was rough for all of us.’
She said nothing. Her eyes stayed fixed on the wallpaper. Pale green leaves trailing across a cream background adorned by exotic birds.
‘But I want you to know,’ he continued, voice low, ‘I’m here. Whenever you need to talk. About anything.’
His hand came up to stroke her hair, fingers combing lightly through the tangled greasy strands. Dee tensed.
‘Your mum,’ he said quietly, ‘she loved you so much. We both did. And I promised her, no matter what, I’d take care of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, if I carried on living here looking after you?’
He kept stroking her hair. Long, slow motions. Calming. Repetitive. Then his hand went to her shoulder, then down her arm. ‘You’re not alone, Dee. I’m here.’
She closed her eyes. Something felt wrong. Not in his words. In his tone. In the way his hand lingered too long on her forearm, causing her skin to prickle. In the way his voice sounded a bit breathless. Not the voice of someone sad. The voice of someone soothing. Like in that sexy film she’d watched with Chloe once that made them both giggle and go red in the face.
She swallowed and stepped out from behind her silence. ‘You should go. I want to sleep.’
A beat. The mattress lifted as he stood. Then he said, ‘Of course. Get some rest. I’ll check on you later.’
She waited, heard the door close, imagined him moving down the hall before she sat up, heart hammering. The room suddenly felt weird, like it had been invaded and wasn’t her own. Dee hated that. She grabbed her phone from under the pillow, opened a new message to Chloe.
Dee: Has someone ever made you feel weird? Like, when they touch you?
