Paparazzi Jo Fenton (the first e reader .txt) 📖

too. I don’t have as many real friends as I’d like. Stay in touch, Becks. And next time you have to come down to London, stay over. You saw our fabulous spare room – with the purple carpet and king-size bed. You’re always welcome.”

“Thanks. Give my love and best wishes to Sharon. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“Sure.” He glances up at the departure board. “Hey, that’s your platform just popped up. Come on, I’ll walk you over.”

The train journey home is much less eventful than the outgoing trip, but I have such a lot to think about that it’s only when I get off the train at Piccadilly, and meet Will outside near the taxi rank, that I realise I’ve not checked in about Troy’s parents.

Will has no news for me, other than that he and his mum met with Roger today, and he’s under instruction to teach me hacking. Chatting about how he’ll do that takes up most of the journey, and it’s only after thanking him and going into my house that I check my phone and realise the battery’s dead.

The house is in darkness, and everyone seems to be asleep when I get in. I’m tempted to leave the phone until tomorrow, but a sense of responsibility prompts me to plug it in to the charger and turn it on.

A barrage of beeps greets me as soon as the phone finds its signal. Seven missed calls. Three from Finn, two from Troy, and two from Cheryl. There are also several texts from each of them.

Chapter Thirty-One

Cheryl’s texts are fairly straightforward:

‘What time are you home?’ and ‘It’s all happening tomorrow. Hope you can be around.’

Being around might be a challenge, but hopefully I can work something out. I type back, just in case she’s awake even though it’s nearly eleven o’clock. ‘We’ll sort it. See you at breakfast.’

Troy’s voice messages are barely coherent. His texts progress from ‘where r u’, through ‘call me’ and ‘where the f*** r u’ to ‘call me, ffs. U supposed 2 b helping’. Between the lack of punctuation, the text-speak, and my state of tiredness, I feel disinclined to respond, but force myself to tap out, ‘I’ve been working away today. Just got back, and found my phone battery had…’ I hesitate before typing the word ‘died’ – it seems insensitive. I finish the sentence as ‘my phone had turned itself off.’ After dithering for a moment, I hit Send, then add, ‘I’ll call you tomorrow. It’s late now. Sorry.’

Finn’s messages are more detailed and technical, but generally amounting to the fact that Troy’s parents had been stabbed multiple times, they’d died from their stab wounds, no weapon had been found, and the house had been sealed off for forensic examination. So far, there are no obvious clues. It’s clear from his texts and voice mails that he knows I’ve been in London today, and that Joanna had informed him of my meeting with Troy’s manager. His final text is, ‘Good job, Becky. We’ll catch up tomorrow x’

I take myself off to bed, trying not to feel slightly warm and fuzzy from the rare ‘x’ at the end of that last text. It’s totally inappropriate, but my head is spinning from everything that’s going on.

As I tiptoe past Cheryl’s room, she calls out softly. “Mum, is that you?”

I open her door. “It’s late. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Nervous about tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan?” I resign myself to not getting to sleep for a while yet, and curl up on the red sofa-bed that matches the bedding and curtains. It’s placed on the other side of the bedside table, so it’s easy to chat to her without raising our voices.

“As you know, the meeting was supposed to be tomorrow night, but Joel got a nasty message from Elaine – threatening all sorts of stuff – so his mum said we’d better get started straight away. She picked me and Dad up after dinner, and we were round at her house for an hour and a half bashing everything out.”

“Was anyone else there?”

“Just Dan and a few girls from my class, who hate Elaine, plus all their mums. Anyway. We’ve arranged that after Assembly tomorrow, the six of us are going to the Head, and we’ll tell him what’s been happening. We’ve got a letter from Joel’s mum saying that if this isn’t appropriately dealt with, then she’ll be involving the school governors, the council, the press and the police. She showed us the letter, but it’s sealed now, so I can’t show you. But it lists all Elaine’s and Karen’s crimes, the evidence, and potential criminal charges that could be imposed.”

“That wasn’t quite what she was planning though, was it? I seem to recall she had other plans.”

“Yes, but the message to Joel made her really angry. He told me afterwards that he’s never seen her so furious. I reckon she wanted to stamp it out fully.”

“Can’t she just provide the letter to the school? Why do you all have to put your heads on the block first?”

“Dan’s mum asked the same thing. Apparently, it would come better from us initially. We’re reporting being bullied, and we’ve pooled our resources to help one another. If there’s any doubt, then we produce Joel’s mum’s letter. She’s a barrister, so there’s no reason to doubt her.”

“Elaine’s dad’s a barrister as well. But then it makes sense to get your side of events in first, before they have time to manufacture anything.”

“Exactly. Mum, will you be able to wait outside with Lesley, then we’ll contact you afterwards and let you know if we need extra support?”

“Sure. What time are you going to see the Head?”

“It’ll be about nine-thirty. You should be free for ten. I know you get busy with work.” There’s nothing in her tone to suggest she’s annoyed about this, so I take the comment at face value.

“That should be fine. I can make calls while I wait, and be