Page 34 of The Summer That Changed Us

‘Adidas,’ Jay sniggered, throwing the robe at her. ‘Good one, Howard. Bloody Adidas.’

She saw a look pass between them as she caught it and she realised what Jay meant: Howard had lied to her. He wasn’t working for Adidas at all. He must have said that to lure her in. Clutching the robe to her, she ran back behind the screen and pulled on her underwear, her heart racing and her entire body trembling with frustration. She didn’t know what their game was, but it was obviously some sort of scam and she just wanted to get out of there. She could hear the two men talking in low voices. She didn’t care what they said, or what they did, as long as they left her alone. What an idiot she’d been and what a dangerous thing she’d done. All for the promise of money.

Once she was dressed she grabbed her bag and sprinted across the studio.

‘I’ll send you a selection of prints for your portfolio,’ Howard called as she reached the door.

‘Don’t bother,’ she replied curtly, trying not to let the fear show in her voice. ‘I never want to see you again. Or your photos.’

She slammed the door on their mocking laughter and flew down the stairs, her legs weak beneath her. The journey back to Nottingham was a blur of tears and recrimination; she was furious with herself for being sucked in but relieved to have got away without them laying a finger on her. She didn’t know enough about the world of modelling to work out what Howard and Jay were up to; she was ready to put the whole episode behind her, just glad that the ordeal was over.

Except that it wasn’t over.

She couldn’t get it out of her head: the danger she’d put herself in, the shame of allowing herself to get involved in the first place, and her own stupidity for disappearing off to London without telling a soul. She’d escaped with her dignity in tatters, but at least she hadn’t been physically harmed, that would have been impossible to keep to herself.

In the days that followed she couldn’t sleep or eat. She couldn’t face food and when she did eat, she couldn’t keep it down. She was tired all the time because she couldn’t sleep at night. She couldn’t concentrate in lessons and her teachers were beginning to notice. She shut herself in her room when she was at home, claiming she had work to do. Her parents were worried, constantly asking if anything was wrong, was it something at school, had she fallen out with Rose?

After a couple of days of this, she was able to tell her mum that she and Rose had had a disagreement, because it was true. Her best friend had guessed immediately that Catherine was keeping secrets from her and when she tried to deny it, Rose had taken it as a personal snub and told her she was pathetic. Since then, she’d given Catherine the cold shoulder, either shooting her daggers across the sixth-form common room or ignoring her completely. Catherine regretted not confiding in her straightaway, but it was too late now; the longer it went on, the further the girls drifted away from each other.

Two weeks after the photoshoot, three hundred pounds disappeared from her savings account. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest when she noticed. The description next to the transaction read ‘portfolio photoshoot’. She came out in a cold sweat. All that money gone. The money she’d planned to use at university. Trembling with fear, she racked her brains, trying to remember if Howard had mentioned anything about charging her a fee. She was sure he hadn’t; if he had, she’d never have agreed to it. He must have tricked her by getting her to fill in and sign that piece of paper, could it have been a direct debit form? How naïve she had been. She was furious with herself, and now instead of earning extra money to help with her studies, her emergency fund had dwindled to less than half.

All she could do now was pray that it was a one-off fee. She’d have to contact the bank without her parents finding out and make sure he couldn’t access her account again. Then she remembered the photographs: if Howard was charging her for them, was there a possibility that he would post them to her? The thought of her parents seeing those pictures of her made her feel sick.

She plucked up courage to call the number on his business card and was relieved when it went to voicemail. Leaving as strident a message as she could, she made it clear that she didn’t want any copies of the photographs under any circumstances and he was not to contact her again.

But it was too late.

A large envelope arrived the following day just as she was about to leave for school. The one saving grace was that she managed to intercept the post before either of her parents got to it. She shoved the envelope into her school bag and left the house.

She waited until she was locked into a cubicle in the girls’ toilets at school before opening it. Dread made her stomach lurch as she pulled a stack of prints from the envelope. Howard had cherry-picked the sleaziest pictures of her. She could hardly bear to look at herself. The fear on her face was harder to stomach than the sight of her naked body. And to think that two strange men had been leering at her. Hot acid rose inside her throat. She staggered to her feet and lifted the toilet seat just in time to be sick. Afterwards, she sat back on her heels, feeling dizzy and weak. She wiped her mouth and stared at the photographs she’d dropped on the tiled floor; there must have been about ten of them. At that moment she hated her life and she hated herself. She wanted to die. Her vision began to cloud, and she couldn’t breathe, then everything went black.

When she came round, the toilet door was open, and the cubicle was full of noisy people. Catherine felt groggy and weird as if she’d taken drugs. Everything sounded muffled. Eventually she recognised Rose; with her was her form teacher and the school nurse. Someone was calling her name, someone else wiped her face and then she felt hands under her arms pulling her up. The photographs were collected and slid back into the envelope.

‘Bloody idiot,’ Rose hissed, shoving one of the nude photos in her face. ‘Why didn’t you say something? We’re supposed to be friends. I knew something was going on. And now I know. You shut me out and you lied to me. Thanks a lot.’

‘Too ashamed,’ Catherine mumbled. ‘It was a mistake. Sorry.’

‘Yeah,’ Rose muttered. ‘Whatever.’

Her parents arrived at school within the hour and drove her home in silence. Dad in the front and Mum in the back, holding her hand and stroking her hair off her face. Once she was home, she produced the envelope and told them the whole story. She thought Dad was going to have a coronary, his face had gone so purple. He snatched up the business card Howard had given her, and tried calling the phone number on it, but the number was unobtainable. For several days the ordeal continued. A search on the internet drew a blank so as soon as Dad could book a day off work, he retraced his daughter’s steps to Chalk Farm. The studio Catherine had been in was being used for a photoshoot by a jewellery brand and the photographer, who’d never heard of a man called Howard, didn’t appreciate Brian Small’s attitude. Security was called and Dad was removed from the building. Her mum begged her to let them go to the police, but Catherine refused.

‘I just want to put it behind me.’

Her parents, frantic and worried sick about their pale, lifeless daughter, hadn’t dared to go against her wishes and so the matter had simply festered, making everyone miserable.

Catherine couldn’t face going back to school. Rose didn’t get in touch and that broke her heart. Josie offered to go and see Rose’s mum about it, but Catherine refused to let her help. Tom from her English class called in one afternoon with a box of Maltesers and confirmed the worst: everyone knew what had happened to her. That was the final humiliation. She pulled out of her A-levels, even though it meant giving up on her university dream. Worried for her mental health, Josie took her daughter to the doctors where antidepressants were prescribed. It took weeks before Catherine began to take an interest in life outside of her own room, by which time school was over, and her so-called friends had moved on. Josie and Brian were at their wits’ end until Auntie Jean phoned one weekend. She had a vacancy in her shop and wondered if Catherine would like a job for the summer.

It was the lifeline she needed. Katie grabbed it with both hands.

Chapter Twelve

Katie was nearly at the end of her story and the other two women had barely moved a muscle while she spoke, other than to nod their encouragement. She was surprised at the relief she felt at having confided in them.

‘Within days, I had moved into Auntie Jean’s cottage, started my new career as a lingerie sales assistant and shortened my name to Katie. I wanted everything about my life to change, including my name. What I’d been through dented my self-esteem and my confidence so much that there was no way I could even contemplate going away to university. The photoshoot was never mentioned again. Until now.’

‘Bloody hell, chick.’ Grace’s face was full of sympathy. ‘What a shit show.’

‘I wonder why they’ve decided to dig it all up again now?’ Robyn frowned.