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Unless you count the attempted rape.
No. That’s not what happened. I could make it sound like that, by describing what happened, but what actually happened is that they decided to scare me. It was all planned. He would never have gone through with it.
And if I had just let him, if I had just let myself have sex with the hottest guy in school, who anyone in their right mind would die just to get near, I’d be sneaking in right now, feeling guilty with a different kind of secret.
Except he was never going to have sex with me. I’m ugly and pathetic. And who would believe me, anyway? Don isn’t the kind of guy you say no to. Especially if you’re someone like me.
I lean on the door, bumping it open with my hip, and wipe my shoes on the mat before kicking them off into the pile next to the door.
It’s weird that my mum hasn’t come running out.
‘Were you aware of your wife – sorry – partner’s behaviour?’ says a deep voice. ‘Did you know about any… unusual relationships?’
For a moment I feel like a stranger in my own home.
I don’t understand these questions. Why are they talking about my mum?
I pad across the tiles to the door and peer in. My dad is sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, his face in his hands, while one policeman stands looking at the ornaments on the mantelpiece and another sits on the sofa, leaning towards Dad, talking in a low voice.
‘Please, sir, I know this is difficult, but our questions need answering.’
Dad nods but doesn’t take his face from his hands.
The policeman by the mantelpiece steps over to me, knocking the coffee table with his shin and grimacing. He has dark brown hair, a fuzzy beard and long, lanky arms.
Dad looks up at me and his face folds and he drops it in his hands again.
I feel like I’m being held in a giant slingshot, being pulled back and back and back.
The policeman on the sofa looks at me with a sympathetic smile. He has grey hair and a squashed nose.
Where’s my mum?
‘Georgia, is it?’ he says.
I nod.
50
BEFORE
‘What happened to your cheek?’
I raise my hand and touch it. ‘Netball,’ I lie.
‘Out late with friends?’
I nod again.
He turns back to my dad. ‘Would you like to talk to your daughter? We can take a quick break.’
Dad doesn’t look up. He just shakes his head.
The dark-haired policeman clears his throat. ‘I’m PC Johnson and this is Detective Eakin. You can call me Chris.’ He towers over me and I feel like he’s going to squat down to speak to me but he doesn’t. ‘Would you like to sit down?’
‘Where’s my mum?’
‘I’m afraid… Please, I think you might want to sit down.’
