Chapter 23 Connor #2
Eventually, the only way I could stop the verbal onslaught was to employ my usual defensive strategy: endlessly apologize until the rage cloud had passed.
By dinnertime Dad had cheered up and Mum seemed cheery enough too, though she’d heard it all.
I’m sure I was in good spirits too; it was always worth celebrating when the turmoil finally ended, and never worth commenting, in the opinion of everyone around our kitchen table, on the extended psychological-intimidation ordeal that had just taken place.
***
That’s it for the Gardenia stuff, Large.
It was a bit of an eye-opener for me. I know the coroner says no murder took place, but someone who’s been bullied like that by a parent for most of her life?
Someone who’s been trained, and trained herself, to keep her own pain under wraps at all costs while apologizing to her tormentor?
I don’t know. I can see someone who’s been through that suddenly just losing it and killing someone.
Oh, and you’ll have noticed that those Gardenia pages are in a different font.
I’m wondering if maybe Sally Lambert wrote them before, at some point in the past, and whoever wrote the book (maybe Sally herself, maybe someone else) stuck that bit in so that they didn’t have to explain all over again.
And now for the third and final section that I didn’t want to leave out.
As you’ll see, it’s a discussion about resemblances that takes place among the Lamberts.
It clearly happens at some point while they’re on the run with Champ.
They’re watching a movie together, which they might have done several times during that period when they were away from Swaffham Tilney.
There’s nothing about what follows that indicates their precise whereabouts or what stage of their escape they were at, but it doesn’t really matter.
And in a way, this conversation has nothing to do with anything but, to be honest, Large, I’m mainly including it because I’m curious to see if reading it helps you to guess anything once you meet Sarah and Bonnie Sergeant in a later chapter, or at any point before Ree Lambert says what she’s going to say (she said it ages ago, obviously, but she hasn’t yet said it in the book), prompting Sally Lambert to say what she says in response.
I’ll admit: It didn’t occur to me, and wouldn’t have in a million years. But you’re cleverer than I am.
I did a bit of research, trying to work out what the film was that they were watching, but I’m afraid I failed to identify it.
Again, as with the Gardenia pages, this bit has to be Sally but it’s in the first person. Present tense this time, though, not past. Was Sally experimenting with different styles, maybe, before writing the final version of the book?
The Resemblances Conversation
“No,” says Mark.
“No,” says Ree.
For a second, I’m not sure what they’re objecting to. I haven’t asked them to do any homework or household chores, have I? No. We’re not at home. There are no chores here; keeping Champ safe and beyond the reach of the Gaveys is our only task.
Then I remember that I asked a question only a few seconds ago, about the scientist in the movie we’re watching, and I’m shocked by how deep into the tunnel of my own thoughts I retreated between asking and them answering.
It’s as if I have to keep going into myself and hiding every now and then before coming out and facing the family again.
“What about you, Tobes?” I say.
“No, Mum. Shh.” He puts his finger to his lips and frowns. “I’m trying to watch.”
Ree also frowns at me, but with just her eyes. She learned how to do this soon after watching a video on YouTube about avoiding wrinkle lines in middle age.
“Come on, one of you must be able to see it,” I say. “She’s the image of someone we all know and see often.”
“I know who you’re thinking of,” says Tobes. “Vinie Skinner.”
“Right!” Champ, draped over my shins, makes a “Buh!” sound in protest. He thinks it’s far too late for anyone to speak so energetically. “Sorry, Champles,” I whisper. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees the resemblance.”
“You are,” says Tobes. “She looks nothing like Vinie, apart from they’re both women with dark hair.”
I can’t believe this. “You’re winding me up, right?”
“No.” He seems to mean it. “I don’t think there’s a resemblance. I just knew she was who you meant, that’s all.”
Ree says, “If you want to talk about strong likenesses, how about the one between Tess Gavey’s wound and Tess Gavey’s soul.” She smiles. “That’s good. Let me ju-ust”—she picks up her phone—“comment that under her latest post.”
“Ree, don’t,” I say, alarmed. Would she really write that? Is she joking?
“Don’t dare,” says Mark. “We don’t sink to their level. No matter what.”
“Oh, Dad!” Ree laughs. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew—” She breaks off, looks away.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing.”
“Ree, what?”
“Tess named Champ earlier today. In her Snapchat story.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. My insides feel as if they’ve been yanked out of me and chucked down a deep lift shaft.
“Well, she didn’t actually name him,” says Ree. “But she said he was a Welshie belonging to a neighbor, so you know…people are putting two and two together.”
“Don’t tell me,” I say shakily. “And…don’t reply to her, Ree. Don’t comment or…do anything. Promise me. We have to just ignore it, pretend it’s not happening. Block her. Can’t you block people on these social media places?”
Toby and Ree exchange a long, complicated look: deeper and more multilayered than the usual “God, isn’t Mum old and out of touch?” I know my children well enough to know they’ve just had a whole conversation using only their eyes.
“What’s going on?” I say. “Mark? Do you know?”
“Nothing’s going on, Sal. Kids, nothing’s going on, right?”
“Right.” Ree reaches over and pats my hand. “Everything’s fine, Mum. I mean, have I responded in a critical manner to some of Tess’s posts, and have many of my friends done the same? Yes, but—”
“Oh my God,” I wail.
“But no one knows where we are. Me and Tobes haven’t given even the slightest hint—and our phones can’t be traced to us. So it’s fine.”
“‘Tobes and I,’” corrects Mark.
“It is not fine, Rhiannon,” I say. “You’re provoking an unstable girl who’s already out for blood. What’s she going to do to us next?”
“Mum, you’re not thinking straight,” Ree says patiently. “Tess has been about as popular as a wet shite ever since she decided to try and bully me, but now? Everyone knows Champ didn’t bite her and that she’s lying—”
“How does everyone know that?” I talk over her.
“Because I’ve told them. And they’re not having it, which is great! Tess is starting to get a taste of just how hated she’s going to be if she sticks to her lying guns. And…I’m sorry, but it’s a beautiful thing. Wanna see some of it?” Ree waves her phone in the air.
I shake my head. “I have to pretend it isn’t happening. I can’t go there. Both of you, I’m begging you…please don’t engage.” I hate the internet. I wish it had never been invented.
“But, Mum, people are defending Champ,” says Tobes. “It’d cheer you up.”
“No!” I don’t care how many of my children’s friends are telling Tess Gavey what a bitch she is. The more Champ’s name is mentioned, the more danger he’s in.
“Kids, leave Mum be, will you?” says Mark. “I think she’s had about as much as she can take for one day.”
“Nothing bad has actually happened to any of us.” Toby sounds bemused.
“He’s got a point, Dad,” says Ree. “I do feel like we’re all kind of…trapped in an irrational, menopausal panic attack, maybe?”
“I’m fine,” I say. Am I making too much of this?
I’m bound to be overreacting. A few teenagers bitching on the internet is neither here nor there.
“Let’s just watch the movie, shall we? I want to know whether any of them survive the flight to Vegas.
” In reality, I couldn’t give a toss. All I want is to be no longer the focus of my family’s attention.
I need to adjust to this new world I’m in, the one in which Champ’s guilt or innocence is being fought about online as if he’s O.
J. Simpson or something, and I can’t do that while people are watching me.
We’ll laugh about this one day. That’s what Mark often says to snap me out of a fuss I’m making about nothing.
Will I laugh, at some point in the future, at how horrified I was to discover Tess Gavey had typed the words “a neighbor’s Welsh terrier” into her Snapchat box or whatever you call it in the hope of persuading God knows how many people to hate and blame and fear Champ?
Only if I’m standing over her decomposing dead body at the time—that’s my honest answer.
No one who sees my smiley face as it trots around the village knows I’m capable of thinking anything as violent as that, and I want to keep it that way.
I certainly don’t want my family to know.
“Anyway, you can’t have it both ways, Tobes,” says Mark.
“Huh?”
“She must remind you of Vinie, or you wouldn’t have guessed it was Vinie she reminded Mum of.”
“Oh, have mercy.” Ree rolls her eyes. “Like, peace and love and I’m not being funny, but can this conversation end now, before it starts? I’m imagining how bored I’m going to be in about five minutes’ time—”
“I don’t see any resemblance,” Tobes says through a mouthful of crisps, without taking his eyes off the screen. “Mum might do but I don’t.”
“Then how come you thought of Vinie as soon as Mum challenged you to—”
“I don’t know, Dad. I could easily have said someone else.”
“But you didn’t,” says Mark. “Which proves you must see some similarity between her and Vinie. I don’t, personally, so I wouldn’t have been able to guess.”
“I just thought, ‘What might someone who was wrong think?’” says Tobes.
“Why did you land on Vinie specifically, though?”
“Mark, stop,” I say.
“Why? I want to get to the bottom of this.”
“Trust me, as someone who’s there already…” Ree sighs. “It’s not a desirable destination.”
“The girls can’t hack it.” Mark chuckles. “You could have named any of the other dark-haired women in the village,” he goads Toby. “Or even the blonds. Or the Farmer.”
“Oh, my God. I’m surrounded by insanity,” says Ree. “Me and Champy are the only sane ones here.”
“The Farmer would be…just a ridiculous level of wrong that no one would be capable of.” Tobes answers Mark easily. “I don’t know what your problem is, Dad. Haven’t you ever imagined what someone else might be thinking without thinking it yourself?”
“This is so great.” Ree rolls over onto her back. “I hope we get several more hours of it. I just can’t wait to see who wins.”
“Yeah, course,” Mark tells Tobes. “But this is different. We’re talking about resemblances. You can’t imagine a resemblance someone else might spot unless you’ve spotted it yourself. It’s impossible.”
“Well, actually, it’s not, because it’s literally what happened.” Toby yawns.
“Please, stop, all of you,” I say. “You’re disturbing Champ.” If they keep this up, I’m going to have to leave the room, and I don’t want to. It’s after midnight and I’m in my nightie. As long as I live, I’ll never understand anyone who argues for fun.
“Champ’s fast asleep, Sal,” says Mark.
“All right, Dad, let’s put this to the test,” Tobes says. “I’m going to find someone in this film who reminds me of someone, and then I’m going to ask you—”
“Right, that’s it,” Ree snaps. “Want to talk resemblances, Toby? Mum, let me tell you about Bonnie—”
“Noooooo, let’s not do that.” Tobes cuts her off.
“Then let’s not do ‘boring me to death’ either, little brother.” Ree gives him a pointed look.
“Who’s Bonnie?” I ask.
“No one. Forget it,” Toby says tersely. “Forget it, Dad. You’re right. I guess that scientist must have reminded me of Vinie Skinner.”
“Well, of course she did.” Mark lets out a satisfied sigh.
Again, I have that falling-into-a-bottomless-pit feeling. “Ree, who’s Bonnie?”
“She’s the scientist, Mum, okay? In the movie. Which I’m switching off now because we’re clearly not watching it anymore.”
Later, once everyone is asleep apart from me, I remember that the scientist in the movie was called Anya. Not Bonnie. And why would Toby have shut Ree down so fast if she was only talking about a character in a film?
I want to shake them both awake and demand, with all the parental authority I can muster, that they tell me whatever it is they’re keeping secret.
But they’re asleep and I’ve already dragged them halfway around the country, and I’m scared of knowing the truth.
If it was anything important, I’m sure they’d tell me.
Bonnie is probably a girl whose heart Toby has broken or is about to break. It can wait, whatever it is.
Still, I can’t sleep, so I stroke the fur on the back of Champ’s neck in the dark and solve the resemblances question all on my own and in silence: Clearly there are two tiers of resemblance spotting.
Tier 1 is where you notice it straight away or unprompted.
Tier 2 is where you don’t, but when asked, and once you know there’s a possible resemblance out there to be had, then it comes to you.
Easy.