It occurs to me that, since chapters 16 and 17 are about five pages long added together, it might be a lot more painless if I just combined them here.  That way, this travesty comes to an end a whole lot quicker.

Gary‘s life turned sour for the fourth time on April Fool’s Day.  I’m sorry to say that it wouldn’t be the last time, either.

Please note the date- we’ve skipped three months since the last chapter.  Anja and pals didn’t use those three months to try and bring down the villain, or to get in touch with their families about the not-being-dead thing.  Instead, they just sat around twiddling their thumbs.  Go them.

I was expecting Joe to play a whole load of April Fool’s tricks on everyone… 

Why?  It’s not as if he’s been in a very jovial mood for the last few chapters.  He’s had exactly one sentence of dialogue since his aunt died, and that was the one where you blew up at him for calling you “ginger.”  Which you are.  If I was him, I wouldn’t be in the mood for fun, either.

…but he remained in the same foul mood he’d been in all week.  It had all started on Monday, when Cherry had told us how serious things were getting between her and Vick.

“Hope you’re not planning on marrying him,” he’d grunted, “If he moves in here, you’ll need one hell of an excuse to explain me.” 

Yeah, there’s a thought.  Are Cherry and Anja planning to keep Joe in the attic for the rest of his life?  If so, you’d think they’d stop inviting his family over at every opportunity.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Joe,” Cherry had laughed, “I’ve only been seeing him for three months.  I’m not in that much of a hurry.  My biological clock ain’t exactly bothering me right now!  I’m only nineteen, remember.”

Cherry was beginning to see the problem I’d had with Joe since November.  Never mind slimy, he was acting like a bear with a sore head.   

GEEZ, I WONDER WHY.

He barely spoke to any of us, and when he did he kept it to a sarcastic remark. 

Like you can talk, Miss Glares-At-People-For-Five-Months-Instead-Of-Having-An-Actual-Conversation.

I was beginning to wonder why he even bothered living with us.

I’m beginning to wonder the same thing.  You’d think, after five months of barely-disguised contempt, he would have gone back to Mark and Estelle and thrown himself on their mercy.

When the day started turning from ordinary to malicious, Cherry had gone out on her date with Vick.  I was sitting back on the sofa that had been cream until Ben had got his hands on it, watching TV. 

No wonder Joe’s in a bad mood.  That’s his deceased aunt’s sofa you’re destroying, Cherry and Ben.

People had stopped nattering on about the terrible Anja Cleary tragedy…

Which you enjoyed, remember.
…so I felt safe to watch news reports again now.  But just because I was safe to watch it didn’t mean there was anything good on, so I was spending more time reading the newspaper over Gary’s shoulder. 

Not that he did much reading.  When his eyes landed on the front page, he practically jumped with shock. 

Then…  How can you have been reading over his shoulder?  I mean, he’d have looked at the front page first, right?  So he wouldn’t have actually read any of it?  Help me out here, Anja. (Also, his eyes landed on the front page?  Did they then roll under the sofa?)

The headline read, in white letters against a black background, All Three Of These Smiling Friends Are Dead.  The photograph next to it showed three teenagers in dorky school uniforms, smiling falsely at the camera.  All three looked as if they were willing the cameraman to hurry up so that they could start chatting again.   

I’m glad that Anja took time out from describing this tragic scene to tell us how dorky their school uniforms were.  Because that’s clearly the most important detail here.

The person on the left-hand side was (you’ve guessed it) Gary.  He was gripping the arm of the person in the middle, who looked suspiciously similar to the girl he’d drawn in his sketchpad.  Her eyes were lit up with annoyance, but apart from that I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had told me she was a model or a pop star or something, she was so pretty.  The third person was the girl from the memorial programme, Shell. 

Oh, good.  The giraffe in the padded bra.  I’ve missed her.

Gary looked as if someone had punched him in the ribs.  “See, Anja,” he gasped, “That’s what I meant when I said I ruined people’s lives.”  He handed me the paper.  “Read it out, then throw it away.  I don’t want to read it.” 

Normally, I’d roll my eyes at this point and talk about how unnecessarily wangsty Gary is being, but actually, he’s completely right.  Shell’s death is his fault.

I breathed in.  To say I was alarmed would be a major understatement. 

Brilliant prose, now-sixteen-year-old me.

“‘A principle witness in a murder trial has committed suicide, leaving a note saying ‘I can’t live with this fear.’  Michelle Glass, 18, witnessed the brutal murder of her schoolfriend Topaz Seaman last year.  Another witness, Gareth Wolf, was killed in the Anja Cleary disaster two months later.  Michelle’s suicide note suggests that the tragedy may not have been as accidental as previously thought.”  They’ve got that right.”

What they haven’t got right, of course, was the part where Gary didn’t actually die, and has in fact been living the high life in Wild Cherry House and not attempting in any way to get in touch with his doubly-bereaved best friend.  Silly newspapers.

Gary was doubled up with shock.  “Don’t stop,” he whispered.

“OK.  ‘In their statements, Gareth and Michelle claimed that Topaz Seaman, then 16, was killed by Gareth’s stepbrother.  She allegedly confronted Jordan Albright, now 20, over her friend Gareth’s years of abuse at his hands, at which Albright smashed her head repeatedly against the wall, shattering…’ Gary, are you sure you want me to read this?” I asked, noticing definite tears appearing in his eyes.  It was hardly surprising.  He hadn’t seen how Topaz had been killed, and presumably Shell had never been prepared to tell him.  And now she never would.

She never would because she’s dead.  And she’s dead because she killed herself.  And she killed herself because she believed her best friends were both dead.  And she believed her best friends were both dead because Gary never bothered to tell her he was alive.  And Gary never bothered to tell her he was alive because… er… the plot said so, I guess.  The point is, this is all on Gary.

“Please, just tell me.”

“‘Albright denies these charges, and claims that Topaz’s injuries occurred when she tripped over a bag on the floor.  Michelle Glass’ suicide means that there are no surviving eyewitnesses in his trial…

So Gary’s actions haven’t just caused the death of his supposed friend, but may also mean that a sadistic murderer ends up walking free!  Good job there, Gary!

…but her note, in which she claimed to be fearing for her life after Albright ‘had Gary [Wolf] killed,’ may be used as evidence for the prosecution. 

I’m not a lawyer, but I’m almost certain that wouldn’t stand up in court.  OK, it proves that Shell believed Jordan was a threat, but it doesn’t prove that she was right.  And that’s only if you manage to convince the jury that the note isn’t somehow forged.

Michelle’s mother, Gladys, was quoted as saying, ‘Jordan Albright has claimed his third victim- our beautiful, intelligent Shell.  She could never live properly after Topaz and poor Gary died- she thought it was only a matter of time before she was killed as well.’ 

“Gary could, of course, have got in touch and told her he was still alive at any point in the last six months, but that would have cut into his angsting-and-flirting-with-Anja time.”

The trial continues.’  Gary…” I didn’t get any further, because he collapsed sobbing onto my shoulder.

“See?” he sniffed, “She died because I was too selfish to get in touch with her!  And Topaz died because she tried to defend me!  I can’t believe I was so bloody stupid!” 

No arguments here.

“Listen…” I said as I hugged him, feeling useless, “I haven’t got in touch with any of my friends either.  It could just as easily have been Trixie who…”

Yes, but you’re not exactly a paragon of virtue either, are you, Anja?

“Yeah, but none of Trixie’s friends were supposed to be witnesses in a murder case!  Your death wouldn’t have looked like murder, so none of your friends would have worried about being next!  None of your friends knew that there was an evil bastard out to get you!”  He started trembling with fear at the memory.  “If you’re going to leave me, do it now, please.  I don’t want to have to watch you leave. I think it’s possible to be so miserable that you just die there and then, and that’s how I’d feel.” 

Brilliant.  No attempts to contact Shell’s family or the police, no attempts to atone for his gross, gross carelessness- just passive-aggressive wangsting about the possibility of Anja dumping him.  You know what?  I’m glad that awful things happen to Gary in  the last few chapters.

(Oh yeah- SPOILERS.  But the first sentence of this chapter kind of gave it away, didn’t it?)

“Gary!” I squealed, alarmed at how depressed he was.  He hadn’t been this miserable since I’d met him, which for Gary was really saying something.  As I hugged him, I felt like I was containing a massive storm in my skinny arms.  “I’m never going to leave you, ever.  And what’s more, nobody’s going to hurt you again as long as you stay close to me, babes.”

“Babes.”  Feckin’ “babes.”

He looked up at me imploringly, as if I was about to save his life.  “Thank you.  I feel like you’re my guardian angel sometimes, you know.” 

You’re my guardian angel…  Whaaat do you saaay?…

Oh, come on.  ‘What Does The Fox Say?’ is a whole lot less annoying than a scene featuring Gary and Anja.

He started to look angry.  “But you know what, Anja? I’m being selfish to you, which is typical of me. 

YES.

You shouldn’t have to comfort me all the time. 

THIS IS ALSO TRUE.

You only just turned sixteen, and your biggest worry should be how you’re going to get rid of the spots on your forehead!  You shouldn’t have to worry about being someone’s girlfriend, psychiatrist, agony aunt and surrogate mum rolled into one! 

…OK, I’ve been talking a lot about the Oedipal overtones, but I love the fact that Gary outright acknowledges them here.  Neither he nor Anja does anything about it, but at least they’re not under any illusions.

I’m causing you a whole lot of pain, Anja, and don’t deny it because I can tell that I’m hurting you! 

Shell has now been completely forgotten.  Gary’s world revolves around Anja once again, as it always should.

Like I said, it’s typical.  All I’ve ever wanted in my life is for someone to love me, and whenever someone does I wreck their lives!”

“For heaven’s sake, do you ever stop whinging?”

Hee!  Best line in the whole book.

I recognized this voice as Joe’s.  Rather than being concerned about Gary like he’d been in the first week at Mark and Estelle’s, he was staring at him as if Gary had done something extremely annoying. 

I think Shell’s parents would use a stronger word than “annoying.”

“If Anja says she’ll love you forever, she means it, alright?” he snapped, “If she says that you’re not wrecking her life- as she’s done about a hundred bleeding times- she means it!  So can you please stop feeling guilty about everything!  It’s doing my head in!”

By now, sixteen-year-old-me had been writing this story for about eight months, and was getting completely sick of the characters.  I stuck to my original plans for the story, but I didn’t enjoy it much.  So at this point in the story, Joe is speaking for me.

(Oh, and I love the fact that Joe thinks Gary’s problem is “feeling guilty about everything.”  Rather than “being a passive-aggressive little herbert.”)

I was giving Joe daggers. 

“He used those daggers to slaughter me and Gary, thus freeing the world from our wicked influence.”

He couldn’t see that Jordan had sucked Gary dry.  In the space of a few years, he’d taken his few friends, his self-esteem, and worst of all, his will to live.  It was only through extremely good luck that Gary was getting any of this back.  But Joe was giving him a look that people usually only reserve for kids who are overreacting.

Worse still, Gary was acting like this was a perfectly reasonable reaction.  “Sorry, Joe,” he sniffed, “It’s just that someone I knew had died, and that sort of brought it all back.  I just don’t want to hurt Anja like that.” 

Once again, he’s utterly forgotten about Shell.  Whose death was COMPLETELY HIS FAULT, in case you needed reminding.

“Gary,” Joe said through gritted teeth, “Read my lips; you won’t.  Anja can look after herself.”  He grinned.  “I think she proved that around the time she kicked Mr. Daly’s butt.”

Angry with Joe for bringing that up on top of everything else, I said the first thing that came into my head.  “Joe?” I asked, my tone cold with rage, “Who’s Violet?” 

FINALLY.

This is the point where Chapter Sixteen ends, having achieved nothing but making our main characters all the more loathsome.  Onto the next one.

“Violet,” Joe groaned sarcastically, “Now I wonder who told you about her.”  He looked as though he thought that this was yet another thing to annoy him.  “And I suppose Dad told you I killed her.” 

Actually… No, he didn’t.  He said that you did something “unforgivable,” but that could mean anything.  You wouldn’t last five minutes in a police interrogation, matey.

I had only ever been more furious once in my life, and that was with Mr. Daly.  “You said,” I hissed slowly, “that you didn’t know why your dad never liked you.”

He shot me that slimy grin again, as if I’d just walked into a trap.  “And I didn’t.  The whole reason he blamed me for what happened to Vi was because he couldn’t stand me.  It was like that ever since I was born.  It just got worse after Vi died.”

“So,” I said in a voice that could freeze the Sahara Desert, “How did she die?” 

I love how Joe isn’t reacting at all to Anja’s slow hissing and freezing deserts.  You might almost think that Anja’s fury was completely ineffectual!

“Well,” he replied, sitting down, “it was a while after Leah was born.  Mum decided we needed a break in order to ‘bond with her,’ so we went off to Cornwall for the summer.  Emily’s family went as well.   

“But don’t worry, they’re not important to this story at all.”

Jack and I were eleven and Vi was eight.  Vi had always been our dad’s favourite until Leah put on an appearance, I think the worm was beginning to turn around then.  But Dad was still keen for Vi to stay inside and read with Emily and her older sister rather than watch telly or mess about on the beach with us rowdy boys.  That went against all Vi’s instincts- she was probably in the running for the queen of tomboys- and she kept sneaking out with us.”  Joe sighed.  “So one day, when Mum and Dad had taken Leah and Robbie to this historical site… 

Who takes a baby and a toddler to a historical site, and leaves behind the older kids who might actually understand what’s going on?

…Vi managed to slip out of Emily’s clutches and run off with us again.  Emily’s parents didn’t really mind- they thought it was good for us to get exercise. 

Note how neither Emily’s parents nor her sister get names.  Even though they’re apparently old family friends.

So Jack, Vi, Vick and me were looking for interesting things on this beach- I think an ice-cream stall was top of our list- when Vi suggested we go swimming.  Vick said ‘We can’t, the red flags are up.  That means the water’s too dangerous.’   But Vi said she didn’t care, and she was going swimming regardless.  So then, one of us- I can’t remember which one it really was, but Dad always assumed it was me- said ‘Bet you won’t,’ and she replied, ‘Bet I will,’ and it basically turned into a big argument, and we all ended up daring her to go to the end of the pier and dive in.” 

Wait, why would you dare somebody to do something they were going to do anyway?

I guessed the end of the story.  “And she drowned?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Joe replied, “I mean, we all thought it would be alright, because Vi was the best swimmer we knew.  And for the first five minutes or so, she was fine.  When she stood up to try to get out, though, the trouble started.  Someone must have thrown a broken bottle in or something, because she cut her foot and sunk.  Vick tried to get in and save her, but when he got to the bottom her other foot was caught in something, and before he could free it he had to come up for air, so a lifeguard spotted him.  They got Vick out in time, but not Vi.  I think Dad felt guilty because he wasn’t there, so he had to pick out a scapegoat.  I was the one he didn’t like, so guess what?”  The sullen anger had returned to Joe’s face.  “Mum stopped him from telling me I’d killed her after it happened, but he kept throwing it in my face from then on.  His favourite had died, and it was the black sheep’s fault, that’s what he’d decided.  I seriously think if it hadn’t been for my mum, he would have thrown me out and not let any of the others speak to me again.  And bear in mind I was only eleven.  The fact is, that man is too weak to admit his own guilt, so he had to blame the whole thing on a kid who’d made a mistake.”  He looked up, still furious.  “So there you have it.  That’s what happened to Vi.” 

Hmm.  OK.  That provides a reasonable explanation for James’ hatred, without making Joe unlikable as a character.  After all, eleven-year-old boys do stupid things sometimes, and only somebody driven mad by grief would try and infer some sort of malice there.  Hopefully now that she knows the facts, Anja and Joe can make up.

I don’t know why I didn’t believe him.  Maybe hating him had been a habit for so long that I couldn’t break it now. 

GAH.  You’re what’s wrong with humanity, Anja.

But the fact is that I might have said something that I’d have regretted if Cherry hadn’t come home then.

“Hi, y’all,” she muttered from the hallway, “Tell you what, Joe, you’d have liked it at our date today.  That Vick is obsessed with you.  Last time I go for a drink with him, that’s for sure…” She came in and saw our faces- mine defiant, Joe’s angry and Gary’s distraught.  Cherry folded her arms.  “Who died?”

“Well, recently, a friend of Gary’s.  Not so recently, my sister Vi.”  Joe grimaced.  “That’s what we were talking about.”

Cherry frowned.  “I’m sorry, Gary,” she said, “And I can tell exactly how sympathetic Joe’s been.”  She glared at Joe for a minute, then lost her train of thought. 

…Cherry, he just told you they’d been talking about his dead sister.  OK, the readers know that he wasn’t sympathetic towards Gary, but how would Cherry work that out from what he said?  If anything, she’d assume that he’d been commiserating with Gary over their shared losses.

“Speaking of Violet, that was one of the topics of romantic conversation Vick termed suitable for our date.  Such a seductive fella, your Vick.  I can see where all the tact went in your family.”  She smiled, then saw that her semi-compliment was having no effect on Joe whatsoever.  “I mean, does he seriously think that constantly going on about how his dead brother killed his equally dead sister is going to endear him to me?   

So, wait, if Cherry wasn’t shocked by this, does that mean she already knew how Violet died?  So she could have told Anja at any point?  So this whole plotline could have been avoided?

I suppose I should just be grateful it wasn’t his mum, else I’d have been expecting to get stabbed next time I took a shower.”  She grinned.

Huh.  A cultural reference that isn’t just there for the sake of being there.  Sixteen-year-old me is learning!

“My entire family obsesses about Vi,” Joe replied morosely, not getting the joke, “Well, except Jack.  Even Leah’s really curious about her.”

(It wasn’t just curiosity on Leah’s part, I found out later.  Leah suspected that her parents wanted to remake her in Vi’s image, so she was rebelling.  Leah found out everything she could about Vi and tried to be exactly the opposite.  The result was that Leah was turning out to be an incredibly quiet girl who spent most of her time reading and got good marks in school.  Strangely enough, I don’t think that her rebellion was backfiring- while Melissa was understandably relieved to have such a well-behaved daughter after four loud and annoying sons, James was still hoping that one day Leah would be more like Vi.)

“Why not Jack?” Gary asked.

“To be honest, I have no idea.   

SPOILERS- It was for exactly the reason you might think.

I think he was just so freaked out about what happened that he avoids reminding himself of it.   

SPOILERS- Exactly the reason you might think.

Though why he thinks marrying Emily will help him forget, I have no idea.  She’s fascinated with anything bad that’s happened to anyone else, the stupid tart. 

“Also, she tells people that their mothers love their nonexistent sisters better than them.  She should be burned at the stake.”

She never shut up even when we were kids.”  He sneered out of the window.  “It’s just typical of Jack to marry someone our parents love so very much.   He’s such a complete toady, it just makes you want to throw up.”

I rolled my eyes.  “So, to recap, you hate everyone.  Got it.”  

LIKE YOU CAN TALK.

“Well, I have to,” Joe snarled, “‘Cause it looks like everyone hates me, don’t they?”

Nothing got any better over the next few weeks, either.  Joe was rarely seen outside of his room, and when he was I felt like telling him to go right back in there and never come out.  Cherry and I never even tried to talk to him…

Oh, that makes a change.

…and Gary’s one conversation with him was pretty messy.  I only caught the end of it from outside of the kitchen, but whatever it was about, Joe was very unreasonable.

“…He could turn up any minute, Joe, and I know she’ll stick by me and everything, but I still won’t last five minutes.  It’s not clear how much time we have, so I want to make the most of things while I’m still…  So what do you think?” 

“Whatever it was about.”  Who do you think it’s about, Anja?

“I think you two lovebirds should stop rubbing it in that I haven’t got a girlfriend, that’s what I think.” 

Joe is now thirteen years old.  Good to know.

And with that, Joe stormed back up into his hideout.  Even Ben was starting to complain that Joe was no fun anymore.

Speaking of Gary, by the way, that conversation spoke volumes about his mentality around then.  The “she” in the conversation was me, as you’ve probably guessed, but the “he,” I can tell you now, was Jordan.   

…So you did know who it was about?  Then why…  Oh, never mind.

Gary was terrified that the complications in his trial would mean that Jordan would be released on bail, or even escape. 

Those complications are your fault, Gary.  No point complaining about them now.

I’d told him that, in the unlikely event of Jordan seeing daylight at any point in the next twenty years, he still thought we were dead and would therefore come nowhere near us.  That did no good whatsoever.  Gary started to worry that James Foster would bail Jordan out and lead him to us.

“James might have worked out that we’re all alive, so he’s looking through the lists of people that want one or more of us dead.  Who’s he going to find?” Gary had whimpered. 

SPOILERS- This doesn’t happen.  Once again, that would be far too interesting.  It would also require James to be an actual threat.

“Calm down, OK?  Number one, nobody can bail him out now, especially after all this business with Shell, number two, James Foster is hardly…”

“He could help him escape, though.  I mean, prison can’t be that hard to escape from, can it?  People do it all the time in films, so it’s probably possible for a really cunning and smart person to do it in real life.  And Jordan is cunning and smart, so if he has someone on the outside to help him then…” Gary’s face looked like it was about to crumple with terror.  If people are really scared, they can believe anything.

When the phone rang one day, Gary was in such a tense state that he nearly jumped five metres into the air.  I think Mark would have been insulted that Gary found his phone call so terrifying, especially when you consider that Mark was over the moon to be calling us. 

Once again, no idea where to put the comic relief.

“Hi, Anj,” Mark squeaked with exhilaration.

“Hi, Mark.  What incredibly great thing do you want to tell me about?”

“Well, put it this way- it’s a girl!”  Mark paused for long enough for me to congratulate him, then carried on.  “Anja, this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened!  I can’t believe I’m a dad!  I mean, she’s so beautiful you wouldn’t guess I had anything to do with her genes, except…”

“So what are you going to call her?” I squeaked back.

Mark’s voice sounded slightly gloomier when he replied, though anything would have sounded more gloomy than his original tone.  “Well, we thought we’d call her Eugenia.  Jean for short.  You know, since I wouldn’t have even met Estelle if it hadn’t been for Jean.”  I could practically hear him start to grin over the phone.  “Oh, and we thought we’d make her middle name Svetlana.  You know, to get on Cherry’s nerves.”

That’s a great way to pick your child’s name!  Annoying your friends and relatives!  To this end, my first son is going to be called Southend United Suck.  His middle name will be Eric.

I started laughing, and wondered if the birth of Eugenia Svetlana Freeman (poor kid) would hail the start of a new era for me.   

“For me.”  “For me.”

Maybe, now that there was a new life involved (loosely) in this, everything would work out alright after all.

It didn’t.

Nor did you deserve it to.

Just three chapters and an epilogue to go!  Join us again for Chapter Eighteen, in which Melissa doesn’t strangle Anja, even though no jury in the world would convict her.

(Note- the last bit should have been Part Fourteen, but I screwed up the labels. Sorry about that.)

Here we are on Chapter Fifteen (or, to put it another way, “only five more to go after this one.”)  Remember how I mentioned Anja’s psychic powers before?  Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet!

“Auntie Annie?” Ben asked.  We were in the kitchen, cooking dinner.  Well, I say “we”- I was cooking, he was clamouring for me to let him lick the spoon.  I didn’t want to see the look on his face when he realised I was making chilli con carne.

Oh, Ben.  You and your self-destructive ways.

(Do people really eat chilli con carne on New Years’ Eve?  It seems like more of a summer food.)

“Yes, Ben?”

“Think you and Gary should get married.”  Ben had clearly been thinking this through for quite a while.

SPOILERS- Just because a two-year-old tells you to do something doesn’t mean that you have to do it, Anja.  Honestly…

“Really, Ben?” I replied, “And why do you think that?”

His reply was probably not the best thing to say considering the way I was feeling.  “‘Cause then,” he replied, “my mummy could marry Joe.  Joe’s cool.”

“Hmm,” I replied.  I wasn’t going to tell Ben that Joe just might have had a hand in a girl’s death.   

Because he’s two.  And because you’d be talking bollocks anyway.

Cherry had tried to calm me down earlier, snapping, “Anja, James said it!  You know, James Foster?  Tried to kill Mark and Joe a few months ago?  Tried to kill you not long afterwards? 

Cherry takes her turn as the only sane character.  But despite absolutely everyone pointing out what a bonehead she’s being, and despite not being able to come up with any counter-arguments, Anja still persists in believing that Joe is pure evil.  Because we need a cheap source of tension, you see.

He’s an attempted murderer himself, got that?

“Attempted”?  Does Jean not count?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t you be taking everything he says with a pinch of salt?”

You are not wrong, Cherry.  Frankly, in your shoes, I’d be phoning up my aunt and uncle, telling them that Anja was still alive, and letting her take her chances with them.  But then, that’s really what you should have done in the first place.

I knew Cherry was right, but I still couldn’t shake off my suspicions about Joe.  Somehow, he was just a little bit too creepy.  When Joe and Gary had first met, Joe had been all protective urges, but now they barely even spoke.  Gary put it down to nerves and unrequited love, but I wasn’t that trusting.  Or, as I sometimes cruelly thought, that stupid.  The fact is, being that nice often requires you to be a bit dim. 

There you have it.  Anja thinks that being nice makes you stupid.  This explains quite a lot about her.

Ha.  There was one thing cheering me up.  It was New Year’s Eve that night, but Joe wouldn’t be celebrating with the rest of us.

“Aw, yeah!  The best part of this super-fun, worldwide celebration is the part where we’ll be purposely excluding the person who’s just lost his beloved aunt!  Break out the champagne!”

Most of the Foster family had decided to make themselves regular features of our lives, and that included “seeing in the New Year” at Wild Cherry House.  Quite apart from getting rid of Joe for the entire night (he’d be hiding in the attic somewhere, probably)…

How festive.  Will he be singing a wistful “I Want” song with his gargoyle pals?

…we might be able to find out something else about Violet.

OR YOU COULD ASK HIM.  WHICH YOU WERE TOLD TO DO THREE MONTHS AGO, AND HAVEN’T BOTHERED ABOUT.

We then get several paragraphs about some characters who will not be appearing in the story, and, in fact, has nothing to do with anything:

“You know, Ben’s got a point.”  Cherry had come into the room, smiling.  “Joe would be a big improvement on any of my previous boyfriends, for a start.  Mind you, anyone would be an improvement on some of them, wouldn’t they, Anja?”

I knew what she was talking about, because I’d heard my parents talking about it at the time.  When Cherry had found out she was pregnant, Ben’s grandparents hadn’t taken it well.  I don’t mean Cherry’s parents, who were over the moon (although her mum, my Aunt Irene, complained that she was far too young to be a granny), but her ex-boyfriend’s parents.   They couldn’t believe that their little angel had even spoken to someone as “not our sort” as Cherry, let alone have a kid with her.  She only managed to persuade her ex-boyfriend to pay child support when she threatened to take him to court. 

“You should have seen the look on his mum’s face,” Cherry laughed, commenting on the story I already knew, “You’d think she’d just sat on a porcupine!  Probably shocked that I’d dare to question my betters,” she reasoned with a mock-horrified expression, “To think!  A lowly commoner like me being so impertinent to folk so refined that they fainted if anyone called the sofa a settee…” She broke off, sniggering.

“Did she want to keep it hushed up, do you think?”

“Probably,” Cherry shrugged, “But I think my ex just wanted to get the whole thing over with without any fuss.”  She looked out of the window for a second, then turned back, smiling.  “Anyway, what are we talking about that prat for?   

My thoughts exactly.

The Fosters are going to be here in a minute.  Help me get the table ready.”

James couldn’t make it.  Something to do with work.  Melissa had apologised profusely for this, but Cherry and me could hardly have been more relieved.  We hadn’t forgotten that James had killed his aunt.   

Oh yes you had.  See above.

He probably knew that we’d worked out what he’d been up to.  But he also knew that, so far, we hadn’t spoken to anyone else about it…

…for some reason.  Seriously, there is no reason on Earth for them not to go to the police.

…so chances were he was off the hook.

Why would he come to that conclusion?  You came to Southend with the express purpose of bringing him to justice.  Yes, the reader knows you’re not a threat, because you get distracted every time you see something shiny, but James doesn’t know that!  For all he knows, you’re just making him sweat for a few weeks before you start to blackmail him!  Now would, in fact, be the optimum time for him to kill you!

Anja is quite possibly the worst detective ever.  The fact that she’s still alive at the end of this book is actually kind of painful.

He was never going to get his hands on the money or Estelle in any case, and he probably still thought Joe was dead.  He had no reason whatsoever to strike again. 

Except for the fact that you know what he’s up to.  Or desire for revenge against Cherry for taking his inheritance.  Actually, it would be more accurate to say, “He had no reason whatsoever not to strike again.”

But it was still a relief to know that he wouldn’t be turning up.

Yes.  It’s still a relief to know that the known murderer won’t be there to spoil your New Year’s party.

About 50 metres away, the doorbell rang.  A few seconds later, I heard the door open, and the various noises associated with the Foster family echoed down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Happy New Year…  Err, it’s Gareth, isn’t it?”  Melissa’s uncertain tones brought a massive smile to Ben’s face.  “Auntie Melissa’s here, Auntie Annie!  She’s here!” he whispered.  He hadn’t been this excited to see me.

NEITHER SHOULD HE HAVE BEEN.

Anyway, there’s several paragraphs of boring dialogue in which Melissa apologises for not being certain of Gary’s name and her children tease her for it, and then Leah comes in to see Ben.

Leah, with the speed of a cheetah or something, had rushed from the front door to the kitchen in five seconds.  When I saw her, she was trying in vain to pick Ben up.

“Leah’s a wuss!  Leah’s a wuss!”  I turned round to see Robbie, dressed in what must have been a very smart outfit before he went within a hundred miles of it.  He looked up at me with an evil grin on his face. Evil grins definitely ran in the family, I decided.   

Great.  Now she’ll develop an irrational grudge against Robbie, too.

“Ben’s just a baby and she can’t pick him up!” he told me, “She’s such a wuss!”

“Am not a baby!” Ben snapped, wriggling out of Leah’s grip and squashing her in the process, “Am nearly three!”

“I can pick Ben up, Cherry,” Leah argued, “He was just being wriggly just then.”

“I know you can pick him up, Leah…”

“Welcome to the Foster family experience,” someone groaned in my ear.  It turned out to be Jack.  By the look on his face, he was ready to leave at the slightest excuse.  I knew how he felt. 

I know, right?  Children trying to pick each other up.  It’s probably that that drove their father to murder, y’know.

“They’re not that bad,” I lied.  At that precise moment, Robbie had discovered the jelly and was making sure everyone got some.  Around the face area. 

So Robbie’s gone to somebody else’s house, found the food, and started painting the walls with it?  And Anja and Jack are just going to carry on whispering to each other instead of trying to get him to stop?  Righto.

“OK,” I admitted, “Robbie has a few bratty tendencies, but he’s not a patch on my little broth…  cousin.” 

“I don’t mean just Robbie.”  Jack looked around to check that his mother wasn’t watching (she wasn’t.  She was trying to get within a metre of Robbie without getting covered in jelly), then whispered back to me.  “Just be glad my dad isn’t here.  He’s always been one to make an idiot of himself in front of other people. Ask your sister.” 

“Like, at my tenth birthday party, he murdered all my friends’ parents!  It was really embarrassing!”

I saw by the angry expression on Jack’s face that he would have said a lot more than that if he hadn’t thought that Melissa might overhear him.  I guessed, though, that he didn’t know that Joe’s accident wasn’t. 

But he didn’t get to say that, because a loud voice pierced the airwaves.

“Hey, Honour!” darling little Robbie yelled, “Vick and Jack said that our dad fancied you!”

What I thought at that moment is probably unprintable, especially the bit about the elephants.  So I will settle for saying that I wasn’t happy. 

Heh heh, elephants.  Oh, and a known serial killer has developed an unhealthy fixation on an underage girl, but that’s incidental.

(From this point on, James will completely forget that he’s attempted murder to win the heart of Estelle, and transfer his affections to Anja instead.  This is actually probably quite realistic, since serial killers aren’t the most logical or stable of people, but it would have helped if there was some sort of explanation.)

“I don’t know whether James fancies you or not,” Gary whispered at dinner, “but there’s definitely something between Vick and Cherry.  Check out the way he keeps looking at her.”

“A bit like the way she keeps looking at you, you mean?” I teased.  It was true, though, that Cherry definitely looked a lot happier when staring in Gary’s direction than in Vick’s.  Despite the freezing December weather, someone had thought it was a good idea to eat al fresco.  

“Someone” being the author.

We were currently sitting at a table in the light of a few lamps, cocooned in coats and jumpers.  Leah and Ben had shot off halfway through to go and see Sammy, completely ignoring Cherry and Melissa’s assertions of, “There’s starving children in Africa who would be delighted to have a meal like this.”

Hey, look at their role models.  Anja doesn’t even care about her own grieving parents, so why should Leah and Ben care about starving children?

“I don’t wish to alarm you,” Melissa was saying, having realized that getting her daughter to finish eating was a lost cause, “but the press seem to have got it into their heads that Joe and Mark and those other poor souls were murdered!  I was reading the paper earlier this week, and someone had sent in a letter saying that the police should start a manhunt for whoever…  Oh, how did they put it?  They said that someone ‘stole their lives’ or something.  The police always told us they thought it was an accident!”

I was seriously impressed.  For once, the papers had actually worked out something obvious for themselves! 

Oh, like you can talk, Miss “Why does James want his daughter to turn out like his mistress”?

“How ridiculous is that?” Jack snorted, “I mean, who’d want to murder Mark and Joe?”

At that point, something very, very strange happened to Melissa’s face.  It was as if I could actually see the thought process in her brain.

Or as if the author had suddenly realised the hole she’d dug herself into by writing this story in first person.

Since she’s recently told me a lot about how she felt, in order to help me with this book, I can give you a small insight into what she was thinking.

Oh, don’t be so modest, Anja.  We know all about those psychic powers of yours!

The last time she’d heard Mark and Joe’s names mentioned in association with death (or at least horrible injury) was while she was helping Estelle plan for her wedding.  She couldn’t help her eyes creep over to the statue involved, on which her daughter was playing with Ben.  Someone had looked both angry and guilty when Cherry Hughes had moved the snail back onto the ledge.  Someone whose name was James…

 If she noticed he looked angry and guilty at the time, wouldn’t she have worried about it then?  Or is she used to people getting annoyed at their friends for saving other people’s lives?

“Uh, Cherry?” Vick asked, sounding as if he was about to throw up (or worse) with terror, “Sorry to change the subject, but can I talk to you for a moment?”

I could see Melissa come to the inevitable conclusion.  Her eyes were huge with shock.

“Sure, Vick.  What’s on your mind?”

And if it’s true, Melissa thought, So many things would make sense.  The freak accident, the fact that he still can’t forgive Joe, the fact that…  Oh my God!  Jean!

“Well,” Vick stuttered, “I know I don’t have much of a chance, but would you have a drink with me on Friday?  Only I know this place, it sells really brilliant…”

“Sounds great.  I could use a night out.  Honour?  Could you and Gary baby-sit?”

I love how the woman realising that her husband murdered two members of their family is juxtaposed with two really boring teenagers arranging a date.  It’s basically this story in a nutshell.

As the conversation went on around her, Melissa realized that her suspicions, if confirmed, would spell the end of her marriage, and possibly even the end of more lives.  Despite not being completely sure of what was going on, she decided to “forget” to mention something to Cherry, Gary and me.

It had seemed like such a friendly idea, including us in her family holiday.  After all, Cherry was practically one of the family herself, especially since she and Joe had been so close.  And her little boy, such a lovely child.  And Melissa was sure that Cherry’s sister and that shy boyfriend of hers would open up like a dream given a nice beach.  But suddenly, the holiday didn’t seem like such a good plan.

The part of Spain the Fosters were going to was a nice place, but it had a lot of scope for “freak accidents.”  Hazardous roads in the mountains, steep cliffs jutting out into the tropical sea, forests where people might get lost for weeks on end…

Again, that sounds like a much more interesting story than the one we’re reading.

I love how Anja and pals avoid being taken to Spain and murdered because Melissa doesn’t ask them.  Not because of their own quick wits or bravery or anything.  They’re pretty dependent on the kindness of strangers, this lot.

Melissa didn’t want to believe that her husband had looked at us with those thoughts in mind.  But she remembered another holiday that had gone disastrously wrong, she remembered how angry James had looked when Cherry had inherited Jean’s house and money, and she remembered what had happened to the other person who had stood by Joe.  By keeping quiet, chances are she saved our lives.

 “Because if James and Melissa had asked us to come to Spain with them, we’d probably have been stupid enough to say yes!”

By the way, this is James’ last sinister plot until the climax.  He basically spends six months sitting around and twiddling his thumbs.  Our scary, scary villain, ladies and gentlemen.

Join us again for chapter sixteen, in which Gary suffers.  Again.

I’ve got to admit, this has become a bit of a hard slog for me.  Coming back every week to analyse my youthful pretensions in great detail…  It takes a lot out of me.  But I’ll soldier on, because there’s only six chapters after this one, and after that I’m free.  Free, I say.

Oddly enough, this is around the point where fifteen-year-old me started getting fed up of this story, too.  It took me three or four months to write the first thirteen chapters, but a whole year to write the last seven.  I can’t remember exactly why- I think I just got fed up of fannying around with no plot in sight.  So I started writing a story in which most of the world’s population suddenly disintegrated instead, which was much more fun.

This chapter is called “Shrinking Violet.”  That’s probably not the worst pun in this story, but it comes close.

I could hear the cries of “Mummy!  Santa’s been!” from Cherry’s room.  Apparently Ben had decided it was time for us to wake up.

Cute Ben moment number 167.

Gary was still asleep, as usual.  As I looked at him, I wondered how a person could get away with looking as gorgeous as he did. 

He doesn’t get away with it.  He pays for it in sheer woobiedom, as well you know.

If you ignored his daft haircut and the worried look he always seemed to have, you noticed.  The first things I noticed were that his eyes were the size of saucers and bluer than any ocean I’d ever seen (mind you, since I live in Britain that isn’t much of an achievement), and aside from a few faded scars I wasn’t allowed to ask about, his skin was just, well, pink. 

“On closer inspection, Gary was made entirely out of candyfloss.  He was delicious.”

You might think that’s normal, but there aren’t many people in the world whose skin is pink (or brown for that matter) all over.  I know mine is covered by moles, pressure marks, spots, and the BCG scar that just won’t go away.  But Gary was lucky as far as his looks went.  Well, he had to be lucky somewhere. 

Shut up, Anja.  Remember what Gary said.  You’re not allowed to feel sorry for him.  Even now, years later, after so much has happened, I’m still not allowed.

Fifteen-year-old me was protesting a bit too much with this whole “Anja isn’t allowed to feel sorry for Gary” thing.  I think I realised that I hadn’t really written Gary to inspire any emotion but pity.  And, while fifteen-year-old me most definitely thought that pity was enough to sustain a relationship, I decided it was probably best not to be too blatant about it.

I stuck my hand on his shoulder.  “Hey, Gary,” I whispered, “Ben the Destroyer reckons it’s time to get up.”

Gary looked up at me with a lazy smile.  “We’d better do what he says.  It sounds like Cherry’s suffering enough already.”

He was right.  Cherry had clearly refused to move from her bed, and in response Ben was jumping on it.  Such is the desperation of a two-year-old boy to get down to some serious present opening.   

Cute Ben Moment number 1020.

Joe was the last to get up.  I couldn’t believe his nerve when he gave me a creepy grin, which I was almost certain was directed at my chest.  It probably was, now I come to think of it.  Even though I was wearing a turtleneck jumper.  That probably shows something about his character, but I can’t think what right now.

Oh, come on.  You were coming up with creative insults for Joe all last chapter- no need to be shy now.

“Merry Christmas, Ginger,” he sniggered.  My dye job was beginning to look slightly less glaring red by now, admittedly, but I still wasn’t having any of it.

“Name’s Anja, Joe,” I mumbled, “Having to call myself Honour half the time is bad enough without you adding ‘Ginger’ to the mix.”

Joe seemed to take this as a joke.  Well, he might have.  It was hard to tell with someone who spent a lot of time making fun of everyone.   

…When was the last time we saw Joe making fun of anyone who wasn’t Mr Daly?

In any case, he didn’t seem to acknowledge my wariness around him.

This is how Anja confronts all her enemies.  By thinking evil thoughts at them until they can take no more.  It’s not very effective.
By the time we got downstairs, the living room already looked like a bombsite.  In the dim, colourful light of the Christmas lights, Ben was enthusiastically ripping the paper off all the presents under the tree.  Apparently he’d never heard of labels, especially since he looked so shocked when Cherry told him that maybe, just maybe, not all of the 50 to 100 presents under the tree were for him.   

Cute Ben Moment number 1,000,003.

Viewing the carnage, I suggested that everyone opened three of their own presents (not half of Joe’s like Ben had done) before having breakfast.

When we eventually managed to eat something (Ben was very choosy about which gifts he opened), poor old Cherry only managed to take a bite or two out of her toast before the doorbell rang.

“Who do you think that is?” I asked.  In my family, the tradition was to deny the existence of the outside world on 25^th December. 

Well, in this story, your tradition has been to deny the existence of your family and any grief and suffering they may have experienced due to your actions.  So I don’t think you get to complain about somebody disrupting your Christmas.
Cherry shook her head in confusion, and opened the door to a nervous dark-haired boy who seemed creepily familiar.

“Um… Hi, Cherry,” he said in a strangled way.  Apparently, Joe wasn’t the only one who had feelings for my cousin. 

“Hi, Vick.  What’s up?”

Vick…  Where had I heard that name before?   

Well, there are fewer than twenty named characters in this thing, so it shouldn’t take you too long to guess

Before my memory could answer, this Vick person was talking again.  “Well, we’re going out to this restaurant at around seven tonight, and my dad said it would be good if you and Ben could come.  He also said to bring your sister and her boyfriend, too.”  He smiled awkwardly.  “It could be fun.  I haven’t met your sister before, see, and neither has Robbie.  So, can you come?” 

Gosh, they’re going to the This Restaurant!  The most exclusive place in town!

Cherry looked worried for a moment, but she managed to hide it with a jokey reply.  “Well, there was this Christmas special I wanted to watch on telly, but I guess I could tape it.  OK, V, pick us up at seven.”

By the time Vick closed the door, I’d worked out who he was… 

…two or three paragraphs after the readers did.

…and why it was a very, very good thing that he couldn’t see Joe in the kitchen. 

These people fail at being in hiding, don’t they?

“Hey, Joe,” Cherry shouted, “Your brother just came round.  I said we’d go out with him and your parents at seven.  Is that OK?” 

At seven-thirty, I was sitting at a restaurant table with Gary, Cherry, Ben, James Foster, Melissa Foster, Jack, Robbie, Vick and Leah Foster, and, surprisingly enough, Ditsy Emily from Blaze.  I’d known her for nearly two months and she’d never mentioned that she was Jack’s fiancée.

Maybe she mentioned it but you didn’t listen.  After all, you’ve managed to memorise exactly two of your co-workers’ names- you don’t seem like the sort of person who’d take an interest in their love lives.

“I proposed to her in September,” Jack was explaining, “But we’ve known each other for ages.  She got the job in Blaze so I could see her more, didn’t you, honey?” 

This is how people in a long-term relationship talk.

As he looked at Emily, my heart jolted.  Jack’s smile had turned into a smirk that reminded me that he and Joe were identical twins.  For a minute, I thought that Joe had turned up to surprise us.  That would quite possibly have ruined the whole night. 

“Yeah!  We’re having a lovely time, eating dinner with a murderer.  We don’t want Joe to turn up and ruin it!”

“It’s such a shame,” Melissa trilled…

 How do you “trill” the words, “It’s such a shame”?  Is Melissa a budgie?

…”I thought your wedding would be the thing that brought the family back together, but there’s so many people whose seats are going to be empty.  Joe’s, Jean’s, Vi’s…”

That got my attention.  First I was just vaguely wondering who Vi was, then I remembered about Violet…  Maybe Vi was Melissa’s name for her?  Maybe they were friends?  Maybe…  Why was Violet’s seat going to be empty? 

 Anja’s been pretty slow on the uptake for the last few chapters, hasn’t she?

James’ face dropped, Jack went red, and Cherry whispered, “Now she’s done it.”

“It might all have been different if Violet was still alive,” James sighed, “Violet might have persuaded Joe to stay with his family, and then he’d never have gone near the wretched bus.  Underneath it all, Joe was like the rest of us, always was.  He’d do anything she said…”

“So why do you never do anything I say?” Leah snapped.  Apparently all this Violet business was really getting her goat.

“He liked Vi better,” Robbie sniggered, prompting Leah to hit him on the head with her mat.  I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, but I made a mental note to buy Leah some sweets later as a reward.  Robbie had been a horrible little brat all evening, and he was finally getting what he deserved.  Also, I saw that Leah wasn’t the perfect goody-two-shoes Joe had made her out to be.  I should have known that I couldn’t trust Joe as far as I could throw him.

 “Joe has a slightly rose-tinted view of his sister’s behaviour!  Therefore, he is eeevil!”

Still, how come Leah and Robbie knew about Violet?  I don’t have first-hand experience of this, but usually if your dad’s cheating on your mum, he tries to keep it a secret from everyone. 

 Like I said- slow on the uptake.

And apparently, Melissa knew as well.  She looked as sad as James did, but she could still see the malign effects on her younger children.  “James, can you please stop talking about her?” she hissed, “You know Leah doesn’t like it.  She gets the impression that you’re comparing her to Vi.”

Now I was really confused.  Why would someone compare their daughter to an ex-girlfriend? 

OH, FOR CLIFF’S SAKE.

I couldn’t find out about anything, because Jack and Vick were giving me strong “Don’t ask” signals with their eyebrows.  Fortunately, someone had enough sense to change the subject.

“I fell over outside!” Ben announced to all and sundry.  Leah wasn’t the only one I’d be buying sweets for.

“Poor Ben!” Melissa squealed, more out of relief than concern really, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Ben replied, “Gary picked me up.”  Gary was rapidly becoming Ben’s favourite person (not least because he did everything Ben said), and one of the advantages of that position was that Ben talked about him all the time.  “Gary draws all the time, Auntie Melissa.  And he likes Auntie Annie a lot.  And he…”

 Cute Ben Mo…  Oh, forget it, we’ll be here all day.  It is nice to see somebody appreciating Gary without harping on about his tragic, tormented soul, though.

Cherry told me later that she was worried that any minute Ben would mention Joe, which would require an elaborate cover story…

Again- these people fail at hiding out.  And why would you put a two-year-old in a story and then not have him do the things that a two-year-old would do in real life?  Like, for instance, blab the big secret to everyone he meets?  That could have been a useful source of tension, there.

…(we’d already had to make something up about why he called me “Annie” instead of “Honour”). 

We will not actually hear this elaborate cover story, but trust Anja when she says it was a good ‘un.

But at the time, I had no idea why she suddenly turned round and said, “Robbie, do you want to take Leah and Ben to get some ice-cream?  They’re 20p each, I think.”  She ferreted around in her purse for three 20p pieces, then handed them to Robbie.  This, in my opinion, was a bad move.  Robbie would probably try to use all three 20ps to buy something big for himself.  (He did, but fortunately his plan was thwarted when Leah twisted his arm behind his back and took the money.  Definitely not a goody-two-shoes.  I know all this because Ben delightedly told me in the car on the way home.)

Ben’s very articulate for a two-year-old, have you noticed?

Emily looked from side to side.  “It was funny, you talking about Vi earlier,” she said, changing the subject back and therefore ruining all of Ben’s good work, “‘Cause I can still remember what she was like.  She and Leah definitely look and sound a bit like each other.  Did Leah ever know her?”

“Not really,” Vick replied, “Leah was only… um… five or so months old when Vi died.”

Apparently, this wasn’t as important a piece of news to Emily as it was to me.  “Oh, right,” she replied, staring into her pizza, “Only I thought Leah might have copied the way Vi spoke or something.  You know, so you wouldn’t miss her as much…?”

James nodded, still looking miserable.  “In a way, Violet’s spirit lives on through her little sister.  But nothing can stop us missing her.  You never get over losing a child.”

Suddenly, everything made sense.

THANK YOU.  You know, when the murderer you’re trying to catch has to spell out a vital piece of information before you get it, you’re really not that great a detective.

Violet hadn’t been James’ girlfriend at all.  No wonder he felt free to talk about her in front of Melissa and his children.  No wonder Leah thought her dad was comparing her to Violet.  Violet had been her older sister, someone she was expected to take the place of.  Expected by James, anyway.

And the “unforgivable” thing that Joe had done to his sister wasn’t necessarily something he’d done to Leah.  It could have been something he’d done to Violet.

And considering that Violet was dead, one guess seemed glaringly obvious.

 Join us again for chapter 15, in which Anja reads Melissa’s mind, and I wonder why Melissa wasn’t the protagonist.  I think she’s the third character I’ve said that about.

I started a new job last September, and, in the mornings, I had to walk through a cemetery to get to the station.  One thing I noticed was how idiosyncratic a lot of the gravestones were.  You had heart-shaped stones, pink and gold lettering, poems by members of the family, photos of the deceased embedded in the stone, kites, windmills, and balloons.  Loads of balloons.  All of which, in my opinion, beats the hell out of just leaving a cactus on the grave.

“Christmas tree!” Ben yelled, “Christmas tree!  Come on, Auntie Annie!”

I followed Ben into the living room, where Cherry was struggling to put up something large, bendy and green.  The plastic tree was hard to get in position, so I could see why she needed Joe to help her.

I still felt a sense of impending disaster when I thought about Joe.  His slimy act had been shaken by Jean’s death, but it had rallied well. 

This is the closest Anja will come to expressing her condolences to Joe.

Joe was once again the person who acted like everyone was about to walk into his traps.  I’d noticed, though, that he refused to go anywhere near the balconies in Wild Cherry House. 

Geez, I wonder why?

I knew that if he ever did anything he’d regret (though I doubted he’d regret anything), that was where I could hide.  If only I’d known that I wasn’t the one he’d go after.

See, Anja, there’s foreshadowing, and then there’s just spoiling the rest of the story.  The readers certainly aren’t going to stick around for your sparkling personality, I can tell you that.

It was a huge relief to get shot of Mr Daly, even if it had happened in such a terrifying way.  Joe had thanked me personally for getting rid of him, which I’d thought was bad taste. 

Said the girl who referred to one of the mourners at her funeral as “Super-Blob.”

Then again, I thought that practically everything Joe said around that time was bad taste.

I want to give fifteen-year-old me some credit for recognising that Anja’s sudden grudge against Joe is completely illogical, but that’s kind of tainted by the fact that I know Anja’s grudge is going to be spectacularly vindicated near the end.

He did, however, seem to be genuinely worried about Gary.

“Between you and me, Anja,” he’d said that morning, “Gary’s been looking all edgy since Mr Daly attacked you.  He looked as if he was going to throw up when you told him.  There’s something wrong with that kid, I can just tell.”

You mean besides the Oedipus Complex and the constant weeping?

I’d just put it down to Gary caring about me a lot.  I knew I’d want to throw up if someone attacked someone I loved.  But still, Joe was right about Gary being edgy.  He was acting as if something horrible had actually, rather than nearly, happened. 

“Bloody hell, Gary, I was only nearly strangled to death!  Why don’t you relax?”

In fact, he looked as if his life had turned sour right before his eyes.  And, considering all that business with Jordan, it had turned sour at least twice before.

“I should warn you, mate,” Cherry told me after she’d finally wrestled the tree into submission, “We aren’t going to get a white Christmas this year.  Not with the weather so far.  You’ll probably be able to get a suntan on Christmas Day.”

“Ah well,” I replied, “That’s global warming for you.”

Cherry laughed.  “Yep.  Rudolph and his pals might have to wear jet skis if the ice caps melt, and they don’t look good on hooves, believe me.”

Fifteen-year-old me practices her stand-up routine.

This reminded Ben of something.  “Carrot for Rudolph,” he said firmly.

Cherry nodded.  “OK, we’ll leave out a carrot for Rudolph.  Just as long as he doesn’t leave wet hoof-prints on the carpet, what with the jet-skiing and all,” she said before bursting into peals of laughter along with me.  Ben clearly didn’t approve.  “Gary,” he whinged, “Mummy and Auntie Annie are laughing at Rudolph!”

Cute Ben Moment number forty-five.

Gary smiled, closing his pad.  He was a bit awkward with little kids, but Ben liked him anyway.  He liked anyone who was prepared to give him chocolate.  “They aren’t laughing at Rudolph, Ben.  They’re just being silly.  They like Rudolph really.” 

This didn’t seem to satisfy Ben, since he turned back and glared at us.  “Santa won’t come if you laugh at Rudolph!” he warned.

“OK, OK,” Cherry spluttered, “We’ve stopped laughing now. 

They’re still laughing after that long?  I guess they have to make their own entertainment in these parts.

Come on, Anja, let’s get the tinsel on.”

I was saved from being attacked by the amazing tinsel worm when the phone rang.

I’d just like to point out that, at the same time as these heartwarming Christmassy antics are going on, Anja’s parents are contemplating their first Christmas without their beloved daughter.  How much do you think they’re enjoying the decorating?

“Hey, Anja!” the voice on the other end shrieked, “It’s Estelle.”

“Hi!  Haven’t heard from you in a while!”  Since October, in fact.  I was beginning to think she and Mark had abandoned us.

Actually, they just snuck out of the story while nobody was looking.  And good luck to them, that’s what I say.

“Well, Joe’s been phoning me every week or so, so I know all the news.  I heard about Cherry inheriting Jean’s old place, for instance.”

“I didn’t bother to come down for my mother’s best friend’s funeral, though.  That would have been far too much effort.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have been too polite of her to move without telling you.  But… um… listen…”

I love how that’s the big news that Joe needed to tell Estelle.  Not about Jean’s mysterious death, or anything.  That’s incidental.  What Estelle really cares about is that Cherry got to move to a bigger house.

“Yeah?”

“About Joe… Did you ever hear about something bad happening between him and Leah?”

“No,” Estelle replied, sounding confused, “Joe always told me he liked Leah.  Why, what’s been going on?”

“Nothing…  But did Joe ever mention someone called Violet?”

“Oh, Violet!” Estelle whined, “No, Joe didn’t, but James sure did.  I kept telling him it wasn’t polite to go on about old girlfriends in front of his wife, but did he ever listen? No way!  Every time I told him he said I was too young to understand!”

“She was an old girlfriend?”

“Why else would he go on about her like that? 

SPOILERS- Violet is actually Joe’s other, long-deceased sister, and Estelle is a conclusion-jumping numpty.

It was so embarrassing for Joe, having to listen to stories about how great Violet was.  It was always awkward, just after my mother left for America.  Obviously I was staying with Jean…

“Obviously.  You can tell how close we were from my tearful speech at her funeral.  OH WAIT.”

…but James seemed to think that I needed a dad as well, which I didn’t.  I never even thought much of the dad I had, before he left.  Anyway, there’s James acting as though I’m some poor little waif he has to take care of, so I get exposed to their family arguments, which was embarrassing.

I love how even James’ nicer actions get spun into symptoms of pure eeevil.  “He felt protective towards an abandoned child?  HOW EMBARRASSING!  He gave the eulogy at his own aunt’s funeral?  STRING HIM UP!”

Me and Joe were the heirs to Blaze, because if you remember this was a couple of years ago and Cherry wasn’t on the scene yet…

And, once again, this story would be much more interesting if it turned out that Joe and Estelle were trying to bump Cherry off for the inheritance.  But it won’t.

…so we had to work together, kind of against his family, and of course when I met Mark…”

“So,” I asked, “Do you know what ended up happening to Violet?”

“That’s enough character development for you, missy.”

“No, but I’ll tell you this- James was crazy about her.  I swear, every time his dad mentioned her name Joe would cringe.  James was just so damn tactless.  Don’t tell Joe I said this, but the Fosters are one mixed-up family.”

“You’re telling me,” I snarled, watching Joe flirt with Cherry, “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something wrong with all of them.”

I can see her point.  Flirting with any relative of Anja’s is a sure sign of a sick mind.

Unfortunately for me, Estelle worked out what I was implying.  “Anja!” she retorted, “I don’t know what you’ve got against Joe all of a sudden, but despite being the son of a psycho, he’s turned out fine!”

Fifteen-year-old me didn’t know what Anja had against Joe all of a sudden, either.  But she needed conflict, and for some reason she didn’t want to get it from the serial killer.

I was caught off-balance.  Estelle had never been angry at me before, but I could tell from experience that I’d better change her mood quickly, or I wouldn’t like the consequences.  “Sorry!  It’s just something James said about Leah…”

“Oh, him,” Estelle replied, pronouncing the second word as if it was some evil curse, “Come on, Anja, you know about James!  He’ll say anything to turn people against Joe!”

Hee.  I’m sorry I called you a numpty, Estelle.  You speak words of wisdom.

“I know,” I replied, “OK, sorry.  But it does make you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“Why would someone just turn against one of their kids like that, especially when they treat their other kids normally?  It doesn’t make sense.”

Anja Cleary, champion of abused children everywhere.

Also, please note that Gary’s stepbrother turned against him, and he seemed to treat the rest of his family normally.  But, of course, Gary is the love interest, so he can’t be evil.

Estelle was clearly fed up with me. 

SO AM I.

“Anja, it might seem strange, but it happens all the time.  Trust me.  You don’t have to worry about Joe.”

Estelle was wrong.  Something had happened, I was sure.  Joe might have been able to charm Cherry and Estelle with his slimy act, but he wasn’t fooling me. 

Anja is much smarter than people who’ve known Joe for years!

I knew I was right.  Joe was just as mixed-up as James was.

Never mind what he’d done to Leah.  Every time Cherry made a teasing remark to Gary, I saw a look on Joe’s face that could have curdled milk.

*

“I seriously don’t see your problem with Joe,” Gary told me as he sat on a shelf in the wardrobe, drawing.  Yes, I really do mean a shelf.  I looked at him.  “I just don’t like him, OK?” I replied.

“Why?”

“Well, there’s the whole Leah thing, and I think he’s a bit jealous of you.” 

“Well, that’s me convinced!” said Gary, getting out a pitchfork, “Let’s have a good old-fashioned witch-burning!”

“Jealous?”  Gary smirked.  “Why would he be jealous?”

“Because…” I wasn’t sure how to put this.  I couldn’t exactly say, “Because he’s got a crush on Cherry the size of Mount Everest, and she has a thing for you, much to my annoyance I might well add,” so I changed the subject. 

…Why?  Why can’t you say that?  It’s the only part of your anti-Joe campaign that makes any sense!

“Actually, is there room for two people on that shelf?  It looks more comfortable than this chair.”  Said chair looked as if it had been dragged through a hedge backwards twenty years ago, and hadn’t been upholstered since.

Gary moved up, and I sat down beside him.  “I’ve always liked enclosed spaces,” he told me, “I’d always hide in my wardrobe when I felt upset.  Childish or what?”

(to the tune of “The Lollipop Song”)  Oedipus, Oedipus, oh, Oedi-Oedipus…

“Yeah, but I’ve felt like that.  Like when I was being picked on at school, or when my dog died, or when…  Oh, Gary!”  I pulled him towards me with such force that our heads nearly collided.  Gary, needless to say, looked very frightened.  “What?” he squeaked.

Anja will now hug him and squeeze him and call him George.

“Well, I feel like such a cry-baby next to you.  Here I am, whinging about my dog, when you’ve been through things that…”

“Anja!” he said sharply, “You’re not allowed to feel sorry for me, remember?”  

“I’ve developed a new character trait now!  I can be impressively meta!”

“Oh.  Sorry, I forgot.”  We’d agreed that whatever had happened to Gary before was in the past, and his life was, according to him, perfect now, so there was no point in dwelling on the time when it hadn’t been. 

I’m sure every psychiatrist in the country would agree.

Personally, I wasn’t a hundred per cent happy with this arrangement, but it kept Gary from going off into bouts of misery and fear, so it was OK.  Well, that’s what I thought.

The idea was, if we brought up the Things Of Which We Didn’t Speak, we had to change the subject as soon as we realised our mistake.  After looking out of the window for a second, I thought of something.  “We haven’t done anything about James Foster for a while, have you noticed?”

“Anyone would think we were incompetent protagonists.”

“What’s the point?” Gary asked, “We haven’t seen him since Jean’s funeral.  He hasn’t been bothering us.  The only reason for tracking him down would be revenge, and what would that achieve?”

…Putting a known murderer behind bars?

For some reason, that was a real weight off my shoulders. 

Once again, everyone’s encouraging Anja’s baser instincts.  Imagine if she got bitten by a radioactive spider- every time she tried to go out and fight a supervillain, her friends would tell her that she’d do much more good by staying on the sofa and watching Eastenders.

In the past month, underneath everything had been a tiny worry that one day I would have to confront James and probably get myself killed. 

“Tiny.”  “Tiny.”

And now, Gary had explained that worry away in about five seconds.  And I wasn’t about to dismiss it as part of his great desire not to cause trouble. 

“You know what?” I said, “You’re right.  And it’s not like he can still get anything he wants.  Estelle’s still with Mark and Cherry’s got Jean’s cash.”

“Now that he’s unsatisfied and frustrated, I’m sure his urge to kill will just go away!”

Gary laughed as he kissed me on the forehead.  “Stop worrying, Anja.  He isn’t coming back.”

Part of me wishes that the story just stopped there, and that was the happy ending.  Not only would it be hilariously terrible and completely in character, but it would also mean that I didn’t have to put up with these characters for another seven chapters.  Ah well.

Christmas is supposed to be the one day of the year when you can focus on all the nice bits of the world without being called short-sighted, isn’t it? 

Well, that’s what Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo says.  And if he’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Well, that’s the theory.  And the Christmas of that year was going so well, too.  But I would soon find out that, calm, peaceful and reasonable though my Gary was, he could still be horribly, horribly wrong.

Join us again for Chapter Fourteen, in which we finally get a full-length scene with our villain.  I know, I was surprised too.

The slimy one sighed as he closed Cherry’s front door.  “Is it me, or is Cherry Hughes the most amazing girl on the face of the planet?”

Joe is now “the slimy one.”  And yes, this is exactly how teenage boys talk about the girls they fancy.  On Saved By The Bell, that is.

I rolled my eyes. I’d been suspicious of Joe for nearly 24 hours now.  He didn’t seem to notice, and that was annoying me. 

Those three sentences do a neat job of summing up exactly how much impact Anja has on the world around her.  You can imagine her spending an entire day glaring at the back of Joe’s head and trying to communicate her distrust through sheer telepathy. 

“Knock it off, Joe,” I snapped, “If you really like her, what’s wrong with asking her out?”  Maybe then she’d stop flirting with Gary, I thought. 

Joe shook his head.  “Do women as beautiful as Cherry usually give guys like me a second glance?  No they don’t, so why should they start now?” 

Everything we’ve heard so far indicates that Joe is quite attractive and Cherry likes him already, so, really, this is just angst for the sake of angst.

“Women!” Mr Daly snarled, “Trust me, you’re better off without them, Mr Foster.  All they do is blind you with their beauty, then throw you away when they’ve no further use for you.  We don’t need them.”

This will be the last chapter in which Mr Daly will appear, so we’ll never find out whether the “all women are evil seductresses” philosophy he’s expressed in the last couple of chapters is based on any real-life bitterness and heartbreak, or if it’s just another aspect of Straw Daily Mail Readerhood.  Personally, I think we could easily have skipped some of Gary’s backstory to allow room for Mr Daly’s.  As it is, his first name has only been mentioned twice.

I was about to go into a colossal rant about Mr Daly’s misogyny, but Gary beat me to it.  “For your information,” he snapped as those icy blue eyes flashed with fury, “If it hadn’t been for one specific woman giving up her life, my stepbrother would have killed me.  So I need women.”

“Oh, and my dad says that one of them gave birth to me, but that might just be an urban legend.”

“We all know what you need,” Mr Daly replied bitterly.  I would probably have hit him if Cherry hadn’t rushed out of her door and chased us. 

“How dare you have heavy-handed conversations about sexism where my neighbours can hear you!  You’re for it now!”

Her shocked, tearful face made my heart jump.  Something absolutely terrible had happened, and I only had ten more seconds of safety left before I found out what it was.

“Joe!” she sobbed, “Your mum just phoned.  Your aunt’s had an accident- they don’t reckon she’ll pull through.  I’m really, really sorry.”

It’s probably for the best.  She was far too intelligent to be in this story.

Joe wasn’t the only one who was horrified by this news.  Even though I’d only met Jean the day before, the sharp, doubting woman’s image stuck in my head.  She could probably have brought James to justice in half an hour if we’d told her all we knew. 

…I’m pretty sure they did.  In fact, Jean seemed to know everything they told her in advance.  Why wasn’t she the protagonist, again?

And now, we’d never get to tell her anything.  She had only confirmed my suspicions, and added something about someone called Violet, who I was too wary to ask Joe about. 

Despite Jean specifically telling you to do so.

Worst of all, James had finally succeeded in killing someone.  Not Mark or Joe, who had been his main targets, but someone who’d known too much.  The only person clever enough to work out exactly what was going on.   If Jean could get killed, we didn’t stand a chance.

“What happened?” Joe choked.

“She fell off a balcony,” Cherry replied. 

Pfft.  Yes, James truly is a criminal mastermind to be reckoned with.  Only a true genius could work out how to shove people off balconies!

“Well, I say fell, but Mel said she might have jumped…” She knew as well as I did that none of this was true.  Jean hadn’t fallen or even jumped.  She’d been pushed, and we all had a good idea of who’d done the pushing.

At that point, Gary put his arm around me, reassuring me that we weren’t doomed.   

Joe might have lost the only person in his family who truly cared about him, but it’s Anja who needs to be comforted!

As I looked at him, I saw the hidden pain that always seemed to be on his face…

“Hidden,” she says.  That’s a laugh.

…and I remembered what had happened to the last girl he’d loved.  I started to panic.  Maybe I’d end up as dead as Topaz.   

“We will all end up sacrificed to serve his tragic backstory!  Nooo!”

Fragility was an important part of him, but maybe Gary was too fragile to stop something happening to me. 

Girls are completely incapable of defending themselves, you see.

Or maybe he was too fragile to stop something happening to himself.

SPOILERS- Yup!

(Paragraph break.)

“This is the last will and testament,” the lawyer had read, “Of Eugenia Beatrice Foster.”

I hadn’t been there…

“…but I know what the lawyer said, on account of the fact that the author started to write this scene with me present, but then rapidly became aware that she didn’t actually know anything about will-reading.”

…but for some reason Cherry had been invited, along with Joe’s family.  I could guess why.  The lawyers had invited the people who had been mentioned in the will. 

Understandably, I started to vaguely wonder what Cherry had inherited as I sat in the hotel restaurant. 

“If I’d been in the swimming pool, of course, I’d have wondered about something else.  Maybe about why sharks don’t go to the dentist.”

With me were two people I didn’t trust as far as I could throw them, and one person I loved.  Guess what?  I was talking to Gary.  Not that Joe would have talked much anyway.  He’d been very quiet since Jean’s death, and all his sliminess seemed to have worn off.  But I still couldn’t forget that he’d done something unforgivable to Leah.

Anja could comfort him in his obvious shock and grief, but she vaguely heard that he’d done something wrong in the past, so that’s out.

(Rereading this, I’m pretty sure I initially planned for Anja, Joe and Gary to end up being a love triangle, but then got over-invested in Anja and Gary’s EPIC LOVE.  This may explain Cherry’s existence.)

“I hate waiting,” I moaned.  Gary looked up from his pad and smiled at me.  “You also hate November, tulips, people who make assumptions about your love life, Mr Daly, and apparently Joe.  What do you like?”

Heh.  Even Gary’s starting to get fed up.

“Apart from you, you mean?”  Gary smiled.  “I’m serious,” I sighed, “Without you, the last three weeks would have been dire.  They just seem to have been custom-made to antagonise me.

Yes, Anja is clearly the person who’s suffered most over the last three weeks.  Never mind her parents’ grief, Gary’s guilt, Mr Daly’s ostracisation, Cherry and Shell’s mind-numbing terror, and Jean’s death.  All of this happened solely to get on Anja’s nerves!

For a start, I had to sleep on someone else’s floor, in the same building as an old git and a complete slimeball…

…Aren’t Joe and Mr Daly sitting right next to you?  RUDE.

…while the whole nation made me out to be a cute little girl.   

Which you previously said you enjoyed.

Then Mr Daly kept accusing me of being a slapper, and now, to top it off, I’m living in a hotel, shortly after someone’s died.”  I folded my arms in annoyance, while Gary looked up at the ceiling with a philosophical expression.   

Yep, that’s her reaction to Jean’s death.  Annoyance.

“Do you miss your family?” he asked.

I hadn’t expected him to ask me anything like this.   

Me neither.  Gary’s being impressively meta in this scene, isn’t he?

“Well…  The thing is, I hadn’t seen them much in the months before the bus thing.  My brother was always hanging around with his mates, not that he liked me much anyway.  And my parents were always at work or going out for the night.  But for some reason, I wish I still lived at home.”   

We could have used this backstory eleven chapters ago.  It’s too late to make your family look like the bad guys now.

I’d managed to sum up my feelings exactly.  Whenever I had time to stop and think about it, there was a tight, uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that came from my unfamiliar surroundings.   

And it’s also too late to try and convince us that you have actual human emotions.

“I’m guessing you don’t feel like that?”

Gary shrugged.  “Well…  I miss Helen a lot.”

“Your stepsister?”

“Yeah.  I think she liked me really, but she would have liked me a lot more if she hadn’t thought I was going to die if she wasn’t careful with me.  I think she’d have talked to me more if I hadn’t had that heart attack…”

“Phone call for Honour Cleary!”

It took me a while to recognise my fake name and turn around.  

Right!  That’s enough half-hearted character development- on with the half-hearted plot!

The shout had come from the receptionist’s desk, and I had to doubt whatsoever that the phone call was from Cherry.

“Anja!” she squealed on the other end, “You’ll never guess, it’s brilliant!”  Her tone had changed dramatically from the miserable one that had announced Jean’s death.

All in all, Jean is forgotten fairly quickly.

“Why?  What happened?”

“Well…  First the lawyer went, ‘This is the last will and testament of Eugenia Beatrice Foster,’ and I thought, This is great.  We’ll sit through a whole load of legal jargon and then it’ll turn out she’s left me an ornamental tea set or whatever.  And I was wondering what the point was in coming along, you know, especially after the funeral had been so miserable- ‘Born into sin and dying in sin,’ what a load of cobblers…”

Fifteen-year-old me had never been to a funeral, which is why this bit is ripped off from Adrian Mole.

“Yeah, I know.”  The eulogy had clearly been written by someone who hadn’t known Jean and had assumed that she was a stereotypical old woman.  James had read it, which in my opinion was just typical. 

A few things:

1. A woman in her fifties isn’t old enough to be a “stereotypical old woman.”
2. Murderer or not, James presumably knew Jean a lot better than a girl who only met her once.
3. We never find out how the eulogy made her out to be a stereotypical old woman (“born into sin and dying in sin” doesn’t really qualify.)
4. Nor do we find out what made Anja feel it was inaccurate, since she, as I said, only met Jean once.
5. James is (as far as anyone knows) Jean’s closest living relative.  Of course he’s going to read the eulogy.
6. Why was Anja at the funeral in the first place?

But I needed to know how the reading had gone.  “So, what happened?”

“Well, James and Mel looked pretty confident that they’d inherit Wild Cherry House and Blaze.  The lawyer went through all the things everyone had been left- a few hundred quid each for Jack, Leah, Robbie and Vick, with pretty strict instructions that their parents couldn’t tell them what to do with it.”  Cherry cackled.  “But then, it said ‘If anything should happen to my nephew Joseph before I die, I leave my home, my business, and my entire estate to’- drum roll please…” She paused to do a drum roll effect.  “Svetlana Irene Hughes, baby!”

We’re now completely in the “dancing on Jean’s grave” stage of proceedings.  And no, we don’t get any reaction from Joe over Cherry stealing his inheritance.

(Irene is a Greek name.  This family really is from everywhere.) 

“Oh my God!” I squeaked, “So you’ve inherited everything?”

“You bet I have!  And I’ll be moving into Will Cherry House ASAP; you can count on that! 

“Some people would have waited until they’d scrubbed the bloodstains out of the patio, but not me!”

I’ll be in there at six, so you can check out of the hotel and I’ll pick you up at seven.  Bring Gary and Joe, too.”

Uh-oh.  I could see a potential problem here.  “Just Gary and Joe?”

“Yep.”

“Not Mr Daly?”

Cherry snorted.  “Get real, Anja.  I don’t want to live in the same house as that creep.  I could just about stomach him being in my living room for a few hours a day, but living in my house?  No way.”

“So what should I tell him?”

“Tell him exactly what I said.  You don’t have to be polite to him or owt!  You hate him, remember?”

I love how everyone in this story constantly tells Anja to give in to her baser instincts.  It’s not like she needs the encouragement. 

Putting the phone down, I thought, Svetlana doesn’t understand how hard it is to get rid of him.  

Neither do the readers, since this hasn’t been demonstrated at any point in the story.

I knew that telling Mr Daly would be hard, and that he might react violently.  But I never guessed that his resentment of women, and especially me, could lead to something potentially horrific.

At five to seven, I was pulling on my top.  Knowing that Mr Daly wouldn’t be there to disapprove, and that Joe would be too depressed to look at my chest, I’d picked the most attractive top from my wardrobe.  

Priorities!

Most of my clothes were either borrowed from Estelle or bought when I’d got to Southend, and this top fell into the second category.  For some reason, Estelle’s stuff looked terrible on me.  There was no denying that she had a better figure than I did, even if she was pregnant.  But my thoughts about what I was wearing faded out when someone rammed their fist into the door.

“Let me in this instant!”  Mr Daly’s sour voice echoed through the hotel room. 

Couldn’t he just have knocked?  She’s more likely to let him in if she doesn’t suspect anything.

I sat down on the stool, determined not to let him in.  “Why should I?”

“You have to leave the room at some point!  Isn’t your sister expecting you?”  The word “sister” was dripping with sarcasm.  “I know what’s happening!” he continued, “You think you’re heading off with your lover to a glamorous lifestyle!  You’ve done nothing to deserve a life of luxury, you ugly little slut!  Nothing!”  At this point, he managed to get the door open.  I must have forgotten to lock it properly.  He took one look at my clothes, and he was off again.  “Here we are in a complete mess, intruding on a family’s grief already, and you and your cousin abuse our situation!  

Mr Daly makes one last attempt at sanity before the story turns him into a homicidal maniac.  It was a good effort, Mr D. 

I’ve seen the look you both get when you talk to that pale-looking lad!  Fluttering your eyelashes, wearing provocative clothes…  You’re disgusting!  Trying to seduce a sick boy for cheap thrills! 

“Trying”?  I’m pretty sure that Mr Daly already knows Anja and Gary have slept together.

Well, your cousin seems determined to keep me at arm’s length, but I can still teach you not to play with people’s emotions!  Someone’s going to teach you eventually, and it might as well be sooner rather than later!”

As soon as his fingers came within a centimetre of my neck, I grabbed his hands and started twisting his wrists round.  As soon as I heard that sickening snapping noise, I knew I was safe.  For once, something horrible was a sign of something fortunate.

“For once.”  This from a girl who reacted to a near-fatal explosion with “This is so cool!” 

The next thing I remember is picking up my bags and running out of the hotel while Mr Daly stayed in the room, screaming so loud that people in Kent could probably have heard him.  

None of the hotel staff bother to investigate, though.  Why should they?  They just give the customers their keys and never bother with them again.

As I rushed to get into Cherry’s car, I shivered.  I knew how close I’d come to something hideous, and it was much closer than Mark and Joe had come to being crushed to death.

Anja always suffers the most.  Are you noticing a theme here?

By the time we got to Wild Cherry House, Gary was crying.  He was trying to hide it from Cherry, Ben, Joe and me, but I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Gary’s sad,” Ben said forlornly.  I nodded.  “He’ll be OK.  Go and talk to your mum.”

Ben did as I said, and I put a hand on Gary’s shoulder.  Everyone else had gone inside, so we could talk properly.  “Why are you so upset?” I asked, “Mr Daly didn’t attack you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling empathy for another human being.  We don’t do that in this story.”

He turned to hug me, his voice quavering.  “I’m sorry, Anja.  I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that bastard.  Why can’t I do anything right?”

“Gary!” I snapped, pushing him away so I could look at him properly, “You can do things right.  You couldn’t have known he’d attack me just because you left the hotel a few seconds before me.   And all that stuff about protecting me…  I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Gary.  

“In complete contrast to what I said after Jean died!  I think I’ve really matured in the last week or so!” 

He’s probably in an A&E department right now, getting his broken wrists seen to. 

Or still weeping on the hotel carpet, being callously ignored by the chambermaids.

And he doesn’t know my fake name, so when he tells everyone it was Anja Cleary who’d done it…  Well, everyone will think he’s a nutter!  Trust me, Gary, everything is fine.”  It wasn’t, though.  My fear was still hanging in the air around me.

He sniffed.  “When I think of him trying to hurt you, I feel sick.  Please don’t ever do anything dangerous.  I know this is kind of morbid, but if anything happened to you I don’t know what I’d do.”  He was telling the truth.  When I looked into his face, I could see more pain and terror than I’d experienced in my entire life.  I realised in surprise that what Mr Daly had done had scared him even more than it had scared me.

“Trust me,” I smiled, “I won’t get myself killed.”   As I said this, we stepped over the threshold and slammed the coloured glass-plated door behind us. 

Our life at Wild Cherry House had begun.

Join us again for Chapter Thirteen, in which there are Cute Ben Moments, nonsensical red herrings, and constant discussions of Anja and Gary’s Epic Love.  The plot?  Oh, there’s no room for that.