‘Holly messaged me. There’s going to be a service for Olivia, like a celebration of her life, and people are doing things, cards and poems and music and stuff,’ she gulped, ‘and I can’t go.’
‘Says who?’
‘Vivien. She said I’m not welcome. She said that to them, Mum. Olivia was my best friend, for ever, I loved her so much and I’m not even allowed-’ She couldn’t continue, she was sobbing so hard.
Janet sighed and stroked her back. ‘That’s not fair,’ she said, ‘it’s mean and it’s hurtful but that’s because Vivien is hurt and she’s looking for someone to blame and she’s picked on you. But listen to me, she’s wrong. This was not your fault, you are just being made into the scapegoat.’
‘Holly said some of them, they don’t think it’s fair and if I can’t go then they won’t either. Like a boycott,’ Elise said.
Janet sighed. ‘I don’t think that’s the answer. It’s good to know that they would do that to support you, that they understand, but then the service would become about you and who’s there and who’s not and who’s right and wrong and all the ins and outs of Olivia’s death and that wouldn’t be right, would it?’
‘No,’ Elise agreed.
‘We’ll just have to have our own private thing. I’m sure Taisie would like to do something, she’s really upset too, and your dad and I would.’
‘What like?’ Elise blew her nose.
‘Well, we can make cards, read poems, and take flowers to the cemetery once they’ve had the funeral. We could plant a tree.’
Elise pulled a face at the last suggestion.
‘You think about it,’ Janet said, ‘think what you’d like to do.’
‘OK.’
‘Have you had anything to eat today?’
She shook her head.
‘You need to have something. Soup?’
Elise shrugged.
‘Soup it is then, chicken or tomato?’
‘Tomato.’
It was vindictive of Vivien, Janet thought, demonizing Elise; perhaps in the future she would come round and see that it was unjust. The ostracism pained Janet but she took heart from the fact that some of the girls’ friends were mature enough to support Elise and want to include her.
Rachel pressed the entry phone at the safe house and was buzzed in. Connor was in the living room, the TV was on, loud, an action film going by the soundtrack but Rachel couldn’t put a name to it.
‘Where’s your mum?’ Rachel said.
‘Shopping.’
‘Shopping where?’
‘That Aldi you told her about.’ He seemed twitchy, scratching at his arms and his neck, his eyes glittering. Was he high?
‘Can you turn that down a bit,’ she said, ‘or off?’
‘Why?’
‘I want to talk to you.’
He nudged the volume down a notch.
She rolled her eyes. He gave a heavy sigh and snapped it off.