‘Oh, don’t worry about it. You’re right. A newborn solo is probably most people’s idea of hell but I won’t be on my own. My parents are being really supportive and I have Amy and Marni my nanny will do more hours. I’ll be throwing money at this issue – it’s the only way to stay sane, believe me,’ she finished with an oddly hollow laugh.
‘Are you OK? I mean apart from …’ Ali cast a hand around awkwardly, searching for a good way to put Shelly’s troubles.
‘Apart from what? Everything?’ Shelly suggested wryly.
‘Well, yeah.’
Shelly gazed across the car park. Despite the belly, she looked tiny, Ali thought, and vulnerable.
‘Have you lost weight, Shelly?’
‘It’s just stress.’ Shelly sighed. ‘Everything has been so full on.’
She met Ali’s eyes and the look of bald fear startled Ali.
‘What’s going on? Are you OK?’
‘I’m not,’ Shelly replied plainly. ‘I have this person who is wrecking my life, and no one is taking it seriously. The guards can’t seem to find any answers. They don’t seem to understand half of what we do on Instagram. My parents are freaking, which is not comforting. And as you probably gathered, Dan is blaming me completely for the whole thing.’
‘Shit. Is this still the person in the DMs? The one getting ratty every time you forget to do an outfit post?’
‘Yes, I think so. Only it’s really escalated.’ She looked uncertain about whatever she was about to say next but appeared to steel herself. ‘They came into my home, Ali.’
‘What? So, you’ve seen them—’
‘No,’ Shelly interrupted sharply. ‘Not exactly. I dunno if you remember, it was Georgie’s birthday about a month ago and I actually forgot to set up the balloons the night before. I sent Amy a voicenote asking her to pick up stuff. Anyway, when I came down in the morning, it was all laid out perfectly. Except Amy hadn’t done it.’
Ali shivered despite the warm late August day.
‘What. The. Fuck. That’s so creepy. What was set up? Balloons and shit?’
‘Yeah, they sent a message being all “I’ve always got your back. Lucky, I’m always watching and listening”.’
‘God.’ Ali was reeling. ‘It’s just so, so freaky. How did they get in?’
Shelly just shrugged helplessly. Something niggled at Ali about the message Shelly had just related but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
‘No idea. Still. Obviously, I’ve put in way more security measures since. I’ve got a camera on the front door that links to my phone. All the alarm codes and locks are changed but they’re relentless.’ Ali folded Shelly into an awkward hug. She looked so worn out and desperate.
‘Here’s Sam. C’mon let’s get you fed. You look tiny, like someone’s FaceFixed you into oblivion.’
Shelly mustered a thin, bloodless smile.
Sam pulled up beside them and Ali ushered Shelly into the passenger seat. ‘Mega preggos get shotgun,’ she chirped, trying to sound cheery.
‘Sorry that took so long.’ Sam slipped into gear and headed back down the avenue to the exit. ‘Your one actually clocked me making my “getaway” and gave me the bollocking of my life. She said I deserved to be sterilised if I couldn’t sit through one antenatal class. It was a bit much,’ he trailed off, spotting Shelly’s upset.
‘Crap, are you OK? What’d I miss? Is it your husband? He seemed … eh … nice?’ Sam finished clumsily.
Shelly, to Ali’s relief, managed a laugh at this.
‘Dan is the least of my problems. I was just telling Ali about this complete psycho who is wrecking my life currently.’
As Ali directed them to the nearest carvery – she was keeping an active list on her phone, colour-coded according to which establishments were ‘weekend-only’ carveries versus which provided leather-meat all week – Shelly brought Sam up to speed on @__________.
‘It’s so twisted. They basically want you to keep performing for them.’ Sam shook his head.
Shelly nodded emphatically. ‘I didn’t understand it at first but that totally is what it seems to be about. Berna, my therapist, says the stalker has a form of addiction. They seem to hate me but need me in equal measure. The thing is they’ve amassed so much on me.’
‘Like what?’ Ali had spent the journey leaning forward with her elbows propped on the front seats lest she miss a single detail.
Shelly shifted uneasily. ‘Stupid stuff like posed photographs.’
‘But everyone does that. It’s Instagram! Anyone who thinks they’re not watching a complete sham probably has some undiagnosed brain injury,’ Ali pointed out.
‘Some of these things are … pretty dishonest. It’d be embarrassing if they came out.’
‘Liiike … ?’ Sam prompted as he pulled into the pub Ali had indicated and she was amused at how invested he was. She’d forgotten about his love of tea-spilling.
‘Well, I lied a bit about breastfeeding. So, there might be misleading pictures on my grid … that were staged. With a doll instead of a baby.’
Ali and Sam snorted in unison.
‘Oh my God! You just snorted,’ Sam roared.
‘So did you! Shut up! OK, so you boobed a doll but that’s not exactly the craziest thing anyone’s lied about on Insta.’ Ali tried to sound soothing.
‘Yeah, Ali knows!’ Sam chimed in as he swung into a parking space.
‘Well, yeah, none of the pictures are as bad as …’ Shelly hesitated then seemed to make up her mind. ‘Well, see for yourselves,’ she said, pulling out her phone and tapping and swiping until she found what she was looking for. She passed it to Ali and Sam. Ali was dying to see what could’ve spooked Shelly so badly, but she was also very, very aware of how close Sam was at that moment. His body just seemed to emanate some undefined aura that called to her, a magnetic pull she found irresistible. Goddamn, it was potent stuff. His shocked exclamation broke the spell.
‘Oh shit! Did you just give your kid—’
‘The finger? Yeah.’ Shelly rolled her eyes. ‘Sometimes they are really asking for it. Give it three years and you two will understand. Ugh, if this got out, it’d be a disaster,’ she said as Sam replayed the clip and Ali shifted her focus, with some difficulty, back to the video and away from the curls of dark hair on his neck.
‘Well, the kid has her back to you,’ Ali noted. ‘She can’t see it. Seems grand to me. Sure, you don’t have to have kids to know that they can be complete pricks. Just go to the supermarket and follow the sound of screaming and you’ll find some bastard kid breaking their mother’s gentle spirit in the cereal aisle.’
‘Yeah!’ Sam chimed in. ‘I was deffo a little shit to my mum. I barely remember her, but I remember her telling me to “go the fuck to sleep” one night! Must’ve worn her way down that day.’
‘C’mon to the meat.’ Ali was antsy. ‘I can focus better when the carvery is locked in.’
Inside the dimly lit pub a Saturday match blared, and the punters gave them barely a glance as they loaded up plates and settled in a pleather banquette in the corner.