‘Mel, that’s ridiculous. I invited her. Natasha and her nice young man came to my show. I asked her to call and she called. Simple as that.’
This was worse. Mel’s blood was rising, dark and furious. Not only a cheat and a liar, but a manipulator, deliberately fooling Isabel into inviting her in. And all the time Natasha was sitting in the chair as if she owned the place. Mel had intended to give her a chance, to wait to hear what she had to say. But now all she could think was that Natasha needed to go and the sooner she left the better.
‘Get out,’ she said.
Natasha stood up. As she stood Mel noticed for the first time that she was wearing her mother’s ring. ‘And before you do that, you better give my mother back her ring. And anything else you’ve tried to filch.’
‘I’ll go and change, Isabel,’ said Natasha, ignoring the accusation about the ring. And she left the room, walking too close to Mel who pulled back swiftly, unwilling to breathe the same perfume filled air.
‘Poor girl. She’s not at all well,’ murmured Isabel.
Mel wondered about the diabetes. Was that too a lie, fabricated to provoke attention and sympathy? How could you be sure? She remembered the calloused fingertips. But she hadn’t noticed them since that first occasion.
‘Why is she wearing your ring?’
‘I gave it to her. It matches the outfit.’
‘You gave it to her?’ Mel was incredulous.
‘Just for today.’
‘Mum, I’ll tell you everything later. Natasha is not what she seems. I need to go upstairs and make sure she isn’t taking anything else.’
There was more she needed to say to Natasha and she didn’t want her mother to hear. Whatever Natasha did now, Mel wouldn’t let her get away without knowing the damage she had caused.
Mel ran upstairs and into the spare bedroom.
‘Don’t worry, Mel, I’m going.’ said Natasha. She was standing in her stockinged feet and her own clothes. The green suit was on the bed. The platform shoes were lined up on the carpet with the rest of Darcy Black’s footwear. She looked tired, but her expression was calm, and she gazed at Mel as if she were a mild irritant, a traffic warden or an over-zealous ticket inspector. She was still wearing the ring.
‘Take off the ring,’ ordered Mel.
Slowly Natasha pulled off the ring, laying it on the dressing table next to a leopard brooch and the earrings she’d been wearing. Mel had been so appalled to see her that she had not even noticed till now that every piece of jewellery she had on belonged to her mother.
Natasha spoke. ‘Mel, please don’t concern yourself. I’ll go.’
It was important to stay calm. Professionalism was kicking in. So far there had been nothing criminal. But she needed to know. Jacob was sixteen. It was the age of consent. But he was still a child. ‘There’s one more thing,’ said Mel. And try as she might to remain controlled, she could not stem the anger. ‘What the fuck were you doing messing with Jacob?’ Natasha didn’t reply. The smile which looked like a smirk returned. Mel continued. ‘Oh I know you’re a crazy bitch. I know you’re a thief and a liar. I know you like to meddle in other people’s lives. I could forgive all that. I could even forgive you telling the world about my private life. What I can never do is forgive you interfering with my son.’
‘Interfering’s a loaded word,’ said Natasha. The smile had disappeared and now she was looking hard at Mel as she took a step towards her and whispered, ‘You want to keep an eye on that kid.’
‘What are you implying?’
‘Though there’s not much you can do to stop him. The internet’s a freeway to the world. You won’t be able to hold him back if he wants to put himself about. The pictures are out now. Nothing anyone can do. I could show you if you like.’
Mel stood transfixed. So, there were pictures. She had feared as much. And though she didn’t want to see, she needed to know what Jacob had done. Her insides were churning as Natasha reached in her bag for her phone.
‘You might as well learn what your boy’s up to.’ Natasha held up the screen. Unable to prevent herself, Mel took a step forward for a better view. Jacob was lounging on the old coffee stained sofa in his room. He wore no clothes, but one of their family bath towels was draped around his narrow hips. He must have been holding the phone with his other arm on that selfie stick his dad had given him. Part of her wanted to laugh. It was so absurd. Her child pretending to be an adult. But it was also horrifying. He was so vulnerable. She looked quickly away.
‘Course there’s plenty more. I’m sure Jacob wouldn’t want you to see those, but since you seem so interested I’ll dig them out for you. I’ve tucked them away. Didn’t want my boyfriend finding them. Like I explained to Jacob, I’ve saved them on a cloud too.’ Natasha was still holding up the phone, still smiling. Behind the smile was something frightening, an inhuman light in those brilliant green eyes.
And now she was swiping through the pictures as casually as if she were about to show a holiday snap to a friend. Then she stopped and turned to face Mel.
‘Nice body’, she murmured, as she held up the phone for a second time.
The pose was the same, languid, provocative, though the facial expression was different. The innocence had vanished. The eyelids were lowered, the mouth was slightly open. But that was not the only change. The small towel, that modest covering, had been removed.
Mel squeezed her eyes shut, unable to believe what she was seeing. She took a deep breath before opening them again, forcing herself to look at what she had already seen but had been powerless to absorb. It was true. The smile was one she had never seen in him. Her son had done what she had most feared and she could no longer protect him. She quickly averted her eyes again.
At that moment her mother’s voice rang through the air, echoing round Mel’s head, ‘No, no, she’s not well.’
But there was only one way Mel could respond to what she had seen.
She hurled herself at Natasha, pushing her backwards, causing her to lose her footing and trip across the rows of shoes which had been left on the floor. Natasha’s body, which had been falling back, twisted sideways. And in that moment Mel thought she heard her mother’s voice, but the words were inaudible and interrupted by a terrible smashing sound as Natasha’s head struck the glass edge of the kidney-shaped dressing table.
Mel’s pupil lay on her side on the floor. Her hair had fallen over her face. Mel stared. Anger was churning inside her, urging her to lash out again, hurt her properly, silence her forever. Part of her had expected Natasha to fight back. Then she heard her mother’s voice again. ‘No, Mel.’
She turned towards the sound. Isabel was standing in the doorway, supporting herself on the door jamb, eyes wide in her wrinkled handsome face. What had she seen? And what was she asking Mel to do? Not to hurt Natasha or not to help her? Whatever it was, Mel was frozen into obedience as she looked away from her mother to Natasha’s body lying motionless on the floor.
Isabel let go of the door jamb and moved slowly to where Natasha lay. Out of the corner of her eye Mel saw her lower herself with difficulty to her knees and lift several strands of blonde hair from the pale, expressionless face. Natasha’s eyes were closed, one side of her face was perfect and unharmed, but blood was pooling on her crown, dripping onto her forehead, meandering in slow rivulets down her left cheek.