Paparazzi by Jo Fenton (best free e reader .txt) 📕

I take a deep breath and open the garage door. I have to get past this.

***

Despite my apprehensions, we have a pleasant and uneventful afternoon, including a wander around the shops, and a play in the amusement arcade. Our walk along the prom hardly affects Matt, who banters cheerfully with Cheryl about football. I’m not desperately into it, but raise sufficient interest in the league positions to join in the discussion. We complete the outing with fish and chips at Harry Ramsden’s.

It’s six-thirty and getting dark by the time we get back to the car. Everyone is rosy-cheeked with the sea breeze and exercise, but I know that reality is lurking under the surface. The radio keeps us going until we get to the M6, with the last half-hour of the charts playing on Capital. But the News again mentions the murder of Troy’s wife, although just briefly, to state that there have been no arrests yet.

“You’re working on that case, aren’t you, Becks?” says Matt.

“Not officially, but we’re helping Finn, or at least, hoping to. It’s early days yet.” The undercurrent is getting closer to the surface, but I’m not sure how or when it will erupt. “Our client is actually a press photographer, who’s been photographing Troy’s band. At this stage we don’t know if there’s a connection.”

“Maybe Dad can help. He seems to be an old hand at investigating.” Cheryl’s tone is bitter.

So here it is. The elephant in the car has woken up. Time to take notice.

“Don’t be angry with him, Chezz. I only found out last week. If someone is helping the government with secret work, they can’t exactly be discussing it with their family. We shouldn’t be discussing it now, either.”

“We’re not. No one’s telling me a damn thing here.”

“There’s nothing to tell, love.” Matt turns his head to talk to her from the passenger seat. I carry on concentrating on the motorway. It’s an unlit stretch, and I need to focus. “I did some work to help with some pharmacy stuff a couple of years ago, and now and then it bobs up and I have to help again. That’s how I met Joanna. She was working on the same project. When she turned up at our house those few weeks ago, I thought something had come back to bite me. It stressed me out, and the hassle that I’d been dealing with at work had been building up. It all crashed in on me.”

“So are you still doing it, Dad? Can’t you quit? You’ve been ill.”

“There are some jobs you can’t quit from. If you want the truth, I’d never have started if I’d known. But you and your mum are not in any danger. Not from my work. And neither is Ali.”

“I’ve got enough trouble at school without this.”

“Wendy’s going to help with that, though, isn’t she?” I decide it’s time to intervene. Cheryl’s sounding hysterical, and it’s not like her.

“Yes, but it’s not fair. Why is everything going wrong just now?”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as it was last summer. We’re all well now, and there’s no immediate threat to any of us.” I’m lying, but it’s my job to protect Cheryl – and just now, it’s better for her not to worry. I catch Matt give me a funny look. He knows me too well, and he saw what state I was in last night.

My phone rings, but I don’t want to answer it in the car. My car media system is not sophisticated enough to show who’s calling, and my phone is in my handbag, so I can’t check. I ignore the call, hoping I can call back. It rings again two minutes later.

“You should answer it, Mum.” As Cheryl says it, the sign for Rivington Services appears. Half a mile to go.

I pull in to the Services, drive into the car park and turn off the engine. I take my phone out of my bag and check the screen for the missed call details. Joanna. Twice.

“Dad and I can get some chocolate while you call back. Come on, Dad.”

Matt rests his hand briefly on my shoulder before he gets out of the car. I wait until they’re halfway across the car park. I’m not sure why, but I have a bad feeling about this call. I get a grip of my fears and press Connect on the screen.

“Becky? Are you okay?”

“Yes, are you? Is Will there?”

“Yeah, he’s here. He came to tell me that his dad’s out of prison and wants to kill me.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Despite the fresh air and exercise, I didn’t sleep well. After finally dozing off sometime around 4am, I wake up at quarter past seven. I promised to take Cheryl into school today. She’s nervous about what will happen this week, and worrying if Wendy will be in time to prevent repercussions.

I’m nervous too. Obviously I’m worried about her, but I’ve spent half the night gnawing at my other fears: Joanna’s ex, Troy, Penny, and my own stalker fears. I still don’t know if they’re justified, or if I’m being paranoid.

The drive into school is quiet except for the radio – and the interminable, inane banter of the morning presenters. I tolerate it for the music, but as soon as Cheryl’s out of the car (with a brief interchange wishing her luck), I switch to one of my CDs: the soundtrack of Evita. I feel stress flowing out of my shoulders almost immediately, and focus for the brief journey home purely on the road ahead and the story of Eva Peron.

At home, I toy with the temptation to go back to bed and get another couple of hours’ sleep, but my phone vibrates. I check it and notice an email has come in from Penny.

‘These are the photos I found. I’ve zipped them to make it easier to send, but there’s no password on the file. There’s nothing particularly private about them. See if you can find anyone