‘But you’re not having anything to do with The White House, are you?’ I stared. As far as I knew, this was one pie in the multitudinous Sattar Empire that George didn’t have a finger in.
‘All our businesses are under one umbrella. In the same way, if windows had been put in at St Mede’s school, I’d have informed Kamran and my other brothers. As a family, we’re all in this together.’
‘Then Kamran’ll know St Mede’s windows – according to Robyn – regularly have stones thrown at them.’
‘All the more reason for the place to come down then.’
‘I disagree…’
‘So, what do you think’s going on then?’ George said, coming to a standstill but ignoring my sentiment regarding Robyn’s school. ‘The thing is, a flat tyre is just bad luck. Four flat tyres and you’ve got a problem. Fourslashedtyres and a broken window and someone is trying to tell you something.’
‘Oh, you know about the tyres?’
George nodded.
‘Tell who something?’ I asked when he said nothing further.
‘Us.’
‘Who’sus?’ I stopped walking myself, turning to George.
George tutted. ‘You know – The White House, the Sattars, Fabian Carrington. You.’
‘Me?What have I done wrong?’ I looked at him in surprise.
‘Who knows? Have you pissed anyone off recently?’
‘Apart from my husband? Oh, and my eleven-year-old daughter?’
‘So, perhaps just Fabian then? You don’t think someone is trying to tell Fabian to back off?’
‘Back off from what? The White House?’
‘Jessica, I followed the Soho Slasher case on TV and in the papers like everyone else. There are still a lot of trolls out there who haven’t forgiven Fabian Carrington for taking on the defence of a rich, spoilt, evil kid who had raped and tortured ten women.’
‘But that was a year ago. And in London. He went through hell with protestors constantly outside his apartment door and his chambers, throwing eggs and rotten tomatoes at him, putting dog shit through his letter box. And if someonewastrying to frighten him off, wouldn’t they have wrapped a note round the brick, saying something like:We know where you are… or… or… something?’
‘You’ve been reading too many kids’ comics.’ George smiled and not for the first time, I saw what a lovely face he had when he wasn’t being, well,George. ‘Trolls have long memories,’ he went on. ‘The only pleasure in their sad little lives is causing harassment…’
‘Alarm and distress?’
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s an offence:harassment, alarm and distress.’ I pulled a face, remembering. ‘Dean once ended up taking some woman to the magistrates’ court when she wouldn’t leave him alone, pestered us, sent him hundreds of messages a day, was always parked outside our house. He ended up having to take out a restraining order against her.’
‘In favour of that husband of yours?’ George stared. ‘I can see he’s quite a good-looking little chap, but…’
‘Little chap?’ That made me laugh. ‘Yes, well, quite a few years ago now. He was always starting things with women he fancied and not being able to finish them…’ I trailed off, not wanting to open up about Dean.
‘But you stayed with him? Why?’ George paused. ‘When he’d put you in such an unforgiveable situation? Actually, don’t answer that,’ he went on. ‘I get it.’
‘Really? You get it why I’m such a pushover? No one else does.’ I looked away.
‘When you love someone… you know… I’m sorry.’ George appeared genuinely sorry on my behalf. ‘No one deserves that sort of behaviour…’
‘Jess! Jessica!! Come on, we’re ready.’ Both Serena and Carole Traynor were shouting, waving their sticks at me. ‘Get a move on. Get out on this pitch. Now!’
‘Hell, not a good start.’ I turned towards the waving women, but George put a hand on my hand.
