Runt had been his favourite name for me for as long as I could remember.
“You’re living with the guy. There’s no other reason for him to move you in there.”
“I’m a teacher, Dad,” I told him, something he already knew. “His son has dyslexia. You know that I teach additional needs and I...”
Dad’s snort cut me off. “Even if his kid is a total no-hoper, he’s not going to move you into his house without fucking you.”
“Dad, it’s not like that. I?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped. “Listen to me. You’re a part of this family, Clara. You owe us loyalty. You know that. So far, you’ve been a useless piece of shit in terms of helping us. But you fucking that barrister changes things. I have to say, when we engineered to have your Mr High-and-Mighty Law Maker prosecute Freddie, we didn’t realise just how good a play that would turn out to be. I mean, we knew you taught the bloke’s kid and hoped you might be able to pull some info for us, but I would never have believed you had it in you to fuck the guy.”
I blinked at him, my whole body going cold now, no longer able to control the shaking in my hands despite them being still clenched into fists under the table. I knew that my father had a number of corrupt police officers (or grasshoppers as they were known in Dad’s circles – coppers who liked to grass) in his pocket, but I had no idea the corruption went high up enough for him to be able to influence the choice of prosecuting barrister for hisson.
“It’s time for you to step up,” Dad said, a sly grin forming on his lips. “It’s time for you to do something useful for the family for a change. Your brother’s going to need the prosecution to go easy on him, and maybe your Lord Sterling needs a bit of…persuasion.”
I had no idea what sort of “persuasion” my father was talking about, but I felt like I was going to vomit. Somehow even me just being near Rafe had infected him with my family’s bullshit.
“He d-doesn’t discuss his work with me, Dad,” I said in a rush. “There’s no way of me being useful to any of you. He doesn’t allow me that k-kind of access.”
Dad smirked, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his barrel chest, causing the muscles in his biceps to flex. I eyed his fisted hands warily; flashbacks of one of them driving into the side of my head ran through my mind. I had to swallow down another lot of bile at the sudden surge of fear.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You don’t have to steal any information. Just stay in that house for now and keep fucking him. We’ll let you know when you can be useful.”
I swallowed again and forced myself to speak past the lump that had formed in my throat.
“I’m not going to help you with this, Dad,” I said, just above a whisper. “I can’t. You’ll have to think of another angle.”
I let out a small squeak when anger flashed through my father’s eyes and his fist crashed down on the table. “You’ll do as I fucking well say!” he shouted. My eyes stung with tears but I held them back. Crying only made Dad angrier. He leaned forward on the table towards me, and I leaned back in my chair in response.
When he spoke again, he was no longer shouting, butthe danger in his voice was even more evident. “It would be a shame if Zach decided to drop out of school,” he said softly and my heart dropped. Dad shrugged. “Happens though. Happens all the time. You know, kids like that, they get in with a bad crowd. Drugs, alcohol.”
My brother had never taken even a sip of alcohol before in his life. And the idea of him taking drugs was completely laughable.
“They go off the rails,” Dad continued. “Run away from home. Disappear. You know, there’s never really any questions asked, is there?”
I felt the blood drain out of my face, and for the second time that week, my shoulders slumped in defeat. I looked down at my hands for a moment, acknowledging that, yet again, I didn’t have any choices. I was powerless. Eventually, I managed to look up and meet my father’s steady gaze to whisper, “What do you want me to do?”
Chapter 25
I’m here. I’m yours
Rafe
It was beyond a joke now.Clara had completely withdrawn from me. Since the night she went to meet her friend, who she still wouldn’t tell me about, she’d retreated right back into her shell, barely speaking or eating, flinching away every time I reached for her. She didn’t sleep in my bed any longer, and she was even muttering about returning to her dilapidated flat. Her interactions with Ozzie were the only glimpses I had of the old Clara. She put on a good show for him, but I guessed this was ingrained in her due to her career as a teacher. And I knew first-hand how important it was to her that children weren’t let down by the adults in their lives.
I had this awful sinking feeling that something bad was going to happen. The only explanation I could think of was that she was planning to go back to whatever arsehole beat her up. After a week of Silent Clara, I begged her to tell me what was happening, but all she’d say was that she “didn’t think this was working for her”.
“Please, baby,” I’d begged. “Please just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Of course you don’t have to be with me if you’ve changed your mind about us, but please, tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me, Clara.” Even when my voice cracked and I was near tears with worry, she wouldn’t make eye contact. And when she did, her expression was completely blank.
So tonight, I was going to shock her out of it. It was the Sterling charity gala that Poppy had organised. The one I’d asked Clara repeatedly if she’d go to with me. Even before Clara had retreated completely, she had been adamant that she wouldn’t come, citing Ozzie as an excuse, which was total bullshit. Ozzie wasn’t a stupid child; he knew that I was with Clara. He’d even asked me the other night if she was going to live with us forever, and I told him if I could convince her, then yes. And even though Clara put on a good show for him this week, Ozzie could tell something had changed.
Last night, he had been about to drop off when he’d said sleepily, “Okay, Dad, she likes Branston Pickle and she likes reading and she likesme, so maybe you could, you know, use that stuff to get her to stay.”
Ozzie giving me tips on how to keep my girlfriend was a new low, but her withdrawal was making him anxious. If Clara’s aim was to protect Ozzie, then her pulling away from both of us was not going to achieve it. But for some reason, she just couldn’t see that, and I’d had enough.
IknewClara cared about me, and I was going to show her what would happen if she continued to withdraw from me. Ozzie was at Sophia’s and, seeing as Clara wouldn’t accompany me to the gala, I’d found someone else who was only too happy to.
But now that Ophelia had arrived, I was realising Imight have made an error of judgement. The glamorous blonde swept into the kitchen in her designer dress, totally ignoring Poppy and Clara to drape herself over me. She even went in for a kiss, which I only managed to partially duck at the last second, but she still caught the corner of my mouth, her cloying perfume making me feel a little ill.
