The boy had been planning to make me fuck him. He’d bragged about it before barging through my door that he was going to do one of Livi’s girls.
He didn’t. I ruptured his testicle, I kneed him that hard.
One of the greatest lies perpetuated was that the upper classes had grace. The boy’s father held a title, a minor one. The boy would inherit that. Pressing charges would trigger media interest and bring a spotlight where no one wanted it to be shone.
Futures would be ruined. Speculation would be made.
None of us would be left innocent.
My dad found out, even though Livi tried to keep it hidden. He went round there, to the boy’s house. Good old Northern justice.
But we didn’t press charges.
I was left with bruises and a fear of locked doors being forced open.
Lala was left with a mountain of guilt.
The boy’s dad was left with a busted nose and a broken jaw.
But no police charges were brought. He got away with it.
It was Lala who found out more about what Marcus had said. He was three years older than us, and had gone to the same school as the boy who’d tried to rape me. Marcus was friends with his older brother, and there had been a night when he’d bragged about us, me and Lala, talked about watching us on holiday or at home, what we did and who we did. Neither of us were virgins, neither of us were anywhere remotely innocent. Livi was far too open from day one, telling us to enjoy ourselves and how to always be safe. She knew what life we were stepping out into, and didn’t want us to be blindsided.
Marcus had bragged, hinted, told the boy where his step-sisters stayed.Encouraged him. Lala found out somehow, told Livi.
Livi had asked her not to tell Dad. She’d speak with Lawrie, and they’d deal with Marcus.
Nothing more was said, until Lala thought too much about it again. I didn’t know what she’d said to Marcus, or what she’d done, although I knew she’d done something.
“Move on, Lala. It’s time.” I leaned back, letting the sun hit my face. “Tell me more about this bar. How good are the cocktails?”
Lala laughed. “I wondered how long that would take. Let’s go tomorrow lunch, eat out in the square and day drink. Livi will be busy planning the menu for this yoga retreat, so she’ll be glad to get rid of us.”
One thing I loved about my sister was how easy it was to redirect her onto something else. “We should go for drinks at The Pines at the weekend too.”
Lala laughed. “We shall. Monty is over this weekend. He’s staying there.”
Monty was one of her model friends with a huge social media presence. He was golden at the moment, in demand by the top fashion houses and brands were paying through the nose to have him associated with their products. He’d sent both me and Lala a watch each as a gift that must’ve cost a cool twenty grand between the two of them.
“It’ll be good to see him.” It would. Monty was a gem. Fun, sincere, beautiful. He knew angles and lighting like he was born with that knowledge, and could charm the birds from the trees and antique jewellery from old women’s purses.
Lala lay down flat on the sand, stretching her arms above her head. “We slept together.”
“You and Monty?”
“Yeah. Me and Monty.” There was a laugh, as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself. “The last time I was in Paris. We went out and ended up, you know, fucking.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I don’t tell you every time I have sex, Jay.” She turned over to look at me.
“I know. If you did, you’d never be off the phone.”
She laughed, loudly. “True. Kind of. I never thought I’d sleep with Monty.”
“I don’t know why.”
“We don’t have chemistry. He’s gorgeous and his body is divine, but he’s almosttoopretty. And we’re friends.” She sounded wistful.
