Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,91
out, it seemed even more important. Surely, I thought as I drifted off, there weren’t that many people who would want to know anyway.
The next morning, there was a queue of fifty.
Simon came to tell me while Anne and I were having breakfast. Well, Anne was — I only managed to sip some tea.
“There are a lot of people here today, Jem.”
It was just what I didn’t want to hear. I was tired, I felt really rotten, and besides, I only wanted to know about one visitor — today they had to bring Spider back to me.
“What do they expect me to do? I’m a kid.”
He shrugged. “We can keep them away from you. Our team here can counsel them.”
Anne agreed. “That’s right. We’re used to dealing with people in crisis. When I’ve cleaned up in here, I’ll come out and help.”
She looked so ordinary, standing there: crewneck sweater, corduroy skirt, boots, and short, horrible permed hair. But she wasn’t ordinary. She was prepared to sit all day and hear other people’s terror as she struggled with her own. Even I couldn’t scoff at that. Respect. It was more than I would be able to manage.
“Whatever. I can’t see them. I don’t want to. I’ve got nothing to say to them.”
“That’s fine. We’ll deal with it.” Simon disappeared to make the arrangements. Anne pottered about, washing up the cups and her breakfast dishes.
“Jem,” she said, “you need to think about what happens next. Where you want to go. This isn’t the ideal place to stay.”
“I know what I want to happen — I want some time with my friend. And then…and then, I dunno…” The truth was I’d stopped even thinking about life after the fifteenth. After today.
“Karen will be here soon — I think the consensus is that you should go back home with her. She can help you through all the legal stuff, if they decide to bring charges. She knows you, Jem. She really cares.”
“I’m not going back to Karen’s.”
“You’re fifteen, Jem. You’re not old enough to be out there on your own. Not yet.”
“Please, can we not get into this? I don’t know what I’m doing until Spider gets here.”
I suddenly realized I hadn’t had a proper wash since my shower at Britney’s. I wanted to look nice for him. I took myself off into the little cloakroom, stripped down, and washed as best I could with soap and water from the sink. At least I could be clean, even if I was still stuck in Britney’s slightly-too-large clothes. It woke me up, too, that wash — I got rid of that sickly, worn-out feeling. I couldn’t wait to see him now — I’d never looked forward to anything so much in my life.
Back in the vestry, Karen had reappeared. As I emerged from the cloakroom with bare feet and a towel ’round my head, she came over to hug me. “Jem, how are you? You’re looking a bit better than last time.”
She held me away from her, but kept both hands on my shoulders. “People out there are desperate to see you. It’s all gone crazy, but I think you should think carefully before doing anything, because —”
She didn’t get a chance to finish because at that moment the door from the abbey burst open and a blingy middle-aged bloke breezed in, making a beeline straight for me.
“Hi, Jem, good to meet you. Vic Lovell.” He strode across the room with his hand thrust out, practically shouldered Karen out of the way, grabbed my hand, and shook it vigorously. Instantly, the room was full of him — his presence, his energy. He wasn’t after my help. He was after something else.
He started talking even before he took off his coat. “Now, Jem, I’m here to talk to you about your future, which is looking very bright indeed. I’ve had some amazing offers coming in for you, and if we play this carefully, you can be set up for life. Literally. We’ve got print, radio, and TV interviews lined up. I’m certain we can get a major magazine deal. This will cover the next couple of months, and then we need to get a book out, and there are already publishers desperate to talk to you. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t expect you to sit and write it, there’s people who can help — you just need to talk to them and they do the rest. But the important thing is that I need you to sign