All The Lonely People - David Owen Page 0,27

the room. ‘I didn’t think you could do worse than the last place.’

‘You never saw our last place, or the place before that.’ Wesley felt his cheeks growing hot. ‘We had to take whatever we could afford after you left.’

No matter where they had been or what they had been through, Wesley had done everything he could to care for his family. He wasn’t worth much, but he was proud of that. It was the only worthwhile thing he had ever done. He wouldn’t let Jordan walk back in and take that away from him.

‘Do you have any idea how hard it was?’ he said. ‘How hard it’s been to look after everyone?’

Jordan snorted. ‘Yeah, you’re clearly doing such a good job.’ He changed then, holding himself taller and moving a little too close. Wesley recognised the brother he used to know.

‘We needed you,’ he said, refusing to back down. ‘And you abandoned us.’

Jordan waved his words away. ‘I didn’t abandon you. It’s not that simple.’

‘It looked that simple from where I was standing.’

Jordan took a breath, ready to retaliate, before biting the words off. He turned away, cramming his hands into his pockets.

The words rose in Wesley’s throat unbidden, and he knew he shouldn’t let them out, knew he was winning and this would make him look weak. But these words had been waiting two years to be spoken and they wouldn’t be stopped now.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Dad?’

‘This again?’ Jordan turned back, face clouding with anger. ‘Why can’t you let it go?’

‘What you told me, after I found out,’ said Wesley. ‘Is that really why he didn’t want to see me?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I want to be part of the family again. Speak to Mum for me, you were always her favourite.’

If that was another way of saying he was soft, Wesley didn’t care. He squared his shoulders and pointed to the door. ‘You should go.’

‘It doesn’t have to be like this, Wes.’

‘Go.’

Jordan nodded, finally looking defeated, until he brushed past to reach the door and stopped in the threshold.

‘No wonder Dad didn’t want anything to do with you.’

Wesley wore his blank expression like a shield. He waited until Jordan banged the door shut behind him before collapsing onto the couch, gasping for air like he had come up from underwater. If he had won that battle, the war was going to be hell.

10

Virtue Signalling

The pizzas arrived just as Wesley had convinced his whole body to stop shaking. He’d forgotten it had been ordered, and it felt like winning the lottery.

‘Reckon you can eat a whole pizza, Eves?’

She nodded enthusiastically, and after she had climbed into the armchair Wesley put the box on her lap, knowing full well she would only manage a couple of slices. That meant there would be plenty left for breakfast.

Before he could sit down with his own pizza a message came through on his phone.

check your email mate.

While Frozen kicked off on the TV, Wesley retrieved the MacBook, setting it beside him on the sofa while he munched a slice of pizza.

He couldn’t bring himself to check his email right away. First he put in earphones to block out the film and started a TrumourPixel video playing.

Next, he opened Facebook and typed ‘Aaron Musley’ into the search bar. He came up immediately. Friends. Wesley almost choked on his pizza. Facebook friends were not the real thing – plenty of people he had never spoken to at school had accepted his friend requests. Still . . . how could he be friends with Aaron here and not remember him at all?

The profile had been inactive for months. No updates, nobody tagging him in anything. Wesley stared at his profile picture. Blonde and blue-eyed, round jaw, grinning like he was the happiest person alive. If they had been at school together, Wesley would remember.

So why didn’t he?

The email subject line read #SJWSlaughter Operations. He recognised the hashtag – it was the rallying cry for a growing online movement that railed against what it called PC culture, as well as decrying feminism and any other social movement calling for progress. A lot of critics called them a hate group, accusing them of spreading fascist propaganda and leading online mobs to attack outspoken women and people of colour.

The movement’s leader was Niko Denton, a young right-wing journalist with a massive online following. His supporters were always desperate to impress him. He always knew what buttons to push to get them riled up, and