All The Lonely People - David Owen Page 0,7

had expected to feel in some way different when the attack was over. It should have proved that he wasn’t soft, that he could act like Tru said men were supposed to. The trolling campaign had been a success, but instead of basking in triumph alongside Luke and Justin he was still stuck here washing cars. He was still himself. Hopefully they had reported their success to TrumourPixel by now. He wasn’t sure exactly what might come next, but it had to be better than this.

Thinking of Kat made his stomach drop, like an airlock opening. He couldn’t shake the thought that the effects of their attack had been worse than intended.

Behind him, hanging on a hook in the dealership office, was Kat’s bag and MacBook. It would offer some answers. The more Wesley tried not to think about it, the more he needed to uncover the truth.

Kat woke inside the sweaty cavern of the duvet pulled over her head. Somebody was knocking on her bedroom door.

‘Are you coming down for dinner?’ said Dad.

The door was locked, and she knew giving no response would quickly make him give up. She couldn’t risk him seeing what had happened. Against all reason she felt embarrassed, as if she was to blame. On the way home she had kept her head down and walked quickly, determinedly not noticing if anybody was noticing.

If there was something wrong. She was still hoping the whole affair was some kind of hallucinatory panic attack. She couldn’t bring herself to check. She had fallen asleep while watching Tinker videos to comfort herself.

‘You need to eat,’ said Dad.

This was how he went through the motions: meals cooked, clothes washed, schoolwork checked. If he did what was expected of him, and she played along, they could both avoid ever acknowledging that the last year had reduced them to little more than strangers.

‘I’ll put it in the oven so it stays warm,’ said Dad.

Kat listened to his feet padding down the stairs and drew the duvet tighter to her skin, willing herself to sleep again so that waking afresh would chase the nightmare away.

There was no denying the iridescent shine of the paintwork after the second coat of wax. Wesley stood back while Dave circled the car, checking for any spots they’d missed. There was an ember inside him, smouldering guiltily in the dark. It felt dangerously like pride. Wesley quickly stamped it out.

‘Real boy racer car, this. You thinking of learning any time soon?’

‘I can’t even think about affording it.’

Dave nodded, leaving Wesley to wonder if he knew how tough they’d had it during the last couple of years. Mum’s zero hours contract, which meant they could never know how much money they’d have, was no secret. It seemed less likely Dave knew about having to outstay their welcome with friends and boyfriends because they had nowhere else to go, or the queues at the Salvation Army food bank, or shopping for his half-sister Evie’s clothes in charity shops so they could afford nursery a few days a week. If he knew all of that, Wesley wasn’t so sure he’d have stuck around.

‘What else needs cleaning?’ said Wesley, looking around at the assortment of cars on show. They all looked clean enough already. Mum had insisted Dave was shorthanded, but Wesley suspected otherwise.

‘I see what you’re thinking,’ said Dave. ‘That you’re only here cos your mum bullied me into it. It’s not true. Yeah, I’m happy to help you out. But it takes a lot of work keeping every car presentable. I don’t care about horsepower and nought-to-sixty or any of that. The real magic is in a properly clean motor, like you’re paying proper homage to the peak of human ingenuity.’

Wesley looked at him like he was mad, but he kept the smile off his face; Dave clearly believed every word.

Dave grinned back. ‘Come on, look around and tell me it’s not a glorious sight worth maintaining.’

Near the office door, tucked back in the second row, was a silver BMW that had caught Wesley’s eye as soon as he arrived. He knew nothing about cars except that this was the sort of thing he should be driving one day.

Dave followed his gaze, and his grin turned mischievous. ‘Wait here a tick.’

He slipped into the office and opened the wall-mounted lock box where all the keys were kept, returning with a fresh set. A button press made the BMW’s lights flash and doors click open. Dave tossed the keys to