Moderate Violence (19 page)

Ed chewed this over. “So why couldn’t she tell him on
the phone, then?”

“What?” It came out as a whisper. Jo concentrated on
overpowering the tears, trying to sound normal. “How should I know?”

“Look,” he said. “Let’s get this straight. That night,
with the card tricks, Toby was waiting for
Pascale
,
not Holly. Am I missing something?”

“For God’s sake, Ed!” gulped Jo. She swallowed again. “He’s
seeing
both of them
!”

He didn’t speak

“Are you still there?” asked Jo.

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

Jo’s exasperation defeated her tears. “What is there – ”
she began.

“I don’t buy it, Jo,” he interrupted. “I mean, when he
said he was going clubbing, he meant alone, because Holly’s only sixteen, right?”

“But he
isn’t
going clubbing,” said Jo, wondering if flipping burgers all day was affecting
Ed’s brain. “He’s going somewhere with Holly, or else why would she have been
at his house?”

“OK,” said Ed. “So they were dressed to go out, were
they?”

Jo pictured the scene in Toby’s hallway. She saw his
ironed shirt and clean jeans. But what was Holly wearing? Dirtier jeans, and
her red top with the button missing that she’d had for ages. Jo could see her
standing there, winding strands of unwashed hair around her fingers.

Boys
, she thought. Burger-flipping hadn’t affected Ed’s brain at all. He
was using it to approach the situation logically, instead of using his emotions
like Jo herself had done. “Actually,” she admitted, “Toby was, but Holly
wasn’t. She looked a bit scruffy.”

“You mean…as if she’d just called in, as a friend, to
tell him about something she couldn’t tell him on the phone?” suggested Ed.

Jo knew he didn’t mean to incense her, but she was
incensed nevertheless. “Ed, he’s
my
boyfriend
!” she protested. “She can’t just go round and see him
whenever she likes, and have secrets with him, can she?” She hoped she wasn’t
whining, but knew she probably was. “It’s not fair! It’s not even normal!”

“You sound well pissed off,” observed Ed, with something
between admiration and trepidation.

“Pissed off?” The whining had become a screech. “I wish
they were both
dead
!”

She could hear his hesitation – an intake of breath, a
moment’s decision-making, the application, perhaps, of more logic. “But you were
telling me yesterday,” he said, “how much you love Holly, and you were in
Reception with her and all that. You don’t really wish she was dead, you just
need to sort this out.”

Jo’s throat closed up. She couldn’t speak.

“Look,” he said, “forget trying to work out what
they’re doing for a minute. When will you see him again?”

“Thursday.” The word emerged squeakily, as if she had
to force it out.

“Well, it’s only Monday today,” said Ed. “Anything can
happen by Thursday. You know Holly, she’s so bloody moral, she’s probably
emailing you a full confession right now. If there’s anything to confess,” he
added reasonably.

Jo was sure there was. Ed hadn’t seen the looks that
had passed between Toby and Holly, or felt the shock-waves coming from them
when she – harmless little Jo – had lost her temper and pushed Toby over.

“OK,” she said meekly. She might as well let Ed think
he was right.

He picked up the meekness. “Are you all right?” he
asked. “I mean, I’m not trying to, you know, dismiss this like it’s nothing. I
just think it might be more innocent than you think, and you shouldn’t beat
yourself up about it.”

“Thanks,” said Jo. “I’ll try not to.”

“And you don’t have to worry about fixing a double date
with me and Pascale any more, either,” he added. “I’ll deal with her.”

He was right. The discovery of Toby’s little liaison
with Holly, innocent or not, had changed the plan. Jo recovered a nearly-normal
voice. “What are you going to do?”

“Short of murdering her?” Ed gave a little laugh. “I’ll
think of something. It’ll give me something to occupy my mind when I’m on my
three hundredth burger-flip.”

* * * * * *

After work the following evening, Jo opened
the list of DVD labels. It had to change
,
obviously, after recent events. Pascale was leaning more towards horror than
sex. And Ed’s honesty had complicated him. He wasn’t Pascale’s drooling poodle
any more. In fact, Jo had begun to realize this at the Summer Ball, though
she’d left his label as ‘Strong sex references’ for other reasons then. There
was
more to him than that. But did it
have a label?

That was the problem with DVD guidance labels. The
pithy, direct phrases appealed to her because they were so simple. Yet they
were too simple for subtlety, and Ed had turned out to be a bit more complex. Equally,
how could Holly go on being ‘Fairly adult’? ‘Extremely puerile’ just about
summed up her behaviour last night. But that wasn’t a phrase you were likely to
find on a DVD case, even
Jackass – The Movie
.

And what about Toby? ‘Suitable for all’ couldn’t appear
on the same DVD as ‘Scenes of sex and violence’, but they nestled together
convincingly in Toby. Jo wished there was a label to show you that the film
contained barefaced, criminal betrayal. A sort of heartbreak indicator. Instead
of three stars, three broken hearts.

She went back to Ed’s name and deleted ‘Strong sex
references’ from beside it. She searched the pile of DVDs, first with her eyes
then with her hands. Then she went downstairs and pulled out every DVD Trevor
had left and every one Tess had brought.
Sleepless
in Seattle
– romance between Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.
You’ve Got Mail
– romance between Meg Ryan
and Tom Hanks.
Proof of Life
–
romance between Meg Ryan and Russell Crowe. Maybe Tess wished she was Meg Ryan.
But none of Meg’s films turned up a suitable label for Ed.

Jo looked at the clock above the mantelpiece. It was
fourteen minutes to eight. Tess had been upstairs getting ready to go out, and
was now bustling in the kitchen. The smell of her perfume filled the sitting-room
even though the French windows were open. Discontentedly, Jo returned to the
DVDs.

Trevor’s little collection of left-behinds looked more
promising. She turned over
The Deer Hunter
,
Patriot Games
and
Casino Royale
. Nothing. Then
Enemy of the State
caught her eye. Rated
15, nothing new there. But its Theme/Content listing was ‘Conspiracy’.

The word stunned her. That was
exactly
what the Toby-Pascale-Holly thing
was. An anti-Jo conspiracy. Her heart constricted, like a fist clenching. Why
would they want to conspire against her? What had she ever done to them?

“Jo-oh! Where are you?” called Tess.

“Sitting room!”

Tess opened the door and swung it a little as she
spoke. She had her car keys in her hand. “I’m just off, darling. There’s some
cold chicken and a pack of salad in the fridge for your dinner. I won’t be
late.”

“Where are you going?”

“Erica’s having a little gathering.” She held up a
bottle of wine. “This is my contribution, but I promise I won’t drink too much
to drive home.”

Jo smiled weakly, unsure if this was a dig at Trevor. She
imagined Tess’s friends with their blonde highlights and crimson claws, nodding
sympathetically as they listened to Tess’s account of the hell of living with a
teenager, ready to cap her stories with stories of their own. “See you, then. Have
fun.”

“Don’t forget to lock up with the mortice key when you
go to bed,” said Tess. This, Jo knew, was code for, “I’ll be very, very late.”

The front door closed, and Jo heard the over-revving
that was Tess’s method of starting a car. She was hungry; chicken and salad
sounded good. But just as she reached the kitchen door, the front doorbell
rang, and she swerved back to answer it. Through the decorated glass she saw
the blurred dark shape of Pascale’s tumbling hair.

Pascale
?

When she opened the door the sight of her friend’s
inscrutable smile disturbed her. Pascale was so smooth, so knowledgeable and
confident, it seemed impossible that she could deceive Jo. She had, though. And
she still was. Clearly, Ed hadn’t yet done anything.

“Hey, little Jo!” Pascale held up a bottle of wine,
cheaper and bigger than Tess’s. “God, the
lads
in Marbella! You and me and Hol have
got
to go there next year, on our own. Strictly no parents.”

She strode into the hall, put her jacket over the
banister post and turned to Jo with a can-you-believe-it face. “What about
Holly and Toby, then? I nearly wet my pants when Ed told me. Jeez, how much
scent are you wearing? It smells like a bloody brothel in here.”

So Ed
had
done something. He’d told her about Toby and Holly, in the hope of extracting
both outrage and a confession from Pascale. But he hadn’t succeeded. Bewilderingly,
Pascale didn’t even suspect them. “Must be Tess’s,” said Jo weakly. “She’s just
gone out.”

Pascale flopped down on the sofa. Jo didn’t sit beside
her, but took Trevor’s armchair instead, with her feet drawn up underneath her.

“I sometimes think Holly’s a sandwich short of a
picnic,” declared Pascale. She blew out some air between pursed lips. “I mean,
you’d think she’d tell you if she’s been having jolly little get-togethers with
your boyfriend. And how could she keep it from
me
?”

Keeping it from Pascale would constitute mental
instability, certainly. Faint with astonishment, Jo tried to process what she
was hearing. Pascale was surely scaling new heights of shamelessness. To arrive
uninvited at Jo’s ready to gossip about Holly’s questionable behaviour, when
all the time
she
was guilty too,
was beyond belief.

Jo tried to take control. She decided to make Pacale
sweat a little. “You don’t think they’re…you know…”

“Toby and Holly?” snorted Pascale. “For God’s sake, Jo,
Doctor Pascale can smell a two-timer a mile off, and believe me, Toby’s fine. And
you know what Saint Holly’s like.”

Jo’s astonishment increased. She looked at Pascale
carefully, noticing how beautifully her newly-tanned skin glowed, and how
glossy her hair was. “But it
is
weird,” she persevered, “Holly being in his house like that. You just said, you
nearly wet your pants when Ed told you.”

“I was so amazed at Holly going round there without
you! She’s not exactly the world subterfuge champion. Ooh!” Suddenly, her face
brightened, and she sat forward eagerly. “Maybe they were planning something to
do for
you
!” Her face fell again.
“It’s not your birthday till April, though, is it?”

“Pascale…” Jo had come to the end of her patience. “It’s
obvious that Toby’s cheating on me with Holly. Why can’t you see that?”

Pascale’s brown eyes focused sharply on Jo’s face. “Because
it isn’t happening. Holly doesn’t do things like that.” Her expression became
sympathetic. “Oh, Jo, if you suspect he’s cheating on you, it must be with some
other girl!”

Jo didn’t trust herself to reply. Hearing Blod mewing
on the front windowsill, she went and pulled the window up. “Come on in, you
silly old sod. The back door’s open, you know.”

“Jo…” persisted Pascale. She rested her head on the
sofa cushion, looking at Jo from between eyelids half-shut with suspicion. “What’s
up?”

“Nothing’s
up
,”
said Jo, stroking Blod methodically. “Forget it. Maybe I shouldn’t try to work
out what Holly’s doing or why she’s doing it. I just mean that…well, you know
what Toby’s like. It’s not very easy to trust him.”

Pascale nodded wisely. “He’s always been a bit
slippery, that’s true.”

“In fact…” said Jo uncertainly. She had suddenly
realized that the way to the truth was through Pascale’s self-appointment as
resident Agony Aunt. “Toby’s been so peculiar lately, I just don’t know what to
do. And you always help.”