chance she will open an email attachment from us and then bingo I can stick a keystroke programme on her computer.’
It felt wrong but Erasmus was fresh out of ideas. There was no chance of getting Rebecca sectioned, she was a morose teenage girl who cut herself, join the back of a very long queue. He had thought of talking to Rebecca directly, as a family friend, but Karen had been clear that he would get nothing from her and if she thought her mother had been talking to ‘strangers’ about this then things could get worse very quickly. Karen’s biggest fear was Rebecca running away and then she would have no possibility of helping her. Covert could be the only way to go.
‘How would we do it?’
Pete had finished his pint and was already looking at Erasmus’s nearly full drink with a weary look.
‘Leave it to me. I’ll set up a dummy Facebook account. I’m thinking eighteen-year-old boy, thin and moody with dark good looks, with all the right cultural references, reads the right books, think less your generation and Sartre, and more now and vampires. This guy has interests but he doesn’t see the point of it all though. Classic teenage angst and good lucks, what girl could resist? What do you think?’
‘Sounds like you fancy him yourself but she’s got a boyfriend already, Ethan. Your sock puppet will need to be someone else. What do teenage girls like.’
Pete thought hard for a moment. ‘You know what we need to do?’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, what we need to do is think of you.’
Erasmus wasn’t sure where Pete was going with this.
‘Yeah, think of me.’
‘Yeah, think of you as the gawky, spotty, awkward teenage kid with really bad dress sense and then we want to imagine the exact opposite, that’s what teenage girls like.’ Pete leaned back in his chair chuckling at his own joke.
Erasmus smiled.
‘Christ, why are we friends?’
Pete laughed again.
‘Low expectations and no one else would have us?’
‘You’re not wrong,’ replied Erasmus. ‘You want a pint?’
‘Does the Pope wear a hat?’
Truth was that Erasmus didn’t know what to think. Part of him was convinced that this was just part of parcel of normal teenage behaviour, a rite of passage that most of them got through and looked back on, incredulous and embarrassed, a few years later. The communication medium had changed since his day but the dynamic of growing up and the changes it wrought were just the same. Some fell by the wayside and wasn’t it ever so?
Yet, what Karen had told him about the bath and the blade had unnerved him. The internet and the contact it permitted with those of the same mindset at any hour of the day made the space to think, to rationalise and see alternatives smaller. And then there was Karen. She had been distraught, anxious maybe a little paranoid but it was still her. The woman he loved, had loved, all those years ago and the fear she had was real.
‘Are you alive, love, or did someone take your batteries out?’
There was laughter from the people around him as the barmaid stood with her hands on her hips giving him a cockeyed look.
‘Sorry, two pints of Landlord.’
Erasmus ferried the pints back to Pete and then went outside for a cigarette.
It was a habit he had been trying to give up for twenty years and the army hadn’t been the best environment for that. He pulled out a Malboro light. A late afternoon fog had fallen and the street was quiet apart from some dark figures, hunched over against the cold, some fifty yards away down towards Paddy’s Wigwam.
He sucked in the smoke, guilt and pleasure tussling for victory as usual.
A thought that he had been pushing away inside his mind took advantage of the space created by the beer and nicotine. Karen was single. What if?
His mobile began to vibrate. He pulled out his phone, maybe it was her? What if she was thinking the same thing?
It wasn’t, it was an unknown caller.
‘Erasmus,’ he answered.
‘Hey Erasmus, it’s
It felt wrong but Erasmus was fresh out of ideas. There was no chance of getting Rebecca sectioned, she was a morose teenage girl who cut herself, join the back of a very long queue. He had thought of talking to Rebecca directly, as a family friend, but Karen had been clear that he would get nothing from her and if she thought her mother had been talking to ‘strangers’ about this then things could get worse very quickly. Karen’s biggest fear was Rebecca running away and then she would have no possibility of helping her. Covert could be the only way to go.
‘How would we do it?’
Pete had finished his pint and was already looking at Erasmus’s nearly full drink with a weary look.
‘Leave it to me. I’ll set up a dummy Facebook account. I’m thinking eighteen-year-old boy, thin and moody with dark good looks, with all the right cultural references, reads the right books, think less your generation and Sartre, and more now and vampires. This guy has interests but he doesn’t see the point of it all though. Classic teenage angst and good lucks, what girl could resist? What do you think?’
‘Sounds like you fancy him yourself but she’s got a boyfriend already, Ethan. Your sock puppet will need to be someone else. What do teenage girls like.’
Pete thought hard for a moment. ‘You know what we need to do?’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, what we need to do is think of you.’
Erasmus wasn’t sure where Pete was going with this.
‘Yeah, think of me.’
‘Yeah, think of you as the gawky, spotty, awkward teenage kid with really bad dress sense and then we want to imagine the exact opposite, that’s what teenage girls like.’ Pete leaned back in his chair chuckling at his own joke.
Erasmus smiled.
‘Christ, why are we friends?’
Pete laughed again.
‘Low expectations and no one else would have us?’
‘You’re not wrong,’ replied Erasmus. ‘You want a pint?’
‘Does the Pope wear a hat?’
Truth was that Erasmus didn’t know what to think. Part of him was convinced that this was just part of parcel of normal teenage behaviour, a rite of passage that most of them got through and looked back on, incredulous and embarrassed, a few years later. The communication medium had changed since his day but the dynamic of growing up and the changes it wrought were just the same. Some fell by the wayside and wasn’t it ever so?
Yet, what Karen had told him about the bath and the blade had unnerved him. The internet and the contact it permitted with those of the same mindset at any hour of the day made the space to think, to rationalise and see alternatives smaller. And then there was Karen. She had been distraught, anxious maybe a little paranoid but it was still her. The woman he loved, had loved, all those years ago and the fear she had was real.
‘Are you alive, love, or did someone take your batteries out?’
There was laughter from the people around him as the barmaid stood with her hands on her hips giving him a cockeyed look.
‘Sorry, two pints of Landlord.’
Erasmus ferried the pints back to Pete and then went outside for a cigarette.
It was a habit he had been trying to give up for twenty years and the army hadn’t been the best environment for that. He pulled out a Malboro light. A late afternoon fog had fallen and the street was quiet apart from some dark figures, hunched over against the cold, some fifty yards away down towards Paddy’s Wigwam.
He sucked in the smoke, guilt and pleasure tussling for victory as usual.
A thought that he had been pushing away inside his mind took advantage of the space created by the beer and nicotine. Karen was single. What if?
His mobile began to vibrate. He pulled out his phone, maybe it was her? What if she was thinking the same thing?
It wasn’t, it was an unknown caller.
‘Erasmus,’ he answered.
‘Hey Erasmus, it’s
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