Page 71 of Breaking the Dark

She gets to her feet and locates her phone. She turns it on, but the screen stays black.

“Oh,” she says to herself. And then she can’t remember why she needed her phone anyway.

“How are you feeling, Jessica?” asks Debra.

“Great, yeah. Perfect.”

“Excellent. I’m so pleased. Do help yourself to more food.”

“Yes. Yes, I will. Debra. Do you have any old movies?”

“Yes! Of course! What did you fancy?”

“Do you have Pretty in Pink?”

“Pretty in Pink? Coming right up. Why don’t you go and get yourself another hot chocolate. And there’s popcorn in the cupboard too. Stick some in the microwave.”

Jessica smiles. “Yes,” she says. “Good idea. Sounds perfect.”

“I’m glad you picked Pretty in Pink. It’s one of my favorites. The eighties, Jessica, really were the best decade. People talk about the nineties, don’t they? And the sixties. But I disagree. And I should know.”

Eight years ago

Farnham, Surrey, UK

Hi begins the DM that will destroy Polly’s life. I’ve just received two of your products, Pore Magic, and Visage Magic. I’m amazed by how effective they are, seriously. I don’t know why they’re not famous! We should be seeing this stuff everywhere! I have over 250k followers and would love to feature your products in my page. But out of a duty of care to my followers I can only feature licensed products and I can’t find anything about Beauty X online. Anyway, I passed on the serums to my father-in-law, who works in pharmaceuticals. He’s had both products tested and he just called me to say that he’s found some troubling components? I don’t know if you’re aware of this? But he said the products contain like traces of human DNA from multiple people? I mean, I know that sounds crazy! And I don’t know if you’re aware! I’m kind of keen to follow this up, to know more about how you make these products. I’m slightly worried TBH. And seriously, I don’t want you to take this as a threat, but I might have to take this to the authorities if you don’t want to talk with me. So listen, here’s my number, give me a call. I want to help you monetize this incredible product, but only if it’s legit. So let’s talk! Love, Clara.

Arthur, who has been reading the message over Polly’s shoulder, takes a sharp breath and says, “That’s it. We have to shut down the account. Cancel all the orders and shut it all down. Now.”

Polly shakes her head, but then nods, because she knows he’s right. “Yes,” she says. “Yes.”

Arthur is already opening his own laptop and tapping buttons. “You need to reply to her. Tell her you’re shocked, tell her you’re taking the product off the market while you investigate. Thank her for informing you, et cetera, et cetera. Then we need to take all the stock to Dad’s allotment and burn every last bit of it.”

“Yes,” says Polly. “Right.” And even as she knows she has to do this, her heart is breaking. Her stock. Her beautiful stock. All those gorgeous mint-green and hot-pink boxes piled neatly in their garage. All those golden Jiffy bags, the names and addresses on mint-green labels, all ready to go. Her followers! She holds back a sob as she thinks of her followers! They love her so much! What are they going to do? They’ll be devastated. She’ll have to issue refunds for all her pending orders. Her life will be…What will her life be? For three years it’s been Beauty X. It’s been all she’s thought about from the moment she awakes to the moment she falls asleep. Filming content, heading to the lockup in Portsmouth where Ophelia and John make the serums, then sitting here in the living room packaging it all up, slipping in little treats (lollipops, miniature tubes of Love Hearts), taking the Jiffy bags to the post office every day at four o’clock, filming more content, replying to comments and messages, liaising with the packaging manufacturers, testing new products.

It’s her whole entire life, and now it’s coming to a grinding halt.

But what about this girl, she thinks to herself, clicking on her profile, this Clara? What is she going to do about her?

Clara posts several times a day, and unlike Polly, she doesn’t only produce content from inside her own home. She reports back from girls’ weekends and holidays and trips to the playground with her two-year-old daughter, Mai. She has left a breadcrumb trail beyond belief, and it doesn’t take Polly more than ten minutes online to establish that Little Miss Ethics lives in a suburb of Birmingham called Topsville in a tiny pink cottage with puffball fig trees in pots outside and a wreath on the door made out of dried hydrangeas. On the door is the number 2. The playground where Clara takes Mai for photoshoots is just across the street. Ten more minutes scanning Google Maps Street View takes Polly to her house. And now she has Clara’s address.

She shows it to Arthur. “That’s where the bitch lives.”

A shadow passes across Arthur’s eyes.

“What?” she says.

He turns slightly to look at her and goes back to his screen. “Nothing,” he says. “Nothing.”

“Well, what else are we meant to do?”

“She’s got a kid.”

“Yes, I know. I have eyes. But what’s our alternative?”

“She’s high-profile, Pols. People will notice. It would be headline news every day for a month. A beauty influencer with a quarter of a million followers and a cute kid. We can’t, okay? We have to find another way.”

Polly sighs. She knows he’s right, but how are they going to keep this bitch quiet? What’s the answer? As Arthur turns away she takes a photo of the details of Clara’s home on her computer screen with her phone.

---