Page 90 of Breaking the Dark

She shrugs. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Jefferson gulps slightly. “You know, that wouldn’t surprise me. He’s been acting so weird recently.”

“So I hear,” says Jessica, turning to leave, “so I hear.”

Three Years Ago

Lincoln, UK

Polly meets Arthur for tea in a trendy café on Steep Hill. It’s early autumn, but the sun is still holding its summer warmth and she’s wearing a pretty dress, just the sort that Arthur likes, floral sprigs and puffed sleeves. She’s wearing her hair down, as he likes it, and not too much makeup.

Arthur looks up from his laptop and smiles. He closes the lid and gets to his feet. “What would you like?”

“Just tea, please. And maybe a slice of that coffee cake.”

Arthur heads to the counter, and she observes him from behind. Her student boy, he really looks the part these days. He even has friends. Curtis and Jacob. They’re mature students, like him, geeky boys, in their late twenties. They go to the pub sometimes, to talk about quantum mechanics. Polly finds this quite adorable. Wholesome even. Which is funny really, given who Arthur is behind closed doors. Curtis and Jacob would never believe it if they knew.

Arthur returns with the cake and the tea on a tray and places the items in front of Polly, before taking the tray back to the counter.

She smiles at him, then she says, in a very low voice, “I’ve found some.”

“Some what?”

“Some…girls.”

Arthur’s eyes dart around the café, but the acoustics are terrible, and nobody would be able to hear.

She slides her phone across the table and shows him. There are three of them. They’re all fourteen. They call themselves her Peach Babies.

“What have you told them?”

“Nothing. I’m just, you know, getting a feel for them.”

“Grooming them.”

She recoils. “Ew, gross,” she says. “That’s a horrible way of putting it.”

He slides the phone back to her. “Well, yes, but it’s true. It’s what you’re doing.”

She can hear the disapproval in his voice. She hates it. Her cheek twitches with the effort of holding her temper. “I am not grooming anybody. They’re fans. They’re followers. They’re doing what they want to do.”

“They’re children.”

“Well, yes, and you’d know all about that.”

He flinches. “I’m sorry…what?”

But he knows what she means. She’s talking about his childhood friend, the one he lured back to his parents’ chalet when he was only eleven years old at his father’s behest, the one who ended up buried in the woods behind Eastney Beach and whose body was only found again ten years later.

“I didn’t groom him,” he barks quietly. “My parents told me I was allowed to bring someone home for tea. How was I supposed to…”

She shushes him. “You knew what you were doing. All you ever wanted to do was please your parents.”

“Yes, and now all I ever want to do is please you. I’ve spent my whole life pleasing people. But this, Pol, this is too much.”

Polly inhales, tries to bring herself back to sweetness. “I just need you to promise me that it’s nearly ready. Okay? I won’t be able to keep these girls hanging on forever. Teenagers change so fast. We need to start testing ASAP.”

“It’s not nearly ready. I keep telling you. It’s far from ready. And Pol, you know, it might never be ready. You have to remember that.”

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