Page 20 of Forever is Now

Adelaide James: My job is to make sure that no wool is pulled over people’s eyes. Everyone was so sure at first that you were innocent. Tragic, they called you. But you’re not an innocent type of person, are you, Summer? You play the victim so well, but I can see through you. It may be that my theories were wrong—but I wasn’t wrong completely, was I? We all know what you did later.

Summer Taylor-Braddon: I already said we’re sticking only to events already narrated, Adelaide.

Adelaide James: Don’t the public deserve to know?

Summer Taylor-Braddon: And they will know. They will—when we get to that part. You’ve got my outline, so you know what we’re talking about when.

Adelaide James: You think you’re so clever, don’t you? You think that you can really script everything, don’t you? Talk people around. You may be a writer, but you’re not invincible. And no—don’t speak. Let me talk. I’ve got a lot to say.

And I know you’re not going to like this. Hell, you may even edit these recordings, and I know this is your project and there’s nothing I can actually do about that, except try. Try and get the truth across.

I am going to bring my first guest in now. This promises to be a very interesting conversation.

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Adelaide James: So, with us in the studio, we have Hector Beveridge. Welcome, Mr. Beveridge. So, Ms. Taylor-Braddon, I assume you remember who this man is?

Summer Taylor-Braddon: My primary school teacher. Year 2.

Adelaide James: Yes. [She clears her throat] Now, Hector, perhaps you’d like to start by telling us what Ms. Taylor-Braddon was like as a child?

Hector Beveridge: A tearaway! [He laughs] There were two classes per year in our school back then, and Summer was notorious. She was one of those children that today hundreds of emails would be sent about. I always taught year 2, which meant I also kept an eye on the year 1s, seeing who I’d have the following year. Summer came to my attention early on.

Adelaide James: And why might that be?

Hector Beveridge: She had a reputation. She was one of those kids who’d really test anyone she was with. You’d tell her “no” and she wouldn’t just say “why” but she’d do it anyway, right after you told her not to. She always had to have her own way. She had to be the center of attention, and really, it was dangerous if she wasn’t the center, because then you knew she was planning something. She’d bite other children, break their toys, and she’d scream so loudly if she wasn’t getting what she wanted.

But she was also clever too. Very intelligent. Not just academically, but even when she was playing up, she’d show she was clever. She did enough to get temporarily suspended, but never excluded. When she’d come back she’d be ever so nice. Good as gold. And I’d just know that she was planning something. She was like an alarm clock ready to go off, only just when you thought the alarm would blare through the room, it wouldn’t.

It was always the waiting, with Summer. Waiting to see what she was going to do next.

Adelaide James: That makes her sound like quite the difficult child?

Hector Beveridge: Difficult, yes. But she was still likeable too. That was the odd thing. Usually if there was a badly behaved kid in the class, none of the other children really liked them. And although Summer had made plenty of enemies in the classroom—the kids she bit and kicked, for example—she still had a lot of friends. She was liked, and she definitely had a spark to her. I was more fond of her than I cared to admit, at the time.

I knew she’d do great things, if only she put her mind to it. That was why I was so excited to see she was making it as an author. She was putting her mind to good use. And she’d always been good at literacy.

Adelaide James: Yes, tell us more about that, Mr. Beveridge. I understand that as a child, Ms. Taylor-Braddon was quite imaginative?

Hector Beveridge: Aye, that she was.

Adelaide James: But it wasn’t just in literacy and English lessons, was it? She’d—well, what other word for there is it, thanlying?

Hector Beveridge: This was a particular concern after Christmas, when she was in my class, yes. She was... imaginative. But she was also convincing.

She told me her family had got a puppy for Christmas. She told me its name—I forget what that was now—but she gave so many details, describing it. Telling us all in the class about what the dog was like, where they took it for walks. She even brought in its lead for show-and-tell.

It was only a couple months later when I asked her mother at parents’ evening how the dog was getting on. She didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.

Adelaide James: So, she was lying?

Hector Beveridge: She told a lot of stories about this dog.

Adelaide James: But it wasn’t just stories about the dog, was it? There were other lies.

Hector Beveridge: There were.

Adelaide James: Care to elaborate, Mr. Beveridge?

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