Rachel McIntyre - This Careless Life

Duff laughed, ‘I love this girl! You think this –’ he waved vaguely round the room ‘is the real world?’

‘And how are we defining the “real world”?’ Cass said.

Jez put his dad’s voice on. ‘Debt. Wondering how you’ll pay the bills or buy food. Lack of opportunities. Poor housing. Being stuck in a cycle of –’

Duff clicked his tongue in disagreement. ‘Nah. If you’re poor, you go get a job and work at making money, same as everyone else. You can’t expect it on a plate. That’s the real world. Life’s what you make it, right?’

‘No!’ Jez’s head snapped up. ‘That’s a complete myth. Poverty is –’

Cass held up a hand for silence, releasing a fresh wave of familiar summer perfume.

‘Guys, this is fascinating stuff, but time is not on our side. We can debate it later. Liv, remember to keep in camera shot, please.’

Realising she had slumped deep in the sofa, Liv pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

‘As I said at the start, you need to be prepared for some difficult questions.’ Cass put her hand to her chest. ‘Devil’s advocate here. You don’t need me to tell you there are plenty of small-minded people ready to spill their vitriol across social media. Imagine I’m the nastier side of the internet calling you out for being selfish or a spoilt rich kid, what would you say?’

Liv chewed her lip. Of course, Miss Olivia Loves attracted random nasties; that went with the territory. But her subscribers usually slayed the trolls before she even read their comments. And, not that she’d admit this to anyone, least of all Cass, she actually enjoyed watching these strangers froth at the mouth on her behalf.

‘I’d say it’s not true,’ she replied carefully. ‘I mean, I know I’m lucky, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about other people. I’d tell them all the things I’ve done for charity, like donating stuff. Clothes and things.’

‘Speaking for myself,’ Jez chimed in. ‘I am committed to using my good fortune to help others and I’m sure Liv feels the same.’

Duff rolled his eyes so hard they were in danger of getting stuck round the back of his head and Liv suppressed a smile.

‘That’s right,’ Hetty added. ‘And we did fundraising at the prom, didn’t we? That was your idea.’

‘Yeah.’ Liv warmed to the theme now. ‘And I gave a genuine Hermès handbag for the raffle at Jez’s Valentine Auction.’

Ouch. She plastered on a happy smile and rode the pang of regret that struck whenever she thought about that beautiful bag. Jez had whipped her into a state without giving her the opportunity to reconsider. And now her Hermès bag was gone forever, a victim of emotional blackmail.

‘And the fashion show last summer,’ Jez was saying in Cass’s direction. ‘I set up a charitable foundation with my parents, Connecting Together. We empower young people who find themselves in challenging circumstances, providing financial assistance as well as –’

‘I remember from your application,’ Cass cut in. She’d taken her phone out of the bag and was swiping at the screen. ‘Most of the applicants only talked about raising their own profile, but yours really stood out. It’s so . . . refreshing. One of the reasons we wanted to see more of you.’

Jez shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, but Liv could practically see his head expanding.

‘If we get accusations about not caring about people less fortunate, then we have evidence to prove that’s not the case.’

‘Well, I’m very pleased to hear that,’ Cass said, ‘and I’m sure it’ll be really interesting for the audience, challenging their perceptions of privileged young people. But like I said, you need to be prepared for some difficult moments. And on that note, Liv, I’ve got a photo I’d like to show you.’

Photo?

The panic returned. Bigger, harder and sharpened into actual terror.

Blood whooshed in Liv’s ears. How could Cass have the photo?

‘Photo?’ she said, only the slightest catch betraying her emotions.

She reached out a shaking hand, but Cass pulled the phone out of reach, angling the screen in her eyeline.

Almost sick with dread, Liv obeyed.

At first she couldn’t quite tell what it was, but that really didn’t matter because it wasn’t the photo she’d taken almost a year ago. The photo he’d persuaded her to send him. The photo he’d promised he’d deleted. The photo he’d used to buy her silence.

She breathed out slowly, dizzy with relief.

Liv couldn’t quite fathom what she actually was seeing. The dim image showed a hump of something fabric. Bedclothes?

‘There’s a girl, lying down . . .’ she said.

‘And?’

‘She’s got her back to the camera, so I can’t see much. She’s got long dark hair. She’s wearing a pale dressing gown with stars on it. Looks skinny, really skinny. Erm . . . room’s quite dark. Messy. It’s really dark.’

Cass flicked her thumb and index finger at the screen. ‘Let’s zoom in.’

‘Um,’ Liv said. Her eyes narrowed, trying to focus, then widened. ‘Oh.’

‘What is it?’ said Hetty.

‘The girl, I think . . .’

‘What?’ Jez said.

Liv peered at the screen. The clothes piled on a chair. The red lights of a radio alarm clock. The hump on the bed. The dark shape of the head with its long, long tail of hair. Something tugged at the back of her mind and then was gone.

‘Do we know her?’ said Duff.

Liv shook her head. ‘It’s not that. Just . . . Cass, is she dead ?’

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