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THIRTY-FIVE

2003

It’s the day after her fifteenth birthday when she first meets him. He’s sitting on a bench in the park near school, staring at the lake, and he looks a little bit like Leonardo DiCaprio. She can’t pull her eyes away from him. But there’s a sadness about the way his gaze fixes on the ripples, and something compels her to walk over to him and sit beside him.

He moves up to make room for her, even though there’s plenty of space, but he doesn’t look at her. She could be anyone: an elderly man sitting down to catch his breath, or a mum watching her children play basketball on the court by the lake. She wants him to see her, although she can’t explain why.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks. ‘You don’t look okay.’ She feels her cheeks flush. What a ridiculous thing to say to a grown man she’s never met. He’ll probably tell her to eff off, and who could blame him? He’s a proper adult, why would he talk to a schoolgirl?

But he doesn’t tell her to eff off. Instead, he turns to her and smiles, which makes him even more attractive. ‘Is it that obvious?’ he says, with a small chuckle. ‘I thought I was doing a decent job of hiding it. Of looking like I’m just out here for the fresh air. To take in the views of that beautiful lake.’

Now it’s her turn to smile. ‘Need to try harder next time.’

‘Well, you’re bold,’ he says, raising his eyebrows, looking her up and down. ‘For someone so young.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘I’m fifteen. Not that young.’

Again he raises his eyebrows. ‘Is that right? If only you knew just how young it really is.’

‘How old are you, then?’ Her heart pumps faster. She silently prays that he’s not too much older. Twenty is fine. Maybe even twenty-five.

‘Old enough to be your dad,’ he says. ‘I’m thirty-nine last time I checked.’ Although when you get to my age, you kind of stop keeping count. Gets too depressing otherwise.’

Disappointed, she does a quick calculation. ‘You’re right. You are old enough to be my dad.’ But still she wonders how someone so attractive can ever feel depressed.

He laughs. ‘Told you. What’s your name?’

She tells him and asks him his.

‘Graham,’ he says.

‘So why are you sad, Graham? Wife left you?’ She’s already noticed the absence of a wedding ring on his finger.

‘Are you always this sassy?’ he asks, smiling. ‘That will get you far in life, I’m sure.’

‘Guilty as charged,’ she says, feeling flattered that she’s making him smile when he’d looked so down before.

He stands up, and holds out his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Miss Sass.’ And then he’s gone, leaving a yearning ache in her stomach.

She sees him five more times in the park, on the same bench where they first met. She’s never worked out what he was sad about, but since then he’s always seemed happy when he’s talking to her. Maybe she’s as good for him as he is for her.

Each time they meet, they talk – for nearly an hour most times, before he says he has to get home. She doesn’t want to ask him if there’s a girlfriend waiting for him at home – that would ruin everything. Instead, she keeps him in their bubble, one that no one outside it would ever understand.

It’s a Friday evening when she next sees him in the park, this time playing football with his friends. She told her mum she’s studying at Collette’s house. She doesn’t even get on with Collette, but her mum wouldn’t know that – she never listens, too wrapped up in work and her own busy life.

Graham spots her on the bench – their bench – and winks at her before turning back to his game. A jolt of excitement passes through her, something she’s never felt, even though she’s messed around with boys before.

For forty minutes she sits watching the game, and as it ends and Graham’s friends disperse, she’s once again alone with him. He takes his time gathering his things and then glancing around, brings them over to the bench and sits down, bending down to untie his football boots. ‘Like football, do you?’ he says, grinning. ‘Noticed you were watching us.’

Not ‘us’ – you. ‘I like things about it,’ she says, fluttering her eyelashes.

He raises his eyebrows just like he did when she first met him, and she feels as if she’ll explode. How can a man this age do this to her? She doesn’t understand it, but she wants to feel more of it, to see how good he could make her feel.

‘Where have all your friends gone?’ she asks, to keep him talking.

‘They’re not really my friends. We just play football every week. I don’t usually socialise with them.’ He packs his football boots in his bag and stands. ‘Well, enjoy your evening.’

‘Wait,’ she says. ‘Are you going already?’

‘Yeah, it’s late and I need to eat. Sorry, Miss Sass.’

‘We could eat together somewhere?’ she says, unsure where this bold proposition has come from. ‘You could buy me a drink.’

He laughs, a loud splutter that makes her feel small and pathetic, and then his expression changes. ‘I think you should go home now.’ His tone is soft and kind, but this makes her feel even more pathetic. She’s tried to seduce an older man and he’s turned her down.

She stares at him, defiant, longing for him. ‘Don’t go.’

He sighs. ‘This is dangerous,’ he says. ‘I shouldn’t even be talking to you. I’m an adult and you’re…you’re not.’

‘I practically am,’ she says.

‘Listen – you need to do me a favour.’

‘Anything,’ she says.

‘Go home. And never, ever talk to men like this again. You’re young – there’s plenty of time for all of…all of this. Don’t be in such a rush.’

And then he’s gone, not even looking back at Mona to see the damage he’s inflicted on her.

Mona is off school for the rest of the week. Her mother has a job interview on Monday so she’s too wrapped up in preparing for it to doubt Mona’s story about feeling sick. And when she leaves Mona alone in the house and heads off to work, Mona puts her plan into action.

Every day she heads to the park, knowing that sooner or later she’s bound to see Graham again. But it’s not until Thursday lunchtime that she spots him, sitting on their bench, this time eating a sandwich. She assumes he must live or work around here, so she waits and watches, from behind the gigantic oak tree she used to climb when she was younger. He never looks around, and she’s quite certain that he’s forgotten all about her. Yet he is imprinted on her mind, on her whole body, and she can’t shake him.

Maybe he’s realised he’s made a mistake by dismissing her? That’s why he’s sitting on their bench, hoping she’ll come along. Mona wants to believe this, but doubt niggles away; he’d crushed her so cruelly and then walked away.

Graham gets up from the bench, and she follows him, not even bothering to keep a safe distance. He turns down several roads and then he heads up the driveway of a house on Pearson Street. Mona holds her breath and her pulse races. Is this his home?

Then everything changes when he knocks on the door and a blonde-haired woman answers, pulling him towards her and kissing him on the mouth.

Mona wants to throw up. So this is why he wouldn’t do anything with her. She’d never entertained the possibility that he might have someone. She watches them – sees how tenderly he touches her cheek, kisses her forehead, wraps his arms around her.

When the door shuts, Mona turns away, seething with rage. He’d led her on, made her think that he was interested in her. And then this.

Graham White has fucked with the wrong girl.

Over the next few days, Mona feels herself changing. Robbie keeps trying to talk to her, and normally she wouldn’t entertain the idea, but somehow, being with him feels like she’s getting Graham out of her system. She’s aware it’s a temporary solution, though – she’s not attracted to Robbie, whereas it’s clear that Graham adores that blonde woman he spends so much time with. Five days out of seven last week. Mona’s keeping a diary. Times, places. Every detail of his life. And he always leaves her in his house when he goes to work – he must really trust her.

PE started ten minutes ago, but Mona’s still in the girls’ changing room, on her own. If she could, she’d make herself invisible so that nobody would ever find her. Who would even care? She can’t bear the thought of going out there to play tennis, so she’ll wait here until the teacher comes looking for her.

Five minutes later, when the changing room door opens, it’s not Miss Bright but Kate who strides in. ‘There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Miss Abbott said you need to hurry up or she’s marking you absent.’

Mona shrugs. ‘Let her. I don’t care. Who gives a shit about tennis?’

‘Mona, what’s going on? I thought you didn’t mind tennis?’ She pauses. ‘You’ve been acting really…I dunno. Strange. Just talk to me. I’m your friend. Tell me what’s wrong.’

Then it all pours from her mouth, words Mona never imagined she’d ever be saying.

‘I…I was attacked. By a man in the park. A few weeks ago.’