Page 96 of Mad Mabel

“I fell. In the bike shed. I’m fine, but it made me a bit late.”

“You fell?” Her eyebrows rose. “You’re not a clumsy boy, Christos.”

“It was my fault,” I admitted. “I pushed Billy and Billy fell onto Christos.”

Her gaze returned to me, sharper and cooler this time. “Is that right? I hear you have a bit of a reputation for causing trouble.”

“Mum,” Christos started, but she cut him off with a single glare.

“Don’t talk back, Christos.” Then she switched to Greek, her voice rising in rapid, clipped words. From the way her eyes darted back to me now and then, I knew at least part of what she was saying was about me. Probably all of it.

Christos turned his back on his mother, his expression apologetic but resigned. “Just go, Mabel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said softly.

“Not your fault.” He managed a small smile, even as his mother continued her tirade beside him.

“I hope your head is okay,” I murmured as I pulled my bike upright.

I was still within earshot when his mother’s voice cut through the air in English, cold and firm. “I don’t want you hanging around with that girl again, do you understand?”

I didn’t wait to hear Christos’s reply. I pedaled away quickly, wondering if Christos would listen to his mother. And wondering if I could stand it if he did.

63

NOW

Libby and Adeem arrive early the next morning. There are no treats from Meera this time, no small talk. We only have one more day to finish filming and they are all business.

“We’ve had some interest from sponsors,” Libby says excitedly, “but they want a finished product, so we have to hustle.”

And so, I follow their lead, making cups of tea efficiently without too much chitchat. But secretly I’m disappointed. I’d come to enjoy their visits, and I liked the chitchat the best.

“Just confirming,” Libby starts, when we’re all set up, “that we’ve covered everything to this point.”

Adeem looks at his notes: “We’ve got her sister’s death, her mother’s death, Billy’s injury, Mr. Loukas’s murder, and of course, Christos’s fall.” He looks up. “Whew. That’s a lot of stuff.”

“It’s a lot of stuff to be held responsible for,” I agree. “And yet, when you’re accused of one thing, it becomes pretty easy to be held responsible for others too, at least in other people’s eyes. I just stoodby while they stacked up. It played right into my father’s hands. A perfect crime. My aunt was wrong when she said he wasn’t clever.”

“Do you want to talk about that?” Libby asks.

“No,” I say. “But that’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it?”

Libby nods at Adeem to get the camera rolling. “Hopefully there are no interruptions today,” she says. “We have a lot to get through.”

64

THEN

“Mabel? Is that you?”

When I got home from school, I found Cess and Ness at the kitchen table, which, rather than being covered in food, was covered in manila folders and stacks of paperwork. They both had a glass of whiskey.

As I entered, Ness reached for the seat beside her and pulled it out.

“What is it?” I asked.

“We’ve had a letter from your father’s lawyer.”