The Ex-Files Read online

  ‘You get your tea here as it should be served – in a teapot. None of this teabag-in-your-cup lark, eh, Kathleen? As for the scones here: home-made and always warm from the oven – perfect.’

  They laughed and chatted for a moment. After she'd left, he said he wanted to know some more about Nicole and me. You might wonder why I didn't just tell him to mind his own business. I've been puzzling about that, too. Maybe it was the way his eyes sparked with such total attention every time I spoke. It was kind of flattering, I suppose.

  So I told him how at first Nicole and I had got on really well. In fact, whenever she felt a bit depressed (which she did surprisingly often) she said I was the only person who could cheer her up.

  I went on to tell Rupert about the day Nicole visited my house. I'd dreaded her seeing my awful dump of a road, where all the houses look as if they've been thrown together and might blow away at any moment and there's always litter everywhere (I even cleaned all that up before Nicole came, as if she was royalty visiting us). But my mum and dad and even my two little brothers, for goodness' sake, made her so welcome – it was totally different when I called on her folks.

  I suspected James might have put in some bad words for me (he, of course, was their favourite person in the entire universe). Anyway, they were both so stiff and cold that afterwards I told Nicole her parents were a pair of snobs.

  She got mad and said I didn't know them… and soon we were having our first big row.

  I took him through all the other rows, ending, of course, with that little beauty at Pizza Paradiso. And when I'd finished he leaned forward and said, ‘Now, it's time I told you something about me.’

  He began to speak very quickly. ‘My name is Rupert but don't hold that against me. I run a small, secret organization. It's for teenagers only – although we have a couple of honorary, older members. Here's my card.’

  He handed me a small card on which was just written ‘The Ex-Files’, and a phone number.

  I stared at it. ‘I still don't get what you do.’

  ‘We stop people like you who've been dumped from making any more mistakes and we give you all the help you need.’

  ‘But why would you want to help me…? You don't know me.’

  ‘Because I was in your situation once,’ he replied. ‘I made every mistake you've ever made – and many more.’

  It was hard to imagine this laid-back person ever charging about like a loon, as I'd been doing over Nicole. But there was a web of lines about his mouth and eyes, which made his face look unexpectedly sad when he wasn't joking.

  He continued, ‘I needed someone to put me straight but there wasn't anyone. I don't think that's right. So I set up a new organization to assist fellow sufferers.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Do I have to pay for this?’

  ‘Everyone always asks me about money,’ he cried. ‘No, you won't have to pay a penny. Sometimes at the end of the cure people give us a contribution towards our running costs but it's up to you. You'll have to sign a contract, though. We do insist on that.’

  ‘So, are you some kind of sect… for needy losers?’ I added under my breath.

  He grinned. ‘A sect of dumpees. Well, it would be a pretty big sect, with millions of members.’ He took a swig of tea, with obvious relish.

  ‘But you'll help me get Nicole back?’

  He shook his head. This is definitely not a dating service… In fact, really it's exactly the opposite. Our job is to help you put a relationship behind you… which, believe me, can be one of the hardest things in the world.’

  He was talking quickly again now, and with such intensity, it was hard not to be swept along with him. ‘When you're dumped so many emotions hit you – guilt, anger and a really terrible despair. This is a time when you need attention and support… especially when you're a teenager, going through it for the very first time. Yet not one single person seems to understand or be able to help. You're totally alone –’

  ‘Until now,’ I interrupted, ‘with the Ex-Files riding to your rescue.’ My tone was a shade mocking but actually I was becoming more and more intrigued by this whole set-up.

  I asked some more questions, and then I went to the loo, really to think about this some more. While there, I glanced at my face. It had a weary, exhausted look which I'd never seen there before. So that's what you've done to me, Nicole. You've turned me into someone I hardly recognize.

  When I got back Rupert said, ‘I see my next appointment is plucking up courage to come in. I don't want to rush you, Danny. So why don't you go away and think about all this and let me know tomorrow, maybe –’

  ‘I don't need to do that.’ I interrupted so firmly, I shocked myself. But this guy seemed to know what he was talking about. And what did I have to lose? It was free – and I could do a runner at any time. ‘I've decided I want to join up right now,’ I said. ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘Tomorrow we meet up to sign the contract and debrief, either here or at your house.’

  ‘At my house. All my family are out tomorrow… I suppose I'd better give you my address.’

  ‘It's all right,’ he replied. ‘We have it already.’

  A shiver ran down my spine. They really did know everything about me.

  ‘See you tomorrow afternoon, then,’ he said, ‘at about two o'clock.’

  As I left I saw that red-haired woman take Rupert up another cup of tea. For him, this little café must be like his office – but what a truly bizarre place to pick. It was like discovering MI5 operating from an old people's home.

  The girl hovering about outside looked familiar. I was sure she went to the school down the road. I'd like to have spoken to her, only she had her head lowered as if she were in a spy film.

  I watched her go inside: Rupert's next client. Or victim. No, not victim. Too harsh. After all, he was helping people, wasn't he? Yet that makes you suspicious, for a start. I still don't understand why he should want to do that. This could just be an elaborate trick of some kind. Maybe you do end up paying him some money. And what about this contract he kept mentioning – perhaps there's a secret clause you don't read until it's too late.

  What have I got myself into?

  PART TWO

  Taking the Cure

  BELLA

  Chapter 8

  THURSDAY 30 JULY

  I saw Rupert again tonight. Last night we just sat chatting in the bus shelter, but tonight we met up in a café called the Copper Kettle.

  I was so surprised he'd picked that one. It was a really olde-worlde kind of place. You wouldn't have been surprised to see Miss Marple dropping in for a gossip.

  When I first arrived I saw Rupert sitting right at the back of the café, deep in conversation with a good-looking boy I'm sure I recognized. This completely flustered me. I slunk out of the café again and hung about until the boy emerged. I quickly turned my face away. I didn't want him recognizing me and telling everyone what I was doing. And what exactly was I doing? I couldn't tell you. I'd tried to look on this encounter as a little adventure and kept telling myself I was seeing Rupert in a public place and could leave any time I wanted.

  I edged back inside. Even at night, a sweet odour of hot scones and chocolate still twisted itself round you. Rupert saw me and beckoned me over. His table had a large ‘RESERVED’ sign plastered across it.

  ‘Turning into a busy night,’ he said, conversationally.

  The nerves got into my throat and I could only choke something in reply. Last night I'd talked away to him for ages about Luc and what had happened. It was like some kind of release, I suppose. And he was a surprisingly good listener – boys aren't usually, are they? But he seemed absolutely fascinated by everything I had to say. Afterwards, though, I feared I'd told him – a total stranger – too much. And why was he so interested, anyway? I even wondered if he was a reporter. But what newspaper would be running a story about me?

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked me.

  ‘Nothing,�
�� I replied. ‘Can't stay long,’ I added. Meeting this highly inquisitive boy again was complete madness, not an adventure at all. I shifted about in my chair, which kept creaking. Then my nose started to run. I fumbled about for a hankie. He was looking straight at me now. His eyes were such a light blue; they were almost clear and quite impenetrable.

  ‘You're wondering what you're doing here,’ he said quietly. ‘Shall I tell you?’

  I nodded slowly.

  ‘You're here because you can't believe how miserable you feel. In fact, right now it's crushing you. And you don't know how you're going to get through it.’

  He was spot on there. But I didn't say anything.

  ‘It's as if you're stuck in a dark, horrible place you've never been in before. Well, I've been to that place, too. And I know exactly how to get out of there… Interested?’

  I hesitated. ‘First of all, tell me what exactly you are.’

  That question hadn't come out right at all. In fact, it sounded a bit rude, but he didn't take offence. Indeed, he seemed faintly amused. ‘I'll tell you exactly what I am. I run a unique organization called the Ex-Files that's designed to help people who find themselves in your situation.’

  ‘But why should you bother?’

  ‘I'm always being asked that,’ he replied, a trifle sadly. Then he said quickly, ‘I bother because the Ex-Files is completely and totally brilliant.’

  ‘Nothing like modesty.’ I grinned. He was just about the strangest boy I'd ever met. He wasn't even a boy, really. I bet he was about nineteen or twenty; exuberant, yet with a strange authority about him and clearly very enthusiastic about what he was doing, whatever that was.

  ‘Do I have to pay anything?’ I asked.

  He let out a thin sigh. ‘Everyone always asks me that, too. The Ex-Files is free to all who use it… And, by the way, we guarantee complete confidentiality to all our clients, but we do ask in return that you say nothing to your friends and family about the Ex-Files. We can achieve so much more, undercover.’ He couldn't hide that little smile of relish as he said ‘undercover’, either. I thought, You're just loving the mysteriousness of all this.

  I said, ‘So if I decide to join the Ex-Files, what happens next?’

  ‘We either meet here or at your home.’

  ‘Here,’ I said at once, and then added, ‘My dad's around tomorrow.’

  ‘Good point,’ he agreed at once. ‘We prefer not to involve family members… So then, tomorrow you'll sign a contract.’

  ‘Saying what?’ I asked at once.

  ‘That you'll sign all your money over to me for the next fifty years… No, that's a joke. It'll just say that you agree to abide by our rules. Then I will give you your first assignment – and the cure commences.’

  ‘The cure,’ I said. ‘I like the sound of that.’ And I suddenly noticed one of my feet was actually tapping.

  I've arranged to meet Rupert again at eleven o'clock tomorrow. These past few days I've done so many things which have surprised me – cutting up dresses and stalking being just two of the highlights – so joining a secret society for dumpees fits perfectly into my bizarre new lifestyle.

  I wonder what Luc would think if he knew what I was doing. He'd probably just be relieved I wasn't bothering him any more. I suppose the truth is I'm feeling very lonely right now – and Rupert is a great salesman. The trouble is, I'm still not exactly sure what he's sold me.

  FRIDAY 31 JULY

  I got a shock when I arrived at the Copper Kettle this morning. There was someone with Rupert. A girl of about his age: spiky, blonde hair and smartly dressed. She just looked so drop-dead cool I immediately felt intimidated.

  Then came another shock. She was introduced to me as Juliette, the co-founder of the Ex-Files. I'd just assumed Rupert was in sole charge. You'd think having a girl involved as well would have reassured me, but oddly enough it didn't. She was too brisk and efficient for my taste; her presence seemed to take away some of the friendly relaxed atmosphere of yesterday. I also wondered if she was Rupert's girlfriend. That idea didn't exactly please me either – though don't ask me why.

  Rupert was his usual, quirky self, though. ‘Here's the contract. Read it, sign it, then you're in our power forever…’

  I quickly read it. It said:

  THE EX-FILES’ CONTRACT

  I promise to follow all the tasks decreed by The Ex-Files. I will take seriously all their advice. I will not discuss this agreement with anyone. In return, the Ex-Files promises not to disclose anything I have told them.

  Please note the following PENALTY CLAUSE.

  If you do not follow our advice, that's the last time you will ever see us.

  Juliette must have noticed me raising my eyebrows at that part because she said, ‘In the early days some of our clients let us down and misused the Ex-Files. And we do only have limited resources, so if you're half-hearted you're just wasting our time, aren't you?’

  Now she was making it all sound like a business. I didn't like that – or her – very much, so I didn't say anything. Then Rupert cut in with a mocking grin, ‘We can't just help anyone, you know. We have certain standards to keep up.’ He laughed and I laughed too. He added, almost shyly, ‘So pleased you've joined us.’

  The last part of the contract just stated that the agreement took place on Friday 31 July between Bella Norris and the co-founders of the Ex-Files.

  I signed it, and handed it to Rupert. He cried, ‘Great. That's all the boring paperwork out of the way. Now we can move on to your first assignment.’ He looked at me. ‘People sometimes gasp when I tell them what it is.’

  ‘I'm getting nervous now,’ I said.

  ‘I'm not surprised,’ said Juliette, in her slightly drawly voice, ‘after that build up.’

  ‘Bella, for your first task,’ cried Rupert, ‘we want you to go straight home and scoop up everything that reminds you of Luc: cards, presents, photographs and letters. We want it all. We don't want a particle of Luc left in your house.’

  ‘We'll provide you with a bag,’ added Juliette, ‘so you just shove it all in there and then give the bag to us.’

  I hadn't expected that at all, and it seemed such a huge thing to ask. Right now all I had left of Luc were his cards and presents… and notes. There were masses of those. Often he'd slip a little note into my pocket, just saying how much he loved me. Later I'd find it and keep it in the little drawer by my bed, with all his other messages.

  So if they were all taken away, that would leave me with nothing of Luc at all.

  I sat thinking about this, while neither Rupert nor Juliette said a word. They just let the silence stretch out…

  Suddenly the rest of the café seemed very noisy. It was as if someone had just switched the volume right up. I gazed around. No one, apart from us, was under forty in here and most were considerably older than that.

  Two white-haired ladies on the table opposite were shaking with high-pitched giggles, while a man with a bushy beard was standing right in front of the fan, which was whirring away beside our table. ‘It's just too hot,’ he muttered to no one in particular.

  What a very odd place for the Ex-Files to meet, but rather a clever one too. No chance of any teenagers overhearing what you were saying – they'd never be seen dead in here. You were totally and completely private! And the lady who served us – she's called Kathleen and has very bright red hair – was lovely. She kept smiling at me and said to let her know if I wanted anything else. I really felt as if I was getting special attention.

  Minutes must have ticked by, but neither Juliette nor Rupert made any attempt to rush me. Perhaps they were used to this. Did most new members balk at doing something so dramatic for their first assignment? At last, I said quietly, ‘Is it totally necessary?’

  ‘I'm afraid it is,’ replied Rupert. ‘Hanging on to all that stuff just keeps the wound open…’

  ‘And imprisons you in the past,’ added Juliette.

  ‘But what will you do with it?’ I aske
d.

  ‘We'll keep it very safe for you,’ said Juliette. ‘And one day, if you want it all back, it will be here, waiting for you –’

  ‘As good as new,’ cut in Rupert.

  ‘But if you'd rather never see it again,’ said Juliette, ‘we'll also destroy it for you.’

  I couldn't see that happening. And I still had my doubts. But then I glanced down at the penalty clause. I didn't want to be chucked out of the Ex-Files on my very first day. Besides, I could always keep back a couple of Luc's cards. They'd never know.

  ‘All right,’ I said slowly. ‘I'll do it.’

  As Dad would have left to have lunch with Gloria now I decided to do the deed right away. Rupert drove us back to my house in this ancient Rover, which he told me he'd borrowed from his grandad. Actually, I could have believed it was Rupert's: it would be just like him to drive such an eccentric choice of car.

  At my house Juliette handed me a large canvas bag and said they'd wait for me. But I, of course, invited them inside. ‘Make yourselves at home,’ I said.

  ‘We will… while you get to work,’ said Rupert, tapping my bag. ‘Nine out of ten relapses happen in the bedroom, you know. It's where you're at your most vulnerable: a real danger zone. So by removing everything that reminds you of him, you could say you're sterilizing your room and making it safe for you to go in.’ I had a feeling he'd delivered this little speech many times before, but he said it with great conviction.

  ‘Now, do you want any help?’ asked Juliette gravely. She made it seem as if I were off to defuse a bomb.

  ‘No, I'll be OK,’ I said.

  And actually, it wasn't anywhere near as hard as I expected. Seeing all Luc's little cards and presents didn't make me go all gooey and sentimental. Instead, they sent me into a blazing rage. He'd gone and dumped me, so what was the point of keeping all this junk? It didn't serve any purpose any longer, save to drag me back to a long, dead past.