Page 46 of Guilty Mothers
‘Oh, I know exactly where it’s coming from. I can even give you the address.’
THIRTY-ONE
‘Bloody hell,’ Stacey said, looking at the webpage of a group called the ERA.
She could see that the initials stood for Equal Rights Activists but wondered if the similarity to the Irish terror group was more than a coincidence. Unlike the IRA, this group seemed to hate everyone: at least everyone who didn’t fight for the cause of battling men.
At first look, the website was like an assault on the eyes. Headlines screaming words like ‘rape’, ‘subjugation’, ‘inferior’, ‘objectification’ were plastered everywhere. Drop-down menus led to itemised reports of sexism, domestic violence, misogyny, pay scales. There were lists of patriarchal companies, places and events to boycott due to poor gender balance.
It didn’t take long for Stacey to realise it was a very angry website. Every article was an attack on someone or something. Finger-pointing in every direction. Just reading it was exhausting and not a little depressing. Spend too much time here and you’d grab a gun and shoot every man on the face of the earth.
She continued surfing until she found a drop-down menu called ‘female fails’. Under the heading were exotic dancers, glamour models and beauty pageants.
Stacey browsed the articles and found the group was equally as angry towards the competitors and the organisers.
‘Oh,’ she exclaimed as she scrolled through the photos.
Right there was a photo of a cracked window with the headline:‘Oh dear, Pretty Pageants has had another unfortunate act of violence’followed by a laughing-face emoji.
Okay, so this group had no problem acting on their disapproval, and it appeared they had no trouble shouting about it.
But just how loud were they prepared to shout?
THIRTY-TWO
It was almost lunchtime when Penn parked the car at Donkey Pool. At the last minute, he grabbed a Twix from the meal deals they’d bought on their way.
‘It’s gonna come again,’ Tiff said, looking towards the clouds that were likely to end the short dry spell.
He opened the packet and offered her one of the fingers. She took it, and they ate silently as they walked.
‘So, whereabouts was he fished out?’ Penn asked as they approached the lake.
‘Right here,’ Tiff said, standing just to the right of a bunch of bulrushes.
Penn looked around and saw a man at a spot directly opposite.
‘Come with me,’ he said, heading towards the lone figure.
As he neared, he noted the gear. Three rods, deck chair, cooler box, flask, umbrella.
Perfect.
‘Hey there,’ Penn called out. ‘How are you doing?’
‘My doings are fine, thanks for asking.’
Penn introduced them both and then waited.
‘Harry Guestford, Lower Gornal. Son of Thelma and Stan. Stop me once I’m boring you.’
‘You know about what happened here yesterday?’ Penn asked, getting right to it.
‘Hell, yeah, it was the talk of my local last night. Half expected to get turned away by your lot this morning but nope. I’m all set for the day.’
Yeah, seemed like the search team hadn’t spent too much time investigating.
‘Did you know him?’ Penn asked.