Page 92 of The Silent Appeal

1:12 p.m. Kevin wrote:

I’m just not devious enough for this, what can I say?

1:13 p.m. Sarah-Jane wrote:

With Woof causing havoc she can’t complain when Sammy throws her tenth tantrum of the day.

1:16 p.m. Kevin wrote:

Can Carol babysit Sunday? I doubt Mendhams will be set-building yet.

1:17 p.m. Sarah-Jane wrote:

We’re still not talking. You ask her.

1:17 p.m. Kevin wrote:

She’s YOUR mother. Ask Nicky-Rose to ask her.

To: Trina Neale

From: Nicky-Rose Dearing

Date: February 15, 2025

Subject: You and me

Dear Trina,

Look, I want to settle this with as little drama as humanly possible. I’ve been through a lot since last June, and have a choice: stay trapped in that awful time or make my peace with it and move on.

What happened between us will never—can never—be resolved. What you did is unforgivable in my eyes. However, I am willing to accept the fact that there’s no undoing it.

You sold my house while I was at my lowest. I had to find a flat but couldn’t work so the rent drained all my savings. Please understand, Trina, I have NOTHING, and whatever you think about how it ended, after all my hard work at Twin Star, that’s not right. The only thing left in my power is a proposal.

We each have something the other wants. Let’s work it out so we both walk away happy. I’ll give you the documents in exchange for $500k. I know you’ve refinanced and are good for that much. Under the circumstances this is a small price to pay for what you did. At the same time, I feel it’s a fair sum in recompense for the role I played building up the company. To be clear, I don’t have the docs here. They are hidden, safe from prying eyes. If anything happens to me, they will be found and their contents acted upon. Nicky-Rose

Message exchange between Amelia Stibson and Fran Elroy-Jones on February 15, 2025:

1:45 p.m. Amelia wrote:

He brought me chocolates and carnations but just left them on the table

1:46 p.m. Amelia wrote:

He scribbled my name on the box in Biro.

1:47 p.m. Fran wrote:

He’s busy. This isn’t a great time for the night economy. It’s cold, dark, and no one has any money.

2:03 p.m. Amelia wrote:

Georgia has gnawed through the chocolates like a fucking termite. Wish she’d get a job and move out.

2:22 p.m. Fran wrote:

How’s your job hunt going? Things picking up after the New Year?