13 Minutes (21 page)

‘Just chill out,’ Becca said. ‘It’s probably nothing, right?’ This was her role, the one she and Tasha had decided she should play. Partially backing Tasha up but not cutting Hayley out entirely. To look like maybe, just maybe, she might be someone Hayley could confide in if she started to crack.

‘Hey, Hannah,’ Jenny called from where she was standing over by the stacked chairs. ‘Want to go through my lines with me?’

‘Sure,’ Hannah answered, meek and mild and obedient.

Becca had totally forgotten Hannah was even there. While she and Hayley and Tasha were having their little stand-off, Hannah had quietly finished marking out the corners of the stage area and running tape between them to outline the whole area. It wasn’t as neat as she’d wanted but Becca bit her tongue rather than saying anything. It was a two-person job and Hannah had done it by herself. ‘I’m finished here,’ Hannah said, and she flashed a look at Becca, not a fiery one – Hannah could never manage fiery – but one full of reproach and hurt.
Always with the hurt
, Becca thought.
It’s only been five minutes.
Fuck, Hannah needed to grow the fuck up.

If Hayley was doing her best to be friendly, Jenny didn’t have it in her. Or wasn’t capable of it. She couldn’t be standing further away from them if she tried, and every so often she sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand against her nose. She might have started the day wearing foundation but it was long gone now – around her nostrils, anyway. They looked red at the edges, almost scabby, like she had a cold, and her golden hair, Jenny’s pride and joy, was pulled up in a loose bun. She didn’t look so sexy today. She looked twitchy. Too much powder in the toilets, probably. Becca wondered if she should shift her focus to Jenny. Jenny looked ready to burst with whatever was eating her up. She sure as shit couldn’t look at Tasha.

She pulled out her phone, absently checking once more to see if Aiden had texted – he hadn’t – and swore when she saw the time. Nearly half of lunchtime had gone already. She needed to focus if she didn’t want to fuck up later. She looked up at the lighting rig and then at the stage area in the centre of the hall. The way she saw it, the main action would be happening there – Elizabeth, Proctor and Mary Warren, and the heated exchange when Mary returned from the courthouse. Abigail wasn’t actually in the scene but Becca thought Natasha could stand just beyond one corner of the central square – technically offstage and in the aisle. Then, at the point when Elizabeth Proctor realised she’d been accused, the moving rig above would tilt down, pooling Abigail in light and making her visible – but as if she were watching from the shadows, standing under a streetlamp.

If it worked, it would be awesome. But if it didn’t, on their one try this evening, then Mr Jones wouldn’t include it in his directing plans. She might not want to shag him like everyone else seemed to, but she did want to impress him. She wanted to feel she had some creative input into the show rather than being the workhorse behind the curtains.

She moved to the spot where Tasha would stand and checked the position of the rig. Her heart sank.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’

Both Hayley and Tasha looked up from studying their parts. ‘What is it?’ Tasha said.

‘The moving light – the one that needs to be above you, right here – Casey’s positioned it in the wrong place. We should have marked out the stage first. Fuck it.’ She’d been too distracted, that was the problem. Aiden not answering his phone, the Barbies’ craziness, Hannah, everything. God. ‘It’s only a foot or two out, but that’s enough to wreck the effect. It has to be right above you.’

Hayley looked over at the ladder leaning against the wall. ‘Well, can’t you just move it?’

‘I’m shit with heights,’ Becca said. She stared up balefully for a long moment.

‘I’ll do it,’ Hayley said, eventually.

‘Really? That would be so great!’ For a moment, in her wave of relief, Becca almost forgot her mistrust of Hayley and the fact that no one was supposed to touch the lights without having done the lighting course. But it wasn’t like Hayley was doing it without Becca watching, and it wasn’t exactly a difficult job. A Year Seven could do it. ‘It’s really easy,’ she said. ‘Just loosen the clamp bolts on the moving light and slide it along till I tell you to stop, then tighten them up again. And you’ll have to take the safety chain off and loop it through again once it’s moved. The caretaker’s tools are over there – we got the tape from him. There might be a spanner to help tighten them up.’

‘No probs,’ Hayley said, already prepping the ladder. ‘You want to test it out now, too?’

‘No – I can’t get into the control booth until after school. I just want it all in place.’

Natasha and Becca steadied the ladder even though it was quite stable, and Hayley climbed. She didn’t look down once, and at the top she rested one knee on the small silver ledge and started loosening the light with both hands.

‘Okay, where to? Put Natasha wherever she needs to be.’

Becca did as she was told, directing Natasha to stand just beyond one of the corner stage markings, and Hayley took the last step onto the very top of the ladder and leaned out, the chain rattling as she unlooped it and rested it on the ladder while she moved the light. She looked totally at ease, but Becca’s stomach tightened watching her.

‘Be careful!’ It was strange seeing Hayley up there. A flashback to the girl who’d climbed trees.

‘Stop worrying!’

‘Whatever you do,’ Natasha said, ‘don’t drop that light. It looks heavy.’

‘Just all stand back,’ Hayley answered, her voice quiet as she concentrated on pushing the light along, using the secure metal poles of the rig for balance, and then finally relocked the safety chain. ‘Okay, we’re done.’ She rested her hands on her hips, balancing so easily, fifteen feet or more from the ground. ‘
Voilà.
’

‘Thanks, Hayles,’ Becca said when the agile girl was back on the ground. From where Becca was standing, the light looked fine. She felt so awkward.
Why don’t you just tell us what happened, Hayley? Then all this shit can stop.

‘Why don’t you mind your own fucking business!’

Jenny’s voice cut through them all, so uncontrolled and filled with rage that Becca almost jumped.

‘I only asked if you were ill.’ Hannah looked and sounded shell-shocked. She’d taken three steps back. ‘That was all. I was concerned.’

‘I don’t
need
your fucking concern!’ Jenny threw her copy of the play into her bag. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’

‘That’s okay, then.’ Hannah was holding her hands up as if Jenny had pulled a gun on her.

‘Hey,’ Becca said. ‘What’s going on?’

Jenny’s head whipped around and all her attention was suddenly focused on Becca. Rage burned in her bloodshot eyes. ‘What do you care? You’re pathetic. You think we can’t see how happy you are that Tasha’s being all nice to you again? Like you don’t even care about all the shit things she’s said about you, all the times she’s laughed at you?’

‘Shut up, Jenny,’ Hayley muttered. She might as well have stayed silent for all Jenny heard her. She was on a roll and wasn’t stopping.

‘How fucking tragic is that? And you think you know her cos
you were friends first
? How retarded are you? You think people stay the same? Are you the same as you were then, Becca? Maybe you’re still fat on the inside, cos that’s the only way you’d be stupid and needy enough to forget everything that’s ever happened.’

Becca couldn’t speak. She knew she was just standing there with her mouth open and her face burning, but she couldn’t get her brain or tongue to function. Every word was a blow.

‘And you’re such a bitch,’ Jenny said, more softly this time, as if she didn’t have the energy to maintain the fire. ‘You’re a total bitch to Hannah.’

‘I am not!’ Becca said, her voice a little shrill.

‘Yes, you are.’ She looked at Hannah then and spoke more softly still. ‘Hannah, you deserve a better friend than one who dumps you every time she’s summoned by the Queen Bitch.’

‘What’s your problem, Jenny?’ Natasha said. ‘What did I ever do to you? Nothing!’ She was breathing fast, almost panting, and Becca knew how she felt. Her own heart was racing with the awfulness of confrontation, all the girls standing within the marked stage engaged in a heated performance of their own. ‘Why are you two being so weird?’

Jenny laughed. ‘It’s not us avoiding you, Tasha.’

‘I am not avoiding you!’

‘Let’s go, Jen.’ Hayley had reached Jenny’s side and grabbed her arm, but Jenny shook her off. Hayley tried another tack: ‘Come outside while I have a cigarette.’

‘Stop telling me what to do! I’m fine!’ She looked back at Natasha. ‘And if you’re not avoiding us, why did you say you had a hospital visit the Saturday before last when you didn’t? I
saw
Becca coming out of your house. Why couldn’t you just say you didn’t want to see us?’

Hannah looked at Becca. ‘That was my mum’s birthday. I thought you were seeing Aiden after? You said that text was from him?’

‘I didn’t say that, exactly,’ Becca said, suddenly aware that her self-justifying
it’s not quite a lie
at the time now felt very hollow. Why had they come in here at lunchtime? Why hadn’t she just got on with this shit by herself? Even if the light was in the wrong place, that would have been better than this awfulness. ‘You just assumed it was and I didn’t want to say it was Tasha in case it upset you.’ It sounded so lame. It
was
lame.

‘See?’ Jenny said.

For a moment, everything was still, the five girls locked in a silent showdown, emotional wounds leaking into the air and making it heavy. And then, very carefully, Hannah picked up her bag.

‘Hannah . . .’ Becca started, but her friend turned away and started walking to the doors. God, she felt like shit. God, she
was
a shit. Aiden had gone off her and now Hannah hated her.
Well done, Bex
, she thought.
Queen of the fuck-ups. And it’s all your own fault for being such a bitch.

Jenny looked as if she was going to say more, and then the bell rang and broke the moment. Becca could have fallen to her knees in relief. The end of lunch.

Jenny and Hayley left without another word, Hayley sending one long, cool, unreadable look back at them before she followed the dishevelled Jenny out.

‘What the fuck is wrong with Jenny?’ Tasha said. ‘Guilt? About whatever we fought over? About what happened that night? She’s off her face, that’s for sure.’

‘Yeah, probably.’ Becca was only half-listening. She’d text Hannah from English. She’d explain. She’d be a better friend. She’d tell her about all the shit with the Barbies and why she’d been so distant. She’d tell her about Aiden knowing Nicola Munroe. She’d tell her everything she should have told her best mate already.

Her thoughts were desperate, she knew, and probably too little too late. She’d seen Hannah’s face. It was hurt but also angry. No one liked to be pitied – Becca knew that from personal experience – and no one liked to be lied to out of pity. She’d done both.

‘Don’t worry,’ Tasha said. ‘She’ll come round.’

‘I know.’ Becca tried to smile but she felt sick. She didn’t know at all. She wasn’t relishing the idea of English with Hayley and Jenny now, either. She just wanted some breathing space. And for Aiden to text her the fuck back.

‘Oh, fuck it all,’ she said suddenly. ‘The caretaker’s tools.’

‘Don’t stress it,’ Tasha said, grabbing the box. ‘I’ve got a free – I’ll take them back.’ She suddenly wrapped her other arm around Becca and squeezed her close. Her hair was soft and smelled of apple.

‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bex,’ she said. ‘I really don’t. Thanks for being my friend again. Those two are both weirding me out.’ She pulled back. ‘Now get your shit together and I’ll see you later.’

As she left, Becca felt her stomach untangle slightly. Hannah would get over it. She’d have to. Maybe she and Tasha would even become friends. Tasha
needed
Becca. She could trust Becca. Once Becca explained, once they’d figured out what actually happened that night and what Hayley and Jenny had done, then Hannah would understand why Becca had been weird. She’d have to, otherwise she’d be a pretty shit human being, and she wasn’t. And if she didn’t understand, then maybe it was time they stopped being friends. Like Jenny said: people change.

Thirty-Four

It was a small room with a standard-issue desk, Jamie and Aiden on one side, Caitlin Bennett and her sergeant on the other. The walls were blue but there was nothing vivid in the colour. A dead blue. Drained of life. Dulled into despair. It still somehow managed to clash with the green industrial carpet and black plastic chairs. Combined with the sickly yellow strip lights and lack of windows, the effect was mildly claustrophobic. Jamie suspected that was intentional. A clunky tape-recording machine sat on the shelf and was rolling, though it wasn’t getting much from Aiden to save for later. He’d been mostly silent through the opening questions other than acknowledging who he was.

He was scared, Jamie could see it even if Caitlin Bennett couldn’t. Or maybe Bennett had seen too many scared young men sitting in interview and didn’t have time to be sympathetic. Plus fear and guilt weren’t mutually exclusive – maybe guilty people were more scared than the innocent. Still, looking at Aiden it would be easy to mistake that fear for surly arrogance. He’d pushed his chair back slightly and his long legs were stretched out in front of him, one foot over the other. His arms were folded across his chest and dark hair hung over his eyes, slicing across the sharp blue of his irises as he scowled at the cheap Formica tabletop. He hadn’t touched his tea and a brown film had formed on the surface as it cooled.

‘Your version of events presents a problem for me, Aiden,’ she said coolly. ‘You said you dropped Rebecca Crisp at her house at midnight and then went straight home in the early morning of Saturday ninth January. Why would you say that?’

Jamie looked at the kid, who still refused to lift his eyes. ‘Whatever’s going on, just tell her the truth, mate,’ he said. ‘If you haven’t done anything wrong then there’s no point in lying.’ He wondered if he was being naïve. Criminal law hadn’t been his speciality, but there were plenty of cases of the police charging the wrong man. Or at least arresting them and letting the media wreck their lives before fresh evidence proved their innocence.