13 Minutes (27 page)

add Tasha to fb?????

A pause. It felt like for ever before his reply came back.

Are u stalking my fb??

Really??

Her rage swallowed her shame.

Answer the questions!!

Tears came now. She’d held them back while thinking of Hannah, but she couldn’t any longer. How shit was that? Hannah was dead but it was the thought of Aiden leaving her that made her cry.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

No time for this.

She let out a grunt of rage and nearly flung the phone into the bushes. Now she felt hurt
and
stupid. Why did she have to do that? Why couldn’t she have just let it ride and waited? But then why couldn’t he have just told her? And why was he being so cold about it? After everything that had happened, everything she’d been through – was
still
going through – why couldn’t he just be nice? He knew she got a bit mental sometimes, why couldn’t he just reassure her? Why was she always the one having to apologise for being a dick?

She strode home in a haze, slamming the door and racing upstairs to the sanctuary of her room before her mum could corner her. She threw herself down on the bed and started to cry. She pretended she was crying for Hannah, but she knew that wasn’t true. Pathetic as it was, she was crying for herself.

Forty-Two

The sun shone, bringing Hannah into the spotlight in front of a crowd for the first and last time in her short, unlived life. Becca wondered if it made her feel uncomfortable. If she could feel anything at all. She glanced sideways at Tasha, her face half-hidden behind big Californian-style dark glasses as they came out of the church and milled in the graveyard and car park. She wished she’d thought to wear shades. Instead, her face was blotchy and tear-stained and her discomfort was clear for all to see. And a lot of people had come. The church had been standing-room-only for the short service.

She’d tried to catch Hannah’s mum’s eyes but either she was lost in her own grief or she was avoiding looking at Becca. It made Becca’s stomach squirm. She couldn’t see Aiden or Jamie McMahon. She figured they must be somewhere at the back. Hannah’s dad said a few words and the vicar did the same, and then they’d announced that there would be a memorial service for their daughter in a few months’ time. They needed time to accept her loss first.

‘Who will come then?’ Tasha had whispered quietly, and although it was a cruel thought, it was a true one. Hannah’s celebrity would fade fast.

Becca was glad to escape the church. She hadn’t liked looking at the coffin sitting at the front and imagining Hannah, cold and blue, inside it. She kept picturing her eyes opening full of dead anger and wanting revenge. Who would she come for? Hayley or Becca?

‘That was horrible,’ Becca said, really wanting to light a cigarette. Behind the two girls, their four parents were talking quietly, in that way adults did, as if they understood all of this so much better than the teenagers. As if they had some special magic that gave them insight. It was all bullshit. ‘I hated seeing her there, you know? I couldn’t help thinking she could hear or something.’

‘She’s dead,’ Tasha said. Becca couldn’t see her eyes, but her mouth tightened. ‘I’ve been dead, remember. There’s nothing.’ She paused. ‘Oh, god, here they come.’ Becca looked up. A small flurry of femininity was heading their way, hair styled and black outfits just that little bit too tight and that little bit too well thought out for proper grief.
Barbies-in-waiting.
There’d be pictures on Instagram later.

They wafted towards Tasha, clinging to the space around her like cheap perfume. They didn’t even glance at Becca but still managed to crowd her out without even noticing as they gushed about Hayley and Jenny and Hannah and how terrible it was but how happy they were that Tasha was okay. All so typical.

Behind her, Becca’s mum hadn’t noticed her isolation. Her head was tilted slightly as she listened to Alison Howland, one arm around the small of the woman’s back. Both were pristine, of course, but Alison slightly took the edge on easy glamour.
Sorry, Mum
, Becca thought, watching them as one listened and one spoke.
You were never a Barbie either, were you?

‘I want those bracelets back,’ Alison said, tearfully. ‘Natasha chose them herself, you know? Those girls were her best friends. I thought they loved her.’

‘I just don’t understand it,’ Becca’s mum answered. ‘Why they would go to such lengths? I didn’t know Jenny but Hayley, when she used to come round and play, was always such a bright little thing. Pretty, too. Poor Natasha . . .’

Becca zoned them out, just as Vicki Springer carefully elbowed her way past into the sacred circle around Tasha. She barely noticed. Even her own mother felt more sorry for Tasha than for either Becca or poor dead Hannah. She scanned the crowd, looking for Aiden, but instead saw Amanda Alderton. Hannah’s mum was at least a stone thinner than when Becca last saw her, and was politely greeting strangers. She looked pale and exhausted. Pain was etched in her every movement, all her bubbly humour gone as if it had been an illusion. Becca felt sick looking at her, but took a deep breath and forced herself forward. She’d liked the Aldertons, she realised. Even when she’d mocked them internally there had been something warm about their company.
Too little, too late, Bex
, she told herself.
As if you liking them makes a difference now.
There’ll be no more family lunches. No more sandwiches in their kitchen.
That thought made the truth of it all hit home harder than even seeing the coffin had done, and before she’d even reached Hannah’s mum the tears had come, almost from nowhere, hot and wet on her cheeks.

She sniffed hard, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, not caring how it looked. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ She stared up at the woman, her eyes pleading. She needed to know they were okay with her. She needed Hannah’s mum to hug her, to tell her it was all going to be okay.

She didn’t do either. They stood facing each other for a moment, Becca crying and Amanda all contained grief. Through the blur, Becca couldn’t read the woman’s expression, but she was aware of others nearby – Mark Pritchard, less cocky than usual, was just alongside them, head down and talking to James Ensor. They both looked up.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated, more quietly this time, barely more than a whisper.

‘We don’t blame you, Rebecca,’ Hannah’s mum said. She didn’t touch her, though, and there was little warmth in her voice.
Rebecca.
It was so formal. ‘We know Hannah’s death wasn’t your fault.’

‘Thank you,’ Becca said. ‘I loved her, you know. She was my best friend.’ She wiped her eyes, clearing her vision.

‘Yes, she was.’ Amanda Alderton drew herself up an inch taller. ‘She was a good friend to you. It’s a pity you were so easily distracted.’ She turned her back then, and it was like a slap in the face to Becca. Her mouth fell open. Of course Hannah had talked to her mum about Becca. Hannah talked to her mum about
everything
.

‘I wasn’t . . .’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to . . .’ But Amanda Alderton was no longer listening. The sunlight, barely cutting through the February cold, was suddenly too bright. Becca didn’t want to be there. She didn’t want to be anywhere. She wanted to run back into the church and fling herself on Hannah’s coffin and beg for her forgiveness.

‘She doesn’t mean it.’

Becca jumped slightly and then sank into relief. It was Tasha, free of her new acolytes.

‘I imagine by the time the memorial comes around she’ll want you to do a reading or something.’ The cremation, that afternoon, was family only. Becca was doubly relieved she didn’t have to watch that after her exchange with Amanda. Natasha nodded at the crowds that were slowly dispersing, getting back to their own lives. ‘You can spot the police a mile off. There – by Jamie and Aiden.’

Becca looked up. Aiden was smoking under the trees, Jamie alongside him. Her heart managed to leap and sink simultaneously. She needed to speak to him. To make things better.

‘See?’ Tasha said. ‘By the exit.’ Becca dragged her eyes away and clocked the police straight away. Four men by the church gates, wearing suits but not involved, facing out towards the journalists no doubt waiting to get more pictures to fill their morbid pages. Two of the officers pulled their phones out at the same time. Signalled one of the others.

‘Something’s going on,’ Becca muttered, frowning.

‘Something’s always going on,’ Tasha said. ‘They’re policemen. It’s probably nothing to do with us.’ She linked her arm through Becca’s. ‘Come on, let’s go and talk to Jamie and Aiden.’

It was what Becca wanted to do . . . but she really didn’t want to do it with Tasha in tow. Her mum had made her leave her phone at home as
a mark of respect
,
whatever that meant, and no amount of sighing and begging could make her change her mind, so she had no idea if he’d texted her or not. If he had, she didn’t want him to think she was being moody with him, and she had no way of knowing if he hadn’t so she didn’t know if she
should
be moody with him. God, love wasn’t meant to be this
hard
, was it?

She inwardly bitched at her mum. It was probably nothing to do with respect, she just didn’t want any photos in the paper of Becca playing with her phone during the funeral of the friend she inadvertently murdered. To be fair, neither did Becca. Especially not after that conversation with Amanda Alderton. But that wasn’t the point.

‘Hi, girls,’ Jamie said. ‘How are you coping?’

‘Just an awful day,’ Natasha said. ‘It’s still surreal. Isn’t it, Bex?’

‘Yeah. Horrible.’

Aiden looked up at her from under his fringe. Normally she found his long hair pretty hot, but right now it felt like he was using it as a barrier between them. He didn’t touch her, or take her hand. ‘You okay?’

She nodded. ‘I will be.’

‘Becca’s been amazing,’ Tasha gushed. ‘I’d have been lost without her.’

‘You look well,’ Jamie said. ‘And I hear your memory’s come back?’

Becca let their conversation drone out. Her pulse thumped in her ears. ‘Can we talk?’ she said, softly, taking Aiden’s arm and pulling him slightly away from the other two. ‘You know, about last night. I was upset and maybe overreacted and—’

‘You always overreact, Bex.’ He sounded tired. Worn down. ‘Why do you think I don’t always tell you everything?’

‘What do you mean, you don’t always tell me stuff?’

‘See? You’re doing it again. You really want to do this now?’ He was looking at her like she was a child and it stung. Her face burned. Did she want to do this?

‘I don’t want to fight or anything,’ she said, hating how needy she sounded. ‘I just wanted to say sorry.’
But I still really want to know who Emma is and how come you’re one of Tasha’s Facebook friends
. She bit the thought back.

‘You always say sorry,’ Aiden said. ‘And you always mean it at the time. But it never stops all your jealousy and insecurity. It does my head in.’

‘I don’t mean it, I—’ Tears came, hot and hard as he cut her off.

‘Emma is just a friend of mine. She works in a bar. After I dropped you off that night I went for a drink and then we went and got stoned by the river and fell asleep in my car. She told the police and they let me go.’

‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ Becca said. ‘I wouldn’t have minded.’ But even as she said the words she knew it was a lie. She did mind. She thought that was their place. That was where
they
went. And who was this girl that he could be such good friends with her and not ever mention her? Did they have history?
Emma.
Probably cool and older. Not a pathetic teenager like she was.

‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ he said, lighting another cigarette. His hands were shaking as he offered her one. She took it. She didn’t care what her mum might say or whether the photographers saw it.

‘I didn’t want to do this here,’ he said.

‘Do what?’
Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.
‘Don’t you love me any more?’ There it was. The whiny question.

‘Nothing’s ever as simple as that.’ He couldn’t look her in the eye. ‘Of course I still care about you.’ He shuffled his feet as Becca’s world stopped still. He was going to do it. He really was. ‘But this has been a shitty couple of weeks. For both of us. I think maybe we need some time on our own. To figure things out. You know.’

She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. ‘It’s Hannah’s funeral,’ was all she could manage to say.

‘I didn’t want to do it here.’ He sounded so lame. He
was
lame. Suddenly she was filled with rage.

‘Why the
fuck
did you even come today?’ she asked. Jamie and Tasha looked over, the sharpness in her voice like a knife through the air. ‘Why?’

‘I thought you might . . .’ Suddenly he was the one on the back foot and it felt good to Becca. She cut him off. Whatever he was going to say, it was bullshit.

‘You know me. You knew I’d want to talk about it. So if you didn’t want to do it here,
why did you come
?’

‘I didn’t think,’ he muttered.

‘Hey, you two—’ Jamie tried to intervene but Becca flashed him a glare that shut him up. This wasn’t his business and he wasn’t her dad and he hadn’t saved her from drowning. He could shut the fuck up.

‘You didn’t come here for me. You came for yourself. You wanted to feel better and you know I can’t freak out here
at my best friend’s funeral
.’ She took a deep, shaky breath and wiped away her tears. ‘Maybe you should just leave.’ She turned and stomped off towards the gates, still clutching her cigarette.

‘Becca?’ Tasha called after her. Becca didn’t pause. She couldn’t look back. If she did, Aiden would see how her heart was breaking. She leaned against the wall and inhaled hard, even though the camera lenses in the road glinted at her. She didn’t care. Fuck them. Fuck all of them. She let the smoke burn her lungs as her legs shook and her hands trembled.