Skin Deep (22 page)

The rush of relief nearly made me faint. Not Ryan. Not Karen.

Then it hit me. Steven. ‘How . . . did he . . .?’

‘Ted said his head had been beaten in,’ she said bleakly. ‘They think it’s murder.’

My first thought was,
Good
!

The second was,
I shouldn’t be thinking that
. Followed by,
But it’s all over now
. A cycle had been broken. I’d never have to see Steven again. Never have to avoid him or see him with another girl, showing how he didn’t care what he’d done to my best friend. Dad could stop his stupid campaign and we could go back to some sort of normal. Maybe I wouldn’t even mind my face so much now because it felt like justice had finally been done.

I knew I should feel some regret, some pity for him. But right then I didn’t feel anything other than release.

Slowly, as I looked from Mum to Dad, I began to realise that they weren’t feeling the same way. Nor were they upset at another life snuffed out, or sorry for his parents, or anything like that. They were scared.

Dad twisted his fingers in his palms. ‘The police may come round later. They may want to talk to us.’ He sounded as if it was a struggle to keep his voice steady.

I groped through a fog towards something I couldn’t quite see. Something dangerous was lurking just out of sight. ‘Why?’

Mum took hold of my hand. ‘Your dad stopped off to see David Morris before he came home last night. When he came out, manure was smeared all over the car. Over the windscreen, the windows, even stuffed up the exhaust.’

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I saw Dad’s knuckles turn white and strained. Manure . . . David Morris . . . Charlotte’s dad lived on the other side of the village to us, and Dad would only be over there for something to do with his campaign group. And Steven Carlisle would know that too . . .

‘Cow manure. Probably from the heifers in the field next to David’s house. David and your dad cleaned it off before he drove home. He stopped in the village to put the latest newsletters in the postbox, and Steven was sitting outside with some others. When your dad went past, Steven mooed at him, and his friends laughed and joined in. It was obvious he’d messed the car up. There was a row and Dad threatened him with the police. Steven spat in his face and your dad lost his temper and pushed him over.’

‘I didn’t have to push him hard. He was drunk. He fell off the kerb and into the gutter,’ Dad said.

I turned to him. ‘Is Mum trying to tell me you killed him? That he hit his head when you pushed him?’ I could hear myself saying the words, but inside I screamed that it couldn’t be true. Dad could never . . . never . . . not even Steven. My dad got faint at the sight of blood. He’d never so much as smacked Charlie or me once, no matter how badly we’d behaved when we were little.

Mum gripped my hand harder. ‘Of course not. He was fine when your dad drove off. On his feet and yelling. But the police are bound to want to question Dad. They . . . they may want to take him to the station. We don’t know.’

‘But it’s a possibility,’ Dad said.

‘You didn’t do it,’ I said. A statement rather than a question because my dad . . . No, just no.

He took hold of my other hand. ‘God knows, Jenna, I’ve wanted him dead, for him to have died in that crash so many times, but –’

‘Clive! Don’t say things like that.’ Mum’s eyes widened with fear. ‘Jenna, you mustn’t tell the police your dad said that.’

I snatched my hand from hers. ‘Don’t be stupid, Mum. I’m not an idiot.’

‘I know you’re not, but I’m so worried I can’t think straight.’ She clutched her head as if it hurt. ‘And what are we going to tell Charlie? He mustn’t know. He’s too young.’

Dad pulled my hand closer. ‘I don’t want you going out alone. Or Charlie. If that boy was murdered then whoever did it could still be in the area and . . .’

But I stopped listening. The force of the thought that hit me was so hard I nearly cried out. Dad wasn’t the only one who’d had a fight with Steven last night. What if the police found out about that?

No . . . no . . . no . . .

I got up, knocking the chair over.

‘I feel a bit sick. I’m going to lie down.’

And I ran out.

Mum fussed after me as far as the stairs. ‘It’s the shock. Do you want me to come and sit with you?’

I shook my head and fled.

The ceiling whirled above me as I lay on my bed.

Ryan said he had a fight with Steven . . . and he was so upset. I’d never seen him like that before. He couldn’t have though. I hadn’t known him that long, but even so . . .

What if he’d hit Steven and he’d fallen and cracked his skull? Maybe Ryan had run off and didn’t even realise Steven was dead. He’d been drunk. Had he done it and not known? But he’d seemed more cut up about his mum than the fight with Steven. Then again, if he couldn’t remember . . .

I reached for the phone beside my bed. One missed text message.

I didn’t know if I could speak to him right now. I didn’t know what to say.

I held the phone tight and stared up at spinning black spots on the ceiling. He couldn’t have killed Steven. How could I even think it? But someone had.

I heard the rap on the door and then Mum answering it.

Low male voices. Authoritative.

They were here then.

The phone rang, making me jump, and I dropped it on the floor before I could answer it.

‘Ryan?’

‘Yes. Listen, something’s happened. The police found a body.’

‘I know. Do you know who it was?’ Jenna sounded odd. Odd enough to make me tense up.

‘No.’

‘Steven Carlisle.’

‘Oh fuck . . .’

‘Ryan . . .’ And she stopped. The pause was a question that made a chill run down my back. Not accusing – not that. More tentative.

‘It wasn’t me.’ Oh Christ, please believe, it wasn’t me.

Her silence went on, freezing into my bones until the marrow tingled. And then, ‘You were drunk . . .’

 ‘No! No, I swear! I told you what happened. He was fine. He ran off and he was fine.’

Another pause.

‘Maybe you just didn’t notice . . . ?’

‘No. I came straight to yours, and yes, I blacked out then, but that was when I went to sleep.’

I heard her breathe out. ‘OK.’

‘Do you believe me?’

‘Yes.’ She said it with absolute conviction.

The relief squeezed me so hard it made my eyes sting. ‘Jenna, I’ve got to go. The police just arrived. The body was found near here. Mum says to tell them I was with her. I don’t want to get you in trouble.’

‘It’s OK, don’t worry. Call me when they’re gone. It’ll be fine.’ I knew from her voice she thought I was scared.

‘You promise you believe me?’

‘I promise. Go, before they get suspicious. Call me straight after. Don’t worry about my parents. Just call.’

Someone knocked on my door and I flipped the phone shut. Mum pushed the door open. A policeman stood behind her.

‘Sorry, I’m coming,’ I said, scrambling up. ‘I was just going to call work.’

The policeman hovered over Mum, a fluorescent-jacketed giant. ‘Where do you work?’

‘The marina in Whitmere.’

His face relaxed a bit. ‘With Bill?’

‘Yeah?’

He smiled. ‘He’s my uncle. He said they’d taken a new lad on last time I went for a pint with him. Come through and answer some questions for us.’

The other policeman stood up when we came in. He was the one who asked the questions. Bill’s nephew made notes in a pad.

‘Were you here on the boat yesterday evening?’

‘Yes,’ Mum said. ‘All night. Oh wait, Ryan went to the shop in the village for me before it closed. But he got back before seven.’

‘Must have done,’ I added. ‘It closes at half six.’

‘Did either of you go outside again at any point in the evening? See or hear anything?’

‘No, I was up quite late, but Ryan went to bed early because he had to be up at seven. He works Saturday mornings.’

I nodded in agreement.

The policeman passed over a picture. ‘Do you know this boy?’

Mum looked blank. ‘No. I don’t know anyone round here other than a few people in the town who stock my jewellery.’

‘I know him.’ I passed the picture back. There was no point hiding it. They’d know soon enough if I lied. ‘Well, not know him exactly, but I know who he is. His name’s Steven Carlisle. He lives somewhere round here.’

‘Right, had any dealings with him?’

 ‘I had an argument with him at the Rugby Club party the other Saturday. We ended up in a scuffle. He mouthed off at me over this girl I know and I gave him some grief back. Wasn’t much.’

‘What did he say to you?’

‘Just stuff about me being a traveller, and he was rude about my friend. It was weeks ago. Haven’t seen him since.’

Mum glared. ‘You never told me that.’

‘Nothing worth telling. Wasn’t a big deal.’

‘This friend,’ the policeman said, ‘who is she?’

Shit! ‘Jenna Reed. He –’

The two men exchanged a glance. ‘I take it you know about the circumstances there?’ the second asked.

‘Yeah and I couldn’t believe he was so harsh about her, not after that.’

‘Is she your girlfriend?’

I paused. How did I answer this one? ‘Yes,’ I said in the end. ‘She wasn’t then, but she is now. Only she hasn’t told her parents yet. It’s only really recent. I mean, we’ve been friends for a while, but she’s younger than me and it isn’t anything heavy. Just . . . er . . . we like each other, you know.’

I had a feeling Bill’s nephew was trying not to laugh, but that was better than him thinking I was a psycho killer.

‘He didn’t tell me that either,’ Mum said, fixing me with a death glare. ‘Jenna comes round often. Lovely girl.’

‘Was sort of waiting for the right time,’ I mumbled.

 ‘I can’t see why you thought you needed a right time. You know I like her.’

‘I was waiting for her to tell her mum,’ I mumbled again. ‘Just thought it’d be more polite.’

The policeman started up the questions again. ‘Do you know if Jenna had any contact with Carlisle recently?’

‘No, she avoids him. Mostly if she’s out in the village, she’s with me. I go with her when she takes her dog for a walk. She doesn’t go out much.’ I waved at my face. ‘People staring upsets her.’

They both nodded sympathetically.

‘So why’re you asking about Carlisle? What’s he done now?’

‘It’s his body.’

Mum clapped her hand over her mouth.

I shrank back in the chair, hoping my shock looked genuine. ‘What happened?’

‘We can’t say much at present. The forensics team are there now. But we are treating his death as suspicious.’

‘Shit! Oh, sorry, it’s just . . . I didn’t expect that. I mean, I didn’t like the guy myself, but who’d want to . . . to kill him?’ I leaned forward. ‘Look, I know you’re not allowed to say much but my mum’s here on her own all day and –’

‘Don’t worry about your mum – our lads will be swarming all over this place for days. It’s probably the safest place she could be.’

‘Could you tell them she’s on her own here? You know, if they see anyone strange round the boat . . .’

‘We’ll have a word. Don’t worry.’

‘Thanks.’ I rubbed my face to get some feeling back in it. It was numb from the shock. Real shock. I mean, murder? I’d assumed he’d been pissed and fallen in the canal or something. I’d never thought anyone had actually done him in.

‘What happened to you?’ The policeman smiled and pointed at my cheek. I wasn’t fooled by him trying to slip that one in casually.

I faked a touch of shame. ‘Came off my bike last night. Hit a pothole in the dark and got smacked in the face by the handlebars.’

He quirked his eyebrows at me. ‘Too busy thinking about the girlfriend?’

I laughed sheepishly. ‘Yeah.’

He chuckled, with that ‘I remember when I was young’ look adults always get when you talk about girls and stuff.

They took my statement and then they left. As soon as they were safely clear, Mum rounded on me.

‘Well, you deserve an Oscar for that! You knew it was that boy, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah, Jenna called to tell me, but I thought it was an accident.’

‘Huh! You even had me convinced with what you spouted – worrying about me with a murderer on the loose.’

‘Hey, I meant that. I am.’

She glared at me again, and then came to sit on the arm of my chair. ‘Oh, stop looking so hurt. I hate it when you do that. You make me feel like I should call the NSPCC and report myself for abuse.’ She stroked my face. ‘I’m sorry I hit you before. I was scared for you.’

‘I didn’t do it, Mum.’