‘I’ve been trying to get Ursula to go. I’ve told her that if Chloe can point the finger at who did this, I’ll protect them. They don’t need to worry about the attacker hurting them. Even if she stays with Steve, I’ll protect them. She won’t listen to me, though.’
Poor, poor Chloe. She was a victim of James Harvey’s, too. I wanted to rush round there and hold her, tell her that everything would be all right. And that she had to inform the authorities what had happened. Clearly the police had managed to get evidence against James, and an arrest was imminent, but it would be even better if I could persuade an eyewitness to come forward.
Sixty-Eight
BETH
THURSDAY 21 JANUARY
Beth sat cross-legged on the bed, skipping through her music, looking for something decent to play. But her mind wasn’t on what she was doing.
‘You really think we’ll get away with it?’
‘Of course! Like, when was the last time your mum called mine to check you were staying?’ Chloe’s voice was confident, strident. She always seemed so sure of herself.
‘Not in ages and ages. At least a year,’ Beth conceded.
‘And the last time my mum called yours to check?’
‘Umm, dunno.’
‘Ages! Exactly! So if I tell Mum I’m staying here, and you tell your parents you’re staying with me…’
‘We’ll be free to stay out all night and no one will know.’ Beth shivered, but not with fear. With excitement.
But a thought occurred to her. ‘What about our clothes? And Mum won’t let me out of the house with make-up on.’
‘Got it totally covered. We can get changed in the cricket pavilion. Mum’s got a copy of the key from doing the refreshments every summer. Then we can be out all night, and get changed again before we go home. Oh, and no dumping me to spend time with James bloody Harvey, if he’s there.’
‘I wouldn’t!’
‘Oh, come off it. I know how much you love him. Don’t know what you see in him, myself. He gives me the creeps. It’s like he’s hiding something.’
‘You and your overactive imagination,’ Beth teased.
‘This is so cool. I can’t believe you managed to score free tickets to this!’
Beth warmed at the praise. All the teenagers at school were talking about the rave; the older ones looking forward to it, the younger ones wishing they could go. It was all the cooler because no adults knew, and everyone with an invite through Snapchat was sworn to secrecy. Beth and Chloe would be the only ones there in their year – they were the envy of all their friends.
So the plan was set. The girls moved on to hair and make-up, without a second thought for the deception they were weaving.
The next morning, Beth asked her mum if she could stay with her BFF that night.
Sixty-Nine
‘Ursula, I’m sorry, I know you told me to stay away,’ I gabbled, the second the Clarkes’ front door opened. It rapidly started to close again.
‘I know!’ I shouted.
The crack widened. Ursula stood in her immaculate cream hallway, her perfectly made-up face looking tired and drawn beneath the foundation. Her hand seemed to fall in slow motion, the door opening wide. We stood looking at each other for ten long seconds. I didn’t know what to do; she stood as though inviting me in, but wasn’t saying anything.
Finally, I walked in. Murmured, ‘Thanks.’
As I entered the hallway, Chloe walked down the stairs. She rubbed her face with her hands, shoulders hunched. I knew instinctively she had heard what I’d said.
When we were all in the living room, I sat down on the red sofa, which stood out like a bloodstain against the cream surroundings. I tried to smile, tried to radiate calm into the tension of the room. Ursula and her daughter stood looking at me as if I had a loaded weapon trained on them.
‘I’ve pieced it together,’ I said. ‘You were with Beth when she was attacked.’
There was a low moan of despair, whether from Chloe or her mum I couldn’t tell.
‘You don’t need to be afraid of anyone – but please, you have to go to the police.’
‘No, no, no!’ The same moan. Chloe. She shook her body from side to side.
‘No. No!’ Her voice louder now, a scream of terror. Fists flying. She hit herself, beating at her body.
Her mum rushed forward, making frantic soothing noises. Trying to wrap her arms around her daughter and stop her from hurting herself. She fell back, knocked away. Wisps of burgundy hair floated to the ground, torn from your best friend’s scalp. Ursula flung herself forward again, wrapping her in a bear hug that pinned her arms against her sides.
‘What did he do to you?’ I whispered, horrified. ‘What did James Harvey do?’
‘No. No. No. No,’ sobbed Chloe.
Her mum hushed her in a lullaby voice. They rocked together.
The front door opening made me jump, but Ursula didn’t flinch, simply carried on soothing.
‘Hush, my love, hush now.’
‘What’s going on?’ Steve’s voice was sharp.
Ursula looked at him over Chloe’s shoulder and said nothing, simply shook her head.
I walked over to him and lowered my voice to a reassuring pitch.
‘I came over because I wanted to try to persuade Chloe to go to the police. I know she was there when—’
He grabbed hold of the top of my arm and I gasped in pain. His fingers were like a vice, sinking into my flesh even through my padded jacket. He lowered his face to mine, his breath blasting my face. His chocolate-brown eyes were bloodshot, and sweat blossomed on his forehead.
‘What do you want? Money? I’ll give you money. If it will stop you going to the police.’
‘What? I… I don’t want money, Steve. I want justice for both our girls.’
He gave a hollow laugh. The despair in it terrified me. I twisted, trying to pull free, and he seemed to come to his senses, suddenly letting me go so that I stumbled backward, towards the front door.
Something in his eyes scared me, Beth. I fumbled for the lock and flung the door open. Ran to my car and drove away as quickly as possible, shaking like a leaf.
Seventy
BETH
FRIDAY 22 JANUARY
The full moon lit the way for them, along with the torch apps on their phones, but it was a miserable walk along the narrow lane that ran from outside the village to the marsh. It made Beth wonder if she should call an end to the plan and go home.
Chloe seemed to sense her friend’s dissatisfaction, but instead of providing encouragement, they bickered.
‘So, why are you carrying your new boots instead of wearing them? I mean, we’ve left our rucksacks hidden in the cricket pavilion, and then you insist on bringing a carrier bag? And you look such a loser in those flat boots.’
‘Because there’s no way I could have walked all the way from the village to the marsh in those platforms!’