‘Good, because this is totally off the record. Like, if you ever tell anyone I said any of this, I’m going to say it’s all bullshit and you made it up to get back in Detective Dildo’s good books.’
Like I was a journalist. I was halfway through thinking na?ve when she added, ‘And my dad’ll ring your boss and tell him the same thing. Which, trust me, you don’t want.’
Not so na?ve. I said, ‘Not a problem.’
Joanne said, ‘Go on. Tell him.’
‘Well,’ Gemma said. Touched her tongue to her top lip, but it was autopilot, buying time while she got her head straight. ‘OK. You know about Ro, right? Ronan, who used to be a groundskeeper here?’
‘You guys arrested him,’ Orla put in helpfully. She was bright-eyed, loving it. ‘For selling drugs.’
I said, ‘I know the story, yeah.’
Gemma said, ‘He dealt a lot of stuff. Like, mostly hash and E, but if you wanted something else, he could usually get it.’
Still messing with bits of grass snagged in her tights. I couldn’t tell for sure in the flexing light, but it looked like she’d gone red.
Joanne said, ‘Gems’s diet wasn’t exactly working.’ Gave Gemma’s waist a malicious little pinch.
‘I just wanted to lose like a couple more pounds. Big deal; doesn’t everyone? So I asked Ronan if he could get me something to help.’
Flicker of a glance, Gemma looking for something from me, badly scared of not getting it. I said, hoping, ‘Must’ve worked. You definitely don’t need to be losing any weight now.’
Relief curving her mouth. This was a whole other world: admitting you had hassle getting thin was scarier than telling a cop you’d bought speed. ‘Yeah, well. Whatever. Anyway. How you bought stuff from Ronan was, right, Wednesday and Friday afternoons he was the only groundskeeper on shift, so you went down to the shed after school and you hung around outside till you saw him. Then you went in and he got the stuff out of this cupboard. You totally weren’t supposed to go into the shed unless you saw him there; he said he’d bar you if he caught you inside on your own. I guess in case someone robbed his stash.’
Joanne and Orla were wiggling themselves along the grass, in closer to me. Open-mouthed, starry-eyed.
‘So this one Wednesday,’ Gemma said, ‘it’s pissing rain, and I go down and I can’t see Ro. I wait under the trees for a while, but in the end, come on, I’m not going to stand there all day freezing my nips off? So I head into the shed. I figure Ronan can just deal with it. He knew me by then; I wasn’t some randomer.’
Shiver from the other two, anticipating.
Gemma said, ‘And there’s Rebecca O’Mara. Like, the last person you’d expect? She jumped a mile – I swear to God I thought she was going to faint. I start laughing and I’m like, “Oh my God, what are you doing here? Looking for your crack fix?”’
Swirl of laughter, in the dark teeming air.
‘Rebecca’s all, “Oh, I was just getting out of the rain,” and I’m there, “Yeah, OK.” The school’s like half a minute away, and she’s wearing her coat and her hat, meaning she actually deliberately came out into the rain. And if she’s so shy, how come she’s hiding somewhere she’s going to run into big scary groundskeepers?’
Gemma had herself back. The story was coming out easy, confident. It sounded true. ‘So I go, “Planning on doing some gardening?” – there were all these shovels and stuff in the corner where she was; she had one of them in her hand, like she’d grabbed it when I came in, in case I was a psycho rapist and she had to fight me off. And she actually goes, “Um, um, I guess, sort of, I was thinking about—” till I decide to put her out of her misery. I’m there, “Puh-lease, you didn’t think I was serious?” And she just stares at me for a moment, like, Bwuh? and then she goes, “I have to go,” and she runs out into the rain and heads back to the school.’
She must have put down the shovel, before she ran out. Shovel, or spade, or hoe. Left it there to come back for, now she knew what she wanted.
The meteor in the palm of my hand. Beautiful. Burning me through, with a welcome white fire.
If there was anything in my face, the tricky light would hide it for me. I made sure my voice stayed easy. ‘Did Ronan see her?’
Shrug from Gemma. ‘Don’t think so. He didn’t get there till a few minutes later – he’d been waiting somewhere for the rain to ease off. He was kind of pissed off that I was inside, but he got over it.’ Smile, reminiscent.
Joanne was close to me. ‘See? All that pure-and-innocent stuff, that is ohmyGod such crap. Everyone else totally falls for it, but we knew you wouldn’t.’
I said, ‘Did Ronan sell anything else besides drugs? Booze? Cigarettes?’ Sometimes they’d had the odd smoke, Holly had said; and the packet hidden in Julia’s bit of wardrobe. Rebecca could still have had an innocent reason for being in that shed; guilty kind of innocent, but innocent all the same.
Gemma snorted. ‘Right. And fizzy lollies.’
Orla was giggling. ‘Phone credit.’
‘Mascara.’
‘Tights.’
‘Tampax.’
That exploded the two of them, shrieking laughter, Orla fell over backwards onto the grass kicking her legs up. Joanne cut through it. Coldly: ‘He wasn’t a supermarket. Rebecca wasn’t buying chocolate chip cookies.’
Gemma got herself together. ‘Yeah. He just sold the bad stuff.’ Lascivious curl on bad. ‘I’d love to know what she actually was buying.’
Joanne shrugged. ‘Not diet pills, anyway. Unless she’s anorexic, and I don’t think she even has enough self-respect to bother. She doesn’t even wear makeup.’
‘Probably hash.’ Orla, knowing.
‘What kind of loser does hash by herself? OhmyGod, that’s so sad.’
‘She could’ve been buying for all four of them.’
‘Hello, like they’d send her? If they were all in on it, they’d send Julia or Holly. Rebecca was there because she wanted something.’
‘Ro’s hot body.’
‘Ew ew ew, pass the brain bleach?’
They were on the edge of getting the giggles again. I said, ‘When was this?’
That brought them back. Quick spatter of glances under their lashes. Joanne said, ‘We were wondering when you’d ask.’
‘Last spring?’
Another fizzle of glances. Gemma said, ‘The next night, Chris got killed.’
A second of silence, while that spread up and out, into the branches.
‘So,’ Joanne said. ‘See?’
I saw.
‘You said someone was meeting up with Chris, after him and Selena broke up. Like I told you, no way would he meet up with Rebecca O’Mara because he was into her. But if she was buying something for him? She would totally have done it; she would’ve done anything for him. And he would’ve met up to get it. He might even have thrown her the odd charity snog, give her something to dream about.’
Orla’s snuffly laugh.
I said, ‘Did you ever see Rebecca going out on her own at night?’
‘No. So? We stopped watching the corridor like weeks before Chris got killed.’
Chris’s tox screen had come back clean, Conway had said. No drugs in his gear.
‘And then,’ Joanne said. Sliding in closer, her legs brushing up against mine. I couldn’t see her eyes, through the floodlights glittering on their surfaces. ‘Maybe Rebecca thought they were like together or something. And when she found out they weren’t . . .’
Moths whirling, out over the lawn.
I said, carefully, ‘Rebecca’s only a little thing. Chris was a big strong guy. You think she could’ve . . . ?’
Gemma said, ‘She’s a stroppy cow, is what she is, when she feels like it. If he really pissed her off . . .’
‘The papers said head injuries,’ Joanne said. ‘If he was sitting down, then it wouldn’t matter that she was smaller than him.’
Orla said, practically lifting up off the grass with the thrill, ‘She could’ve hit him with a rock.’
‘Ew.’ Joanne, reproving. ‘We don’t actually know it was a rock. The papers never said.’ And looked at me, question marks popping out all over. Gemma and Orla watched too, eager, bubbling with curiosity.
Not faking. None of them knew about the hoe.
More than that: no shake in their voices, no shadow sliding under their faces, when they talked about the moment that had robbed Chris Harper’s life away. They could’ve been talking about cheating on an exam. Till then, one snip of me had wondered if they were making up the Rebecca story to steer me away from one of them, but no. None of these had ever touched murder.