by James Dawson
‘I suppose I should clear up the glass,’ Katie said eventually, looking exhausted.
‘I’ll do it,’ Erin offered and went to fetch the dustpan and brush.
Ryan looked at each of them in turn. The Jock. The Geek. The Good Girl. The Bad Girl. If Roxanne were to be believed, not only was one of them a killer, but now there was proof.
SCENE 14 – ALISHA
As Erin swept up the broken glass, a suffocating silence filled the room. It was unbearable – exactly like the four weeks during which Janey had been lost. Back then, it had felt like no one was allowed to speak, because anything, even the faintest whiff of mirth, might sound disrespectful to their missing friend.
Alisha couldn’t stand it. She wanted to scream. She wanted to grab Katie by the shoulders, shake her and say, ‘TOLD YOU SO’ – she’d known right from the start that Roxanne was psychotic and no one had listened.
Well, Roxanne Dent could go to hell.
It was Ryan who broke the silence. ‘So. One of us killed Janey. Bit of a shocker.’
Ben swore loudly. ‘None of us killed Janey! She’s making it up!’
Alisha flinched. She hated to see him so mad. It wasn’t like Ben at all. ‘How do you know? Were you there?’ she asked.
‘No!’ he said at once. ‘But . . . but . . .’
‘She said she has proof.’ Katie’s face was paler than ever – pure chalk-white like the cliffs back home. ‘One of us . . .’
‘No way!’ Greg barked. ‘As if.’
‘But what if it’s true?’ Ryan paced the lounge, hands on hips. ‘Oh, come on – don’t act like it hasn’t crossed your minds before. The Janey situation was fishy long before she washed up in the marina.’
‘Ryan!’ Katie snapped. ‘Don’t. It’s not funny.’
Greg now rose from the sofa, trying to wrest control from Ryan. ‘Then who was it? We might as well get everything out in the open.’
Everyone started talking at once and Alisha covered her ears with her hands. She needed a drink the size of Belgium; she couldn’t handle this.
‘Well, of course you’re all going to deny it,’ Ryan said vehemently.
‘Why would any of us want to kill Janey?’ Katie protested.
It went on and on.
Alisha closed her eyes and imagined Roxanne right now, sitting on the beach sipping wine, laughing at the trail of road-kill she’d left in her wake. It didn’t seem fair.
Her brother cursed loudly and threw his hands in the air. ‘She’s not getting a penny outta me. I’m not paying for something I didn’t do.’ With that he stormed out of the lounge, Erin hot on his heels.
‘Oh, I guess that’s the end of the discussion then.’ Ryan helped himself to another beer.
‘It is,’ Ben agreed. ‘No one’s going to give Roxanne the money. It’d be basically admitting they were guilty.’
Alisha peeked out from behind her curls. ‘Maybe . . . maybe in the morning we can talk her out of it.’
Ryan and Ben seemed to consider that.
‘Maybe,’ Ben muttered.
Katie was sitting hunched on the floor tiles, her back against the wall. ‘This is all too much to take in. It was just meant to be a holiday, you know? It’s turning into a total nightmare.’ She pushed herself up. ‘I’m going to bed.’ Head hanging, Katie shuffled out of the lounge.
‘Will you make sure she’s OK?’ Ben asked Alisha, obviously worried about his ex or girlfriend or whatever she was these days.
‘Sure.’ Alisha followed Katie. That was her role – the supportive best friend – and she knew how to do her job well.
‘This is unbelievable.’ Alisha closed the door behind herself. Katie was already stretched out on the bed, her arm over her face. ‘I mean, this is seriously like something off TV, right?’ She crawled onto the foot of the bed and sat alongside her friend. ‘Katie, are you OK?’
‘No, Lish, I’m so far away from OK, it’s not even in sight. Did that actually just happen?’
Katie looked in desperate need of cheering up. Alisha said, ‘I think so, but we could all be hallucinating. I mean, Greg’s fish was pretty rank.’
Katie sat up, now panda-eyed from smudged make-up. ‘Go ahead. Say it.’
‘Say what?’
‘Told you so – about Roxanne.’
‘The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,’ Alisha lied. There was a knock at the door. ‘Who is it?’ Alisha called.
Ryan slipped in through the door. ‘Don’t think for a second that you two are leaving me out of the gossip. What’s going on?’
Katie reached out to him. ‘Can I have a Ryan-hug?’
‘You may.’ He obliged.
Alisha smiled. Ryan-hugs were the best: strong and muscular but without even a whiff of sexual chemistry.
‘Better?’ he asked.
‘A million times better,’ Katie said as Ryan joined them on the bed. ‘Where’s Ben?’
‘He’s doing the dishes. I don’t think he wants to talk about it.’
‘Well,’ said Alisha, ‘no prizes for guessing what we’re talking about.’
‘The crisis in Gaza? The political situation leading to the First World War?’
‘Almost . . .’ A half-smile crept back to Katie’s face.
‘Roxanne!’ Alisha exclaimed. ‘And the fact that she’s totally effing lost the plot.’
They said nothing for a moment. Alisha looked between her two friends, wondering whether Roxanne had really been telling the truth. But the thought of either of her two closest friends pushing Janey Bradshaw off a cliff was plain stupid.
‘What do you think she knows?’ Ryan whispered.
Alisha sighed. ‘Oh, come on. You don’t buy what she said, do you?’
‘I don’t know.’ Katie hugged her legs to her chest.
‘I know there are things that . . . look bad,’ Ryan said. ‘Perhaps Janey didn’t jump . . .’
Alisha tutted. ‘For God’s sake! No one thinks that.’
‘Don’t they?’ Katie fiddled with a lock of hair, her fingers nervous. ‘There were rumours, Alisha.’
‘That was all just gossip. Katie, she jumped off a cliff! How many times are we going to have the same conversation? It was suicide. The police said so; the coroner said so; her parents said so.’
Katie slipped out of her dress and pulled her dad’s old shirt over her head as pyjamas. ‘But Roxanne has a point. I mean, I know I wasn’t there, but what about Ben?’
Ryan laughed. ‘Ben? Ben Murdoch? Are you crazy? He wouldn’t hurt a fly. In fact, if he saw two flies fighting, he’d break it up.’
‘Well, I know it wasn’t me, so that only leaves Greg,’ Alisha said. ‘And why would he kill Janey? I’m not sure he really knew she existed. You know what Greg’s like – if it’s not playing football or having sex with him, he’s not interested!’ The others chuckled agreement. Alisha shifted position on the bed, unable to get comfortable. She was tired, sticky, hot and bothered. The air vents were carrying voices all around the house and Erin’s high-pitched interrogation of Greg was particularly audible.
‘Roxanne’s right about one thing, though,’ Katie said. ‘I mean, you knew Janey, do you really think she’d have killed herself?’
‘I don’t.’ Ryan inspected a nail.
Alisha chewed her lip before shaking her curls. ‘Not on a normal day, no. But she was so freaking mad, Katie. You didn’t see her at the ball.’ Alisha vividly remembered that night and she’d never seen Janey, actually, scratch that, she’d never seen anyone, so angry.
‘What happened that night?’ Katie asked.
‘You know what happened,’ Alisha told her. Although Katie had been too ill to go to the prom, Alisha had given her the highlights many times before she’d left for Norwich.
‘No,’ Katie said indignantly. ‘I’ve heard about fifty different remixes, half of which were from people who weren’t even there. I need the definitive version.’
Alisha snuggled in alongside Ryan. ‘I don’t
know what I can say that hasn’t already been said.’
‘From the top, I want to know everything. And Ryan, I don’t need the TV-movie version, just the facts. The last time I saw Janey was before I got sick. We both bought shoes. I remember, because I started feeling crappy while we were trying them on.’
Alisha took a deep breath before beginning. ‘OK, from the top. It was the day of the prom. You were already ill. I met Janey in town; we got our hair done together . . .’
FLASHBACK – LAST YEAR (ALISHA)
It was almost seven o’ clock when Alisha stumbled over her front lawn, narrowly avoiding falling into the water feature. Time had slipped away somehow. Alisha had lost about two hours – like one of those alien-abductee people. She thought it was probably best to creep in through the back door; there was a slim possibility that if she could get to her room, her parents might think she’d been there the whole time. Of course, that optimism was the drink talking. She was dead meat.
She didn’t know where the time had gone. All afternoon she’d been in the salon with Janey. It was ironic – Janey had spent hours getting her hair curled, and Alisha had spent the afternoon getting hers straightened. It had all been going swimmingly until she’d got a text from Rich and Cleo, some guys from her art class, suggesting she come and meet them for a few warm-up drinks in the park. It was so sunny, she hadn’t been able to say no.
And that was where she’d lost two hours. And now the floor felt like it had turned to treacle, or perhaps it was her legs. She knew she had to pull herself together and fast. It was almost time for the ball. You can’t arrive at the ball wasted. What would Prince Charming make of that? Alisha stifled a hysterical giggle at the thought. She had to be sensible now or she’d be in BIG TROUBLE.
Alisha slipped through the back door, closing it as gently as she could. She cringed as it gave a mean-spirited creak. Thankfully, the washing machine was on, disguising some of her noise. There must be an equation for it – Ben would be able to work it out – like the more you try to be quiet when you’re drunk, the noisier you are.
Some raucous game show was on in the lounge, indicating that at least one of her parents was home. It was Thursday night – was that one of Mum’s Pilates nights? Alisha couldn’t remember. Either way, she was down to her last warning about coming home drunk. But, the way she saw it, she was only going to be young once so she might as well make the most of it.
She made it past the door to the living room and started up the stairs. Years of coming in past curfew had taught her which stairs groaned when you stepped on them – the fourth and seventh – and she skipped these steps.
The staircase was lined with pictures of Greg: Greg and Dad playing football, Greg at the academy, Greg on the youth team, Greg in his Brighton kit. Alisha often thought that her mum and dad had somehow engineered having twins just in case Greg needed a kidney.
She managed to get all the way to the top step before tripping over her own feet. Balls. She froze. Nobody came rushing out to tell her off, so she darted for the cover of her room. She flicked the lights on and looked at her reflection in the mirror on her dressing table. All that time in the salon chair, and her hair was already curling in at the ends. She looked rough before the night had even started. Below the mirror was the photo that she couldn’t bring herself to put away. You’re supposed to burn photos of your ex ceremonially – watch the corners singe and curl before you let them drop into a convenient metal bin. She wasn’t strong enough, though. Alisha sat on the edge of the bed and picked it up, repeating her strange new ritual.
She must be a masochist. Staring at a constant reminder of something she couldn’t have. The picture showed her and Callum on the music trip to Berlin last September. His hair had been longer than ever back then, falling over his eyes like a sheepdog’s. Both of them wore matching, beaming smiles. His arm was thrown casually around her shoulders while she rested her head against him. They looked so happy. He looked so happy. So how could he leave her for that bargain-bin Barbie?
Alisha didn’t notice the shadow fall over the foot of her bed. ‘What are you doing?’
She gasped, almost dropping the photo. ‘God, Greg, can’t you knock?’
‘I said what are you doing? The limo’s gonna be here in twenty minutes.’
‘Well, then, piss off and let me get ready.’
Greg looked immaculate in his tux with the single diamante stud in his ear. She looked like something that a cat had coughed up. Good twin and bad twin.
‘Are you drunk?’ Greg demanded.
‘Noooo!’ she exclaimed in such a ludicrous manner, she could only be drunk.
‘You’re a mess.’
‘Thanks for that.’
He caught sight of the photograph in her hands. ‘Christ, you’re a loser.’
From nowhere, a sob burst out of her mouth. It must have been waiting for the right moment to escape, and now it was free.
Greg huffed. ‘Oh, don’t start booing, woman.’
‘I don’t wanna go, Greg. They’ll be there.’
‘Of course they will. It’s their leavers’ ball too.’
Now the tears were out, they came readily, pouring down Alisha’s cheeks. ‘It’s not fair.’
Her brother had run out of sympathy weeks back. He grabbed her wrists and yanked her off the bed.
‘Ow!’ she cried. He didn’t let go. He dragged her out of her room and towards the bathroom. ‘Let go, Greg. You’re hurting me!’
‘Good!’ he tossed her into the bathroom, where she almost tumbled into the bath. This was the real Greg Cole – the one only she saw. ‘You need to a get a grip so bad, Lish.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Oh, grow up. Callum didn’t dump you for Roxanne. He dumped you because you’re a frigging mental case. You’re a pissed-up clown, Alisha. No one wants to shag a clown.’
She scrabbled around in her mind for any sort of a comeback, but all she could do was cry. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t. It was all Roxanne. If she hadn’t arrived . . .
‘Get your arse in the shower. If you’re not ready, we’re going without you.’
She hurled a bottle of shampoo at his head, but it only succeeded in splattering against the door as he slammed it behind him.
Alisha ran late, but Greg did wait. Teetering on skyscraper heels, Alisha trotted to the midnight-blue limo that waited at the end of their drive. She’d just about managed to rescue herself. She wore a structured, short bronze dress that made her skin almost glow. She’d thrown on as much make-up as she could and she’d hastily re-ironed her hair. She’d pass. If Callum and Roxanne were there, she could at least show her face.
Alisha had never been in a limo before, but it turned out they were pretty tacky. The seats were arranged in a doughnut shape along the sides of the stretched section and were covered with pink Playboy Bunny cushions. A blue striplight flashed around the ceiling of the car as if it were a squat, lowbrow nightclub on wheels. It was only missing a mirror ball.
Not hugely mobile in the dress, she sort of slotted herself into the back of the car. All the others were already there – except one. ‘Where’s Katie?’
‘She’s ill!’ Janey pulled a sad face. ‘I got a text saying she’s been feeling worse and worse all day. Like proper flu or something.’
‘She going to miss the ball?’
‘Yep. She must be really sick, bless her.’ Janey looked regal in her custom-made red gown. Alisha had seen it on a hanger, but that hadn’t done it justice. The material flowed around Janey’s body in crimson waves. It put Alisha’s own high-street dress to shame.
‘Ah, well,’ Ryan said, handing Alisha a glass of fizzy wine. ‘All the more for us. A toast to poorly Katie!’
They toasted. Greg threw her a sideways glance as she gulped back the wine. He wouldn’t say anything in front of the others, though; that wasn’t his style at all.
Ben grinned at her. ‘Great dress, Lish. You look beautiful.’
A butterfly bomb
exploded in her stomach. ‘Aw, thanks, mate.’ In a parallel universe she’d marry Ben Murdoch. She remembered the first time she’d met him at Ryan’s bouncy-castle party, aged eight. If she’d had any sense she’d have put a ring on it then and there. But all those years he’d been her brother’s best friend and Greg would have killed her if she’d made a move on Ben. Of course, when things are forbidden, it just makes them ten times sexier.
Fate had had other plans for them, anyway. Ben had got together with, first, Katie and then Janey (which, to be perfectly honest, Alisha had never really ‘got’ – they were such a mismatch), while she’d fallen for Callum. Look how far that had got her.
Alisha noticed a plastic bag by Ben’s feet. ‘What’s in there?’
Ben and Greg shared a sly grin.
‘What?’ she repeated.
‘We’re gonna make a couple of stops before we get to school,’ Greg told her.
‘What are you up to?’ Janey smiled, holding Ben’s hand.
Greg pulled a box of eggs out of the bag for all to see. ‘As it’s our last day at Longview, well, except for results day, I thought it was time to settle some old scores.’
‘It’s prank week. It’s traditional,’ Ryan reminded her.
Janey snapped her hand out of Ben’s. ‘Oh, what are you doing? Why would we want to get into trouble now?’
‘Relax! What are they gonna do? Expel us? We’ve graduated!’
‘Benjamin!’ She meant business. ‘No!’
Greg laughed. ‘Yeah, Benjamin, do as you’re told.’
‘We’re on Ravel Drive,’ Ryan announced.
‘Driver,’ Ben tapped the black glass partition behind him, ‘can you slow down as we pass number twenty-four?’
The partition slid down. The driver was the brother of a guy on Greg’s team. ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘I don’t know anything about this, yeah?’
‘Dude, that’s fine,’ Ben replied. He grinned and slipped the driver a twenty.
‘Whose house is it?’ Alisha asked, excited now.