13 Minutes-9780575097407

by Sarah Pinborough

  Our broken landscape hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  He turned around and smiled at Hannah. ‘That would be great.’

  ‘But I think—’

  ‘Enough, Hayley! Let’s just do it.’

  Cowed by Mr Jones, Hayley stared at me for a long moment and then went back to the stage. Mr Jones turned to check Becca was at the lighting panel and she gave him a thumbs-up.

  And so they began, the scene unfolding, but this time getting further into it. I knew the line was coming: I saved her life today. The moment when Abigail/Me/Hannah would steal the scene from Jenny as the light rose, but still I found I was caught up in the drama. They were that good.

  The crescendo built, Proctor moving in on Mary Warren in frustration at her tales from the court, threatening to beat her, and then—

  ‘I saved her life today!’ Jenny, cowering, pointed at Hayley.

  The light shifted. A figure emerged. Hannah doing her best to look manipulative. Triumphant.

  And then it all changed. I felt underwater again. I stared. We all stared. Hayley said her next line and then everything stopped. Long seconds of wrong.

  Becca had been right. It looked amazing. For a second. Maybe two. Then the light changed again. Into a momentary falling star. A hollow thud. An empty sound as it landed, heavy, on Hannah’s head. Not a big enough sound to warrant the effect. She let out a surprised oh before she crumpled. An instant of confusion, not even enough time to raise her hand to her skull, to feel the pain, before her face was empty and her legs gave way.

  She was gone. I could tell. I saw the switching-off in her eyes. Is that all it is? Is that all it takes? I was stuck in my chair. I think my mouth was half-open.

  No one was moving apart from Mr Jones. He was on his knees, his hands over Hannah, unsure what to do. I think he was shouting, but all I could hear was the river in my ears. Jenny had her hand over her mouth. Becca rushed out of the booth and then stopped near Mr Jones. She stared. I knew why she was staring. Why we were all staring. It wasn’t the small pool of blood under Hannah’s head. It was her eyes. They were open. And they were empty.

  Hannah has left the building, I wanted to say, in that way my mum does sometimes, and then I wanted to giggle so badly, to laugh out loud, and I didn’t know why and I’m not even sure I should write it down, but it’s how I felt. I was on the verge when the doors swung open.

  They strode in without seeing her, at first. The Head Teacher, DI Bennett and another man and woman who must have been police, too. They walked straight past me. Bennett held a piece of paper in her hand. It had been crumpled and then smoothed back out. A receipt. It was level with my eyes when they come to a halt. I could read The One Cell Stop at the top.

  Suddenly there was movement everywhere but I was in a bubble. It was all distilling. Everything. I gasped. My mouth moved but I couldn’t get the words out. I found myself standing. I gulped like a fish torn from water until eventually they burst out of me. I was loud even in there, amidst the crying and the shouting and the man and woman taking Hayley’s and Jenny’s arms. My own words were sharp in my ears, making my eardrums ache.

  ‘I remember,’ I said, too loud. ‘I remember!’

  Part Three

  Thirty-Eight

  Excerpt of consultation between Dr Annabel Harvey and patient Rebecca Crisp, Friday 29/01, 09.30

  REBECCA: The doctor gave me sleeping pills but I don’t want to take them.

  DR HARVEY: Why not?

  REBECCA: Just don’t want to.

  DR HARVEY: Are you afraid to sleep?

  REBECCA: No.

  DR HARVEY: Then you should take them. You look tired.

  REBECCA: (Pause)

  I was a bitch to her. Right before. For a few days before. But in rehearsal I was mean. I really snapped at her, you know. I called her needy. I hurt her feelings. I know I did.

  DR HARVEY: You didn’t know what was going to happen.

  REBECCA: Doesn’t make it any better. It’s still in my head. It still happened. I’m still the one who was in the control booth. I moved the slider to tilt the light.

  (Pause)

  I should have moved it myself. Technically, I killed her. That sound when it hit her head—

  (Breath hitching)

  DR HARVEY: You didn’t sabotage the light so it would fall. You didn’t kill her. You’re a victim here, too. You have to reframe the way you think about Hannah’s death.

  REBECCA: (Long pause)

  (Quiet)

  When Tasha went in the river, I remember thinking that stuff like that didn’t happen to girls like her. They happened to girls like me. But I was wrong. I think they do sometimes happen to girls like Tasha, the bright, brilliant ones. Or they happen to girls like Hannah. The nobodies. The ones desperate to be liked.

  DR HARVEY: Is that how you saw Hannah? A nobody?

  REBECCA: It’s how everyone saw Hannah. That light was meant to fall on Tasha but it killed Hannah instead. I think that’s what I don’t get the most. So Hayley and Jenny wanted Tasha to stay quiet. To not remember. They wanted her gone. Dead. Whatever. But when Hannah said she’d stand in Tasha’s place, why did they let her? I mean, that’s, like, psycho behaviour, to just let someone else be hurt or die instead. Did they really think that little of her? Why not come up with some excuse to move her?

  DR HARVEY: Perhaps they couldn’t think of one.

  (Pause)

  REBECCA: Hayley tried, I think, to make us wait for Natasha, but not hard enough. They didn’t stop it. They let her die. They let me kill her.

  DR HARVEY: You didn’t kill her.

  REBECCA: I controlled the light. And I’d been a bitch to her. Such a bitch.

  DR HARVEY: Why was that? Had she upset you?

  REBECCA: (Half-laugh. Weepy)

  No. Hannah doesn’t – didn’t – really do upsetting people. She was just . . . Hannah. And I was distracted. I had Tasha again.

  (Pause)

  I was embarrassed by Hannah. I didn’t want Tasha to judge me by her. She was a nobody. You must remember this kind of shit from when you were at school.

  DR HARVEY: Yes, just about.

  REBECCA: Which kind of girl were you?

  DR HARVEY: I suppose I was something like you. In the middle somewhere.

  REBECCA: You’re Natasha’s doctor, too, aren’t you?

  DR HARVEY: Yes, I am.

  REBECCA: Will you be Hayley and Jenny’s doctor as well?

  (Pause)

  I haven’t spoken to Tasha yet.

  DR HARVEY: Don’t you want to talk to her?

  REBECCA: I don’t want to talk to anyone – including you. And the police keep coming and asking questions I can’t answer. I told Bennett everything I knew in the car park. Must be harder for Tasha. Remembering everything suddenly like that on top of what happened to Hannah. And getting her head around Hayley and Jenny.

  DR HARVEY: Are you getting your head around it?

  REBECCA: I don’t know. We suspected them of something but it felt like a game to me. I don’t think I really believed it. Not like this. Like now. It’s too much.

  (Pause)

  I used to be friends with Hayley. I liked her. Back then, anyway.

  DR HARVEY: Murderers have friends. And families. They can be very likeable. What Hayley did or didn’t do doesn’t make her evil. Evil doesn’t exist.

  REBECCA: I don’t think Hannah’s mum would agree.

  (Pause)

  Me and Tasha, we wound them up. We pretended she was starting to remember stuff. You know, from that night and the day before. If we hadn’t done that then Hannah would probably still be alive. It will come out in the papers eventually. Or at court. Hannah’s mum will know we were meddling and she’ll blame me, too.

  DR HARVEY: You’re not guilty of anything. Hannah’s mothe
r is grieving – as are you. You need to stop blaming yourself.

  REBECCA: It must be so weird for Tasha. She must feel so lucky in some ways and like shit in others. If it wasn’t Hannah it would have been her. Must be driving her crazy.

  (Pause)

  Will you sign me off for when school opens again next week? I don’t want to go back.

  DR HARVEY: You don’t want to go back next week, or you don’t want to go back ever?

  REBECCA: What do you think?

  (Pause)

  I wish all the newspaper people would go away. I feel like I can’t breathe for them. It’s going to be hard enough with everyone looking at me, anyway. The girl who pushed the button. The girl who didn’t check her own rig. I don’t need them saying it, too. Maybe it will be better after Hannah’s funeral. Maybe everything will go back to normal then.

  (Pause)

  Except nothing’s ever going to be normal again, is it?

  Thirty-Nine

  Extract from The Times, Monday 1st February:

  Two 16-year-old girls, who cannot be named for legal reasons, have been remanded in police custody and charged with one count of murder and one count of intent to cause grievous bodily harm. Brackston Community School reopens today after the death of sixth form student Hannah Alderton last Tuesday and the Head Teacher has asked that the press respect the privacy of students and staff at this difficult time. A teacher from the school has also been arrested and charged with sexual activity with a minor while holding a position of trust.

  Brackston Community School received an Outstanding grade in its recent Ofsted evaluation but local parents have now expressed concerns about the levels of bullying in the school. There is a divide between those from the wealthier areas of this quiet suburban town and those who come from the Gleberow Estate, which has a high level of unemployment and long-term benefits claimants. It is believed that one of the two girls charged with the murder of Hannah Alderton lived with her mother on the Estate.

  Extract from the Brackston Herald, Monday 1st February:

  After the dramatic and tragic events at Brackston Community School last week, police have confirmed that they no longer believe the death of Maypoole teenager Nicola Monroe to be linked with the near-death of Natasha Howland last month. Charges of murder and attempted grievous bodily harm are being brought against two local teenage girls. The girls, who can’t be named for legal reasons, are both 16 years old and were present when Hannah Alderton died last Tuesday. A teacher from Brackston Community School has also been arrested on charges of sexual activity with a minor while holding a position of trust. Police have yet to confirm whether this is a separate incident, or in some way linked to events at the school last week.

  Extract from The Sun, Monday 1st February:

  Sex, drugs and murder in a middle-class school.

  Is Brackston becoming a byword for Broken Britain?

  . . . although the two girls cannot be named, neighbours and parents have described them as best friends with one of their victims. The mother of a sixth form pupil told us, ‘Those three were always together. It’s such a shock because they seemed the perfect friends. My daughter heard rumours that they took drugs quite regularly and liked to party. One of the girls comes from the Gleberow Estate. It’s a bit rough up there. Not like the area where Natasha Howland lives. Maybe there was jealousy? But it’s frightening that this can happen in a school like Brackston. As for the teacher – well, there’s so many cases like that in the paper now, aren’t there? How are they getting to teach in schools? Where are the checks on them?’

  Although the member of staff arrested cannot be named, sources claim that a male member of the English department has been suspended and will not be returning to work when the school reopens today.

  Forty

  Extract from DI Bennett’s notes (unofficial record), Tuesday 2ND February, used in a report to the Commissioner

  Hayley Gallagher remains silent. Pale. Shaken. Can’t make that one out. Even her mother can’t get her to talk.

  Jenny Coles also quiet now after her initial hysteria but she remains withdrawn. Closed in. She needs a mental health evaluation.

  Once presented with the list of evidence against her:

  – CCTV footage of Jenny in the phone shop

  – The receipt for the two pay-as-you-go phones in her locker

  – The discovery of the phones hidden in the girls’ bedrooms

  – The nature of the texts on those phones, which stop on the night of the incident with Natasha

  and when informed that English teacher Peter Garrick had confessed to several instances of sexual activity with Jenny (and confirmed the location of their meeting on the night Natasha Howland now remembers seeing them), her hysteria quietened. All she’s said since is, ‘Hayley said she’d think of something.’

  Although not specific, I believe this is an implication of Hayley’s guilt in tampering with the stage light at the school, and an attempt by Jenny to distance herself from that. Hayley has not responded to the accusation. She still refuses to speak.

  Between the phones, the fact that Hayley sabotaged the theatre light thinking that Natasha would be beneath it, the evidence found in the clearing (the cigarette butts, Dalmane sleeping pill capsule cases – which match the pills Jenny’s mum uses – the piece of rope) and Garrick’s confession of a secret sexual relationship with Jenny in which Hayley was complicit, along with Natasha’s statement and her diary entries in the notebook Dr Harvey gave her – now in evidence – we have enough to press charges even without confessions. Hayley can be charged with murder and attempted grievous bodily harm and Jenny with accessory to murder and attempted grievous bodily harm. We also have their primary mobile phones and are in the process of retrieving deleted texts from them.

  There’s no evidence to suggest Peter Garrick knew anything about the attack on Natasha Howland or was in any way involved beyond his relationship with Jenny, the discovery of which was a catalyst for the attack on Natasha. He is clearly shocked that the girls went so far and is distraught. He claims he was in love with Jenny and intended to leave his wife. He had already handed in his resignation and was leaving the school at the end of the summer term, once he had fulfilled his obligations to his exam students and his role as exam officer. The CPS will pursue the charges against him, but had he known of Jenny and Hayley’s intention to harm Natasha, I believe he would have stopped them or called the police regardless of the outcome for himself.

  He has been released on bail and is at his home. His wife and two children, who knew nothing of his affair, are now staying with his mother-in-law in Manchester.

  Hannah Alderton’s body has been released to her family and her funeral arranged for Friday. They have asked the police not to attend, other than to keep the press as far back as possible.

  Neither Rebecca Crisp nor Natasha Howland have returned to school yet. Both plan to return after the funeral. Rebecca is understandably traumatised after the death of Hannah Alderton and has been going to counselling with Dr Harvey. Natasha Howland is suffering from survivor’s guilt, knowing she should have been beneath the stage light. Dr Harvey is confident, however, that neither girl will suffer any lasting problems and that the process of the trials and giving evidence – which will no doubt be harrowing – will probably give them closure.

  Natasha was very reluctant to hand over the notebook Dr Harvey gave her – which is not surprising given the detailed content including evidence of drug-taking and her private thoughts on sex, friends and family. However, her written account does fully support Rebecca Crisp’s statement.

  Forty-One

  It was the night before the funeral and Becca’s nerves were tangled. She was wired even though she hadn’t touched so much as a puff of a joint since Hannah’s death. Some days she wasn’t sure she ever would again, and on others she just wanted to get shit-fac
ed. She’d waited till it was dark before leaving and didn’t call ahead. She hadn’t called anyone in days. Someone had leaked her mobile number to the press and now her iPhone locked out all calls apart from her parents’ or Aiden’s. Not that she needed her mum’s number to come through to know it was her calling. Unless she was with the police or that head-doctor woman, she’d barely been out of her mum’s sight.

  Aiden had come over to the house, but even he didn’t know quite how to handle the situation. It wasn’t just that Hannah was dead, which was a head-fuck on its own, but that Becca had controlled the light. How were they supposed to talk about that? She’d wanted to, but he was awkward and unresponsive, even though he hugged her and told her it would all be okay. He was stoned, which hadn’t helped. She needed him – how could he not see that? But the easy way they’d had with each other appeared to have vanished.

  But she had to talk to someone. So here she was.

  ‘She’s in her room,’ Alison Howland said, squeezing Becca’s arm. ‘Go on up. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you. Tomorrow will be hard for both of you.’ She wasn’t slurring but her words ran together a little too quickly and Becca saw the wine bottle sitting on the kitchen island. It was open and two-thirds empty. Becca couldn’t blame her. Tasha had very nearly died. Twice. She’d be surprised if the Howlands ever let their daughter out of the house again. ‘Do you want anything to drink? Something to eat?’

  Becca shook her head and escaped the warmth of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. She was tired of the claustrophobic care of adults. They wanted to make everything better. They couldn’t.

  Tasha’s door wasn’t locked and she opened it quietly, suddenly nervous. It was stupid because there was nothing to be nervous about, but without her phone and having stayed away from all social media it was like coming out of a bubble. She was used to knowing how people were feeling, what they were doing, with the click of a button. Not any more.