13 Minutes-9780575097407

by Sarah Pinborough

  Becca zoned them out, just as Vicki Springer carefully elbowed her way past into the sacred circle around Tasha. She barely noticed. Even her own mother felt more sorry for Tasha than for either Becca or poor dead Hannah. She scanned the crowd, looking for Aiden, but instead saw Amanda Alderton. Hannah’s mum was at least a stone thinner than when Becca last saw her, and was politely greeting strangers. She looked pale and exhausted. Pain was etched in her every movement, all her bubbly humour gone as if it had been an illusion. Becca felt sick looking at her, but took a deep breath and forced herself forward. She’d liked the Aldertons, she realised. Even when she’d mocked them internally there had been something warm about their company. Too little, too late, Bex, she told herself. As if you liking them makes a difference now. There’ll be no more family lunches. No more sandwiches in their kitchen. That thought made the truth of it all hit home harder than even seeing the coffin had done, and before she’d even reached Hannah’s mum the tears had come, almost from nowhere, hot and wet on her cheeks.

  She sniffed hard, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, not caring how it looked. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ She stared up at the woman, her eyes pleading. She needed to know they were okay with her. She needed Hannah’s mum to hug her, to tell her it was all going to be okay.

  She didn’t do either. They stood facing each other for a moment, Becca crying and Amanda all contained grief. Through the blur, Becca couldn’t read the woman’s expression, but she was aware of others nearby – Mark Pritchard, less cocky than usual, was just alongside them, head down and talking to James Ensor. They both looked up.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated, more quietly this time, barely more than a whisper.

  ‘We don’t blame you, Rebecca,’ Hannah’s mum said. She didn’t touch her, though, and there was little warmth in her voice. Rebecca. It was so formal. ‘We know Hannah’s death wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Becca said. ‘I loved her, you know. She was my best friend.’ She wiped her eyes, clearing her vision.

  ‘Yes, she was.’ Amanda Alderton drew herself up an inch taller. ‘She was a good friend to you. It’s a pity you were so easily distracted.’ She turned her back then, and it was like a slap in the face to Becca. Her mouth fell open. Of course Hannah had talked to her mum about Becca. Hannah talked to her mum about everything.

  ‘I wasn’t . . .’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to . . .’ But Amanda Alderton was no longer listening. The sunlight, barely cutting through the February cold, was suddenly too bright. Becca didn’t want to be there. She didn’t want to be anywhere. She wanted to run back into the church and fling herself on Hannah’s coffin and beg for her forgiveness.

  ‘She doesn’t mean it.’

  Becca jumped slightly and then sank into relief. It was Tasha, free of her new acolytes.

  ‘I imagine by the time the memorial comes around she’ll want you to do a reading or something.’ The cremation, that afternoon, was family only. Becca was doubly relieved she didn’t have to watch that after her exchange with Amanda. Natasha nodded at the crowds that were slowly dispersing, getting back to their own lives. ‘You can spot the police a mile off. There – by Jamie and Aiden.’

  Becca looked up. Aiden was smoking under the trees, Jamie alongside him. Her heart managed to leap and sink simultaneously. She needed to speak to him. To make things better.

  ‘See?’ Tasha said. ‘By the exit.’ Becca dragged her eyes away and clocked the police straight away. Four men by the church gates, wearing suits but not involved, facing out towards the journalists no doubt waiting to get more pictures to fill their morbid pages. Two of the officers pulled their phones out at the same time. Signalled one of the others.

  ‘Something’s going on,’ Becca muttered, frowning.

  ‘Something’s always going on,’ Tasha said. ‘They’re policemen. It’s probably nothing to do with us.’ She linked her arm through Becca’s. ‘Come on, let’s go and talk to Jamie and Aiden.’

  It was what Becca wanted to do . . . but she really didn’t want to do it with Tasha in tow. Her mum had made her leave her phone at home as a mark of respect, whatever that meant, and no amount of sighing and begging could make her change her mind, so she had no idea if he’d texted her or not. If he had, she didn’t want him to think she was being moody with him, and she had no way of knowing if he hadn’t so she didn’t know if she should be moody with him. God, love wasn’t meant to be this hard, was it?

  She inwardly bitched at her mum. It was probably nothing to do with respect, she just didn’t want any photos in the paper of Becca playing with her phone during the funeral of the friend she inadvertently murdered. To be fair, neither did Becca. Especially not after that conversation with Amanda Alderton. But that wasn’t the point.

  ‘Hi, girls,’ Jamie said. ‘How are you coping?’

  ‘Just an awful day,’ Natasha said. ‘It’s still surreal. Isn’t it, Bex?’

  ‘Yeah. Horrible.’

  Aiden looked up at her from under his fringe. Normally she found his long hair pretty hot, but right now it felt like he was using it as a barrier between them. He didn’t touch her, or take her hand. ‘You okay?’

  She nodded. ‘I will be.’

  ‘Becca’s been amazing,’ Tasha gushed. ‘I’d have been lost without her.’

  ‘You look well,’ Jamie said. ‘And I hear your memory’s come back?’

  Becca let their conversation drone out. Her pulse thumped in her ears. ‘Can we talk?’ she said, softly, taking Aiden’s arm and pulling him slightly away from the other two. ‘You know, about last night. I was upset and maybe overreacted and—’

  ‘You always overreact, Bex.’ He sounded tired. Worn down. ‘Why do you think I don’t always tell you everything?’

  ‘What do you mean, you don’t always tell me stuff?’

  ‘See? You’re doing it again. You really want to do this now?’ He was looking at her like she was a child and it stung. Her face burned. Did she want to do this?

  ‘I don’t want to fight or anything,’ she said, hating how needy she sounded. ‘I just wanted to say sorry.’ But I still really want to know who Emma is and how come you’re one of Tasha’s Facebook friends. She bit the thought back.

  ‘You always say sorry,’ Aiden said. ‘And you always mean it at the time. But it never stops all your jealousy and insecurity. It does my head in.’

  ‘I don’t mean it, I—’ Tears came, hot and hard as he cut her off.

  ‘Emma is just a friend of mine. She works in a bar. After I dropped you off that night I went for a drink and then we went and got stoned by the river and fell asleep in my car. She told the police and they let me go.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ Becca said. ‘I wouldn’t have minded.’ But even as she said the words she knew it was a lie. She did mind. She thought that was their place. That was where they went. And who was this girl that he could be such good friends with her and not ever mention her? Did they have history? Emma. Probably cool and older. Not a pathetic teenager like she was.

  ‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ he said, lighting another cigarette. His hands were shaking as he offered her one. She took it. She didn’t care what her mum might say or whether the photographers saw it.

  ‘I didn’t want to do this here,’ he said.

  ‘Do what?’ Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. ‘Don’t you love me any more?’ There it was. The whiny question.

  ‘Nothing’s ever as simple as that.’ He couldn’t look her in the eye. ‘Of course I still care about you.’ He shuffled his feet as Becca’s world stopped still. He was going to do it. He really was. ‘But this has been a shitty couple of weeks. For both of us. I think maybe we need some time on our own. To figure things out. You know.’

  She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. ‘It’s Hannah’s f
uneral,’ was all she could manage to say.

  ‘I didn’t want to do it here.’ He sounded so lame. He was lame. Suddenly she was filled with rage.

  ‘Why the fuck did you even come today?’ she asked. Jamie and Tasha looked over, the sharpness in her voice like a knife through the air. ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought you might . . .’ Suddenly he was the one on the back foot and it felt good to Becca. She cut him off. Whatever he was going to say, it was bullshit.

  ‘You know me. You knew I’d want to talk about it. So if you didn’t want to do it here, why did you come?’

  ‘I didn’t think,’ he muttered.

  ‘Hey, you two—’ Jamie tried to intervene but Becca flashed him a glare that shut him up. This wasn’t his business and he wasn’t her dad and he hadn’t saved her from drowning. He could shut the fuck up.

  ‘You didn’t come here for me. You came for yourself. You wanted to feel better and you know I can’t freak out here at my best friend’s funeral.’ She took a deep, shaky breath and wiped away her tears. ‘Maybe you should just leave.’ She turned and stomped off towards the gates, still clutching her cigarette.

  ‘Becca?’ Tasha called after her. Becca didn’t pause. She couldn’t look back. If she did, Aiden would see how her heart was breaking. She leaned against the wall and inhaled hard, even though the camera lenses in the road glinted at her. She didn’t care. Fuck them. Fuck all of them. She let the smoke burn her lungs as her legs shook and her hands trembled.

  ‘Is there a team on the way? Do you want me to come?’

  She half-listened as one of the policemen talked into his phone, pacing a few feet away. Aiden had really done it. He’d dumped her.

  ‘Do the press know? A couple of their cars just left here.’

  She wasn’t sure what felt more surreal – Hannah dead in a coffin or Aiden not wanting her any more. Maybe Hannah would laugh at that. Maybe she’d think Becca deserved it.

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  No, she wouldn’t. Hannah wasn’t like that. Hannah would get them hot chocolates and cake and listen to Becca as she cried and smoked and wailed about love and she’d say all the right things. Hannah was a good person. She’d been a good person.

  The tears came thick and fast after that.

  Forty-Three

  Extracts from the Brackston Saturday Herald, Saturday 6th February

  The scandal that has erupted from Brackston Community School took a sombre turn for the worse yesterday. Peter Garrick, the school’s 38-year-old English teacher and exams officer, was found dead in his home during the funeral of Hannah Alderton, who was killed during a play rehearsal on the 26th of January. Sources close to the investigation claimed that Mr Garrick had been suspended from the school, although he was not believed to have any involvement in her death. Mr Garrick, a married father of two, is thought to have been alone in the house at the time of his death and police do not think anyone else was involved.

  Although police have not confirmed that Mr Garrick was the member of staff facing charges of sexual activity with a minor while in a position of trust, sources confirm the CPS will not be pursuing that case in light of Mr Garrick’s death.

  Two 16-year-old girls, who for legal reasons cannot be named, remain in custody and have been charged in the matter of Hannah Alderton’s murder.

  Brackston Community School was closed yesterday to allow students and staff to attend the funeral of murdered sixth former Hannah Alderton. Although the sun was shining, the community’s grief was apparent as peers and adults cried and hugged outside the church after the short service. It is believed that Hannah may not have been the intended victim. Although our source will not confirm who the target was, Hannah Alderton attended the same school as Natasha Howland (pictured above left at yesterday’s funeral), who was found near-dead in the river in January.

  Also attending the funeral was Rebecca Crisp (above right, smoking) who, like Natasha Howland, has not returned to school since Hannah Alderton’s death. Both girls have been seen entering and leaving the police station on several occasions but neither is considered a suspect in the case. Both girls were present at the time of Hannah Alderton’s death. It is clear that her friend’s death has affected Rebecca Crisp greatly.

  Although the Head Teacher and governors of the school have issued a statement asking that pupils to be allowed to return to their studies in peace, many parents are concerned by recent events and have called for the police to place a community liaison officer in the school and for the government to launch an inquiry as to how events such as these have been allowed to unfold in such a high-achieving school.

  Forty-Four

  Extracts from Natasha Howland’s statement taken by DI Caitlin Bennett and DS Marc Aplin on Tuesday 26th January. Dr Annabel Harvey present as appropriate adult.

  Time commenced: 20.15.

  It was Thursday after school. Yes, the seven January. The day before I went in the river. So weird how I remember it all now. It’s like a box just opened in my head – a jack-in-the-box – and all the memories jumped out and back into their places. Sorry. I’ll try and stick to it. Yes, I’m okay. Still shaking a bit. That was so awful. Hannah. God, poor Hannah.

  Okay. This is what I remember. I followed them, Thursday after school. Yes, Jenny and Hayley. They’d been so odd with me. More than odd, kind of like they didn’t want me around? Yeah, they’d been like that for a while. Maybe a couple of months? It was getting worse. Little bitchy comments sometimes. I’d been trying really hard to find out if I’d done anything wrong but couldn’t think of anything. I just wanted my friends back rather than this feeling that they were, at best, pretending to like me.

  Anyway, Thursday. They’d been so closed off. Tight. I’d seen them like that before, giggling together. Telling me it was nothing. At lunchtime I asked them if they wanted to go and hang out in Starbucks after school. I had money – Jenny never really has any cash and Hayley’s parents are stricter with pocket money than mine, she kind of has to earn it by doing stuff around the house and looking after her little brother, but my parents just give me money when I ask for it – so I figured they’d come if I was paying. Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? Like I was trying to buy them, but it’s true, I kind of was. Hayley said she had to go to the indoor track and practise and Jenny said she had to stay behind for extra Maths for her GCSE retake.

  I got the feeling they were both lying to me and it really hurt. They’d done it before, too, and this time it made me a bit crazy. I mean, why couldn’t they just be honest with me? So – god, I sound like such a loser – I went to the Maths department and checked out the revision group schedule but there was nothing listed. I even spoke to Mr Russell-Woods – he’s the Head of Maths – and said Jenny had asked me to check, but he said it wasn’t on that night.

  So anyway, I pretended I’d left then followed them. I knew they were out at the back of the PE block where Hayley smokes. They’d hidden from me there before. They didn’t leave school till after five and now I know why – that’s when Mr Garrick left. I had a hoodie on and kept it up but they never looked behind them. They were too busy talking, arms linked, and laughing. It really hurt my feelings. I didn’t even want to fight with them, just to see what they were doing that was so interesting they had to lie to me about it.

  They walked to the big car park at the back of Asda. You know the one? So you know that bit at the back is never full. And it’s dark there. I don’t understand why they made it that big – like everyone in Brackston is going to shop there at exactly the same time? But anyway, that’s where they went. By now I thought maybe I’d got it all wrong and they were just going to meet Hayley’s dad or something for a ride home . . . but that didn’t really make any sense, either. They could have walked or got the bus and been home quicker. I had kind of stopped caring about why they’d shut me out and just wanted to know what made them go there, of all pla
ces.

  I stayed back, by the wall where all those huge recycling bins are, pressing myself slightly behind the green one. It was pitch-dark by then and getting cold. I could hear them laughing and talking still, but it was quieter.

  Then a car pulled in. A dark four-by-four. When the door opened and Jenny got in, I caught a glimpse of a man inside, but I couldn’t make out who he was. Hayley waved at him. He said something to her that I couldn’t catch and she said she was fine, the cold didn’t bother her.

  Jenny was in the car on her own with him for maybe half an hour? Forty-five minutes? I was freezing by then. Hayley went to the café and bought a coffee, but she was still standing around for another twenty minutes or so when she got back. She had her Uggs on and a proper thick coat. She was prepared. I was so cold, but I couldn’t move without risking being seen. The car windows were steaming up even though the engine wasn’t on. I was a bit shocked but not surprised. I mean, we all know Jenny’s no virgin and she’d just got into a man’s parked car. They weren’t going to be playing chess in there, were they?

  So, just when I thought I couldn’t take much more of the cold, the car engine started up again and pulled over towards Hayley. The window came down and Jenny, in the front seat, said something – must have been about dropping them nearer home or whatever, and I caught a glimpse of the man behind the wheel. It was Mr Garrick. I was pretty sure of it.

  I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I mean, Mr Garrick? He seemed so sweet. Awkward, almost. Not like hot or anything? How could he be fucking Jenny? All I could think was that she was trying to screw her way to getting the Maths exam paper early or something. I was totally spinning out. By the time I arrived home I wasn’t sure if I’d seen him at all. Maybe it was some other man who just looked a bit like him. I only caught a glimpse. I could be totally wrong. I didn’t know what to think.