13 Minutes (34 page)

‘Sure,’ Caitlin Bennett said, and smiled at him. ‘Why not?’

He grinned. ‘Great. I could do this weekend?’

She was about to answer when the arguing from inside his house distracted them both.

‘You got visitors?’ she said quietly. Her demeanour had changed, a tension in her stance that made her suddenly a policewoman again.

‘Aiden’s staying for a while, but that’s it.’

‘Girl trouble?’

‘Sounds like it.’

They were nearly at the front door when it opened and Aiden almost shoved Becca out through it. She was sobbing, and under the security light Jamie could see that her face was blotchy.

‘You are all over her on Facebook!’ she shouted. ‘Liking everything. You added her even before we’d broken up! I knew you still liked her! I
knew
it!’

‘She added me,’ Aiden sounded weary. ‘But you’re not listening. I didn’t
still
like her. But at least she’s not mental. She gives me some space.’

‘You guys okay?’ Jamie said. It was a stupid question. Okay was something they clearly weren’t. Aiden had told him they’d split up and that Natasha had been messaging him, but apparently Becca was still really hurt.

‘I’m going,’ Becca said. She saw Caitlin and in her surprise almost said something, then stopped herself. Their arrival had taken the wind out of her anger, though, and she turned to leave, nearly tripping over Biscuit, who was hovering by her ankles, unhappy at her upset. She crouched and fussed him for a second, hiding her face, before storming past them all. Biscuit whined, watching her go.
Yeah
, Jamie wanted to say,
I wish we could make it better with a face-lick and a waggy tail. But life’s not quite like that.

He was glad he wasn’t a teenager. He might be out of practice at the dating thing, but at least both he and Caitlin were old enough and cynical enough to know that sometimes things work and sometimes shit gets in the way. There were no promises of love forever after, not really.

‘Sorry,’ Aiden mumbled as Caitlin said goodnight and left them to it. She’d only drunk one glass of wine and her car was still here. What had started as a routine follow-up visit had turned into a great evening, and part of him had hoped maybe she’d come in for coffee and they wouldn’t have to say goodbye quite yet, but Becca’s histrionics had put paid to that. Still, she’d said yes to another date, so it wasn’t all bad.

‘What happened?’

‘Just Becca being Becca.’

‘She still getting all that hassle on the Internet?’ Jamie felt a bit sorry for her – she’d had a rough ride and now somehow she’d become almost as vilified as the two girls who were guilty, and that was crazy.

‘A bit. She’s not on there much, though. I don’t know why she went on tonight. She’s just going to make herself feel worse by looking at it.’ He lit the butt of a joint and inhaled.

‘And what about you and Natasha?’ He felt like a parent more than a friend, carefully navigating the minefield of teenagers’ lives to see what was going on. ‘Is that turning into a thing?’

Aiden shrugged. ‘She’s hot and everything, but I don’t know. It’s not a thing. But she’s different. Confident. And she totally came after me; I didn’t chase her, whatever Becca thinks.’ He paused, then the shadows clouding his face cleared and he looked at Jamie through the smoke. ‘What about you and the detective, then? Where have you two been till this time of night?’

Jamie laughed at the sudden role reversal. ‘It was just a friendly dinner.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Aiden said. He looked like he was about to say more when his phone buzzed.

‘Becca?’ Jamie asked. Aiden shook his head.

‘Tasha.’

‘I’ll leave you to it, Casanova,’ Jamie said and headed with Biscuit to the sitting room. He should probably send Caitlin a text himself. Just a
Thanks for a great night
. Something like that. Something casual. Something that hopefully didn’t make him sound like too much of an idiot. He smiled to himself. Maybe he should ask Aiden’s advice.

Fifty-One

Anyway, I’m sorry. Feel like

it’s my fault. I’m totally going

to kill Jodie and Vix

tomorrow. They shouldn’t

stir shit up online. It’s so year

six. X

I press send and wait. I’m sitting on my bed in the dark, but the curtains are open and the moon is full and low, throwing a fractured pool of light onto the carpet, splintered into white streaks by the thick branches of the tree outside.

11.45

Aiden

Not your fault! U’ve done nothing wrong. She’s mental. Just unlucky she saw us. Forget it. X

11.46

Tasha

As long as you’re OK. X

11.49

Aiden

Yeah just embarrassed she was so mad in front of Jamie and that policewoman. At least she left then. X

11.49

Tasha

Bennett was there? X

I’m surprised by this. What did she want? Why is she still hanging around here?

11.50

Aiden

Think they were on a date. Pretty sure Jamie’s hot for her.

11.51

Tasha

Gross!;-)

I smile, relieved. It is pretty gross. Caitlin Bennett probably doesn’t even shave her legs. But it’s also kind of perfect.
Bennett seeing Becca’s hysterics – that’s a lucky bonus.

11.51

Aiden

Yeah!

I bite my bottom lip and my fingers fly over the keyboard.

11.52

Tasha

If you want to do coffee and

whatever again, just let me know.

Really enjoyed it;-)xx

11.55

Aiden

Me too xx

Like he has to tell me he enjoyed it. Of course he did. I know this already.
Like everyone else, he’s so predictable.

11.57

Tasha

Night;-)

11.58

Aiden

Night xx

I think about how I kissed Aiden this afternoon after Becca saw us in Starbucks. He drove me home and I leaned across in the car that smelled of leather and sweet weed and tobacco, and then his lips were on mine. It was easy. And it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. He didn’t try and force his tongue down my throat like Mark Pritchard had. Maybe he was just surprised, but he was gentle. I don’t know quite what to make of it. Perhaps I shouldn’t think about it at all.

I should go to sleep, or at least try to. I need more than the three or four hours a night I’m getting and it’s wearing me down. I’m sure Dr Harvey would have plenty to say about it if I went back to her, but I have no intention of doing that. I look over at the chessboard, the white and black pieces neatly lined up and ready for battle again. Becca doesn’t know it but I finished the game against her a while ago – me against me. I tried to think like her for her pieces. My side still won. Now that game is over. Done.

Becca has unsettled me, though. That question about the bracelets first. I could see she was upset but that’s no big deal. It doesn’t really mean anything – we’re not friends now, anyway. But the green dress? I’d forgotten about that. Why bring it up? Why suddenly remember something I did all those years ago? If she misses hanging out with me so much, why bring
that
up? Hardly our happiest friendship memory. What did she
want
from that text? What did she expect me to say in reply? Was it a warning shot?

I stare at the neatly organised chequered board. In my head I make my opening gambit, thinking through all the eventualities, my mind always at least three moves ahead, constantly studying the board, deciding which pieces to sacrifice and which to save. It’s second nature to me. I almost text Becca, but I don’t. Silence is golden. If this is a fresh game we’re playing, then I’m already winning.

My eyes itch with tiredness and I lie back and stare up at the ceiling. Moonlight slashes across the paintwork. I count the shards of light. Thirteen. Of course. Everything I count always comes to thirteen. I force my eyes to stay open. The darkness is waiting for me in my sleep, whispering to me, and I won’t go there. I won’t. I count to thirteen again and wonder why I’m so afraid.

Fifty-Two

After drifting off in a pool of shameful tears for an hour or so when she finally got home and into bed, Becca barely slept. In her restless dreams she relived that moment over and over – seeing Aiden and Tasha together through the Starbucks window. The hand-touching. That look from Tasha. In her dreams she was filled with rage, beating her anger against the glass until her fists bled. The glass held. She was kept from them and her frustration made her murderous. She wanted to kill them. She burned to.

She woke in a sweat, confused and disorientated in the dark, but her brain was fizzing. A moment of clarity amidst all the stupidity –
her
stupidity. That look on Tasha’s face when she saw Becca. That small smile.

As if she’d been expecting her.

She opened the window and rolled a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands. She needed to think clearly. Maybe she was getting paranoid or actually going crazy or something, but her mind was knotted and needed untangling. What had Aiden said to her last night? When she was screaming and shouting at him, trying to punch him, before Jamie and
Bennett came back? She ignored the instinct to cringe at her own behaviour and focused on his words instead.

Natasha had added Aiden to Facebook.

Natasha had asked him to go for coffee.

She’d started liking his photos first.

Maybe he was lying. Maybe. But Becca kept thinking about that look on Tasha’s face through the glass. A quiet self-congratulation. A triumph. What had Miss Borders said?

I suspect that in Natasha’s eyes, everyone else on the board is a pawn.

Wide awake now, Becca flicked her bedside light on and grabbed some paper and a pen. She needed to try and put her thoughts in some order.

We’re all pawns
was the first thing she wrote.

Aiden, Me.

Hayley? Jenny???

Hannah??

She lied about the bracelets. Why? To make me her friend.

Hayley says, ‘She used Becca.’ Maybe not talking about Tasha but who else could it be?

After catching the bracelet lie, I texted about the green dress incident. No answer.

BUT then she has coffee with Aiden. I saw them.

She paused, dragging hard on the tobacco until she heard the paper crackle as it burned. The big
Why?
kept itching at her but she ignored it. This wasn’t about reasoning or figuring anything out. This was about putting events in order. Looking behind the scenes of those events. Behind the scenes was her skill.

But not by chance. I heard Vicki and Jodie talking about it. Exact details of where. Enough so I know it’s Aiden. Guitarists’ fingers. Did she tell them to do that? Make sure I heard? Maybe slagged me off? Everyone hates me anyway.

But they’d do it just to please her.

WHY???

She leaned back against her pillows. Always the whys. The big whys and the little ones – all her suppositions led to nothing without an answer. Maybe she was just seeing things that weren’t there. Making crazy connections between coincidences. Maybe it was crazy—

She froze and her eyes widened slightly, a chill creeping across her skin as pieces of the puzzle locked into place in her mind.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.
Becca gripped the pen tightly as she scribbled, her words all haste and sharp angles.

Tasha
knew
I’d go mental when I heard about Aiden.

I call her out about the bracelet lie. She feels threatened. I send her the text about the green dress. She thinks I’m making a point/threat?
She’s worried I know something.

So she makes her move: she plans me catching her with Aiden. She gets her new Barbies to make sure I know they’re at Starbucks and will go there to see for myself. (BITCHES.) Then they stir all that shit up on the Internet about my freak-out.

She knows I’ll hear about the shit-storm online. That I’ll look like a crazy jealous ex-girlfriend. That no one will believe a word I say.

IS THAT THE POINT?

She doesn’t know what I know (
what does she think I know??
) so she’s made me look totally mental.

It’s like a game of chess. All her pieces in place in case of attack.

Pawns. We’re all pawns to her.