13 Minutes (36 page)

There was a long pause before her pen moved again.

What if Natasha never lost her memory at all?

Fifty-Four

I answer Aiden’s text saying I have a headache and will call later. It’s a delaying tactic and I’m annoyed at myself for not just playing along. I know I should, but I just want a few minutes’ peace. Jodie and Vicki are irritating me. Aiden is irritating me. They’re all so fucking needy. I don’t like the sound of the swear word in my head. It’s like a momentary lapse of control.

I need to get a grip. I do not make mistakes. I am meticulous and always have been. I am a planner. Even in that stupid – but admittedly useful – diary I admitted that. People so often try and make themselves look
good
when they lie. That, however, should never be the point. The point should be to distract from the truth. Whether you look good or not is irrelevant. All that matters is that you sound believable.

I always knew Bennett would ask for the notebook – Dr Harvey was bound to tell her about it, and if she hadn’t, I’d have slipped it into our conversation and then done exactly what I did – made a big fuss about not wanting to hand it over, but then handing it over all the same.
Voilà.

There’s a lot of honesty in that notebook DI Bennett took away with her. My thoughts on my family, sex and my fear of sleeping – that’s all true. As are all the conversations I wrote down. It’s easy to lie when you’ve created the situation to begin with, and the best lies are half-truths anyway.

*

I can hear my mother calling me for dinner and her voice reminds me that no one likes a perfect person anyway. They’re either too uptight – like my mother – or too sweet. Sweet girls have no friends. Look at Hannah. I try not to think about Hannah. She wasn’t part of the plan. She inserted herself into my plan. To be fair to me, the light was an improvisation. I plotted everything else out meticulously, but the light just presented itself and I couldn’t resist.

And now there really
is
a murder charge. Poor Hayley. Poor Jenny. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d been angry with them, but I only wanted to teach them a lesson. Have them publicly shamed; excluded, maybe. A couple of years of counselling for a bullying incident that got out of hand. I wasn’t supposed to die. That instantly made it all more serious, but I could have kept that under control. Blamed myself.

Hannah, however, has changed things. And this irritates me, too, but I can’t do anything about that now and perhaps it’s better this way. I doubt Hayley, Jenny and I could be friends again, nice as the thought is, whether I’d taught them a two-year lesson or a lifetime one. It’s all their fault, anyway. If they hadn’t been planning to discard me as if I was some nobody like Hannah Alderton instead of the one who
made
them, then I wouldn’t have needed to do anything. They were prepared to humiliate me. Everyone wants to be my friend.
Everyone.
They always have. How dare they think they were better than that? They started all this by thinking they didn’t need me any more. And as for Hannah, well, it’s not like I forced her to stand under that light. And she was never going to be anything more than a candle waiting for snuffing. I never see the point in people like Hannah.

Becca. I wonder what is going on in Becca’s crazy jealous little head. Becca is the cause of my strange mood, I know it. I just want to get back to normal, but along comes Bex with her mentions of green dresses and lies and then this afternoon, when we were leaving school, she comes right up to me and asks when I’m dying my hair brown again.

It’s not like you need to be blonde any more, is it?

That’s what she said. There was a challenge in her eyes, I’m sure of it. Was she expecting me to react? To give something away? If so, then she’s as stupid as her tobacco-stinking needy ex-boyfriend.

Or was it something else? Was she trying to let me know something? But what? How much can she know? The green-dress situation is similar – even if the outcome this time has been somewhat more dramatic. I set Hayley up to take the blame then, too. Becca remembers that. But even if she’s got suspicions she can’t prove anything. Can she? I’m not sure if my uncertainty about her intentions is disturbing me or entertaining me. It’s not like she can harm me. Not now. It’s done. The game is over. And she’s still doing exactly what is expected of her. Her jealous rage was perfect. No one will believe a word she says even if she does know something. Her reaction was so predictable.

Everyone is so predictable.

My mum calls again. ‘In a minute!’ I shout back. She’s mouse-like now. I see worry in her eyes all the time and I wonder how she could have given birth to me, raised me, and still not
see
me
at all.

But I guess she does have some cause for concern. I was technically dead for thirteen minutes and, precise as I had been in my planning, that was unexpected.

Thirteen minutes. Maybe that’s why I see the thirteens everywhere. A reminder of how close everything came to ending. To the joke being on me. It wasn’t even my fault. I guess it goes to show – the best laid plans of mice and men . . .

I still get angry thinking about those extra five minutes I spent in the water. If I could get away with it, I think I’d kill that dog. I remember that class hamster in Year One. The one that bit me and made my finger bleed. The one Hannah Alderton loved so much. How I broke its neck, even as it squealed and wriggled in my hands. I would like to do that to the dog. I still might, one day, when all of this is forgotten.

All my careful planning. All those early-morning runs through the woods and the park, watching who was out regularly, who walks dogs, or walks to work, or is just some insomniac who can’t sleep. I had it all timed to the minute and Jamie McMahon and that mongrel dog were like clockwork. I watched them from behind the trees across the river, saw where the dog likes to nosey down by the banks. McMahon sometimes on his phone – which was perfect. I’d need him to have a working phone. Every day the same time. Apart from that day.
My
day. The day I needed them there. The dog hid his collar
that
day. When I went to give gushing thanks with Mum and had to pet it, I wanted to snap its scruffy neck.

Still, even if it did suddenly raise the stakes for Hayley and Jenny, I didn’t die for good and it was far more effective than just feigning unconsciousness for a moment. No one questioned my amnesia. I still stuck to my plan. Even when Dr Harvey suggested hypnosis, I had an answer for that.
Too much like drowning.

I’m quite proud of the way I continued so calmly, even though I don’t really feel proud of things I’ve achieved in the way that other people do. I am sometimes
satisfied
, but that’s different. I did die, though, and I still woke up and got on with having everything unravel as planned, so I think a little bit of pride is allowed. I planned it all and even with the odd glitch it’s unfolded perfectly.

I wonder if I should do something about Becca. Something final. The thought feels less extreme after what happened with Hannah. In for a penny, in for a pound, after all. But I decide against it. Not yet, anyway. I’ve made Becca a joke. No one takes her seriously. And I’m not sure what her intentions are yet – she may not know anything at all. And if I’m honest, I’m quite enjoying her occasional unpredictability.

I go to the bathroom and put some drops in my eyes before heading down for dinner. It doesn’t ease their tired burn. I need to stop being afraid to sleep. I need to stop being afraid of whatever is waiting for me in the darkness. Being afraid was never part of my plan. Being afraid is not who I am.

Fifty-Five

This time Becca left the house before her mum was even awake. It was just gone seven a.m. but she’d been up, pacing and thinking, for hours. She’d sent Aiden one text at about two in the morning –
Be careful
– but didn’t hear back. He might have told Tasha about it, and fine by her if he did. This was no longer about Aiden, and she found that her anger and hurt were melting away to nothing. She just felt a bit sorry for him. He was being used exactly like she had been.

She needed to do two things before school. The first was the hardest, but she had to do it if she was going to understand what happened with those two mobile phones.

‘What do you want?’

Hayley’s mum was up but she looked like death.

‘Who is it?’ Hayley’s dad loomed large in the background before coming into view. ‘Oh. You.’

Becca’s heart thumped hard and her face burned, but she forced herself to speak. ‘I’m sorry, I just need to ask you something. It’s important. It might help Hayley.’

‘You’ve done a great job so far.’ His voice held so much disdain for her – he couldn’t even muster hate. She must look pathetic. Some little puppy dog of Natasha’s who’d helped put their daughter in prison. And they were right.

‘Did Natasha ever come here?’ She pushed on, not wanting to give them time to slam the door in her face before she asked her question. ‘After she was found in the river. On her own?’

They stared at her for a moment, and then Hayley’s mum sighed. ‘No. No, she didn’t. She didn’t even come here with Hayley. She was
your
friend by then. She hadn’t been here for a while
before
her accident. Only Jenny.’

Becca felt a surge of disappointment. If Tasha hadn’t come here, then it was stalemate, and maybe she
was
just on some major paranoia jag.

‘You’re sure?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Hayley’s mum repeated. ‘Now fuck off.’ The words, tired and loaded with grief, were like a heavyweight punch in the solar plexus and Becca instantly took two steps back. You didn’t hear those words from someone’s mum. Not in Becca’s nice middle-class life.

‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to help. I’m sorry.’

‘Leave us alone,’ Hayley’s dad grumbled, and he leaned across his wife to close the door. ‘You’ve done enough damage already.’

‘Wait.’

The word was barely more than a breath.

‘Wait,’ Hayley’s mum said again. She looked at Becca; a fragile, fluttering broken bird.

‘There was one time. When she brought the bracelet. Hayley was still at school and I was here on my own.’

Becca’s heart leapt; a dog tugging at a leash with excitement. ‘Did she give it to you?’

‘No.’ The woman’s eyes crinkled as she remembered. ‘No, I stayed downstairs. She went up to Hayley’s bedroom and left the gift box on her pillow. I remember thinking how sweet it was.’

Becca grinned. She couldn’t help it. She must have looked crazy, standing there in the face of all their heartache smiling like a loon. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ She turned and left them staring after her, hurrying down the street. It wasn’t a stalemate at all. In fact, the pieces were nearly in place for the endgame.

‘Why does it matter?’ Mrs Gallagher shouted after her. ‘What difference does it make?’ Becca didn’t answer. Maybe they’d figure it out for themselves. First she needed to
prove
it.

*

DI Bennett was no use. Becca got a bus into town and was at the Police Station by eight a.m., and waited fifteen minutes before Bennett arrived. She came in clutching a take-away coffee and looking like she hadn’t slept much.

‘Rebecca? What are you doing here?’

‘I need to talk to you. About the CCTV footage.’

The detective frowned, confused. ‘Why? I’m working on another case now. Everything has gone to the prosecution services.’

‘Did you just look at cameras in the phone shop? Did you follow the girl out? Or check Primark’s cameras?’

‘Rebecca, is this because Natasha is seeing Aiden now? I know it hurts, but—’

‘It’s got nothing to do with that!’ Becca wanted to thump her and her faux sympathy just to get her to
listen
. ‘It’s about the coat. You said it yourself: it was a cheap coat. There were hundreds of them. How can you be absolutely sure it was Jenny wearing it? How do you know someone else didn’t buy it in Primark and wear it to look like Jenny? Hayley, Jenny and Natasha are
all
blondes. Could you tell them apart from a distance? In a grainy camera shot? Honestly?’

‘Look, the case is closed,’ Bennett said. ‘And with no small thanks to you. Let it go. Get on with your life.’

‘Hayley might not have been the last person to touch the light that killed Hannah,’ Becca said, defiant. ‘We had lessons but Natasha had a free. She said she’d take the tools back, so we left her there. We left Natasha by the light with the tools and the ladder.’

Bennett stared at her in shocked disbelief. ‘Are you trying to tell me you think Natasha bought the phones, and that Natasha killed Hannah?’

‘That’s exactly what I think.’

They stared at each other for a long moment in the hubbub of the desk sergeant’s reception area. Bennett hadn’t even invited her inside to talk. She clearly saw Becca as a nuisance.

‘When is your next appointment with Doctor Harvey?’ the policewoman said, eventually, and Becca burst into frustrated laughter.

‘I know what you think. You think this is because of Aiden. That I’m angry and jealous and crazy, and maybe I am all of those things, a little bit. I know I’ve made myself look really stupid. But this . . . it isn’t that.’

‘Go to school, Rebecca.’ Bennett was getting impatient. ‘Don’t make things worse for yourself.’

Becca smiled at her bitterly and shrugged, starting to walk away. She hadn’t really expected anything different. ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ she said over her shoulder before the woman could disappear through the main doors and into the hub of the building.

‘What?’

‘How neat it all was? The receipt in the locker? The phones in their bedrooms, still with all those texts on them? The evidence might as well have been wrapped up in a bow and given as a gift. It basically was. And I delivered it. And don’t you find those texts odd? I bet they stopped immediately after the night Natasha went in the river. Nothing more after that? Don’t you think that’s weird?’ She stared at the policewoman but got no reaction.