Wanting it to be over with, he pulled open the parcel. Inside the brown paper wrapping was a large evidence bag, which was sealed with a row of big staples. They made a tearing noise as he yanked the flap free. He upended the bag and Jess’s things slid out. Each item was individually sealed in a plastic Ziploc bag. For a few moments he didn’t touch anything. He felt hot with shame and dread. Nervously he picked up the bag with her clothes in. There was a tangle of pale blue fabric and white lace. Her dress and her underwear. The colours of her last night out, stained brown with patches of blood. He pushed the clothes back into the evidence bag. He couldn’t bear to look at them.
He turned his attention to her shoes, her white Vans, no longer clean, but normally blemished, lived-in. These he liberated from their plastic prison. He held them to his chest for a few minutes. The last shoes she ever wore, except for the pair of green Converse that she’d been cremated in. Carefully and lovingly, he added her scruffy trainers to the collection in the bottom of her wardrobe. Home at last. With tears sliding silently down his cheeks, he carefully returned everything else to its rightful place. The hairbrush, still clogged with strands of Jess’s hair, to the shelf near her mirror; her lip balm to her make-up bag; her purse and an open pack of tissues to the top drawer of her bedside cabinet; her bag to the hook on the back of the door. Which left him with only one Ziploc wallet to open. The bag with her phone inside. The real reason he’d asked for her belongings back.
Marcus knew that Jess’s life was stored on her phone and that, if he looked through it, he would read and see things she’d never intended for his eyes, or anyone else’s. But he also knew that her phone was the key to his daughter’s secrets. The need to know was stronger than the shame. He wiped his face with his sleeve and cleared his throat. ‘I hope you understand why I’m doing this, sweetheart. I know it’s wrong, invading your privacy. But we never got to speak, did we? We never got to say anything to each other at the end – not even goodbye. I never got to tell you how much I admire you. And that I will always love you. And that’s not right, is it, love? I would never normally look at your messages, but now…well, now it’s different. I can’t not. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.’
He picked up the bag with her phone in and opened it. Her life lay in the palm of his hand. Pandora’s box.
But it remained closed to him. Because even as he went to press the On button he knew the battery would be dead. The screen stayed dark. Of course it did. What was he thinking? He leant down, caught hold of Jess’s charger cable and plugged in her phone.
Chapter 55
JAKE WAS in town, shopping for a new top – he was going on a night out with his brothers, and he couldn’t have Sonny looking sharper than him. He felt better than he had for ages, physically and in other ways. He still liked having a good moan about having to drag himself out of bed at 5.50 a.m. every morning, but being back at work with the other lads was proving good for his soul and his bank balance. And – much as he appreciated what a rock his mum had been through the long months of his recovery – it was a relief to be away from her. His limp was still quite pronounced, but it was proving to be a good talking point. It certainly helped to get conversations started in bars, especially with the girls. They were always interested to hear about the crash and how awful his injuries had been.
He was just coming out of TK Maxx when he spotted Tish. She was standing outside WH Smith, looking at her phone. At the sight of her, Jake felt a stir of emotions. Tish had been his ‘best’ girlfriend – not only in his estimation, but in everyone else’s. She was the hottest girl who’d ever let him get close, though not as close as he would’ve liked, and people assumed…not that anyone needed to know that. She’d been, if truth be told, a bit of a tease, happy to date, go out, have fun, flirt, snog, let him have a touch and a taste of her, but the moment he’d tried taking it further she’d always cut him off. If she hadn’t looked the way she did – the way she had – he would probably have ended it with her, eventually. But he hadn’t. And her looks weren’t the whole story. Tish had also been good company; that’s what had made it worthwhile. As Jake watched her scrolling through her phone, he remembered how funny she could be, how up for a laugh, a good night out – more like a mate really, except a mate with a hot body.
The accident had changed all that, of course, and he didn’t just mean Tish’s appearance – he wasn’t that shallow a bastard. It was the whole painful, awful, messy aftermath. They’d both been too bashed up in the first few weeks after the crash, and by the time he’d started feeling better and Tish had got out of hospital, it had been too late. A few DMs were all they’d managed after Jess had died. Jake really hadn’t known what to write. What was there to say about something so terrible? By the time they met up at Jess’s funeral, it had been chronically awkward. At Harry’s sentencing, they’d actively avoided each other.
But now, seeing Tish again, oblivious that he was watching her, Jake felt a strong urge to go over and say ‘Hi’. Maybe he could see if she fancied going for a coffee. The thought of being able to give her a hug, talk to her, hear her laugh at one of his jokes appealed. Being normal together, it seemed possible, desirable. Friends again. That would be good. They’d known each other for so long. She looked up, scanned the crowds. Tight jeans, heeled boots. God, she looked good. Back, nearly, to the girl she’d been. A couple of guys walking past Tish checked her out. She didn’t notice. Jake decided. Yep, he wanted to talk to her. Wanted her back in his life, as a friend – at the very least.
He ran a hand over his hair, double-checking it wasn’t sticking up at the back, and stepped out of the shop doorway, intending to go over, reconnect.
He never got the chance.
Out of nowhere, Mo appeared. Tish saw Mo and, with a lift of her chin and a widening of her beautiful brown eyes, she smiled. Mo walked up to her and, to Jake’s shock and dismay, they kissed. Not a peck on the cheek, either, but a full-on proper kiss. Then they turned and headed off, hand-in-hand, down Coney Street. Jake watched them, acutely aware that in all their time going out together, Tish had never once held his hand.
Chapter 56
MARCUS WAITED. The thought that the handset was one of the last things Jess had touched before she died haunted him, but there was no going back. He had to know. The screen came back to life. All her passwords and codes were written down on the inside cover of her notebook – neatly listed. He was ‘in’ within a few seconds. Where to start? He opted for a simple test. He scrolled through her messages to see who she’d been in touch with the most.
There were hundreds and hundreds of texts and photos. Marcus felt like he was travelling back in time. Jess’s life and loves unravelled in front of his eyes in one endless, frantic, taunting loop.
After only a few seconds he knew who her boyfriend had been.
He sat back and let the confirmation sink in.
Harry.
Jess’s lifelong friend, the kid who had been part of their lives for so long that he was like another member of the family. The boy who been on holiday with them, eaten countless meals in their kitchen, joked with Marcus, wound Jess up, turned to Fran for advice – that Harry – had, at some point, become more to Jess than just a friend. He had become the object of her passion and affection. Her jealously guarded secret.