‘Morning,’ a voice called from across the road. It was Mary Scythe from the Kilton Mail, with a black Labrador at her side. ‘Good morning,’ Pip returned the greeting, but it sounded empty even to her own ears. Luckily her ringing phone excused her. She turned away and swiped to answer.
‘Pip,’ Ravi said.
‘Oh god,’ she said, falling into his voice, wrapping herself up with it. ‘You won’t believe what’s happened this morning. It was on the news that they found a body, a white male in his twenties. So I panicked, went to the Reynoldses’ house but they called in and it wasn’t Jamie, it was someone else . . .’
‘Pip?’
‘. . . and Arthur finally agreed to talk to me. And he told me that Jamie asked him to borrow nine hundred pounds, the exact amount Robin said Luke had just lost this week, so . . .’
‘Pip?’
‘. . . that’s too coincidental to be nothing, right? So then I just went to see Nat and she insists Jamie didn’t go there after—’
‘Pip, I really need you to stop talking and listen to me.’ And now Pip heard it, the edge in his voice, new and unfamiliar.
‘What? Sorry. What?’ she said, her feet slowing to a stop.
‘The jury just returned their verdict,’ he said.
‘Already? And?’
But Ravi didn’t say anything, and she could hear a click as his breath caught in his throat.
‘No,’ she said, her heart picking up on that click before she did, throwing itself against her ribs. ‘Ravi? What? No, don’t say . . . it can’t . . .’
‘They found him not guilty, on all charges.’
And Pip didn’t hear what he said next because her ears flooded with blood, a rushing sound, like a windstorm trapped inside her head. Her hand found the wall beside her and she leaned into it, lowering herself down to sit on the cold concrete pavement.
‘No,’ she whispered, because if she said it any louder, she would scream. She still might scream; she could feel it clawing at her insides, fighting to get out. She grabbed her face and held her mouth shut, fingernails digging into her cheeks.
‘Pip,’ Ravi said, gently. ‘I’m so sorry. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. It isn’t fair. This isn’t right. If there was anything I could do to change this, I would. Anything. Pip? Are you OK?’
‘No,’ she said through her hand. She would never be OK again. This was it; the worst thing that could have happened. She’d thought about it, had had bad dreams about it, but she’d known it couldn’t really happen. It wouldn’t happen. But it just did. And the truth no longer mattered. Max Hastings, not guilty. Even though she had his voice on a recording, admitting to it all. Even though she knew he was guilty, beyond any doubt. But no, she and Nat da Silva and Becca Bell and those two women from university: they were the liars now. And a serial rapist had just walked free.
Her mind turned to Nat.
‘Oh god, Nat,’ she said, removing her hand. ‘Ravi, I have to go, I have to go back to see Nat. Make sure she’s OK.’
‘OK, I lo—’ he said, but it was too late. Pip had already pressed the red button, pushing herself up from the ground as she turned back down Gravelly Way.
She knew that Nat hated her. But she also knew that Nat shouldn’t be alone when she heard the news. No one should be alone for something like that.
Pip sprinted, her trainers slapping uncomfortably against the pavement, juddering up through her body. Her chest hurt, like her heart wanted to give out already, give up. But she ran, pushing herself harder as she turned the corner on to Cross Lane, back to that painted blue door.
She knocked this time, forgetting about the bell because her mind was already stuttering, rewinding the last few minutes. It couldn’t have happened, could it? This couldn’t be real. It didn’t feel real.
Nat’s silhouette emerged in the frosted glass, and Pip tried to read it, study it, work out if Nat’s world had already been blown apart.
She opened the door, jaw clenching as soon as she saw Pip standing there.
‘What the fuck, I told you to . . .’
But then she must have noticed the way Pip was breathing. The horror that must be written all over her face.
‘What is it?’ Nat said quickly, pulling the door open fully. ‘Is Jamie OK?’
‘H-have you heard?’ Pip said, and her voice sounded strange to her, not her own. ‘The verdict?’
‘What?’ Nat narrowed her eyes. ‘No, no one’s called me yet. Are they done? What . . . ?’
And Pip could see the moment it happened, the moment Nat read what was on her face. The moment her eyes changed.
‘No,’ she said, but it was more a breath than a word.
She stumbled back from the door, hands snapping up to her face as she gasped, her eyes glazing over.
‘No!’ The word was a strangled yell this time, choking her. Nat fell back into the wall in the hallway, slamming against it. A picture frame dropped from its hook, cracking as it hit the floor.
Pip darted forward, inside the house, catching Nat around the arms as she slid down the wall. But she lost her footing and they slid down together, Nat right down to the floorboards, Pip to her knees.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Pip said. ‘I’m so so so sorry.’
Nat was crying, but the tears stained as they ran through her make-up, black tears chasing each other down her face.
‘This can’t be real,’ she cried. ‘It can’t be real. FUCK!’
Pip sat forward, wrapping her arms around Nat’s back. She thought Nat would pull away from her, push her off. But she didn’t. She leaned into Pip, arms climbing up and around her neck as she held on. Tight. Her face buried into Pip’s shoulder.
Nat screamed, the sound muffled, burrowing into Pip’s jumper, her breath hot and jagged as it spread down into Pip’s skin. And then the scream broke open and she cried, shaking the both of them with the force of it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Pip whispered.
Twenty-Nine
Nat’s scream never left her. She could feel it there, slinking around beneath her skin. Feel it simmering as she walked into her history lesson eighteen minutes late and Mr Clark said, ‘Ah, Pip. What time do you call this? Do you think your time is more valuable than mine?’
And she’d replied, ‘No, sir, sorry sir,’ quietly, when really all she wanted to do was let the scream out, tell him that yes, it probably was. She’d taken her place next to Connor at the back, her grip tightening on her pen until it snapped, pieces of plastic scattering between her fingers.
The lunch bell rang and they followed it out of the room, she and Connor. He’d heard about the verdict from Cara because Ravi had texted her, worrying when he hadn’t heard back from Pip. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all Connor said as they traipsed towards the cafeteria. That’s all he could say, all Pip could say too, but there was no amount of sorrys that could ever fix this.
They found the others at their usual lunch table, and Pip slotted in beside Cara, squeezing her hand once in greeting.
‘Have you told Naomi?’ Pip asked her.
Cara nodded. ‘She’s devastated, can’t believe it.’