Good Girl, Bad Blood

Pip’s alarm went off for school, chirping from her bedside table.

She yawned, sticking one foot outside the duvet. Then she remembered that she was suspended, so she tucked the foot back inside and leaned over to snooze the alarm.

But even through one sleepy eye, she saw the message waiting on her phone. Received seven minutes ago, from Nat da Silva.

Hi it’s Nat. I need to show you something. It’s about Jamie. About Layla Mead.

Her eyes hadn’t even unstuck yet, but Pip sat up and kicked off the duvet. Her jeans were still damp from last night as she pulled them on, with a white long sleeved T-shirt from the top of the laundry basket; it probably had one more use in it.

She was just fighting a brush through her rain-tangled hair when her mum came in to say goodbye before work.

‘I’m taking Josh to school now,’ she said.

‘OK.’ Pip winced as the brush caught in a knot. ‘Have a good day.’

‘We need to have a proper conversation about what’s going on with you, this weekend.’ Her mum’s eyes were stern, but her voice was trying not to be. ‘I know you’re under a lot of pressure, but we agreed that wouldn’t happen this time.’

‘No pressure, not any more,’ Pip said, the knot coming loose. ‘And I’m sorry about getting suspended.’ She wasn’t, not one bit. Ant deserved it, as far as she was concerned. But if that’s what her mum needed to hear to leave it alone, then lying it was. Her mum had the best intentions, Pip knew, but right now, those best intentions would only get in her way.

‘That’s OK, sweetie,’ she said. ‘I know the verdict must have hit you hard. And everything with Jamie Reynolds. Maybe it’s best if you stay in today, get some studying done. Some normality.’

‘OK, I’ll try.’

Pip waited, listening at her bedroom door to the sounds of her mum telling Joshua to put his shoes on the correct feet and ushering him outside. The car engine, wheels on the drive. She gave them a three-minute head start, and then she left.

Nat’s face appeared in the crack, her eyes swollen, white hair pushed back, broken up by visible finger tracks.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, pulling the door fully open.

‘I got your message,’ Pip said, her chest constricting as she met Nat’s sad eyes.

‘Yeah.’ Nat stepped back. ‘You should, um, you should come in.’ She beckoned Pip over the threshold, before closing the door and leading them down the corridor to the kitchen. The furthest Pip had ever been invited inside this house.

Nat took a seat at the small kitchen table, gesturing for Pip to take the one opposite. She did, sitting awkwardly at its very edge. Waiting, the air thickening between them.

Nat cleared her throat, rubbed one eye. ‘My brother told me something this morning. He said Max Hastings’ house was vandalized last night, and someone painted Rapist across his door.’

‘Oh . . . r-really?’ said Pip, swallowing hard.

‘Yeah. But, apparently, they don’t know who it was, don’t have any witnesses or anything.’

‘Oh, that’s a . . . that’s a shame,’ Pip coughed.

Nat looked pointedly at her, something different, something new in her eyes. And Pip knew that she knew.

Then something else happened; Nat reached out across the table and took Pip’s hand. Held on to it.

‘And I saw you uploaded that audio file,’ she said, her hand shifting around inside Pip’s. ‘You’re going to get in trouble for that, aren’t you?’

‘Probably,’ said Pip.

‘I know how that feels,’ Nat said. ‘That anger. Like you just want to set fire to the world and watch it burn.’

‘Something like that.’

Nat tightened her grip on Pip’s hand and then she let it go, drawing hers back flat against the table. ‘I think we’re quite alike, you and me. I didn’t before. I wanted to hate you so badly, I really did. I used to hate Andie Bell that much; for a while it felt like the only thing I had. And you know why I wanted to hate you so much? Apart from you being a pain in the arse.’ She tapped her fingers. ‘I listened to your podcast, and it made me not hate Andie quite so much any more. In fact, I felt sorry for her, so I hated you even harder instead. But I think I’ve been hating the wrong people all along.’ She sniffed with a tiny smile. ‘You’re OK,’ she said.

‘Thanks,’ Pip said, Nat’s smile passing to her and then out of the open window.

‘And you were right.’ Nat picked at her fingernails. ‘About Luke.’

‘Your boyfriend?’

‘Not any more. Not that he knows it yet.’ She laughed, but there was no joy in it.

‘What was I right about?’

‘What you noticed, when you asked where we were the night Jamie went missing. Luke said he was home all night, alone.’ She paused. ‘He was lying, you were right.’

‘Did you ask him where he was?’ said Pip.

‘No. Luke doesn’t like to be asked questions.’ Nat shifted in her chair. ‘But after Jamie never showed up and was ignoring my calls, I went over to Luke’s house to see him. He wasn’t there. And his car was gone.’

‘What time was this?’

‘Around midnight. Then I went back home.’

‘So, you don’t know where Luke was?’ Pip leaned forward, elbows on the table.

‘I do now.’ Nat withdrew one of her hands to pull her phone out, laying it on the table. ‘Last night, I was thinking about what you said yesterday, that maybe Luke had something to do with Jamie’s disappearance. So I, uh, looked through his phone while he was asleep. Went through his WhatsApps. He’s been talking to a girl.’ She laughed again, small and hollow. ‘She’s called Layla Mead.’

Pip felt the name creeping along her skin, climbing up her spine, jumping rung to rung.

‘You said Jamie’s been talking to her too,’ Nat said. ‘I stayed up till four, listening to your two episodes. You don’t know who Layla is, but Luke does.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘That’s where he was, the night of Jamie’s disappearance. Meeting Layla.’

‘Really?’

‘That’s what his messages say. They’ve been talking for several weeks, I scrolled back and read every message. Looks like they met on Tinder, so that’s great for me. And the messages are, you know, explicit. Also great for me. But they hadn’t met yet, not until last Friday night. Here.’ She unlocked her phone, thumbing on to her photos app. ‘I took two screenshots and sent them to my phone. I was already thinking of showing you, because, you know . . . you came back, so I didn’t have to be alone. And when I heard about Max’s house, that’s when I decided to message you. Here.’ She passed the phone into Pip’s waiting hands.

Pip’s eyes trailed down the first screenshot: Luke’s messages on the right in green boxes, Layla’s left and white.

I’ ve been thinking about you . . .

Yeah? Been thinking bout you too

Nothing good I hope : )

You know me

I’ d like to.

I don’ t wanna wait any more. Wanna meet tonight?

Alright where?

Car park in Lodge Wood

Pip’s breath stuttered at Layla’s last message. The car park at Lodge Wood; her search party team had walked through that car park on Wednesday. It fell inside their zone.

She glanced up quickly at Nat before swiping to the second screenshot.

A car park?

I won’ t be wearing much . . .

When?

Come now.

Then ten minutes later, at 11:58 p.m.:

Are you coming?

Almost there.

And then much later, at 12:41 a.m. from Luke:

What the fuck, I’ m gonna kill you

Pip’s eyes shot up to Nat’s.

‘I know,’ she said, nodding. ‘No more messages from either of them after that. But he knows who Layla is, and you think she had something to do with Jamie?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Pip said, sliding Nat’s phone back across the table. ‘I think she had everything to do with Jamie.’

‘I need you to find him,’ Nat said, and there was quiver to her lip now that wasn’t there before, a sheen to her dried-out eyes. ‘Jamie, he . . . he’s really important to me. And I-I just need him to be OK.’

It was Pip who reached across the table now, taking Nat’s hand in hers, her thumb hovering above the sharp ridges and falls of Nat’s knuckles. ‘I’m trying,’ she said.