Michael stared at me for a second, then burst out laughing. His laugh was like a bark. ‘That’s a good one.’ The frown twitched back and he looked around. ‘Couldn’t stand her. Who cares if she’s dead. One less to worry about.’
I was shocked (but vaguely pleased).
‘So,’ he kicked at the ground, ‘your mum’s still working too hard to look after the garden. If she needs help, tell her to name her price. Tell her to call me.’
‘OK.’
He stared at me, so I stared harder.
He shrugged. ‘What?’
I was sure he’d want to hear more about Nic. I thought he’d want me to tell him about Vicky’s stupid party and how, after Dr Senner closed it down, everyone went off to Bluebell Woods. I thought he’d want all the blood and guts of it. But I suppose he’s probably heard it from his dad.
So I sat down on the grass next to his feet and said Mum could definitely give him a few odd jobs, blah-blah, but surely too much lifting and carrying wouldn’t be good. I asked if he needed a helper, etc. It was massively frustrating and boring. I wanted to tell him the important stuff (i.e. the-truth-the-whole-truth-and-nothing-but) only I wasn’t sure how he’d react. He says he’s not sorry Nic’s dead but that doesn’t mean he’ll want to hear how I killed her.
‘The garden’s taken quite a beating because of all the storms, and it was because of the storms that everyone thinks Nic fell.’
‘At least they can’t blame me. I suppose I should be angry, though, I’ve been upstaged by a fucking airhead like Nicolette Prevost!’
I turned back and saw Michael smirking in what I’d call a most worrying way.
‘So come on, brain-box, you can’t really think she was swept off the cliffs by accident.’ He nodded towards the cliff edge. ‘She’d have had to get right up close to the edge and she’d only have done that if she was going to jump.’
My heart went into reverse and stalled. I wondered if Michael was trying to trick me.
He was glowering expertly. ‘No one likes to imagine she’d do something so fucked up, eh? She had it easy, why would she want to die? Just shows you never know what’s going on in people’s heads. We’re all a bit twisted under the skin.’
He was now staring at me in an officially-mad way, so I bobbed my head happily.
‘Yes, we’re all twisted, I absolutely agree, but I really think you’ve got it wrong. The Senners’ homebrew is lethal. She could’ve got lost in the dark and she wore such stupid shoes.’
Michael made a huffing noise, then he brushed his hands on his jeans. ‘Nicolette Prevost was never on her own, so why the fuck was she on her own here?’
I shrugged. ‘Accidents happen. People get drunk and make stupid mistakes. After all . . . you did.’
The minute the words were out of my mouth I wanted to take them back. Michael was already on his feet.
I scrambled after him. ‘Hey! I didn’t mean – where are you off to?’
I tried to grab at him and he staggered forward, and because of his weak leg he almost lost his balance. It’s quite a steep slope and I was honestly just trying to slow him down. Then we got entangled. I’m not sure if I was holding on to him or if he was holding on to me, but as we tumbled onto the grass he doubled up and reached for his knee.
‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’
A real-live tear slid down his cheek and his whole face creased like paper. I felt the soggy earth press through my leggings, I tried to put my arm around his shoulder. He looked up and his eyes were all over me, which was strange but also great. I imagined us rolling around in the mud together (although he clearly didn’t).
‘I’m really sorry.’
He winced as he hinged his leg back and forth.
‘Yeah, yeah. It was an accident.’
I didn’t know what to say so I just sat there. Michael rubbed his knee for a little bit longer, then he stared at the ground in between his legs. After a while he took up a stick and started breaking it into pieces. I waited and picked at my fingers (I know, I know, a revolting habit). Minutes passed. Then, finally, he asked me to help him get back on his feet.