proof. I had fought Nic. I had been there. But when I looked at my face it was no different. I had the same small eyes and podgy face. No scratches or cuts. I could cover up my elbow as easily as Dad had covered up his hand. No one need know.
I looked at my face in the mirror for a long time that night and I managed to convince myself that everything would be OK. I went into my bedroom and got undressed. As I pulled on my nightie I pretended it was any other winter’s night, with the wind howling outside and me all warm and cosy. I lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. It was self-defence. I’d never wanted a fight and I’d begged Nic to stop. She’d thrown herself at me. There was nothing else I could’ve done.
There didn’t seem much point in telling people after that. They didn’t need to know the whole grisly truth, which would surely just cause a lot more pain. It’s the worst thing in the world to watch someone die in front of you, knowing you can’t help them. It’s the sort of thing you want to deny for as long as possible, maybe for ever. Right, Mum?
Therese and Mr Prevost didn’t even worry when Nic stayed out all of Saturday night – it was only on Sunday evening that they called around Nic’s friends, although they can’t have been that desperate because they never called me. When Nic didn’t show up at school on Monday morning Mrs Perrot made A Special Announcement. Everyone thought Nic had run away.
‘If any of you know anything,’ she said, ‘will you please come and tell me?’
Lisa was looking worried and Vick was looking sick. There was an electric buzz of chatter at lunchtime, but I steered clear of it. Then I saw the police car outside the staff offices and some of the girls from Vicky’s party were called in by Mrs Perrot.
Nic’s body was washed off the rocks and a fisherman had picked her up with his lobster pots that very afternoon. They couldn’t work out what had happened, but everyone said Nic was drunk and then a blood test proved how much. Fortunately alcohol hangs around in the blood for ages, unlike Insulin, which is absorbed by the body after only eight hours. (Yes. I’ve done my research.)
There are plenty of things I can never be sure of, but I do know Nic was drunk when she attacked me, and she was a mean drunk and therefore capable of murder. Maybe she’d have fallen anyway, on account of her reckless nature. Maybe it was Karma. Donnie had always talked about Karma – i.e. you reap what you sow. Dad thought Karma was rubbish and that you couldn’t choose your Fate because History had already dictated it. Either way, I never wanted Nic to die and sometimes I wish I’d died with her, and I still don’t know why I didn’t.
Maybe that was Karma. But if it was, doesn’t that mean something bad will need to happen to me? Isn’t that inevitable? Isn’t that my Fate?
24TH DECEMBER 1985, 7 p.m.
[Dad’s study]
So now you know everything. This is it. The End. You probably think I’m mad or really horrible, but the truth is I’m neither. I’m ordinary. I’m not pretty or special or good at sports and I’m not even clever, I just work very hard. Nic and I should never have been friends. What I did was very wrong, I know. But do you remember what Michael said about that other force around or outside of him? I swear it was like that. I did what I did because there was no other way.
And now it’s my turn to say goodbye and the funny thing is, I’ve never felt more alive. I’m excited and I’m scared, but I’m also very calm. So calm, in fact, I went and made my peace with Vicky. I knew it wasn’t right to leave things as they were – with her feeling guilty for what happened to Nic. I wanted to bury the hatchet (and no, not in her head).
She got back from hospital after lunch and I went round the minute I heard. I must say the Senners’ house was looking very Jingle Bells. For a second I wanted to stay another day. They’ve got a huge Christmas tree propped up with presents and spray-on snow around every window. Vicky was