I read through some messages and I found the person who bought Rohypnol from her. She’d used his name in one of the texts.’
‘Max Hastings,’ said Pip.
‘And I thought,’ she cried, ‘I thought that now I knew, we would be able to fix everything and put it right. And I thought that when Andie got home, I’d tell her and she’d let me cry on her and tell me she was so sorry and that we, me and her, were going to set this right and make him pay. All I wanted was my big sister. And just the freedom of finally telling someone.’
Pip wiped her eyes, feeling shaky and drained.
‘And then Andie came home,’ Becca said.
‘With a head injury?’
‘No, I didn’t know that at the time,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see anything. She was just here, in the kitchen and I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to tell her. And –’ Becca’s voice broke – ‘when I did she just looked at me and said she didn’t care. I tried to explain and she wouldn’t listen. She just said I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone or I’d get her in trouble. She tried to leave the room and I stood in her way. Then she said I should be grateful that someone had actually wanted me, because I was just the fat, ugly version of her. And she tried to push me out of the way. I just couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t believe she could be so cruel. I pushed her back and tried to explain again and we were both shouting and shoving and then . . . it was so fast.
‘Andie fell back on the floor. I didn’t think I’d pushed her that hard. Her eyes were closed. And then she was being sick. It was all over her face and in her hair. And,’ Becca sobbed, ‘then her mouth was full and she was coughing and choking on it. And I . . . I just froze. I don’t know why, I was just so angry at her. When I look back now I don’t know whether I made any decision or not. I don’t remember thinking anything at all, I just didn’t move. I must have known she was dying and I stood there and did nothing.’
Becca shifted her gaze then, to a place on the kitchen tiles by the door. That must have been where it happened.
‘And then she went still and I realized what I’d done. I panicked and tried to clear her mouth but she was already dead. I wanted to take it back so badly. I’ve wanted to every day since. But it was too late. Only then did I see the blood in her hair and thought I must have hurt her; for five years I’ve thought that. I didn’t know until two days ago that Andie had injured her head before with Mr Ward. That must be why she lost consciousness, why she was sick. Doesn’t matter, though. I was still the one who let her choke to death. I watched her die and did nothing. And because I’d thought it was me who hurt her head, and there were scratches on her arms from me, signs of a struggle, I knew everyone – even my parents – would think I’d meant to kill her. Because Andie was always so much better than me. My parents loved her more.’
‘You put her body in the boot of her car?’ Pip said, leaning forward to hold her head because it was too heavy.
‘The car was in the garage and I dragged her inside. I don’t know how I found the strength to do it. It’s all a blur now. I cleaned everything up; I’d watched enough documentaries. I knew which type of bleach you have to use.’
‘Then you left the house at just before 10:40 p.m.,’ said Pip. ‘It was you the CCTV picked up, driving Andie’s car up the high street. And you took her . . . I think you took her to that old farmhouse on Sycamore Road, the one you were writing an article about, because you didn’t want the neighbours to buy it and restore it. And you buried her there?’
‘She’s not buried,’ Becca sniffed. ‘She’s in the septic tank.’
Pip nodded gently, her fuzzy head grappling with Andie’s final fate. ‘Then you dumped her car and you walked home. Why did you leave it on Romer Close?’
‘When I looked through her second phone, I