verbatim. ‘Then the police talked to all of us and it seemed like they’d made their minds up about Mike, because he’d been seen with her.’
Victoria traced absent-minded circles around her coffee cup. ‘Martha was an only child,’ she said. ‘I suppose that’s why her parents spoiled her a little. They were just broken when she died. It ruined them.’
It had ruined a lot of things, her death. And yet the six of us had managed to walk away unscathed. Or so I’d thought. ‘It was so awful.’
She frowned at me. ‘You saw Mike after he left her in the garden?’
After so many years, it came smoothly into my mouth. ‘Yes – he said she was fine then. It was just – bad luck. Wrong place wrong time.’
Her frown deepened. ‘Worse for Martha.’ I wondered if I hadn’t played it right after all, if I’d made things even worse.
‘Of course.’ I set my cup down, leaned forward earnestly. ‘Victoria, I think about Martha all the time. I know we weren’t that close, but she was so lovely, so pretty. But I’m just trying to help my husband. None of it was his fault.’ But was it, was it? Could I be so sure now? I held her gaze, steady.
‘What do you want from me?’
‘Oh, nothing. Just giving you a heads-up, in case the police start looking into it again. I didn’t think the college would be happy.’ It would be bad for them too, to have it all dredged up again, the death of a student within its walls, the suspicion that another student had strangled her, left her spread out on the cool green lawn with her white silk dress torn and rumpled, her skin even paler than the fabric. No one needed that image in their minds. Martha was dead, and that was a tragedy, but there was nothing we could do about it now.
Victoria nodded, and although I knew now we’d never be cordial again, I also knew I’d got what I came for. ‘Of course not. I’ll just tell them what I did back then. That she was drunk, and Mike took her to sit down.’
It’s funny how, at times like this, words take on so much weight. How many I’ve spilled over the years, careless, like pocket change, but in the two times in my life where I’ve been close to a crime, every one is like a landmine. Victoria had said, I did see her with Mike. Mike had never told me Victoria saw him with Martha. The way he’d described it, he’d just left her in the garden then gone right away. Helping her out. Not lingering in a dark, perfumed garden with the most beautiful girl in our year, drunk and willing.
My taxi reached the train station, having passed so many familiar landmarks it made my heart ache, and I climbed the steps. It was then that I finally thought to take out my phone, and there they were: three missed calls from Cassie’s school.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘I don’t understand,’ I said once again. ‘How can you suspend her when it’s not her fault?’
Cassie was outside the office of the deputy head, Miss Hall, in the waiting area. I could hear her ragged sobs through the walls. They were different from the ones she’d cried when her father was stabbed. More broken. Like she’d given up already. A crying jag, my mother used to call it.
‘We believe she sent the image to Aaron. And unfortunately it seems a few other boys were – exposed to it.’ As if Cassie was at fault, contaminating them. Miss Hall was a sporty, inscrutable type, wearing a grey trouser suit. I saw a cross peep out from around her neck. What must she think of us?
‘So what? It’s of her, she’s entitled to if she wants.’ I was trying to sound reasonable, sex-positive and forward-thinking, as if I truly believed in the right of my fifteen-year-old daughter to photograph herself topless, her bra and vest top huddled shamefully around her waist, and send it to her boyfriend.
‘Technically, Mrs Morris, it’s illegal to send sexual images of anyone under eighteen.’
‘Even of herself?’
‘Even of herself, yes.’
‘So let me get this straight. It’s not illegal for these boys to share a picture of her . . .’ My vision popped around the edges, thinking of them, those disgusting animals, walking tubes of semen and sweat, scrolling their fat dirty fingers over their phone screens. Leaving smears on her face. ‘. .