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Has something happened? Did Hannah’s dad ground her? Has she got into an accident on the way here? Please don’t let her be hurt.
The bus is fifty yards away, then twenty.
Jennie feels as if she might be sick.
I can’t go back home. There’s no way. But I can’t leave without Hannah. We made each other a promise – the two of us together, always and forever.
Making a decision, Jennie steps out of the shelter with her hand up. The bus indicates and slows to a stop beside her.
Maybe Hannah got on at an earlier stop because of the rain?
The doors swing open and Jennie steps up into the bus. She scans the seats, looking for her friend. The bus is almost empty; there’s a loved-up couple snogging, a disapproving-looking middle-aged woman with a bedraggled-terrier on her lap, and a couple of blokes who look a bit worse for wear. Jennie’s heart sinks as she takes in the last few vacant seats at the back of the single-decker. Hannah’s not here.
This is wrong. It’s all going wrong. Where is she?
‘You staying or going, love?’ says the bus driver, a kindly-looking man in his fifties.
Jennie tries to swallow down her fear. She tastes bile on her tongue. ‘I … my friend was meant to be getting the bus too but she’s not here yet.’
The driver taps his fingers against the steering wheel. ‘Sorry, love. I’m on a schedule. Can’t wait all night.’
Should I go? Should I stay?
I can’t do this without Hannah. It’s meant to be our adventure.
‘I …’ Tears prick at Jennie’s eyes as she steps back down onto the pavement.
Why isn’t Hannah here?
Why didn’t she come like she promised?
The bus pulls away, leaving Jennie standing at the side of the road in the pouring rain.
Alone.
Day One
Chapter 1
This is a bad idea.
As she climbs the steep woodland trail towards the top of White Cross Hill, Jennie trips over a rogue tree root and curses her decision to come here. Dusk is morphing into night and the beam of her phone’s torch is doing a poor job of lighting the dirt path beneath the ancient oak, pine and silver birch trees. Their gnarled and twisted trunks loom up out of the darkness like woody spectres.
A dry branch snaps beneath her trainers and Jennie leaps forward, her heart pounding.
Get a grip. It’s just a twig.
Thirty years ago, she’d known this route like the back of her hand. These woods were once her favourite place to photograph, and the top of the hill, marked by the 85-foot-high white chalk cross, was party central for all the kids who went to White Cross Academy. Jennie shakes her head. It’s been thirty years since she took a proper photograph and it feels almost as long since she went to a party.
The summit’s not far and as she gets closer, Jennie hears Duran Duran’s ‘Ordinary World’ playing somewhere up ahead. Slowing her pace, she pushes the fringe of her shoulder-length black hair out of her eyes and smooths her T-shirt down over the waistband of her jeans. She hopes she looks at least half decent.
Reaching the edge of the treeline Jennie flinches as a sudden blast of laughter cuts through the darkness, causing the birds roosting in the tree above her to take flight. She can hear the sound of people talking now as well as the music. Her stomach flips and she wonders if it’s too late to back out.
She hates parties. Why the hell did she say yes to this one?
Nostalgia. Betrayal. Regret.
When she’d first seen Lottie Varney’s post on the Class of ’94 Facebook group she’d scrolled past, not wanting the memories of that time in her life to come flooding back. But something about learning that her old school was going to be demolished and a shiny new apartment block erected in its place stayed in her mind, even though she’d only attended the school for the last year of sixth form. After thirty-six hours, she’d searched for Lottie’s post – an invitation to an impromptu reunion up here where they’d partied as schoolkids – and marked herself as attending.
