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‘Don’t bloody thank me. I’m going to be watching every move you make,’ Campbell continues, firmly. ‘Everything has to come through me from now on, you understand – everything.’
As she leaves the DCI’s office Jennie tries not to show how shaken she’s feeling. That was far too close for comfort and there’s no doubt she’s trashed her relationship with Campbell. She replays the interview with Lottie Varney in her mind. Lottie dropped the bomb about Jennie taking the photograph of the darkroom crew, and then tilted her head to the side and smiled so sweetly, as if she was clueless about what she was doing. But something seems off. The sweetness and cluelessness could be bullshit, a smokescreen to make it appear that Lottie had outed her by accident. Jennie remembers the barbed words Lottie used to describe her: she was almost like one of us.
Bitch.
She had been one of them. She’d been more of one of them than Lottie by the end of term, too. Had Lottie held a grudge about that all these years? Had she blamed Jennie for encouraging Hannah’s modelling ambitions? Was she harbouring resentment that Hannah had become Jennie’s best friend rather than hers? Could it be true that Lottie was so devastated about Hannah wanting to move to London that she’d have done anything to stop her?
It’s possible. Maybe. Jealousy is a powerful motivator, and Jennie’s certainly investigated previous cases motivated by it. But would Lottie really have been capable of hurting Hannah? Lottie’s tiny, petite; she couldn’t hurt a fly, could she? It seems impossible that she could have snapped someone’s neck.
As she reaches her desk and sits down, Jennie remembers something else. Back in early 1994, several months before they went on study leave, the darkroom crew were playing spin the bottle on a rainy Friday afternoon after school. Rob smuggled some Thunderbird into the basement under his prized Flatliners coat and declared they all had to have a drink.
Jennie hadn’t really had much alcohol before; watching her mum’s drinking had put her off. But she bowed to peer pressure that afternoon and gulped down half a beaker of the disgusting stuff as Hannah, Rob and Simon chanted, ‘Drink, drink, drink!’
She felt weird pretty fast; warmer than usual, with her head all woozy. Sitting in a circle with her friends, with the bottle in the centre, everything seemed heightened: the burgundy of the sofa seemed richer, the overhead lights brighter, the smell of the alcohol and the closeness of Hannah beside her more intoxicating. They played a few spins of the bottle before it happened. Simon had to take off his trousers and wear them on his head. Lottie had to tell them if she’d ever shoplifted, and she told them about the time she stole a pair of sandals from the local River Island. Next spin, when the bottle pointed to Hannah, she chose a dare.
‘Kiss someone for ten seconds,’ says Rob, with a wolfish smile. ‘Tongues are compulsory.’
A whoop goes up from the group. Lottie claps her hands together. Simon smiles rather smugly and leans across the middle of the circle, waiting for Hannah to kiss him.
She doesn’t. Instead, Hannah turns to her left, to Jennie who is sitting beside her.
Jennie stares at her. Frowns.
‘Hey,’ says Hannah.
The group has fallen silent now.
Jennie isn’t sure what’s going on. Hannah’s face is a bit fuzzy, as if someone’s taken an eraser and rubbed gently around her edges. ‘What’s the—’
Hannah presses her mouth against Jennie’s. Jennie freezes. Her lips stay closed. She doesn’t know how to react. How to feel.
Undeterred, Hannah slips her arms around Jennie and pulls her closer. Jennie feels Hannah’s fingers on the back of her neck. Hannah’s tongue pushing between her lips. She yields to the pressure, opening her mouth a little, and Hannah’s tongue is in her mouth.
The others cheer. Someone slaps Jennie on her back.
‘You can stop, you’ve done ten seconds already,’ says Lottie, somewhere behind her.
Rob and Simon tell Lottie to shut up.
Hannah doesn’t stop. They’re full-on snogging now. Proper tongue action. Jennie’s never snogged anyone before. It’s warm, and soft, and fuzzy, and weird.
And amazing.
It feels like forever and too soon when Hannah draws back, kissing Jennie on the tip of her nose as she releases her. ‘You taste like strawberry,’ murmurs Jennie, touching her fingers to her lips. Still reeling from what’s just happened.
‘You taste like Thunderbird,’ says Hannah with a smile.
Rob lets out a long whistle. ‘That was well hot,’ he says, high-fiving Simon.
Hannah laughs. ‘I thought you boys might like the show.’
‘Just don’t forget what a man tastes like,’ says Simon, lunging across the circle to kiss Hannah, the bulge of his erection straining at his jeans.
Elliott catches her eye and gives a rueful shake of his head. Jennie shrugs as if to say, What could I do?
Rob starts campaigning for them to do it again, chanting and clapping. ‘Snog. Snog. Snog.’
Jennie looks at Hannah and she’s laughing. She pulls Jennie to her in a hug and that’s the moment Jennie’s gaze meets Lottie’s.
