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‘I’m holding up, but it’s hard, you know?’ Lottie’s voice cracks a little. She walks closer to Jennie. ‘It’s been the worst week ever. First Hannah, then dear Rob. I’d only been talking to him an hour or so earlier. He came here especially from London to support my vigil for Hannah and then … that happened, it’s just too awful. I can’t help but feel responsible.’
Typical Lottie. Making it about her.
‘It was a shock,’ says Jennie, nodding.
‘And you found him. That must have been horrific.’ Lottie looks as if she might cry. ‘I don’t understand why he didn’t reach out to one of us. Elliott, Simon and I were all there at the vigil, we would have supported him if he’d just told us he was struggling …’
Jennie hardens her heart to the barbed dig. She’s learnt from what she’s uncovered during the investigation that she was never really a full member of their group. Lottie rubbing it in now isn’t going to divert her from the real purpose of this meeting.
‘I know Rob had been having a few troubles in his work but surely it would all have been sorted out soon enough,’ continues Lottie, gabbling on. ‘But I suppose a job like his was very high-pressure and not everyone is equipped to handle the stresses of something like that, are they? I just hate to think of him alone in those final moments, so lost. It’s just tragic. And to think he’d been holding onto all that guilt about Hannah for so many years. It must have just eaten away at him. It’s just so … I guess you can never really know a person, can you?’
Jennie can see how Lottie is trying to frame this, but she doesn’t want to go there just yet. Not until it’s time. So she nods. Keeps her expression and tone sympathetic. ‘It’s tragic. Like I said in my message, I do need to clarify some points of evidence with you, if that’s okay?’
Lottie nods vigorously. ‘Of course, Jennie. As I said before, anything I can do to help dear Hannah.’
There’s a noise from the hallway and Lottie jumps. The door creaks open.
‘Oh my God, what’s that …?’ Wide-eyed and fearful, Lottie moves behind Jennie.
‘Hello?’ says Elliott, poking his head around the door before pulling it wider to reveal himself and Simon standing in the corridor.
‘What the hell are they doing here?’ says Lottie, her fear turning to irritation. She looks at Jennie accusingly. ‘You didn’t say we’d have company.’
‘I thought a reunion might be helpful,’ says Jennie, giving a small shrug. Forcing a smile, she gestures for Elliott and Simon to come in. ‘It’s good to see you both again.’
Unlike Lottie, Jennie is glad they’ve arrived promptly. She needs to get this done. In an hour or so, the DCI will release the statement to the press that they’ve closed the case, naming Robert Marwood as the killer. If she’s going to get to the truth, it has to be now.
‘What is this? Why are we all here?’ says Simon, suspicious.
‘I thought we needed a private conversation so we could speak freely,’ says Jennie, injecting as much warmth into her voice as she can muster. ‘Just us, here in the darkroom. Like old times.’
Simon, still wary, looks from her to Elliott and Lottie. None of them speak. Lottie bites her lower lip.
Elliott clasps his hands together. In a friendly tone at odds with his rigid posture, he says, ‘Sounds good. How can we help?’
This is the moment. Jennie inhales. She makes eye contact with each of her old schoolfriends in turn. ‘I have proof you were all here with Hannah on the night she died.’
Lottie’s mouth opens in surprise, the rest of her body stays immobile.
‘What are you talking about?’ says Elliott, wringing his hands together awkwardly.
‘This is ridiculous.’ Simon flushes red. ‘I’m not staying here to be accused of this—’
‘If we were here, don’t you think you’d have been with us?’ says Elliott, with a rueful look. ‘Rob and Hannah might have met up here together to do drugs, but the rest of us only ever hung out together, you know that.’ Stepping closer to Jennie, he looks at her with those kind blue eyes that had always made her melt, and puts his hand on her arm. ‘You were one of us.’
No, I wasn’t.
It kills her that Elliott can look so sincere as he lies to her face.
‘I have proof.’ Removing the photos from her pocket she unfolds them and lays them out one by one on the table where they used to process negatives. Hannah preening for the camera, Rob’s shirtless image reflected in her mirrored shades; Thunderbird, vodka, pills and foil packets littered across a small table; Simon in a headband leaning over Lottie pouring vodka into her mouth as she lies on the sofa, while Elliott develops pictures and Hannah dances with a manic look on her face. ‘I know now that you all used to party without me.’
‘It doesn’t mean we had anything to do with Hannah’s death,’ says Elliott, squeezing her arm.
Simon shrugs. ‘That party was a one-off. You were busy or whatever.’
‘Rob organised it,’ says Lottie, her voice whining, nervous now. ‘We honestly didn’t realise he hadn’t told you.’
Jennie shakes her head. ‘You’re lying. Just like you lied in your police statements about what really happened to Hannah.’
