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There’s a brief silence. Lottie shoots a glance at Elliott.
‘This is bullshit,’ rants Simon, his cheeks turning puce. ‘Those photos were taken before Hannah disappeared. They prove nothing. This is a waste of time …’
You’re right,’ says Jennie, resisting the urge to yell back at Simon. ‘Those pictures were taken earlier in the week that Hannah went missing.’
‘So you don’t have proof?’ says Elliott, cautiously. Seemingly unaware of the implication of his words.
I do now.
‘It must have been a good party, because you did it again three days later. And you were all here.’
Lottie’s shaking her head.
Simon swears loudly.
‘What do you mean?’ asks Elliott. ‘We weren’t—’
Jennie keeps talking, ignoring their protests. ‘In his statement, Rob told us he had been watching Four Weddings and a Funeral that evening, but there was no sign of the ticket stub he said he’d given to the original misper investigation as proof,’ says Jennie, assertively. ‘I doubted he’d have seen that film again, because he didn’t think much of it when we watched it as a group the week before. So we dug a bit deeper. Turns out the cinema had projector issues that day and was forced to close. So Rob’s alibi was fake.’
Lottie nods. ‘Well, yes, that’s—’
‘Simon told us he was at work,’ says Jennie, interrupting Lottie. ‘But EDT Logistics confirmed he didn’t show up that night and had his wages docked. Elliott said he was here in the basement darkroom, but although he claimed to have seen Paul Jennings and that he left him here with Hannah, I don’t believe that’s true. And you, Lottie, were allegedly at the youth club disco in Farnby Square, but I know you weren’t because I was there. Like me, none of the people I’ve spoken to who were there that night saw you.’
‘It’s true,’ says Lottie, her voice smaller, shakier now. ‘We did meet up a few times without you.’
Elliott shoots Lottie a warning look.
Simon grimaces. ‘So bloody what? It’s a free country.’
‘We need to tell her the truth,’ says Lottie. She meets Jennie’s gaze. ‘You’re right, we were there on the night Hannah died.’
Simon shakes his head. Swears under his breath.
Emotion builds in Jennie’s chest. She blinks rapidly. Needs to stay focused. Fighting to contain her fury as she asks, ‘What happened?’
‘It was just a party, a few drinks and a bit of weed. At first, anyway,’ says Lottie, hesitantly. Her eyes start to tear up. ‘But Hannah was so wild. And Rob always did encourage her, always wanting to push the boundaries. That night they were out of control. Rob kept on saying it was our “big bang” before the exams started. He said it was going to be the best night of our lives.’
Lottie pauses. Elliott is shifting his weight from foot to foot. Simon looks ready to punch someone.
Her voice gentle, Jennie asks, ‘Was it?’
Lottie looks away. Her eyes fill with tears and she shakes her head, sadly. She puts her hand against her chest and takes a couple of breaths. Then she looks back at Jennie. ‘Hannah had taken a load of stuff – pills, weed – then her and Rob chased the dragon. Hannah had this scarf tight around her neck. Rob was banging on about how you could reach a better high if you limited your oxygen. The rest of us were drunk and high, not really paying attention to what they were doing. But whatever did happen, their game went horribly wrong. One minute they were dancing around like wild things, the next Hannah fell and the scarf got caught … Her neck was snapped instantly.’
Jennie’s heart races as she pictures the scene. Her best friend, so vital and alive, having the life snuffed out from her so suddenly.
Elliott looks ashen. ‘It was horrific.’
‘I told her not to be so reckless,’ says Simon, his rage barely contained. ‘But Rob always encouraged her to be a daredevil. She didn’t bloody listen to me and it killed her.’
There’s a clanging noise overhead. The four of them flinch, and look up.
‘It must be the old pipes,’ says Jennie. It has to be that; there’s no one else around. Down here in this dank and derelict basement, they are completely isolated. The thought makes her feel suddenly vulnerable. If things turn bad, it’s three against one; those aren’t good odds. Careful to keep her tone sympathetic, she asks, ‘What did you do next?’
‘Rob was crying, howling, he couldn’t believe what had happened and he felt responsible,’ says Elliott, his tone solemn. ‘Hannah was dead, there was no bringing her back.’
‘We helped Rob bury her,’ says Lottie. She shudders. ‘It was awful, putting her into that muddy trench …’
‘That bastard pretty much forced us to help him,’ says Simon, the fury clear in his voice. ‘I told him we should call the police, tell them it was an accident, but no, he wouldn’t have it.’
