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‘Most kids don’t commit murder,’ says Jennie, disgusted that the last remaining members of the darkroom crew won’t own what they did, even now.
‘You’re right,’ says Elliott, raising his hands. ‘What we did was wicked, unforgivable. There’s not a day that’s gone by when I haven’t thought about it.’ He looks at Lottie and Simon. ‘… When we haven’t thought about it. We’ve kept the awful secret all these years and it’s destroyed us all, one way or another. Rob took his own life because the guilt slowly ate him up. Simon turned to drugs and crime to try and escape. It took me years to commit to a relationship, and I’ve never been able to be honest with my husband about my past. And Lottie’s been in therapy and on medication for her nerves since university. Surely we’ve paid enough of a price?’
‘I’ve got three kids who depend on me,’ says Lottie, her tone pleading. ‘Elliott’s about to have his first. If you take us in, they’ll be robbed of a parent.’
‘I’ve finally got my shit together,’ says Simon. ‘My charity does great things for people who need help to turn their lives around. If I go back to prison, it’ll all be screwed and far more lives will be ruined.’
Elliott moves towards her. He looks so sincere. ‘You’re one of us, Jennie. You know us. Our friendship binds us together and we’ve always had each other’s backs. What good will it serve to put us in prison? We’re not murderers. I know you know that. Rob left a note, didn’t he? He was willing to make that sacrifice.’
Jennie says nothing. She’s waited thirty years to learn the truth about what happened to Hannah, yet her so-called friends knew all along. They only told her when they had to, happy to keep her in the dark for all these years.
What do I do?
The blow that they are responsible feels like a roundhouse kick to the heart, and the fact Lottie blames her for causing the rift that led to Hannah’s death makes her feel physically sick. She used to care for each of them, especially Elliott. But how can Rob taking all the blame ever be justice?
She looks from Lottie to Simon and finally at Elliott. They killed Hannah and they left her rotting in a shallow grave. There’s nothing that can justify that.
‘Charlotte Varney, Simon Ackhurst and Elliott Naylor, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Hannah Jennings.’ Jennie’s voice is firm, and her words clear. ‘You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
There’s a creak as the basement door opens and Zuri, Naomi and Steve enter the darkroom. Elliott, Simon and Lottie don’t resist arrest. They look shell-shocked as the team cuff their hands behind their backs.
Jennie watches as it’s done and then, when she’s certain they’re secured, she turns away. She can’t let her colleagues see her cry.
Day Seven
Chapter 43
Jennie stands at the graveside.
She’s glad Paul Jennings chose to bury Hannah in the cemetery at Little Cross, a small village a quarter of a mile outside the main town. White Cross is tainted with the violence that ended Hannah’s life and the friends who betrayed her. This place has none of that gruesome history.
The stone and flint church sits nestled between the canal on one side and an organic farm on the other. It’s silent here now aside from the clucking of the chickens whose paddock borders the graveyard. The service is finished and the other mourners are long gone. Jennie stands alone, watching as the sun sinks slowly in the sky and finally lets herself grieve.
She remembers Hannah free and happy, twirling in the woodland; taking charge as her personal stylist when they went shopping for a new dress; rescuing her from the bullies when she first joined White Cross Academy. Hannah had really made her feel like she belonged. It was Hannah who encouraged her to follow her dream to be a photographer when no one else cared. She was the one who told Jennie that she’d got bags of talent and that it was her wonderful photos that got her the modelling gig in London. She’d always had faith in her.
Jennie knows now there were things about Hannah’s life that her friend had kept secret from her: the drug use, the secret parties, her affair with Duncan Edwards, and the physical violence her dad had inflicted. Teenage Jennie might not have forgiven her friend for keeping her in the dark on some elements of her life, but adult Jennie does. Relationships are complex. Secrets are often held.
Reaching out, Jennie puts her hand on the top of the simple wooden cross at the head of the grave, a placeholder until the earth has settled and the headstone can be laid. The wood is rough against her fingers. Her voice cracks as she tells Hannah, ‘I miss you.’
Lottie’s accusation that Jennie caused the rift that led to the fatal argument between her and Hannah has weighed heavily on her mind. Rationally, she knows she isn’t to blame for Hannah’s death, but there is a small kernel of truth in what Lottie said. Unwittingly, the plan they’d hatched to run away together had set in motion the events that led to Hannah’s murder. When Hannah had disappeared, Jennie felt as though part of her had died – the creative part – as well as the confidence to follow her dream. Jennie had got through those dark days, but she never left White Cross and never allowed herself to be the person she might have been. Stuck in limbo. In arrested development for thirty years. She’s never let her guard down. Never fully given herself to anyone or trusted a person with her heart for fear that they’ll suddenly disappear on her. She’s never allowed herself to be happy in case it jinxed things and she lost that happiness.
Now she knows Hannah really had been coming to the bus stop that night; she didn’t abandon her on purpose. She didn’t betray her. Hannah was stolen away by their so-called friends in heinous actions fuelled by jealousy and resentment.
Kneeling down, Jennie places the bouquet of white roses on the heaped dirt alongside the other floral tributes. She smiles as she thinks that Hannah probably would have preferred a new lipstick over all the flowers, but Jennie wants to give her something beautiful to mark her final resting place. She deserves that.
Jennie presses her hands against the earth, her tears flowing freely now, and whispers, ‘I’m sorry I doubted you.’
Chapter 44
At White Cross Police Station after hours, Jennie walks through the now empty office to the incident room. It’s weird being the only one here. The space, usually a hive of activity, is still and silent, eerie almost. But she knows the calm won’t last for long. This is just a momentary pause in the action. Soon another case will land and the hustle will begin again.
But first, there are things she needs to do.
One at a time, she removes the photos taped to the top of the whiteboard. First, the individual pictures of Rob, Simon, Lottie and Elliott, then the one she took of the darkroom crew sitting on the burgundy sofa. She pauses, looking at her old schoolfriends: Simon with his arm around Hannah; Lottie with her head resting on Hannah’s shoulder; Rob sitting on the arm of the sofa beside Lottie, his long, grey coat hanging over the side; Elliott, with his safety glasses still on, beside Simon. Each of them grinning. Who would have guessed from this picture that they’d have turned on each other, and killed Hannah, less than two weeks later?
Not me.
Jennie puts the pictures into the cardboard evidence box. Rob’s funeral is due to take place tomorrow, but Simon, Lottie and Elliott won’t be attending. The voice recorder on her phone had secretly recorded their confession. Zuri and the team had come straight to the school after receiving Jennie’s text; they’d heard the most incriminating part of the conversation too.
