Killing Rachel (14 page)

Then she took a deep breath. It would be unfair to do that. Joshua had come to explore the areas on his father’s map. It was important to him. He had sounded excited in his emails. She would only drag him back before he’d found whatever it was he was looking for. In any case, she’d said she would speak to the police. In less than twenty-four hours’ time she would be done with the school and on her way home.

She quickened her step.

Nearing the main building she saw groups of girls out of uniform walking or running across the grounds. It was Saturday afternoon. There was always a variety of sports activities, choir, music practice and drama clubs. As well as that, it was time to just run off and explore the grounds and find somewhere private to be away from the building and the kindly but prying eyes of the housemistresses. She got as far as the quad and stopped. It was 2.30. The police were due in school at three to speak to some of the staff and the girls. She was hot after the walk so she decided to sit for a while rather than go back up to her room.

She looked idly round at the groups of girls. A great guffaw of laughter erupted from a group of younger girls in jeans and brightly coloured sleeveless puffa jackets. She looked down at her own clothes. White sweatshirt, black trousers, grey coat. Tim Baker had thought her dull, uninteresting.
You don’t look like the sort of girl who . . .
What did he mean? Not the sort of girl who likes boys? Who boys like? Not
easy-going
?

Did she care?

She would certainly never be interested in anyone like Tim Baker. Puffed-up and arrogant, he reminded her of some of the boys at her college in London. They walked around looking at their own reflections in shop windows, constantly aware of their own ability to attract girls. Joshua wasn’t like that. He seemed completely unselfconscious. Uninterested in how he looked or seemed to other people. He was attractive, she knew that. The girl, Clara, came into her head and she felt a moment’s anguish. Clara who had visited the flat and gone along with Joshua when he went to the Russian cafe in South Kensington. Was she his girlfriend?

Don’t think about it, Rose!
she said to herself.

She looked up at the school building, her eyes inevitably drawn to the top floor and the window of her old room. Then she looked along at the room next door, Rachel’s room. There was a face looking out.

It startled her. She sat upright and stared at it. It was a girl looking out at the grounds. She remembered Rachel’s letter and how she had described seeing the face of Juliet Baker in her room. Rachel thought she had seen a ghost.

Who was it? Why was this person in Rachel’s room?

She stood up and walked purposefully towards the entrance of the building.

This was no ghost but Rose wanted to know who it was.

FOURTEEN

‘What are you doing in here?’ Rose said.

The door to Rachel’s room was open. A girl spun round and stared at her. She had short hair, tightly cut. She looked familiar and it took a few seconds for Rose to recognise her.

‘Tania!’ she said.

It was Tania Miller, the girl from Brontë House who Rachel had had an on-off friendship with.

‘Sorry, I didn’t recognise you . . .’

Tania looked so different. Her glossy hair had gone and now her face was rounder and her mouth seemed fuller. The hair that Rose had admired had dominated her face and now she just looked fresher, nicer somehow.

‘I like the hair.’

Tania shrugged. ‘When did you turn up?’

‘Yesterday. I came because . . . Well, I heard about Rachel.’

The mention of Rachel’s name made Tania flinch. Rose looked awkwardly around the room.

‘I just came up for a look . . .’ Tania said, answering the unasked question. ‘I was just curious. Turns out it’s just an empty room.’

Rose nodded. Tania seemed about to say something then shook her head.

‘I’m sorry for her,’ Rose said. ‘You know we’d stopped being friends but I wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to her.’

Tania nodded. She seemed on the brink of tears.

‘But you and she, you were friends in Brontë and afterwards.’

‘On and off.’

‘That’s how it was with Rachel. On and off.’

Tania managed a smile but her lips looked strained.

‘I’ll see you round,’ she said and walked past Rose and out of Rachel’s room.

Rose went to follow her but then changed her mind. She stepped into Rachel’s room and closed the door behind her. She sat on the end of the bed and looked around. There was nothing of Rachel’s left in there. The bed was stripped and all the paraphernalia of a teenage girl had been packed away.

Who had done this, she wondered. One of the cleaning staff or maybe Martha Harewood? She pictured the housemistress for a second, moving quietly around Rachel’s room, folding up clothes, covering pictures and ornaments with bubble wrap, tidying up toiletries into a box or bag. Books would have gone in one of the sturdy cardboard boxes that the girls were given at the end of every summer term. Everything had to be cleared to allow the room to be cleaned thoroughly for the new term.

Where were Rachel’s things? In the basement? Locked away in some cupboard? Rose sighed. How different the room was without the posters and books and ornaments that Rachel had. It looked naked, empty; as if it had been robbed.

Rose had loved to spend time in Rachel’s room. In the early days they had spent a part of every evening in there. It was a place to read bits of books out loud, to listen to music, to use the laptops side by side.

Often they would talk about important things. This was where Rose first told Rachel about her mother’s job, how she and Brendan Johnson met while working in the same police sector. How they followed up cold cases to see if they could find clues that would catch the criminals. She told her that this was most probably the reason that they were killed. She showed Rachel the photos she had of her mother and Rachel gasped. ‘She’s really young-looking! She’s so pretty!’

Rachel described her father’s new house and told her how Melissa had fitted out a room for her to stay in whenever she visited.
Melissa’s a pain but she likes me! What can I do? I don’t tell my mum about it
. She also talked about her mum’s boyfriend, Robert.
He put his hand on my leg under the dinner table
.
My mum was next to me, talking. I got up and said I didn’t feel like eating my dinner!
Rose was appalled.
You have to tell someone!
But Rachel shook her head.
I can’t hurt my mum’s feelings. I have to put up with it
.

When they’d exhausted all subjects they’d lie on the single bed, Rose up one end, Rachel at the other, and listen to music.

Then there were the Nails.

Rachel had an array of varnishes and equipment for manicure and pedicure. She did Rose’s nails on a Friday night as nail varnish and some make-up was allowed over the weekend. She would make Rose sit in front of her with her hands resting on a pillow. She would lift each hand and massage it and shape each nail before painting it violet or turquoise or even black. During the week it was the toenails, easy to hide under socks and shoes. Rose loved the ritual. She felt the warmth of her friend’s hands massaging her skin or pulling at her fingers, using cuticle creams and nail files. They gossiped and it seemed different sitting face to face instead of slouching around the school or whispering in corners. As if they were all grown-up, not schoolgirls at all.

Rose liked it when Rachel fussed over her.

But after the half-term argument things changed. Time in Rachel’s room was limited and it only ever happened if Rachel wanted it. After Rachel replied to her letter and said they would be friends again, Rose had to wait for an invitation to go into her room. Sometimes it came and sometimes it didn’t. Rose would lie on her bed late at night and wonder what Rachel was doing. Once or twice she heard low voices and went across to the wall to listen. She was sure that Rachel had Tania Miller in there even though it was against the rules for people from other Houses to visit after nine. There were whispers and giggles and Rose felt her throat dry as paper as she imagined Rachel and Tania in there; maybe Tania sitting facing Rachel while Rachel picked up her hand and did each nail carefully, rubbing lotion around the cuticles.

Then, one day, it all changed.

Rose went down to the refectory and saw Rachel on her own. She carried her tray over and sat down beside her, surprised to see her looking upset.

‘What’s up?’ she said. ‘Where’s Tania?’

‘We’re not friends any more.’

‘Oh.’

Rachel shrugged. ‘She’s a silly cow. I don’t know why I bothered with her.’

Rose didn’t know what to say. Inside she felt a spurt of delight. She wanted to smile, to go and sit next to Rachel and put her arm around her shoulder, to comfort and be the best of friends again but she sensed that this was the wrong thing to do so she finished her food slowly.

‘Cheer up. I’ll catch you later,’ she said, taking her tray and heading away.

Leaving the refectory she couldn’t stop herself smiling. That night, just after eight, she got a text from Rachel.
Come next door and listen to my new CD
. Rose waited five whole minutes before sending a reply.
Just finishing some work. See in you half an hour???
Thirty long minutes later she got up and went next door. Rachel was sitting cross-legged on the floor and patted the cushion next to her.

They were friends again.

Rose went to see the policewoman.

She introduced herself as WPC Lauren Clarke. The interview was in a conference room which was linked to Mrs Abbott’s office. The head teacher left them alone and there was a few moments’ quiet. The letters from Rachel were on the table between them. Each of them was in a plastic envelope. The WPC was reading over the letters.

‘So, you were close friends with Rachel Bliss?’

‘Well,’ Rose said, blowing through her teeth, ‘for about a year and then we weren’t. That’s why I did nothing when I got these letters.’

‘You didn’t see them as a cry for help?’

‘Not at first. At first I was annoyed by them but when they kept coming I asked my grandmother to ring the school. Particularly after Rachel phoned me and left messages. I knew there was something up with her. I mean she was always a bit dramatic but this . . .’

Rose gestured to the letters. The policewoman gave her a smile and then glanced across to a BlackBerry that was on the table beside her. She read something there, then turned back to Rose.

‘These references to Juliet Baker. What did you make of that?’

Rose shrugged. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She had brought the letters to the school as evidence of something but she, herself, hadn’t spoken to or set eyes on Rachel for five months. What was the point of asking her anything?

‘I didn’t really think anything of it. Rachel has – or had – a wild imagination. I just assumed it was something she was saying to . . .’

‘You mean she was making it up?’

‘Possibly. She did make things up when I was her friend.’

The policewoman nodded. She picked up her BlackBerry and frowned at it. Rose had the feeling that she was about to leave.

‘Can I ask you how she died? Was it an accident?’

‘It will be up to the inquest to determine that . . .’

‘The girls are saying that there was alcohol. Was there anyone else involved?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t say. It’s confidential. The inquest will . . .’

‘I’ve come all the way from London to bring those letters,’ Rose said. ‘And I know you can’t tell me anything for certain. I know you’re not allowed to. My mother was a police officer so I know how it works but can’t you tell me just off the record? I’m not going to say anything to anyone. I’m going back home tomorrow.’

‘Your mother was a police officer?’

‘Yes. She worked in Cold Cases.’

‘Where? Round here? Might I have met her?’

‘She disappeared five years ago,’ Rose said, shaking her head. ‘The police have told me that she is most probably dead.’

‘Oh, that’s awful. I don’t know what to say. That’s dreadful.’

‘It was five years ago.’

‘Still.’

‘I know you can’t give out information but I’m not a student here.’

‘We are meant to keep information out of the public domain.’

‘Off the record.’

‘Well . . .’

‘I won’t tell anyone.’

She seemed to think about it for a minute.

‘Preliminary reports suggest that she had been dead for about six to seven hours when she was found. We’ll know more after the autopsy this evening. There were suggestions of alcohol at the scene. It could have been an accident. A teenage girl who drinks too much and falls into the water. We get cases like this from time to time but they’re usually in the summer months.’