Page 243 of A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

‘Max Hastings,’ said Pip.

‘And I thought,’ she cried, ‘I thought that now I knew, we would be able to fix everything and put it right. And I thought that when Andie got home, I’d tell her and she’d let me cry on her and tell me she was so sorry and that we, me and her, were going to set this right and make him pay. All I wanted was my big sister. And just the freedom of finally telling someone.’

Pip wiped her eyes, feeling shaky and drained.

‘And then Andie came home,’ Becca said.

‘With a head injury?’

‘No, I didn’t know that at the time,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see anything. She was just here, in the kitchen and I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to tell her. And –’ Becca’s voice broke – ‘when I did she just looked at me and said she didn’t care. I tried to explain and she wouldn’t listen. She just said I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone or I’d get her in trouble. She tried to leave the room and I stood in her way. Then she said I should be grateful that someone had actually wanted me, because I was just the fat, ugly version of her. And she tried to push me out of the way. I just couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t believe she could be so cruel. I pushed her back and tried to explain again and we were both shouting and shoving and then . . . it was so fast.

‘Andie fell back on the floor. I didn’t think I’d pushed her that hard. Her eyes were closed. And then she was being sick. It was all over her face and in her hair. And,’ Becca sobbed, ‘then her mouth was full and she was coughing and choking on it. And I . . . I just froze. I don’t know why, I was just so angry at her. When I look back now I don’t know whether I made any decision or not. I don’t remember thinking anything at all, I just didn’t move. I must have known she was dying and I stood there and did nothing.’

Becca shifted her gaze then, to a place on the kitchen tiles by the door. That must have been where it happened.

‘And then she went still and I realized what I’d done. I panicked and tried to clear her mouth but she was already dead. I wanted to take it back so badly. I’ve wanted to every day since. But it was too late. Only then did I see the blood in her hair and thought I must have hurt her; for five years I’ve thought that. I didn’t know until two days ago that Andie had injured her head before with Mr Ward. That must be why she lost consciousness, why she was sick. Doesn’t matter, though. I was still the one who let her choke to death. I watched her die and did nothing. And because I’d thought it was me who hurt her head, and there were scratches on her arms from me, signs of a struggle, I knew everyone – even my parents – would think I’d meant to kill her. Because Andie was always so much better than me. My parents loved her more.’

‘You put her body in the boot of her car?’ Pip said, leaning forward to hold her head because it was too heavy.

‘The car was in the garage and I dragged her inside. I don’t know how I found the strength to do it. It’s all a blur now. I cleaned everything up; I’d watched enough documentaries. I knew which type of bleach you have to use.’

‘Then you left the house at just before 10:40 p.m.,’ said Pip. ‘It was you the CCTV picked up, driving Andie’s car up the high street. And you took her . . . I think you took her to that old farmhouse on Sycamore Road, the one you were writing an article about, because you didn’t want the neighbours to buy it and restore it. And you buried her there?’

‘She’s not buried,’ Becca sniffed. ‘She’s in the septic tank.’

Pip nodded gently, her fuzzy head grappling with Andie’s final fate. ‘Then you dumped her car and you walked home. Why did you leave it on Romer Close?’

‘When I looked through her second phone, I saw that that was where her dealer lived. I thought if I left the car there, the police would make the connection and he’d be the main suspect.’

‘What must you have thought when suddenly Sal was the guilty one and it was all over?’

Becca shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I thought maybe it was some kind of sign, that I’d been forgiven. Though I’ve never forgiven myself.’

‘And then,’ Pip said, ‘five years later, I start digging. You got my number from Stanley’s phone, from when I interviewed him.’

‘He told me some kid was doing a project, thinking Sal was innocent. I panicked. I thought that if you proved his innocence, I’d need to find another suspect. I’d kept Andie’s burner phone and I knew she was having a secret relationship; there were some texts to a contact namedEabout meeting up at this hotel, the Ivy House. So I went there to see if I could find out who this man was. I didn’t get anywhere, the old woman who owned it was very confused. Then weeks later I saw you hanging round the station car park and I knew that’s where Andie’s dealer worked. I watched you, and as you followed him I followed you. I saw you go to his house with Sal’s brother. I just wanted to make you stop.’

‘That’s when you first texted me,’ Pip said. ‘But I didn’t stop. And when I came to talk to you at your office, you must have thought I was so close to figuring out it was you, talking about the burner phone and Max Hastings. So you killed my dog and made me destroy all my research.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She looked down. ‘I didn’t mean for your dog to die. I let him go, I really did. But it was dark; he must have got confused and fallen in the river.’

Pip’s breath stuttered. But accident or not, it wouldn’t bring Barney back.

‘I loved him so much,’ Pip said, feeling dizzy, unjoining from herself. ‘But I choose to forgive you. That’s why I came here, Becca. If I’ve worked all this out, the police won’t be far behind me, not now they’ve reopened the case. And Mr Ward’s story starts to poke holes in yours.’ She spoke fast, slurring, her tongue tripping up over the words. ‘It’s not right what you did, Becca, letting her die. I know you know that. But it’s also not fair what happened to you. You didn’t ask for any of this. And the law lacks compassion. I came to warn you. You need to leave, get out of the country and find a life for yourself somewhere. Because they will be coming for you soon.’

Pip looked at her. Becca must have been talking, but suddenly all the sound in the world disappeared, there was just the buzz of a beetle’s wings trapped inside her head. The table was mutating and fizzing between them and some ghost-drawn weight started to drag down Pip’s eyelids.

‘I-I . . .’ she stuttered. The world dimmed, the only bright thing was the empty mug in front of her, wavering, its colours dripping up into the air. ‘You put somethi– My drink?’

‘There were a few of Max’s pills left in Andie’s hiding place. I kept them.’

Becca’s voice came to Pip loud and garish, a shrieking clown-laugh echo, switching from ear to ear.

Pip pushed up from her chair but her left leg was too weak. It gave out under her and she crashed into the kitchen island. Something smashed and the pieces were flying around like jagged clouds and up and up as the world spun around her.

The room lurched and Pip stumbled over to the sink, leaned into it and rammed her fingers down her throat. She vomited, and it was dark brown and stinging and she vomited again. A voice came to her from somewhere near and somewhere far.

‘I’ll work something out, I have to. There’s no evidence. There’s just you and what you know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?’