Page 143 of Good Girl, Bad Blood

Pip:

Are you OK, Mr Reynolds?

Arthur:

No. I’m terrified. Terrified that the last thing I did was argue with my son. The last words I said to him were in anger. I never told him I loved him all that much, and I’m scared I’ll never get the chance again. Jamie came to me, asked me for my help and I sent him away.Life or death, that’s what Jamie said to your mum about the money, wasn’t it? And I said no to him. I’m his dad, he’s supposed to be able to turn to me for anything. He asked me for help and I said no. What if this whole thing is my fault? If I had only said yes to him, maybe . . . maybe . . .

Twenty-Eight

The trees shivered on Cross Lane, recoiling from Pip as she walked beneath them, chasing her morning shadow, never catching up to it.

She’d dropped Connor at school once everyone had calmed down, leaving her car there. But she hadn’t gone inside with him. Her mum had already called the school to say she’d be late, so she might as well make use of it. And it couldn’t be avoided any longer: she had to speak to Nat da Silva. At this point, all roads led back to her.

Even this one Pip was walking on.

Her eyes fixated on the painted blue front door as she stepped up the concrete path, following it as it bent to run alongside the house.

She took a breath to steel herself and pressed the bell in two short mechanical bursts. She waited, fidgeting nervously with her unbrushed hair, her heartbeat not yet back to normal.

A shape grew out of the frosted glass, blurred and slow as it approached the door.

It opened with a clack and Nat da Silva stood there, her white-blonde hair pushed back from her face, deep eyeliner streaks holding up her pale blue eyes.

‘Hello,’ Pip said, as brightly as she could.

‘Fuck sake,’ said Nat. ‘What do you want now?’

‘I need to ask you some things, about Jamie,’ she said.

‘Yeah, well I already told you everything I know. I don’t know where he is and he still hasn’t been in contact with me.’ Nat reached for the door to close it again.

‘They found a body,’ Pip blurted, trying to stop her. It worked. ‘It wasn’t Jamie, but it could have been. It’s been six days, Nat, without any contact. Jamie’s in real trouble. And you might be the person who knows him best. Please.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Not for me. I know you hate me and I understand why. But please help me, for the Reynoldses’ sake. I just came from their house, and for twenty minutes we all thought Jamie was dead.’

It was subtle, almost too subtle to notice, but there was a softening in Nat’s eyes. Something flickered across them, glassy and sad.

‘Do you . . .’ she said, slowly. ‘Do you really think he’s not OK?’