Page 177 of Good Girl, Bad Blood

‘Scum!’

She dropped Ravi’s hand and she was gone.

‘No, Pip!’ Ravi tried to hold on to her but she slipped out of his grasp and away, pounding up the grass. Her mum was calling her name, but that wasn’t her right now. Her teeth bared as she flew down the pathway, her black dress flailing behind her knees as she took on the wind. Her eyes flickered across their signs painted in red, dripping letters:

Killer Spawn

Monster of Little Kilton

Charlie Green = HERO

Child Brunswick Rot in Hell

Not in OUR town!

Her dad looked back and tried to catch her as she passed but she was too fast, and that burning inside her too strong.

She collided into the group, shoving Leslie hard, her cardboard sign clattering to the floor.

‘He’s dead!’ she screamed at them all, pushing them back. ‘Leave him alone, he’s dead!’

‘He shouldn’t be buried here. This isourtown,’ Mary said, pushing her sign towards Pip, blocking her sight.

‘He was your friend!’ Pip snatched the sign out of Mary’s hands. ‘He was your friend!’ she roared, bringing the poster board down with all her strength against her knee. It broke cleanly in two and she threw the pieces at Mary. ‘LEAVE HIM ALONE!’

She started towards Mr Lowe, who flinched away from her. But she didn’t make it. Her dad had grabbed her from behind, pulled her arms back. Pip reeled up against him, her feet kicking out towards them, but they were all backing away from her. Something new on their faces. Fear maybe, as she was dragged away.

Her eyes blurred with angry tears as she looked up, arms locked behind her, her dad’s calming voice in her ear. The sky was a pale and creamy blue, pockets of soft clouds floating across. A pretty sky for today. Stanley would have liked that, she thought, as she screamed up into it.

SATURDAY

6 DAYS LATER

Forty-Three

The sun climbed up her legs in leaf-like patches, reaching through the tall willow tree in the Reynoldses’ garden.

The day was warm, but the stone step she sat on was cool through the back of her new jeans. Pip blinked against the shifting beams of light, watching them all.

A get-together, Joanna Reynolds’ message had read, but Jamie joked it was aSurprise, I’m not deadbarbecue. Pip had found that funny. She hadn’t found much funny the last few weeks, but that had done it.

The dads were hovering around the barbecue, and Pip could see her dad was eyeing the unflipped burgers, itching to take over from Arthur Reynolds. Mohan Singh was laughing, tilting his head back to drink his beer, the sunlight making the bottle glow.

Joanna was leaning over the picnic table nearby, removing cling film from the tops of bowls: pasta salad and potato salad and actual salad. Dropping serving spoons into each one. On the other side of the garden, Cara stood talking with Ravi, Connor and Zach. Ravi was intermittently kicking a tennis ball, for Josh to chase.

Pip watched her brother, whooping as he cartwheeled after the ball. A smile on his face that was pure and unknowing. Ten years old, the same age Child Brunswick was when . . . Stanley’s dying face flashed into her mind. Pip screwed her eyes shut, but that never took him away. She breathed, three deep breaths, like her mum told her to do, and re-opened them. She shifted her gaze and took a shaky sip of water, her hand sweating against the glass.

Nisha Singh and Pip’s mum were standing with Naomi Ward, Nat da Silva and Zoe Reynolds, words unheard passing from one to another, smiles following along behind them. It was nice to see Nat smiling, Pip thought. It changed her, somehow.

And Jamie Reynolds, he was walking towards her, wrinkling his freckled nose. He sat down on the step beside her, his knee grazing hers as he settled.

‘How are you doing?’ he asked, running his finger over the rim of his beer bottle.

Pip didn’t answer the question. ‘How are you?’ she said, instead.

‘I’m good.’ Jamie looked at her, a smile stretching into his pink-tinged cheeks. ‘Good but . . . I can’t stop thinking about him.’ The smile flickered out.

‘I know,’ said Pip.