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exactly what her mother had said before Becca had grabbed her coat and said she was going out. Somehow it sounded more reasonable coming from Aiden.
    ‘Okay,’ she said, eventually. Reluctantly. ‘Okay, maybe we should go.’ She looked up at him and kissed his cigarette-stale mouth with her own. ‘But can we stop at McDonald’s on the way? I’m starving.’
    He grinned. ‘That’s why you’re my girl. All class.’ His phone buzzed and he checked it, frowning as he read the text. ‘Man, that’s weird.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’ve got to go to the hospital, too. But have to stop and pick up some stuff first. It’s Jamie. He’s there too.’

 
     
     
    Four
    It was odd seeing Natasha’s mother, Alison Howland, so fragile and weepy, and somehow Becca found herself crying too, hot, wet sobs that sprang out of nowhere and hurt her chest. Gary Howland stood between them, one hand awkwardly on their backs, unsure of his place in this sea of feminine emotion. His jaw was tight and his eyes slightly too wide, but other than that and the stiffness in his spine, it was hard to tell if he was feeling anything at all. But then Becca had never really known him. He’d come in and out and gone to his office or the tennis club and smiled at them as they played while his mind was clearly elsewhere. Becca guessed that was how you became rich and successful. He wasn’t one of those dads who got involved. Natasha was no doubt endlessly grateful for that.
    ‘It’s so kind of you to come, Rebecca,’ Alison said, wiping away snotty tears. Always Rebecca with Mrs Howland, never Becca or Bex, just like Tasha was always Natasha. ‘You’re a good girl. You were a good friend to Natasha.’ Were. Becca said nothing to that, just gave a vague nod. Alison was as aware as anyone that Becca was no longer part of the inner circle. The inner circle were standing to one side, their carefully made-up eyes delicately bleary, both checking their phones. Hayley and Jenny. Almost identical and yet so different.
    Where Jenny was sensual soft and estate chic, Hayley was middle-class athletic. A hard body. She didn’t climb trees any more, but when she abandoned her tomboy ways she hadn’t given up sport. She was the fastest runner in the school. Never caught without lip gloss. And always with the shortest shorts no matter how many times she was told to change them. The two girls didn’t look at Becca and she turned her attention back to Alison Howland.
    ‘I just . . . I just wanted to show my support,’ Becca said eventually. ‘My mum sends her love, too.’ That was middle-ground enough. ‘I’m sure Tasha’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.’
    ‘I don’t understand what she was doing there.’ Alison’s gaze had drifted somewhere past Becca, into her own personal nightmare, but her hands gripped Becca’s like she was an anchor, the only thing stopping Alison from being dragged away completely. Her palms were dry and rough, as if all the moisture in her body had been cried out. ‘I mean, why was she even there at that time? In this weather?’ There was something in her tone, and the lack of response from Hayley, Jenny or Gary, that made Becca think these were questions Natasha’s mother had asked aloud over and over during the past few hours.
    Becca started to feel claustrophobic in the tight atmosphere of the small hospital relatives’ room. The lights were suddenly too bright and the air too hot and thin. Her skin prickled with sweat under her heavy quilted coat. She didn’t belong here.
    Just when she thought she might have to break away from Alison Howland’s grip and sit down for a moment, the door opened. Alison’s head swivelled fast and then her shoulders drooped. It wasn’t a doctor.
    ‘Detective Inspector Bennett, is there anything—’ Gary started but the inspector shook her head.
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d just like to have a word with the girls.’ DI Bennett had no make-up on and her hair was scraped back in a