More like he wants to delete anything he sent her. I pull away and wipe my eyes with my hands. I sit down on the floor and take a deep breath. I have to hold it together, it’s not fair on Josh. He shouldn’t be the one helping me. He hides the bag somewhere and then sits down next to me.
‘Okay, we have to start somewhere and I figure this will be the most emotional stuff so let’s get it over with. Ready?’
I look at the box. I know exactly what’s in there. She’s written it all over the box. ‘How can you do this?’
He looks at me as if I’m accusing him of being heartless. ‘It’s not that it’s easy for me, but if I pretend it doesn’t matter then it will get it over with quickly and we can get some of it out of the way before mum and dad come back. I want mum to stop crying. The counsellor said that having the dead person’s stuff in the house can help some people get through it, but for others it stops them getting over it.’
‘What counsellor?’
‘The police family liaison woman arranged it for us. Do you want me to ask if you can see him too?’
I shake my head quickly. A counsellor would be trained to see into people’s minds, to read their thoughts and find out what’s behind their emotions. That’s the last thing I want. Or do they have to keep things confidential? I’ll have to Google that when I get home because if they do have to keep everything their clients say to themselves, maybe having someone to tell could really help me. I reach out and take the lid off of the box that hold’s Katie’s favourite possessions. A smell comes over us both. The smell of a beach. She kept some shells from our Newquay holiday. They still have some grains of sand in them. There’s a postcard I sent her from there. She sent me one too. Josh picks it up and reads it.
‘I think I need to tell you how postcards are meant to work. You’re supposed to send them to the people who didn’t go on holiday with you!’
I smile. We knew no-one else would get it. It was just something that made us laugh, especially the anticipation of waiting for them to arrive in the post when we got back. I had no idea what Katie had written on hers and she didn’t know what I’d written. Next, I pull something out. It’s a ring one of the boys in our year had given her when they were going out. It’s only plastic and we were pretty sure it came from a Christmas cracker but it was the first time she’d been given a present by a boy. She obviously saved it for that reason, because they didn’t go out for very long so it’s not because she was love-struck. It’s an orange band with a big white and yellow daisy on it. She wore it for about a year until it looked like it was going to snap. I didn’t know she’d kept it. She didn’t know she’d never be given another present from a boy. She’ll never get an engagement ring because of me. I wonder if I will. I feel like my life has ended too and I’m just here in spirit to tie up some loose ends before I go to be with her.
‘So, is there anything in here that’s yours or that you want to keep? I’ll throw the rest away. It won’t mean anything to anyone else and it’s just tat really.’
I force my hands to carefully rummage through the box. Cinema stubs, school disco tickets, stuff she made at primary school. I put a few things to one side for her mum to keep, but most of it is meaningless without Katie. Next, he brings over her CD case. He takes the CDs he wants and tells me to take the ones I want. The rest he says he’ll take to charity.
‘Do you want to check her wardrobe for any of your clothes?’
I feel like I’m stealing from her. But I’m only taking back my things because I’m being asked to and if I don’t her parents will give them to charity or throw them away. I don’t want any of it back. I’ll just put it all in the bottom of my wardrobe and forget about it. Although, come to think of it, there is one thing that I would like to get back. It was special to me, before all this, and I didn’t really want her to borrow it in the first place. My yellow summer dress. I wore it in Newquay and Paul the surfer said it looked great on me. It’s the first dress I’ve owned that made me feel like a grown-up and made me feel more attractive than Katie. It suited me really well and made me feel more confident. That’s probably why I lost my virginity in that dress. To Paul the surfer. It wasn’t how I imagined it would be, there was sand everywhere and we had to hide from drunks coming out of the beach bar, but it was special. He was so nice to me. I didn’t feel used and I didn’t feel like second best, even though Katie was with the boy I’d originally tried to pull. But Paul made it special by taking it seriously and being grown-up about it. He even kept his promise of emailing me when the holiday was over. Thinking about that night gives me goosebumps, but in a good way for a change. Then I remember what happened with Steve from Best Booze and my goosebumps turn into a shudder. I won’t be able to reply to Paul’s emails now I’ve closed my Hotmail and Facebook accounts. He’s someone else I need to cut all ties with in case the truth eventually comes out.
I so didn’t want Katie to borrow this particular dress but she asked me if she could wear it to our school’s end of year barbeque recently. I said yes as long as I got it back clean and within a week, otherwise she keeps stuff forever. She knew how I felt about it, and why, so I was annoyed that she asked to borrow it. I wonder what she did with it after. I open her wardrobe and am instantly hit with her scent. I hold my breath and try to ignore it. I check every item of clothing and, although I spot other clothes of mine, I can’t find my yellow dress. I can feel tears building up again. How ridiculous! It’s going to be here somewhere. I check every item again urgently, ignoring all the flashbacks of Katie wearing these clothes. Where the hell is it? I’ve got to get it back. It’s mine.
‘What are you looking for?’
I turn around to face him. He won’t know what I’m on about but I may as well tell him. ‘A yellow summer dress, its strapless and-.’
His face drops. ‘Why? Was it yours?’
Suddenly I know what he’s going to say before he says it. But I don’t want him to say it. I nod yes and then turn away, bracing myself. ‘Shit. That’s what she’s wearing. That’s what they buried her in.’
I don’t know why I’m crying over a stupid dress or why I feel massively pissed off and cheated. I could probably still buy a replacement in New Look. But I don’t want to replace it now. Not if that’s what she’s wearing. I’ll have to throw away the photos of me and Paul from that day. I never want to see that dress again. Everything’s ruined. Yet again she wins.
‘I’ve got to go, sorry.’
I run passed Josh and down the stairs. I slam their front door behind me and keep the tears back until I get home and into my own bedroom. I feel like my heart’s breaking. I’m so angry with her. She’s done this, it’s all her fault, not mine or her dad’s! She was probably lying about her dad anyway, just to get even more attention than she already gets. She’s a stupid bitch and I hate her! I punch my mattress over and over again. Mum must be out because otherwise she’d hear me screaming in frustration. Katie’s ruined my whole life. Paul was right when he said she was overconfident. She was so full of herself. I was just her puppet really. I was so grateful to have her as a friend that I did whatever she wanted me to. I feel so used and pathetic. I’m glad she’s dead. She deserves it. I can’t believe she’s wearing my dress. She’ll be wearing it forever.
I spot the piggy bank she bought me, on my bedside table. I pick it up and throw it at the wall so that it breaks into chunks onto the floor. That feels good. I hunt for any jewellery she’s ever bought me and tear it all apart. I don’t want anything from her. Her stuff from me is being thrown away so I’ll do the same to her stuff. I’ll pretend she never existed.
When I run out of steam I throw myself backwards onto my bed and just lay there, crying. I’m still pissed off but now I’m started to feel stupid and ashamed at what I’ve just done. Straight away I regret breaking all that stuff. I get up and put it all in the bin. Out of sight, out of mind. My mind’s racing now and I don’t feel able to relax. My emotions have taken over yet again and I’m sick of it. I switch my lap
top on to look up counselling. There are so many links on the subject. I manage to find out that it is confidential, although the counsellor has to discuss their cases with a supervisor, but that supervisor is also bound by confidentiality. Maybe I should see that counsellor Josh goes to. It says on one website that a counsellor can help people through difficult emotions. That’s exactly what I have. I read a few forum comments where people both praise it and slag it off. Why is nothing simple? It looks like it works for some people and not for others. Why can’t there just be something that works full stop? Surely, he’d be able to read my thoughts? Could I really just tell him everything? I wonder if he’d be able to advise me on what to do. I bet he’d tell the police though. I might ask mum later what she thinks about seeing him. Then I hear someone at the door. Mum’s home. She comes upstairs and asks me how it went at Josh’s house but I really can’t talk about it so I just avoid answering. I spend the evening alone in my room, wondering what to do next. I try to get used to this solitary confinement.
Chapter 5
The next morning, before mum leaves for work, I ask her what she thinks about me seeing a counsellor. She takes a deep breath and sits down. She looks relieved.
‘I think that would be a really good idea. It might help to have someone other than family to speak to.’
‘Josh said that him and his parents are seeing a counsellor that the police put them in touch with.’
‘That might be the same one they gave me details for then. After they came round to speak to you, they left a card. I’ll go and get it.’
That Inspector left a card for a counsellor? She must have believed me then. She can’t be suspicious if she was offering me counselling. Just knowing that makes me feel less in need of counselling.
‘Here it is. Do you want me to ring them to make an appointment?’
‘I don’t know. Would you have to sit in with me, because I’m underage?’
‘No, I shouldn’t think so. It’s all confidential, isn’t it? I expect he wouldn’t even be allowed to tell me what you talked about.’
‘Right.’ Even though yesterday I felt like I was losing it, this morning I don’t feel as bad. So how am I supposed to know if I’m going to lose it again and need counselling? ‘No, not yet. I’ll have a think about it.’
I take the card and put it in my back pocket. Just in case.
After mum leaves for work I look for her red wine. I just need something. I sit watching crappy day-time TV for hours whilst swigging on the bottle. I’ll refill it with water so she doesn’t notice too much has gone. The silence of this house is getting to me. I fix myself beans on toast for lunch and then sit down in front of some random music channel, not paying much attention. Just as I finish eating, the landline rings.
‘It’s Josh. I just wanted to check you got home okay yesterday.’
Why does he have to be so nice to me? ‘Yeah, I did. I’m sorry for acting crazy.’
‘No worries. What are you doing tonight?’
What a strange question. I’ve not been asked about plans for ages. I’ve not had any plans for ages. It throws me. ‘Er, nothing, I guess.’
‘No, me neither.’
Then there’s an awkward silence. Does he want to do something? Should I ask? Before I get the chance, he asks me.
‘Want to go to the cinema? There’s a film on I wouldn’t mind seeing.’
How am I meant to answer that? Is he asking me out on a date? Or is it because he’s bored and needs to get out that house. I would if I were him. ‘Yeah I suppose. What time?’
‘I’ll come round for you at seven.’
‘Okay.’
He hangs up without saying goodbye. Boys hate using the phone for actual conversations. I suppose that now I don’t use a mobile he’s had to ring me instead of texting. So, I’m going to the cinema tonight. How weird. At least I can ask him more about what counselling is like, and at least it will be dark in there so if there are any kids from school there they won’t see me. I hear mum pull into the driveway. She’s come back for lunch. And to check on me of course. I go to meet her at the front door.
‘Hi love, how’s your morning been?’
‘Fine,’ I lie. ‘Josh wants me to go to the cinema with him tonight,’ I try to say it casually but mum looks at me odd. No, I don’t know why he asked me either, ‘I think he just wants to get out of their house. Things are a bit intense over there. They’ve got photos of her everywhere.’
‘Really? It must be so hard for them. I can’t imagine what I would do if it was you. I must go and visit them soon.’
‘How’s work?’
She talks at me for a while, but I’m not really listening. Not until she asks me if I saw the letter that came for me. ‘What letter?’
‘It came yesterday morning, I put it on the telephone table.’
She goes to get it while I start to panic. Who would write to me?
‘It slipped down the side. Here you go. I’m going to load the washing machine, have you got anything that needs to go in?’
‘No, I haven’t sorted through all my clothes yet.’ The letter is practically burning in my hand. It has to be bad news.
‘I’m going upstairs for a bit.’
I rush to my room with the letter. I know before I open it that it’s going to be something awful. I don’t get mail. People don’t write to teenagers. The envelope is white and my name and address have been hand written, but when I open the letter it’s been typed. It only contains one sentence but it’s a sentence that will ruin the rest of my life;
It’ll be our little secret if you agree to meet me at the quarry tomorrow at two o’clock.
This came yesterday so they want me to meet them today. Closing down Facebook wasn’t enough. Someone really did see us and they’re not going to let this go. My stomach lurches into my lungs and my head goes so dizzy I have to sit on my bed. What am I going to do? Who is this tormenting me? Why don’t they just go to the police and get it over with? Oh my God, when is this all going to end? I just want to curl up and die. If mum finds out. If she’d read this letter. What about Josh? If he knew. I don’t know what to do, I can feel myself panicking like before. Why would this person want me to meet them? What the hell is the point of that? Unless it’s the police trying to trick me. Shit, what am I supposed to do? I can’t go back to that quarry. I sit here for half an hour without thinking of a solution.
‘I’m off now. See you tonight.’
Mum’s downstairs, about to go back to work. Maybe I should tell her. But I can’t, not without telling her why this person is harassing me.
‘Bye.’
She leaves. I’m alone. I have twenty minutes to get to the quarry. My body is shaking badly again. I’ve got no choice. I have to go and find out who it is. Maybe they will keep it a secret. Maybe it’s one of our old friends and they want to help. I’ll try to see who it is without them seeing me. Then I’ll know what to do.
As I reach the quarry entrance, I have tears streaming down my face under mum’s sunglasses. I haven’t been back here since it happened. The weather is so similar it could be the same day. They still haven’t hired any security guards, despite the Facebook campaign some parents have started. I climb the fence in exactly the same way I did last time, avoiding the barbed wire and rusty parts. We didn’t want to get tetanus. Maybe I’ll die today. Maybe that’s why I’ve been brought back here, or maybe the letter and emails were from Katie.
I’m in. I look around. I don’t see anyone. I’m five minutes early but surely they would be early too? I try to fool myself but I know why I can’t see anyone really. It’s because I’m not in the right place. They’re going to make me go back there. To where she died. I’m still crying as my legs automatically start walking in that direction. It’s so hot. I have sweat patches under my arms and my legs are getting aggravated by the long grass and thistles. It’s a long walk to the right spot. That’s why Katie chose it, so that we wouldn’t be seen. Or caught. I keep going unti
l I get there, my feet growing heavier with every step. I feel like I keep seeing her out of the corner of my eye, hiding behind the trees but following me. She’s scaring me. The grass eventually turns into sandy stones as I reach the spot. There’s no-one here. I’m shaking so much and my stomach won’t settle. This was a bad idea, I’m going to leave. It was obviously some sick joke and I fell for it. I turn around. I scream. He grabs me and puts his hand over my mouth.
‘Shut up! There could be people walking their dogs for Christ’s sake!’
It’s her dad. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. This can’t be happening. He knows. Does that mean Josh knows too? Is he here?
‘I’m going to remove my hand. Do you promise not to scream?’
No. But I nod. ‘I’m so sorry!’ I’m trying to cry, to prove how guilty I feel, but my tear ducts are judgementally conspiring against me. He’s probably going to push me. I hope he does, at least it would all be over with then.
‘Hannah. I just want to talk to you, that’s all. Okay?’
I nod again. But if he just wanted to talk then why bring me here? I’ve never had an actual conversation with him before, just indirect hellos and goodbyes. Oh my God, what if he knows what we were planning?
‘I was here Hannah, I saw everything.’
My heart sinks. ‘Does Josh know yet?’
‘No, and I won’t tell him or your mum or the police.’
I don’t understand, ‘Why not?’
The Girl Who Died: A Young Adult Novel Page 5
