Page 133 of Good Girl, Bad Blood

‘Well, yeah, so do I,’ he replied. ‘More than one someone probably.’

‘Yeah,’ Pip exhaled. ‘But the one I know is Nat da Silva’s new boyfriend.’

THURSDAY

6 DAYS MISSING

Twenty-Seven

A yawn split her face as she stared down at the toast in front of her. Not hungry.

‘Why are you so tired this morning?’ her mum asked, watching her over a mug of tea.

Pip shrugged, flicking the toast around her plate. Josh was sitting opposite her, humming as he shovelled Coco Pops into his mouth, swinging his legs out under the table and kicking her accidentally on purpose. She didn’t react, pulling her knees up to sit cross-legged on the chair instead. The radio was on in the background, tuned to BBC Three Counties, as always. The song was just ending, the hosts talking over the fading drums.

‘Are you taking too much on with this Jamie thing?’ her mum said.

‘It’s not a thing, Mum,’ Pip said, and she could feel herself growing irritable, wearing it like a layer beneath her skin, warm and unstable. ‘It’s his life. I can be tired for that.’

‘OK, OK,’ her mum said, taking the empty bowl away from Josh. ‘I’m allowed to worry about you.’

Pip wished she wouldn’t. She didn’t need anyone’s worry; Jamie did.

A text lit up Pip’s phone, from Ravi.Just leaving for court to wait for deliberation. How are you?X

Pip stood and scooped up her phone, grabbing her plate with the other hand and sliding the toast into the bin. She felt her mum’s eyes on her. ‘Not hungry yet,’ she explained. ‘I’ll take a cereal bar into school.’

She had only taken a few steps down the hall when her mum called her back.

‘I’m just going to the toilet!’ she replied.

‘Pip, get in here now!’ her mum shouted. And it was a real shout, a sound Pip rarely heard from her, rough and panicked.

Pip felt instantly cold, all feeling draining from her face. She spun back, socks sliding on the oak floor as she sprinted into the kitchen.

‘What, what, what?’ she said quickly, eyes darting from a confused-looking Josh to her mum, who was reaching over to the radio, turning up the volume.

‘Listen,’ she said.

‘. . .a dog walker discovered the body at about six a.m.yesterday morning in the woodland beside the A413, betweenLittle Kilton and Amersham. Officers are still at the scene. Thedeceased is as yet unidentified but has been described as a whitemale in his early twenties. The cause of death is currentlyunknown. A spokesperson for Thames Valley Police has said–’

‘No.’ The word must have come from her, but she didn’t remember saying it. Didn’t remember moving her lips, nor the scrape of the word against her narrowing throat. ‘No no nonono.’ She didn’t feel anything except numb, her feet a solid weight sinking into the ground, her hands detaching from her finger by finger.

‘P . . . i . . . p?’

Everything around her moved too slowly, like the room was floating, because it was right there with her in the eye of the panic.

‘Pip!’

And everything snapped back into focus, into time, and she could hear her heart battering in her ears. She looked up at her mum, who mirrored back her terrified eyes.

‘Go,’ her mum said, hurrying over and turning Pip by her shoulders. ‘Go! I’ll call school and tell them you’ll be in late.’

‘Up next, one of my favourite songs from the eighties, we haveSweet Dreams . . . ’

‘He, he c-can’t be—’

‘Go,’ her mum said, pushing her down the hall, just as Pip’s phone started buzzing with an incoming call from Connor.

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