playground. Kate heaved her head, a leaden weight, in the direction of the noise. Rebecca was wailing and beating feeble hands against a wrought-iron gate in the boundary wall. Kate made herself breathe in and out. She listened to the sound of it, concentrated on her lungs filling and emptying, her heart rate calming. Then she took a step, then another, one foot in front of the other, slowly advancing on Rebecca, walking on autopilot. She didn’t care now if she reached her or not. If Rebecca ran again, or made it through that padlocked gate, Kate wouldn’t follow; she was ready to give up, ready to fall to the ground, defeated.
But Rebecca didn’t run. She, too, it seemed, had lost her fight, collapsed as she was against the gate, wheezing and crying with exhaustion. She turned slowly to face Kate, who put her hands gently on the girl’s shoulders, panting heavily, her lungs burning. Then, as Kate stood just inches away from her daughter’s closest friend, mere feet from the exact spot where her daughter had died, she began to be bombarded with horrific images of Anna that she’d spent a year trying to wipe from her mind. Kate closed her eyes tightly and violently shook her head, desperate to block them out. Anna’s twisted body. Rigid on the ground. The pool of blood that circled her head like a devil’s halo, shining black in the moonlight. Her creamy skin spattered with grit. Dead eyes staring at the stars. Her blue-tinged mouth open as if calling for her mother.
‘Not here,’ Kate rasped.
Kate tried to drag her away from the shadow of the gymnasium, back towards the main school building. Rebecca started to pull and wriggle, digging her feet into the playground, yanking her arm back again and again. But Kate held on, desperate to get away from the recollections of Anna. When at last they began to fade enough for Kate to think, she turned Rebecca to face her, held the girl’s hands in hers, and bent so she was level with her face.
‘Now,’ she said, flat and quiet. ‘Tell me.’
Rebecca lifted her eyes and for a moment or two they held each other’s stare, but then her face set hard, eyes narrowing, mouth clamped shut, surly, uncooperative.
Make me , she said silently to Kate. You just try and make me.
And then every emotion Kate had, everything that occupied her, the anger and frustration, the guilt, pain, hurt, the bastard unfairness of it all, swelled up inside like boiling milk. Why wasn’t it you instead of her? Why did she have to die and you get to live ? Kate would have sold her soul for sixpence to have the tragedy the other way round. Was it wrong of her to feel that?
‘Tell me!’ she screamed. ‘For Christ’s sake, speak!’
But Rebecca gave her nothing. Kate started to shake her, as those returning images of her dead daughter bit into her with every push and pull. Rebecca’s head flopped back and forth like a rag doll’s. There was no resistance from her, just blankness, acceptance and a glaze that covered her eyes like a scab with whatever she knew buried beneath.
‘Why won’t you fucking tell me?’ Kate screamed. ‘You stupid little girl! I know you know something!’
Kate kept screaming at her, on and on, and the more she screamed and the longer Rebecca stayed quiet, the angrier Kate became until everything blurred and all she could see was the six-foot photograph of Anna that hung over the stage, but instead of her glowing skin and breathing beauty, the face she saw was bloodied and deformed, flattened so there was no definition, a nose so badly broken it didn’t protrude from her face, her teeth smashed, her skin saturated beneath the surface with blood, all swollen and bloated like a purple balloon.
Kate lost all control of herself then. She lifted her hands and began pounding them into Rebecca. Again and again she beat her fists against her, hitting out at all the pain she felt, begging Anna to be alive. Kate’s hands flailed, smacking into Rebecca in a clouded
But Rebecca didn’t run. She, too, it seemed, had lost her fight, collapsed as she was against the gate, wheezing and crying with exhaustion. She turned slowly to face Kate, who put her hands gently on the girl’s shoulders, panting heavily, her lungs burning. Then, as Kate stood just inches away from her daughter’s closest friend, mere feet from the exact spot where her daughter had died, she began to be bombarded with horrific images of Anna that she’d spent a year trying to wipe from her mind. Kate closed her eyes tightly and violently shook her head, desperate to block them out. Anna’s twisted body. Rigid on the ground. The pool of blood that circled her head like a devil’s halo, shining black in the moonlight. Her creamy skin spattered with grit. Dead eyes staring at the stars. Her blue-tinged mouth open as if calling for her mother.
‘Not here,’ Kate rasped.
Kate tried to drag her away from the shadow of the gymnasium, back towards the main school building. Rebecca started to pull and wriggle, digging her feet into the playground, yanking her arm back again and again. But Kate held on, desperate to get away from the recollections of Anna. When at last they began to fade enough for Kate to think, she turned Rebecca to face her, held the girl’s hands in hers, and bent so she was level with her face.
‘Now,’ she said, flat and quiet. ‘Tell me.’
Rebecca lifted her eyes and for a moment or two they held each other’s stare, but then her face set hard, eyes narrowing, mouth clamped shut, surly, uncooperative.
Make me , she said silently to Kate. You just try and make me.
And then every emotion Kate had, everything that occupied her, the anger and frustration, the guilt, pain, hurt, the bastard unfairness of it all, swelled up inside like boiling milk. Why wasn’t it you instead of her? Why did she have to die and you get to live ? Kate would have sold her soul for sixpence to have the tragedy the other way round. Was it wrong of her to feel that?
‘Tell me!’ she screamed. ‘For Christ’s sake, speak!’
But Rebecca gave her nothing. Kate started to shake her, as those returning images of her dead daughter bit into her with every push and pull. Rebecca’s head flopped back and forth like a rag doll’s. There was no resistance from her, just blankness, acceptance and a glaze that covered her eyes like a scab with whatever she knew buried beneath.
‘Why won’t you fucking tell me?’ Kate screamed. ‘You stupid little girl! I know you know something!’
Kate kept screaming at her, on and on, and the more she screamed and the longer Rebecca stayed quiet, the angrier Kate became until everything blurred and all she could see was the six-foot photograph of Anna that hung over the stage, but instead of her glowing skin and breathing beauty, the face she saw was bloodied and deformed, flattened so there was no definition, a nose so badly broken it didn’t protrude from her face, her teeth smashed, her skin saturated beneath the surface with blood, all swollen and bloated like a purple balloon.
Kate lost all control of herself then. She lifted her hands and began pounding them into Rebecca. Again and again she beat her fists against her, hitting out at all the pain she felt, begging Anna to be alive. Kate’s hands flailed, smacking into Rebecca in a clouded
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