But that’s not all. My hand shakes as I examine the pendant. There’s a brownish stain on it. It could be mistaken for rust if it wasn’t for the tissue, which is unquestionably bloodstained.
My heart clenches as if it’s being squeezed in a vice. Why does Iris have this? Is this … could this be Josh’s blood? I drop the tissue to the floor. My mind goes into overdrive and I try to block the images my imagination conjures up: my daughter ripping the necklace from Josh’s neck as he lies in the woods, bleeding out, with a knife sticking out of his body.
What do I do now? Ash. I need to talk to Ash. I slide my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans. My hand is still trembling as I bring up his number. My call goes straight to voicemail, Ash inviting me in his West Country accent to leave a message. I don’t.
Instead, I toss the necklace into the pedal bin in the kitchen. I empty Olly’s wastepaper basket, too, covering the stained wolf pendant with crisp packets and banana skins. Then I go into the cloakroom and flush the bloody tissue down the toilet. A nosebleed. That’s probably all it was.
A scenario unfolds in my head. Josh gave the necklace to Iris, perhaps he threw it at her, wanted nothing more to do with her. She meant to throw it out. With the bloody tissue. I prefer that to the version I came up with just now, in the utility room.
Am I doing the right thing? I came into Iris’s room intending to get rid of her diary in case she’d written anything that could be misconstrued. I didn’t consider that I might be destroying evidence. But I’m her mother. By definition, I’m hard-wired to shield my children from harm, even if that means covering for them. I didn’t manage to protect my daughter when she needed me before. She has been through hell. I’m not going to let her down this time.
My mobile goes. It’s Ash. I press the red button to decline the call. Then, head braced against the rain, I take out the rubbish bag. It’s bin collection day tomorrow. It will be as if I’d never set foot in Iris’s bedroom this morning, as if that necklace had never existed.
Chapter 11
Ian
NOW
‘What’s this, Ash?’ Ian asks, although he can see through the plastic what it is.
‘Look, the younger Knoll boys smoked a joint outside your house on the night of Millie’s party and—’
‘What were they doing outside my house? How do you know this?’
‘I was on taxi duty. I picked Iris up that night. I saw them. They were sitting on your wall.’
‘Oh.’ Ian fiddles with his cigarette packet.Quitting Will Improve Your Healthis written on it in big, bold, black letters. Jo’s always nagging him to stop smoking. He thinks she’s more interested in improving their finances than his health, though. Ian has given up more times than he can count.
‘They were sitting on your wall, puffing away on a spliff. You know, Jonah and Jeremiah or whatever their names are. Their fingerprints will—’
‘Jordan and Jasper Knoll.’
‘Right. Jordan and Jasper. Both names beginning with J. Joshua, too. I bet the parents get confused all the time. The teachers, too.’
Ash gives a dry chuckle, but Ian doesn’t join in. He has an inkling of where this is going and he doesn’t like it. They’re sitting at a wooden picnic table in the garden of The Grove, Ash’s local, Ash nursing a pint and Ian drinking a coffee. He needs the caffeine fix. It’s bloody cold out here, but there’s no one else outside so at least they can talk without worrying that someone might overhear. And Ian can smoke. He lights up an Embassy.
Ian is shocked at Ash’s appearance. Everything about Ash exudes desperation. His blue eyes are dimmed and underlined with tired, black bags; he’s hunched over.
‘Please,’ Ash says. ‘You said if I ever needed you …’
Ian hates thinking about it. He’s never talked about it. His darkest secret. His greatest shame. His biggest mistake. He’s always known it would come back and bite him in the arse one day.
That day has come, apparently. Ian owes Ash, and Ash is calling in that favour. At least, that’s what Ian thinks his best mate is doing.
He and Ash met at university – Birmingham – during freshers’ week. They were in the same hall of residence. They hit it off straightaway, although, on the surface, they had little in common. They weren’t even on the same course. Ian was from Derry; Ash was from Devon – Ash could hardly understand a word he said in his thick accent. They were like Little and Large, only a lot younger and even less funny. But their friendship was firmly cemented the night Ash saved Ian’s skin.
He’d been stupid. Really stupid. He’d never been stocious, never even drunk alcohol before he came to university – Ian’s father was an alcoholic until he drank himself into an early grave. Afterwards, his mam didn’t keep a drop of alcohol in the house, not even wine to use in her cooking.
He thought he was relatively sober when he left the party, but it soon became clear to him that he couldn’t hold his drink at all.
Ash had tonsilitis and was on antibiotics. He’d only drunk one pint at the party. He’d cycled to the party, which was off-campus at a student house, whereas Ian had driven out to Aston to buy some second-hand books he’d seen advertised that he thought would make good background reading for his criminology degree. He’d come to the party straight from Aston. He and Ash left at the same time and agreed to meet up back at their hall of residence.
It was dark and she was wearing dark clothes. She came from out of nowhere. Her dog ran across the road and she ran after it. Technically, it wasn’t Ian’s fault. He told himself that again and again over the weeks that followed, while the girl was lying in hospital with a broken leg, concussion and internal bleeding. But who was he kidding? Who knows if his reactions would have been quicker if he hadn’t been blathered. He thought he must have been driving more or less at the speed limit, but he couldn’t swear to it. What was he thinking? He wanted to go into the police force, for feck’s sake! That wasn’t going to happen if he had a criminal record! After a while, Ian couldn’t even be sure if his version of events was accurate. Had he swerved? Had he been driving too fast? Recklessly? He didn’t think so, but, again, he couldn’t swear to it.
Ash arrived a few seconds later. He jumped off his bike and shouted orders at Ian.
‘Get the triangle from your car and set it up! Hurry!’
