He follows her downstairs and through the kitchen to the utility room. She picks up a pair of shoes. Vans. Old Skool.
‘This make and model?’ she says, thrusting a pair of blue trainers into his hands. ‘These are Millie’s, obviously, but every other girl in her and Iris’s class must have a pair. Probably some of the boys, too. They all wear the latest trend, Ian. Last year, it was Nike Air Force One, a few years ago it was Converse in the summer and Uggs in the winter. Stop overthinking and come to bed. It’s cold in here.’
Jo leaves the room, no doubt expecting him to follow her back upstairs. Looking at his daughter’s shoes in his hands, Ian heaves a sigh of relief. Every other teenager has the same shoes. The footprint could be anyone’s. His relief is short-lived. He looks at the label inside one of the shoes. These are also a six and a half. He reasons with himself. It’s just a coincidence. For Millie as well as for Iris. He should take his wife’s advice and go to bed. He needs to switch off.
But as he lies awake in the dark that night, staring at the red digits projected from the alarm clock onto the ceiling, he can’t help going over what he hasn’t told Jo. He hasn’t told her that the footprint was left after the crime was committed. Probably a few days afterwards. After the rain. That it was found in an exposed area, a small clearing in the woods. Next to Joshua’s body. That if the shoeprint had been left by Joshua’s murderer when they’d killed him, it would have been washed away by the rain.
Ian knows the footprint means that someone was thereafterJosh died. At first, he thought it might have been left by one of the first responders. But now an image has planted itself in his mind. Someone standing over and looking down on the dead body. The print definitely wasn’t left by the couple who found him. Both the man and woman wore Wellington boots to go out and pick blackberries.
But just because the footprint wasn’t left there on the day of Josh’s murder doesn’t mean that it wasn’t left by his murderer. Ian’s theory is that, for whatever reason, the victim’s murderer returned a few days later to the scene of the crime.
Chapter 16
Iris
THEN
It started off like a normal school day, nothing special. But by morning break something definitely felt off. Iris was sitting on a bench in the quad, soaking up some sun and chatting to Millie when she clocked a bunch of boys from the year above her staring and sniggering. She didn’t think anything of it until two girls, coming out of the toilets in the building opposite, also pointed. One of them giggled behind her hand while the other threw back her head and cackled. Were they talking about her? Laughing at her? At Millie? At both of them? Perhaps she was just being paranoid. Iris didn’t know any of the pupils, boys or girls.
Iris was in Year 12 at the time and South Lydacombe’s stupid IT Acceptable Use Policy forbade pupils to use their mobiles during the day ‘unless authorized by a member of staff, in class or in the library, for educational purposes’. Only students in Year 13 were allowed to go on their phones during break times ‘in certain designated areas’, like the common rooms and tuckshop. Which basically meant that pretty much everyone in the year above Iris knew before Iris herself. It wasn’t until lunchtime that Iris realized everyone was laughing at her and talking about her. But she still didn’t have a clue what they were saying.
‘What’s going on?’ Millie whispered as they sat down at the long wooden tables in the school dinner hall.
‘Beats me,’ Iris said.
So, there she was, in Geography, the first lesson of the afternoon, bored out of her mind, when she overheard the pupils behind her whisper her name. She wanted to whirl round and demand to know what everyone was saying about her. Instead, she strained her ears, tuning out Mr Steven’s droning to try and eavesdrop on their conversation. She couldn’t make out much, just the odd word here and there, but she did catch another name. Joshua Knoll.
She shivered, as if the temperature in the classroom had suddenly dropped several degrees. Had Josh started a malicious rumour about her? Or maybe it was his new girlfriend, Sasha Spencer-Lyles.
It was Megan Jessop who filled her in later that afternoon. Megan was the head girlandcaptain of the girls’ school cross-country club, the school’s golden girl. She was a year older than Iris – in Josh’s class. Iris had had a history test in her last lesson and hadn’t quite finished writing when the bell went. Mr Mason had allowed her an extra five minutes. The other girls were already in the changing rooms, getting changed into their running kit when Iris got there. The second Iris stepped inside, it was like someone had hit mute. She scanned the faces. Some of the girls were staring at her, their mouths open; others seemed to be concentrating on their shoelaces. At least they weren’t laughing at her. But she could totally feel them judging her.
‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ Iris’s voice came out sounding like a whimper.
Megan approached Iris, took her by the elbow and led her straight back out the door she’d just come through. ‘I tried to find you earlier to tell you,’ Megan said. ‘I thought you’d know by now. I didn’t think you’d come to training.’
Iris wished she’d just spit it out.
‘Some students have been sharing a video of you on their group chats and social media,’ Megan continued. ‘Someone posted the video to my drama WhatsApp group this morning.’
‘What sort of video?’ But Iris already knew the answer.
‘Come with me,’ Megan said.
Iris’s legs threatened to give way as she followed Megan round the corner of the building, where they were less likely to get caught using a mobile phone. Leaning against the wall, Megan took her mobile out of a pocket in her tracksuit top, brought up a post on WhatsApp and angled the screen towards Iris. Below the message:Have you seen this?!was a video. Iris didn’t need to press play to know which one.
She turned away from Megan, bent over and threw up on the ground. Megan held Iris’s hair back from her face with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone, even though her hair was tied up.
When they were dating, Josh had coaxed her to make a video for him. He’d even given her specific instructions. He wanted to see her naked and touching herself. This video was supposed to be for his eyes only. He’d promised to delete it. Clearly, he hadn’t kept his promise. Had he shared it deliberately?
‘We should report this,’ Megan said, magically producing a tissue from another pocket for Iris to wipe her mouth with. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Iris nodded. She had no intention of going to her cross-country training session now anyway. Josh would be there and she couldn’t face him. Not today. Maybe not ever again. She didn’t want to face anyone. Iris was rooted to the spot. Paralysed. Megan had to literally pull her along to find Mrs Hamilton, the deputy head pastoral.
Mrs Hamilton was in the staffroom. Iris was a little intimidated by her, to be honest. She had long black hair, angular features and a penchant for black clothes and she was, like, really bossy.
‘Mrs Hamilton, would it be possible to speak to you privately about a very serious matter?’ Megan said. Her intonation implied it wasn’t a question. She had the right tone of voice – firm, mature, not too dramatic, even though she was a great actress if her performance in the school’s production ofLes Mislast year was anything to go by.
Mrs Hamilton suggested they should go to her office. Megan and Iris sat down on one side of the wide desk opposite Mrs Hamilton, who asked, ‘Now, what seems to be the problem?’
