Greenwich Park, Katherine Faulkner [ereader android .txt] 📗

had to go to the boathouse to take it back. They had no evidence. I think, though, they knew it was us.

The four of us were in your room when the officers came. I’m sure you remember how it went. Serena spoke first. Yes, officer, we were at the boathouse, she said. My friend Daniel and I. But it must have been before, there was no one there when we took the boat back. Or when we left.

The police officer frowned. The victim knew she’d seen witnesses. One a girl. Blonde. Another a bloke, with spectacles. The officer gave me a long stare and I felt like I was made of glass, that I was about to shatter into pieces. I felt if I could just keep every muscle firm, every tiny part of my body still, I’d be safe.

You’re sure you didn’t see anything, he asked again. And I said no. That I was sorry. That I wished I could help. And you squeezed my arm, Helen. Believing me. And I had felt like the worst person on earth. I remember the detective, as he left the room. He glanced back. First at me. Then at Serena.

I tried to ignore the coverage of the trial, but it was impossible. The jury took so long over the verdict. It was too late, of course, by then. I had been praying they’d have enough, without us. Of course they will, Serena said. Haven’t you heard of DNA? But it wasn’t enough. They didn’t believe her.

I remember listening to it in the radio in the car, sitting outside my mum’s house, a fly buzzing in the wing mirror. Her knocking on the window, asking what I was doing. When it came back not guilty, I had opened the door and leaned over to be sick.

Years went by. I thought it had all gone away. Serena and I were never going to last – I loved you, Helen. And she loved Rory. I stopped thinking about the girl, about what we’d done. But then every time we lost a baby, a voice in my head would tell me that it was because of what I did. That I had brought it on us. That it was all my fault.

Did you ever suspect, Helen? There was a time when I wondered if you had caught us out. I found a photograph I didn’t know existed, of the four of us, at that play, the one where it all started, me in my wolf suit, Serena in her red cape. You’d torn it, right down the middle, between Serena and me.

But I kept that picture, stuck it back together. As a reminder of what I’d nearly lost. You. And the four of us. We were something precious, weren’t we? Despite everything. I know you felt that.

When you got pregnant again, and things finally seemed to be all right this time, I started to think maybe I’d had my punishment, that we were going to be left alone. Until that night, in Charlie’s club.

It had been Rory’s idea to take a new client there, a bloke who was always going on about places that ‘felt corporate’ or ‘soulless’ or ‘out of keeping with the community’. I have to admit it was a masterstroke of his, taking him to Charlie’s dodgy club in Hackney. He loved it, kept saying it was ‘real’. Rory even made Serena come along, help to charm him. Rory had been lying through his teeth all night, making out like he went there all the time. I think Serena and I were both a bit fed up, to be honest. It was just by chance that we went to the bar together, to escape for a bit. And that’s when she saw us.

She’d been working behind the bar, a glass in one hand, a cloth in the other. She’d recognised us straight away. I hadn’t known her face, but the truth of what she was saying registered immediately. My chest tightened, my palms were damp. I looked into her face and saw those green, watery eyes, the open mouth. Of course, by law, none of us had ever been allowed to know her name.

She wasn’t making any sense. She was hysterical. She said she’d spent years looking for us, after it all happened. She knew we’d lied. She just kept asking us why, saying we’d ruined her life. She started demanding we go to the police. Changing our story, all these years later. It was insane.

Serena picked up her bag and walked away. But when I tried to follow, the girl grabbed my arm, her fingernails piercing my skin.

Don’t, she said. Don’t you dare. You fuck me around again, I’m warning you, you will regret it.

Then she turned up at our offices. She lied, gave the name of the client, the one we’d taken to the club that night – she must have got it from the guest list. Lisa let her in, was fussing around her, bringing her a coffee, thinking she was someone important. I wanted to run, to throw her out of the fucking window.

But I played along for Lisa, took her into my office. When Lisa was gone I asked her real name. She said I didn’t need to know, that I had no right to know. I told her I was sorry, that I’d been a coward, that I remembered that night and I wish I’d said something. I told her I was trying to protect my girlfriend, my now wife. My pregnant wife.

That’s why I’d lied to the police. I told her that I was sorry, that I wished I could undo it. And then I asked her to keep quiet. I begged her. I offered her money. Anything to keep my secret.

As soon as I finished my speech, she gave this little smile, started tapping away on her phone. And that’s when I saw how stupid I’d been. She’d recorded me. And before I could grab