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A snitch? ‘I didn’t do it to get paid.’ She crammed the remainder of her doughnut into her mouth crossly. What Dinah had said made her feel anxious and uncertain, as though something she’d always believed in suddenly wasn’t working. She told herself it was because she was angry, though it didn’t feel like anger. ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘Becca…’

‘I said, I’m off. I’m not a snitch.’

‘So the next Alicia Traynor who comes along, you’re OK with her sticking knives in people? Trying to drown a kid?’

Of course not. Who did Dinah think she was?

‘If you’d known enough about her before it all kicked off, would you have told someone? Would that have been snitching?’

No. Of course it wouldn’t. But the coppers – you tried to tell them, and they blamed you. Becca. You know that’s not true. Like last year when they’d accused her of setting fire to Kay’s cottage, and worse. You couldn’t trust them. But Dinah wouldn’t stop talking.

‘And the other kids like Lewis? If you could stop what was happening to them, would that be snitching?’

No. It wouldn’t. But…

In her head, she heard someone laughing. She heard the click of a lighter and the whoof of something igniting, the rags that Spice was wrapped in. People like Alicia didn’t just need stopping, they needed getting rid of, chucking away like they’d never been born.

But it wasn’t that simple. She felt confused.

‘I didn’t really do anything,’ she said slowly.

‘You nearly got killed, Becca. And you saved Lewis. You kept Traynor off him until help arrived. I didn’t do half as much as you did, but I got paid. Why shouldn’t you get something?’

‘Because…’ She couldn’t explain. It just felt wrong.

‘Sign up,’ Dinah urged her. ‘We seized a substantial cache of drugs worth – I don’t know – over a million, easily. What you did has to be worth a few thousand pounds. More, in my books, but I don’t make the final decision. Becca, you know the kinds of things that need stopping. All I’m asking is that you tip us off officially if you come across anything like that again.’

A few thousand pounds. That was a lot of money. It would buy her time to think about her future. It would be some money to get her started at college, or… lots of things. She needed to think about this. Hard. It looked too easy, and things that were easy often hid the teeth of a trap.

Snitch bitch.

Her mind played with the ideas as she walked back to the flat. She had rejected Dinah’s idea out of hand when she first suggested it, but now… even if it was just the once, it would make a massive difference to her.

But you didn’t snitch. Snitching felt dirty. But was it snitching when you came across someone like Alicia? Or Carl? Or was it just fighting back? She didn’t know the answer.

And Dinah Mason. Dinah worried her. She was all trust me, and nicey-nicey. Well, she hadn’t actually said that, but that’s what she meant. And maybe Becca hadn’t learned a lot, and maybe she still screwed things up, but one thing she did know: the nicey-nicey coppers were the ones who let you down.

Every time.

Becca wasn’t making that mistake again.

Which left Curwen. Curwen was a shit. He’d played her, used her, then he’d dropped her right in it and left her there. OK, that meant she’d know what to expect. There would be no let downs with Curwen, no nasty surprises, because you didn’t expect anything else from coppers like Curwen.

But he’d got Carl the perv banged up. Carl Lavery would have got away with it if Curwen hadn’t been onto him.

That was OK by Becca.

A few thousand pounds. It would make all the difference. It would give her something to live on if she went to college, or if she wanted to train for something. Or she could do what Jared did; pack up and go where she wanted to, live how she liked – for a while, anyway.

It would give her something she hadn’t had since her stepfather had moved into her mother’s house.

It would give her freedom.

Chapter 54

Bridlington Harbour

‘What?’

The incredulity on Becca’s face made Kay want to laugh. ‘I’m buying the house on Stone Creek Road,’ she said again. ‘The owner wants to sell, I’ve sold the cottage, what’s the problem?’

They’d bought fish and chips and were sitting outside the café on the harbour, looking out across the bay. The waves washed up the slipway and fell back. ‘Dunno,’ Becca said. She was staring at the sea as if she half-expected to see something in the water. ‘It’s, you know, a bit… There’s nothing there!’

This time, Kay did laugh. ‘There’s walking, there’s Spurn Point, there’s quite a community once you start looking.’ She almost said, There’s the estuary, but she didn’t want to remind Becca, not that Becca would have forgotten. Kay certainly hadn’t.

‘Spice is lovely,’ she said, changing the subject.

Becca gave her a narrow look. ‘Yeah. But the house. It’s falling down, right?’

She’d interpreted Kay’s subject change as a wish to avoid talking about the house – Kay was happy with that. Anything to get away from the events at Spragger Drain sluice. ‘It’s actually in better condition than it looks.’ The structure was sound. They’d probably built houses to last in that inhospitable environment. ‘But this time, I’m having central heating.’ No more stoves or open fires, no matter how much Matt had loved them. ‘It’s fine, Becca. I’ll be fine.’

Becca grunted, unconvinced.

‘I like what your landlord has done with your flat.’

‘Yeah.’ Becca stuffed the last of her chips in her mouth and scattered the scraps for the gulls.

‘You’ll get in trouble,’ Kay said as they watched the birds diving down and squabbling over the remains.

Becca smiled one of her rare smiles. ‘So what’s new?’

They walked slowly along the harbour wall, companionably arm-in-arm. Kay felt more relaxed about Becca now. She’d been seriously worried the more she heard about

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