Chapter 21
Becca says, ‘It’s up to Eilish how she chooses to remember Genevieve. If she wants to remember the best in her, that’s her prerogative.’
‘She’s deluded,’ Kimmy says.
‘I don’t think …’ Jameson begins, but for once he can’t smooth this over.
He doesn’t know what to say. I look at him, wondering if he is part of the conspiracy too, but he’s not meeting my eye.
Do any of them have truly good things to say about Genevieve – or when we honoured her memory last night was it just part of an elaborate act to keep me in the dark?
Surely Leo still has love in his heart for her.
He adored her. Tears fill my eyes but I hold them back. I don’t want to smear my make-up.
‘Leo,’ I plead; he’s my best bet.
Leo sighs. ‘Sorry, Eilish.’
Alex gets up to pour himself another drink. He has a strange look on his face, as though he’s battling with himself again, then he throws up his hands. ‘Fuck it! She’s right, we all know it.’
We do not.
I stare open-mouthed at Alex.
‘You had a good reason to hate her too,’ Kimmy snipes. ‘As much as any of us, I’d say.’
Alex gives her a hard stare but says nothing.
Kimmy looks at me. ‘Did you know that it was Genevieve who got Alex kicked out of uni and Leo in trouble for writing that essay for him?’
I gasp. ‘Alex, is that true?’
He drags a hand over his face, takes a gulp of his drink.
I think he’s on neat whisky now. ‘Yeah,’ he says.
‘It’s true. Gen knew the password to Leo’s laptop and email.
She found the message he sent me with the assignment attached.
The one I passed off as my own. It was …
I was going to get myself sorted out, start studying. It was just one essay …’
I turn to Leo. He’s gone pale. He’s staring off to the side, his jaw so tight I think his teeth might crack.
Becca retrieves a half-full Champagne bottle and starts topping up our glasses, like any of us are still in a festive mood.
‘This is ancient history,’ she begins. Euan gets up and retreats to a table on the far side of the room, as though needing to put physical distance between himself and us.
He hasn’t been drinking much tonight, and I’m sure he thinks we’re all ridiculous … or insane.
Alex is still staring intensely at me. Jameson won’t look at me at all, although his hand still rests lightly on my knee.
No one else is expressing any surprise, which means I’m the only one this is news to.
Fair enough, I’m the one who removed myself for the past ten years.
But it still makes me feel like an outsider.
The thought of Gen betraying the boys like that whips the rug out from under me. A few nasty comments to Becca, of whose connections she was always a little jealous perhaps, and her reaction to Kimmy shagging her boyfriend – horrific as it was – are easy to explain away as mistakes, hurt feelings.
But to have contrived to get Alex thrown out of university, his reputation in tatters. To have risked Leo experiencing the same fate – not to mention the hell Leo must have got from his folks when it came to light, and they had to exert every bit of influence they had to save him.
That’s cold. Vindictive.
The actions of a Genevieve I just don’t recognise.
Alex leans towards me. ‘So, now you know, Eilish. We might have been in thrall to her at some point, but by the time she died, each and every one of us had reason to hate that girl.’
Each and every one of us …
You got it worst of all.
It’s too much. I can’t listen to any more of this.
*
I retreat to the bathroom and stay there for a long time, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with my head in my hands. I take slow, deep breaths, trying to counteract the alcohol in my system. I need to think clearly.
What am I missing?
I tuck a coil of hair behind my ear and press my palms together. I’m searching my memory for some crack, something that might indicate a false front layered over the truth. Like I can peel back the edge and reveal the true picture beneath.
Becca lied about the circumstances of Gen’s drowning. We weren’t together at the fire immediately before she was discovered, but scattered across the beach as if we couldn’t bear each other’s company.
Becca clung to our hands and entreated us to keep a secret as though she assumed we all knew exactly what she was talking about.
Alex thinks someone was in the sea with Genevieve that night.
And apparently, every one of her so-called friends hated her.
Even me.
My head snaps up and I leap up in agitation, staring at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Trying to read something in my expression, as though I might see the truth reflected in my eyes.
What have I forgotten about that night?
Is it possible that – no, absolutely not. I crack down on the thought before it can voice itself.
But …
Okay, for argument’s sake, let’s consider it. Just so I can realise how ridiculous it is and properly refute it. My heart races.
Did we somehow conspire to murder one of our friends, and then cover it up as a tragic accident?
*
The handmade soap is scented with kelp and sea salt. It triggers a memory.
I’m at the water’s edge, the smoky glow of the bonfire in the distance, the dark sea ahead. The pale smudge of her in the water. My hair streaming seawater down my back, my top and shorts clinging to me. Glancing to my left and seeing the others converging on the tideline.
I have no idea if it’s false or real. If it’s true, why were my clothes wet before I went into the sea to save her?
Is it possible that Gen did something terrible to me too and I’ve suppressed the memory all this time, along with the details of her death? Shock can do strange things to a person.
But the possibility that I might have … participated in her death is impossible to imagine. It’s too much of a stretch even if I accept that she might not have been the perfect friend I’ve always believed her to be.
Shaking, I detour via the library, delaying my return to the drawing room a little longer. The room is smudgy dark, but snow-light pours in with the curtains still open. I catch sight of a shadowed figure, stooping over a side table.
I take in the hunched figure, the mirrored surface, the lines of white powder that sparkle like the snow on the windowpanes.
I freeze, try to back up, but I’ve been spotted. Alex looks up, swipes a hand beneath his nose. ‘Eilish, don’t make a fuss, it’s just a line of coke. I needed it after that scene back there.’
I take a step away from him. His mood has been dark and erratic, and I don’t know what he was trying to talk to me about earlier. It can’t just be that Gen wasn’t all she seemed. I suppose now is my chance to find out, but that feels … dangerous. My heart beats faster, and I back up again.
I almost feel afraid of him.
But that’s ridiculous. It’s Alex.
He shoots out a hand to grab me. He moves faster than I imagine he could, with so much drink inside him. ‘We need to talk, Eils.’
I’m on the threshold of the library, nearly in the hall. I shake myself free, loosening his hold on me. If I have to, I can defend myself.
But I don’t want to.
Plus, where would I go? I can’t just storm off into the snow.
I run back down the long gallery, under the scrutiny of all those ancient faces. Almost tripping on my long skirt several times. I’ve got no idea why I’m running away from Alex, only that it feels like the right thing to do.
I dart down the stairs, breathless with a fear I don’t fully understand. There was a voice in my head all along telling me that this was a bad idea. A voice I ignored.
I should have listened.
I hear the sound of pursuit behind me, but I have a head start. I hear his voice calling after me. ‘Please, trust me, Eils.’
But I don’t trust him, not anymore.
I’m not sure I trust anyone.