AFTER THE TEARS, THE HYSTERIA, THE COMMISERATIONS, the police and the press and the total, drowning, wipe-out misery, it was the day of the funeral. Taisie couldn’t believe that she was standing in a church and that her sister’s body was in that shiny wooden box with the huge arrangement of bright green foliage and white flowers trailing over the edges. The smell of jasmine, roses and lilies was overpowering. There were so many people it was standing room only, and some mourners had even spilled out into the narrow corridor outside the crematorium chapel. Family, friends, teachers, Mr Wendover, their headmaster, looking shiny and smart in his dark suit, his fluffy wife beside him. Taisie saw him tip up his glasses and wipe away a tear.
Her sister was getting SO much attention. It was almost worth dying for.
Oh God. She could not believe she just had that thought.
I’m sorry, Izzy. I really am, truly sorry.
But it wasn’t Taisie’s fault, was it? Izzy knew that if Taisie had known the water level had risen so high she would never have asked her to keep her promise. Izzy wouldn’t have gone in if Nick hadn’t done what he had. A picture of her sister in tears flashes through her mind and is gone. She wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t. Her mind is swirling with dark clouds. She can’t fix on anything. What had Izzy said to her before she ran off? That Nick had kissed her? That he had touched her breast? She couldn’t picture it. It wasn’t the sort of thing he would do. But on the other hand, the truth is too much to handle. There’s Tim and the way he made her feel, there’s the minutes she lost with her mother’s intervention. Surely Izzy wouldn’t have gone in like that, not without making sure that Taisie was right behind her? So she must have been desperately upset.
This was horrific, unbearable. She couldn’t untangle the strands. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t. So it must have been Nick’s. He was angry at them for the way they had treated him. Izzy had been kind and he had taken advantage of a young girl’s adolescent crush. Izzy had always been a physical child, prone to displays of affection, hugging, winding herself round you. That’s what must have happened. Nick was unhappy, and he got the wrong idea.
She choked on her tears and pressed her hanky to her eyes. Down the other end of the pew Nick was with Tim and Cora. She had caught his eye earlier and he had given her a nod, like he understood. He didn’t, but he was going to. She sniffed and turned her head away. He used to be her friend, and she misses that. She can’t help looking back to a time when nothing mattered except playing their daft games. She wished none of this had happened, but it had. Izzy was in that coffin and someone had to take the blame.
When it was over, they filed out of their pews to the strains of ‘Oops! … I Did It Again’. Taisie had chosen it because it was the song of the summer. Inappropriate, but who cared; Izzy had adored it.
Later, back at the house where the mourners had gathered, pressing into their kitchen and tramping through to the garden, Taisie found Nick sitting on the old blue-and-red climbing frame. Their garden felt tiny with all these people crammed into it, and it was hot, the men sweltering in their suits. Nick looked down at her. She climbed up beside him, carefully arranging the hideous, knee-length black skirt her mother had bought her for the occasion and insisted she wore, out of respect. Izzy wouldn’t have given a toss. Taisie sat very straight and didn’t speak. She looked at Tim instead. He was talking to her grandmother, his hand on her arm, and Taisie was filled with an angry longing. It wasn’t Tim’s fault; he wasn’t to know that a delay of even twenty seconds would have had such a tragic result.
Nick said something, and she pulled herself back. ‘What?’
‘I think it was my fault she ran off. We were in the cupboard together, and I scared her. I had one of my nightmares, and she was kissing me, but I was still in the dream, so it was like there was this creature trying to suck the life out of me, and I went crazy.’
She knew all about his nightmares, although she didn’t really believe in his descriptions. Monsters coming out of the cupboard, springing at his face? Yeah, right. He made them up to get attention, and now he was using them as an excuse for what he did to her sister. She sniffed and pressed the pads of her palms into her eyes, trying not to smudge her make-up. It wasn’t her fault, it was his, and he needed to know that.
‘So this is all down to you? Izzy’s dead because of you?’
Nick jerked. ‘What? No. I just mean, she might have been upset because she was embarrassed. I think she had a crush on me.’
‘You mean she trusted you and you abused her. And now you’re laying the blame on her. She never kissed you, Nick. She was a kid. It was you who kissed her. Admit it.’
‘I … No. I didn’t … I didn’t.’ When he went red, his spots literally glowed.
‘You disgust me, Nick Ritchie.’ His face was ashen, but she pressed on, unable to stop the surge of bile. She had to make him think he was the last person to see Izzy alive. ‘You went too far, didn’t you? You—’
‘Hey, you two.’ It was Lorna, holding a glass of wine, her eyes red-rimmed. ‘Don’t hide, sweetie.’ She put her hand on Taisie’s knee. ‘I know it’s difficult, but your mum needs you. You can hand round nibbles if you don’t feel up to talking to anyone.’
Taisie clambered down. She fetched a plate laden with cocktail sausages from the kitchen and wove her way between their guests, listening to snatches of conversation, but mostly people went silent when she approached. After a while Nick wandered over to his mum, but Cora was with some other women, mothers from the school, so he just hovered beside her looking like the spot-encrusted loser he was.
Her throat tightened, and her eyes pricked. She dashed inside and locked herself in the bathroom. There was only one person she wanted to talk to, and that was Tim. She wanted him to hold her, to stroke her, to caress the pain away.