‘OK,’ Julia says. ‘Here’s the deal. I’ll get them split up. Fast.’ She has no idea how. ‘But you make sure Joanne and whatstheirnames don’t tell anyone he was ever with Selena. You guys can say Joanne dumped him or something, if you want to embarrass him. Selena doesn’t come into it. Ever. None of that gonorrhoea crap, nothing. Deal?’

Gemma thinks it over. Julia says, ‘Or I’ll tell Joanne you told me she thought she was going to marry Chris and have his ickle babies.’

Gemma makes a wry face. ‘OK,’ she says. ‘Deal.’

Julia nods. ‘Deal,’ she says, almost to herself. She wonders if there’s any chance Gemma will stay there, not talking, just being solid and smelling of sticky lip gloss, till they get to school.

The bus pulls up at a stop, rocks under the rush of feet getting on. High excited voices, girls – ‘OhmyGod, you did not just say that, you did not—’

‘See you around,’ Gemma says. She gets up and heaves her weekend bag onto her shoulder. Up front the Colm’s guys see her stand up, and get louder. Just before Gemma swings her hips down the aisle towards them, she smiles at Julia and lifts her hand in a little wave.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The art room was turning chilly. Conway had pulled her chair up the table, next to mine. Bad Cop in the house.

This time she didn’t turn round when Mackey and I came in. Neither did Holly, just kept gouging deep fingernail-curves in her ball of clay and thinking her own things. They hadn’t been listening to each other, not this time; they’d been checking their armour, their weapons, preparing for the moment when we walked back in. Over by the window, the copper-wire school bloomed with a cold shimmer. The moon was high, staring in at us all.

Mackey leaned back on his table again. Every time he shifted, I twitched. All I could think about: what it was, that he was waiting to do. His look, cold and amused, said he hadn’t missed it.

Conway caught my eye, as I sat down beside her. Hers said: Ready. Steady. Go.

She didn’t rewind to where we’d been, to how Holly had to have hated Chris. No point: Mackey had wrecked that moment, nice and thorough. Instead she said, ‘You were right: we’ve narrowed the card down to the eight of you. One of the other seven knows who killed Chris.’

Holly rolled the clay along the table, from hand to hand. ‘Yeah, well. Or at least she says she does.’

‘How do you feel about that?’

Incredulous face. ‘How do I feel ? What is this, Guidance? You want me to draw a picture of my feelings in coloured pencil?’

‘Are you worried?’

‘If I was worried, I wouldn’t have brought you the card to begin with. Duh.’