“It was awful after she died, you know,” she says into the silence, her usual mocking tone missing. “For the rest of us as well. I had to go back to that fucking school and our parents pissed off again and it was so shit. Did you ever get, for even a second, how crap it was for us?”

My throat goes tight and any warmth I’d been feeling evaporates. “I’d just lost my sister. I was a bit too caught up in grieving to worry about your feelings, funnily enough.”

“God, Tess, I’m not having a dig. She was the best friend I ever had, you know.” She sighs and chucks the pillowcase back onto the bed. “I probably should have come back to visit Julia more, but it was weird, you know?”

I nod. “Yeah. Same for me.”

“Poor Julia. And poor Leo. They’ve had the shittiest time of all, haven’t they? While you and me and Max wallow in our own self-indulgent woe-is-me crap.”

She’s voicing everything I’ve been berating myself about and it startles me to be so on the same page as Lena. I don’t think I like it.

She sighs again and stands up and stretches. “Look, I’m sorry we weren’t here for you and Leo and Julia. And sorry I was such a bitch in the car on the way down. It’s freaking me out, coming back here. Anxiety makes me bitchy.” She pauses and smiles. “Bitchier.”

Apology or not, I’m not sure how long I’ll last in a room with Lena without it ending up in an argument. I glance toward the window. I can’t see the woods from here, but I know they’re there. Time to rip the bandage off. If I’m going to stay here and be with Dad and Julia, I can’t be throwing up or passing out every time I see a bloody tree.

“I think I’ll go for a walk.”

The wind has picked up, moaning through the trees behind the house. I zip my coat to the top and tuck my scarf in tight. My phone buzzes as I step away from the house and get a mobile signal again. I have two new voicemails. It could be Sophie, checking to see if I’m okay, full of plans for nights out when I get back. But what if it’s Karen, what if Rebecca’s parents have decided to press charges? I haven’t let myself think of that. I’ve accepted that in all likelihood I’ll be fired, yes. But being charged? Arrested? A police record? I put my phone back in my pocket, letting it be Schrödinger’s cat for a while—my future both dead and alive at the same time until I listen to the messages.