I expected my parents to return home from their trip early. Martha phoned them to tell them about the disappearance of Eloise March. I know she had to leave several messages before they eventually called back, because I was listening through the walls every time she did. Even so, the disappearance of their daughter’s best friend wasn’t enough of a draw card for them to cut short their trip.

The one-sided conversation I did hear was Martha promising she had it all under control and that I was doing ok considering (although I was pleased to hear Martha make the point that she thought I would appreciate hearing from them).

They never asked to speak to me. In the six weeks they were gone, they never once called to speak to me.

The police interviewed everyone at the party, but since Eloise had returned home after it and her mother saw her the next morning, albeit with a hangover, the events of that night were not linked to her disappearance. If anything, Tina was questioned the most after the altercation in the school car park. She had obvious motive. But the other teenagers all clammed up, said nothing, closed ranks. The police had nothing.

The discovery a few days later of Eloise’s bike on the rocks below the coastal path led to the assumption that she had fallen by accident while out cycling, possibly due to her hangover making her dizzy. They found the pill bottle in her room, which made it look even more like she was unsteady. The police surmised she may have been on her way to my house to talk about the party, but I told the police I never saw her that morning and had made no plans to. They assumed she never reached her destination.

Apart from some questions about the party, Tracey was not interviewed or asked if she saw El the day she disappeared.

And I have not told anyone.

Tracey has not looked at me since it happened. She keeps her distance, as though I am contagious.

School has been a strange place in the last couple of weeks. Sombre faces and silence for the first few days, our group looking lost where once we would’ve been the life and soul of the canteen. Now we are the subject of conjecture and rumour, whispers behind backs and sniggering as we walk past. Stories from the party have swirled around, growing bigger and wilder with every murmured word. Brian, Jason, Steph, Emily and I tried to remain together as a group initially, but without Eloise to glue us together, it seemed lacklustre, aimless, and we realised we didn’t actually like each other after all. Not enough to stand up to the whispering tongues anyway.