Chapter Thirty-One

Walking down the corridor of her old school, it wasn't so much the look of the place as the remembered smell that took Cassie back to her time here. Girl sweat and plimsoll rubber, the waft of vintage cooking oil and boiled veg from the canteen, and the high reek of teenage angst – a potent mix that made her anxiety levels spike. Incredibly, it had been more than a decade since she'd left Camden High, trailing a history of misdemeanours and an academic performance that had disappointed her grandmother and teachers alike.

A few minutes later, averting her eyes from the detention suite, she found the door that was still marked ‘Althea M. Knowles. School Nurse' and after a moment of hesitation knocked softly.

When it was opened by the woman everyone had called Mrs K, Cassie – feeling flustered – put out a hand in greeting.

‘Get here, girl!' she said laughing, folding Cassie in a warm bear hug that smelled of camomile and Pears soap, stirring up such a mix of memories it made Cassie's eyes burn. It had been weirdly comforting to discover on the school website that Mrs K was still here.

Inside, the smell of TCP reminded Cassie of her own bit of nursing on Ethan's cut face – a little flutter in her chest at the memory.

Mrs K sat her down in her tiny office, and putting her head on one side, frankly, smilingly surveyed her. ‘Still got that alternative thing going on I see. Suits you.' Then her smile faded and she shook her head. ‘How terrible what happened to Sophia. We were so proud of her, and for her life to be cut short, and in such a way .?.?.'

‘I know,' said Cassie, feeling the weight of it pressing down on her again. ‘She was twenty-seven, the same age as me.'

Mrs K reached out and clasped Cassie's hand, those kind eyes she remembered seeking hers. ‘How are you doing? It's very tough, very upsetting, the first time you lose somebody your own age.'

Death had been Cassie's lifelong companion, not just the roll call of bodies at the mortuary, but people she had loved – her mother .?.?. her teacher .?.?. her best friend . But Mrs K was right: Bronte was the first person of her own age to die and the shock of it still reverberated through her like the echo of that guitar chord.

‘Did you two stay in touch after leaving?' asked Mrs K.

Cassie shook her head. ‘To tell you the truth, we weren't even friends at school.'

‘No?' The gentle prompts she was always so good at. Cassie had suffered with her periods when she was fourteen, fifteen, and had spent many an hour in Mrs K's sanctuary – getting painkillers, sometimes being put to bed in the one-bed sick bay next door with a hot-water bottle. She might sometimes have exaggerated her symptoms just to get a break from the gladiatorial bitch-fest that was Year 10 – and she'd had a hunch that Mrs K knew it.

Cassie drew a deep breath and blew it out. ‘I did something .?.?. bad.'

Mrs K just gave Cassie's hand a squeeze and waited for her to go on.

‘We both got bullied in Year 10, Sophia and me, for being .?.?. different.' Seeing her rueful look of understanding, Cassie remembered that back then Mrs K had been one of only two black women on the staff – the other being the geography teacher.

‘Different how?'

‘Oh you know, I didn't have a mum and dad, just a Polish granny who everyone made fun of. Sophia's family was Greek – and loaded – and sometimes she could come across as kind of stuck-up.'

‘Young people can be very narrow-minded. At that age it's all about fitting in, isn't it?'

Cassie nodded miserably. Extracting her hand from Mrs Knowles's warm grasp she started to twist her lip ring through the piercing. ‘So the two of us were always getting slagged off by the mean girls for the food in our lunch boxes – you know, Greek and Polish stuff. I got off more lightly than Sophia because she stood up to them and I didn't.' Twisting the piercing so hard it hurt. ‘Anyway, one day we were in the showers after gym. You remember they used to have those cubicles with no doors?'

They shared a look. ‘Ridiculous,' said Mrs K, drawing herself up. ‘I used to tell the head, growing girls are self-conscious and they need privacy .'

‘So, Sophia and I were the last two showering next door to each other.' She felt sick remembering it. ‘I heard giggling and whispering in the changing room and I knew something was going on.' Closing her eyes, she pictured the scene, jerkily cut like a horror movie.

A thin but piercing scream. Cassie coming out, wrapping herself in her towel. Sophia staggering backwards, naked, out of her cubicle, hand to her mouth. Following her stare to the tiled floor. Taking a moment to work out what's lying there. A doner kebab, the pitta bread splayed, slices of grey meat, salad spilled onto the wet floor. The shower is still on and a thread of what looks like blood is running down the drain hole. Kylie, the ringleader of the bullies, jeers, ‘What's wrong, Dobby? Too much chilli sauce?'

As Cassie related the story Mrs K's hand went to her mouth, her head shaking in disbelief.

‘How dreadful.'

‘Yeah, can you imagine going to all that trouble, buying a kebab and smuggling it in?'

‘It was another jibe at her difference, her Greekness, right?'

A nod. ‘Anyway, Sophia totally lost it, started making a weird noise and shaking all over. I saw that they'd hidden her towel so she had to stand there stark naked.'

Now Kylie's piggy gaze swivels towards Cassie. ‘What's up with you Ca-Ca-Cassie? I didn't know you and Dobby were ‘ friends' – using the mocking sing-song everyone knew from The Inbetweeners . Are you a lezza too?'

Twisting her lip ring faster, Cassie blew out a harsh breath. ‘I could've given her my towel, or gone to get another towel. Or just told that bitch Kylie to shut the fuck up .?.?. But you know what I did? I just walked away.'