Trust No Bitch: Part 1

Clara Wright

Clara had watched them all come and go.

First Lilly, then Gemma, then herself, and lastly Alice. So far, each interview had been about 20 minutes. According to Alice, whose father was a lawyer, the fact that the lead detective on the case, March, had ended each interview with a promise to see them again shortly was not a good sign.

"She seems interested, like she thinks we have more to give. Like we're holding stuff back or something." Gemma had muttered after her interview, Lilly's mouth dropping open as Gemma spoke. Her blue eyes were wide, darting from Gemma back to her flawless manicure, which she picked at nervously. They were sat in a waiting room of sorts, square, barren and achromatic aside from a tattered sofa and small window on one of the walls from which the dwindling sunlight was coruscating. It was like a pathetic fallacy: for all this time, Cleo's fate had been murky, and unclear and now the truth was glaring them all in the face, with a clarity so harsh that it was blinding.

It had been a lot, the last 3 hours.

Clara had wept uncontrollably into each of the other three's arms, and then gone home and wept into Fiona's and Charlie's, and then into her own hands in the car on the way to the station. But the second she exited her mum's car, as if a switch had flicked, her tears stopped. There was a single sniff, she wiped her eyes, and then nothing. Like she had popped her top, unleashing all the grief in one go leaving only emptiness behind. Clara appeared unruffled, impassive; she did not look like a devastated best friend. 

If you don't, will they suspect you? Clara was already beginning to worry what kind of angle the police were going to take. There really were so many ways they could go, many ways in which she knew they could weave her into their version of events.

She had secretly considered poking herself in the eye as she had entered the station. After all, tears were probably what was expected of them. However, upon arriving in the waiting room she observed that Gemma and Alice were also relatively composed. Alice was pacing back and forth about the room, her arms crossed, and Gemma was sprawled across a threadbare teal sofa.

"We could just come clean about the last time we saw her." Gemma was murmuring, staring up at Alice.

"And drag everybody else at that party's names through the mud? We weren't supposed to be there! It was on private property, Gemma. Tell them that now and it will raise really, really awkward questions and unless the idea of incriminating everyone else and having them all hauled in here sounds appealing to you then it's probably best that we keep quiet." Alice hissed in reply, exasperated. Both of their heads jerked towards the door as Clara entered, their eyes wide and jaws set.

"Clara!" Alice cried, walking swiftly towards her and throwing her arms around Clara in a tight hug. She let go and held her by the shoulders so she could see Clara's face. "Are you feeling any better?" She asked, her brown eyes crinkling in concern. Clara nodded with a sigh.

"I'm fine. Where's Lilly?" She queried, sitting down next to Gemma, who was now sat legs together with her elbows balancing on her lap, massaging her temples.

"Just in-" Gemma began to reply, gesturing briefly towards a foreboding steel door, but she was cut short as the door fully opened. Lilly, in a whirlwind of pastels, was the one stumbling out of it. She too dropped her handbag, approached Clara, and hugged her again.

"I know how special Cleo was to you, Clara." She said dolefully, putting her head on Clara's shoulder and clutching one of Clara's hands between her own. She felt Lilly's warm touch on her skin and almost burst into tears again; her entire body was gelid.

"Thanks, Lilly." Clara smiled, resuming a expressionless countenance. Lilly nodded and then turned to the other girls.

"You're next, Gem." She said, gathering her stuff up.