Page 175 of A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

‘No can do.’ He shook his head, eyeing her mouth.

Pip looked away quickly, her long dark hair a curtain between them. Her frustration was too loud, gorging itself on all other thoughts. He wasn’t going to budge, was he?

And then the spark of an idea pushed its way through.

‘Well, how can I buy through you?’ she said, taking the joint from his hands. ‘You don’t even have my number.’

‘Ah, and what a shame that is,’ Stephen said, his voice so slimy it practically dripped out of his mouth. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Jabbing his finger at the screen, he entered his passcode and handed her the unlocked phone. ‘Put your digits in there,’ he said.

‘OK,’ said Pip.

She opened the phonebook application and shifted her shoulders, facing Stephen so he couldn’t see the screen. She typedhowinto the contacts search bar and it was the only result to pop up.Howie Bowersand his phone number.

She studied the sequence of numbers. Damn, she’d never be able to remember the whole thing. Another idea flickered into life. Maybe she could take a picture of the screen; her own phone was on the wall just beside her. But Stephen was right there, staring at her, chewing his finger. She needed some kind of distraction.

She lurched forward suddenly, launching the joint across the lawn. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I thought there was a bug on me.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’ Stephen jumped down from the wall.

Pip had just a few seconds. She grabbed her phone, swiped left into the camera and positioned it above Stephen’s screen.

Her heart was thudding, her chest closing uncomfortably around it.

The camera flicked in and out of focus, wasting precious time.

Her finger hovered over the button.

The shot cleared and she took the picture, dropping her phone into her lap just as Stephen turned.

‘It’s still lit,’ he said, jumping back up on the wall, sitting far too close to her.

Pip held out Stephen’s phone to him. ‘Um, sorry, I don’t think I want to give you my number actually,’ she said. ‘I’ve decided that drugs aren’t for me.’

‘Don’t be a tease,’ Stephen said, closing his fingers round both his phone and Pip’s hand. He leaned into her.

‘No, thank you,’ she said, scooting back. ‘Think I’m going to go inside.’

And then Stephen put his hand on the back of her head, grabbed her forward and lunged for her face. Pip twisted out of the way and shoved him back. She pushed so hard that he was deseated and fell three feet from the garden wall, sprawled on the wet grass.

‘You stupid slut,’ he said, picking himself up and wiping off his trousers.

‘You degenerate, perverted, reprobate ape. Sorry, apes,’ Pip shouted back. ‘I said no.’

That was when she realized. She didn’t know how or when it had happened, but she looked up and saw that they were now alone in the garden.

Fear flushed through her in an instant, her skin bristling with it.

Stephen climbed back over the wall and Pip turned, hurrying towards the door.

‘Hey, it’s OK, we can talk for a bit more,’ he said, grabbing her wrist to pull her back.

‘Let me go, Stephen.’ She spat the words at him.

‘But –’

Pip grabbed his wrist with her other hand and squeezed, digging her nails into his skin. Stephen hissed and let go and Pip did not hesitate. She ran towards the house and slammed the door, flicking the lock behind her.

Inside, she wound her way through the crowd on the makeshift Persian-rug dance floor, being jostled this way and that. She searched through the flailing body parts and sweaty laughing faces. Searching for the safety of Cara’s face.

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