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Later, the four remaining women could fully agree on only two things. One: No-one saw the bushland swallow up Alice Russell. And two: Alice had a mean streak so sharp it could cut you.
Beth wasn’t sure if the others had sensed it, but earlier she had felt the faintest stirrings in the atmosphere. Something base and elemental and almost primitive, where a bit of stale bread and cheese became a prize worth fighting for.
‘Alice is too old now. But she wouldn’t have been back then. How old would she have been when this was all happening? Late teens?’ Carmen tilted the book to better see the photos, the newsprint skin ghostly grey in the torchlight. ‘They’d all be about the same age if they’d lived.’
Someone watches Scott and Bailey
Lauren had slipped out into the hall and hidden in the toilets, staring at the contraception advert on the back of the cubicle door while Rebecca screamed at her. She had not wanted to compare daughters with Alice Russell then, and she certainly did not want to now.
