by P. R. Black
‘Yeah, well, about two o’clock…’
‘Tea for us both, soon as you like. Milk and no sugar for Georgia, is that right?’
‘It’s no problem if you’re busy,’ Georgia averred, catching a sullen look from the young man. ‘I won’t take up too much time.’
Adrienne’s office was as advertised, a glass booth set into a far wall with a decent view out the window over the slated rooftops of the campus. Georgia didn’t like the feeling of exposure. She wondered if it would get too hot on an especially sunny day.
Georgia took a seat facing Adrienne over two mugs of tea. Adrienne faced her, hands folded on the desktop, absurdly formal-looking. Georgia had a feeling she had been invited in to the headmistress’s office.
‘I love what you’ve done with your eyes,’ Adrienne said. ‘You’ve gone for a natural look. What is it you’re using?’
Georgia thought of the ochre stains on some wipes in her purse. ‘Just a little bit of concealer. Blurs the lines. Best you can hope for at this age, I’m afraid.’
The younger woman reached over and took her hand. ‘Knock it off – you’re gorgeous,’ she said. She held on for an absurdly long time, then said: ‘To bring you up to date,’ Adrienne said, ‘we’ve got a new event for the campaign. I’ve set it in stone – it comes out every year for the anniversary, until we get a result. “Bring Steph back home”. I hope you don’t mind the contraction?’
‘Contraction? Sorry?’
‘Steph. I truncated the name. Diminutive. Makes it more informal. Like someone you would know. Even if you don’t.’
‘Oh, I see – no, that’s fine, I’m all for that. I know most of her friends called her “Steph”.’
‘We’re having a get-together in the centre of town. Nothing major, just a desk set up, with some flyers posted over town, with all the usual social media suspects. The union sprung a few quid for us, and the local council’s helping, too.’
‘That’s superb – thank you so much. Every little helps.’
‘And get this: the Megiddos are coming to do a little set. Just the two of them, an acoustic number. That guarantees some national press coverage, too. Keeps it fresh.’
‘They sound like a band… Should I know them?’
Adrienne’s mouth twitched. ‘They’re going to be huge. It’s all happened for them really quickly, but they’re on a steep trajectory. They had an album just outside the top ten, but they’re going places. Played at Glastonbury.’
‘I’m so sorry – this is the thing about getting old. The last X Factor winner I can remember was Leona Lewis. I still think U2 are a kind of newish band.’
‘Didn’t one of them die recently?’
‘What? U2? I hope not.’
‘Anyway. Yeah, the Megs. Local boys done good. You know that Riley was a classmate of ours?’
‘Riley Brightman, you mean? Yes, I know about that lad. I think he even sent us a letter. Beautiful handwriting, I recall. And GPs appreciate good handwriting.’
Adrienne was perhaps too young to appreciate jokes about doctors’ illegible script, but she smiled anyway. ‘So, what brings you here today? I’m assuming you’re not just here for a couple of drinks and a dance… but I can do that too, if you like?’
‘I wanted to talk a little bit about a couple of loose ends, really. I won’t take too long.’
‘OK.’ Not one change in her demeanour.
‘I spoke with Martin Duke earlier on today.’
‘The Duke of Dull! Poor lad. How is he?’
‘Thriving, it seems. He’ll be in his last year – same as you?’
‘That’s right. After that summer, it was strange… He came back fat. A strange one, given all he’d been through.’
‘Depression can do all sorts of things to people. You’d be surprised.’
‘Would I now?’ She said this a little too quickly. This was the Adrienne that Georgia remembered – spiky enough, love. ‘It’s a shame. People know about him as The Boyfriend. People will talk. And they do talk. I’m sure you had your doubts about him after what happened to… well, when Steph disappeared – everyone did.’
Georgia said nothing.
‘But the police completely cleared him. He was at a do with the writing society that night. The Hephaestians. Witnesses, social media, the lot. You still get people who think he might just have been able to sneak away. There’s a five-minute window where people think he could have gotten into a car, you know… I doubt that, myself.’
‘I doubt Martin Duke had much to do with Stephanie. Full stop.’
‘What do you mean, full stop?’
‘I have my doubts that Martin and my daughter were even a couple.’
‘They spent a lot of time together,’ Adrienne said, and sniffed.
‘I think you know as well as I do that a lot of what he said was a sham.’
‘I do believe they had their moments. I was there for a few of them.’
‘I am led to believe they had a bit of a drunken fumble one night. Then after that, he attached himself to her like a puppy. What I need to know from you is whether or not they were actually lovers, or whether he was just some sad case who trailed around after my daughter.’
Adrienne laughed. ‘Well… you’re not talking about a lot of time here, really… Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know.’
‘Did they sleep together, Adrienne? That’s what I’m asking you.’
‘A drunken fumble, like you said. It caused a big scandal at the time. Kids. You know.’
‘A fumble. Yeah, that ties in with what I heard. So it’s true, then – they weren’t really an item?’
‘What’s an item?’ Adrienne cocked an eyebrow. ‘I remember them being cuddled up together in the park, one day. Seemed cosy enough, to me. If they weren’t together, they could have fooled everyone else. Everyone said how good they looked. As a pair.’
‘They weren’t together. I’m pretty sure of it.’
‘So why are you asking me, then?’
Georgia cleared her throat. ‘It’s an inconsistency in what I was told. It’s something that doesn’t add up. That means it’s worth investigating. I want everything checked. To look at what he said at the press conference… to read what he said in the papers – and I’ve read it all – you’d think they were inseparable lovers. I don’t think that’s the truth, and I find that interesting. Anything that doesn’t add up in this case is interesting. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Adrienne?’
‘What… being interesting?’
‘No. Being in love. The real stuff, I mean. Have you had a proper boyfriend by now?’
‘That’s a bit frank of you, Georgia. But I’ll answer you. Yes. One or two.’
‘Then you’ll know the difference between a lover and someone you had a drunken fumble with. And you’ll know the value of investigating things that don’t add up, don’t you? Especially in your line of work. You’re going places, aren’t you? Be blind not to see it. I can see you turning up on the telly, you know. Ah, don’t look so modest,’ Georgia added, more kindly. ‘I’ve seen that article in the Telegraph. That’s a feather in your cap, for a student.’
Adrienne actually blushed. ‘It was something worthwhile. Something I like to do.’
‘A bold idea. People trafficking? Here? Who knew there was such a sleazy underbelly in a town like this? I guess it goes on everywhere. You just have to know where to look.’
‘I was worried about those girls. You know how it is.’ She shrugged.
‘They must really like your work, to give a gig like that to a student. A two-page spread!’
‘I’m going to join their traineeship after I finish.’
‘It’s a great paper. Or it used to be, last time I read papers. Isn’t everything online, now?’
‘They still do all right,’ Adrienne said, a trifle sharply. ‘So. Apart from Steph and the Duke of Dull’s little dalliance, was there anything else you wanted checking?’
‘Yeah. Who’s Cor
nfed?’
‘Who?’
‘Corn… fed. Written like one word. Cornfed. It’s a pet name I’ve discovered.’
‘As part of your inquiries?’
The term was clotted with sarcasm, and there was no mistaking the coldness between them, now. Adrienne was sat perfectly still, perfectly composed, but there was something in this comportment that repelled any sense of warmth. She doesn’t like this, Georgia thought. She’s not exactly defensive, but this is not a comfortable experience. ‘Yes. I’ve looked into one or two things. Cornfed was a lad who Stephanie was involved with. Someone she was very keen on indeed.’
‘Really?’ Adrienne sat forward. ‘I have to say that name means nothing to me. And I didn’t know she was seeing someone else. Was this when she was with Martin?’
‘As I say, I don’t think she was with Martin. Not the same way she was with Cornfed.’
‘This is news. I’m intrigued. Any details?’
‘Just that he was a brilliant singer.’
‘Oh.’ Adrienne swallowed. ‘That could cover a lot of bases.’
‘That he’s a music star in the making. A lyricist first. I imagine someone blond and handsome – solid. Someone you could see mucking out on a farm, instead of hitting the library. That’s what Cornfed suggests to me. Does that ring any bells?’
Adrienne focused on the far corner. ‘Search me. Only contender is Riley Brightman, of course. You know – the Megiddos. The letter writer. You’ll meet him at the fundraiser. He’s in town the next few nights, in fact.’
‘The… what were they called again?’
‘The Megiddos. There’s two of them, but Riley’s the singer.’
‘Riley Brightman…’ Georgia made her spell it, taking notes in a journal she’d bought at the stationer’s on Hopkirk Road.
‘But – I strongly doubt it’s Riley Brightman.’
Georgia’s pen stopped on the page. ‘Whyever not?’
‘Because Steph and Riley weren’t… well, they weren’t on the same page.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, you know… They say opposites attract, but this kind of thing isn’t true in real life. Riley was a big character, even before the record deal. He was a star, everyone could see it; people notice him. And Steph was…’ She scrambled to save the situation. ‘What I mean to say was – look, Steph was hardly one of life’s extroverts. You must know what I’m getting at. She was… is, a lovely girl, once you got to know her. But she wasn’t the type to live her life at the end of a loudspeaker, you know? God knows, you had to light a fire under her to get her to speak at tutorials. Not that she was timid; she was just quiet.’
‘That’s a fair comment. It seems to me like you’re saying that this Riley lad was too good for her.’
‘Not at all,’ Adrienne said, genuinely appalled. ‘She was too good for him. I don’t think Riley was the kind of lad she would have enjoyed being with. I just can’t see them together. And I would have known, if they were.’
‘Clever like that, are you?’
‘We were besties. Besties don’t have secrets.’
‘Oh, but they do.’ Georgia leaned forward in her seat. ‘She does say that you were good friends, that’s true. But things got a bit awkward when she got together with Cornfed.’
‘Sorry, go back a bit, Georgia… when you say, “she does say”, what do you mean? In a letter, an email… phone messages? What?’
‘Some correspondence that I found recently. She says that you were really into Cornfed in a major way. She felt guilty when she got together with Cornfed. But she said she couldn’t help it. She said that for all his bluster, he’s charming. That wasn’t quite the word… beguiling, that was the term. A very beguiling person. And he certainly showed interest in her, however it appeared to you. She was flattered, and she was very keen on him in return. But she was keen to keep what happened between them away from you. This wasn’t just for the sake of concealment – she was worried about how you would take it. Now, you say it isn’t this Riley person, the lad in the band. Have you any idea who else it could be?’
Adrienne’s mouth twitched. Her eyes locked with Georgia’s for so long, and so intensely, that Georgia began to fear an explosion was coming. But at length she said: ‘Honestly, I’ve no idea.’
‘OK.’ Georgia tapped the notepad. ‘There’s one or two other things Steph mentioned… about you.’
‘This is intriguing. Just to be clear, though, Georgia – you’ve been to the police with all this?’
‘Oh yeah. Don’t worry, I’m no Nancy Drew. Well… maybe I am. I’m just curious. I want to figure one or two things out for myself; I won’t do the police’s job for them. But I want to look at something Steph mentioned, about this project she’d set up for herself.’ Georgia gestured expansively. ‘It was nothing to do with her course – more to do with a personal project she had. Something she just wanted to write about. Information she wanted to pass on. She’s such a great writer, you know. About everything and nothing – plays, little stories, outlines for novels. I think that was her calling. Later on, though, she got really into non-fiction. A lot of it was just observational stuff. Then she started writing about some of the girls who work in The Strand. That’s the red light district, isn’t it? She wanted to write about some of the women who worked there. She spoke to a girl from Kosovo who was on the street there. Does that ring any bells, Adrienne?’
‘Of course it does. You read the Telegraph report.’
‘I did. Fascinating stuff. Only, it looked very close to an idea for a feature Steph wanted to write. Very close to the one I read in the Telegraph, in fact. She’d already done quite a bit of work on it.’
Adrienne folded her arms. Some colour had flooded her cheekbones. ‘What are you implying?’
‘I’m implying nothing, Adrienne. Just stating facts. This working girl she knew… it seems she had a nickname, too. Curly Sue. Do you know who Curly Sue is?’
‘No idea.’
‘Shame. If it jogs your memory, or you find anything in your contacts book – do let me know, won’t you?’
‘I’ll get right onto it.’ Adrienne drummed her fingers. Her cheeks were still red. ‘I really hate to be a nuisance, but we put this month’s paper to bed in a couple of days. That’s why it seems almost busy in here. We can catch up later, maybe? I do hate to chase you out.’
‘Don’t worry. I totally understand. Thanks for your time.’
As Georgia got up to leave, Adrienne bit her lip, then said: ‘About this Cornfed… I might have an idea who it is.’
‘Go on.’
‘Did she definitely say it was a student?’
‘Definitely someone attached to her classes. Someone very clever and knowledgeable.’
‘Not a lecturer, by any chance?’
‘Could be, now you mention it. Though the fact that she didn’t outright mention it made me discount it. But you could be right. It was someone who spoke in tutorials very well.’
‘The man you might want to speak to is Tony Sillars. He was plain Mr Sillars back then, but since then he’s become Dr Sillars. He was one of the lecturers. Specialising in contemporary novels. He’s corn-fed, all right. That’s a good description. Wish I’d thought of it.’
‘A lecturer? With Steph?’ Now it was Georgia’s turn to sound incredulous. ‘Isn’t that illegal?’
‘Frowned upon, but not illegal… He’s only about three years older, or something, before you freak out.’
‘Even so… It’s unlikely. I don’t get the impression Cornfed was on the teaching staff. Were they…?’
‘Lovers? Like proper lovers, not quick-fumble lovers? I don’t know. It wasn’t for lack of trying on Steph’s part. That’s my honest opinion.’
Georgia wanted to argue with this, but she reined in her response. ‘Thank you. I’ll check that out.’
‘Sorry, that’s the only tip I’ve got. Her and Riley… believe me, it’s just out of the question.’
‘I�
��ll take your word for it.’ Georgia got to her feet. ‘Thanks, Adrienne.’ Their handshake was formal, and there were no hugs. ‘I’ll look forward to the benefit show, it sounds amazing. Do you have a contact number for the Megiddos?’
‘Sure. But you can meet the Megiddos tomorrow – they’re up at the union, giving us an interview. You can come along and say hello.’
Georgia took one last note. As she put her journal back into her handbag, Adrienne asked: ‘Did Steph have a pet name for me? Just out of interest.’
‘She did.’ Georgia zipped the bag closed. ‘Magpie. I’ll be seeing you, Adrienne.’
5
URGENT APPEAL OVER MISSING STUDENT
By Amanda Rees, PA news agency
Police have appealed for witnesses after an 18-year-old student went missing on a remote stretch of road during stormy weather.
Stephanie Healey vanished last Friday night after apparently going out alone for a walk along a rural route just outside Ferngate.
She was last seen making her way along the A928 road, close to Ferngate Bridge.
The road has no footway for long sections and police are said to be combing the area for any sign of the teenager. Police divers are also assisting the search in the River Dalton.
A first-year student of communication and media studies at Ferngate University, Stephanie’s disappearance during bad weather is said to have been out of character.
The 19-year-old, who is originally from Manchester, is described as 5ft11in, with short-cropped dark hair, dark eyes and a fair complexion.
At the time of her disappearance, Stephanie is thought to have been wearing a light green military-style jacket, blue jeans and sturdy hiking boots.
Senior investigating officer Detective Inspector Neal Hurlford, of Ferngate police, said: ‘While Stephanie’s disappearance is out of character, we would like to stress that we are keeping an open mind as to her whereabouts.
‘At the moment there is nothing to suggest foul play, although the investigation is fast-moving and liable to change at any moment.