‘I didn’t say I didn’t want to,’ Abby said. ‘I’m just trying to work it out in my head, that’s all.’
‘Who knows the code for the alarm?’ Ger asked. ‘It had been switched off, right?’
‘Or Charlotte forgot to turn it on before she went out,’ Abby said.
‘According to the statement she gave last night,’ Ellen said, ‘the only people who know the code are Charlotte herself, Nick and their Polish cleaner who comes every day. Nick and the cleaner both have alibis. He was at the restaurant till late. Plenty of witnesses. The cleaner was at a Polish club until midnight.’
‘What about Freya?’ Ger asked.
‘Good point,’ Abby said. ‘Why don’t we ask her? Ellen and I are going over there later.’
‘Why later?’ Ger said. ‘Can’t you go now?’
‘Emer Dawson’s on her way to the station,’ Abby said. ‘Kieran’s sister, remember? She flew in from her holiday early this morning. She’s due here in half an hour.’
‘I’ve got an appointment with Pat’s counsellor,’ Ellen said. ‘So I was wondering, would you mind meeting Emer without me? I won’t be long with the counsellor and we can go across to Freya’s together after that?’
Abby’s face flushed a pretty shade of pink.
‘Of course I wouldn’t mind. Thanks, Ellen.’
Ger pushed her chair back and stood up.
‘What say we finish this conversation across the road? I could kill one of Danilo’s extra strong coffees. Jamala’s organised a press conference for later today. I’m going to need some severe caffeine inside me to get through that.’
‘Mind if I don’t come?’ Ellen said. ‘I’ve got this appointment. Don’t want to be late.’
Ger nodded. ‘Of course. Give me a call later. Abby?’
The three women left the office together. Ellen watched Ger and Abby walk together along the corridor to the lift at the end. Ger leaned towards Abby and said something that made Abby laugh. Something uncomfortable settled in Ellen’s stomach, heavy like a stone.
The lift doors slid open and Ger stepped back, motioning for Abby to go first. Inside the lift, the two women stood side by side, facing Ellen. Abby waved before the doors closed and she disappeared. Ellen could hear her, still laughing, the sound echoing back along the empty corridor to where she stood. Until eventually the laughter was gone too.
When she could no longer hear Abby, Ellen turned and walked the other way, trying not to think about why she suddenly felt so lonely.
Six
Larry Paxman, Pat’s counsellor, worked from the ground floor of a converted warehouse building in a narrow street behind the river in Rotherhithe. Ellen found a parking space near the underground station and walked from there. She had an umbrella with her but as she approached Larry’s office she barely needed it. The tall buildings either side seemed to lean across the street towards each other, leaving only the narrowest strip of sky above. Ellen had first come here on a sunny day in early winter. The white light had cast long shadows that zigzagged across the street, giving it character and atmosphere. Today, it just felt miserable.
Inside, she was greeted by Larry’s receptionist who brought her straight into his office.
‘Ellen.’ Larry shook her hand and sat down on a low, comfy-looking armchair. ‘Take a seat.’
She sat opposite him and waited.
The room was painted daffodil yellow. Walls covered in children’s paintings. Two red plastic boxes in the corner, both overflowing with toys. It was a welcome contrast to the rest of the world.
‘Pat’s doing well,’ Larry said. ‘It took a while, but I think we’re really making progress. He’s a bright kid, but you already know that, right?’
‘It’s difficult to be objective when it’s your own child,’ Ellen said.
Larry smiled. ‘I know that. But he really is. He’s not just academically bright, either. There’s a real emotional intelligence there, too. Of course, this means he’s very sensitive to everything that’s happened, which can sometimes have a negative effect. But it also means he’s very good at articulating how he feels about things. And that’s one of the things that’s helping right now.’
‘He feels everything so deeply,’ she said. ‘It makes him vulnerable. I’m so worried, you see, that he won’t be able to get past this. That it will stop him getting on with his life and doing all the amazing things I know he’s capable of doing.’
She was talking too much. Like she used to in the counselling sessions she’d had after the Billy Dunston incident. What was it about these people that made her do that? It was their silence, she decided. She looked at Larry, looking at her. He had a kind face. Watery blue eyes and a white beard. A completely bald head. So bald that she guessed he must shave it to get it so smooth.
Like he knew what she was thinking, Larry rubbed his hand along the top of his shiny head. Embarrassed, Ellen looked away quickly.
‘Is that what you wanted to see me about?’ Larry asked.
‘Sort of,’ Ellen said, still not looking at him. Staring instead at a picture on the wall. A child’s drawing of a face. Impossible to know if it was a man or a woman. Just a circle with two dots for eyes and a curved line for a smiling mouth. Either side of the face, the imprint from a child’s hands that had been dipped in green paint.
‘Is that supposed to mean something?’ She pointed at the picture.
‘Do you want it to mean anything?’ Larry asked.
She glared at him, only realising it was a joke when she saw he was smiling.
‘Lots of the younger kids I see draw pictures for me,’ he said. ‘I like to put them up so I can see them. It reminds me why I do this.’
‘How much longer will you need to see him?’ she asked.
‘It’s hard to tell,’ Larry said. ‘Like I said, he’s making really good progress. Listen, Ellen, am I missing something? Until today, I got the impression you were pretty happy with how we were doing. If there’s a reason you want the sessions to end, then please tell me. If you’re not satisfied, that’s okay. It happens sometimes. I can help you find another counsellor if that’s what you want.’
‘No,’ Ellen said. ‘It’s not that. Sorry, Larry. I got a letter from his new school this morning. You know he’s starting secondary school in September?’
Larry nodded.
‘There’s a parents’ evening coming up,’ Ellen continued. ‘I have to go along in a month’s time to find out all about the school and what his curriculum will be like and what sports he’ll be playing and God knows what else. And I can’t stop wondering, what if he’s not ready?’
‘For what?’ Larry asked.
‘Secondary school,’ Ellen said. ‘It’s only a few months away. I know it’s a good school and everything. And of course I’m going to tell them that he’ll need special attention and they’ll need to take extra care of him but even still, he’s so little and he’s been through so much already. Maybe I should keep him back a year. It wouldn’t do him any harm to have another year in primary school, would it? I mean, he loves it there and it’s a safe environment and …’
‘Ellen.’
She stopped speaking. Realised – too late – that she’d been babbling like a fool again.
‘He’ll be fine.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘I do know that keeping him back would be a huge mistake,’ Larry said. ‘He needs to carry on living his life as normal. Yes, he had a terrible experience. But he’s dealing with it. He’s a clever, resilient boy and he’s doing fine. Terrible things happen in life. We can’t avoid that. What we can do is give ourselves the tools, the mental strength, to deal with the bad stuff when it happens. That’s what we’re doing with Pat right now. Okay?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak straightaway. Larry was right. You couldn’t protect anyone from the shit life threw at you. No matter how much you wanted to.
She left soon after that, thanking Larry and promising she’
d try harder not to worry so much. Outside, the rain had stopped and shafts of sunlight cut down through the gaps in the tall buildings, creating pools of light in the narrow street.
Ellen didn’t go straight back to the car. Instead, she turned right and walked to the river. The tide was in and the water was high. A cold wind blew across the water, rippling the surface and creating small waves that caught hold of the sunshine so that the river seemed to sparkle and dance with every gust of wind.
* * *
Charlotte sat on the sofa, legs tucked underneath her, watching Nick pace around the place like a deranged caged beast.
‘I wish you’d sit down,’ she said. ‘You’re making it impossible for me to relax. And you know what the doctor said. I need complete rest for the next forty-eight hours.’
‘Sorry.’ He sat on the sofa opposite. ‘It’s difficult, that’s all. So much has happened over the last few days, I can’t get my head around it. Jesus, Charlie, when the police came to the restaurant earlier, I thought, Christ … first Kieran, now this. Tell me again what happened?’
So she went through it all again. And waited for him to accuse her of being drunk and falling by herself. But he didn’t do that. Hadn’t done it once, in fact, since he’d arrived at the hospital to bring her home. She wondered why he was being so nice. Not that she was complaining. She only wished she’d worked out earlier what she needed to do to get him to pay her a bit of attention.
She shifted on the sofa, wincing more than she needed to when the movement caused pain. Immediately, he was on his feet and rushing across to help her.
‘I’m fine.’ She smiled, following it up with a grimace, as if the pain was too much for her. ‘I’m so glad you’re here now. I don’t think I’d feel safe, being here on my own. Not after what happened.’
He looked away and a surge of pure hatred rose up inside her. The bastard. She wondered whether he’d say it now or wait until later.
‘I was so scared,’ she said, before he had a chance to speak. ‘I thought I was going to die, Nick. All I could think of was Kieran and what had happened to him. I was certain the killer had come back.’
She turned her head away, as if she couldn’t bear for him to see her crying. He crouched down beside her, took her face with his hand and used his thumb to rub her tears away. No need for him to know they were tears of rage, not fear.
‘It must have been awful,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I worked late and didn’t want to wake you. If I’d known what had happened, I’d have been here in an instant.’
‘You’re here now, darling,’ she said. ‘That’s all that matters.’
A hesitation. He was so bloody transparent. She watched him pretending to grapple with his conscience, waited for him to come to the inevitable conclusion.
‘Darling,’ he began, ‘I’m so very sorry.’
‘Don’t,’ she said.
‘It’s just, we’re at such a crucial stage with the new restaurant,’ he continued, determined to have his say whether it was what she wanted or not. ‘I can’t afford to let up, not even for an afternoon.’
‘Not even for me, you mean.’
She wanted him gone. His betrayal was worse because he’d been acting so kind. Like he really cared about her. When all the time he was thinking about how he could get away. She wanted to ask him if it was the restaurant or his latest little tart that he couldn’t keep away from, but there was no point. Besides, if she stayed dignified, maybe she could make him feel bad at least.
‘I know how important it is,’ she said. ‘It’s your work and I respect that. But I’m so scared, Nick. Surely you wouldn’t leave me alone after what’s happened. Would you?’
He was up again, pacing the room worse than ever. Speaking fast, the way he always did when he wanted to get his own way.
‘I’ve already spoken with the police,’ he gabbled. ‘They’ve got someone keeping an eye on the house. I’ll get onto Pete, too. Ask him if we could borrow one of his boys for the night.’
‘I will not share my house with one of Pete Cooper’s thugs,’ Charlotte said.
‘They won’t have to come inside,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll arrange for them to park out front. Stay in the car. That should do the trick. And I won’t be long. I’ve got a few bits and pieces to finish off but I should be back home by ten, at the very latest.’
When he said ten, he meant closer to midnight, of course.
‘What about Ginny?’ he asked. ‘Why don’t you ask her to come over? I’ll go and pick her up. How about that?’
He looked so pleased with himself, like he’d just given her a bunch of flowers or told her he was taking her away for the weekend.
‘Ginny’s not answering her phone,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’ve tried calling her a few times but she’s not picking up.’
Again, that feeling that something wasn’t right. Ginny’s phone was like an extra part of her body. Even if she couldn’t take a call, for whatever reason, she almost always called back within a few minutes. But Charlotte had called three times over the last hour and still nothing.
‘Freya?’
Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘Oh please. You think she’d want to spend an evening here, just me and her? She’d rather stick pins in her eyes. Besides, I don’t want her to know about what happened. She’s got enough to worry about at the moment.’
Nick nodded. ‘Of course. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’
He never did. The only person he ever thought of was himself.
‘It’s like someone’s out to get us,’ he said. ‘Do you know what I mean? I can’t help wondering if this is some sort of jealousy thing. You know, someone who resents how successful I am?’
‘Why does it have to be about you?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Think about it, Nick. If someone wanted to get at you, why would they kill Kieran of all people? It can’t have been a secret that you two didn’t like each other.’
‘It wasn’t that we didn’t like each other,’ Nick said. ‘I just didn’t think he was the right guy for Freya. I did try to be civil, you know.’
‘Well you didn’t try very hard,’ Charlotte said. ‘Anyone could see you disapproved of him.’
‘Hope you haven’t said that to the police,’ Nick said.
‘What do you mean?’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Christ almighty, Charlotte. Think about it. If you go spouting on about Kieran and I not liking each other, don’t you think that gives them a motive? The last thing I want is the police digging around into my business. Especially at the moment. We can’t afford any negative publicity. Not now, not ever. My whole business is built on my reputation as a decent, hard-working family man. Nothing – and I mean nothing – can happen to damage that.’
She wondered then if he was capable of murder. And decided yes, he probably was. But under the right circumstances, wasn’t everyone?
She didn’t think Nick had killed Kieran, though. Not because it was beyond him to do something like that. No. Her reasons for believing her husband’s innocence were more practical than that. He’d said it himself. He was about to open a new chain of restaurants. Their success depended on his unsullied reputation as a man of the people. One of the good guys. He wouldn’t do anything to mess that up. He cared too much about his precious restaurants for that.
If only, Charlotte thought, he could find it in himself to care that much about his marriage. Maybe then, there would be some hope for them.
Seven
The front desk called, told Abby that Emer Dawson had arrived. Finally.
‘That lady sitting over there,’ Ron Felix, the officer on the front desk, told her.
Abby looked over, saw a tall, thin woman with bobbed blonde hair sitting on the bench, an oversized handbag placed carefully on her lap.
‘Mrs Dawson?’ Abby asked, walking over.
‘Emer.’ The woman stood up and shook Abby’s hand, attempting a smile without much success.
‘Thank you so much for coming,�
� Abby said.
‘I’m sorry it took me so long,’ Emer said. ‘It wasn’t easy, arranging all the flights at the last moment. Steve – my husband – he thought we should wait. We only had another four days left of our holiday and he said it was a waste of money booking new flights. But I had to come.’
‘Of course,’ Abby said. ‘I’m very sorry about your brother.’
Emer’s face crumpled as if she was about to cry.
‘There’s a café across the road,’ Abby said. ‘Serves really good coffee. Why don’t we go over there and we can have a proper chat?’
In Danilo’s, Abby ordered the drinks and the two women sat across from each other at a table by the window.
‘You’re right,’ Emer said, taking a sip from her cup. ‘This is good.’
‘Much better than the muck served in our staff canteen,’ Abby said.
‘It’s all so surreal,’ Emer said. ‘Sitting here with you like this. I can’t get my head around it.’
‘Were you close?’ Abby asked. ‘You and Kieran?’
Emer shook her head. ‘Not really. There’s a fifteen-year age gap. Kieran was only a little kid when I left home to go to university. We got on fine. It’s just we never had that much in common really. Our parents are dead. Mum first, then Dad two years later. I thought maybe that would bring us closer together but if anything, we drifted further apart from each other.’
Abby thought of her own, dead brother and how close they’d been. Thought how lucky she was to have had the special bond.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
Emer shrugged. ‘Nothing to be sorry about. The truth is, Kieran and Freya didn’t really approve of me. I work for a supermarket chain, I married a banker and I send my kids to private school. All things they don’t agree with.’
‘Have you spoken to Freya yet?’ Abby asked.
‘I’ve tried,’ Emer said. ‘But she’s not answering my calls or replying to my texts. I’d like to go over there but I’m not sure I can bear a confrontation. What do you think?’
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