by Casey, Jane
‘Where did she go?’ I was curious; she was too young for pubs and clubs.
‘To see friends.’
‘Can you give me their names and addresses?’
In a soft voice, she listed five names, all girls. ‘I’m not sure of the addresses but they all live in Wimbledon or Kingston. They’re in school with us.’
‘Don’t worry. I can get their addresses from the school.’ I tapped my pen on my notebook. ‘What about boys? Did Laura have a boyfriend?’
‘No.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ Lydia blinked at me, all innocence. ‘We’re not allowed have boyfriends. Not until we’re seventeen.’
I couldn’t tell if she was lying deliberately or if she genuinely didn’t know what her sister had been up to. I grinned. ‘That sounds like a parent’s rule to me. And those are the kind of rules that get broken, usually. It’s easy enough to mislead your parents if you want to, isn’t it?’
A vehement shake of her head. ‘We wouldn’t have gone behind their backs.’
‘Are you sure?’ In the car, I had brought Liv up to speed on the images we’d found on Laura’s camera. She knew as well as I did that we weren’t getting the full story. ‘Is it possible that Laura was seeing someone that you didn’t even know about?’
Lydia looked stubborn. ‘No way. She wasn’t seeing anyone.’
‘But she was staying out late. With friends, you said. You don’t know if she was really there, do you? She might have been meeting a boyfriend.’
‘She wasn’t.’
‘Lydia’s told you Laura didn’t have a boyfriend. Stop bullying her.’
I had almost forgotten Renee was there. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Fairfax.’ To Lydia, I said, ‘We’re not trying to bully you. We just want to be absolutely sure we know the truth about Laura’s love life. It could be significant.’
‘There’s nothing to know.’ Lydia was pulling at her sleeves again, worrying at a loose thread.
‘I’m afraid that’s not the case.’
‘Why are you so sure she had a boyfriend?’ Renee demanded.
I looked at Lydia warily. If she really believed what she’d been telling us, it was time to shatter some illusions. ‘We found things in Laura’s room that lead us to believe she was in a relationship.’
‘What sort of things?’
I hesitated. ‘The contraceptive pill. Condoms.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ Renee snapped. ‘Teenagers get prescribed the pill for all sorts of reasons. And they’re given condoms for free. Aren’t you, Lyd? My boys always had hundreds of them in their rooms, not that they had much of a chance to use them. Wishful thinking was what it was.’
Lydia had gone scarlet and was staring across the lawn, clearly wishing she was somewhere else, somewhere a million miles from our conversation.
‘There were other things, Mrs Fairfax. I don’t need to go into detail, but we are absolutely sure that Laura had been engaging in sexual acts with one or possibly more partners. We are obviously very keen to trace anyone who was involved with her, which is why I keep asking Lydia if she can identify anyone who might have been … close to Laura.’ It was a nice euphemism. Derwent’s version would have been something like, ‘Anyone who was stuck in her up to his nuts.’
‘I didn’t know.’ Lydia’s voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear her. ‘I promise, I didn’t know.’
‘We can talk to her friends,’ Liv said, ‘so don’t worry. We will find whoever it was.’
‘She was so young.’ Renee sounded stunned. ‘Things have changed, haven’t they?’
‘I think young people have always done more of that sort of thing than adults want to believe,’ I said. ‘It’s just that you can prove it now that everyone has a digital camera and access to the Internet.’
‘Vita would have been mortified. She thought Laura was an angel.’
‘She was underage, but as I said, it’s not that unusual. If it was consensual and her partner was also underage, I don’t think it would be seen as particularly controversial by the standards of today.’
‘What standards?’ Renee made a noise that was very like a snort. ‘Of course, she got it from her father. He has the morals of an alley cat. The hypocrisy of banning boyfriends when he’s famous for his floozies. I mean: you’re going to go one way or the other, aren’t you? It’s no wonder––’ She broke off abruptly.
‘No wonder?’ I prompted.
‘No wonder she thought it was acceptable.’
I was absolutely sure that wasn’t what Renee had been planning to say, but with Kennford’s daughter sitting between us I could imagine why she’d come to a shuddering halt.
‘Speaking of the Internet, do you know Laura’s password for her email account?’
‘She changed it all the time,’ Lydia said.
‘What sort of thing did she usually use?’
‘Completely random stuff. She collected eight-letter words. It made her laugh to have something weird that no one could ever guess.’
More good news. ‘Did she have a list of them?’ I asked, slightly desperately.
‘Yes. On her phone.’
Elation to despair in two short sentences. ‘About that – we can’t find her phone. It didn’t seem to be in the house.’
‘She always had it.’
‘Not last night. We found her bag in the living room––’ I flashed on an image of Kev Cox delving through it with gloved hands. It had been on the sofa near her when her throat was cut and had come in for a good share of the arterial spray. Brown leather saturated with blood turned a vile shade of purple. Glad that they couldn’t read my mind, I finished off lamely with, ‘– and the phone wasn’t there.’
‘She usually kept it in her back pocket if it wasn’t in her bag.’
‘She’d been sitting on the sofa. Would she have taken it out of her pocket to be more comfortable?’
A shrug. ‘I suppose.’
‘It’s important we find it, Lydia. Do you know the number?’ We could trace it using cell-site analysis, triangulating it by the nearest transmission stations.
‘I have it written down somewhere.’
‘It’s probably in your phone,’ Liv said. ‘I never remember anyone’s number any more because I just use my mobile all the time.’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘Really? You must be the only teenager in Britain who doesn’t.’
‘I don’t like them.’
‘Your friends must find it annoying when they want to get hold of you.’
She looked down again and didn’t answer. Maybe Lydia wasn’t the sort of person who had a lot of friends.
I looked down at my list of questions and blew out a lungful of air. To say we weren’t making progress was an understatement. No boyfriend. No phone. Very little information we hadn’t had already.
Lydia must have read the expression on my face. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not much use.’
‘No, you’re being very helpful. You can only tell us what you know.’
‘I suppose so.’ She didn’t sound convinced.
‘Let’s go back to yesterday,’ I suggested.
‘I spent the morning reading in my room. I don’t know what Mum did. Dad went into chambers to pick up a brief.’
‘And then?’
‘Laura got up. She cooked lunch and I helped – pasta and pesto, garlic bread. But it was much too hot for a heavy meal.’ Lydia smiled a little, remembering. ‘No one finished it.’
‘Did Laura like cooking?’
‘She loved it. She liked to make people happy.’
‘After that?’
‘I tidied up. Mum went off and made some phone calls. Laura watched TV and I went back to my room. Dad was working in his study.’
Happy families. ‘Was that usual at weekends? You didn’t do anything together?’
‘Sometimes.’ She screwed up her face, trying to think. ‘Mainly we’d go shopping with Mum or on our own. Dad usuall
y works. And in term-time, we have homework.’
‘Okay. You’re doing really well. What happened after you watched TV?’
‘Laura got ready to go out. Mum and Dad had dinner.’ She shifted a little in her chair. ‘I wasn’t hungry. I stayed in my room until later, when I came down to swim.’
I leaned forward a little, unable to stop myself. ‘Where was Laura going?’
‘To see her best friend. Millie Carberry,’ Lydia added, seeing me scanning the list she’d already given me. I put a star against Millie’s name.
‘For any particular reason?’
‘Laura said they were going to the cinema together. Millie is obsessed with Robert Pattinson so she wanted to see his new film.’
‘But they didn’t go. Or at least Laura didn’t.’
Lydia was twisting her right hand around the opposite forearm, over and over. ‘No. She didn’t.’
‘Who knew she was supposed to be out last night?’ Liv asked.
‘I don’t know. She probably put it on her Facebook page.’
‘And I bet she’s popular.’ I had a sinking feeling. It was getting to be familiar.
‘She’s got hundreds of friends.’
‘Okay, well, who would have known she wasn’t out?’
‘I have no idea. It must have been a last-minute thing. I didn’t see her before I went out to the pool. I suppose I just assumed she’d gone out.’ Lydia was pale now, paler than the drawing paper in front of her. A thin sheen of perspiration shone on her forehead and her upper lip. The temperature had climbed steadily while we’d been talking. The breeze from the water seemed to have dropped. I lifted my hair off the back of my neck for a second.
‘I think we’re in for a record-breaking day if it keeps up like this.’
‘I can’t stand this weather,’ Renee said violently. ‘I wish it would rain.’
Lydia closed her eyes.
‘Are you okay, Lydia? Do you need a glass of water?’
‘I’m fine.’ Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. I thought she looked dazed. It was time to start thinking about winding up the interview. She twisted her hand around her arm again, her knuckles white as she squeezed.
‘I’m sorry to keep asking about Laura’s plans for last night. It’s just that we need to work out if she was the killer’s target or not.’
‘You mean if we were all supposed to die or if it was just Mum or Laura.’ Her lips were bloodless.
‘That is sort of what I mean.’
‘They hurt Dad. They killed Mum and Laura. They left me alone. Don’t you think that’s strange?’
‘Not strange. Interesting. It might be significant. It might not.’
‘I’ve been wondering about it.’ Her eyes were closed again. ‘I’ve been thinking about whether it should have been me in there. I keep seeing her. And the blood.’
‘It might help you to talk to someone about what you saw. A counsellor. The FLO can arrange that.’
‘FLO?’ Renee inquired.
‘Sorry. Family Liaison Officer.’
‘Oh, him. I sent him away. Horrible little man.’ She shuddered.
‘I think they’re used to that.’ Time to be diplomatic again. ‘I would give him a call. He might be able to help.’
Beside me, Liv gave a smothered exclamation. I looked and moved in the same moment, jumping forward just in time to stop Lydia from hitting her head on the floor as she slumped out of her seat. I was peripherally aware of Renee sliding off the railing and stepping forward, reaching out, but all of my attention was focused on her niece. Before she could touch her, Liv grabbed her arm.
‘Wait.’
Lydia’s eyes were closed but I could see her chest moving and her pulse was rapid under my fingers.
‘She’ll need an ambulance.’
‘I’ll call them.’ Liv was staring down at her. ‘What’s that?’
She was looking at a red smear on Lydia’s bony wrist, where her sleeve had slipped back. Gingerly, I lifted the material away from the girl’s skin. It stuck for a second, then pulled free. I pushed it back to her elbow, revealing a long, deep cut on her forearm seeping blood along its length. I stared at it for a second before registering that my fingertips were wet.
‘Jesus, her sleeve is saturated. She’s been bleeding the whole time we’ve been talking.’
Renee looked at me accusingly. ‘But she wasn’t injured. You said she wasn’t injured.’
‘I didn’t know. No one did. She didn’t tell anyone.’
And if she’d been telling us the truth about what had happened the previous night, she shouldn’t have been hurt at all.
Chapter Six
RENEE WAS HAPPY for me to go in the ambulance with Lydia, happy to stay at home while Lydia waited with us for treatment at A & E, and happy for her to be transferred to a ward for twenty-four hours’ observation without feeling that she needed to come to the hospital herself. Renee was happy as long as she didn’t have to put herself out, in fact. I didn’t particularly mind – it was a lot easier to deal with the hospital staff without having a relative there, as they were prepared to talk to me in Renee’s absence.
‘Self-inflicted. This morning, probably.’ The doctor was young, tired, very thin and distracted by paperwork. He was leaning on the reception desk where Liv and I had cornered him.
‘Are you sure? It couldn’t have happened last night?’ I had to stop myself from grabbing the file he was looking at just to make sure I had his full attention.
‘Probably not. Looks more recent than that.’ He shrugged. ‘You could try asking her.’
‘She’s been out cold since we found out about it,’ Liv said.
‘Pretending, maybe. I’d say she just doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s been speaking to the nurses and she was awake when I saw her, even if she wasn’t very chatty.’ He didn’t look up and I couldn’t tell if he was being rude deliberately or if he was just distracted and too busy to be diplomatic.
‘Well, that would make sense too.’ I was aiming for conciliatory. ‘I get that you can’t be certain about when it happened, but why are you sure she did it to herself? You don’t seem to have any doubts about it.’
‘Not really, no.’
‘It’s just that we need to be sure it’s not a defence wound or something she did in a fight.’ I leaned in closer. ‘It’s a serious case. Murder. I need to know if she’s a suspect or not.’
‘I can’t help you there. All I can say is that the scarring on her arms and legs suggests she has a long-standing history of self-harm. Going back years, probably. If she has been involved in something like a murder, it might have brought about an incident of self-harm. Stress can do that.’
‘Sorry, she gets upset about her mother and sister being murdered so she tries to slit her wrists – is that what you’re saying?’ Liv was looking nonplussed.
‘She wouldn’t have intended to cause herself any serious or lasting harm. Self-harmers generally report a psychological release in cutting or burning themselves, as if the physical pain counteracts their mental anguish. It’s common in sufferers of depression. And teenage girls.’
‘And sufferers from eating disorders?’
‘Them too. It all goes hand in hand.’ He shrugged. ‘She looks like she was pretty dedicated to it, to be honest. I’d be surprised if this is her first time to be hospitalised, looking at some of the scarring.’
‘But you don’t think she wanted to end up here?’ I said. ‘It’s not a cry for help?’
‘I’d be more inclined to think she wanted to keep it a secret. She probably went too far without meaning to.’ He snapped the file shut and opened the next one on the pile. ‘She fainted because of blood loss. The cut isn’t actually that bad, even though it’s deep. At least it’s clean.’
‘What do you think she used? A knife?’
‘No. Something like a razor blade. Probably just from an ordinary disposable razor. They’re easy enough to break apart.’
I thought of
Vita’s injuries, and Laura’s neck wound. They were definitely not razor cuts.
‘It was deep, though,’ Liv objected.
‘Nothing to stop you from cutting deeper if you can stand it, even with a standard razor blade.’ He looked up from his file. ‘They say it makes you euphoric. You don’t feel the pain. You don’t feel anything at all.’
‘Hence the attraction of it.’
‘Exactly.’ He looked at me approvingly. I was fairly sure we were about the same age, but he had the condescending medical manner down pat. ‘It’s her way of dealing with her emotions. Other people drink or take drugs. She cuts herself. Not as unusual as you might think.’
‘If you say so.’
‘It’s not too bad an injury. I’m just keeping her in because I think she could do with a bit of being looked after, and there’s no way to be sure how much blood she actually lost so we might as well play it safe.’ He looked up again. ‘Did you say her mother and sister were killed yesterday?’
‘In Wimbledon.’
‘Shit. I heard about that. That’s her, is it?’ He shrugged. ‘Not actually a surprise that she’s not in the best of moods.’
‘You can see why we’re concerned to know how and when it happened.’
‘I can. But I’ve said what I think. You’ll have to ask her for her version.’
‘Can we talk to her now?’
He leaned back to see her cubicle. The curtains were still closed. ‘If you’ve got time before she’s transferred to the ward. She’s going to the paediatric unit and I’d prefer to let her have a rest undisturbed once she gets there.’
Liv set off towards the cubicle but I hung back. ‘Do you think she’ll do it again?’
‘Probably. Some time.’
‘Should we be concerned for her safety, though? Should her father? I’ve got to know whether she needs to be sectioned for her own good.’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’
‘You think giving her space is a better approach.’
‘Not necessarily. But I wouldn’t put my worst enemy in a secure psychiatric unit. However bad things are out in the real world, it’s got to be better than that.’ With a muttered goodbye he strode away, his chinos cinched in painfully tightly around a narrow waist. He lived on his nerves, I thought, and seemed to be naturally inclined to be snappy, but his heart was in the right place. I would pass on what he’d said to Renee, and Philip Kennford, and let them decide what was best for Lydia. I was just glad it wasn’t my decision.