‘And it wasn’t’ – she taps the printout with her fingertip – ‘it wasn’t this girl?’
‘I really, really don’t … It was dark and, like I say, I’d had some wine. I really don’t …’ He’s started to talk very fast now.He’s aware that he sounds panicked. He’s wishing he hadn’t said anything now about the strange girl in the hoodie. The police would be gone now and he could be safely back in his room.
‘Well, actually, that’s very useful, thank you so much. I’m glad you were able to remember that for us. And if you don’t mind, we’d like to be in touch again. Once we’ve had a chance to talk to people who live across the street.’
The people across the street.
The people who give him dirty looks whenever they pass.
The skinny blonde woman with the annoying face.
Her thunder-thighed daughter.
The ridiculous father with the leggings, running up and down that hill in the dark as though seeking oblivion.
23
Cate has her bag on her shoulder and is opening her front door about to head to her borrowed room in St John’s Wood to treat a patient when she jumps at the sight of a small blonde woman dressed in black, accompanied by a man in police uniform. She stops and stares at them for a moment. Immediately she knows that they are here to talk about Saffyre Maddox.
‘Hi,’ she says. ‘Sorry. I was just on my way out.’
‘That’s OK. We can come back.’
‘Oh,’ she says, ‘no. It’s fine. I can spare a few minutes.’
‘If you’re sure?’
She shows them into the living room, freshly tidied, thank goodness, cushions all in a neat row.
‘Nice flat,’ says the woman.
‘Oh,’ says Cate. ‘It’s not mine. I mean, it’s a rental. Just temporary.’
‘Well, it’s lovely. I love the high ceilings. DI Currie.’ She extends a small hand. ‘And PC Rodrigues.’
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No, we’re fine. But thank you.’
They all sit down and DI Currie takes out a notepad and sheaf of paper.
‘We’re looking into the disappearance of a local schoolgirl.’ She passes a sheet of paper to Cate who stares blankly at the familiar photograph of Saffyre Maddox.
‘Ah,’ she says. ‘Yes. I saw this in the papers.’
‘Good, then you know a little about the case?’
Cate nods. She waits for the DI to say something about Roan, about his connection to Saffyre Maddox, but is surprised when the DI says, ‘Valentine’s night. Can you remember where you were?’
‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Right. Yes. I was in Hampstead, having drinks and dinner with my husband.’
‘And what time did you get home?’
‘Roughly eleven thirty.’
‘And did you see anything? Anyone? When you returned?’
Cate stops. She’s about to say something about the figure she glimpsed through the curtains. But something stops her. ‘Not that I can remember,’ she says.