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‘I thought I’d pick up some things for Enoch. You saw how bare his cupboards were.’
Her tone, now that the police have left, is different. Her manner seems different, too. What if she’s lying about shopping for Enoch? Last night, after their bloody and disastrous sex, she’d told him she intended to visit the bungalow.
‘I’ll come with you,’ he says.
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I want to.’
‘Don’t you have work to do?’
‘It can wait.’
‘Joe …’ Erin begins. She blinks a handful of times in quick succession. Then she rummages in her bag for her sunglasses and puts them on. ‘Fine, but we leave now. I have a meeting later – and I need some time to prepare.’
Joseph nods. When he turns, he sees Max standing in the hall.
I should come, the boy mouths.
No, he mouths back.Leave her to me.
Max shakes his head.
I’ve got this.Trust me.
Teeth clenched, Max stands his ground. Then Erin reappears. ‘Are you ready?’
Max backs into the living room. He doesn’t look angry, exactly. If anything, he looks scared – like a kid who already lost one parent and fears he’s about to lose another. Joseph wants to reassure him, but with Erin watching, there’s nothing he can say.
THIRTY-FIVE
Joseph sits in the passenger seat, peering through the side window as his wife reverses off the drive. It looks like Gemma Robinson doesn’t have a smart doorbell, but the Taylors might, his neighbours on the other side. He wonders if any of the houses further down the street have cameras. He can’t pull the same trick he pulled on Ralph Erikson with everyone.
In Crompton, rather than driving into the Sainsbury’s multistorey, Erin turns left at the train station roundabout and stops the car. Joseph sees that they’re almost exactly where he parked yesterday. From here, he has a perfect view of Crompton’s police station.
His ears pop and roar. Just like yesterday, he feels, suddenly, like he’s trapped inside a tiny ocean submersible, deep below the surface. ‘I thought we were picking up supplies for Enoch.’
‘Change of plan. There’s something I wanted to say first.’
‘Here?’
‘It didn’t feel safe at home.’
‘Safe from what?’
Ignoring the question, Erin takes off her sunglasses. ‘Joe, do you remember the first time I introduced you to Tilly?’
He does. He’d been seeing Erin for three months, after their friendship at the bereavement group developed into something more. Erin had already met Max; by now, she was regularly staying the night at their old house. But despite Joseph’s keenness to meet Tilly, Erin had kept them apart.
Then, one Sunday morning in late spring, they’d been drinking coffee in a Hampton Court brasserie overlooking the Thames when a girl around Max’s age had dropped into the seat opposite Joseph.
‘I thought it was time,’ Erin had explained. She’d introduced her daughter, picked up her bag and walked out.
Joseph had looked at Tilly.
‘Hi,’ she’d said, with wry amusement.
‘Hi,’ he’d said right back.