Page 114 of Good Girl, Bad Blood

‘No, it’s . . .’ Tom trailed off with a shrug, turning back to Pip. ‘I have some information.’

‘No one wants you here. Go away,’ Ant said, and an amused smile spread across Lauren’s face as she threaded her arm through his.

‘I’m not talking to you,’ Tom said. He looked back at Pip. ‘It’s about Jamie Reynolds.’

Connor’s head jerked up, his eyes blinking away that haunted look as he focused on Pip. She held up her hand and nodded, gesturing for him to stay put.

‘Oh, sure,’ Ant said with a sneer.

‘Wind it in, will you, Ant.’ Pip stood up and shouldered her heavy bag. ‘No one’s impressed, except Lauren.’ She climbed over the plastic bench and told Tom to follow her as she headed towards the doors to the courtyard outside, knowing Connor would be watching them go.

‘Let’s talk over here,’ she said outside, gesturing to the low wall. It had rained that morning and the bricks were still a little wet as she sat down, soaking into her trousers. Tom spread out his jacket before joining her. ‘So, what information do you have about Jamie?’

‘It’s about the night he went missing,’ Tom said with a sniff.

‘Really? Have you listened to the first episode? I released it last night.’

‘No, not yet,’ he said.

‘I only ask because we’ve built up a timeline of Jamie’s movements last Friday. We know he was at the calamity party from 9:16 p.m. and left the area around 10:32 p.m., if that’s where you saw him.’ Tom stared at her blankly. ‘What I mean is, I already have that information, if that’s what you were going to say.’

He shook his head. ‘Er, no, it’s something else. I wasn’t at the calamity party, but I saw him. After that.’

‘You did? After 10:32?’ And suddenly Pip was hyperaware: the shrieking year ten boys playing football, a fly that had just landed on her bag, the wall pressing into her bones.

‘Yes,’ Tom said. ‘It was after that.’

‘How long after?’

‘Um, maybe fifteen minutes, or twenty,’ he screwed up his face in concentration.

‘So, around 10:50 p.m.?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. That sounds about right.’

Pip sat forward, waiting for Tom to carry on.

He didn’t.

‘And?’ she said, starting to grow annoyed despite herself. ‘Where were you? Where did you see him? Was it somewhere near Highmoor, where the party was?’

‘Yeah, it was that road, um, what’s it called . . . oh, Cross Lane,’ he said.

Cross Lane. Pip only knew one person who lived down Cross Lane, with a bright blue door and an angled front path: Nat da Silva and her parents.

‘You saw Jamie on Cross Lane at 10:50 p.m.?’

‘Yeah, I saw him, in a burgundy shirt and white trainers. I pacifically remember that.’

‘That’s what he was wearing,specifically,’ she said, wincing at Tom’s butchering of the word. ‘Why were you there at that time?’

He shrugged. ‘Just going home from a friend’s house.’

‘And what was Jamie doing?’ Pip asked.

‘He was walking. Walked past me.’

‘OK. And was he on the phone when he walked past you?’ she said.