Page 39

Mina dusts her hands by the hearth as I come back into the kitchen. Fire crackles in the grate.

‘Ash,’ says Croft, standing by the door, beckoning him.

My father coughs and raises his eyebrows at Tristan. His meaning is clear. He couldn’t allow precious Ash to talk to the police alone.

Tristan follows Ash down the hall.

We don’t normally light the fire in the summer, but the temperature is dropping and the cold has got inside me. I try to catch Mina’s eye to say thank you for laying it, but she sits on the armchair, crosses her legs and doesn’t look up. I perch on a footstool and stare into the flames.

I told Bevan about the attack on Tristan; Georgia’s mother’s death. I begged her to send someone to speak to Georgia, and she said, ‘They don’t tell you this before you join up, but police work is really all about resource management.’

I remember toasting marshmallows in here with Jenna, her friends one winter afternoon, playing the dictionary game and marvelling at their cleverness. Sylvie had burnt her tongue and sat with it pressed to an ice cube.

Jenna’s life isn’t like that any more. She isn’t surrounded by friends. When did it change?

Ash comes out scowling with Tristan behind him. It’s Ava’s turn. Mina follows her to the office.

My mother and father, Tristan and Theo are waiting for the lawyer.

I don’t have the energy to think about all the possible reasons why they aren’t cooperating. It doesn’t matter, really. I know the only one who matters is Georgia.

When I go to the sink for water, Tristan comes over. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmurs. ‘I promise I have nothing useful to say.’

I hold my breath. ‘The main thing is you’ve got Ash and Ava to talk to them.’ I suppose if he has nothing helpful to add, there’s no point in him incurring the wrath of my father. I pat his arm before going to sit in the armchair.

What would Georgia want with my baby? She couldn’t kill someone, could she? Buried deep inside is my best friend.

But her mother died. And then I’d heard she’d tried to end her own life. And at school she’d spat in my face. ‘You killed my mother,’ she’d hissed. And my father had gone round urging her to leave –explaining, if she didn’t, how the press would get hold of the story and how her mother would be remembered.

I get out my phone and look at the message from Yummummy25 again: She hurt my little girl.

Ava comes in again. Mina must’ve stayed behind to be interviewed. She’s not waiting for a lawyer. I could kiss her.

How could Georgia still blame us for what happened, though? Surely now she understands it was all her mother’s fault, that there was something very wrong with her mother.

I realise I’ve been pressing on my thigh. Then I feel the pain of it, sharp and high. A dark spot of blood is blooming on my dress. The fabric is deep green so hopefully no one will notice. I place a cushion in my lap.

Mina comes back in and sits beside me on the arm of the chair, her mouth a grim line. She reaches around me and rests her hand on my shoulder. Tristan comes to sit on the other side. DI Bevan and PC Croft murmur in the hallway.

‘It’s Georgia, isn’t it?’ I whisper.

I feel the twins’ eyes on me. They’re sitting on dining chairs, swivelled away from the table to face the fire. Mother is behind them, the other side of the table, and behind her Father sits in the bay window.

‘You think Miss Smith has, like, kidnapped her?’ asks Ava.

I open my mouth but Father raises his palm and Ash pushes his sister’s leg.

‘I don’t know,’ says Mina.

‘Ladies,’ says my father in a warning tone.

‘What did Miss Smith do?’ Ava asks. ‘Why are you all so freaked out about her?’

My father stares at the ceiling. Is he more bothered by Ava pressing for the truth or her colloquial language?

Tristan looks pale. ‘I hope to never have to tell you,’ he says.

I squeeze his arm.

‘But you do have to,’ says Ava.

‘It’s ancient history, dear girl,’ says Father.

My mother bobs her head. ‘Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.’ Which earns her a pat from Father.

Ava’s pretty face fixes in annoyance.

‘While we wait for this lawyer,’ says Bevan, coming back in, ‘Frances, you can show us around. The rest of you, stay here.’

‘All of us?’ asks Ash, stretching.

‘No one has to stay,’ says my father.

‘I’d prefer it if you all stayed,’ says Bevan.

I realise she doesn’t want those waiting for the lawyer to be alone before interviewing them. Because it seems suspicious, doesn’t it? She’s probably never met a family like mine.

Theo smiles at me apologetically. He’s only waiting for the lawyer because that’s basically his job, or religion. If he had something important to tell the police, he’d break his own rules and tell them.

‘We’re not going anywhere,’ says Tristan. ‘If Detective Bevan says stay, we’ll stay.’

I smile a thank you.

Father raises his eyebrows. Why is he being so difficult? Because he thinks Jenna is making a scene?

Because one doesn’t allow oneself to be interviewed without legal representation?

Because it’s his nature?

Or because he’s hiding something?