Dead Time (11 page)

‘Do they want to see you again?'

She shrugged.

‘The one thing I didn't tell them about was this feeling I had when I was in the rose garden. It was as though someone was there. I looked round but couldn't see anyone but I had this certainty that there was someone.'

‘A
feeling?
What kind of feeling was it?' Joshua said, looking at her with interest.

‘I don't know. I can't say.' Rose was cross with herself for not being able to be more specific.

‘Could someone have been hiding?'

‘I don't know the place well enough. I was in there for two, three minutes, five at the very most. I was focused on Emma.'

She stopped speaking because the memory was making her feel tearful. Joshua must have noticed because he put his hand out and grabbed hers.

‘I'm sorry about our trip across the Millennium Bridge,' she said, pulling herself together, and trying to change the subject.

‘No problem. We can go another day. Are you going to school tomorrow?'

‘Not for a few days. I can't really face people. First Ricky Harris, now this. It's as if I've got some kind of curse …'

Joshua looked thoughtful. After a moment he spoke.

‘Do you believe in any of that stuff? Supernatural phenomena?'

‘No,' she shook her head. ‘Do you?'

‘Not sure.'

She felt odd for a moment, as if there was more that Joshua wanted to say. Instead he was fiddling with the beads round his neck. She changed the subject.

‘Let's go and see the bridge on Wednesday.'

‘OK. Come round to the flat and have lunch and then we'll go. I'll tell you all about different grades of suspension bridges. It'll be massively interesting.'

‘As long as I can tell you about T. S. Eliot's poetry. There's a bit in one where he walks across London Bridge.'

Joshua put his hands up. ‘That's an unfair swap.'

‘OK. I'll tell you about a novel I'm studying and you tell me about the bridges.'

‘OK. A
novel
I don't mind. Wednesday. My flat at midday.'

He left soon after, squeezing her hand as he went out of the gate. She watched him walk down the lane as he did a backwards wave. She stood there until he turned a corner and then went back into the garden feeling brighter, happier.

On Monday she waited for a call from the police to go in and see them again but none came. Just after lunch she opened the front door to find Henry Thompson standing there in his uniform, his cycling helmet in his hand, his
bike leaning against the edge of the porch. Rose looked down to see the bike clips on his trousers.

Her grandmother came out into the hall. Henry spoke formally.

‘Officer Henry Thompson, Mrs Christie. I've come with some information for you and your granddaughter about the events of Saturday evening.'

Her grandmother ushered him into the house and insisted that he come into the drawing room. Rose followed him. He spoke in a low voice to her as he walked.

‘Rose, I wish I'd been at work on Saturday night but as you know I was off-duty. When I got a call from the detectives yesterday I couldn't believe it. I did, of course, tell them I'd seen you just before …'

‘Take a seat,' her grandmother said.

He sat in one of her high-winged chairs looking a little awkward. He put his bike helmet on the carpet, then lifted it up again. He had a bottle of water in his hand and drank from it.

‘Would you like me to get a glass for that?' her grandmother said, frowning at him. ‘Or some tea? Green tea? Earl Grey?'

‘No, thank you. I'll get straight to the point.'

Her grandmother sat down and Rose perched on the edge of the sofa. She picked up a satin cushion that had appliqué flowers. Her fingers played with the petals while Henry spoke.

‘I'm here to apologise to you and Rose for the vigorous way in which she was interviewed on Saturday night. We are very sorry for any upset that it might have caused. A murder investigation is a top priority and sometimes people are treated insensitively. Rose must have been shocked and upset, particularly after what she'd been through a few days before. It was not our intention to suggest that Rose was responsible. We are merely trying to find out as much as we can as quickly as we can.'

‘It seemed to me that you assumed that Rose was guilty,' her grandmother said.

Henry shook his head but she went on.

‘The whole unpleasant affair is in the hands of my solicitor.'

‘Mrs Christie. You are entitled to lodge a complaint but I would ask you to think about one thing. Your granddaughter here was upset and possibly traumatised – but she is now here with you. There is a family on the Chalk Farm Estate whose daughter will never come home to them again.'

He stood up.

Her grandmother nodded stiffly at him and Rose looked at him with admiration. There weren't many people who could silence Anna. She got up and followed him out of the room.

When Henry left she stepped out of the house behind him and suddenly felt awkward. She remembered him
asking her to go to a club he ran for teenagers. She couldn't remember the name of it but she hoped he wouldn't ask her again.

‘What happened to Emma?' she said, getting to the point. ‘You have to tell me. What have the police found out? What's been going on?'

‘Confidential,' he said, looking away from her, strapping on his helmet, taking his time with the fastening.

‘Please. I was there. I'm trying to make some sense of it.'

He looked at her for a few moments and then lifted his bike away from the wall.

‘Walk along with me,' he said. ‘Whatever I say to you is between us. Agreed?'

‘'Course,' she said, and got into step with him as he walked along the pavement, leading his bike by the handlebars.

‘The detectives are looking through the CCTV footage.'

The mention of CCTV cameras made Rose feel uncomfortable as she remembered Skeggsie hacking into them the previous week.

‘There are three cameras in the cemetery; one at the gatehouse, one in the centre and one at a small tradesmen's entrance on the east side. The CCTV camera at the entrance showed Emma Burke going past just after 5.40.'

Rose's jaw tightened. Twenty to six. That was ten minutes earlier than they said they'd meet. Why had Emma gone into the cemetery early?

‘At six Lewis Proctor went in. At six minutes past you went in. At 6.15 Lewis Proctor ran out. There are cameras along Cuttings Lane but they show no movement from 5.40 when Emma Burke went into the cemetery until after the police arrive.'

‘Cuttings Lane?'

‘It's a footpath that goes between the cemetery and the railway line. It leads to the footbridge into the Chalk Farm Estate.'

Rose didn't know it.

‘There have been robberies along Cuttings Lane so CCTV has been installed. There's also a camera on the footbridge which oddly showed a person running across it at 6.20.'

‘Why oddly?'

‘Because there was no sign of that person along Cuttings Lane. My guess is that they came out of the cemetery. The perimeter is huge and is mostly hedges and fencing with a little brickwork in places. It's entirely possible that someone could enter and exit some other way than either gate. We know that some young people trespass in the cemetery. It doesn't mean that the person on the footbridge has anything to do with the murder but we still have to look into it,' he said.

They were at the corner of the main road.

‘Do you think the same person who killed Emma also killed Ricky?'

‘We don't know.'

‘What about Lewis Proctor? What does he say?'

‘He's not been home since this happened.'

‘You think it was him?' Rose said, her voice low.

‘We don't know. We're still looking for the weapon. It could have been thrown anywhere in the cemetery or kept by the killer.'

They were standing on the corner. Neither of them spoke. Eventually Henry broke the quiet.

‘About the other night? When I mentioned the Sundown Club?'

Rose stiffened.

‘I probably didn't describe it very well. We meet once a week, on a Wednesday night. There's music and table football. And sometimes we have speakers.'

Rose looked at Henry in consternation. Did she really seem like the sort of girl who would want to hang around with a load of misfit teenagers playing table games?

‘I know that this isn't a very good time. What with all this stuff going on. I just wanted you to keep it in mind. Some of the kids who come say that it's a cool place to be …'

‘Henry,' she said, interrupting him.

‘I could do with some help, you see. Someone to help me run it, decide on activities and so on. I think you would be great.'

‘Henry, stop …'

‘Yes?'

When would adults realise that as soon as they pronounced something as
cool
it ceased to be so?

‘I will never want to go to your club. It will
never
be the right time.'

He was quiet for a minute, his eyes looking further up the road.

‘Point taken,' he said. ‘Thanks for being straight about it.'

She'd hurt his feelings. Henry was all grown up, at least he had a proper grown-up job, but underneath the uniform and the bicycle clips he seemed young. He got on to his bike and pushed himself off from the pavement with a foot. She wanted to be able to say something nice to him but he rode off without another word. She felt guilty. She watched him join the traffic on the High Street, then she walked back up the road towards her grandmother's house.

The police were still looking for the knife.

She imagined a line of policemen walking across the cemetery, stepping gingerly across graves, gently sidestepping headstones, walking round mausoleums. She pictured a row of faces, stern, concentrated. Only the stone angels' faces would remain unperturbed, peaceful, their eyes staring blindly around. Silent witnesses to what had happened.

Rose knocked on the door of the Camden Flat. She glanced towards Lettuce and Stuff and saw that it was busy, the queue almost to the street door. She felt hungry and wondered what Josh had for them to eat. Footsteps sounded from inside the flat and she waited impatiently for Josh to open the door. Lunch and a walk across the Millennium Bridge. She'd looked forward to it. It suggested a kind of normality. An afternoon out with her stepbrother. It was a million miles away from Parkway East Station and St Michael's Cemetery.

The sound of the bolts being pulled back interrupted her thoughts. She started to smile as the door opened but frowned instead. It was Skeggsie.

‘Yes?' he said.

‘Josh told me to come round,' she said, giving a momentary fake smile.

‘He's not here. He had to go out.'

‘Where?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Didn't he say anything?'

Skeggsie shook his head. Rose noticed then that he was holding the door in front of his body as if to shield himself. She sighed and looked round.

‘Can I come in and wait?'

Skeggsie seemed to think about it for a moment.

‘I suppose so.'

He held the door back and she walked in and went up the stairs. She heard him lock the door and rolled her eyes. She stood at the top of the stairs as her mobile beeped. It was a text from Joshua.
A last-minute tutorial came up. Be back in 15 mins or so. Sorry.

Skeggsie got to the top of the stairs. He was a little breathless.

‘He sent me a text. He'll be here soon,' she said.

Skeggsie blew through his teeth.

‘You want a drink?' he said. ‘A tea or coffee?'

‘OK.'

‘It's all in the kitchen. Help yourself,' he said, hooking his thumb towards the kitchen and walking off back into his room.

Rose stood in the hallway for a moment. Her foot tapped on the floor. Would it have killed him to make her a drink? She walked towards the sitting room. She sat down on the sofa and picked up the remote from the top of a pile of books on the coffee table. She clicked it on and
watched a programme for a while. Then she turned it off. There was music playing, a band she liked. It was coming from Skeggsie's room. She got up and walked aimlessly into the hallway. She had a peek in Joshua's bedroom and saw the duvet half on, half off the bed. There were clothes strewn around and a plate on the bedside table with a piece of toast on it. He had obviously got up and left in a rush. She glanced into Joshua's study and saw his chair turned away from the computer. She walked over and looked at the desk. There were pens and Post-its, paper clips and highlighters. She sat down in his chair and immediately saw a strip of photographs attached to his console.

It was Brendan and Josh in a photo booth. Josh was younger than she'd ever known him, perhaps nine or ten and Brendan had more hair than she remembered. His face was thinner too.

‘What you doing in here?'

She swivelled round.

‘Waiting for Josh.'

‘I don't think he'd like it if you were in here.'

‘Don't be silly. He won't mind.'

‘It's his private stuff.'

‘I'm his stepsister. He won't mind.'

Skeggsie huffed when she said
stepsister
. She was immediately irked.

‘What?' she said.

But Skeggsie had turned and walked out of the room. She pushed the chair back and followed him.

‘What?' she called after him.

He went into his room and closed the door. Now she was angry. What was wrong with him? She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Loud music was playing but Skeggsie turned it off and looked round at her.

‘Have you got a problem with me?' she said.

‘No,' he said, avoiding eye contact.

‘You have. Something is bothering you about me. What is it? Have I offended you?'