‘My daughter didn’t take things from other people’s homes,’ Louise replied sourly, and I nodded. No point arguing this one.
‘I’ll look into it, first thing tomorrow. I’ll have these sent to the labs, and we’ll look at Katie’s blood tests again. If I missed something, Louise …’
She shook her head. ‘I know it doesn’t change anything. I know it won’t bring her back,’ she said quietly. ‘It would just help me. To understand.’
‘I see that. Of course I do. Would you like me to drive you home?’ I asked her. ‘I can bring your car over in the morning.’
She shook her head again and gave me a shaky smile. ‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
The echo of her thanks – unwarranted, undeserved – rang out in the silence after she’d gone. I felt wretched, and was grateful for the sound of Helen’s footsteps on the stairs, grateful that I wouldn’t have to be alone.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked me as she entered the kitchen. She looked pale and very tired, with circles like bruises under her eyes. She sat down at the table and reached for my hand. ‘What was Louise doing here?’
‘She found something,’ I said. ‘Something which she thinks might have some bearing on what happened to Katie.’
‘Oh, God, Sean. What?’
I puffed out my cheeks. ‘I shouldn’t … probably shouldn’t discuss it in detail just yet.’ She nodded and squeezed my hand. ‘Tell me, when was the last time you confiscated drugs at school?’
She frowned. ‘Well, that little toerag, Watson – Iain – had some marijuana taken off him at the end of term, but before that … oh, not for a while. Not for a long while. Back in March, I think, that business with Liam Markham.’
‘That was pills, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, ecstasy – or something purporting to be ecstasy, in any case, and Rohypnol. He was excluded.’
I vaguely remembered the incident, though it’s not the sort of thing I involve myself in. ‘There’s been nothing since? You haven’t come across any diet pills, have you?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘No. Nothing illegal, in any case. Some of the girls take those blue ones – what do they call them? Alli, I think. It’s available over the counter, although I don’t think it’s supposed to be sold to minors.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘It makes them horribly flatulent, but apparently that’s an acceptable price to pay for a thigh gap.’
‘To pay for a what?’
Helen rolled her eyes at me. ‘A thigh gap! They all want legs so skinny they don’t meet at the top. Honestly, Sean, sometimes I think you live on a different planet.’ She squeezed my hand again. ‘Sometimes I wish I lived there with you.’
We went up to bed together for the first time in a long time, but I couldn’t touch her. Not after what I’d done.
WEDNESDAY, 19 AUGUST
Erin
IT TOOK HAIRY the science guy about five minutes to find the email receipt for the diet pills in Nel Abbott’s spam folder. As far as he could tell, she only bought the pills on one occasion, unless of course she had another email account which was no longer in use.
‘Odd, isn’t it?’ commented one of the uniforms, one of the older guys whose name I haven’t bothered to learn. ‘She was such a thin woman. Wouldn’t have thought she needed them. The sister, she was the fat one.’
‘Jules?’ I said. ‘She isn’t fat.’
‘Oh, aye, not now, but you should have seen her back in the day.’ He started laughing. ‘She was a heifer.’
Fucking charming.
Since Sean told me about the pills, I’ve been swotting up on Katie Whittaker. It was pretty clear cut, although the question of why loomed large – as is so often the case. Her parents didn’t suspect anything was up. Her teachers said that perhaps she’d been a little distracted, maybe a bit more reserved than usual, but there were no red flags. Her bloodwork was clean. She’d no history of self-harm.
The only thing – and it wasn’t much of a thing – was an alleged falling-out with her best friend, Lena Abbott. A couple of Katie’s school friends claimed that Lena and Katie had had a disagreement about something. Louise, Katie’s mother, said they’d been seeing less of each other, but she didn’t think there had been an argument. If there had been, she said, Katie would have mentioned it. They’d had fights in the past – teenage girls will do that – and Katie had always been upfront about it with her mum. And in the past, they’d always kissed and made up. After one fight, Lena had felt bad enough to give Katie a necklace.
These school friends though – Tanya Something and Ellie Something Else – said that something big was up, though they couldn’t say what. All they knew was that a month or so before Katie died, she and Lena had what they called a ‘vicious argument’ that ended in them being physically separated by a teacher. Lena hotly denied it, claiming Tanya and Ellie had it in for her, that they were just trying to get her into trouble. Certainly Louise had never heard of this row, and the teacher involved – Mark Henderson – claimed it wasn’t really an argument at all. They were play-fighting, he said. Messing about. It got very noisy and he told them to quieten down. And that was it.
I skimmed over that when I was reading Katie’s file, but I kept coming back to it. Something felt off. Do teenage girls play-fight? It seems like something teenage boys would be more likely to do. Perhaps I’ve internalized more sexism than I care to admit. But I was just looking at pictures of those girls – pretty, poised, Katie in particular very well groomed – and they didn’t look much like play-fighters to me.
When I parked the car outside the Mill House, I heard a noise and glanced up. Lena was leaning out of one of the upstairs windows, a cigarette in her hand.
‘Hello, Lena,’ I called out. She didn’t say anything, but, very deliberately, took aim and flicked the cigarette butt in my direction. Then she withdrew, slamming the window shut. I don’t buy the play-fighting thing at all: I imagine that when Lena Abbott fights, she fights for real.
Jules let me in, glancing nervously over my shoulder as she did so.
‘Everything all right?’ I asked her. She looked awful: haggard, grey, eyes bleary, hair unwashed.
‘I can’t sleep,’ she said softly. ‘I just don’t seem to be able to get to sleep.’
She shuffled through to the kitchen, flicked the kettle on and slumped down at the table. She reminded me of my sister three weeks after she gave birth to her twins – barely enough strength to hold her head up.
‘Perhaps you ought to get the doctor to prescribe you something,’ I suggested, but she shook her head.
‘I don’t want to sleep too deeply,’ she said, her eyes widening, giving her a manic cast. ‘I need to be alert.’
I could have said that I’d seen greater alertness from coma patients, but I didn’t.
‘This Robbie Cannon you were asking about,’ I said. She twitched, and chewed on a nail. ‘We had a little look into him. You’re right about him being violent – he’s got a couple of domestic-violence convictions, amongst other things. But he wasn’t involved in your sister’s death. I went over to Gateshead – that’s where he lives – and had a little chat with him. He was in Manchester visiting his son the night Nel died. He says he hasn’t seen her in years, but when he read about her death in the local paper he decided he would come up here to pay his respects. He seemed pretty gobsmacked that we were asking him about it at all.’
‘Did he …’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Did he mention me? Or Lena?’
‘No. He didn’t. Why do you ask? Has he been here?’ I thought of the tentative way in which she’d opened the front door, the way she’d looked over my shoulder as though watching out for someone.
‘No. I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know.’
I managed to get nothing more out of her on the subject. It was clear that she was frightened of him for some reason, but she wouldn’t say why. It was unsatisfactory, but I left it at that, as I had another awkward subject to raise.