‘Where?’
‘Here. At the house.’
‘Can anyone back that up?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I was on my own. Oh,’ as if she’d just remembered, ‘I waved to Martin Johnson in the flats at lunchtime when I went upstairs to put an extra jumper on.’
‘No one else? You didn’t leave the house at all? Buy a pint of milk or take a walk?’
‘No.’
‘Did anyone ring you on the landline?’ Adam said. ‘Phone calls?’
Shit. What if someone had called? Would it come up on the records? Focus, Rowan, worry about that if it comes to it; you’ll have to say you were in the bathroom or something. She narrowed her eyes as if she were thinking. ‘No . . . no, I don’t think so.’ From the corner of her eye she saw Grange make a note in his little book and sweat bloomed under her arms. ‘God, I just don’t know – I’m sorry. I’ll check my email, my mobile, see if that helps me remember anything. But I was here, all afternoon, I know I was.’
‘If you do think of anything,’ Grange asked, ‘ring us, will you?’
‘How about Bryony?’ Adam said.
‘Cast-iron alibi.’ Theo gave a dry smile.
‘Really?’
‘She was at school.’
When the police were gone, Adam walked to the bottom of the stairs and sat down. She looked at him, uncertain what to do. He’d withdrawn, pulled away into himself: his eyes were open but unfocused. She wondered if he even saw her: when she sat down next to him and put her arm around his back, he jumped. For a long time – a minute, maybe two – neither of them spoke.
‘Ad, what can I do?’
A delay, as if her voice had reached him via satellite. ‘Nothing,’ he said. His face was blank. ‘I just need some space. To think. Do you mind?’
It made sense, it was completely reasonable, and yet the request turned her stomach. ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘I’ll have a shower and then I’ll go out. To the library. Perhaps work is what I need – distraction.’
She waited but he only nodded. As she stood to go upstairs, the landline rang, too loud in the fraught silence. Adam seemed to hesitate, it rang and rang, but then, just when she thought it would ring out, he stood and grabbed the handset.
She was too far away to hear what the tiny voice at the other end asked him but she saw how Adam gripped the phone, the way the tendons stood up on the back of his hand. ‘I’ve no comment now,’ he said, ‘nor will I have at any point. Don’t call this number again.’
He stood across the kitchen and watched as she packed her laptop and books. She hoped he couldn’t see how much her hands were shaking.
Cory’s drawing was on the table where he’d left it last night. When she’d come back downstairs with it, he’d looked at it carefully. Her heart had flailed then, too, and into her head had come his response the first time he’d seen it. Does he like you? ‘I was thinking about what Mazz said when we had a drink after Christmas,’ he’d said after a minute, maybe even longer, ‘about getting in touch with you again, sorting out what happened back then. She said Michael was helping her get her head straight.’
Into the silence now, Adam spoke again. ‘Why did you and Mazz fall out?’
‘What?’
‘Back then. What did you argue about?’
She shook her head. ‘Ad, you know all this. You’ve got enough to worry about without going back through all . . .’
‘I’m not sure I do know. Not really.’ He looked at her, waiting.
The old story; there was no time to come up with anything better. ‘Because I pushed her too hard after your dad died,’ she said. ‘Marianne wanted space, time alone, but I was afraid of losing her.’ She paused, sweat prickling in her hairline.
‘Why would you have lost her?’
‘I don’t know. It just felt like everything was changing. She’d made those big sales to Dorotea Perling and I was afraid she was going to be so successful, such a supernova, I’d lose her that way. And then things fell apart here. Your dad . . .’
Georgina Parry’s black hatchback was parked frankly at the kerb outside. As Rowan opened the front door, she saw her look up at once. When she turned to say goodbye to Adam, she could feel the woman’s eyes on her back.
‘Speak to you later on,’ she said. ‘If you need me at all, just call. I won’t be doing anything that can’t be interrupted.’
He nodded but by the time she reached the foot of the steps, he’d closed the door behind her. As she crossed the gravel, however, Parry’s car door came open.
‘Morning. How are you?’ Her quick footsteps followed Rowan down the pavement. ‘The police were here earlier, weren’t they? You know that Michael Cory’s death is definitely being treated as murder now.’