‘So, Leo, I just need to ask you a couple of quick questions about Tuesday afternoon, is that OK?’
He stiffens and I curse inwardly.
‘It’s nothing to worry about. You want to get your sister home safe, don’t you?’
He nods then, but he doesn’t do it straight away, and he doesn’t look at me either. He reaches across and picks up the can of Coke Gareth Quinn gave him and starts playing with it. You don’t need to be a child psychologist to work out there’s some sort of displacement going on here. Or that the truth – whatever it is – is troubling him. And yet here am I, crashing in with my lead boots on. ‘You walked home from school with Daisy that day, am I right?’
He nods. ‘Mum was too busy.’ His head is still down. I can scarcely see him behind the heavy dark fringe.
‘Did you walk home together all the way?’
He nods again.
‘Are you sure? Because we thought you might have had some sort of a fight.’
He looks at me now. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Your mum. She said you and Daisy came home separately. She thought you must have had an argument.’
Back to the Coke can again. ‘She saw some stupid butterfly and she wanted me to take a picture of it, but I wouldn’t.’
‘Why not? Doesn’t seem much to ask. Because she didn’t have a phone herself, did she?’
‘Mum wouldn’t let her.’
‘So why didn’t you take the picture?’
He shrugs. ‘Dunno.’
‘So what happened then?’
‘I left her there looking at it. I told her we had to get home because of the party and Mum would be angry, but she wouldn’t come. So I left her there.’
‘I see.’
I leave a pause, then, ‘So you support Chelsea, do you?’
He flashes me a quick look, then nods. He has beautiful violet-blue eyes, and incredibly long lashes. There’s something elfin about his face I can’t put my finger on.
‘One of my DCs supports Chelsea. Mad about them, he is. Who’s your favourite player?’
‘Eden Hazard.’
‘He’s the Belgian one, yes? Where does he play?’
‘He’s in midfield.’
‘Is that where you play?’
‘Dad says I’d be better off sticking to defence. He says I’m not quick enough for midfield.’
‘Does your dad take you to games?’
‘No. He says it costs too much and takes too much time to get there.’
‘London’s not that far away, surely?’
A shrug. ‘I went once with Ben and his dad. We beat Stoke three-nil. It was really good. He got me a scarf.’
‘Ben’s your best friend?’
Another shrug. ‘He used to be but he moved.’
‘So who’s your best friend now?’
Silence.
I’m beginning to realize just how lonely this kid is. Part of me wants to reach out and hold him and make it all better. But I can’t. Because the other part of me is about to make it worse. Sometimes, I bloody hate this job.
‘Leo, I’ve got a bit of a problem and I need you to help me with it.’
He’s staring intently at the empty can now, and his right leg is jigging up and down. I exchange a glance with the social worker.
‘You see, my problem is that your mum says Daisy got home quite a bit before you on Tuesday. Which doesn’t really make sense if you say you left her behind looking at the butterfly. Do you see what I mean?’
A pause and a nod – barely a movement at all. His cheeks are red now.
‘You just need to tell me what happened, that’s all. You’re not in any trouble.’
The social worker leans forward and puts his hand gently on Leo’s arm. ‘It’s OK, Leo. You can tell the police officer. It’s always better to tell the truth, eh?’
And that’s how it all comes out.
*
Gislingham pushes open the door of the Year Four classroom. The afternoon sun is streaming in through the windows, falling slantwise on a poster of the alphabet in animals, and a banner saying WHAT WE ARE GOING TO DO IN THE HOLIDAYS. Under it the children have written things and stuck pictures to them, cut out of magazines. Two or three are going to Disneyland, one to New Zealand. Daisy appears to be most excited about going on a ferry for the first time, and Nanxi Chen will be visiting her cousins in New York. But at this precise moment she’s sitting with Kate Madigan and Verity Everett, in the far corner of the room.
Gislingham beckons to Everett, who gets up and comes over. He lowers his voice. ‘I left a message for the boss. They’re interviewing the boy right now.’ He glances at his watch. ‘Sod it, I’m supposed to pick up Janet in twenty minutes. It’s her eighteen-week scan.’
He doesn’t say, but Everett knows it’s their first child, and at forty-two, after three miscarriages, she’s going to want him there.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘You go and I’ll finish up here. Alison Stevens says the Dawsons can see us at two so I’ll go round after this and meet you later.’
‘You OK getting to the house?’
She smiles. ‘It’s only a ten-minute walk. I think I can manage.’
If Everett had worried about getting Nanxi Chen to open up, it’s soon obvious that she has rather the opposite problem on her hands. Nanxi has the confidence of a child twice her age, and a full-on American frankness to go with it. Daisy Mason, in her opinion, is ‘super-smart’ and ‘really sassy’. She does the best handstands in class (Kate Madigan smiles sadly at this) and tells the most awesome stories, though Portia is better at drawing, and Daisy’s no good at dancing at all, even though she thinks she is. Millie Connor is best at that, but she’s a bit stupid otherwise (a mild rebuke and a blush from teacher at this one).
‘And what are you good at, Nanxi?’ asks Everett.
‘Oh, math. My dad wants me to go to MIT like he did.’
Everett has no idea what MIT is, but she gets the picture.
‘So how has Daisy been at school recently? Was there anything worrying her at all?’
Nanxi considers for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose there was one thing. But it was a secret. She only told us because we’re her BFFs.’
Everett does her best not to look overeager. ‘What secret, Nanxi?’
The girl looks doubtful suddenly, as if she’s realized she’s already said too much, but Kate Madigan encourages her. ‘It’s OK, Nanxi – I’m sure Detective Everett won’t tell anyone.’
‘Daisy didn’t tell me what it was. She said one day she was meeting someone and it was a secret. She seemed really excited at first, but then she said it was nothing and she wasn’t going to see them again.’
‘And she didn’t tell you who it was she’d seen? A grown-up? Another child?’
A vigorous shake of the head.
‘And was she upset after she saw this person?’
Nanxi considers. ‘No, not upset. She wasn’t crying or anything. I think she was just mad.’
Which, as Everett reminds herself, means something very different in America.
‘Was Daisy happy at home, Nanxi?’
Nanxi makes a face. ‘Like, seriously? Have you seen that house?’
Kate intervenes quickly. ‘Now, Nanxi, that’s not a nice thing to say. We don’t judge people by how much money they have, do we?’
Nanxi looks as if money’s the only reliable yardstick you’re ever likely to get, but she doesn’t say anything.
‘What I really meant was whether Daisy was happy with her family?’
‘Well, Leo’s kinda weird. A bit wimpy kid. And her mom’s always on at her about her marks.’
‘And what about her father? Everyone says they’re really close.’
‘I guess so, only – ’
‘Only?’
‘He used to be, like, her hero or her Prince Charming or something. But she doesn’t talk about him like that any more. She doesn’t even call him Daddy.’
‘So what does she call him, Nanxi?’
The girl looks at Everett, a world of knowing suddenly in her eyes. ‘She calls him the He Pig.’