‘Louise Williams?’
I agree that I am, and she introduces herself as Detective Inspector Reynolds, asking me to come and sit down with her in the corner where there is a desk with a laptop and a few chairs.
‘Thanks for coming in, Ms Williams.’
‘Louise,’ I say automatically.
‘Louise. PC Wells tells me that you were here last night at the school reunion.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ I feel as if I am in a dream, floating above myself. What has happened to my carefully ordered life, where has it gone? How did I end up here?
‘You’ve heard what has happened, obviously?’
‘Yes, I saw it on the news.’
‘So, as you know, we have found the body of a woman in the woods. The victim had her bag with her, so we’ve been able to make a provisional identification.’
‘So… are you able to tell me?’ Please God, let it be someone I don’t know.
‘Yes.’ I can tell that she is watching me closely. ‘The victim is Sophie Hannigan.’
My face somehow stays neutral but my body feels trembly and effervescent, as if my blood has been replaced with carbonated water.
‘You didn’t know her?’ She sounds disappointed. She was expecting a gasp, tears, even a small scream. But as I stare at her unmoving, clearly struggling with the simple task of breathing in and out, the truth begins to dawn on her.
‘You did know her?’
I nod without speaking and Reynolds sits in silence too, allowing me the time to process the information. She probably thinks I am in shock, but I am not shocked. All that happens is that the dull ache in my stomach that has been there since I first heard the news back in the Travelodge intensifies. It twists and grips. This is what I have been expecting all along.
‘Yes, I knew her,’ I manage eventually. Did I really? ‘I mean she’s not a close friend now, but she was once. I hadn’t seen her since school, apart from once, a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Why was that? Where did you see her?’ She looks interested. I think fast. I can’t tell her about the friend request from Maria; it brings up too many other questions, questions I don’t want to answer.
‘I contacted her when I found out about the reunion… thought it would be nice to meet up beforehand. I hadn’t really stayed in touch with anyone since school, and I thought it might be a bit much, turning up at the reunion cold, if you know what I mean. Meeting up with Sophie that night made the whole thing easier.’
‘How did you get hold of her?’
‘On Facebook.’ I try to keep my voice level.
‘And how was she, that night?’
‘Fine. Looking forward to the reunion. She didn’t seem to have changed much since our school days, not really.’
‘And was there anyone she was looking forward or not looking forward to seeing at the reunion?’
‘She was excited about it, but she didn’t mention anyone in particular. I don’t think she had any qualms or fears. She was one of those popular girls at school, you know?’
‘Mm hmm.’ She tries to maintain her blank facade but I can tell she wasn’t one of those girls herself, and also that she knows I wasn’t either. I can see DI Reynolds at sixteen, as tall and wide as she is now, her hair longer then, hanging greasily down her back, lumbering into the classroom, tripping over her chair, the pretty girls sniggering. Always at the front of the class, top marks for everything. Knowing, however, that popularity at school isn’t everything, waiting it out, best results the school has ever seen, and then off. Off to university where she could reinvent herself, find her tribe.
‘OK. Moving on to the reunion itself, do you remember when you last saw Sophie?’
‘Around ten o’clock, I think.’
‘Is that when you left?’
‘No, I left around eleven, but I don’t think I saw her later than ten.’
‘Did you spend much time with her?’
‘Not a great deal, no. We chatted, caught up, you know. There were a lot of people there.’
‘And how did she seem?’
I think of Sophie clutching my arm, panicking. She was frightened.
‘She seemed fine,’ I say, unable to quell my own panic. I’m digging myself in deeper and deeper here, so scared of saying the wrong thing that I’m not telling Reynolds anything at all. ‘Although, as I said, I hadn’t seen her for years, so I don’t know if she was her usual self or not.’
‘Did she spend time talking to anyone in particular?’
‘I saw her talking to Claire Barnes, Sam Parker, Matt Lewis…’ I list a few more names, trying to recall each time I heard her laugh, saw her kissing people extravagantly, tossing her hair. Reynolds is taking it all in.
‘And did she come to the reunion with anyone?’ she asks.
I hesitate – just a tiny bit, but she’s good, she notices straight away. For some absurd reason I feel guilty about dropping Pete in it, which is ridiculous as other people are bound to mention it.
‘Sophie was at the reunion with a man. Pete.’
‘A boyfriend?’ Reynolds’ ears prick up. I’ve got the stick and she can sense that I’m about to throw it for her. ‘Do you know his surname?’
‘No, sorry. I don’t think he was exactly a boyfriend either; apparently they’d only been out a couple of times before. She met him online.’
‘And she brought him to her school reunion?’ She looks sceptical.
‘I know. I asked her about that, but she said she didn’t want to come on her own, not with everyone else married and talking about their children and stuff.’ My voice falters and tears gather in my throat. Poor foolish, vain Sophie. I’ve been so busy berating myself for being wrapped up in what my teenage friends think of me, it never occurred to me until now that Sophie had cared even more than I did, with her pretend job in fashion… her borrowed flat… Pete. I think of Esther with her trophy husband glued to her side, passing round pictures of her children on her phone. None of us are immune, it seems.
‘Take your time.’ Reynolds’ voice is kind, but she is watching me carefully.
‘It looked like they were having an argument, towards the end of the evening. Not long before I last saw her.’
‘And was that the last time you saw him? Did he leave without her? Or was he there looking for her at the end?’