‘Yes. They were good friends of Sophie’s at school.’
‘More than friends, do you think? With either of them?’
‘Matt had a crush on her back then but I don’t know for sure if anything ever happened between them. They used to flirt, you know, but I think that was all it was, on her side anyway.’
‘And Sam?’
‘No,’ I say instantly. ‘Definitely not Sam.’
Too quick. Reynolds looks alert, interested. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘I don’t know if you already know this, but Sam and I were married. We split up two years ago.’
‘So you were… childhood sweethearts?’
‘No.’ What a repulsive phrase. She seems to think so too, the words foreign on her tongue. ‘I didn’t see him for years after we left school. We met again by chance in London ten years later, in ninety-nine.’
‘So what makes you so sure that Sophie never had a relationship with him?’
‘Well, I…’ What is it that makes me so certain? Because she knew I liked him? Do I honestly believe that would have stopped her? Because Sam never mentioned it? Maybe he wouldn’t have done; after all, it would have been ancient history by the time we got together.
My silence clearly speaks volumes to Reynolds and she moves on.
‘And what about in the years since school – had Sophie kept in touch with Matt or Sam, or anyone else at the reunion?’
‘I think she was in touch with some people – she told me when I saw her before the reunion that she still saw Claire Barnes, and Matt Lewis. Maybe some others too.’
‘Was there any hint that she had had any sort of sexual relationship with Matt as an adult?’
‘No, she didn’t mention anything like that. Just that she saw him from time to time.’
‘And Sam? Had she seen him since your school days?’
‘He didn’t see her while he and I were together, as far as I know. But I wouldn’t know about the last two years. He… he’s married again, with a baby. We only speak because we have to now, about our son.’ Bringing Henry into the conversation draws the knot in my chest a little tighter. Our son, who might be in danger because of me. Part of me wants to break down, to tell Reynolds everything, beg her to protect my son. But I try to rationalise it. How much danger can Henry be in? I won’t be letting him out of my sight again after yesterday. He’s safe at school. Sam’s got him tonight, so I texted him this morning to ask if he had plans to take Henry out anywhere tonight, and he said he would be picking him up from after-school club and going straight home. He’s four years old, so he’s never alone. I can protect him.
Reynolds is still looking at me enquiringly.
‘Things didn’t end all that well,’ I say. ‘Between me and Sam.’
‘How so?’
‘He left me for someone else.’ Even now I hate saying those words; hate the bald, hard fact of them. I wasn’t enough for him, even though I gave him everything I had. ‘Look, this hasn’t got anything to do with what happened to Sophie.’
She makes a face that says she’ll be the judge of that.
‘OK. So how did Sophie seem, the night of the reunion? Is there anything that gives you pause, in the light of what happened subsequently?’
‘She was fine. Happy, apart from the argument with Pete, although I have no idea what that was about. But to be honest, I wouldn’t know whether she was her normal self or not. Like I said, I hadn’t seen her for over twenty-five years, except for that one night a few weeks ago.’
‘And you – you weren’t in touch with anyone from school? Apart from Sam?’
‘No. They weren’t exactly the happiest days of my life.’
‘What about Sam? You said he wasn’t in contact with Sophie. What about other old school friends? Was he in touch with anyone?’
‘He went out occasionally with Matt Lewis, but not often. I’m afraid I wasn’t that interested. Happiest days and all that.’
I am prevaricating. It’s less that I wasn’t interested, more that I wanted nothing to do with Sharne Bay or our school days, and couldn’t understand why Sam didn’t want to cut the ties as well. On the nights he met up with Matt, I’d pretend to be asleep when he came in, mutter at him to tell me in the morning, and then when morning came find an excuse to be out of the house early.
‘And what about the other people at the reunion? We’re talking to the bar staff and the cleaners, of course, but there was a teacher there too, Mr Jenkins?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘I believe he was a teacher there when you were at school?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Surely they don’t suspect him?
‘Did you speak to him at all, or see him at any point in the evening?’
‘Mr Jenkins? Only when I arrived. He was on the door. Look, has someone said something?’
‘What do you mean?’ Her face is inscrutable.
‘Well… when we were at school there were all these rumours about him. That he was… you know… a pervert. Liked sneaking around, watching the girls get changed, that kind of thing.’
‘I see.’ She’s not giving anything anyway.
‘But I’ve no idea if there was any truth to them. He certainly never did anything to me, and I never heard anything first-hand. It was always someone who knew someone. You know what teenagers can be like, how things get around. I wouldn’t want to suggest that he… you know…’
‘Of course.’
Reynolds looks intently at me, her hands face down on the table.
‘I appreciate that you hadn’t seen Sophie for many years, and that you didn’t know much about her adult life, and of course we are pursuing various lines of enquiry,’ she says. ‘But we can’t ignore the fact that she was killed at her school reunion, an occasion loaded with significance at the best of times. Was there anything that happened in your school days, anything at all, that you think may have a bearing here?’
I think of Maria’s face, glaring defiantly at me from my computer; of Sophie silhouetted against coloured glass, gathering herself for what was to come; of Tim at the top of the school drive, gesticulating at a figure in a black coat; of a golden necklace, twisted around a sixteen-year-old girl’s finger a lifetime ago.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Nothing at all.’
Chapter 30
2016