‘Oh,’ he smiles politely, ‘right. I’m sorry, I don’t …’
I’m caught off guard. I’d been so sure he was following me this morning. But he wasn’t watching me. He doesn’t even remember me.
‘No, well, why would you?’ Now I feel stupid. ‘I’ve made you miss the train. I’m sorry.’
‘There’ll be another along in a minute.’ Since we’ve been talking the platform has filled up again with people jostling to be at the front of the queue, clusters forming at regular intervals down the line, behind commuters with inside knowledge of where the doors will open.
As long as you’re all right.’ He hesitates. ‘If you need support there are people who listen … the Samaritans, maybe.’
I’m confused, then I realise what he’s saying. ‘I wasn’t trying to kill myself.’
He isn’t convinced. ‘Okay. Well, they’re there to help. You know, if you need them.’
Another burst of warm air; the rumble of an approaching train.
‘I’d better …’ He gestures vaguely towards the tracks.
‘Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you. And thank you again. I’m going to walk, I think. Get some fresh air.’
‘It was a pleasure to meet you …’ he closes with a question.
‘Zoe. Zoe Walker.’
‘Luke Friedland.’ He offers a hand. I hesitate, then shake it. He steps on to the train; smiles politely as the doors close and the train pulls away. I see a flash of a smile before the carriage disappears into the tunnel.
I don’t walk. I wait for the next train, taking care to stand well away from the edge of the platform. The thought that has been lurking at the corner of my mind finally takes shape.
Did I trip?
Or was I pushed?
14
DCI Digby hadn’t changed much in the four years since Kelly had last seen him. A little greyer around the temples, perhaps, but still young for his age, with the sharp, perceptive eyes Kelly remembered so well. He wore a well-fitting suit with a pale grey pinstripe, and shoes that shone to military standards too engrained to ever be forgotten.
‘Golf,’ he said, in response to Kelly’s compliment. ‘Always swore I’d never spend my retirement on the golf course, but Barbara said it was that or a part-time job – she didn’t want me under her feet all day. Turns out I rather enjoy it.’
‘How long have you got left?’
‘I retire in April next year. I thought about staying on, but the way we’ve been shafted lately, I’m glad to be going, to be honest.’ He took off his glasses and rested his forearms on the table between them. ‘But you didn’t call me out of the blue to find out my retirement plans. What’s going on?’
‘I’d like a secondment to Operation FURNISS,’ Kelly said.
The DCI didn’t speak. He looked appraisingly at Kelly, who didn’t flinch. Diggers had mentored Kelly when she had first joined the job, taking her on as a DC on the Sexual Offences Unit, where he was the detective inspector.
Outstanding candidate, her board feedback read. A tenacious and perceptive investigator, with high levels of victim care and clear potential for the next rank.
‘Sir, I know I messed up,’ she began.
‘You assaulted a prisoner, Kelly. That’s more than messing up. That’s six months inside, on D wing with the narks and the nonces.’ Her stomach knotted: the ball of shame and anxiety that had followed her around for the last three years.
‘I’ve changed, sir.’ She’d had counselling; six months of anger management classes that had served only to make her more angry. She’d passed with flying colours, of course; it was easy to give the right answers when you knew the game to play. The real answers would have been less palatable to the police-payroll therapist, who claimed not to judge, but had visibly blanched when Kelly had answered the question How did it feel to hit him? with It felt good.
She’d kept the truth to herself from that point. Do you regret your actions? Not in the slightest. Could you have taken any other course of action? None that would have given me such satisfaction. Would you do it again?
Would she?
The jury was still out.
‘I’ve been back for two years, now, boss,’ she told Diggers. She tried a small smile. ‘I’ve served my time.’ Diggers either didn’t notice, or didn’t appreciate, the joke. ‘I’ve recently finished a three-month attachment to the Dip Squad, and I’d like to get some experience of a Murder Investigation Team.’
‘What’s wrong with doing that in your own force?’
‘I think I’d learn a lot from working in a Met environment,’ Kelly said, the grounds for her request prepared in advance; slipping easily off the tongue, ‘and I know you’ve got one of the strongest teams.’