‘I’ll be fine. Katie’s home. I’m going to have a tidy-up, I think.’ The house is a mess; the dining table we sat around only two weeks ago has reverted to its usual cluttered state. Last night I tipped out the receipts and invoices Graham gave me, but I can’t make a start on his books until I’ve cleared up.
He kisses me goodbye and I wish him luck. I hear him whistling as he unlocks the front door, and I smile to myself.
Katie emerges around eleven. Despite the bags under her eyes, and the line of kohl she hasn’t completely removed, she looks radiant.
‘It was amazing, Mum.’ She takes the tea I hand her and follows me into the dining room, where she pulls out a chair and sits down, hugging her knees to her chest. Her feet are encased in huge fluffy boots. ‘I didn’t need a single prompt, and at the end, someone actually stood up! I think it was someone Isaac knew, but even so.’
‘So there’s some money coming in, then?’
‘There will be. We have to pay the theatre hire, and box office costs, and that sort of thing first.’ I say nothing. I wonder if Isaac’s already taken his cut. Katie suddenly looks at me.
‘Why aren’t you at work?’
‘I’m off sick.’
‘Mum, why didn’t you say? You shouldn’t be doing that. Here, let me.’ She leaps up and takes a pile of files from me, looking around and eventually dumping them back on the table where they were. A receipt wafts off the table and on to the floor.
‘I’m not that sort of sick. Graham’s signed me off for a bit. Just while the police sort out this website nonsense.’ It feels good, dismissing it as nonsense. Empowering, Melissa would call it. I bend down to pick up the receipt, which has floated under the table.
Diet Coke ￡2.95.
I don’t know if it’s come from one of the piles of accounts, or whether it’s just another of the receipts we all crumple up and dump on the table.
The receipt is for a place called Espress Oh! A terrible name for a café, I think. It’s trying too hard; the laboured pun making you cringe, like those Curl Up and Dye hairdressers, or that salad bar in E16 called Lettuce Eat. I turn the receipt over and see the numbers ‘0364’ written in a hand I don’t recognise. A PIN, perhaps?
I put the receipt to one side. ‘Leave all this, love,’ I tell Katie, who is still moving papers around with helpful enthusiasm but little efficiency. ‘It’s easier if I do it. That way nothing gets mixed up.’ I let her tell me about the opening night – about the four-star review from Time Out, and the rush she got when they came on stage for a second curtain call – while I tidy and sort and rearrange the papers on the dining table. The process makes me feel calmer, as though simply by tidying the house I can get some control over my life.
I’d never have asked Graham for time off, and I’m grateful to him for forcing my hand. At least now I can stay at home while the police do whatever they’re doing to solve this case. I’m through with detective work. Let them take the risks; I’m staying here, where it’s safe.
29
Espress Oh! had an uninviting exterior which made the sign in the window claiming the ownership of ‘the best coffee in London’ seem a little unlikely. The door stuck slightly, eventually giving in and propelling Kelly inside with such force she almost fell over.
‘CCTV,’ she said to Nick triumphantly, pointing to the sticker on the wall that said Smile, you’re on camera! Inside, the café was much bigger than first appearances had suggested. Signs informed customers there was more seating upstairs, and a spiral staircase led down to what Kelly presumed were the toilets, judging from the steady stream of people going up and down them. The noise levels were high; conversations competing with the hiss of the vast silver coffee machine behind the counter. ‘We’d like to speak to the manager, please.’
‘You’ll be lucky?’ The girl on the till was Australian, her accent turning everything she said into a question. ‘If you need to make a complaint, we’ve got a form for it, yeah?’
‘Who’s in charge today?’ Kelly said, flipping open her warrant card so the badge was showing.
The girl didn’t seem fazed. She looked slowly and deliberately around the café. There were two other baristas, one wiping tables and the other piling coffee cups into an industrial dishwasher, with such speed and ferocity Kelly was amazed they didn’t shatter. ‘I guess that would be me? I’m Dana.’ She wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Jase, take the till for a bit? We can go upstairs.’
The first floor of Espress Oh! was filled with leather sofas that looked as though they should be comfortable, but were actually too hard and too shiny to want to settle into for long. Dana looked between Nick and Kelly expectantly. ‘What can we do for you?’
‘Do you have WiFi here?’ Nick asked.
‘Sure. Do you want the code?’
‘Not right now, thank you. Is it free for customers to use?’