‘You didn’t want to pursue her, to finish what she started?’
‘Yes, I can see how you’d think that,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘But I’m not really the type to pursue anything. I don’t really have it in me.’
‘You’re doing an English PhD at Cambridge,’ says Manon. ‘You must be able to pursue things rather vigorously.’
‘Gosh. Vigorous. What a terrific word, Sergeant. It’s certainly never been used to describe me. But you’re right, of course. Poetry is my secret weapon. Give me a spot of Gerard Manley Hopkins and I soar. In all other areas of my life, I’m a total fuck-up. No one believes I’ll finish my PhD, least of all me.’
‘How did you get home from the pub?’
‘I walked – well, fell, really – down Grange Road to my rooms in Leckhampton House. Porter’ll confirm it, and no doubt some of your evil big brother cameras have me weaving about the streets. And then I spent the night with the lovely Ros or Rosie – at least, I think that’s her name – who happened to be in the kitchen when I got back. Your chaps are checking with her now, I believe.’
‘And Edith went back in to find Helena Reed.’
‘The Limpet. Whenever Edith turns around, the Limpet’s sure to be there.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Ask yourself why Helena lives in Huntingdon. I mean, Edith and Will, they’re cocks with a project. But Helena? What’s she doing there? Bit suffocating, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Go on.’
‘Ask the Limpet what Edith gave her as an early Christmas present.’
‘Why don’t you stop beating around the bush, Mr Farrer, and tell me what you mean.’
He stops, looks down to the floor by his side, his arms dangling, and Manon wonders if he’s going to be sick. He has the soaked-in drunkenness of someone who’s been marinating in it for some time – days, probably.
‘They were at it. Edith told me – when we went outside the pub together. Of course, it could be she was just trying to turn me on.’
‘What did she say exactly?’
‘She said she’d been having it off with Helena and now she couldn’t get rid of her.’ He lets out another high-pitched giggle.
‘Did you expect this type of behaviour from Edith?’ asks Manon.
‘Well, no, it wasn’t typical. But Cambridge is full of people toeing the line, swotting in libraries to please Daddy, and then rebelling and taking up crack or throwing themselves out of a tower. You know we actually have a day called Suicide Sunday. It’s a fucked-up place, once you get under the skin of it. I figured Edith had just freaked out like the rest of us.’
The adrenalin has swept away Manon’s tiredness as she and Harriet pummel down the stairs towards interview room two, back to Helena Reed.
‘Is he reliable?’ Harriet asks, pushing through the double doors.
‘No, not at all. He’s drunk and feckless. But I don’t think he’s got any reason to lie about this.’
‘Unless he’s covering his own tracks.’
‘Let’s just see what she has to say.’
Helena looks up at them as they enter the room. Kim is standing by the wall with her hands clasped behind her back.
‘I told you, we’re friends,’ says Helena. She unloops her coral scarf and places it on her knees. The colour is high in her cheeks. ‘I’ve known her since our first day at Corpus. Sorry, may I have a drink of water?’
‘Just friends?’ asks Harriet, leaning both elbows on the table and scrutinising Helena.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she says. She looks up as Kim places a plastic cup in front of her. ‘Thank you.’
‘Jason Farrer says you and Edith were lovers,’ says Harriet.
‘Well, Jason Farrer’s lying,’ she says. ‘He’s not exactly trustworthy.’
‘He says Edith told him, when they went outside the pub together.’
She is looking wildly now at the two of them sitting opposite her, and Manon senses she cannot see them. Her skin has taken on a sweaty sheen.
‘Oh God,’ she whispers, covering her entire face with her hands.
‘Were you jealous when Edith went outside with Jason Farrer?’ asks Harriet.
Helena keeps her face covered.
‘Did you confront Edith about it when you got home to George Street? Things get a bit heated?’
‘No, no, no,’ she says, still with a hand shielding her eyes, her face directed at the door, away from their gaze. ‘It wasn’t like that … It was … I don’t know how to explain it to you because I don’t understand it myself.’
‘Helena, do you know what has happened to Edith?’ asks Harriet.
‘No, I don’t. I swear I don’t.’
‘Do you think Will Carter found out about your affair?’
‘I don’t think so, no.’