‘Move your foot.’
I shift and Grayling retrieves them, opening the door for me and I walk into the dim hall. Josh stares at the detective over my shoulder while I deal with the alarm. He grabs at my hair, tangles his hands in it and starts to scream. Grayling is silhouetted by the street light.
‘It’s all right, son,’ Grayling says, flicking the light switch. ‘He must have thought I was the burglar.’ He smiles sheepishly. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.’ I actually like this man. He’s sensible and intelligent and seems sympathetic. The girls cling to my legs, gazing at him. ‘So, what’s happening? Why are you here?’
‘We’ve brought someone in. He’s helping with our inquiries at this stage, but if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to put you and Mrs Collins in front of an identity parade.’
‘When? I mean, we’ve only just got in and we’ve been out all day. Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?’
Tom takes the baby from me, detaching his fingers one at a time. ‘I’ll make them their supper,’ he says. ‘You do what you have to do.’
I turn to Grayling, raising my eyebrows.
‘Now would be ideal, if you can bear it. We can’t keep him in much longer. I’ll take you. One of my officers is picking up Mrs Collins.’
‘Oh fuck,’ Tom roars from the kitchen. ‘I don’t believe this.’ The kitchen door bursts open and Emily runs out.
‘There’s water,’ she says, wide-eyed. ‘Everywhere!’
I turn away from Grayling and hurry after her. She wasn’t exaggerating. I look up at the ceiling. There’s a large round wet patch from which water is dripping rapidly, splashing into a small lake on the stone at my feet. Tom bangs a saucepan down underneath it, hands me Josh and runs upstairs. Moments later I hear him shout for the girls. I glance at Grayling, who nods and smiles, as if to say, Take your time.
‘Can you give me a minute?’ I ask.
‘Sure. No problem. I’ll be in the car.’
Tom is standing in the bathroom doorway, with Polly and Emily. The floor is flooded, the blue and white lino tiles ruined. Even the landing carpet squelches underfoot.
‘Da,’ Josh says, pointing at his father.
Polly puts her thumb in her mouth and gazes at me with wide, anxious eyes.
‘Which one of you was it?’ Tom asks.
On cue, both girls shake their heads, but Polly’s bottom lip trembles whilst Emily remains firm in her defiance.
‘It wasn’t me,’ she says.
‘Polly?’ I crouch down and stare into her eyes. ‘Did you do this, darling? Tell me the truth.’
‘I didn’t,’ she says.
I keep looking at her. Tom puts his hand on her head and strokes her hair.
‘Are you sure you didn’t? It could have been an accident. You can tell me.’
Tears run down her cheeks and I glance up at him and frown. I don’t know what to do. I’ve got Grayling waiting downstairs, but we need to deal with this. It’s already too late to be cross with her, but we can’t just ignore it. Josh wriggles so I set him down. He needs a bath anyway. He crawls straight over to his sister and gazes up at her in mute concern and soon they’re both howling. I can’t get a word of sense out of Polly and Tom has already hurried downstairs with Emily hard on his heels to fetch the mop. I pick up Josh and take them both into the girls’ bedroom.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say, wiping her tragic face with one of Josh’s muslins, Josh under the other arm, clinging to me. Tom clumps back upstairs with the bucket and mop.
‘You’d better get off,’ he says.
‘Will you try and find out what happened?’
‘There’s no point. It’s far too late.’
‘OK. There’s no need to snap at me, Tom.’
‘Sorry. But I refuse to ruin a lovely day.’
‘And you think I want to?’
The whole business has upset me more than I thought possible. Polly has never been devious. Yes, she can be destructive, but she always confesses and always says that she’s sorry. I’ve never known her to tell lies. Maybe, I’ve wronged her. Maybe it was Emily. But even that’s out of character. Emily can be a little madam, but she’s never deliberately got her sister into trouble. And now Tom and I are getting at each other. All I want is a glass of wine and a takeaway, but I have a police car waiting for me, and I’m going to be seeing Amber sooner than I expected.
17
THE POLICEWOMAN EXECUTES a neat U-turn and heads towards the London Road. Traffic is backed up at the lights and there’s a problem with a double-decker bus way ahead of us, so we’re stuck for a while. I explained what had happened as I hurried out of the house with Grayling, but since then I’ve been silent. The damage is considerable, passing through the house from the top floor all the way to the kitchen. The tap must have been on full flow, twisted hard round, for it to have achieved that. It was no accident. I wonder what I’ve done wrong, or what Tom’s done, to have made Polly or Emily do it. It’s so out of character. The stool had been placed at the bottom of the pedestal and that smacks of Polly. Emily doesn’t need it any more. Polly has always been the uncomplicated child, the child who wears her emotions on her sleeve.
Grayling twists round and says conversationally, ‘I hear you’ve been to the coast for the day.’
I gather my thoughts. ‘Yes.’
‘Whereabouts?’
‘Bognor Regis.’
He catches my eye in the mirror and crow’s feet fan out as he smiles.
‘My mum lives there,’ I say, defensive of poor maligned Bognor. ‘And it’s where I grew up. There’s loads for the children to do.’
‘Good to get away from London.’
I catch him looking at me. His expression is benign, almost avuncular, as if he wants me to think his interest is friendly and unthreatening, but since he’s made it clear that he’s sceptical, that cuts no ice.
The traffic moves and we make it halfway to the crossroads. The bus is surrounded by orange cones, its engine door open. As we edge slowly past, a teenage girl waiting at the bus stop looks up from her phone and straight into my eyes. I recognize the waitress from Jenny’s party.
You’ll never guess who I saw in the back of a police car. Vicky Seagrave.
I twist round and peer through the rear window. Her eyes are glued to her phone again. I lean back against the leather seats and close my eyes. I have to get a grip. I’m on my way to help with inquiries, not under suspicion. One day I’ll be relating this as an anecdote. People will laugh at my consternation.
Grayling breaks my thoughts. ‘You and Mrs Collins are very good friends.’
Does he have any inkling how loaded that question is? He must do, as Jenny must have done when she brought the subject up. He’s an intuitive and thoughtful man. This isn’t merely an exercise in polite conversation.
‘I’ve known her since before Emily was born.’
‘My wife has a best mate but they’re always falling out. Drives me nuts.’ He flicks his eyes at the mirror and catches mine momentarily. ‘I don’t understand it myself. Male friendships are much simpler.’