Jo hands me back the phone and pushes her glasses onto her hair. ‘Your neighbours are obviously a bit weird, Lena.’ She picks up her knife and fork and concern floods her face. ‘Please be careful. You don’t know what they’recapable of. Promise me you won’t go into their house again.’
‘I promise. It’s strange. I feel conflicted because I like Marielle. And I feel sorry for her. But Henry … I still think he knows more about Drew’s sister. He’s really cagey about it, according to Drew, and he was threatening when Drew asked him about it after realizing that Henry has a classic blue car and Sarah-Jane was being followed by one.’
‘Leave it to Drew,’ she says, through a mouthful of sourdough. ‘It’s not your business, hon.’ She reaches across the table and takes my hand. I notice a new flower tattoo on her wrist. ‘I know things are tough right now. Everything is up in the air, with Charlie. And Rufus. But, please, don’t get involved.’
After our lunch we say goodbye and Jo walks up the hill to work. I continue past College Green and the central library.
The central library.I pause outside its impressive doors, remembering Marielle telling me about her daughter-in-law, Heidi, and how she worked there on a Thursday. It’s Thursday today, and this morning when I woke up Henry’s car was parked outside, so they must have travelled back especially to look after their grandson. Does Marielle use the fake baby when the real one is back with his mother? What does Henry make of it? He must know his wife has this – thislife-sized doll. Is Marielle having some kind of mental breakdown? Is that why Henry lets her have the doll? On occasion I’ve noticed he’s almost irritated by her, especially the way he reacted when I asked him about the key Phoenix had found in their garden.
The library is cavernous, but I might be able to find Heidi. I could just ask her a few innocent questions, that’s all. No harm done. I know I promised Jo, but this will be the last thing. I need to find out, for my peace of mind. After all, I’m the one living next door to them. Not Jo.
I’ve always loved this library, but I haven’t been inside since Rufus was younger. We used to wander around gazing in awe at the domed glass roof and the beautiful floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. It was like a museum. As soon as I step into the foyer and inhale the familiar scent of polished wood and dusty books I’m transported back in time and, once again, I feel the nostalgic pull deep within. The yearning to turn back the clock. I spend half an hour perusing the books while keeping my eye open for Heidi. I’d forgotten how long the library is and it takes me a while to get from one end to the other. I can’t see her anywhere, and when I’m considering giving up, I spot her by the arts section. She’s bent down, unloading a trolley, neatly slotting books back onto one of the lower shelves. Yes, it’s definitely her. The same long dark curly hair and a similar bold-print maxi dress to the one she was wearing when I saw her with Marielle.
I steel myself. Then I head over to her on the pretence I’m looking for a book on architecture. She stands up, smiling pleasantly, and points me to a different section of the library. ‘Thanks so much. It’s Heidi, isn’t it?’
Confusion flits across her features. ‘No, I’m Lindy.’
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised and a bit embarrassed. ‘Sorry. I saw you with my neighbour, Marielle, the other day. I assumed you were her daughter-in-law, Heidi. You were with your baby.’
Her eyes light up. ‘Yes, I know Marielle. A lovely woman. She’s my old university lecturer. That was the first time I’ve seen her, oh, in years. We’ve kept in touch sporadically, and when she told me she was moving to Bristol I suggested lunch. She was so excited to meet my baby daughter, Lily.’
‘That’s lovely,’ I say. ‘Do you know Heidi? Marielle said she worked here too.’
She frowns. ‘No, there’s no Heidi here. And Marielle never mentioned it when I told her this is where I work. Anyway, nice to meet you,’ she says, turning back to her trolley of books. I say goodbye and walk away, wondering if Marielle lied about having a daughter-in-law. If so, does that mean that she’s also lied about having a son and a grandson?
23
It’s Friday, and I’m at Citizens Advice. I’ve just finished helping a client draft a legal letter to a supplier who has failed to pay their bill when I spot Drew sitting on a bench in the waiting area. He looks forlorn, his head dipped, his arms resting on his knees and his hands in prayer shape. He’s got on heavy workboots and jeans and must be sweltering.
I feel sick when I remember I went to his house out of hours and we exchanged numbers. I’ve crossed a boundary with Drew and have become too involved. Susi could sack me if she finds out.
He looks up when I approach, and smiles.
‘Drew,’ I say brightly, whisking him into a side room before he says anything in front of Susi. ‘How are you?’ I indicate the seat facing my desk.
He sits down heavily. ‘Not great, I’m afraid, Lena. My dad took a turn for the worse last night.’ He rubs his shoulder. ‘I can’t stop thinking that SJ is in some kind of trouble.’
‘If you have concerns, Drew, I really think you should go to the police. Just tell them everything you’ve told me.’
‘I keep thinking Henry knows something. The classic car that was following her and the fact he knew her and lied about why she left the company so abruptly. And thenthe plan you heard them talking about. Did you say you had it on your phone?’
‘Only the first bit.’
‘Will you send it to me?’
I want to say no. I could be putting myself in danger. Not to mention how Susi will react if she finds out. I could lose my job and I need it more than ever if I want to keep the house. But if the police find out that Henry has done something criminal, he’ll be arrested. So it won’t matter that he knows I was the one who helped turn him in.
All of this gallops through my mind as I assess Drew sitting there, worry etched all over his handsome face. I’m concerned for him. Does he have many mates? Someone to go for a drink with? To vent to? A girlfriend, perhaps? He’s never mentioned any, and I picture him at home on the farm with the boxes in the dark hallway and all the clutter, looking after his parents and their menagerie while worrying about a sister who may or may not be in danger. I wonder how he copes.
‘Will you send me the recording?’ he asks again. He sounds so desperate.
I can’t stand by and do nothing.
Not like I did before.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘It’s not much. And it’s obviously out of context so it’s doubtful the police will take it seriously.’ I reach for my phone and text him the soundbite. ‘Here we go.’
His phone pings and he exhales in relief. ‘Thanks, Lena. I’ll go back to the police. Like you say, it’s not much to go on, but it’s worth a shot.’
