“Fine,” said Annie. “If you’re brewing up anyway.” Mandy had a posh accent, she noticed. What had she been doing with Mark, then? Slumming it? A bit of rough?

The kitchenette was separated from the rest of the bed-sit by a thin green curtain, which Mandy left open as she filled the electric kettle. Annie sat in one of the two small armchairs, which were arranged around an old fireplace filled by a vase full of dried purple-and-yellow flowers and peacock feathers. There was a poster of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers on the wall, and the radio was playing quietly in the background. Annie recognized an old Pet Shop Boys number, “Always on My Mind.” That had been a hit back during her own student days in Exeter. She had liked the Pet Shop Boys.

A vivid memory of Rick Stenson, her boyfriend at the time, came to her as the music played. A handsome, fair-haired media studies student, he had always put her down for her musical tastes, being into Joy Division, Elvis Costello, Dire Straits and Tracy Chapman. He thought he was a cut above the Pet Shop Boys, Enya and Fleetwood Mac fans. He even used to go on about the original Fleetwood Mac, when Peter Green played with them. What had she seen in him? Annie wondered now. He’d been nothing but a bloody arrogant snob, and he hadn’t been an awful lot of good in bed, either, showing some slight flair for the obvious and no imagination whatsoever beyond. Ah, the mistakes of one’s youth.

Mandy came in with the tea and sat in the other armchair, legs curled up, the hem of her T-shirt barely covering the tops of her slim, smooth thighs. Curly brown hair, messy from sleep, framed a heart-shaped face with thin lips, a small nose and loam-brown eyes. She had beautiful Brooke Shields eyebrows, Annie thought with envy, her own being definitely on the thin and skimpy side.

“What did you do last night?” Annie asked.

“Do? What do you mean? Why do you want to know?”

“Would you just let me ask the questions?” Annie didn’t know why she was becoming testy with Mandy, but she was; she could feel the irritation building at the girl’s voice, the thighs, the eyebrows. She took out a paper handkerchief and blew her nose. The room felt hot now; she could feel the sweat prickling under her arms. Or maybe it was a fever that came with her cold.

Mandy sulked and sipped some tea, then she said, “Okay. Ask away.”

“Was Mark here with you?”

“Mark? Of course not. That’s ridiculous. What’s he supposed to have done? If he said-”

“You do know him, don’t you?”

Mandy toyed with a strand of hair, straightening and curling. “If you mean Mark Siddons, yes, of course I know him. He comes by the pub sometimes when he’s working on the building site.”

“Which building site?”

“Over the park. They’re putting up a new sports center for the college.”

“And are you friendly with Mark?”

“Sort of.”

Annie leaned forward. “Mandy, this could be important. Was Mark here with you last night?”

“What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Annie said, feeling her head spin with the fever and the irritation. “This is supposed to be a simple job. I ask you the questions and you give me honest answers. I’m not here to judge you. I don’t care what kind of girl you are. I don’t care if you just fancied a bit of rough and Mark-”

Mandy reddened. “It wasn’t like that!”

“Then tell me what it was like.”

“What’s this all about? What has Mark done?”

Annie didn’t want to give Mandy any reason for prevarication, and she knew that every piece of information altered the equation. “You answer my questions first,” she said, “then I’ll tell you why I’m asking them.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s the only deal you’ll get. Take it or leave it.”

Mandy glared at her, then settled down to playing with her curls again. She let the silence stretch before answering. “Mark came to the pub a few times, at lunchtime, like I said. It was the holiday period, so I was working extra shifts. I liked him. He wasn’t a bit of rough.” She gave Annie a harsh glance. “Maybe he seemed like that on the surface, but underneath, he’s… well, he’s a nice bloke, and you don’t get to meet many of those.”

So cynical so young, Annie thought, but Mandy had a point. Annie thought of Banks. He was a nice bloke, but she had split up with him. Maybe she should have hung on to him instead. He had another girlfriend now, she knew, even though he didn’t like to talk about her. Annie was surprised at the flash of jealousy she felt whenever she knew he was going away for the weekend. Was she younger than Annie? Prettier? Better in bed? Or just less difficult? Well, she had her reasons for doing what she did, she told herself, so let it be.

“He’d flirt a bit and we’d chat,” Mandy went on. “You know what it’s like.”

“What about last night?”

“He came to the pub late. He seemed a bit upset.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say. He just seemed depressed, like he had a lot on his mind.”

“What time was this?”

“About a quarter to eleven. Nearly closing time. He only had the one pint.”

“Then what?”

“I invited him back here for a coffee.”

“So he was here?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a tramp or a slag or anything. It wasn’t like that at all. I only asked him up for a coffee because I felt sorry for him.”

“What happened?” Annie asked.

“We talked, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Mandy looked down, examining her thumbnail. “Well, you know… One thing led to another. Look, I don’t have to spell it out, do I?”

“What did you talk about?”

“Life.”

“That’s a big subject. Can you narrow it down a bit for me?”

“You know, relationships, hopes for the future, that sort of thing. We’d never really talked like that before.” She frowned. “Nothing’s happened to him, has it? Please tell me he’s all right.”

“He’s fine,” said Annie. “Did he tell you about Tina?”

“Tina? Who’s that?”

“Never mind,” said Annie. “What did he talk about?”

“Does he have a girlfriend? He never told me. The two-timing bastard.”

“Mandy, can you remember what he talked about?”

It took Mandy a few moments to control her anger and answer. “The boat. Living on the boat. How he was only working on a building site, but he wanted to get into masonry and church-restoration work. He told me he had a sister on drugs, and he wanted to help her. That sort of thing. Like I said, relationships, dreams. Wait a minute! Was that Tina? His sister?”

“I don’t know,” said Annie. “Did he say anything about someone called Tom?”

“Tom? No. Who’s that?”

“A neighbor. An artist who lived on the boat next to Mark’s.”

Mandy shook her head. Her curls bounced. “No,” she said. “He never mentioned any Tom. Apart from saying how he liked it there, and how peaceful it was, he just complained about some interfering old anorak who kept trying to get him to move.”

That would be Andrew Hurst, Annie thought, smiling to herself at the description. “What time did he leave here?”

“I don’t know. Late. I was half asleep. I hardly noticed him go.”

“How late?” Annie persisted. “One o’clock? Two o’clock?”

“Oh, no. Later than that. I mean we really did talk for hours, until two at least. It was only after that…”

“What?”

“You know. Anyway, he seemed edgy later, said he couldn’t sleep. I told him to go because I needed my sleep for work.”

“So it was after two?”

“Yes. Maybe around three.”

“Okay,” said Annie, standing to leave.

“Your turn now,” said Mandy, at the door.

“What?”

“You were going to tell me why you’re asking these questions.”

“Oh,” said Annie. “That. You can read all about it in the papers,” she said, and headed down the stairs. Then she added over her shoulder, “Or if you can’t wait, just turn up your radio.”