Another long silence, then:

‘She tweeted earlier today actually.’

‘Saying?’

‘Nothing of interest. Just a gripe about having a bad day.’

‘Can you remember the exact time?’

‘Hold on,’ Sinead replied. Sanderson could hear her rummaging through her bag for her phone. ‘Come on, come on,’ Sanderson thought to herself, casting a nervous eye over the sheet of timings that lay on the table in front of her.

‘Here we are,’ Sinead responded. ‘She tweeted at … 6.14 p.m. today.’

‘And the one before that?’

‘Yesterday. Just after ten a.m.’

Sanderson took Sinead back through a few more of Roisin’s tweets, then ended the call, promising that she would be back in touch shortly. Sanderson had a nasty feeling that she would honour that promise and when she did, it would be with the bleakest of news. The timings of Roisin’s last five tweets matched exactly with the timing of Ruby Sprackling’s latest communications.

Helen had been right all along.

58

‘So how was your day?’

The words sounded so alien, but she forced them out, all the while maintaining her broad smile.

‘It was fine, thanks.’

‘Were you working? Do you work?’

‘You know I work, Summer.’

His knowing reply rattled her, but she was not going to be weak. Not today.

‘What do you do?’

He looked at her and smiled.

‘You look pretty tonight,’ he eventually said.

‘Thank you. I … I wanted to make an effort.’

‘It shows.’

Ruby hesitated, looked at her lap, then lifting her gaze to his, carried on:

‘I also wanted to say sorry. For being unkind. I didn’t mean it.’

He was watching her, as if unsure whether to believe her or not.

‘I want us to be friends.’

He looked at her, but still said nothing. Not a smile, not a rebuke, nothing.

‘I get lonely down here, so if we could spend more time together, then …’

‘That’s all I want, Summer. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.’

The fervency in his voice took her by surprise. She tried to speak but fear was creeping up on her again now, robbing her of the power of speech.

‘It’s a clean slate for both of us, then,’ he went on. ‘So why don’t we spend the evening together? I’ll cook for us.’

He looked straight at her. He had a fire in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

‘It’ll be just like old times.’

59

Helen had no idea what she was doing here. But here she was – sitting in the Great Southern’s rooftop restaurant, opposite Daniel Briers.

‘I feel a bit of a fraud,’ Daniel Briers was saying, as he topped up her coffee. ‘I don’t have anything new to tell you and I’m sure you’d have been in touch if there’d been any developments. I guess I just wanted the company of someone who knew what I was going through.’

‘It’s fine. I wasn’t doing anything important,’ she lied.

‘Have I dragged you away from your family?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ Helen replied, artfully avoiding the question.

‘You get a bit stir crazy sitting in this room all day. I’ve tried to get out, but I don’t know my way around and … and truth be told I don’t really want to get to know this place. I feel happier here.’

‘I understand. It’s hard. And if you ever feel you’d rather go home, then I won’t think any the less of you. There are many different ways to show your love and commitment to Pippa.’

He looked at her for a second.

‘I’d rather stay.’

Helen nodded and for a moment neither of them spoke. Daniel looked out over Southampton, while Helen surveyed the other guests in the restaurant. Immediately she caught the eye of a middle-aged woman who was staring at her. The woman was obviously intrigued by them – was she trying to work out if they were on a date? Married? Friends? The realization made Helen feel foolish.

When she turned back, she was surprised to find Daniel smiling at her.

‘If it’s awkward for you to be here, then just say so. I don’t want to make your life difficult, Helen.’

‘I want to help,’ Helen replied. And it was true. Daniel had given her her cue to leave, but she didn’t want to abandon him here, a grieving man in a lonely city.

‘I know what you’re going through,’ she continued. ‘When you’ve lost someone close … it kind of surrounds you, doesn’t it? It’s hard to see a way through it.’

Daniel nodded.

‘She’s all I think about. She’s as alive to me now as she ever was.’

Helen smiled. Reaching out, she took his hand.

‘And that’s fine. It’s not weird or morbid. It’s natural. You loved her. You love her. Nothing that’s happened can change that.’

Thank you, Helen. I thought I was going a bit crazy, but –’

‘It’s not crazy and you must think of her. You must always think of her.’

Daniel nodded his thanks, just about keeping his emotion in check.

‘Pippa was always so boisterous when she was little. They say boys are the troublesome ones, but that wasn’t true in our case. She had this great mate – Edith – and together they would create havoc. They would dress up as pirates, soldiers, whatever, and create elaborate games in the living room. The sofas would be turned into hideouts, skipping ropes would become lassos, cardboard tubes would become rocket launchers – they could play like that for hours.’

As Daniel lost himself in tales of Pippa’s childish exploits, Helen thought back to her own childhood. Among all the horror, abuse and degradation, there had been odd moments of contentment. Holidays on the Isle of Sheppey, shoplifting trips with her mum and sister, cider-fuelled hysterics with Marianne and their mate Sam. Brief slivers of happiness.

The one character who was always absent from these memories was her father. She tried to think if he’d ever done anything loving or kind, but nothing came to mind. The only thing he had ever given his children was bruises and broken bones. To him, children were first an irritant and expense and later a commodity to be passed around fellow paedophiles. Perhaps he had suffered when he was young, perhaps there were experiences and demons that had driven him to behave the way he did, but Helen had never wanted to go there. She refused to entertain the idea that his brutality could ever be excused or justified.

He was a far cry from the decent, wounded man sitting opposite her now. Helen knew that’s why she was still here, drinking coffee late into the night with a man she barely knew. The fact that he did care – that he loved his daughter – really hit home with her. And though she chided herself for not passing Daniel on to a trained Family Liaison Officer, she didn’t blame herself for it. She was enjoying the rush of his memories – there was an innocence and warmth to them that Helen found irresistible. Neither seemed keen to break up the evening or to acknowledge that – minutes later – they were still holding hands.

60

He reached out and took her hand, running his finger over her knuckles.

‘Isn’t this nice?’

Ruby smiled in response, forking another mouthful of pasta in her mouth. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but the food was good – pasta carbonara, rich, creamy and comforting. She cleared her plate, then picked up her wine, draining the plastic beaker it had been served in. Despite the absurdity of the situation, the wine felt good – a brief spike of exhilaration surging through her before drifting away again.