“Mrs Meelup?”

A nice-looking girl. Pretty. Nice hair. Smiling. She held out her hand. Eileen hesitated. She had no idea who she was or why she was here and Dougie had his back to them, busy with the kettle. Eileen glanced round again at the screen, hoping the picture might have vanished of its own accord, but it had not. The headline bored into her brain. “Just a moment c I have to just do this. If you’d wait a minute c”

She swung her chair round again. It was an old typing chair. Keith had got that too, from a friend whose office had closed down. The screen was full of print that she did not want anyone else to see. She fiddled with the mouse under her palm, clicking it this way and that. The printing moved sideways and back again but that was all.

“Can I help?”

The girl was at her shoulder, looking at the screen. “It’s a nightmare at first, isn’t it? Your husband said you were just learning. You’ll be an expert in two ticks, honestly, but if you want me to do anything c”

Eileen felt her neck prickle. The girl was too close and she seemed to be both looking at the screen and looking at her, in an odd way. She smelled of something like sweet apples.

“No.” Eileen pressed the knob on the front of the screen and the picture shrank to a pinpoint of light and went out.

“Ah c don’t know if they told you, but it’s probably not a good idea to do that. It’s really better to close down first—just switching it off can mean you lose data.”

Eileen backed away and got off the chair. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m so sorry, you must wonder what on earth is going on, some total stranger walking in and trying to teach you how to work your computer. I do apologise.”

Eileen said nothing. The girl put her bag on the sofa. Bright green. Big. A big bag.

“I’m Lucy Groves.”

“You said.”

“I’m so sorry to barge in c” She looked confused. A bit pink. She pulled the grip out of her hair at one side, fiddled with it and put it back. Eileen felt suddenly sorry for her. “I wanted to talk to you, if it’s possible. I really won’t take up much of your time but it is quite important.”

Dougie was mashing the tea.

She was from the police. It was obvious. A plain-clothes policewoman. It was the only thing she could be and it was all right. In a way, Eileen felt a huge sense of relief that someone had come who knew about it, so that she didn’t have to skulk and didn’t have to pretend. It would be good to talk to her. A nice young woman. Her eyes were the most wonderful deep blue. Eileen had never seen such a deep but bright blue in anyone’s eyes before.

“Sit down,” she said, “please. Dougie’ll get us a cup of tea.” She jumped up and went to the cupboard for the tin of biscuits. Empty. She’d been lax, not bothering with things, not stocking up. She saw everything at once, as if the young woman had shown it all to her. How she’d neglected things.

“Dougie c” She beckoned him out of the room into the hall. The young woman sat, fiddling with her hairgrip again. “Can you pop to Mitchell’s, get one of their malt loaves and something c Swiss roll or a Battenberg, whatever they’ve got?”

“But the tea’s mashed.”

“Doesn’t matter, we can have another pot, only it seems rude, I’ve got nothing in, I’m ashamed of it.”

“You don’t—”

“I do.”

He looked round for his jacket.

“Police,” Eileen whispered.

“What is?”

She jerked her thumb. “You can tell.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t been able to.

“Plain clothes. She’ll be a help now, she’ll be able to give me a better idea what to do, how to go about getting it sorted out. You got enough money?”

“Of course I’ve got enough money.”

At the door, he glanced back. Yes. Policewoman. Now she’d said so, it was obvious, of course it was. And it was always going to be a policewoman. It was always going to come.

He went out to the car.

*

“What a lovely man,” the girl, Lucy Groves, said. She leaned forward slightly, smiling. She had her hand on her bright green bag. “But perhaps you’ll feel more comfortable talking to me now we’re on our own.”

“Dougie and I don’t have secrets.”

“No, no, I’m sure you don’t. But isn’t it true that sometimes it’s difficult to say some very personal things?”

Eileen was silent.

“Mrs Meelup, you’re probably wondering who on earth I am and why I’m here. I should explain everything carefully. There’s nothing at all to be alarmed about c absolutely not. Quite the contrary. I’m here to protect you, if anything. You can talk to me. I can reassure you. I know you will want to talk, people in your sort of situation always do. You need to talk and I do understand that it isn’t always easy to talk to those closest to us. You’ll want to protect your close family c that’s so natural. It’s perfectly OK.”

She spoke quite softly, but quickly, so that Eileen had to lean forward to catch everything she said, and the girl leaned further forward in her turn, so that they seemed almost to be putting their heads together, to be forming an intimacy with scarcely a space separating them.

“I don’t know what terms you use,” Eileen said. “I mean, are you a constable, or a detective policewoman or what? Seems funny not to know how it works.”

Lucy Groves smiled but moved back slightly, widening the space between them again. She reached up and took out her hair clip, fiddled with it and pushed it back. “Please don’t worry, please. I can understand how frightening it is.”

“Not frightening. Only you didn’t say.”

“It is alarming when the police arrive, you feel threatened, don’t you, wondering what you should say or dare say even, what they might make you confess to?”

“Confess to?”

“It’s normal. It’s natural. People do feel like that. Nothing that has happened is your fault, nothing at all, yet you will feel it is. Goodness, that’s understandable.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Maybe the best thing would be for you to start telling me how exactly you do feel? I don’t want to put words into your mouth. I want you to tell me the story as you see it. As it affects you. How you feel now, whether you’re bewildered or angry or ashamed. Have you seen Edwina yet?”

There was something awry, like a picture that wasn’t straight or a voice that was odd. Eileen fumbled around in her mind, trying to work out what it was. Have you seen Edwina yet? “I thought you’d know that sort of thing. I thought it would all c”

The girl was leaning forward again. “Mrs Meelup, can I just ask you if you would let me c?” She had her hand on the bright green bag. Eileen looked at it. Smoke. She was going to ask to smoke, which surprised her. She didn’t think police did, on duty. Like drinking. Maybe it was different when they didn’t wear a uniform. Only she didn’t care for smoking in her house.

“I’ll understand if you say no, of course, and it is absolutely up to you, completely. It’s just that it would make it easier for me. To remember.”

“Remember?”

“I want to be sure that everything you say, every word, is accurate. I’m here to help you tell the truth, to put your side of things, your story. I’m not in the business of putting words into your mouth, you know. You do understand?”

She didn’t. She was understanding less and less as the young woman said more and more.

“So would it be all right?” She reached into the bright green bag and took out a small silvery box. She held it up. “To use this?”

“I thought you were going to ask to smoke a cigarette,” Eileen said.

Lucy Groves laughed, a loud, high little laugh. “Oh help! No. God, no, I don’t smoke, haven’t for about ten years, not since we smoked walking home from school, you know, thought it was soooo sophisticated. God, how funny.”

“What’s that?”

They both looked at the small silvery box which Lucy Groves had set down on the table.

“State of the art. I promise you. No whirring, no clicking, no interruptions, you’ll forget it’s there in ten seconds.”