artist.’
‘I’m Tanya Maslin, as I said. I live at 15, Gladstone Road. I’ll write my numbers down for you.’
She grabbed a napkin and took a pen from her pocket, scribbling down three telephone numbers and her email address. She handed the napkin to Adrian, who wasn’t paying any attention to her at all.
‘Thank you, that’s all,’ Imogen said before Tanya Maslin disappeared back into the kitchen. Imogen couldn’t help but notice how distracted Adrian was; she wished there was something she could say or do that would help him get through this. Maybe he should have taken more time off work, not that that would help. Work was probably the best place for him.
They left the restaurant and took a photo of the exterior.
‘Don’t suppose there’s any point getting forensics down here?’ Adrian said.
‘We’ll tell the DCI and see what she wants to do,’ Imogen said.
‘You know what this means, don’t you?’
‘Don’t say it.’ Imogen felt her body tense.
‘CCTV. Now we know where, we’re going to have to see what cameras around here might have on record from last Thursday.’
‘Oh God, I can’t face it tonight. I’ll start in the morning.’
‘I’ll get started,’ Adrian said. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’
Imogen kept glancing at him as they walked back to the car; his head was down and he was watching his feet as he walked, lost in his own thoughts again. No one volunteered to watch hours of mind numbing CCTV of an evening, he must be struggling. She knew that he needed to grieve in his own way, but she just didn’t think he was dealing with it at all. Just pushing it down and pretending that it was all OK without the girl he had barely had time to fall in love with. She didn’t know what to do.
Connor felt Pippa’s hand on his thigh. He edged across the bonnet of his father’s car and knocked back the beer he had in his hand. The fact that he was breaking the law made him even more attractive to Pippa; he could see how impressed she was when he turned up in it. He looked over at the group of kids they had come out with – they were different from the kids back home. There was less competition. Granted, though, it was a smaller town and so you didn’t get the superstars of high school like he had back at his previous school. The truth was, Connor had been one of the superstars, but he didn’t want that again, he didn’t want the constant pressure and expectation. He didn’t need to feel like he was letting anyone other than himself down if he fucked up and went off the rails.
Connor had had girls like Pippa all over him back then, too. Girls that saw him as a trophy boyfriend, a symbol of their status within the school. Always with a boyfriend, always attached to someone, her self-worth measured by the popularity of the boy she can attract. Right now, Connor knew he was the hot topic. Even if he hadn’t looked the way he did, he was unknown and therefore interesting. The kids here were a lot less uptight, a lot less concerned with image and popularity and the cliques didn’t seem to be that well defined, unlike the huge school he’d got kicked out of, where not even his football skills could save him.
Connor looked at his watch, aware of the time, aware that his father had told him not to be late.
‘Got somewhere better to be?’ Pippa asked.
‘I need to get home soon.’ He swilled the last of his beer, then tossed the bottle into a bush.
‘You have a curfew?’ she giggled.
‘Nah, nothing like that, my dad needs his car back.’
She sidled up to him again, moving her hand up his thigh, edging ever closer to his zip. He looked down and watched closely as though he was watching her touch someone else’s leg. Maybe this technique worked on the boys here.
‘How can I convince you to stay?’
Connor jumped off the car and pulled his keys out of his pocket.
‘I really should be going.’
Pippa looked deflated by this. He knew what she wanted; she wanted him to break the rules for her, to prove that he would get into trouble just to have a little of what she was offering. It was hard to resist, not because of who she was but because of what he wanted. It had been so long since he had felt close to anyone.
‘Can you give me a ride home then? I live on Gloucester Road,’ she said, undeterred by his efforts to shake her off.
He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, giving in to the inevitable again. Be normal and do what you’re supposed to do, then people won’t ask too many questions. He had to fit in; he was already at a disadvantage because he stood out like a sore thumb. There was no reason to draw even more attention to himself by turning down one of the hottest girls in the school. It didn’t make sense and people would wonder why. He couldn’t have people looking too closely at him – and so he opened the door for Pippa.
Outside Pippa’s house, the sound of the car clock rolling over made Connor pull back from her and look at the dashboard. All the zeroes. Midnight – his father would not be happy. Connor’s seat was pushed right back and Pippa was straddling him, both of them with shirts unbuttoned. Pippa kissed Connor’s neck, making a lot of noise about it. She sat up a little; he looked through the space between them and saw her tanned breasts inside her cornflower blue bra, striking against her white-blonde hair.
‘You aren’t like the boys around here.’
‘Is that a compliment?’
‘Oh, hell yes.’
Connor glanced at the clock again as he pushed Pippa off him; she was light but fit under her clothes. He did his flies up. Connor remembered his girlfriend back home, how they would have sex in his car, how she would use sex to make sure he stayed in line. This had been a huge mistake. Connor felt torn between wanting what he used to have and running from it, knowing full well what the outcome had been. He couldn’t replace the girl he had lost, the life he had lost, and he didn’t really want to. He didn’t want history repeating itself.
‘You should go inside,’ he said, ‘I need to get home.’
After dropping Pippa off, Connor pulled into his own drive. The house was completely dark as he walked towards the front door. He pushed the key in as quietly as possible. With any luck, his father had drunk himself into a stupor again and passed out in front of the television.
The door clicked open and he stepped inside. Dead silence. He waited until he could see the bottom step before he attempted to go upstairs. As his eyes adjusted to the light, a weight lodged in his stomach. He noticed the shape of a man, a silhouette to be precise, leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway.
‘Jesus Christ!’
The light came on. Connor saw that the figure was Jacob … drunk.
‘Nope, just me,’ his father said quietly.
‘You
