‘Before you go, can I ask just one more question?’
Roma is standing now but she pauses and nods. ‘Do you have any other children? A daughter, perhaps?’
‘A daughter? Not if you discount Alice. I just have a son, Nathaniel. Why?’
‘I just wondered,’ I say.
‘Okay, well, goodbye, again.’
I watch the elegant woman leave the coffee shop. She stops at the window and looks in at me for a brief second, before putting on her sunglasses and walking away.
I pick up the envelope and am just psyching myself up to open it when my mobile rings. I flick it on to silent as I look at the screen. It’s Luke. Twice in one morning. Now, that is unusual. I can’t ignore it – the little voice in the back of my head that warns me it could be an emergency at home with Mum or the girls won’t let me.
‘Hi,’ is all I say.
‘Clare. Where the fuck are you?’
‘Er … just out having a coffee. What’s up?’
‘Where – having a coffee? Where exactly are you?’ I can hear the anger in voice, although he’s practically hissing the words. ‘And don’t say at Nadine’s.’
‘What?’ Oh, God, he’s found out.
‘I know you’re not at Nadine’s. I’ve got the fucking police here. They want you to go in for further questioning. I found your address book and looked up Nadine because that’s where you told me you were. And, guess what? You’re not actually there! She’s even more surprised than I am. She hasn’t heard from you in months!’ The hiss has gone and Luke is in full rage mode. This never happens. The last time he flipped like this was when … ah yes … was when his portrait of Alice was slashed. ‘Clare? Are you still there?’
‘Yes. I’m here.’
‘Care to share where the fuck here is?’
I ignore his question. I don’t really want to have to explain myself. Not yet. Not until I know for certain what happened over here. ‘What do the police want to question me about?’
‘Vandalising Pippa’s car.’
‘Not that again.’
‘They’ve looked at the CCTV and have you on film going into the garage and coming out a few minutes later with the aerosol can in your hand.’
‘That’s impossible. I’ve told you before, I didn’t do it.’
‘They have evidence, Clare. Didn’t you hear me? CCTV evidence.’ His tone conveys a mix of anger and exasperation. ‘Get your arse back here now.’ I can hear voices in the background. Luke speaks again. ‘The police want to know where you are and how long you’ll be.’
I drum my fingers anxiously on the table. ‘I’ll be back Wednesday.’
‘I don’t think they want to wait until then. How about you make it this afternoon.’
‘I can’t.’
Then I hear the phone being passed over to someone else.
‘Mrs Tennison?’ says a female voice I recognise as the police officer from the other day. ‘This is Police Constable Evans here. We spoke about the damage to Pippa Stent’s vehicle.’
‘Yes. Hello.’
‘As your husband has just explained, we have further evidence to support the accusation that you vandalised Mrs Stent’s car and we would like you to come in for further questioning. You may remember, we did say that you should make yourself available for further questioning and someone in your line of work shouldn’t really need this spelled out.’
‘I know, but I can’t come in before Wednesday.’ Time to come clean. I can’t put it off any longer. ‘I’m not in the country and I haven’t got a return flight until Tuesday night. I could be with you by mid-morning Wednesday.’
‘Mrs Tennison, flying out of the country isn’t really acceptable.’
I cut in. ‘It’s perfectly acceptable. I am not under arrest. I haven’t been charged with anything. I haven’t been cautioned. You never told me not to leave the country. Technically, I have not done anything wrong.’
‘I can’t say I’m very happy.’
‘That’s as may be, but as soon as I’m in the UK, I’ll let you know. Now, please hand me back to my husband.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ It’s Luke. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in America,’ I say. I carry on talking despite his spluttering disbelief. ‘I’ll be back Wednesday. We’ll talk then.’ I end the call. What a nightmare. I think about the new evidence and wonder how the hell they have me on CCTV going into the garage.
I look at the envelope that Roma left still on the table. I’ll worry about CCTV later, for now I’m dying to see the photographs. I empty the contents in front of me. Half a dozen photographs spill out. I spread them out with my fingertips.