Dead Time (15 page)

So possibly Lewis Proctor had lorded it over Ricky, had spent the summer telling his mates, showing Emma off. All the while Bee Bee, who had wanted Lewis for months, for years, had been watching from the wings, waiting to see what happened.

Then Emma cooled off and dropped Lewis. Had Lewis felt furious enough to kill Ricky? Or had it been a spur of the moment action? Ricky Harris had been with Rose on the platform of Parkway East. He'd got a phone call from someone. He'd been pleased.
Change of plans, posh bird!
he'd said and gone off. Had Lewis been coming on to the bridge at the same moment? Had these two lads not been able to pass each other without some words being said? Perhaps Lewis had disrespected Ricky in some way,
made reference to his girlfriend. Maybe Ricky pulled out his knife, intending to shame Lewis into backing down but Lewis had had enough, his girlfriend going back to Ricky after he had been so sure that she was his? Possibly Lewis had simply taken Ricky's knife from him and in a moment of rage stabbed him in the chest and left him to die.

And Lewis definitely was at the cemetery on the evening when Emma was stabbed. He had got a note asking him to go there. Bee Bee had found it in his pocket. Had
she
followed him to try and catch him meeting Emma? Was that why she was running across the footbridge minutes after Emma had been killed?

Could Bee Bee have
stabbed
Emma?

Some new people had come into the studio. Rose recognised Sherry, Emma's stepsister. Her orangey hair had been pulled back off her face with a black band. She was pale and wearing a black shirt over leggings and boots. Another girl was linking her arm. They both came up the stairs of the auditorium and sat across the aisle from Rose. A couple of Rose's teachers came in and one of the secretaries from the office. The principal burst through the door then with a sheaf of notes in her hand. After her came a male member of staff, his name tag tucked into the pocket of his shirt. Rose recognised him. It was the technician who had stuck up for her that day when Ricky had been nasty. She remembered that Ricky had called
the technician gay and had tried to embarrass and insult him.

How odd that he should come to this. How odd that he should feel any need to pay respects to a boy who had been vile to him.

Was he gay? Rose looked him up and down. He was wearing black trousers and a white shirt and tie. He looked like many of the male teachers. They wore so-called
smart
clothes but looked uncomfortable, as if they were wearing a uniform they didn't particularly like. When she'd seen him in the cafe the previous week he'd been wearing a biker's jacket. He looked different out of his work clothes, less stiff, more friendly. But had he looked
gay
? He hadn't looked any different to any other man. Was there a gay look? Some gay people did seem to go out of their way to dress and act in a certain way but most gay people were probably just like everyone else. Trying to look the best they could with what they had been born with.

Why would he come to Ricky Harris's memorial?

Maybe he was a church man, a Christian. Possibly he was here to forgive.

She looked back to the principal, who had started to speak. Her voice was low and respectful.
A young man who had had some challenges in his life. A young man who had strayed. A young man who had started school in a positive way. A young man whose life had been cruelly shortened.

Rose felt her mobile vibrate and she looked at the screen. She had a text message from Joshua.

Can you meet me at the Dark Brew after class? Say five? It's important.

Normally a message from Joshua would lift her spirits but this time she felt apprehensive. It wasn't just a social meeting. This was something to do with the email from the Russian girl. She sighed as she sent a reply.

See you there.

There was music playing. It was not a band she recognised. No doubt it had been one that Ricky Harris had liked. The mood had lifted a little and the principal had sat down in a chair and looked as though her mind was already elsewhere. Some kids in the front rows were shifting in their seats. It would be over soon.

‘You all right?' Maggie said.

She nodded. Maggie and Sara were looking at her with concern. They both had short dark hair and pale faces and looked like sisters. They weren't related, Rose knew that, but perhaps their closeness over the years meant that they had dressed alike and had similar haircuts and styles. They liked the same bands and movies and read book after book about vampires. They seemed to know what each other was thinking and sometimes finished each other's sentences. They were studying the same subjects, probably had the same plans for university.

Rose was grateful to them in a way she couldn't express.

Friendship was a difficult thing. At Mary Linton it had seemed easy but in the end she had been bruised. Really, if she was honest, the only person she wanted to be friends with was Joshua. That was why she would go to the Dark Brew and talk about the email from the Russian girl.

She glanced around the studio as people started to stand up, picking up their bags and walking towards the door. Was anyone from Ricky's family here? How many of the people who were here were actually friends of Ricky's? How many cared about him one way or another? She looked around, across the aisle at Sherry. The girl with her was on her feet but Sherry was still sitting staring at the front. Rose focused on her. Sherry's shoulders were shaking and there were tears coming down her face. It puzzled her but then she remembered that she had come to the memorial not because of Ricky but because of Emma. Perhaps Sherry too couldn't think of Ricky Harris's death without thinking about her stepsister, Emma, and how she was gone.

Sherry looked round unexpectedly and Rose found herself meeting her stony gaze. The girl's face flickered with recognition. Rose gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile but Sherry stood up and began to walk along her row towards Rose. The girl with her followed.

‘You!' she said, loud enough for people down the front to hear. ‘You should have been there to stop my sister getting hurt. Where were you? How come you were late?'

‘I got held up,' Rose said, looking round, embarrassed.

‘Something held you up,' she said derisively. ‘My sister came and asked for your help and you couldn't make it! Why was that? Was my sister too common to be seen with?'

‘No!' Rose said. ‘I did go. I got delayed.'

Sherry's face was right in front of her. Rose found herself getting annoyed. She squared her shoulders at the girl and stared at her. She spoke clearly and firmly.

‘I tried to get there. I had no idea anything bad was going to happen!'

In any case
, she wanted to say,
your sister went into the cemetery ten minutes before she planned to meet me!

‘Bitch,' Sherry said. ‘I told Emma you were just a stuck-up bitch but she had a soft heart. She felt
sorry
for you. And look what's happened to her.'

‘Leave her alone,' Maggie said.

Rose felt herself shaking. She couldn't trust herself to speak. She felt Maggie's hand on her arm and looked round to see Sara standing straight behind her. She pulled herself away and walked down the stairs towards the exit. Some of the kids who were dawdling looked at her and whispered between themselves. They all knew her. She was the girl who had been at not one murder but two.

She ignored them but felt the weight of their scrutiny as she left the studio and headed off towards her next class.

The Dark Brew was a cafe in Kentish Town that Rose went to a lot. It was in a parade of six shops amid some imposing-looking houses. A bell tinkled as she entered and she saw Joshua already there, sitting at a table with his laptop open. Even though it was just after five and still light, the inside of the cafe was darkish. There were six tables, each with a low light hanging above it. The front windows were small and dimpled, making the place seem like someone's living room.

‘Hi,' Rose said, feeling like she should speak in a whisper.

The cafe felt church-like. There was no radio playing and people usually seemed to be reading a book or gazing at a laptop or speaking in whispers. The sombre atmosphere suited Rose's mood.

‘You want something?' she said, pointing to the counter.

Joshua shook his head. She bought a hot chocolate and sat down across from him, the light making a small tent
around them. Joshua was tapping at the keys and when he looked at her there was a glint of excitement in his eye.

‘I got another email from Valeriya Malashenko.'

Rose had thought it would be about the Russian waitress.

‘She's remembered the name of the B and B in Twickenham. It's the
Northern Star
. Here, I've got its web page.'

He turned his laptop round so that she could see the screen. There was a photograph of the outside of a building, something like a large house, and then address details and smaller photos of the rooms. She tried to look interested but really she didn't know what to say about it.

‘I'm going to go, tomorrow. Skeggsie's coming with me. I'd love it if you came as well.'

‘Why is Skeggsie going?' she said.

‘He's interested
and
he's got a car.'

‘A car?'

‘A Mini. He says he'll drive me there. Come with us. Let's see what we can find out.'

She tried to keep a positive expression on her face but it was difficult.

‘I don't think I've got time …'

Joshua closed the laptop. He looked disappointed.

‘Rosie, this is a breakthrough. The first thing in five years. We should follow it up.'

She went to speak but stopped. She was tired. The day had not got any better after the memorial and Sherry Baxter's words had been ringing in her ears all afternoon.

‘This is no time to be half-hearted,' he said and pulled his laptop back towards himself, mumbling something and tapping on the keys.

She drank her chocolate even though it was too hot. It was six days since Emma Burke had been stabbed. She'd been thinking about nothing else all afternoon. She'd tried to recreate the evening in her head, her discovery of poor Emma's body, but she hadn't been able to. She realised that she had no memory of what the rose garden looked like. On top of everything else this had upset her. It was as if she'd carelessly wiped it out of her mind, as if she'd deleted the whole sorry mess from her thoughts and didn't care what had happened there. She wished now that she'd revisited the rose garden in the days since.

She remembered what Sherry Baxter had said about her stepsister.
She had a soft heart. She felt
sorry
for you.
The words had hit their mark because Rose knew they were true. Emma had felt sorry for her. And she had asked her for help.

Now she couldn't even picture the rose garden. The station, the walkway where Ricky died was clearly in her mind, she'd been across it half a dozen times since then. But the cemetery was fading, the rose garden a vague
image in her head, never the same twice, just the flapping blossoms and in the background the jarring colour of Emma's purple top.

‘You're miles away,' Joshua said.

‘Sorry.'

‘I know you're sceptical about the email but won't you at least give it a chance?'

‘You go,' Rose said. ‘You can tell me what you find out.'

‘Thanks! Thanks very much for your support,' he said, annoyed.

Rose felt grazed by his words. He was so excited about the Russian waitress that he had forgotten about her feelings.

‘Support! Do you remember what I've been through the last ten days?'

A couple of people looked over at them. She lowered her voice.

‘I'm worn out. Don't accuse me of being half-hearted.'

‘This is our
family
.'

‘Our family is gone!'

‘It might not be. And even if it is I want to find out what happened.'

‘Josh, if they were alive we would know.'

‘If they were dead there would be some evidence. A trail left by someone.'

‘This is grasping at straws. This woman, this Russian person, her memories might be mixed up. She was in a
strange country doing a hard job. She didn't speak very good English. She might have an entirely different couple in her head. Not Mum and Brendan at all. Mr and Mrs Frank Bloggs, white, thirty-five to forty, brown hair, bald head; two ordinary-looking people who also used the Tuscan Moon.'

Did she believe this? What about the thoughts she'd had about the glasses case? Hadn't she almost convinced herself that it had been her mum's glasses?

‘In any case what can we find out from this B and B? Is it likely that they will have any information? That the same people will work there? It was five years ago. What do you hope to achieve?'

He didn't answer her. His eyes flicked to the side and for a second she thought she saw the glint of a tear.

‘I just want to go there. If Dad and Kathy were there, then I want to walk in the front door. I want to go up to reception. I want to
be
where they were.'

He was upset. She remembered Skeggsie's words a few days before:
When I first met him in school he was suffering badly. His dad gone, you gone …
It gave her a great gush of emotion in her chest.

‘Just don't get your hopes up,' she said, reaching across the table, touching his hand.

‘Will you come? It's important.'

‘All right, all right, I'll come.'

‘Thanks, Rosie.' Josh grinned at her.

‘As long as you come and do something with me. Now, tonight.'

‘What?'

‘I want to go and pay my respects to someone.'

Joshua looked puzzled. Rose stood up and gathered her things together.

‘First I have to get hold of some flowers.'