Dead Time by Anne Cassidy Page B

Eliot’s poetry. There’s a bit in one where he walks across London Bridge.’
    Joshua put his hands up. ‘That’s an unfair swap.’
    â€˜OK. I’ll tell you about a novel I’m studying and you tell me about the bridges.’
    â€˜OK. A
novel
I don’t mind. Wednesday. My flat at midday.’
    He left soon after, squeezing her hand as he went out of the gate. She watched him walk down the lane as he did a backwards wave. She stood there until he turned a corner and then went back into the garden feeling brighter, happier.
    On Monday she waited for a call from the police to go in and see them again but none came. Just after lunch she opened the front door to find Henry Thompson standing there in his uniform, his cycling helmet in his hand, hisbike leaning against the edge of the porch. Rose looked down to see the bike clips on his trousers.
    Her grandmother came out into the hall. Henry spoke formally.
    â€˜Officer Henry Thompson, Mrs Christie. I’ve come with some information for you and your granddaughter about the events of Saturday evening.’
    Her grandmother ushered him into the house and insisted that he come into the drawing room. Rose followed him. He spoke in a low voice to her as he walked.
    â€˜Rose, I wish I’d been at work on Saturday night but as you know I was off-duty. When I got a call from the detectives yesterday I couldn’t believe it. I did, of course, tell them I’d seen you just before …’
    â€˜Take a seat,’ her grandmother said.
    He sat in one of her high-winged chairs looking a little awkward. He put his bike helmet on the carpet, then lifted it up again. He had a bottle of water in his hand and drank from it.
    â€˜Would you like me to get a glass for that?’ her grandmother said, frowning at him. ‘Or some tea? Green tea? Earl Grey?’
    â€˜No, thank you. I’ll get straight to the point.’
    Her grandmother sat down and Rose perched on the edge of the sofa. She picked up a satin cushion that had appliqué flowers. Her fingers played with the petals while Henry spoke.
    â€˜I’m here to apologise to you and Rose for the vigorous way in which she was interviewed on Saturday night. We are very sorry for any upset that it might have caused. A murder investigation is a top priority and sometimes people are treated insensitively. Rose must have been shocked and upset, particularly after what she’d been through a few days before. It was not our intention to suggest that Rose was responsible. We are merely trying to find out as much as we can as quickly as we can.’
    â€˜It seemed to me that you assumed that Rose was guilty,’ her grandmother said.
    Henry shook his head but she went on.
    â€˜The whole unpleasant affair is in the hands of my solicitor.’
    â€˜Mrs Christie. You are entitled to lodge a complaint but I would ask you to think about one thing. Your granddaughter here was upset and possibly traumatised – but she is now here with you. There is a family on the Chalk Farm Estate whose daughter will never come home to them again.’
    He stood up.
    Her grandmother nodded stiffly at him and Rose looked at him with admiration. There weren’t many people who could silence Anna. She got up and followed him out of the room.
    When Henry left she stepped out of the house behind him and suddenly felt awkward. She remembered himasking her to go to a club he ran for teenagers. She couldn’t remember the name of it but she hoped he wouldn’t ask her again.
    â€˜What happened to Emma?’ she said, getting to the point. ‘You have to tell me. What have the police found out? What’s been going on?’
    â€˜Confidential,’ he said, looking away from her, strapping on his helmet, taking his time with the fastening.
    â€˜Please. I was there. I’m trying to make some sense of it.’
    He looked at her for a few moments and then lifted his bike