but intelligent, tanned but never trashy. She had the look of a woman who planned to do nothing but marry well and age
gracefully. To live off family money, yet claim to be her own person.
Kimberly knew she was being judgemental, a bigot, a bitch even: and for all she repelled the idea of any charitable thoughts towards Tamsin she still knew that only two events had made her shut
her heart against her. One betrayal apiece. She couldn’t find enough compassion to care that Tamsin’s eyes were welling with tears, or accept that maybe Rachel’s death might be a
blow to both of them.
Tamsin reached out her hand as if she thought Kimberly would want to embrace her. Kimberly didn’t.
‘How are you?’ she asked quietly.
Tamsin withdrew her hand. ‘Poor Rachel.’
‘They haven’t identified her yet.’ It was an illogical thing to say. Who else was it going to be?
‘Who else could it be?’ Tamsin echoed the thought.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Kimberly snapped. ‘At the moment I’m not sitting round playing guessing games. Why are you here?’
‘It’s about Nick.’
At any other time, Kimberly would have braced herself for those words. She was expert at controlling her expressions, seeming maybe a little too calm to be natural, but at any other time she
would certainly not have gasped or blinked, or floundered for words in the seconds that followed.
‘Nick?’ she repeated, and she silently cursed herself for being caught off guard. So fucking off guard. ‘Now is not really the time to be telling me about Nick, is it,
Tam?’ She tried to sound genuinely indignant. ‘Do you think I care?’
Tamsin reddened. ‘He’s dead.’
This time Kimberly was ready. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘When?’
‘The whole time. They found his car. Divers found his car. There was an accident . . .’
‘He crashed?’
‘No, someone else had an accident, went off the road into the sea ten miles from Cartagena. Divers went to recover the body, and found Nick’s car.’
Kimberly imagined the scene: the Merc being winched clear of the water, the police, the body bag, Nick’s parents. She stopped then, unable to think beyond them: Trudy and Dougie.
‘How is she?’
‘Who?’
‘Trudy?’
‘I think you know. Is it Riley that’s missing?’
Kimberly looked down at the photo still in her hand. At the wonky smile and the innocent eyes. She handed it to Tamsin. ‘The police said they need one.’
Tamsin studied it, then gave it back. ‘He looks a lot like Jay.’
‘Rachel thought he was more like me.’
Tamsin didn’t stay much longer. Kimberly’s habitual animosity towards her was temporarily displaced by feelings of sympathy, some kind of shared grief perhaps. But she knew it
wouldn’t last. At the front door, Tamsin hesitated before stepping outside. ‘By the way, the police are now investigating Nick’s death. We believe he was murdered.’
Goodhew reached the door before Kimberly had had the chance to close it fully. ‘I just want a word with her,’ he explained, ‘then Marks wants us all back at
Parkside.’
PC Gully was already halfway across the room after him. ‘Marks said you weren’t to run off.’
Goodhew glanced back. ‘Like I said, I won’t be a minute.’
He left, and Gully turned to Kimberly. ‘He’ll catch us up.’ Gully looked uncomfortable.
Kimberly had noticed her blushing earlier, too, each time over very minor incidents. She wondered whether the policewoman could be even younger than she looked. Or maybe out of her depth?
Kimberly nodded towards the door. ‘I’m ready.’
The police car was the closest vehicle to the house. Goodhew was further down the street, already too deep in conversation with Tamsin to acknowledge their departure. As Gully drove them out of
the road, Kimberly’s last glance backwards registered Goodhew making notes and Tamsin talking, probably far too freely. She knew Tamsin’s agenda – and Anita’s, and maybe
even
gracefully. To live off family money, yet claim to be her own person.
Kimberly knew she was being judgemental, a bigot, a bitch even: and for all she repelled the idea of any charitable thoughts towards Tamsin she still knew that only two events had made her shut
her heart against her. One betrayal apiece. She couldn’t find enough compassion to care that Tamsin’s eyes were welling with tears, or accept that maybe Rachel’s death might be a
blow to both of them.
Tamsin reached out her hand as if she thought Kimberly would want to embrace her. Kimberly didn’t.
‘How are you?’ she asked quietly.
Tamsin withdrew her hand. ‘Poor Rachel.’
‘They haven’t identified her yet.’ It was an illogical thing to say. Who else was it going to be?
‘Who else could it be?’ Tamsin echoed the thought.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Kimberly snapped. ‘At the moment I’m not sitting round playing guessing games. Why are you here?’
‘It’s about Nick.’
At any other time, Kimberly would have braced herself for those words. She was expert at controlling her expressions, seeming maybe a little too calm to be natural, but at any other time she
would certainly not have gasped or blinked, or floundered for words in the seconds that followed.
‘Nick?’ she repeated, and she silently cursed herself for being caught off guard. So fucking off guard. ‘Now is not really the time to be telling me about Nick, is it,
Tam?’ She tried to sound genuinely indignant. ‘Do you think I care?’
Tamsin reddened. ‘He’s dead.’
This time Kimberly was ready. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘When?’
‘The whole time. They found his car. Divers found his car. There was an accident . . .’
‘He crashed?’
‘No, someone else had an accident, went off the road into the sea ten miles from Cartagena. Divers went to recover the body, and found Nick’s car.’
Kimberly imagined the scene: the Merc being winched clear of the water, the police, the body bag, Nick’s parents. She stopped then, unable to think beyond them: Trudy and Dougie.
‘How is she?’
‘Who?’
‘Trudy?’
‘I think you know. Is it Riley that’s missing?’
Kimberly looked down at the photo still in her hand. At the wonky smile and the innocent eyes. She handed it to Tamsin. ‘The police said they need one.’
Tamsin studied it, then gave it back. ‘He looks a lot like Jay.’
‘Rachel thought he was more like me.’
Tamsin didn’t stay much longer. Kimberly’s habitual animosity towards her was temporarily displaced by feelings of sympathy, some kind of shared grief perhaps. But she knew it
wouldn’t last. At the front door, Tamsin hesitated before stepping outside. ‘By the way, the police are now investigating Nick’s death. We believe he was murdered.’
Goodhew reached the door before Kimberly had had the chance to close it fully. ‘I just want a word with her,’ he explained, ‘then Marks wants us all back at
Parkside.’
PC Gully was already halfway across the room after him. ‘Marks said you weren’t to run off.’
Goodhew glanced back. ‘Like I said, I won’t be a minute.’
He left, and Gully turned to Kimberly. ‘He’ll catch us up.’ Gully looked uncomfortable.
Kimberly had noticed her blushing earlier, too, each time over very minor incidents. She wondered whether the policewoman could be even younger than she looked. Or maybe out of her depth?
Kimberly nodded towards the door. ‘I’m ready.’
The police car was the closest vehicle to the house. Goodhew was further down the street, already too deep in conversation with Tamsin to acknowledge their departure. As Gully drove them out of
the road, Kimberly’s last glance backwards registered Goodhew making notes and Tamsin talking, probably far too freely. She knew Tamsin’s agenda – and Anita’s, and maybe
even
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